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evagreen-stories · 10 months ago

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Mother’s madness | (Aemond x f!lowborn!reader) (3/?)

Summary: Aemond, troubled by his unfruitful marriage and the stress of the war, takes himself a bed slave when he seizes Harrenhal and gets more attached to her than he ever thought possible. Bringing her to the Red Keep after he needs to leave Harrenhal would not go as he hoped it would, especially after the birth of the babes he sired onto her.

Warnings: mentions of violence, light angst (kinda?), canon typical misogyny, canon typical behaviour, dark!aemond, abusive!aemond, forced relationship, forced impregnantion, canon typical classicism, mentions of assault, stockholm syndrom (kind of), non-canon storyline

Author's note: Short little chapter but at last, an update!

Divider @targaryen-dynasty

< part 2 masterlist

By the time Aemond had made all his reports, listened to the yappings of all the council members and sat through hours of further strategy planning, he wanted to rip out each strand of his hair.

It was hard for him to focus already, the worries over his precious bed slave and her madness over their, over his, sons had all but consumed every part of his mind, and yet, odd stares from his mother and grand maester Orwyle made him all the more restless.

Finally, the council meeting was concluded and the Lords left the room. Aemond would watch in silence as Criston helped the struggling king to his feet and down the stairs.

Aegon had been burned and injured gravely during the battle at Rooks Rest over a year ago where Meleys had ingulfed him and his dragon in dragonfire, but he was growing more and more capable these days and managed to attend the council meetings from time to time.

Still, Aemond remained the prince regent, but would sit opposite of the king’s seat at the foot of the long wooden table whenever his brother was in attendance.

From there, he watches as neither his mother nor Orwyle made any attempts to move from their seats, just as he didn’t.

Sitting in tense silence for several moments, Aemond eventually fixates on the elder man to his right. Glaring at him, his voice is little more than a growl, he asks,

“Care to explain to me what is going on with my mistress?”

Orwyle takes a moment to answer, shifting nervously in his seat and glancing to the dowager queen sitting opposite of him before turning his attention back to the prince regent.

“Your mistress, my prince, would appear to suffer from some sort of birth induced mania. It happens from time to time, unfortunately.” He states before carefully adding. “Mothers of such circumstance… they should be separated from the child. They are unable to care for the babes and may harm them during manic episodes.”

Aemond’s face hardens, his jaw clenching. “She is perfectly capable to care for my sons. I have gone to meet her already. I do not believe for a moment she suffers from true madness.”

“She does.” Alicent speaks up. “She would chase anyone out of her room, preferably with the nearest sharp object in hand. Your whore is incapable of caring for your sons.”

“That is a lie!” Aemond snaps his head to her. “What would you even know of this? She and what I do with her is none of your concern, I have told you so a hundred times already.”

“I am your mother. Mind your tongue when talking to me.” The red-haired woman hisses before continuing. “I am also the dowager queen and queen mother. With the queen still occupied in her grief, the Red Keep is my responsibility in your absence. That makes your whore and her spawn my responsibility as well. I needed to deal with the drama she caused. Had she not locked herself away I can assure you, this matter would have long been settled already.”

“Settled?” Aemond scoffs. “And what would that have looked like? Taken my sons from her? And then what?”

“Most certainly. And she must receive treatment-“

“Treatment? What would your great treatment entail?”

“Treatment varies from individual to individual. It remains to be seen what methods work best on her. Is that not right, grand maester?” Alicent urges Orwyle to speak up.

“…yes. Yes, your grace. It is difficult to predict which treatments will work best on her.” The man nods softly.

Aemond was well aware of how maesters would attempt to cure madness. Their methods would be torturous. His own methods of bringing her into full submission when he first claimed her would seem tame in comparison. His stomach turns at the thought of what they would have done to her in his abscence had she not kept her door locked at all times.

“You will do no such thing.” Aemond growls. “No one but me touches her. No one but me will make any decision on any treatments. She is not mad. The babes are healthy. There is no need to intervene.”

“Now they are. But they weren’t always. Your children should be supervised by maesters not by some deranged lowborn.” Alicent retorts.

Aemond furrows his brows, looking at his mother in disbelief. His y/n hadn’t said anything of the sorts. “Now? Now? What is that supposed to mean?”

After another nod from the dowager queen, Orwyle explains, “It… appears we might have miscalculated the day of conception. The babes came early, it seems. Weak, very small, frail. It borders on a miracle the boys live, my prince.”

Aemond stares at him dumbfounded. He held his sons just a few hours earlier, they seemed well. Plumb, full of life. Not just that, he himself had been there when they conceived. He was sure his seed took the very first night that he dragged her to his bed near a year ago. He had watched her belly swell even before he brought her here to the Red Keep.

It made no sense the babes were born sickly when not a single issue had been encountered before. Not even when she was going about her duties of tending to him with little struggle. Well, as long as she could sit down, lay on her side and not have to bend over, that is.

The maesters voice brings him out of his thoughts. “It is best the babes be closely supervised by maesters and raised by experienced nursemaids and wetnurses. Your… mistress should not have them. Mad or not, she will not be able to provide your sons with the care they need to survive.”

Aemond had always been a stubborn man. Perhaps it was his thick head that made him refuse the maesters urging, or perhaps it was his trust is his little bed slave that did so. She was a pure hearted woman, her heart soft. She had learned her new place in life quickly, she had not once betrayed him or given him any reason to doubt her.

She had nothing to gain from lying to him but everything to lose.

She was so convinced of the maesters wanting to steal their children, it could not be a mistake. She would not beg him for help and forgo all formalities with him unless she was truly afraid.

Aemond’s thoughts and emotions were in turmoil now, struggling to discern the truth between y/n’s words, the words of his mother and the grand maester, and the facts he knew to be true.

Staring off at the empty king’s chair in the distance, his voice is little more than a murmur when he asks, “What do you even care for? She’s nothing but a whore in your eyes. You see my sons as bastards only. Why do you care for what happens to them?”

Aemond freezes at his mother’s following shameless reply. He can’t believe she would just state something like this as if it was nothing unusual. It would seem little more than an odd phrasing of words to some but with his suspicions in mind, it's all the confirmation he needs.

“She is a whore, yes. She has seduced you so she can live in luxury far above her station. You’re just a foolish young man with no control of his urges. But… the fact remains that you have no heir. With only a daughter and no sons, they could be of good use to you had you done your wife the courtesy of putting them into her belly instead.”

His gaze cold as ice, he stares at her, never once looking away as he growls. “So it’s true what y/n says? That you plan to steal my sons from her and give them to Floris?”

Alicent seems taken aback, her surprised expression shortly finding Orwyle’s startled one before quickly moving back to her son. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y/n.” Aemond says firmly. “She says she has heard someone say it. That you tasked the maesters to take my sons from her and give them to Floris.”

Alicent remains quiet for a while before her own face hardens. Straightening her posture and keeping her hands clasped firmly in front of her on the table, she begins to lecture her son.

“You have a lady wife, Aemond. A respectable, honorable lady wife of high birth. Princess Floris has given you a daughter already and served you faithfully.” She begins. “The only thing you still need is a legitimate son. With your wife’s recent stillbirth during your absence, it would be easy to arrange so. Give your whore’s sons to her. Or just one, even. You can pass him off as hers and have your-“

“ENOUGH!” Aemond roars, his fists slamming onto the table as he stands up, the chair loudly scraping across the floor. “I will not hear of this! How DARE you try and steal my sons from y/n!”

Alicent’s face remains resolute, her chin held up high in defiance, while Orwyle looks like he wants to vanish beneath the floor.

“I did what needed to be done. Stop coddling your whore, Aemond. Let her pay back for living on the crown’s cost and causing your lady wife distress. Let her produce the boys and you make them heirs, as the sons of you and Princess Floris.”

Mouth hanging open, Aemond can barely believe what his mother is saying. “If anyone has gone mad here, it is you, not her.” He says firmly. “I cannot believe you would betray me like this. Go against my orders, willing to harm my y/n.”

He glares down at his mother as he continues, “Floris will not have my sons. She does NOT deserve them. She has failed me. Failed as my wife, failed as a woman. My mistress has done within a year what that bitch of a wife could not manage in five. Y/n will keep my sons and all other children I will put into her belly and all of them will be made my heirs. Not as Floris’s children, but as y/n’s. I will legitimize them at once and have them declared as my heirs.”

“Have you lost your mind?!” Alicent is the one yelling now. “You cannot do that! Think of the shame that it would bring to your wife! Of how it will disrupt our ally with the Baratheon’s!”

“She is the one that brings shame to me!” Aemond shouts back, his face filled with pure rage and hatred. “It is her failing that has made me the laughingstock across the realm! Made me the maimed prince whose cock does not work! Now they will no longer laugh, now that I have my sons! Lord Borros praised me her fertility but delivered a woman unable to carry a child properly. It is his own doing our alliance has faltered. He will not speak against my y/n or our sons. He will accept them as my heirs. He will remain loyal to our side or I will personally fly south and turn Storm’s End into a second Harrenhal!”

With that, Aemond throws the nearest cups and parchments off the table before turning on his heel to make his way out the door, curses at his mother and wife flowing out his mouth as he does so.

In his rage, Aemond makes his way to the training yard, the urge to stab one of the dummies repeatedly or challenge one of the poor squires to a duel overwhelming him.

< part 2 masterlist

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hllywdwhre · 1 year ago

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Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Chapter 7

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

Warnings: Please check masterlist for warnings. This work is 18+, MDNI

Masterlist

Notes: I’m sorry this update is so late. Life happened and shit hit the fan 🙃 also, after seeing the results of what you as the readers would rather see, I will be working on rewriting the next few chapters! As soon as chapter 8 is finished, it will be posted!

That afternoon, Viserea is surprised when she is summoned to the Small Council along with Rhaenyra.

“I would not let him fill your position, though mine own has changed,” Rhaenyra explained as they entered through the doors.

When Rhaenyra sat at the table, Viserea understood what she had meant. She was surprised she still was allowed to be cup bearer, so she held no anger at this. She hadn’t been in King’s Landing for a year, it was only fair that Rhaenyra be placed on the Small Council.

Viserea was surprised to hear of how Corlys had begun trying to make negotiations with the Sealord of Braavos for Laena’s hand though. It made sense, but it meant that House Velaryon was that much more powerful. Even if Corlys and Rhaenys supported Viserea and Rhaenyra’s future positions, this was cause for concern.

“The Sea-Snake is an over proud man to be sure, Your Grace. That pride has been injured. Perhaps we can salve the wound?” The Maester suggested, causing both Rhaenyra and Viserea’s eyebrows to raise at the implication.

“If House Velaryon were to enter into an alliance with the Free Cities, we would need our own marriage pact,” Otto said bluntly, not trying to avoid the topic the way the Maester was.

Viserea stayed beside Rhaenyra as the air became thick and Viserys tried shuffling to another subject, knowing no good would come if he tried discussing this with Rhaenyra after all of the events that had taken place between himself, Rhaenyra, Viserea, and Daemon.

Once the council meeting was over and the room had emptied, Viserea stayed in the room with Rhaenyra.

“He said I would get to choose, and yet I fear my fate has been decided. Even if he was the one we were hoping for, it feels a betrayal,” Rhaenyra said quietly, joining Viserea at the wine table.

“Allow him to come to you, try and use this to your advantage. We can try and force the Hand out. If he wants you to marry who he says instead of giving you a choice, make it worth your while. Go visit Alicent and mend your friendship, it may be needed. I will speak to the Rogue,” Viserea told her, meeting Rhaenyra’s eyes as they filled with questions.

“What are you thinking of?”

“I am not sure, but I am sure Daemon will have an idea. There might yet be an idea of how to complete our marriage without intereference,”

“If he is willing to go back on his word of my own consent in my marriage, I doubt he will listen to the Rogue,”

Viserea nodded, knowing she was right, but knowing Daemon would have more of an idea on how to handle this than she would. After checking that they truly were the only two in the room, Viserea leaned in and kissed Rhaenyra softly, feeling a great deal of tension leave both their bodies as they finally got to feel each other again. The moment could not last as long as either of them wanted though, and they pulled away.

“Please,” Rhaenyra begged, and Viserea nodded, kissed her forehead, and left the room.

Viserea found her way to her chambers, smiling when she saw Ser Ryden now at her door.

“Princess, I see your life has led you to… new adventures,” he said, his eyes motioning to her chambers where she was sure Daemon was waiting.

“New adventures are always welcome. Perhaps this isn’t a new one though, just the merging of two that have always existed,” Viserea replied.

“I hope to be by your side for them all then, Princess,” Ser Ryden said.

“You will, Ser Ryden. As will Amarda,” she promised, watching as comprehension flashed in Ser Ryden’s eyes.

Viserea stepped inside her chambers and found Daemon walking around the room, messing with the various items she had left behind.

“How was the meeting, my wife?” Daemon asked, chuckling as he saw Viserea’s face turn to one of annoyance.

“Lord Corlys is speaking of betrothing his daughter Laena to the Sealord of Braavos, an alliance that can only be matched by another proposal,” Viserea said, watching her husband’s face darken at the news.

“So he is going to go back on his promise of allowing Rhaenyra to choose?”

“I told her to use it to her advantage, to try and get Otto off of the Council, but this still raises more issues. If Viserys goes to Corlys offering the marriage, Corlys knows that he has the power in his hands even more than he already knows it. If it had been Rhaenyra choosing him, it would not be seen as the act of groveling it is,” Viserea pointed out, watching as Daemon began pacing the floor.

He remained quiet, his brows furrowed in thought.

“Then we lay claim to what is ours. We want her, and we don’t want to see the Crown groveling. Yes, Corlys’ power if the betrothal happens will be worrisome, but it would be more worrisome if he had the betrothal and the Crown groveling at his feet. We lay claim to Rhaenyra and make sure she is ours, if she will allow it,” Daemon suddenly suggested.

“And how do you plan to make that happen, my love?”

“I’ve always wanted to go with the two of you for a night in King’s Landing, show you two a side of the cities that I forbade Blood and Cheese from allowing you to visit.”

Viserea’s eyebrows furrowed as he suggested it, confused by where exactly he planned on taking them until it hit her,

“I will not be fucked like some whore in a whore house, and I will not allow her first time with a man to be carried out the same way-“

“You misunderstand me, dear wife. While I do want you two to visit the Street of Silk, I do not plan on treating you two like the common whores. I do, however, want to give you two a night to remember,” he explained.

“So… a courting before we ruin her virtue and make her only ours to marry?” Viserea asked, still not agreeing wholly with the idea.

“Something she will know is our intentions, and she will have the chance to object to. Plus, it is much easier for the three of us to sneak into her chambers from the outside than it is the inside.”

Viserea watched him for a moment, running through his plan in her mind before nodding and agreeing with it.

“And if she objects?”

“We will deal with the Crown groveling and have our marriage at a later time.”

Viserea and Daemon both stood at the top of one of the set of stairs in the passageway they both had memorized by now, their silver hair covered and wearing the clothes of the commoners. They were broken away from their conversation as they heard Rhaenyra let out a single exasperated burst of laughter.

Viserea offered Rhaenyra her hand and linked their fingers together, following Daemon down the next set of stairs to lead them outside. Blood nor Cheese accompanied them as they left the walls of the Keep and began exploring the city.

Viserea herself had only seen the city a couple times at night, finding it to be too large of a risk for many trips. Both she and Rhaenyra found themselves entertained by the many different acts across the streets.

“And now we come to the matter of the great, iron chair!” A voice bellowed, causing Rhaenyra and Viserea to exchange glances with each other.

Viserea knew Daemon wasn’t far behind them as they walked to the small stage and she soon felt Daemon standing behind the two of them. She expected the booing of the crowd when the narrator announced that,

“Our great King names his daughter, a girl, his heir!”

Her grip tightened on Rhaenyra’s hand to comfort her. Viserea knew the views of the commoners better than most, having spent many days in the streets. The majority of them truly did support Rhaenyra, but the night crowd was the loud minority.

“But then to him, a babe is born!” The narrator announced, watching as a grotesque and disrespectful depiction of Alicent giving birth to Aegon was shown.

The crowds laughter at the crude depiction of Rhaenyra had Daemon watching both she and Viserea closely, knowing neither of their tempers fared well when it come to their or their loved one’s claims.

When the man playing Aegon pulled out a rope shaped as a cock from his pants, Rhaenyra shouted out, “Lies! Slander!”, causing Viserea to jump slightly.

Viserea gave a sharp tug on her hand, trying to quiet her when Daemon spoke from behind them,

“Jest if you will, but many of the smallfolk are like to believe that, as a male, Aegon should be the heir.” His voice was low, but carried to them easily.

Rhaenyra let out a “hmph”, “Their wants are of no consequence.”

She walked away from them both, causing her and Daemon to follow while Daemon laughed lowly.

“She does not realize the powerful tool they are,” Daemon said to Viserea as they walked to catch up with her.

“She also does not realize that there are a great many on her side,” Viserea pointed out, looking up at Daemon as his hand on her back guided her through the streets.

“They’re of great consequence if you expect to rule them one day,” Daemon told Rhaenyra when they caught back up to her.

“For one night, I wish to be free of the burdens of my inheritance,” Rhaenyra said, clearly annoyed.

Without thinking, Rhaenyra reached for a tray of food, picking up a piece and taking a single bite out of it.

“Four coppers, street rat. In King’s Landing we pay for our pleasures,” he said, causing her to freeze for a moment before throwing the food at Daemon and running.

Viserea followed after Rhaenyra, hearing Daemon say something to the man and quickly catch up to her. They continued running through the streets, Viserea and Rhaenyra’s laughter eventually bouncing off the walls.

It was quickly silenced when Rhaenyra, quite literally, ran into a member of the Gold Cloaks, his threatening voice questioning her,

“And who might you be running from, now?” Ser Harwin questioned, causing relief to wash over her but quickly disappear as he saw Viserea step next to Rhaenyra.

“Ser Harwin,” Rhaenyra said, a level of fear on her face and in her voice.

“Princess?” He questioned, looking up and recognizing Viserea, “Both of you?”

“Please,” Viserea said at the same time as Rhaenyra said, “Don’t.”

He looked between the two of them and noticed Daemon’s figure approaching,

“Take care, boys. Next time, you might not be so lucky,” he warned, allowing the both of them to walk away as he exchanged a nod with Daemon.

“Enjoyed that did you?” Daemon asked, his arm coming to wrap around Viserea’s shoulder.

“Who knows when I’ll next taste freedom?” Rhaenyra said through laughter, causing both Viserea and Daemon to laugh along with her.

Viserea spotted Daemon take Rhaenyra’s hand in his and smiled, allowing him to guide them both through the streets she no longer recognized. She’d never been permitted this far into them with only Blood and Cheese to accompany her.

As the sounds in the building they were approaching grew louder, Viserea glanced to Rhaenyra from beside Daemon,

“Do you trust us?” She asked her.

“Of course,” she replied, curiosity and confusion lacing her voice.

Once they entered the building, Daemon took off his robe, having no quarrels at being spotted here. Rhaenyra and Viserea both watched as the naked women on the stage in front of them, covered in tattoos, did something Viserea could only describe as perform.

When Daemon caught their eye, Viserea and Rhaenyra followed him down another hallway in the building. The atmosphere changed from something lighthearted to something more intense. Rhaenyra and Viserea both removed their caps, silver hair on display, and gripped one of Daemon’s hands each.

They followed close behind him as they walked past rooms with people in them. Some held a woman and a man, multiple women and a man, multiple men and a woman, and only men or women. All of the people in the rooms were letting breathy moans of pleasure fill the air.

Rhaenyra had coupled with Viserea, while Viserea had coupled with both Rhaenyra and Daemon, yet neither of them were able to keep their eyes from flickering through the rooms of people chasing their own pleasure.

Daemon’s presence seemed to draw attention, some of the women stopping what they were doing to whisper his name.

“What is this place?” Rhaenyra asked as they stepped into another room that at least a dozen people were occupying.

“It’s where people come to take what they want,” Daemon replied as Rhaennnyra and Viserea watched the different groups of people.

“Fucking is a pleasure, you see, even if it’s a man and a woman,” Daemon said, drawing Rhaenyra’s attention to him. His forehead rested against hers and he used the hand that held Viserea’s to guide Viserea to stand behind Rhaenyra.

Viserea and Daemon allowed Rhaenyra to make the first move. When her lips met with Daemons, Viserea pushed her hair out of the way, beginning to kiss and nip at her neck the way she knew Rhaenyra liked.

“Marriage can be a duty, but that does not mean we have to stop doing what we want,” Daemon told her, going back to kissing her the moment the words had left his mouth, “from fucking who we want.”

As if to prove his point, Demon pulled Viserea into his kiss next and Viserea heard Rhaenyra’s quickened breath in her ear as she was pushed between them.

He backed the three of them up, pulling Viserea from behind Rhaenyra until Rhaenyra’s back was against the wall. Viserea kissed Rhaenyra this time and Viserea felt Daemon’s lips attach to her neck and guide her hands under Rhaenyra’s shirt, both of them touching the soft skin beneath it.

“Do you want this?” Daemon asked, looking to Rhaenyra as his lips left Viserea’s skin.

“Yes,” Rhaenyra said breathlessly against Viserea’s lips.

“Do you understand what this means?” Viserea asked Rhaenyra, searching Rhaenyra’s eyes.

“You plan to ruin my purity for any future suitors. To ensure that I can only be yours,” Rhaenyra confirmed.

“Come, then,” Daemon said, pulling away from them both and beginning to walk away.

Viserea and Rhaenyra shared another glance and followed behind him. He stayed a couple steps in front of them as he guided them back to the castle, taking the same path to enter the castle as they had to exit earlier that night.

“Ser Criston?” Rhaenyra asked quietly, scared of his presence possibly being on the other side of the door.

“Ser Ryden dismissed him earlier, stating that you and I wanted some privacy to catch up on the past year’s events and he would not be needed,” Viserea said at a normal volume.

It took nothing further from either of them for Rhaenyra to release her anxiety and begin kissing Viserea again. The three of their bodies become hopelessly entangled with each others’ as they all lost track of whose mouth was where on their bodies at any given time. Broken moans filtered through the room as Viserea and Rhaenyra finally reunited for the first time in a year. More followed as Daemon and Rhaenyra were finally allowed to release the pent up tension they felt for each other.

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presidenthades · 2 years ago

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I am doing very minor revisions of Daemon’s Handbook (mostly formatting and continuity errors), and I wanted to do some behind-the-scenes commentary before too much time passes and I forget my original thoughts. Here’s Chapter 3!

(Note that these commentaries aren’t canon to the verse until/unless the author writes them into the series. I might change my mind on a few points later, but these are the thoughts I had while writing.)

Joff might be a precocious witchy 6 year old, but like any 6yo, she thinks farts are hilarious. Sorry, Gerardys. (Also, notice how Joff dissembles/changes the topic when she doesn’t want to directly answer a question.)

Should Joff be mixing bleach and ammonia together? Nooooo. (And if you’re reading this, please don’t do this at home.)

As mentioned in the Chapter 2 commentary, Jace freaks out about her ruined slippers because they were a gift from Aegon, and now she can’t easily get presents from her not-boyfriend anymore. 🥺

I might write a lengthier scene of the girls’ rebellion re: Daemon and Rhaenyra’s marriage in another installment of the series. Here, I tried to make each girl’s reaction indicative of their overall personalities/mannerisms: Jace tries to be diplomatic, Luce goes for the drama, Baela out-cusses Daemon, Rhaena lets her emotions show through the cracks, and Joff is silently disapproving.

IMO, in the show, Rhaenys takes Baela as a ward because she sees Baela as her eldest true grandchild and the rightful heir to Driftmark. (I’ve also seen fanon in some fics that Daemon and Rhaenyra send Baela as a conciliatory gesture after they elope.) Here, Jace is Rhaenys’s eldest grandchild AND slated for the Iron Throne (and Rhaenys’s secret favorite), so Rhaenys would prefer to take Jace and ensure that a future queen of her blood is properly trained and educated.

Confession: in a VERY early draft of this fic, Baela and Rhaena had much smaller roles. I was going to send them both to Driftmark so I could focus on Daemon getting to know Rhaenyra’s daughters. But I’m very happy I went with the blended family aspect in the end.

Lucera has dyslexia, AKA “an affliction of letters.” I enjoy the trope in a lot of Aemond/OC fics that they bond over a shared love of reading, but I wanted to do a twist. Luce likes stories and learning, but she has trouble working through the books on her own, which means Aemond reads aloud to her a lot. 🥰 Now that she’s at Dragonstone though, she has no Aemond to read aloud to her (and she’s mad at him anyway).

I reallyyyyy wanted to write a scene where Luce explains her “marriage = whoring” argument to Alicent, but it never fit into this fic. Maybe one day. But I think Luce has this thought (marriage is about money and copulating) in the back of her mind when she deals with all her suitors later.

I was fascinated by the range of commenters’ reactions to Daemon’s argument about not letting the girls marry the Targtowers. Some people 100% agreed with him and others thought Daemon was being stupid. Which is the kind to reaction I was hoping to get, so yay! I wrote this fic with the intention of conveying that Daemon THINKS he’s right about a lot of things, but he’s not omniscient so take it with a grain of salt.

I wanted the boys’ handwriting and writing styles to reflect their personalities. Aegon is messy and unstructured, and he doesn’t always follow proper grammar/syntax rules. Aemond keeps up appearances and is finicky about grammar/syntax but adjusts his script for Luce. Daeron is still very young but tries to imitate the neatness he sees in his primers.

The gift that Aegon mentions Luce is helping with is supposed to be a song he writes for Jace. (Much more wholesome than the wedding song lol.) I was going to include it in this chapter but it seemed forced so I tabled it. He’s also pretty talented at drawing. I like the idea of Aegon being an artist/romantic at heart, but those aren’t traits appreciated in a potential king so Otto (and maybe Alicent) tries to quash those traits.

Chapter 4 commentary here

#my writing #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #meta #daemon’s handbook

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watcherintheweyr · 1 year ago

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THIS. All of this.

Rhaenyra was absolutely as much of a feminist as the times allowed. In both book and show, she explicitly has women on her war and small councils, taking their advice, information, and opinions into account. In the show, she explicitly invites Baela and Rhaena TO the table where decisions are made, which was a privilege and a right that her own father never truly gave her- instead he allowed and empowered Otto to undermine and dismiss her, every time she attempted to act as heir.

In episode two, we see that happen as she attempts to partake in the counsel- and she puts forth a genuinely good idea, to use the kingdom’s dragonriders as emissaries and messengers as a show of force to gain allies. She later outmaneuvers Otto to end the Dragonstone crisis caused by Daemon without bloodshed. In that same episode, when she expresses her fears of the lords plotting in the small council whenever she is dismissed to remarry her father and have her replaced as heir. Alicent then tells her ‘it is not our place to question the plots of kings and men’ despite it being entirely Rhaenyra’s place as heir.

Again, in that same episode, Rhaenys attempts to ‘speak the truth of the world’ to Rhaenyra, but manages or else intentionally does so in the most condescending and almost smug manner possible- as though she is almost eager to have Rhaenyra suffer the same fate as she, the queen who never was. Rhaenyra’s response is to point out that unlike Rhaenys, she was explicitly named heir and sworn allegiance to, and expresses that she wishes to create a new order, rather than the one where men will ‘burn the realm to the ground, rather than see a woman ascend the iron throne.’

In episode 3 she balks only at the duty of marriage- and has otherwise been actively trying to work as heir and crown princess, and expresses frustration that the realm only sees her as something replaceable, since her two-year old sibling is the boy that her father killed her mother to acquire and already the realm calls him as ‘aegon the conqueror-babe, second of his name’ as though he has already been named heir and they are simply waiting for it be be made official. She also has to witness her father do nothing to dissuade those actions- he only reminds the realm that Rhaenyra was not named his heir on a whim after Lord Jason fumbles his attempt at a proposal. She then sees the White Hart who ‘ruled westeros before dragons, a symbol of royalty’ show itself to her- and unlike the men who had eagerly come to this hunt to seek it and kill it, shows it mercy.

In episode four she expresses the explicit understanding that none of the men on her ‘courtship’ want her for her. they want her for her blood, for the babes she will give them, they want her so that they will have proximity to the throne- so that they, perhaps, can rule through her, and make her their puppet, which is quite clearly what her concerns were when it came to Jason Lannister. She is fully aware that there is nothing romantic about it- that they see her only as a mare to be bred. And she then attempts to comfort Alicent when she sees that her words had hurt her former friend, despite the fact that at that point they had not even attempted to mend the bridges that were burned.

The Rosby and Stokeworth daughters were a precarious situation, as Corlys explained in the books. Rhaenyra’s place as ruler was still unstable- if she had tried to make any sweeping changes at that point to the realm’s succession laws at large, then it was hihgly likely some of her supporters would abandon her for Aegon. That does not change the fact that there were women in positions of power who Rhaenyra gave support to, or that she gave positions of power to, such as Rhaenys and Mysaria, such as her stepdaughters.

Ultimately we will never know what kind of ruler Rhaenyra could have been- but she attended and contributed to the Small Council for the majority of her life, and then ruled Dragonstone well and ably for over a decade- if she had not, the Green-sympathizers in Fire and Blood would have brought it up, as doing so would only help them to paint Aegon as the ‘rightful’ choice. And unlike the Greens she did allow for women to have places of power, honor, and autonomy in the order of the world that she was attempting to create.

Just because she was imperfect and not a ‘feminist’ by modern standards doesn’t mean she wasn’t a ‘girl’s girl’, nor that she wasn’t a feminist in her own way. Her rule would have helped to empower women all across the kingdoms, in all manner of positions, and the Greens robbed that from the realm at Alicent’s enabling and initiating. And her wanting space and distance from Alicent (show wise) after Alicent married her father does not make that any less true- particularly when it was never made clear to her that it was Otto’s instigation, and not Alicent’s. Her snapping back at Rhaenys when Rhaenys was ‘telling her the truth’ doesn’t make that less true- when Rhaenys was not doing so to be kind, but to honestly, be cruel.

And later, her proposing to Rhaenys that Baela and Jace’s ‘sons’ would ascend the iron throne also does not change the fact that she was attempting to be a ruling queen or that her being queen would have given women more power. Up until that point, Rhaenys has never been her biggest supporter, and Rhaenyra has firsthand experienced how Rhaenys does not have any faith in women ascending the throne- she was attempting to play into how Rhaenys seemed to believe and support, to gain an ally against the Greens who were attempting to usurp Corlys’ and Laenor’s will.

Alicent (show and book, but explicitly show in this example!) is explicitly not a ‘girl’s girl’ and just because she’s suffered, just because she’s been through some shit, doesn’t make her some paragon of feminism. Olivia Cooke point-blank states that Alicent utilizes and weaponizes the patriarchy of Westeros to sabotage the autonomy of women. And why? Because she’s angry that Rhaenyra didn’t consent to men taking her power, because Rhaenyra didn’t lay down to suffer beside her at the will of the men around them. She’s angry that Rhaenyra didn’t ‘sacrifice and do her duty’ in the only way that Alicent thinks is valid. To her it doesn’t matter that Rhaenyra gave up her choice to marry when her father insisted she marry Laenor. It doesn’t matter that Rhaenyra was afraid of marriage and childbirth after what happened to her mother, but buckled down and did it anyways to provide the kingdom with heirs. She’s angry that Rhaenyra dared to have autonomy in her sex life, and that her husband backed and supported her without fail. It’s straight up angers her when Rhaenyra makes wise suggestions in Small Council- with regards to the Stepstones and the Bracken and Blackwood feud. And then angers her even further when Rhaenyra attempts to mend the breaks between their family- she offers Aemond a dragon egg, which Alicent **knows** he desperately wants- she offers a deal that would have made Helaena queen. But for Alicent, that isn’t good enough. Rhaenyra has to have her power stripped from her- or else all of Alicent’s suffering has been for nothing.

Rhaenyra could have changed everything for women in Westeros- but she was never given the chance. She *was* a girl’s girl, and OP is 10000000% correct, i thank you.

rhaenyra is as much of a girl’s girl as the society she lives in allows her to be.

book wise she has multiple ladies in waiting (not just alicent, which is a grave oversight in the show), one of which is said to have gouged out her own eyes at the sight of rhaenyra’s murder. that doesn’t sound like someone who isn’t capable of inspiring loyalty from the women around them. rhaenys fully and wholeheartedly supported rhaenyra and her cause, even dying in her attempts to make her the first queen regnant of the seven kingdoms. laena betrothed her daughters to rhaenyra’s sons, ensuring that her blood sat both the iron throne and the driftwood throne, all while being a pretty difficult backing to break due to the wealth and naval power of the velaryons (all of this in spite of the bastardy rumors surrounding jace and luke). the agreement also puts forward how politically astute rhaenyra is, and how she didn’t just rely on her father’s word to put her on the throne. she made alliances using her sons hand in marriage; borros baratheon might not have declared for aegon had a proposal taken place the night luke brought rhaenyra’s terms. baela was only held back from partaking in the many battles because of her dragon’s size, otherwise she would have been right beside her betrothed fighting for rhaenyra. there’s even a chance that rhaena would have joined had she had a rideable dragon of her own. she had mysaria, a former sex worker, as her mistress of whisperers, a very esteemed position on her small council. the cases of rosby and stokeworth have no bearing on this, because they were never named as heirs (along with being literal children during a war time) which is what rhaenyra was using as the basis for her rulership. jeyne arryn knew her own position as lady of the eyrie would be challenged (again) if aegon stepped over rhaenyra and subsequently supported her cause. important women like alysanne blackwood and sabitha frey were key players in cregan’s army.

show wise she is shown in the season two trailer to be taking advice from rhaenys and allowing her to be a part of the war efforts. baela and rhaena are explicitly included on her war council, with rhaena as her cupbearer. moondancer is no longer a hardly rideable dragon and baela seems to be taking direct part in the war. rhaenyra is already shown in a set picture to be communicating with mysaria (whether that’s discussing blood and cheese, the aftermath of it, or something entirely different remains to be scene). these are not the acts of someone who hated other women, and using her falling out with alicent and resulting enmity between them (that is almost completely one sided due to the difference in power dynamics) as an excuse to otherwise is worse than strange, considering alicent’s canonical goal was to seat her son, a known violent misogynist, on the throne over a woman who was the named heir to the king.

the green’s entire idealogical standpoint is that women cannot rule, ever, for it would make the main members of the green’s powerless, and any other lord or heir’s claim would be up for debate if they have an elder sister. if the iron throne had truly been aegon’s by right alicent, otto, and criston would not have left viserys’ body to rot for days AND they would have had the backing of most of the houses. if alicent had cared more for her children’s wellbeing she would have convened a great council before the war began or considered any other effort that would not lead to her children fighting on dragonback. rhaenyra’s (peaceful) ascension would have at least started the necessary changes needed to grant women more authority and (!) autonomy in the seven kingdoms. queen consorts had significantly less influence after her murder, along with the targaryen’s losing their ability to hatch dragons. rhaenyra does not need to be a feminist for her cause to be inherently feminist by proxy.

rhaenyra was not a feminist, but she did have great love for other women. it’s disingenuous at best and downright insulting at worst to try to paint her as anything else. she inspired loyalty even after her murder. if the black’s cause had truly relied on putting rhaenyra on the throne, her armies would have disbanded once she was dead. instead corlys and larys poisoned aegon, with rhaenyra’s son being placed on the throne afterwards. it was ultimately about bloodlines in the end. jaehaera suffered the unfortunate consequences of an ambitious hand because of her status as aegon’s daughter. it plays directly into how alicent outlived her entire family, besides jaehaera, and went mad with grief, learning to hate the color green. how greed and the allure of power can and will corrupt those who choose to make that a priority in their lives, and how the innocent will usually pay the price for those sins.

#house of the dragon #fire and blood #rhaenyra targaryen #pro rhaenyra targaryen #team black #anti team green #anti team green stans #anti alicent hightower #in defense of rhaenyra targaryen

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illyrianbrat · 3 years ago

Text

Unthinkable Fate (Rhaenyra Targaryen imagine)

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x female!reader

Requested: Yes

Warning: petty fights, its enemies to lovers and y'all know my inspo is kanthony from bridgerton, angst, arranged marriage, incest right?, typical warnings for anything westeros, spoilers for episode 4 and maybe 5 (even though its not out yet as i write this) of house of the dragon

“You will wed Lady Y/N Velaryon, and you will do so without protest.”

“The daughter of the Sea Snake. So I can be a remedy for your political headache.”

“You are my political headache!” Viserys exclaimed.

After leaving her father, Rhaenyra felt as if life was sucked out of her. A marriage to Y/N. She could endure being wed to any lord in the Realm if it meant she would still be heir. But being wed to her? How was she going to survive?

The Velaryon’s were always at the Keep, after all, they were family. Rhaenyra and Y/N were the same age. Over the course of their childhood, they had some minimal fights that were always resolved minutes later. Even if they did not agree with most things, they always gravitated to each other. Now? Not so much.

She remembers it clearly. Six years ago, the entire family was at the dragonpit, visiting the dragons. Since Alicent was also present, due to Rhaenyra’s insistence, Y/N wandered off by herself. She could hear hushed laughs behind her. Y/N saw them looking at her while whispering, which set her off completely. It all ended in blows. The adults were bewildered, they truly did not know what to do or say. Corlys rushed his daughter away, demanding to know what caused it. After Y/N explained, he did not understand much, but knew that those fights were common with girls her age. The issue was not forgotten by them. Viserys and Rhaenys discussed what to do, and the best solution was to keep them separated. And it has been that way ever since.

At High Tide, Y/N was beside herself. Her father had just told her the news: she was betrothed to be married. Once Corlys left her bedchamber, Y/N sat down to sob. There had not been conversations of marriage at all in the castle, at least for her. Her parents decided to not push the subject, knowing it would cause a fight and Y/N possibly leaving Driftmark for good.

This is her fault. We are in this mess because of her.

The following days, both families met to discuss the “royal wedding”, as Viserys liked to call it. Y/N was nowhere to be seen. Rhaenyra was looking for her.

She found her eventually, sitting on a rock at the beach. “There you are. I have been looking all over for you.” Rhaenyra was panting, it was a long walk. “Have you decided what decor you want… for our wedding?”

Y/N looked at her with a mixed expression of disgust and annoyance. “Do it yourself. We are in this situation because of you.”

Rhaenyra was taken aback. “What?”

“We are being forced into this marriage because you decided to have fun and do questionable things. Do not get me wrong, having fun is important, but actions always have consequences. And here they are.” Y/N ranted, standing up and getting in her face. “Oh, and do not think I have forgotten about what you did at the dragonpit. Do not talk to me unless it is necessary, dear wife.”

Rhaenyra was speechless. Yes, they did not like each other, that was clear. But it had been years since that incident. She thought that Y/N would have put that behind her. It was now clear that the marriage would be hell.

Rhaenyra and Y/N moved together to Dragonstone, along with Syrax and Jarax who surprisingly got along quite well. It was a sight to see, dragonkeepers were surprised to find them laying together at first, a shocking sight, especially since their riders could not stand each other.

Rhaenyra and Y/N had separate bedchambers. It was clear that they could not be in the same space for a long period of time. For meals, they ate at the same table, but far from each other. They did not see each other much during the day, but when they did, it was a fight.

There were bakers in Dragonstone per Rhaenyra’s request. This meant they had delicious cakes and sweets available every day.

Y/N walked to the dining room, finding many cakes. As she looked through the table to see what to try first, she spotted lemon cakes… without any lemons on top.

“Rhaenyra,” Y/N huffed out, grabbing the tray of lemon cakes and marching towards Rhaenyra's bedchamber.

Her wife sat on the floor, many books opened and others discarded, making a mess. Her face turned into a scowl when she saw Y/N walk in, without knocking. “What do you want?”

“You are insufferable, I hope you know that,” Y/N stated, throwing the tray without care on top of her lap. “Eat the entire cake, not just the lemons. If you wanted a lemon slice, go ask for one. If you pull this stupidity again, the bakers will be dragon food.”

Rhaenyra was speechless at this outburst but deep down, not really surprised. After Y/N left huffing, she laughed. Making her mad was easy.

Rhaenyra loved having fresh flowers around the castle. The space feels full of life.

In one particular area, there was a table with many trinkets. Rhaenyra placed a vase of beautiful roses, brought from Highgarden. It looked lovely. Please with her new addition, she left to find a book in the library.

However, when she returned, the vase was not there anymore. “Y/N,” Rhaenyra grumbled. The vase was now on a table in the middle of the sitting area. It did look beautiful but that was not where it should be. Rhaenyra moved it back to its original place.

The silent fight went on for hours, whenever they came out and saw the vase, they moved it where they wanted it to be. Rhaenyra had enough.

She barged into Y/N’s bedchamber, holding the roses. Rhaenyra lifted the vase so Y/N could see it. “Hope you had a nice look, because I am throwing them out. I will not be getting any more flowers thanks to you not keeping your hands to yourself.”

When she left, Y/N smiled, feeling relaxed. She did like making Rhaenyra mad, as payback for the lemon cakes.

At last, everything changed.

Y/N was on her way to get Jarax, so they could fly along the coast of Dragonstone together. She loved the way the breeze felt against her skin. The stuffy castle was driving her mad. She prefers to be outside, enjoying nature. Rhaenyra was at one of the balconies, looking at her from a distance. It has been a long four months, full of constant petty fights. In that time, they had also received letters from the family, asking how things were and telling them what was happening back home.

Jarax layed on the edge of a small cliff, looking rather discontent. Maybe he needed this as well. “Hello, handsome boy. I missed you.” He let out a soft grunt, before nudging his head towards her. Y/N caressed his cheek. “Ready for a little fun?” When she got on his back, he extended his wings to take off but she felt him flinch, hard. Y/N held onto his back as tight as she could but to no avail. He gave a hard turn, taking Y/N by surprise and making her slip off.

Rhaenyra shot up from her seat when she saw Y/N plummeting into the water. She ran through the castle, screaming to the servants and the knights of what had happened. Her heart was beating uncontrollably, tears already falling out of her eyes.

Time seemed to stop in Dragonstone. As Rhaenyra was almost reaching the beach, she saw knights going into the water. Y/N was not far from the shore. Fortunately, the distance of the fall was not too far either.

A knight named Gregory carried Y/N onto the sand. She gripping his shoulder, clearly still in shock. She coughed loudly, probably feeling uncomfortable from having swallowed too much water.

“Y/N!” Rhaenyra cried, almost throwing herself on top of her. She wanted to ask so many things at once but the words would not come out. She was a nervous wreck, touching Y/N everywhere, trying to find an injury.

“Princess, it is alright,” her maid Annora said, while placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Rhaenyra practically pulled wife onto her lap, rubbing her back softly, while Y/N tried to catch her breath. “We will get the Maester.”

They do not know how long they sat at the beach. The couple felt like it was hours but in reality, only minutes went by. Gregory carried Y/N back to her bedchamber, where the Maester Gerardys was waiting.

As he got to work, Rhaenyra stood in the corner, motionless. The anxiety was too much for her at the moment. Yet she would not dare to open her mouth. Y/N came first, always.

“Excuse me, Princess,” a knight called out, snapping her out of her trance. “The dragonkeeper would like to speak with you.”

Rhaenyra nodded, leaving the room immediately. The man was standing farther from the door, for privacy. “Speak.”

“We examined Jarax. It appears his wing had been injured. He had not complained about it, therefore we do not know if it was a recent injury. It is possible he tried to ignore the pain, for the sake of going for a ride with Lady Y/N.”

Rhaenyra pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to get herself together. “Where is he now?”

“Laying with Syrax, she did not want to leave his side,” the keeper confessed. Rhaenyra nodded and told him he was dismissed.

Rhaenyra went back to the bedchamber after the Maester left. Y/N was in her nightshift, wrapped in furs. “Hello.”

Y/N smiled softly. “You came.” She said, feeling a little surprised.

“Of course I was,” Rhaenyra said, sitting next to her on the bed. “I was not leaving you here by yourself. You are my wife, after all.”

Their hearts fluttered at that. Hearing her say those words was strange but it felt right. After many years of fights and constant bickering, that hate progressed into love and admiration. Quite possibly, all those fights they had since arriving at Dragonstone felt like they were not fighting at all, just mere teasing each other.

“You really scared me today,” Rhaenyra whispered, picking at invisible fuss on the fur. “I thought I lost you.”

“I am alright, it was just a scare. Nothing to worry about,” Y/N assured her. “I am lucky my father showed me what to do if I fell in water, otherwise it would be very different.” After a pause, she asked, “did they say what happened to Jarax?”

“His wing was injured,” Rhaenyra informed her, causing her to gasp. “It was minor but apparently painful. I think he got it while playing with Syrax.”

Y/N giggled. “Seems like something that would happen to him.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. Y/N had stood up, despite Rhaenyra's inaudible protests. She watched as Y/N walked around her chamber holding a small chest in her hand.

“Here, this is for you,” Y/N beamed, happily pushing the chest onto Rhaenyra's hands.

Somewhat unsure, she opened it. It was two beautiful gold rings with red stones. “Where did you get this? They're lovely.”

“Remember that day I left after our stupid fight? I went to Dorne… Found these as I walked around the city.”

Rhaenyra did not say anything, yet she slid one ring on her own finger and grabbed Y/N’s hand, doing the same for her.

Y/N grabbed her hands, softly pulling her up from the bed. “Tell me what is troubling you.”

With shame, Rhaenyra lowered her head. “Since we arrived to Dragonstone, I have been thinking about our fight when we were younger… I was a fool. Alicent was talking about your dress, saying some idiotic thing I do not even remember anymore. I was so immature at that time, but if it was now, I’d have her head on a spike for speaking about you that way.”

“Rhaenyra, I-” Y/N tried to speak but fell quiet when she felt her wife caressing her cheek.

“I love you, Y/N,” she confessed, finally feeling as if weight was lifted from her shoulders. “I always have. I guess that spending all these years fighting made me love you even more.”

“I am glad you finally admit it. I thought you never would,” Y/N replied cheekily, making Rhaenyra roll her eyes. “I love you as well. I am sorry for taking this long to actually say it.”

They looked into each other’s eyes and it was clear, they were both nervous. Feeling brave, Rhaenyra traced her jaw with her fingers and felt Y/N leaning towards her touch. Their lips finally pressed together, they felt soft. Rhaenyra's heart pounding in her chest, she had wanted to be with her wife for so long.

It was their second kiss, the first one they shared was at their wedding. It was passive at first, they did not want to make each other uncomfortable. As they pulled apart, Y/N asked “are you alright?” It was not answered with words, but with another kiss. Not as shy as the previous one, hands already moving all over her body. Rhaenyra finally feeling sure of what to do.

There was anticipation in Y/N’s eyes as Rhaenyra carefully laid her down on the bed, laying on top of her. She needed her, they needed each other. Their bodies touched, sending shocks through them.

Y/N kissed her passionately, their tongues dancing together. She had imagined this so many times, but nothing came close to what she was experiencing in that moment. Y/N slowly started to pull down Rhaenyra’s shift, the need of feeling her skin was overwhelming.

Rhaenyra ran a hand up her leg, enjoying the feeling of her body twitching. She hicked them up, making Y/N wrap them around her waist. As she trailed her hand higher up on Y/N’s thigh, she let out a soft moan. Rhaenyra reveled in it. She loved to know exactly how she was making her feel.

The lust and need for each other grew with each second, they could not stand it any longer. Rhaenyra tore off both nightshifts, feeling impatient. She was hungry for her wife. Y/N’s heart raced as she took in the sight of her. Her eyes were dark as she tried to memorize Rhaenyra's body.

They kissed again. Y/N held onto Rhaenyra's hands as she felt her kisses going from her cheek, to her jaw, and to her neck. Y/N moaned and shuddered as Rhaenyra softly rocked her hips into her.

They spent that night together, making promises, whispering promises and professing their love for each other.

#hotd imagine #got imagine #house of the dragon imagine #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #rhaenyra targaryen x reader

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flowerandblood · 2 years ago

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A Winter Beauty (12)

[Aemond Targaryen x fem!Stark reader]

[warnings: smut, sex content, domination kink, fluff]

[description: Aemond and his family arrive at Winterfell for Rickon Stark's Name Day. There, Aemond meets his daughter, who arouses his desire. I changed some names and facts for the sake of the plot. Viserys is also slightly younger in this version.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next parts: Masterlist

_____

Aemond had never felt so fulfilled and happy in his life. He looked at his wife, sleeping in his arms, nestled against his chest, listening to her calm breathing, gently stroking her hair. He knew that they should have gotten up long ago, that the servants must have noticed their absence. He was amused to think that it didn't bother him.

For some reason, he wasn't afraid to tell his father and mother about what he had done. He didn't even feel ashamed, though he should have. He married the woman he wanted, spent the night with her, and felt at peace.

Her soft murmur snapped him out of his thoughts. She snuggled closer to him, and he felt her inhaling his scent. He kissed her hair tenderly, still stroking her head, her contented sigh answered him. They could hear birds chirping outside the keep, a nice cool breeze flowing into the chamber.

Y/N lifted her head to look at him. Her eyes were still hazy from sleep. Her gentle hand touched his cheek tenderly, and he returned her gesture. They both hugged each other's faces, looking at each other in silence. After what seemed like an eternity, he leaned in and brushed his lips.

"Ñuha dōna ābrazȳrys." He whispered and she blushed. She knew the last word meant "wife" because it had come up earlier when he was explaining to her what the priest would say at their wedding ceremony.

Aemond had then greatly appreciated her confession that she wished he would teach her the language of his ancestors. He decided that it was indeed a skill worth and desired in his future wife. Aemond pursed his lips as he saw her brows furrow at the realization of what they had done.

***

He warned her that he wanted to talk to his parents himself, and that if they asked her anything later, she was to claim that he forced her to marry. That he told her that if she didn't, he would break off their engagement.

Lady Stark didn't like the idea of throwing everything at him, fearing that her parents and brother would never forgive him. But she had no better idea how to solve it.

When they finally appeared in the royal part of the keep, Ser Criston immediately approached them, clearly frightened.

"My prince, my Lady, where have you been? The queen and the king were very scared when they found out that you disappeared, they already wanted to plan a search and…”

"Tell the king and queen that their son wants to see them alone." Aemond said dryly, Y/N looked at him scared, her lips pursed. He didn't even glance at her as Criston nodded, and the two of them started walking towards the king's chamber.

The queen jumped up from her seat at the sight of him, avoiding the table, her face a mixture of horror and relief. She squeezed her son's shoulders as if to make sure he was okay. She shook her head, looking at him questioningly.

"Aemond, where have you been? What happened?" She asked, clearly hoping to hear a good explanation for the whole situation. Aemond stared at her calmly, his face stony.

"I married her, mother."

Alicent frowned at him in disbelief. She opened her mouth and closed it, looking at her husband-king, who was staring at his son as surprised as she was. The queen swallowed, looking at him in horror.

"What do you mean by 'married'?" She asked, her voice trembling and full of disbelief.

“I married her in the tradition of my Valryian ancestors and took her to be my wife. I consummated our marriage by taking her to my bed." He answered without a trace of embarrassment or fear. It amazed him how confident he felt, how little he cared what they thought. It was too late and there was nothing they could do about it.

Alicent placed a hand on her chest as if to calm her pounding heart. Only now did she notice the cut on his lips. She shook her head, unable to believe what he was saying. She decided that her most prudent son had lost his mind.

"What are we going to tell her parents now? That you disgraced her while she was under our protection? That you took her like some common wench?" She asked, almost screaming in despair. Viserys rose from his chair, sighing heavily.

"Alicent, it's done. The fiery Targaryen blood went to his head, not he first and not the last. Why be so mad? They're going to get married anyway." He said, slightly amused. Aemond stared at him in shock. His father never stood up for him. Alicent stared at him in disbelief.

"So what do you think we should do? Keep quiet?" She asked annoyed and waved her hand impatiently. "Pretend to her parents that nothing happened?"

The king stepped closer to them with an effort, leaning against the table. Every step seemed to cause him pain.

"What would you like to do? What good will this information do for them and for us? It seems to me that my son, since he knew how to take his wife to bed, also knows how to prevent her from becoming pregnant yet." He said, looking at his son expectantly, raising his eyebrows. Aemond felt himself crimson with shame and looked down.

"Yes, Father." He replied quietly.

Viserys nodded and looked at his queen-wife.

“Even if something happens, there's always moon tea. I know you often ask our maester to produce it for our second son, my dear wife." He said kissing her hand. Alicent's lip quivered as if she was about to cry. “Just look at them. They're still kids. In love with each other, fire pulses through their veins. In a few months they will marry in Sept. Hasn't our son suffered enough pain and humiliation already?"

***

Y/N jumped in place as Aemond suddenly entered her chamber. They stared at each other with wide eyes for a moment, then threw themselves into each other's arms.

Lady Stark clung tightly to her husband, fearing the worst - that the queen would order her to return to Winterfell. To her delight, it turned out to be quite the opposite. She will stay in Kings Landing until their wedding and will be given a chamber next to her husband.

Aemond told her everything. The king informed their closest servants that they were married and should be treated as such. However, they could not tell anyone else. Viserys promised them that if this information leaked in any way, he would have their tongues ripped out one by one.

The king said he would talk to Lord Stark and his wife himself and figure something out. Aemond couldn't believe his father had treated him so kindly. After all, he came to him once more, to show his gratitude for his support at least in a few words. He felt he owed him it. Viserys looked at him, tired.

"I know I haven't been a good father to you. I didn't support you when you asked me for her hand. You can count on me this time, my son."

***

The two weeks flew by quickly, leaving only four days until Aegon and Helaena's wedding. Lords from all over the country were slowly coming to the capital, every evening boisterous feasts and dances were organized. The entire fortress was full of excited voices and visitors.

Only Aemond, Lady Stark, the king, queen, and their closest servants knew that their chambers were connected by a passage in the painting. This meant that, even though they had promised the queen they wouldn't, they spent the nights together.

Aemond did not allow his servants to enter his chamber without permission in the evening and in the morning, because he knew that his wife would be waiting for him in bed. The sight of her, lying in a see-through nightgown, smiling at him, woven into his sheets made him hard right away.

Practically every night he fucked her, and when she was too sore from their raptures, he spent the nights with his face between her thighs. They pleased each other and slept completely naked.

Aemond did not allow a situation where his wife could fall asleep next to him in even a piece of clothing. He loved the feel of her skin pressed against him, her heartbeat, her warm breath.

They were both learning to touch each other's bodies, looking for interesting positions and enjoying everything they could. To his and her delight, they teased each other constantly, their shameless and unholy words driving each other insane.

Aemond knew that their love was fiery, and that he would never have known that pleasure with any other woman. Lady Stark read him like an open book and, to his despair, used all his weaknesses to drive him mad.

Often when they were lying down after their closeness, Aemond would light a candle, take a book, and teach her the Old Valyrian language. She loved those lessons when they were naked, hugging each other.

Aemond read her individual sentences, then translated them. Then she tried to pronounce it, imitating his accent. They read short phrases together, and when a word she already knew came up, he questioned her about its meaning, so that she would consolidate her knowledge. To his satisfaction, she was very eager to learn and had an easy time recreating the correct sounds.

When they were alone, he sometimes spoke to her in that language as well, wanting her to get used to the sound of it. To his delight, she was able to formulate simple answers on her own, and she delivered them flawlessly.

One afternoon during training, he couldn't concentrate after she'd told him earlier that she'd like to try something different with him. The thought of it excited him greatly. Two hours of fighting seemed like an eternity to him. Even though Criston and he usually had a chat afterward about what they were going to practice the next day, he brushed him off this time, saying he had important think to do.

He entered his chamber, hot and excited. When he saw her body on his bed, how she pushed herself up on her elbows when she saw him, he felt his manhood throbbing wildly in his pants. She must have noticed it, because she smiled, amused.

"You came back early today, husband." She said innocently and softly as she sat down on her lap, only a transparent, thin nightgown on her body. He could clearly see the outline of her breasts, which he now sucked and caressed so often with his mouth. He swallowed hard at the sight and walked over to her, his expression impassive.

He took her chin gently in his hand and lifted it to make her look at him. For all the innocence on her face, he knew what she was capable of. What she said and did with him in bed. His cock throbbed again at the thought.

"What did you want to show me, my sweet wife?" He asked matter-of-factly, trying to hide his excitement, knowing what is really hidden under her sweetness. A vein throbbed hard in his throat, betraying the rapid beating of his heart.

Lady Stark took his hand in hers and kissed it tenderly, reverently. Aemond's mouth dropped open at the sight. She often did that, before and after their intimacy. She constantly showed him her total devotion, which turned him on even more.

She rose on her lap, undoing the buckles of his leather jacket one by one. He swallowed silently at the sight, his fingers brushing lightly over her neck and shoulder. He felt a shiver go through her.

She took off his jacket and shirt and told him to take off his pants. Once he was completely naked in front of her, she pulled him to her and they kissed hungrily, his tongue immediately sliding into her mouth. He was hard all day because of what she told him. Y/N pulled away from him and looked at him excitedly.

"Lie on your back, my prince." She said with a warm smile, her eyes shining. Aemond swallowed hard. Until now, even though he had also taken her from the side and from behind, enjoying the sight of her beautiful body and his cock penetrating her with all his strenght, she had never sat on him.

He didn't want to propose it to her, it reminded him of the whores Aegon had taken him to visit once, and who had ridden him for hours, and he, discouraged, wished only to leave.

But now, with her, her words made him feel hot. He obediently did as she told him. He decided not to take off the blindfold. He did it sometimes when she felt like it, let her take it off whenever she wanted, but he never took it off of his own accord.

Aemond's lips parted lustfully as Lady Stark, looking him straight in the eye, took off her nightgown, leaving her naked, her loose hair swept back.

She scooted over to him and straddled him, pursed her lips in satisfaction. He could see that she had obviously been preparing for this for a long time and wanted to do it very much. The thought turned him on even more.

She noticed this because she smiled in amusement and pressed her warm, wet entrance against his manhood, massaging him up and down. Aemond gasped at the sensation and grabbed her hips, moving with her. He liked being able to see her body in all its glory.

"I thought, my husband, my prince, that I would also like to be a dragonrider." She said quietly and timidly, moving slowly on him, an innocent smile on her face, her hands resting on his chest. Aemond looked at her in surprise and swallowed softly.

"I don't understand, my wife. Do you wish to have your own dragon?" He asked in disbelief, wanting to make sure he understood correctly. He frowned as she laughed lightly at his words.

She rose slightly, taking his manhood in her hand. They both moaned low as she slowly began to lower herself onto him, his tip entering her easily.

"No, my prince. I want to ride the greatest dragon in the Kingdom." She said, teasing him, bouncing up and down a little bit without putting herself all over him. They both gasped at the delicious sensation, his hands tightening on her buttocks, he listened in disbelief.

"You once told me that a dragon cannot be stolen, that it must be tamed." She whispered, lowering herself all over him, and he moaned loudly, throwing his head back slightly. His chest heaved in an uneven rhythm, and he stared at her uncomprehendingly.

"Lykiri, ñuha valzȳrys. Lykiri. (Easy, my husband. Easy.)” She whispered tenderly, seeing how it affected him. She grinned widely as his eye widened in shock. Only now did he understand what she meant.

His jaw clenched, his cock throbbing painfully inside her. He gripped her hips tightly and thrust into her with brutal force, causing both of them to moan loudly in pleasure. He knew, that she decided to drive him insane. He stared at her with his mouth parted, knowing inside himself that she could ride him like that every night.

"How could I deny myself the pleasure of riding the largest dragon in Westeros?" She asked, lowering herself on top of him and rising in a quick, sharp rhythm, the wet sounds of her hot cunt echoing around the room. They both began to breathe louder, he lifted his legs and bent them at the knees, his hands tightening on her buttocks, forcing her to speed up.

"Do you want me to tame you, my husband?" She asked softly, panting heavily, plunging violently against him, stuffing herself to the brim with him, rubbing where she needed it. Aemond watched with his mouth parted as his cock disappeared and reappeared deep inside her with a wet sound.

"Do you want your wife to ride you?” She whispered, her skin glistened with sweat, her lips were slightly parted with desire, a slight smile appeared on her face.

Aemond moaned low at her words and looked at her pleadingly. He fucked her brutally, lowering her hips on himself with great force. He didn't have the strength to lie to her or to himself, he felt wonderful, her words aroused in him an unbearable heat.

"Yes… yes, gods, I want it" He said helplessly, panting heavily, feeling that if he kept going like this, he wouldn't last long. He watched her breasts rise up and down with a wet slap, grabbed one of them in his hand and began to squeeze it, not slowing down, her hot, tight cunt pressing mercilessly on him.

"Dohaeris, valzȳrys (Obey, husband)" She moaned with satisfaction seeing how much he was turned on by what she was doing. He looked at her pleadingly, panting as they fucked hard, their wet bodies hitting each other fast and greedily, his belly wet with her juices. They both moaned loudly, feeling that a few more moves and they would come.

"Qogralbar nyke (Fuck me), Aemond, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me” She moaned almost like a prayer, his animal groan startled both her and him, he pushed his cock inside her a few more times and they both came moving in pleasure, panting and moaning helplessly, their hands clenching their bodies as his hot semen spilled inside her.

"Fuck!" He gasped in despair, throwing his head back, he had never had such a strong orgasm before. He was furious with himself for coming inside her, but he couldn't help it, it felt too good. They both panted as they looked at each other, her hand touching his cheek tenderly.

"Don't worry, my dragon. From the books I read, I learned that a few days before a moon bleeding, a woman has little chance of becoming pregnant. I told you I was well prepared."

_____

If you want to be tagged in the next parts, let me know. ~

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @namoreno @dreamlandcreations @darkenchantress @moira-strangle-me-please @yentroucnagol @cloudroomblog @thehumanistsdiary @a-beaverhausen @avadakadabra93

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thomasyardley · 3 years ago

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TASK IV: Family Ties

All details regarding the nature of Lord Thomas Yardley’s relationships with the persons below listed has been extracted either from his personal correspondence, or the texts: The Noble House of Falmouth and Retellings of My Life and Other Stories (T. Yardley).

Lord Philip Yardley, 3rd Viscount Falmouth. Father, deceased.

Only the poor involve themselves in the raising of their young: as is tradition amongst aristocrats, Lord Philip entrusted the care of his children to a variety of nurses and tutors. His contact with his two sons throughout their childhood was so scarce that Thomas cannot place him in any vivid memory before the age of ten. A man of few words, perhaps to compensate for his wife’s exuberance, he mostly relied on minimal facial expressions–curt nods, slightly raised eyebrows or narrowed eyes–as means of communication. Not one to loosen his serious front, if he was ever possessed by a fatherly instinct, he made excellent work of concealing it. Naturally, he supervised Philip more closely than he did Thomas, though this ‘supervision’ was often limited to stern glances across the table whenever his eldest had said or done something reprehensible. His youngest usually received no glances at all. Despite his distance, Thomas never thought his father an unpleasant man, for even as a child he valued independence a great deal and nobody knew how to let him be quite so well as his Papa.

Lady Alice Yardley (née Wentworth), Dowager Viscountess Falmouth. Mother.

Following her husband’s example, Lady Alice declined any part in the upbringing of her infant sons. In her view, young children ought to be secluded until having reached the age of intelligent conversation: only then may they be allowed back to their parents’ side. It was no secret–she voiced it often–that she found her Philip far more agreeable than little Thomas, so quiet, so serious. She suspected, however–and told everyone as much–that Philip’s sunny disposition resulted from a severe lack of discernment, whereas Thomas, if anything, understood more than he should. Despite her proclaiments, the similarities between herself and her youngest were and still are undeniable, if not immediately evident: they share the same eyes, equally restless and equally blue; the way each attempts to stifle laughter, a skill perfected by force of Philip’s frequently senseless interventions, is nearly identical; they both favour honesty, although she practices hers decidedly more boldly than him.

Lord Philip Yardley, 4th Viscount Falmouth. Brother, deceased.

Never was there in Falmouth a more good-natured man than the fourth Viscount. Fourth Philip on his father’s line, Thomas’ brother did not gain a single enemy in the entire course of his life. Five years apart, the two didn’t enjoy the affinity particular to brothers close in age, nor the paternal dynamic established between a boy and a sufficiently younger sibling. In the absence of an especially strong bond, there was fondness–Philip was attentive to him in a way his parents had either not known or cared to be. Although they saw each other less and less with time, Thomas’ correspondence to Falmouth during his Oxford years and beyond continued to be addressed mostly to his brother. He succumbed to an outbreak of consumption in early 1799, which also claimed the lives of five household staff members.

Lady Ellen Yardley, the other Dowager Viscountess Falmouth. Sister-in-law.

In a letter to his friend, Mr. Edward Blake, during the summer of 1792, Thomas conveyed the news of his brother’s recent marriage, explaining: "what a mistake he has made! Never have I witnessed a pair so ill-suited to each other. While my brother is prone to making hasty decisions–as you know, he isn’t fond of prolonged reflection–, his attachment to this lady is beyond all comprehension. Nonetheless, sir, I must say: I look forward to introducing her to you. Not that I expect the experience to bring you any pleasure (it will not, most assuredly), I simply wish for you to extract your own judgment so that my present agitation may be fully understood–and shared". Thomas’ first impression of Lady Ellen: shallow, brash, and wholly incompatible with his brother, gentleness personified, has not wavered over the years. If anything, it has solidified.

#the second son;task #thomas;family #the second son;about

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fortheloveoffanfic · 5 years ago

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Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x reader (A/n- Things are looking grim ahead , please don’t kill me.) (Chapter Summary- Y/n’s wedding day arrives, and contrary to popular belief, its not really every girl’s dream)

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Warnings- Angst, like, lots of it.

Chapter 16

6 Weeks Later A calming breath, slow blinking and a palm pressed firmly to the center of her chest. It was usually enough to ground her when she needed it, but that morning, it wasn’t nearly enough. The hand that wasn’t firmly at her chest clutched a fistful of her silk robe, scrunching the smooth material between her fingers, hoping that all the anxious energy would travel from her fingers to the garment.

Y/n had always dreamed of her wedding as a child. When they were kids, she and Jillian would take turns throwing each other pretend weddings; Y/n had been married to her family’s dog well over a dozen times. And as she’d grown into a teenager, Y/n had fantasized about what it would be like when the day actually came; how old would she be? Would she be head over heels for him? Would he be everything she dreamed of or a pleasant surprise? Though, she never thought that it wouldn’t be her choice, that she wouldn’t really love the man at the top of the altar and have someone else on her mind while she got ready to say ‘I do’.

But there she was, locked in the bathroom of her old bedroom, near having a panic attack. Tears weren’t falling, but her breaths were heavier than usual and her stomach churned ominously. Y/n wanted to run away, disappear, anything really. “Honey?” It was Catherine, knocking on the bathroom door, sounding worried as ever, “Everything okay?”

It took a minute, Y/n knew that if she spoke immediately, she’d give herself away, though, maybe she’d done that when she hastily ran into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, right as they’d brought the garment bag with her dress in it. “Yeah,” she eventually managed, sliding to the ground, barely hitting the marble floor with a soft thud.

Everything before that had been somewhat easy to fake; the engagement party, going around for fittings and preparations, and even the rehearsal dinner. But the actual act of getting into the dress, and then taking the limo down to Vibiana? Y/n wasn’t sure if she could do it. This was a wedding, a legal commitment, something she’d be stuck in, for probably the rest of her life.

“I don’t want to rush you,” Catherine probed gently, “But we’re running late already, the guys are going to be leaving for the ceremony in a bit-”

“Sweetie, you’re mom’s being a bitch, and she really wants to get this shit show on the road,” that was Tracy, who’d flown in like the rest of her girlfriends to be a part of the bridal party, “Maybe if I get you some whisk-”

“Trace!” Jillian snapped, scolding her, “Aunt Heather will kill us if we get her drunk and-”

“Will both of you just shut up?” Amanda hissed, proceeding to direct her attention to Y/n, who still sat, huddled on the bathroom floor, “Y/n/n, I know this probably isn’t what you wanted, and I wish, we all wish,” she corrected, “That this was different for you, but its not, and locking yourself in a bathroom isn’t gonna change that. Now, you can get outta there, and stand up to your mom and stop this before it gets worse. Or you can come out and go through with it. But you can not stay in there.”

Standing abruptly, Y/n cleared her cheeks of any fallen moisture, then pulled the door open with renewed, though frustrated vigor, “You think I haven’t tried that?” Y/n didn’t know where the swell of anger came from, but suddenly, it was there and she couldn’t contain it, “I have tried breaking the rules, standing to them, fighting for what I want, and this is what I’ve gotten. So I’m sorry if I’d rather stay in there than get stuck in a loveless marriage.”

Everyone stared at her and Amanda sighed heavily, “Babe,” her voice broke, half from being startled by Y/n’s outburst and the other for seeing her friend distressed, “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Deep red lips quivered as she nodded, the anger disappearing as quickly as it surged up, replaced by her recently usual despair, “I know,” she admitted tearily, grabbing Amanda in a hug, which everyone else inevitably joined, “I just….”

“We know,” Jillian assured. They stayed like that for a while, holding Y/n in the center of a swirling ball of sisterly affection, but as long as all good things come to an end, so did their prolonged group hug, “So what are you gonna do?”

Y/n mulled on it for a minute, knowing that there was only one answer to the question; running away would get her family’s name dragged in a scandal, and possibly Keanu’s too, and putting her foot down and not marrying Daniel might just get her disowned. Everything had repercussions and the last thing she wanted for everyone else’s image to go up in flames with hers. This was bigger than her, it always was. “What I have to do,” she’d put up a good fight at the beginning, but every other solution would just make things worse; Y/n was their only child, she had responsibilities and they were her parents, “I’m gonna marry him.”

An uncomfortable silence clung to the room and it felt like everyone was trying to accept the faith with her, sharing in the heaviness of the burden. Though, while Y/n appreciated the solidarity, it wouldn’t help her, so, straightening her back, she looked towards the very large garment bag laid on the bed, next to several white boxes held closed with silk ribbons, all containing additions for the dress. “That’s it?” She pointed a manicured nail towards the clutter, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah,” Jillian sighed, joining Catherine as she went over to pick up the bag and bring it over “Ready to put it on?”

Slowly, and reluctantly, Y/n nodded, “As I’ll ever be.” Those were the last words exchanged among the group, and not too long after, the zipper of the bag was being pulled down, revealing a gorgeous white, satin and tulle, ballgown wedding dress. The sweetheart neckline gracefully led to off the shoulder sleeves while hours upon hours worth of hand-sewn, delicate, pale gold details with pearls and rhinestones only added to the gown’s obvious beauty and finally, the train stretched for at least four feet, more intricate embellishments beautifully leading to the hem.

Getting into it alone was a task; the gown was heavy and even between the five of them, it was hard to sort the top from the bottom when they pooled it on the floor so Y/n could step in through the open top. The daunting task was eventually overcome though, and eventually, Catherine and Jillian were helping Y/n pull it up over her delicate, white bridal lingerie while Tracy and Amanda worked on getting out the veil at the jeweled hair piece meant to hold it in place.

“Have you gained weight?” Jillian queried absently as she did up the back of Y/n’s dress.

“What?” She scoffed, incredulously and obviously offended. When she’d tried the dress on a few weeks ago, at the final fitting, it had been fine. Then again, so much had happened since that day, and everything had been so much of a blur that Y/n hadn’t even been paying attention to her weight, she’d really just unconsciously assumed it was going to stay the same. “I don’t know,” she shrugged, trying to look back and meet Jillian’s puzzled gaze, “Maybe?”

“I...uh,” Jillian stuttered, now aided by Catherine in fixing the corset inspired back-work, “Okay,” she declared, “My bad, I think I might have laced it up too tight before.”

Exhaling audibly, Y/n nodded slowly, relieved; the last thing she wanted was to have to explain to her mother that the custom made, designer wedding gown that they’d put on rushed demand couldn’t fit because she’d unknowingly gained a couple pounds. Knowing Heather, she'd probably think that Y/n was intentionally sabotaging the day anyway.

Immediately after that was over, Y/n was whisked to her vanity, sitting patiently as Tracy and Amanda added the finishing touches to her hair so they could perfectly place the veil. Through the mirror, Y/n spectated as Tracy lowered a rose gold and diamond floral tiara to her hair. She’d read somewhere that it was usually the bride’s mother that did that; adding the decor to the bride’s hair. But Y/n hadn’t even seen her mother since the rehearsal the night before, and even then, she’d been too busy barking orders at the wait staff or on her phone, making sure everything was in order at the venue. In fact, throughout the entire ordeal, Y/n hadn’t even gotten a single strand of motherly advice from Heather, and it went without saying that she wasn’t planning on coming to help Y/n get ready.

A huge part of Y/n wished that Heather was different, that she was the kind of mother that she could go to about anything, who’d give her advice and wouldn’t force her to marry someone just to block a relationship with someone Y/n loved. Y/n loved her mother, she did, but, then more than ever, she wished she was someone else, someone who cared. But Heather was who she was, and Y/n had to pay the price.

“And in other news; heiress Y/n Warren is carded to marry Daniel Wang; the son of business magnate; Li Jian Wang and former model; Alice Wang. The ceremony is due to start within the next hour at Vibiana in-” Keanu turned the television off, tossing the remote to the coffee table before heading towards the kitchen, nearly empty coffee cup in hand. As he set the mug down in the sink, Keanu gripped the lip of the counter, casting his head down, letting himself wallow in the feeling of loss. He’d seen Y/n just the night before, but she hadn’t been herself; even after getting engaged to Daniel, she’d still managed to enjoy their stolen moments together, but that night she’d been in a sour mood and had snapped at him twice, cried once and had eventually apologized, blaming her behavior on a headache. Keanu didn’t take any of it to heart though, knowing that try as he might, he couldn’t begin to understand what she was going though, and the least he could do was be there for her, be her sweet escape.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting too though; the only woman he had thought of getting serious with for the first time in a while was getting married, and it wasn’t to him. With a huff, Keanu pushed away from the sink; knowing that wallowing wouldn’t get him very far, he decided to go have a shower and then get ready for a ride. He wouldn’t call his friends for that one, not in the mood for company, instead, Keanu would just go out on his own, hoping the rush of wind in his face and the open road would help him clear his head and shake off the despair.

He was nearing the staircase, just about to start getting ready when Linda, his housekeeper, caught him, “Mr. Reeves?” He hummed absently in response, shifting his gaze to her. Linda was an older woman and she’d worked for him since he’d bought his house nearly fifteen years ago. By then, she’d become more than just the woman who cleaned up after him, putting up with his occasional bouts of sloppiness without protest, she had become a friend, someone who’s opinion he trusted. “Amanda,” his assistant, “Dropped this off, she said it came late yesterday.” In her outstretched hand, she held a little parcel, and upon reliving her of it, Keanu found that it wasn’t particularly heavy either.

“What is…..” impatient, Keanu tore the tape off the top, ripping the brown box open and shifting around the bubble wrap hastily, his face falling when he finally dug out a little jewelry box, “Oh,” he shook his head.

Worried, Linda mirrored his frown, strands of dull blonde hair falling out of her loose bun as she tilted her head, regarding him thoughtfully “Is everything okay?” When Keanu didn’t respond, simply standing there, with his head down cast and his thumb ghosting the foreign, gold-threaded inscription on the top of the little grey box, she swallowed thickly, “It’s for her isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he choked out, eyes stinging once again and emotion thickening his words. He’d ordered the necklace after they’d returned from New York, when Y/n wasn’t engaged and when they were blissfully unaware of the turmoil that lay in wait. She’d loved it so much, and Keanu had desperately wanted to see her get that excited over something, and show that he remembered, even if they'd both been drunk out of their better senses when they first saw it. But surely, he couldn't do that now, she was getting married within the hour, "I'll have to get rid of it later," he mused, more to himself.

"You're just going to throw it away?" Linda scoffed, folding her arms across her apron clad chest, "You need to give it to her."

Keanu chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head, "Give it to her?" Moistening his lips, Keanu brushed the thought off, "Yeah, I'll just go to the wedding, give to her and send her down the aisle with a kiss. I don't even have an invitation."

"You're Keanu Reeves and you need an invitation?" Linda rolled her clear blue eyes, shaking her head, "Are you really willing to let your last chance just pass you by like this? You need to go down there and give it your best," sighing heavily, she went on a bit firmer, "I've been with you for fifteen years, I've you bring women here and I've seen them walk out of here like it didn't even matter, but I've never seen you care for one the way you care for Y/n. You make each other happy, you love each other. So, you need to get down there and speak your piece, it'll do you both some good. Or at the very least, you'll get closure."

Keanu pondered on Linda's advice for a moment, eventually nodding slowly, "Yeah," he sighed, defeated, "Thanks Linda," gently hitting the railing with his fist, Keanu started the journey up the stairs.

Upon reaching his bedroom, Keanu dumped the box on his made sheets, pulling his t-shirt over his head about to get into the shower. That was, until he decided to flop onto the bed, feeling around until he found the jewelry box again, opening it to stare at the byzantine pendant. Even with Linda’s advice, Keanu didn’t have any intention of going to Y/n’s wedding. What was the use anyway? Going down there would only hurt them both and Keanu didn’t think he could stand the pain or even see it reflected her eyes. She’d already spent too much tears on him.

For what felt like hours, Keanu laid there, the box eventually falling to his chest as he succumbed to a fretful midday nap, soft snores adding to the sound of his even breathing and dreams of Y/n running rampant. In his dreams she was his, there wasn’t heartbreak or fights, no one stood in their way. They could just be, together, happy and in love. But at some point, even the dreams turned troubling, starting to mirror their reality, tempestuous and painful to bear. She was leaving, yelling about how he didn’t fight for her, how she was being taken away and he hadn’t even helped. In his dream turned nightmare, Keanu tried to say something, anything that would soothe her sobs, but nothing would come, his lips were sealed shut.

When Keanu awoke with a startle, his eyes instantly went wide and he could help the guilt that rose up in his being. It was getting dark out, but there was still time, he had to do something.

The party was in full swing. People were dancing, others were chatting and almost everyone was drinking. Daniel had momentarily left her side to go involve himself in the antics of his cousin's children; dancing and playing games with them. Y/n hadn't interacted much since the reception began, though she didn't think anyone noticed. The glass of champagne in her had was probably her fifth for the evening, but she had only just started to feel the slightest tingle, the makings of emotional numbness.

For a while more, she sat at the head table, in her designated chair, which was meant to look like a small throne, with gold painted carvings and floral decorations about it, sinking deeper and deeper into her thoughts. The ceremony hadn't been as bad as she'd imagined it, her father had given her away, they’d read their rehearsed, somewhat impersonal vows with soft violin music as their background and when she and Daniel had kiss after they'd first been pronounced man and wife, their guests had clapped haughtily. All in all, it was a beautiful affair, Y/n's only despondence laid with who she'd had to share it with.

Daniel wasn't Keanu.

Taking a long drag from her flute of bubbly, Y/n jumped when her mother touched her shoulder, her cold grip growing firmer when she leaned near Y/n's ear, "Did you tell him to come here?" A harsh urgency hung heavy in her tone. She and Heather had barely spoken all day and Y/n found it almost laughable that the first full sentence she said to her would be about something she had no clue on.

"What?" Y/n scrunched her nose, annoyed, "Who are you talking about?"

"Him," Heather pointed accusingly to the farthest corner of the large ballroom. Y/n couldn’t believe that she hadn’t noticed him before, but there Keanu stood, reclused from the rest of their guests, dark strands falling over his face, hands in the pockets of his black slacks and staring right her, looking smolderingly handsome and attractively broody, “Did you ask him to come here?” Heather was insistent, even if she’d probably already made up her mind on the matter.

“You think I’d ask him to come here so you’d have something else to bitch about?” Y/n sneered, she was at her limit with her mother’s demands and insults and the only thing keeping her from screaming that the entire day was a sham was the fear of embarrassment and ultimately being kicked to the curb by her dad.

“Do not take that tone with me,” her mother warned, the little vein on her forehead standing out, a clear sign that she was already at her rope’s end, “You need to deal with this, now.”

For a minute, Y/n stared at her mother defiantly, partly wondering how they could even be related. She wanted to yell at her, throw a fit, something. Y/n’s jaw clenched as the urge intensified, but that wasn’t a fight she would win, she’d never win. Without another word, she stood, the chair scraping loudly on the marble floor, gathering heaps of her dress in her fists before stomping out of the nearest exit. Y/n bypassed Keanu, hoping he’d get the message and follow her. He did, staying a few paces behind until they’d broken out onto a balcony several feet away from the party, hopefully safe from prying eyes and intrusive disturbances.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n spun just as Keanu shut the glass door behind himself.

Absently, he shook his head, drinking her in, thinking of how gorgeous she looked it white, how much it hurt knowing that it wasn’t for him. He looked so lost and pained, his striking features pain stricken and his eyes red. Y/n looked like that before they made her up that morning and just like that, her anger was melting, he was already as hurt as she was, Y/n couldn’t stand to make it worse. “I…..” Keanu’s breath caught breath caught in his throat, and deciding that he probably wouldn’t get anything else out, he reached for the inner breast pocket of his sport coat, eventually producing a little box, “I got you something,” he choked out.

“No,” Y/n walked backwards into the brass railing, “You shouldn’t have done that, Ke, you shouldn’t even be here…...this….I….” She was supposed to be ending things, not encouraging them.

“Please,” he pleaded, taking a couple steps forward but still leaving a little space between them. Keanu knew that he should say more, but he couldn’t find the words, “I just need to give this one last shot.”

“You can’t,” hot tears prickled at Y/n’s eyes, threatening to fall as she put her foot down. She couldn’t let him finish, if he said what he wanted to, Y/n knew that she’d be gone, that she’d want nothing more that to give up her life to be a part of his. But she couldn’t just do that, it was wrong, at least, that was what she’d been taught, “It’s over Keanu, we’re over.”

“Don’t say that,” he begged.

Shaking her head, Y/n hastily swiped at her eyes, “It’s the truth. I’m sorry, but you need to go,” the words felt like battery acid on her tongue and would poison her memories forever, “We can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep doing this,” the running around, hiding, everything else. It was too complicated, they’d get into too much trouble. “I need to get back, and you need to leave,” already she was trying to walk off.

“Just kiss me one last time,” Keanu pleaded, grabbing her forearm, just below the sleeve of her dress, draped over Y/n’s delicate shoulder. His hold was a little firmer than he’d planned, but it was all in a show of his desperation. He didn’t want her to go, if she left, it’d be over, and Keanu didn’t want it to be over. Maybe it was too late, maybe he’d change her mind.

Y/n licked her lips, tears clouding her vision and her lips quivering ever so slightly. It would only hurt more to let him go if she did it, but Y/n didn’t think it would be right to end the past few months so abruptly. So, instead of denying him, Y/n let Keanu draw her in, submitting without hesitation when Keanu secured his strong arms around her waist. The warmth, the security, everything down to the physical feeling and his smell; she’d miss it all. Her heart raced in a way that was absent the very first time they’d shared affections and Keanu’s nerves were starting to get the better of him, his hands shaking and his knees weak.

This was it, their last kiss.

“I love you,” he breathed, gravitating towards Y/n the way snow fell to the earth, so slow that neither of them was sure it was happening. In turn, Y/n tilted her head, allowing him access, her lips awaiting his.

Her slow blinks were in an effort to stop tears that came nonetheless and her pain weighed the words down when Y/n finally returned them, “I love you too. I’ll always love you,” she had to be sure that Keanu knew, there couldn’t be even a shadow of doubt in the phrase, for it would ache her soul if they’d gone on with any indecision.

“I know,” he assured, and before either of them knew it, Keanu’s lips were brushing hers, like the slightest breeze on water, rousing reaction but still barely there. The moment felt fragile and singular and Y/n could feel everything; the chilly evening air on her mostly bare arms, the dewiness of nightfall but above all, Keanu’s heartbeat, beating in time with hers, reminding them both that those moments spent on the balcony belonged not none other but the two of them.

Again, he brushed his lips with hers and really, their endearment only deepened when one of Y/n’s hands rose to tangle in his dark locks, silky strands laced with lithe fingers while the fingertips of her other hand steadied his jaw. Keanu’s grip firmed up, a silent plea for their kiss to be prolonged. Their tongues tangled, dancing around each other and their salty tears mixed. It was everything packed into one gesture, love, loss and a pain that would last a lifetime. Two bleeding hearts intertwined, souls connecting and beginning to not be broken apart.

How could it be over, when forever together wouldn’t be long enough?

“Please,” he whimpered pitifully when they broke. Keanu could have sworn that he felt his heart break when Y/n eventually untangled from his hold.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, her thumb ghosting the apple of his cheek, the warmth of her touch lingering even as Y/n moved her hands. The ache was excruciating and Y/n knew that the minute she said it, she’d never be the same; the heartbreak was one she’d carry to her grave and the look on Keanu’s face was branded to her mind as a punishment for the consequence for things that were out of her control. “Goodbye,” she managed, scuttling back towards the hallway, hoping to seek refuge in some empty room or the other.

“Goodbye Y/n,” Keanu breathed, though, he knew she was gone and hadn’t heard it. Scrubbing one hand over his face, Keanu moved to lean on the guardrail, letting the emotion take him, sobbing softer than Y/n had been. He hadn’t realized it before, but he was still holding onto the box. The urge to throw it, or just open in and destroy the necklace tried to consume him, but he simply couldn’t. Instead, he’d keep it, as a reminder of the woman he loved, the pain they’d caused each other.

He’d keep it as a memory of the woman that was gone, forever, the one he’d hold onto for the rest of his life.

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @paanchu786 @a-really-bi-girl @baphometwolf666 @sdaff2 @green-forest-dreams @weird-civilian @magnificentclodpiebanana

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #ff #john wick #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #fanfic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #lullaby #chapter 16

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chaoticgothicwiccanchik · 5 years ago

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Type of Post: Fanfiction

Main Fandom: Harry Potter

Side Fandom: Sherlock(BBC), Dexter(TV)

Story Summary & Information: This is what I think would've happened if Lily and James had three sons instead of one. I gave Harry one older brother named Charles and a younger brother named Evan.

This story will also be a minor crossover with a few other fandoms. I say minor because it will mostly have the children of the MC in some other fandoms mention their parents.

For example, this will be a Dexter crossover because Dexter's son Harrison will attend Hogwarts in the same year as Harry (I know Dexter is set in America but I change the fandom slightly to fit this, also in my story S1 ended differently and anything after S5 never happened). This will be a Sherlock crossover because John's daughter Rosie is in Charles' year (also Fred and George's year)(also Johnlock is mentioned). I may also reference other fandoms but those are the two that matter as the Potter brothers will be interacting with their children and maybe sometimes them. You do not have to have watched Sherlock or Dexter to read this fic, maybe just do a basic Google search and you'll be good to go.

Chapter 1- Potters Fate

Straight out of Hogwarts Lily Evans married James Potter and to the jealousy of her older sister Petunia got pregnant right away. (Though Petunia would later say Lily must have gotten knocked up in school and was trying to hide it. How shameful, in her fine opinion.) The Potters were overjoyed as James' parents were getting quite on in years and wanted to be sure their family had an heir. With such a fine, young, and fertile bride, the elder Potters could be quite content their family would survive the next few generations. James and Lily named the boy, Charles Fleamont Cadmar Potter, he had James' hair and eyes but would grow to have many of Lily's facial features.

Just as Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were on their death beds, Lily fell pregnant again, another boy, Henry James Hyacinth Potter. These were dark times to be living in but James' parents died with the hope that their two grandsons would live to see a better future. (Petunia also sent a scathing letter to Lily that contained news of Dudley Dursley's birth but mentioned several times she had waited a few years into her marriage to have a child "like a proper born woman.") Shortly after Harry was born the Potters moved several times every few weeks as Dumbledore had informed them of a prophecy which Voldemort thought was referring to Harry.

While on the run Lily took the entire Potter family library with her sorted into several trunks, sorted by subject, then date, then author names alphabetically. One trunk however contained only books written/edited by members of the Potter family, it was these books that had Lily hunched over a table looking desperately for an answer. According to many spell crafters research, the Killing Curse was so effective because it simply killed you, there were no injures that could possibly be healed, no poisons to find an antidote to, you simply die. Many of the same researchers theorized that this was because the curse didn't just kill you, it tore your soul from your body.

For many years the Potter family specialized in soul and blood magic, until the Ministry banned such arts a few centuries ago. Aegeus Potter, one of James' great-grandfather, had entirely disagreed with the laws and argued heavily against them. When the laws finally went through due to the votes of one of the Potter House rivals, Basil Livington, Aegeus hid the real books on Soul and Blood magic and gave the Ministry some fake books and journals he messed with so they couldn't read it anyways. "Potter family magik, you understand Livington? Even if I have to give it away I can't let anyone else read it." And so the Potters had taken up Transfiguration as their new family magiks instead.

Lily smirked, she really did love the family she had married into. The books on soul magic disappointingly did not contain much extra knowledge on the Killing Curse, they did however contain several draughts which could heal a person who had suffered the other Unforgivables to their previous state. According to the Potters, the other two curses were soul magic as well, the Cruciatus targeting your souls ability to function in this world and the Imperius targeting your souls will to live freely and crushing your spirit. Disappointed, Lily jotted those potions down and closed the books on soul magic.

It felt as if all her work was for nothing, she had been searching and searching for a way to have her children survive and there was nothing. Lily had tried convincing James to leave the country and stay gone until Charles was ready for Hogwarts or the war ended but James was adamant about staying to fight...not that they did much fighting these days. James was so confident, he thought they would win and it would all be okay. Lily wished she had such faith, such hope.

The Lady of Potter House was also unsure about how much longer she could keep this next secret from her husband...she had fallen pregnant again. In these dark times, with two children already and on the run Lily wondered if she should get rid of it. Could she force a child to grow up in this life? Never staying in one place, always moving, always afraid, never making any friends. Lily wasn't even sure they would get to go to Hogwarts, what if Voldemort captured it first? Would her children ever know joy? Would the other two (oh goodness she was already thinking of the baby inside her as hers) resent Harry for being the reason their family was targeted?

No! That was enough! The second Lily Marie Evans Potter let some madman dictate her actions was the second she became someone else. Lily wanted this baby, it was hers, it was a little piece of James and Lily growing inside her and Lily wanted to be his or her mother. Voldemort would not force her to give up on her dream of becoming a mother, he could not force her out of her world, Lily Potter would fight to the death if it ever came to it but she would not give up on a way to protect and save her children. (And, well, if Charles or the little one inside her ever decided to be angry with Harry because he happened to be apart of some prophecy then Lily would just have to be a mother and explain the them that it was not Harry's fault and that it was always the fault of the murderer, not the one they intended to murder.) With a renewed sense of passion, Lily began to go through the blood magic books, leave no stone unturned, there must be something that could help.

-~-~

James was ecstatic when he found out Lily was pregnant again. They threw a big party with the rest of the order. Sirius was made godfather again with Lily choosing Alice Longbottom as godmother (Charles' godmother was Pandora Lovegood and Harry's was Marlene McKinnon.) Lily was worried her choices of godparents would either die in the war so she chose three separate ones just in case. Surely not all of these people would die if she did? Right? James laughed it off and said Sirius would be alright. Sometimes she thought her husband didn't get the point. The party was also partly a naming ceremony because the Potters doubted there'd be another opportunity. It was decided that a boy would be named Evan Godfrey Elijah Potter and a girl would be named Amethyst Evelyn Astor Potter.

There was some good news, Lily had found a way to protect her children. Within the Potter books about blood magic there was a ritual often called the Ritual of Love. There was a protector and a protectee, the protector had to make several potions involving some blood from the protector, willingly given. The protectee (or protectees, in one case an older brother used this on all four of his younger sisters) must drink the potion while the protector drew a soul-symbol over their heart to symbolize the love the protector must feel for the protectee. The protector would then place the protectee in a symbol meant to represent their relationship. This would ensure that if the protector shielded one protectee from any kind of magical attack the attacker would then have their attack rebound on them and would no longer be able to touch any of the protectees, even if the protector was only shielding one. There seemed to be a few downsides to this plan, Lily would die meaning she could no longer protect them from anything else (what if Voldemort sent one of his lackeys to kill her children but the others and himself were free to do so?), Lily had no idea what symbol would represent herself and her children (easily fixed, find something to do with motherhood or sons), and there was no recorded incident of it being used to shield the killing curse (what if it didn't work?!).

Because this ritual could only be used once Lily would have to wait until the new baby was born. She also picked out several different symbols in case the child was a girl and the one to do with mothers and sons was no longer applicable. "Don't worry baby," Lily whispered rubbing her swollen stomach. "Mommy won't let anyone hurt you or your big brothers." Then she sighed and added "Hopefully I won't have to die for you to be safe."

-~-~

Charles wasn't sure what had happened. It had been Halloween and Daddy was shooting sparks up in the air and Mommy was laughing. Harry and Evan were being their usual baby selves. Mommy said Charles had to be patient with them because they were small and couldn't do as much as he could. Charles could do lots, he could runs and speak with big words and ride a toy broom alone and climb Daddy's deer antlers. Harry and Evan couldn't do that though, they were small but that was okay 'cause Charles was a big boy and he would teach his little brothers to be big boys too! (But not bigger than him because he was the big brother.)

Anyways, what was he talking about? Oh, yeah, yeah. There was a weird man at the door and Mommy suddenly started actin' scared like something was gonna hurt her. But that was silly because she was Mommy and Mommy's weren't supposed to be scared. Mommy told him to run real fast up to Harry and Evan's room and Charles did. (Mommy had to carry Harry and Evan because they were big boys yet like Charles and couldn't run up the stairs like he could.) Charles thought it was weird though, Mommy told him he wasn't 'posed to run up and down the stairs. Maybe it was different because they only ran up once?

Bangs and shouts chased them up the stairs and Charles reminded himself not to be scared, it sounded like thunder and Mommy said thunder didn't hurt. Mommy was still scared and she placed Harry and Evan inside the big crib where Harry slept. Mommy picked him up to put him inside the crib too, that was when he complained, "I'm too big Momma, I get the big boy bed."

That was the first time his mother ever gave him a sharp look, "Charles Potter, I need you inside this crib and I can't argue with you right now." Charles shut his mouth and let his mother put him inside the crib. Mommy had never spoken to him that way, her voice was always gentle and soft. The bangs had fallen silent and Mommy looked sad. Mommy leaned down so she was level with their tiny faces, even Evan had been sat up against Charles' tummy. "Listen very carefully, my boys, Mommy loves you, Daddy loves you. We will always love you even if we aren't around anymore." Mommy looked so afraid and Charles reached his tiny hands (big boy hands!) through the bars to touch her face. It came back wet, Mommy was crying.

There was a lot of shouting, Mommy cried, she begged to man in the odd cloak to leave them alone. Charles would remember her screams for the rest of his life. "Please not my babies! Take anyone else! Please not Harry! Take me! Kill me instead!"

And the high, cold voice which answered. "Stand aside! Move Mudblood! Stand aside you silly girl! Avada Kedavra!" And the man turned his wand on Harry. Charles made sure to wrap his arms around Harry and Evan incase they were scared but when the man pointed his wand at Harry and the green light flashed it got sent back to the man and the room exploded outwards.

-~-~

Charles didn't like this new place. These people were apparently called the Dursley's and they were his Aunt, Uncle, and cousins Dudley and Daisy. Dudley was Harry's age and Daisy was younger than Evan, she was still in Aunt Petunia's tummy when they got here. Charles, Harry and Evan all shared the littlest bedroom in the Dursley's household while Dudley and Daisy each got their own room. Whenever Charles or Harry or Evan disobeyed the Dursley's or annoyed the Dursley's or took food without asking first (the answer was always no) they were put in the cupboard until the Dursley's thought they were properly punished.

The Potter boys had chores as soon as they could walk. They cleaned the house, cooked the food as soon as Charles could reach the stove, and weeded the garden. Charles told stories to his brothers in the middle of the night, he told them all he remembered about Mommy and Daddy and what he called their real Aunts and Uncles. (He learned to only say this when all the Dursley's had gone to bed because Aunt Petunia had screamed and slapped him and Uncle Vernon had put red stripes across his back until he was bleeding with his belt.) When they didn't do the chores properly (which as often as small children could not get that much done in a day) they weren't fed. Once, Harry abandoned his chores to talk to one of the neighborhood boys, Uncle Vernon pulled off his belt and beat him until he screamed, he beat Charles too because the second he heard his little brother cry he jumped in front of Vernon and tried unsuccessfully to drive him off.

Charles tried to protect Harry and Evan but he wasn't sure he was good at it. Interrupting their punishments only got him beaten as well and if he was in the cupboard with one he couldn't protect the other. Then school happened and he was forced away from his little brothers for eight whole hours!

Something strange happened in his second year of school though. Charles had taken to staying in the library so he could read their books. Mommy was always reading books and Charles vaguely remembered her saying the books had helped Mommy save him and Harry and Evan. It probably didn't work though, Mommy was gone and if she couldn't protect herself then how could she protect them? The library didn't have any books on how to save his little brothers though. While mostly a loner as he didn't know how to talk to other children, Charles eventually realized he had to ask the librarian what he wanted to find like he'd seen some of the other kids doing.

"Mrs.Bradley? I need help finding a book but I'm not sure what it's called."

Mrs.Bradley smiled down at the polite little boy. He had been coming into the school library for over a year now, never checked anything out, just sat quietly in a chair and read for the whole of recess and lunch. He seemed a bit too thin and she had been bringing in extra sandwiches for him a few other kids, it was so sad how some families couldn't afford enough food. "What are you looking for, dear?"

"I need something to help me save my brothers." Charles said with a very serious tone.

Feeling slightly amused the old librarian smiled down at him. "Save them from what?"

She was not going to like the answer.

-~-~

On July 24th to Charles' Potter amazement he found his Hogwarts letter amidst the boring Dursley's mail. Charles had gotten rather good at looking miserable when he was happy (the Dursley's didn't like it when he was happy) so he plastered a miserable look on his face and brought his relatives his mail. The second he was aloud back in his room he tore open the Hogwarts letter and read it with gusto.

This was it! He was finally going to Hogwarts! And Harry and Evan would see--

And just like that the happiness he's been carrying beyond his miserable expression popped.

Oh. Oh no. Charles was the only one to get a letter. What if Harry and Evan couldn't come? He--he couldn't leave them here! They were brothers! They were supposed to stick together! What would Uncle Vernon do to Evan with only Harry to protect him? And Harry couldn't defend himself either! (Common sense would say that Charles couldn't either really but who listened the that?)

Still, Charles might as well write his reply to see if he could go though he didn't know where he would find an owl.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

I have a few concerns about Hogwarts I would like to ask if you have the time. First, where do I get all this supplies? I live with my muggle relatives and they aren't too fond of magic. I doubt they'd take me to a magic shop or that they even know where one is. Second, where would my brothers go while I'm at school? They can't stay here. As I said before my relatives aren't fond of magic, it would be more apt to say they hate it. I worry that if I leave my Aunt and Uncle would treat them even worse. Please reply if you have anywhere for them to stay while I'm at Hogwarts. If you do not, I would not bother. I won't leave this house if I don't know my brothers will be safe.

Sincerely, Charles Fleamont Cadmar Potter

The owl problem was fixed almost as soon as he went outside. An owl swooped down and grabbed his letter and took off with it. Hopefully it was the right owl.

Author's Note

Okay so that was Chapter 1. I usually like to try and finish a story before I post it but I've decided with this one to roll with it and post immediately. I hope I didn't make any glaring mistakes but I wrote this as soon as I got the idea and it took about 4 hrs.

Some notes for if you didn't read the summary. This story has small multicrossover parts in it. It's nothing big, just some kids from various other TV shows going to Hogwarts at the same time as the Potters. You don't have to watch any of the shows the kids are from to read this story.

Rosie Watson, John's daughter from Sherlock is in the same year as Charles, she doesn't have a big part and I don't even think I'll put her dad in at all. (Just know I ship Johnlock so she will mention having two dads and some adopted siblings I made up who aren't at all important to the story.)

Another kid, Harrison Morgan from Dexter will be in Harry's year. I know, I know, Dexter is in Miami, Florida, how did his son get an invite to a boarding school in Britain? Basically Dex took a family vacation at one point and Harrison did some accidental magic in Britain. Hogwarts picked up on it and sent him a letter. So he got one Hogwarts letter and one Ilvermorny letter and chose Hogwarts. Dex thought it was a good idea to send his son away so he would be safer away from Dexter and his enemies. (Also in my personal headcannon Brian survives past S1 but I probably won't mention it. Also I liked Lumen so I always headcannon Dex and her together so when Harrison says "Mom" he's talking about her and I have him a little brother who, again, isn't important to the story. You don't need to know who Dexter and Lumen are to enjoy the story and can consider Harrison an OC if you want.)

Those are the only other fandom kids that are important to the story but if you recognize any familiar last names from other shows who aren't in the original Harry Potter schoolmates list just ask. For example, Beatrice "Trixie" Decker from Lucifer will be in the year above Harry's but will only be mentioned attending things like DA meeting and stuff. No importance to the storyline. And yes I know Lucifer is set in LA, just refer to Harrison's answer for any questions about that.

Tell me if you have any request for a kid cameo and I'll try to grant it. For easy reading try to write it like this:

Kids name

Parents name(s)

Fandom/Fandoms

What country they are from

Any special attributes they might have

You may also include things like:

What year you want them to be in (in accordance to Harry's year)

Anything special you want them to say/do?

I'm certain if I need to find out anything else I can just use their name and the shows name to find more. I will say one thing though, no one who's not in this world. That means no Lord of the Rings, no Avatar:The Last Airbender, no Game of Thrones. It has to be set in the real world. And yes, regretfully, I will include Twilight in that as it technically fits. Want me to include your Sam and Emily, Jared and Kim, Jacob and Renessmee , any wolf and their imprints kid, I can work with that. ( I wonder how many times I'll have to use the vacation and chose the foreign school option?)

Also, no overpowered kids. I'm going to try to make everything work in the realm of possibly so no kids that can alter reality or something.

And these kids have to exist as KIDS in their respective fandom, with their parents as the main character. For example I won't use Wanda and Pietro Maximoff because although they are Magneto's children they are also adult character with their own storylines. (I refuse to accept that Magneto isn't their father. Suck it Marvel.)

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter has brothers fanfiction #minor crossover with sherlock #minor crossover with dexter #harry potter

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oh-theatre · 6 years ago

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Sycamore High: An Excuse (Chapter 37)

A/N: Hey looky here, I actually spent time and really worked hard on this chapter. I'm not proud, I don't think I'm ever proud of my writing but I did love doing this SO much. I love spending more time on writing, I used to do it and then lost that but now I'm back and hope you guys will like it! ALSO ALSO, This story is coming to end BUT there is a sequel already in the works so :)

summary: Finals Day 1

words: 3,961

warnings: Swearing, forced kissing, crying, yelling

Edited by: @theyreallidiots (Thank you so much love!! You're amazing and it means so much!)

Ao3 Link

Finals Day 1…

“Not a word of it to Ted, ok?” Chad whispered, Henry wanted to protest but the look Chad gave him made him decide otherwise. He finished cleaning up the dishes, Chad packed his things. Ted returned holding his own belongings, Chad sighed walking over to him. “Your hair...kiddo” He mumbled trying his best to fix the mess Ted called hair. Ted pouted swatting his hand away.

“Hey hey, don't mess with the signature look” He complained, reversing any work Chad had just done. Henry watched the pair, his heart tugging at him. He couldn't help but think of it. Chad had always wanted kids, he made that clear when they got together. Henry, on the other hand, wasn't so sure. He didn't hate kids, he just wasn't sure of himself. His parents weren't the best examples, until Chad came along Henry was practically a robot modeled by his parents. But then he fell for that stupid theatre kid, who greeted him the first time he walked into the auditorium. Now here they are, years later, married. Not married. No the past 24 years of blissful marriage were a lie, and he knew that this shouldn't have changed anything. But it sat itching the back of his mind, you're not married, he is not the father. He was still the same man, and yet here Henry stood doubtful. It wasn't fair to Ted, and it wasn't fair to Chad.

“Ready to go dearest?” Chad asked sweetly, extending his hand. Henry took it without hesitation letting him lead him to the door. Chad looked back at the frozen Ted. “Kiddo?” Ted shuffled for something in his bag but grumbled.

“Forgot something in dad’s office” He informed “Be right back” He rushed out of the room scrambling down the hall. Chad chuckled turning back to Henry. He studied his face, his blank expression, the way his eyes sat firmly in one spot.

“Whatcha thinking about love?” Chad inquires, cupping his face gently. Henry averts his gaze, shuffling his feet. “Henry? Henry, I know you, what's wrong?” His voice was firm. He shook his head, feeling able to move once more.

“Nothing, everything is fine” Henry assured, both men knew he was lying but before Chad could try again, Ted returned. Both professors turned to him expectantly, his face was unreadable holding a piece of paper. “Ted?”

“I wasn't trying to snoop…” He mumbled, his eyes were glazed over, he couldn't pin down what he was feeling. “I thought it was on your desk… but I… found this?” He holds up the paper, Chad bites his lips. Henry squeezes his hand, the adoption papers trembled in Ted's hand. Chad stepped forward. “I'm not really sure I understand it...Its... it's confusing…” He admits, his voice hitches. Chad moves forward again, Henry follows.

“Ted...come sit” Chad offers, moving himself to the couch. Ted stares, but nods. Henry follows, Ted sits in the middle of the pair, a tight grasp on the papers. Chad takes a deep breath, he opens the papers still in Ted's hand. “Let's go over this slowly ok?” Ted swallows nodding.

“Ugh! I don't get it!” Ted exclaims, Chad peeks his head out through the kitchen. He takes off his over mitts sitting next to his son on the table. He takes a peek at what Teds working on, Ted moves the paper towards him. “I just don't understand math ok?” He sighs rubbing his head.

“Let me see” Chad requests, he takes the papers studying them diligently. He nods, taking another pencil. Henry watches from the counter. “Let's go slowly ok? Don't think of doing it all at once, break down the problem” He demonstrates with one of the problems, Ted tries next. Henry smiles as Chad works carefully with Ted, calming him down, reassuring him. Even when he got frustrated.

“Which would mean that x equals 6.4 and y equals 5.8!” Ted finishes, he turns brightly to Chad “Right?” Chad laughs smiling.

“Exactly, good job Ted” He congratulates, he sits a little longer just in case.

“So… so there… there was a p-problem...with me?” Ted manages, Chad shook his head softly. He pointed to something on the paper.

“Never Ted, look” He shows him another paper “Henry and I…” He looks over at his...at Henry biting his lip. “Henry and I... aren't technically married” He explains, feeling that pull again

“H-how is that possible?” Ted asked turning to Henry, who raises his eyebrows. He didn't know how to explain it, not calmly. “You showed me photos! You were both there!” He claims, Chad nods.

“Yes but apparently… we never got a real marriage certificate. It's very confusing but when we went to get our marriage certificate we were told we were married but it wasn't true” Chad rambled, Henry hated the part that came next. “Our marriage license was real, but we looked into it and the clerk who was meant to ‘sign off’ on our marriage” He sighed “Forged it, he um… he didn't agree with our way of living” Oh.

“Oh…” Ted muttered, his mind began racing. “How was that even allowed? How did you go through 24 years without there ever being a problem?” Ted rushed, Chad took his shoulders.

“There were problems but we could never figure out what it was and it went away eventually,” Henry explained, he felt the need to participate. “But this won't go away” He gestured to the paper. Ted turned to him, he had one simple question.

“So what are you going to do?” Henry and Chad shared a knowing glance. Married or not, they still had these moments, those moments where you know exactly what the other is thinking.

“We’re going to get married,” they said in unison, both sharing a smile.

~~~

“Paul, please! Just listen!” Marley begged Paul scoffed one foot already at the door.

“No! I don't wanna see him, I don't wanna talk to him! You and Alice do whatever the fuck you want but I have school” He huffed pulling away from his mother. He stormed out, Marley frantically following him. She grabbed his arm carefully, turning him towards her.

“First of all language!” She scolded, he sighed tapping his foot impatiently “I know you don't want to, and you don't have to! I just wanted to make sure, I would never ask you to do it Paul” She insisted, he softened in her grasp. “Good luck with finals, ok? I'll pick you and Alice up and we can go out for dinner, alright?” He nodded, the idea bringing a small inkling of joy.

“Love you mom” He told her, she released him smiling sadly. He slid into his car, throwing his things in the back. He pulls out his phone. He wonders what the group chat name is this week. Ted enjoys changing it every week.

Stressed, Depressed and A Mess

Paul: Mood on the name Teddy boi

Bill: Was there something you needed Paul?

Paul: Just wanted to know if any of yall needed me to pick you up

Ted: Busy, can't talk

Bill: I could use a ride if that's alright

Paul: Yeppers be there soon

He goes to close his phone but received another message. A message from an unknown name pops up.

The Fuckiest of Fuckers

Oh… never mind

Em: Hey babe, I know this is super last minute but could I get a ride?

Paul: Always and forever

Em: I need a ride, I need a ride, I need a ride

Em: Haha that was so funny

Paul: Pick you up soon

He chuckled finally stuffing his phone away, pulling out of the driveway. He picked up Emma first, receiving a kiss on the cheek. She sat in the passenger's seat choosing the music, and Paul thanked god he wasn't picking up Ted. There would be a war. Bill was next, seeing as he lived the farthest away, and he sleepily joined them sitting in the back seat.

“Everyone gucci?” Paul asked as he pulled away from Bill's house. Emma turned the music down a bit, Bill buckled himself in.

“Mmhm,” he hummed, “No Ted?” He inquired, Paul looked at him through the mirror shaking his head. “Hmm, everyone ready for finals?” Emma laughed dryly.

“Never” She answered, Paul, nodded in agreement. Bill chuckled softly pulling out a book from his bag. The rest of the ride was relaxing, Emma played soft music, Bill read in the back, Paul drove. They stopped for coffee picking up more orders than expected, in fairness it was Emma's fault. She asked the group chat if they wanted anything, and Charlotte, Jackie, and Ted were all eager to get some caffeine. They arrived at school soon after, setting up outside the lockers. Jackie and Charlotte joined them. They sat in their usual circle of lawn chairs, two empty for Ted and Tommy.

“Your coffee m’ lady” Paul served, handing Charlotte her drink. “And one bitch juice for Jackie” He joked handing Jackie her own drink. She took a giant sip staring him dead in the eye.

“Hey Paul, did you make this?” She asked “It does taste a little bitchy, with a hint of fucker”

“Language!” Charlotte and Bill finally yelled. Jackie and Paul shrunk in their seats, their faces heating up. Ted arrived shortly after, grumbling as he sat in his chair. “You alright?” Bill questioned, Ted, buried his face his arms. Paul and Bill shared a look, simply patting him on the back.

“I hate literally everything” His voice muffled, Paul nodded. “I just wanna go home and sleep” The group snapped in agreement. Charlotte glanced at the empty chair, her heart sinking.

“No Tommy again?” She inquired, Ted looked up, the dark under bags of his eyes becoming prominent. He shook his head no. “Oh… sorry”

“Way to make it awkward bubbles” Jackie whispered, Charlotte swat her pouting. She chuckled, kissing her girlfriend on the cheek “I'm only kidding” Ted wasn't going to lie, it hurt just a bit. Guess now he knew how Bill felt. Emma and Paul teasing each other sharing their own private secrets. Jackie and Charlotte giggling, smothering each other with kisses. He missed Tommy, he hadn't seen or talked to him in almost 2 weeks. He was at school, he knew that much but every time he tried…

“Oh my god I'm going to kill Alice” Paul muttered, Emma, peaked over raising an eyebrow “She keeps insisting I see my dad-” His eyes widen, Ted and Bill turn both on high alert.

“Your dads back?!” Ted screeches, “Are you ok? Do you need help? You can stay at my house” Ted offers frantically, Bill nods. Charlotte and Emma eyed the three of them. Paul hates to admit he suddenly feels a weight lifted.

“I’m fine, guys, really” He assures, Ted sighs leaning back. “I'm not seeing him, but Alice insists I give him another chance” He gestures, throwing his hands up. Emma takes it squeezing it gently. He gives her a grateful smile. “I didn't want to tell anyone, because of finals…”

“I’m sorry dude,” Ted says, Paul gives him a smile. He curses himself, what a shitty excuse he was. Ted doesn’t tell him something and Paul freaks out, but the other way around? Ted’s a fucking angel. “But seriously, you can stay over at my house until he’s gone”

“Thanks, if Alice convinces mom to that family dinner, I might take you up on that offer” He joked, Ted smirks. Bill glares, not at Paul but for Paul. “Hey, buddy... you good?”

“Moriarty, not Sherlock” Is all Bill mutters, and to everyone else it means nothing. But Paul and Ted share a knowing look.

~~~

“Raise your hand if you one-hundred percent just failed your final” Ted announces plopping his lunch down at the table. Everyone except for Bill raises their hand. Ted nods, affirming his doubts. Everyone has their lunches out, and some kind of study guide. Ted follows suit, taking out his own math guide. “Look, it's just two more days of tests and then two free days and then summer!” He tries, lazy ‘woos’ are echoed. They worked silently, occasionally looking up to talk with one another or eat.

“Ted, can I talk to you?” A voice asked from behind. He glances up, his eyes turned fiery. Billy stands holding his lunch in his hands, staring expectantly. Paul and Bill stand, glaring. Emma cracks her knuckles (she wouldn't actually punch him, but man she wishes she could).

“What do you want?” Ted spits, he literally spits. Nothing comes of it but there was an effort. Billy eyes the group but sighs.

“I just want to talk, ok?” He raises a white flag with his face, Ted nods.

“Fine-”

“Ted” Bill and Paul warn in unison, he holds up his hands nodding. They sit down doubtful but watch him follow Billy out of the cafeteria. Billy leads him to a secluded corner, Ted becomes warier as they continue.

“Ok, what do you want?” He asked, his voice his firm and annoyed. He might have given Billy the chance to speak to him, but not a lot of time.

“I wanted to apologize,” Billy informs, Ted folds his arms waiting “I am sorry” And so he goes on to list and apologize sincerely to Ted. It's a good one too, one Ted surprisingly appreciates. Once he’s finished, Ted assumes it's over but Billy stops him from leaving. “How did you know?” His voice is softer now, almost chilling.

“Know what?” Ted wonders as Billy shuffled his feet, kicking the ground. He fails to meet Ted's eyes.

“How did you...know you were…” He can't finish, as if the word is too revolting. Ted's face falls annoyed, as his arms rejoin his side.

“Bisexual” He scoffs, Billy swallows nodding. “I mean, I suspected for a while and told my friends and family but I wasn't sure until…” Ted trails off, his mind picturing exactly when he knew. Under the willow tree, sitting with Tommy. He cupped his face, locking their lips together. A sad flutter was felt, a soft moan escaped Ted's mouth. “I wasn't sure until I kissed Tommy” Ted confirmed, Billy finally met his eyes. He had never seen the teen look so small. He expected a response, or some kind of joke. He didn't expect to suddenly be pulled into a kiss, his lips meeting Billys. It was rough, hard, almost painful. It wasn't Tommy. Once he registered what was happening, he pulled away immediately. He stared baffled at a very regretful Billy, he shook his head leaving instantly. He didn't know where he was going, but he had to go.

~~~

“He kissed you?” Paul questioned as the group walked home. The trio of boys were planning a study session and had decided to do it at Paul's house.

“He kissed me” Ted recollected, nodding his head.

“Are you going to tell Tommy?” Paul pressed, the three of them were just staring ahead.

“Yes...maybe… I don't know” Ted sighed, He stuffed his hands in his pocket “Not like he’d care” He mumbled “I feel like lately, he's just looking for an excuse… and this could be what he needs to end it...”

“Does that mean he’s gay?” Paul inquired, he had a whole list of questions formulating in his mind.

“Doesn’t justify his actions” Bill chimed, Ted turned to him.

“No one said it did, and I don't know” Ted shrugged, he didn't know a lot about this situation. Paul nodded processing, he went to ask another question but Bill wasn't done.

“That’s sexual harassment” He claimed

“Bill-”

“It is Ted, it was forced upon you” He argued, Paul actually agreed. Ted wanted to protest. “Look, whether or not he’s gay or whatever doesn’t excuse the fact that-” He stopped, holding up a finger “He bullied you and Tommy, and-” he held up two fingers now “Forced a kiss on you, when you clearly didn’t want it” Bill explained, Ted hated the fact that he was right. They kept walking passing by Tommy's house, Ted stopped.

“Ok, I'll be right back, I'm going to go talk to him” Ted declared, Bill and Paul nodded assuring him they would go to Emma's house quickly before returning. He waved them goodbye, knocking on the door. It opened after a moment.

“Ted? What are you doing here?” Tommy asks bluntly, Ted realized how long it had been since he’d seen Tommys face upfront. Able to stare and admire his features, the twinkle in eyes, the way he’s brows furrowed adorably.

“I wanted to see you…” He admitted, his eyes gazing towards his lips. Tommy sighed before ushering him in. They stood face to face now in the living room. “How...how are you?” Ted tries

“I’m busy Ted so…” Tommy said, Ted bit back his lip.

“You're always busy, you know, I haven't seen you in two weeks” Ted blurts, Tommy looks taken aback. He wrings his fingers. “I think I might have actually forgotten your face”

“Ted don't be ridiculous” He chided, his voice was annoyed. “I’m sorry that I have finals” His voice wasn't sorry, it felt rehearsed.

“We all do! Doesn't mean we isolate our boyfriends!” He shouted Tommy scoffed rolling his eyes. They went back and forth, the argument heating up. Ted only noticed Tommy's tear after the blur from his own tears cleared.

“I'm busy ok?! Not everyone has parents who don't care about their grades”, “I get it, you're busy! You have to study! Doesn't mean you ignore me!” “I'm sorry I can't be your perfect ray of sunshine 24/7 Ted!” “You're not even making an effort!” “I'm trying ok?” “Trying is ignoring me?” “Trying is focusing on school! I don't revolve around you Ted”

“Billy kissed me!” Tommy's face fell, he stumbled back.

“What?” He barely whispered, he shook. “A-are you ok?” He came forward, he still kept his distance but his face changed. It wasn't anger or frustration, it was concern. Now Ted's heart hurt.

“I’m fine, not that you would care” He cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Because the soft sobbing, as Tommy clasped his mouth, said otherwise.

“Of..of course I care” he cried, “You think I don't care?” His voice raised in volume now. “If I get anything less than a perfect ‘A’, my parents would kill me, so maybe you should just go” His face was blank now, Ted couldn't read it. He shook his head making his way for the door, as he opened his heart broke just a little bit “I care so much” Tommy whispered as Ted shut the door.

~~~

“Don't want to talk about it?”

“Nope, let's just get to studying,” Ted said as they stood outside of Paul's house. Bill shot him a reassuring look as Paul unlocked his door, fumbling with his keys.

“Ugh, I really hate-” He paused as he opened the door, his face fell. Sitting in the kitchen was Alice, Marley and… Joe. Ted instinctively put a protective hand on Paul's shoulder, Bill was on alert.

“Paul I am so-” His mother tried but Paul simply shook his head. He couldn't speak, he never could around Joe. He could feel his heartbeat pumping in his chest, the blood filling his ears. He wasn't there anymore, he was little being yelled at, huddling close to his mother. Not his mother now, Paul had buried himself in Ted, who wrapped his arms around him.

“Why is he here Ms.Matthews?” Bill asked politely, Ted did his best to comfort Paul.

“It was my idea Paul” Alice came forward, she looked sadly at her brother “You would never see him on your own…”

“So you ambushed him?!” Ted accused, he cursed himself lowering his voice feeling Paul flinch in his arms, he whispered an apology.

“I-i didn't mean it like that” Alice persisted, she looked to Paul “Paul come on… look at me” But he didn't, Ted tightened reminiscing himself on the scene. When the two of them were little, clutching onto each other for an ounce of safety. Paul mumbled something into Ted, but he understood.

“We are leaving” He decided firm, “Ms.Matthews, Paul will be at my house” Ted explained. Though sad, she nodded gratefully. Bill left last making sure they weren't being followed before taking Paul's car and driving to Ted's house. Ted hadn't driven in a while and drove slowly, much to his own annoyance. Bill sat in the back cradling the frightened teen, something had washed over him. Something made him crawl back to the little boy he once was, the little boy he worked so hard to leave behind.

~~~

New Chat

Em: is he going to be ok?

Ted: Yeah, he's staying over at my house for now

Em: Can I see him?

Ted: Probs not tonight sorry, he's not really up to seeing anyone

Em: Understandable

Em: Tell him I love him

Ted couldn't help but smile. He nodded to himself showing the text to a sleepy Paul. Paul gave him the tiniest smile, burying himself a little further into the bed. Ted, Paul, and Bill sat on Ted's bed. Paul was in the middle leaning on Ted, Bill and Ted were on either side.

Ted: He knows, and he loves you too :)

Em: Fucking dork

Ted: Correction, fucking useless

Ted: Gotta go, see you tomorrow

Em: Farewell

“Can't sleep, watch?” Paul mumbled Ted chuckled nodding. He stood moving to the small tv on his wall, grabbing the remote. He passed it to Bill, who switched to Netflix. “Mmm ‘Big Mouth’?” Paul suggested Bill and Ted shrug nodding. Once the show is found, they huddle close watching tv for the rest of the night.

~~~

“Izzie! How many times have I told you not to touch Token?” Jackie scolded seeing the mess scattered on her floor. Dirt was spilled everywhere, glass shattered. Izzie stood on the other side of the room cradling Token pouting, on the verge of tears. “You have to clean this up!”

“I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!” Izzie cried Token slithered around her shoulders trying to comfort the little one. “You never let me play with Maggie or Token!” She defended, Jackie softened. Walking carefully around the mess she walked over to her sister, carrying her to the bed. She sat comfortably on the bed, Token nestled in Izzies arms.

“Look, I’m sorry…” Jackie comforts “But you need to be more careful ok?” Izzie nods, she hands Token to Jackie who takes the corn snake happily. Izzie hops off the bed.

“I'll go get the cleaning supplies!” She exclaims, rushing out of the room. Jackie chuckles setting Token down on her bed.

“You'll be back in your home soon” She comforts the slithery snake. She pets him sweetly pulling away when her phone buzzes.

Bubbles

Bubbles: Jackie, Jackie, J!

J: Char, what's wrong?

Bubbles: Ok, so I was just sitting at my desk doing homework and then my phone rings and it's an unknown number so I pick it up cautiously and its Sam! And he wants to talk to me tomorrow and alone and I'm scared

J: Ok bubs, I need you to take a deep breath. I won't let him do anything, ok? You won't go alone no matter what. And we can just talk to the principal in the morning if you really feel scared.

Bubbles: Thank you

Izzie rushes back, holding a bucket and a bunch of supplies. Jackie gives her a big thumbs up before turning back to her phone.

J: I gotta go, but I love you

Bubbles: Love you too

Neither of them registered what they had just confessed until the next morning.

#sycamore high #tgwdlmhs #musical theatre #theatre #musical #starkid #tgwdlm #the guy who didnt like musicals #joey richter #lauren lopez #jon matteson #robert manion #jaime lyn beatty #corey dorris #mariah rose faith #ao3 #archive of our own #writing #my writing

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princess-of-france · 6 years ago

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Hal & Cate

@nuingiliath is a wonderful human who very graciously agreed to let me apply her questions for the Headcanons Ask to my favorite Shakespeare pairing, after we got just a truckload of historical wires crossed. ;) Thanks, friend!

~HAL / HENRY V~

28. Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

After going toe-to-toe with his father for a painfully antagonistic decade, killing the man who had once been counted amongst Henry IV’s most loyal warriors on the battlefield, rejecting and exiling his pseudo-father, forsaking all his compatriots in Eastcheap, and assuming the throne of England with a preternatural awareness of the fragility of kingship, Hal finds it a bit hard to trust people. At the very beginning of H5/2H5, I think he would probably name Henry Scroop as his closest friend…but of course that instinct then gets bulldozed by Scroop’s “inhuman” betrayal at Southampton.

Thank God Hal has his stalwart, unflappable Uncle Exeter, is all I’m saying.

His worst enemy, however, is a much simpler question to answer. He really, really wants his worst enemy to be the Dauphin, or King Charles, or the French army, or even an English backstabber. But it is never any of those people. It is always and forever himself.

31. Most prized possession?

His mother’s Bible, which she bequeathed to him on her deathbed.

49. If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

If Hal’s fighting with his fists, it means he’s either lost his sword on the battlefield or is extremely drunk. The king of England doesn’t engage in fisticuffs, for like a million obvious reasons. And if he’s drunk, then he’s probably fighting like a lion who got trapped in a windowless room filled with general anesthesia.

~CATHERINE~

1. What does their bedroom look like?

It’s deceptively understated — even though Catherine is the princess of France, she is also the youngest in a long line of Valois daughters, none of whom hold a candle to the importance of their royal brothers. The simplicity of her lodgings suits Cate to perfection. She likes her chamber decorations, plush and purple and elegant, glinting with threaded accents of silver and gold. She likes her beautiful assortment of gowns and dresses, all tailored to her precise measurements. She likes her windows, with their cloudy, warpy glass. But mostly, she likes the fact that her rooms always smell like Alice: all fresh milk and baked bread and wry skepticism.

(On several occasions, Queen Isabel has tried to convince Catherine to move out of her closet and into Isabelle’s old chambers, as a symbol of Catherine’s inherited status as the Most Eligible Maiden in France, but Cate always refuses point-blank. Nothing, she thinks, would be harder than trying to live her life in the rooms from which her golden sister was exiled, then returned to in grief, only to be exiled again into a marriage Izzy didn’t want and couldn’t escape.

(Cate tries hard not think about the fact that someday she’ll have to leave home for the same type of forced alliance. Please God let him not be English swine.)

30. Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (e.g. a close family member suddenly dies)?

Catherine has grown up in the shadow of death, even though she’s never personally experienced the kind of heavy, daily grief that drapes along her mother’s shoulders like an iron cape. Being only six years old when her tall, scowling uncle was murdered and eight years old when her beautiful, sunken-eyed sister surrendered to childbed fever, Catherine remembers the anguish of her family far more clearly than she remembers her own sensations of sadness. Death frightens her not because of what it is, but because of what she has seen it do to the people she loves.

Her precious cousin Charles — the only boy in her family who ever bothered to try to make her smile — faded into a skeletal, white-lipped ghost after Isabelle passed. Her fearless mother still trembles like a leaf in autumn whenever her father, King Charles, stumbles back into the poisoned abyss of his own mind. Her cousin Bonne flinches every time she hears the clink of a wine glass against a wooden table. Even her brother, Louis, who makes no secret of his disdain for her, cried hot tears into Cate’s shoulder when their father threw his favorite horse figurine against the wall, shattering it into a thousand un-fixable pieces.

From an early age, Catherine promised herself she would do everything in her power to prevent tragedy from ravaging her family again, to say nothing of her beloved homeland. Disguising herself as a male ambassador and venturing into enemy territory is a small price to pay for circumventing a war that could break her family like Louis’ porcelain horse doll.

45. Superstitions or views on the occult?

Catherine believes in God, but she thinks He must be too busy to pay much attention to France. How else do you explain the civil war? Or Charles’ madness? Or England’s aggression? Becoming Montjoie is a matter of necessity — if the Almighty won’t defend France, Cate thinks, then people with free will are going to have to do it. Even if those people are female and royal and unprepared. Even if the enemy is disturbingly difficult to hate.

@skeleton-richard

#thank you so much for the asks!#friends!#henry v #gentle herald project #catherine of valois #otp: take a soldier #these two will be the death of me

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rattycattyfanfic · 6 years ago

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stroke by stroke

Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: Regina/Emma, Alice/Robyn, Regina & Henry, Regina & Zelena Genre: Family/Fluff Rated: T Words: 2,255

Once upon a time, Regina paints.

5 times Regina struggles with her secret penchant for creativity + 1 time she finds her muse.

Read on AO3

this grew out of the plot in the regina rising book, where regina takes art classes for a bit. if you haven't read it, it's not crucial for this, just the inspiration. purely wrote this because art school has been kicking my butt recently and i must live everything through the cathartic distance of fictional characters. enjoy!

warnings: suggestions of childhood abuse, swearing, bit of brief alcohol use.

Once upon a time, Regina paints.

She’s not good, not by a long shot, but she loves it all the same. Loves to paint the horses, the tall, breathing trees and the horizon with its promise of freedom always just out of reach. The thick oils feel luxurious in an unfamiliar way, a far cry from the extravagance of corsets and jewels and feasts. They feel sumptuous, soulful, vibrant as she lays down rich colour, and she delights in it, escapes into the stables through her mind every time she picks up the paintbrush.

Her tutor, Jasper, is handsome and smiles when she masters a new technique or finishes a work, and Regina blushes all the way down to her toes. And therein lies the problem; because mother rarely allows her daughter the distraction of hobbies, let alone friends or boys not specifically approved by her, and she’s eagle-eyed looking for any excuse to put a stop to this. The excuse comes in the form of Jasper hovering at her shoulder, guiding her hand gently and his breath in her ear, and that’s that.

Jasper is ordered to leave, banned from the estate, and mother gets her digs in about Regina's poor painting skill, and the pressure to find an eligible prince to wed heats up. She no longer has time for frivolities between other lessons and dances and tea with suitors, so she gives it up.

When Henry is little, he’s a prolific little artist. He scribbles and scribbles as she works at her desk, and they’re the most beautiful thing Regina’s ever seen. She laughs and kisses his cheek as he proudly holds up his latest masterpiece, and gently takes it from him and puts it up on the fridge with the other favourites, cooing praise all the while.

She remembers, sometimes, well, we can’t all be good at everything, Regina, and feels her stomach twist in humiliation even years later, and promises herself this is another way she will never allow herself to be like her mother.

Seemingly chaotic spirals of waxy colour become slightly messy colouring book pages – delightfully disordered as Henry colours inside the lines as best he can but takes creative liberties: blue Spiderman, green sky, pink dog, all boldly unapologetic like happy children are. “Mommy, help,” he pipes up one day during one of their Saturday Granny's breakfasts, and spreads out his crayons across the table and Regina freezes for a half-second before picking up the red.

She puts the new art up on the fridge with alphabet magnets and puts the old ones carefully into a box. Later, she’s grateful she had the foresight to save everything, because during that awful year she returns to it on the worst nights. After he finds out about the adoption in the worst way possible and gets stuck on fairy tales, Henry demands she takes everything off the fridge in a fit of anger and pre-teen embarrassment, and so those go in the box too. Between snarling fights with his birth mother and shaking panic, Regina spends all too much time gazing over those pages of childish shapes until her vision is swimming and all she can see is a garish blur.

•

They never pick up their comfortable colouring sessions after everything gets better again. Henry gets too old, too preoccupied with being a hero or the author or college or adventures, and Regina mourns it.

She fills her house with expensive paintings, artisanal prints of mythology, illustrations of plants in an attempt to fill the hole, make it warmer on those nights he’s gone. Her favourite is a huge horse painting that hangs above her fireplace and Regina imagines maybe she would have painted something similar if she’d been allowed the time, the encouragement to learn.

And once, in the Underworld after trying and failing to sleep curled up on one of the couches, she tries. The injured horse from earlier had stuck in her mind, had looked so much like her Rocinante but wasn’t, and the loft is dim, silent but for soft snores of Snow and Charming close by. Beyond a few minutes in the bathroom here and there it’s the closest to privacy Regina has had since they got here.

Enough for her to pick up a scrap of paper and pencil and hunch over the coffee table to draw. Regina tries to remember the arc of her steed’s neck, the angles of his muzzle, the soft fuzz at his chin, and sketches until her hand aches and her eyes grow tired.

It’s bad, but it’s not awful. She feels calmer, in the dark where no one can see her failure, mother long gone. She stares at the dark shapes meant to be his eyes, the glint and it’s off but she feels sixteen again, bringing the outside inside with her. And she feels tired, at last. Slowly, Regina lays back down under the soft blanket and allows herself this small ounce of serenity.

•

In Seattle, she is Roni and owns a bar and dresses in leather and old denim. She has pain – a failed adoption, an uncaring mother, an absent father, streetwise beyond her years and more loneliness than she knows what to do with, oh yes, she has pain. But the curse has taken away specific old agonies of forced marriage and murdered lovers and a mother who abuses and shames, and she might be relieved if only she knew that she’d forgotten anything.

Roni doesn’t remember never being enough in any way at all, being groomed for marriage and marriage only, denied the simple pleasures of hobbies or friends, and she’s something of a fixer-upper – handy enough to maintain the pub, physical and creative in a way Mayor Mills hadn’t ever been. Not to mention financially fucked. She can’t spare the cash for Regina’s extensive designer wardrobe even if she could stomach the idea of fast fashion.

So she does the next best thing – cuts up her tees, alters the fit with simple stitching, and one day when she has a spare few hours after a relatively slow shift, she picks up a set of cheap paints and goes to town on a jacket sitting in the back of her closet. After hours hunched over the jacket, a couple of cold beers, and a few loud spins of the Ramones, her mind is clear and her body pleasantly tired. The paint dries, and she marvels at her newly personalised jacket, adorned with tasteful flowers, unique to her, and for once, there’s no insecurity.

•

When Roni remembers and becomes Regina again, she admires the jacket hanging on the back of her door, trails her fingertips over the paint before finally slipping it on. Her cursed self had surprisingly done quite a good job and it’s hers and she won’t waste a perfectly comfortable jacket. (Zelena comments, one day, nudges her gently when she gets a closer look and sees the slight imperfections of a hand-paint job. “Never knew you had an artistic side, ‘Gina,” and Regina rolls her eyes and snaps a towel playfully after her, says “I don’t,” but has to hide her flushed cheeks.)

Robyn arrives in Seattle, tall and grown now, if a little rougher around the edges – her fault and in hindsight maybe the ticket to Amsterdam she hadn’t even run past Zelena had been a bad idea, much like the spellbook she’d passed on because we all experimented, Zelena. Robyn is brave and kind and funny, though, had never succumbed to the darkness or to vices like they both had even given the chance. She’s doing well, besides being, y’know, cursed, and some evenings, that bright-eyed, wild-haired girl Tilly – Alice – comes to visit and they exchange soft touches and warm smiles. (It reminds Regina painfully of a different blonde lost to her, and she turns her face down and pours out a shot.)

While Robyn dries glasses or wipes down the counter, Alice splits her time gazing at her girlfriend and hunching over a notebook, writing and doodling. Regina had seen over her shoulder once by accident, the pages and pages of loopy handwriting and beautiful drawings of stormy seas and far-off dream-realms (real, if only Alice would make the connection she’s so close to). And when Robyn gets off shift, they sit side by side and Alice explains each drawing with glinting eyes. “What about you? What do you dream about?” Alice asks, and so Robyn picks up a pencil and tentatively tries to illustrate a dreamt childhood filled with magic and mythical beasts.

(The curse breaks and for a short time, they all sit in Roni’s bar aware of what they mean to one another. Robyn smiles softly and says, “I remember when you and mom would colour with me, Aunt Regina,” and slides two pages across the bar counter towards the two witches. Regina’s mouth closes around a silent protest and she smiles too, exchanges a soft look with her sister, and grabs a purple pencil.)

•

The realms are united, and everyone is back together. Everything is good.

Regina sucks in a breath as she stands in one of the castle towers, looking over the kingdom. She still has her mansion, but occasionally, she likes to come up here and allow the treetops and winding rivers to clear her mind.

She sits down on a wooden stool near the window, brought up here especially for today. Actually, all of this had been acquired very discretely, just for her today. She could have summoned it, but she’s really trying to not use magic lazily these days and the ritual of gathering everything had been strangely soothing.

In front of her is a wooden easel and a small table laden with paints – oils, like she’d used as a girl, and fluffy brushes and spirit for rinsing. The blank canvas is terribly intimidating, but Regina keeps her breathing steady and reminds herself no one has to see if it turns out bad, this is just for her. To see if she can still, if it’s still as fun as she remembers. She picks up a brush and dips the tip in the pale blue and begins to work.

The time passes easily, and as the hours slip by the sky begins to turn pink, the sun warm and red and all the colours changing too fast to keep working. That’s about the time that the door creaks, and in comes Emma, a small quirk of a smile on her lips and blonde hair tumbling down her back. “How’s it going?” she murmurs, and Regina nods.

“I missed this,” she admits and surveys her work with her bottom lip between her teeth.

The blonde grins, and steps forward, her head tilted – “Can I see?”

Emma is tentative, always careful and considerate in these quiet moments despite her naturally chaotic state, and so Regina nods again, and breathes steadily. Arms wrap around her waist and a cheek rests on her shoulder as the blonde gazes at the painting, and for a long moment Regina is half-expecting disappointment or a stilted falsity.

Emma just makes this dragged out ohh sound though and tightens her embrace. “That’s really good, Regina, you never said you were good,” and Regina flushes deeply and shushes her, would maybe chuck something small and light at her if she wasn’t enjoying this hug so much.

“It’s just – practice,” Regina excuses, and lightly pushes away to spin and take Emma into her own arms, their eyes meeting. “But thank you.” She cups Emma’s jaw and brings her down to kiss her lightly, sweetly, awing all the while at how they finally got here. Her other hand trails down Emma’s cheek, and the woman feels slight wetness and whines, “Reg-ina.”

Regina smirks as Emma rubs at the smudge of wet emerald green on her cheek, only spreading it even more. “I’m so gonna get you for that,” the sheriff says with a childish grin and flicks a brush still covered in purple paint at her lover.

The paint splatters over Regina’s browbone and she gasps and then laughs, “Emma,” as she grabs ineffectually for the brush that Emma holds high above her head. Emma jumps back, bright laughter ringing against the stone walls, and her eyes are bright. Regina’s chest feels light looking at her, lunging for the brush again until she gives up and picks up a brush of her own. Emerald eyes widen and Emma murmurs a warning, backing up and still grinning until she hits the stone wall.

Regina closes in on her, presses against her, and then her sly smirk drops. Her hand closes around Emma’s wrist, pinning it as she leans in and brings their lips together tenderly. The kiss heats up, Emma moaning into her open mouth and flicking her tongue teasingly against red lips, and the brushes drop to the floor with a clatter.

And maybe they’ll regret this little paint fight when it comes time to clean up, but Regina thinks, this is what creativity, art is supposed to be like – serene solace, laughing with her lover over spilt paint, colouring with her son, drawing dreams with her family. They part, their breath huffing warm and unsteady, and she is contemplative, meeting Emma’s eyes and trailing her thumb over the woman’s plump lower lip. She’s beautiful, glowing in the soft sunset. Regina feels good and breathes into the space between them, “I think I know what I want to paint next.”

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enixamyram · 7 years ago

Note

Prompt: Robin enlists her mom and aunts help and finds a cure for Alice and Hook just in time for Alice and Robin's wedding (bonus points for Hook walking Alice down the isle or a daddy daughter-dance).

The Perfect Wedding Present

Summary: Onthe day of their wedding, Robin presents Alice with the best gift she couldever receive. A reunion with her father.

The Enchanted Forest was almost quiet of itsusual natural sounds that morning. Like the world knew what day it was andwanted to make it as perfect as everyone else did.

In a secluded area of the forest, where there was a large opening inamongst the trees, set-up was already heavily underway. Multi-coloured chairswere being arranged in a circle around a podium that held a blue and greennetted archway with four different carpets stretched out in between the seatsin a cross-like shape; one blue, one red, one green and one yellow. Typicaltradition dictated there should mostly be whites and light chalk shaded coloursfor a wedding but a certain bride had instead demanded darker neon colours fromthe rainbow for almost everything. In fact, the only white was on the bridesthemselves and that was insisted upon by some family members, just so the girlswould firmly stand out as much as possible.

While everyone else was setting up the main area – including preparing astretch of grass off to the side where the band would be playing for the wholeevening – there were two smaller areas that had been set up the day before,located in amongst the trees in opposite directions of each other. Inside the areaswere matching tents and inside them two families were helping two beautifulyoung women get ready. It was still early but there was so much for them to dothat they had all woken at the crack of dawn in order to get started.

In one light creamy brown coloured tent, a young woman sat shivering ina warm but shallow bath, her teeth chattering more from excited nerves than themorning air that found all the parts of her bare skin not hidden under thewater. Behind her, Ella Mills was helping to wash the last pieces of sweat andgrease from her hair while her daughter, Lucy, ran back and forth deliveringmessages and items between the origanisers which included more makeup than thebride had ever worn before in her life.

In the opposite tent made of a similar but slightly darker brownmaterial, a young woman stood in front of a full length mirror, staring at herreflection in silence. This young woman had been awake for many more hours thanher fiance and she had already gone through the process of getting washed andhaving something to eat in hopes of settling her knotted stomach. She reallyshould be getting dressed and finishing the final touches of her make up andhair, but instead here she was, still was standing in front of the mirror.

The mirror itself had been an engagement gift from her aunt, part of atwin set, the other of which was sat in her love’s tent with her. It really wasa beautiful mirror, clean with a thick golden frame that surrounded its longedging, and while the woman looking back at her shared in the mirrors beauty,her mind was distracted with other, more ugly thoughts. In fact she lookedquite miserable for an attractive young woman on her wedding day.

For the moment, she was alone, and she preferred it that way. For nowshe could allow herself to be sad instead of forcing a smile like everythingwas okay, because it wasn’t okay. She had failed.

Robin Mills stood in front of the mirror in nothing but a straplesswhite bra and matching underwear, her skin tanned from days in the sun and herhair had finally stopped dripping but was still very damp as it hung behind herback. Slowly, she reached up, running a hand over her face and wondering if shehad the will power to drag her expression into one of joy when she would nextsee Alice again. Robin worried she might just start crying instead.

This wasn’t fair. This was meant to be the most perfect day. How was itsupposed to be perfect when it was like this?

The tent flap was pushed open and Robin’s aunt Regina stepped inside.Like everyone else, she wasn’t dressed just yet, instead wearing a long whiterobe that had been supplied to almost every member participating in the weddingby a tailor who had only been too happy to help cater them. She walked into theopen space and stopped short at the sight of her niece. Even when Robin quicklyput a bright smile on her face as she turned to look at her, her aunt saw rightthrough to the sadness underneath.

“Oh, Robin.” Regina walked over and hugged her, looking over hershoulder at the mirror. “It’s alright. We’ll find a cure one of these days.”

“I know I just… I wanted to find it today. For her.” Robin whispered,tears building and she quickly blinked them back and turned to look at herreflection again.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Regina sighed, wrapping her arms around Robintightly from behind. “But don’t let that ruin today for you. It’s about you andAlice anyway. She and her father will be reunited; they will have their day…Just not now.” She ran her fingers through Robin’s hair. “Come on. Let’s get yourhair done.”

Robin allowed her aunt to lead her to a stool by a dressing table andsat down quietly. She watched as Regina waved her hand over her head andsuddenly Robin’s hair was perfectly dry. She probably could have used magic toget her completely ready as well but – as Henry pointed out to her – part ofthe fun of a wedding was the getting ready beforehand. He reminded them that itwas a bonding moment between family and they shouldn’t skip it just becausemagic would be easier.

“Where’s mum?” Robin asked as Regina began brushing through her alreadyperfect hair for her. Only now did the younger woman realise her mother had yetto make an appearance this morning.

“I’m not sure. She said she wanted to look into something but don’tworry, she’ll be here to walk you down the aisle.” Regina grinned. “There’s noway she’s missing out on that!”

Robin smiled sadly up at her. That was important to her, of course. Butnot nearly as important as reuniting her true love with her father in time fortheir marriage.

O*U*A*T

Later in the day, as the time of the wedding drew closer, Robin stoodback in front of the mirror once again, this time in the wedding dress it hadtaken her months to find. She had driven everyone crazy, especially afterJacinda had told them that Alice had found her perfect dress in a matter ofweeks. Her mother had nearly lost her patients with her in the end, rightbefore Robin finally found it, sitting in a random little shop in the middle ofNew York City.

The perfect dress she had finally found was floor length, covering thestrappy silver and white heels she had carefully put before anything else. Theskirt was a thick white material with transparent glitter covered layer restingover the top, and the torso that had a tight round blue turtle neck-like collarshe had folded down slightly with no sleeves, leaving her arms and shoulderscompletely bare. Around her stomach and waist was a creased rose pattern thatencircled her with a single large diamond shape cut out on her chest, allowingthe tanned skin of the top of her breasts to show teasingly.

Her hair had been done in a five long plaits that had been then wrappedaround one another and pinned on the top back of her head with a series of leafshaped silver clips all connected with a single strip of silver wire. Her whiteveil had been clipped along the top of her bun and was currently thrown back tohang behind her, but she would be able to pull it down over her face once shewas ready to start her walk.

Robin had decided to go for the natural look, applying only a lightshade of brown eye shadow and an equally light touch of pink lip gloss. She wasnever a fan of makeup, even when she had to pretend to be back in her earlyschool days so it was a relief to finally be free of that kind ofresponsibility, even if her mother insisted she needed just a touch of it fortoday. As for jewellery, she wore a diamond necklace given to her by hermother, a pair of matching studs she had brought not long after, and a seriesof multicoloured bracelets that came in gold’s and greens on her left wristthat clashed with the rest of her outfit but which had been a present for Robinby her aunt Regina in honour of her father, who could not be here with hertoday.

Regina took a step back from her, smiling with teary eyes at the sightof her niece. Robin was always a beautiful young woman, but now, she lookedpositively radiant.

“Oh God,” Regina said, waving her hands and fanning her face, turningaway so Robin wouldn’t see her crying. “Where on Earth is your mother?” Shedemanded instead, trying to draw attention away from herself.

“I’m here!”

Zelena suddenly appeared through the flaps, rushing into the small areaand looking very red in the face, not even close to being ready to walk herdaughter to her wedding. Even Regina had at least taken the time to pull on herpurple dress while Robin had been doing up the straps on her shoes and such.Robin might have been annoyed by all of this if it wasn’t for the fact that shewas curious about the way her mother was grinning at her, a smile that stretchedfrom ear to ear with excitement.

“Mum…” Robin said, expecting her own mother to burst into tears at thesight of her in her dress like her aunt had but instead, Zelena barely seemedto notice.

“Where have you been?” Regina demanded, dabbing away the few tears thathad managed to escape.

“Finishing what I started.” Zelena explained with a slight smirk.

“What are you talking about?” Regina frowned.

Zelena ignored her and walked passed to stand in front of her daughter,pulling something out of her pocket and holding it up between them. “I did it.”

“You did… It?” Robin frowned, not understanding what she was talkingabout.

“Yes. It.” Zelena said, pushing the object into Robin’s hands.

It was a small glass vial that had a dark purple liquid sloshing aroundinside. The vial was no bigger than her palm with a brown cork in it to keepthe liquid from escaping and it seemed almost like it was radiating a tenseheat. For a moment Robin didn’t understand what it was, then realisation dawnedon her and she stroked the glass gently, the purple light reflecting on herlight blue painted fingernails.

“Is this…” Robin croaked.

“Yes.” Zelena beamed.

“No… That’s not possible.” Regina whispered, finally catching on andmoving to stand beside the other two women. “We searched for months… How didyou…?”

“To be honest, it was mostly a lucky break.” Zelena explained, grinningproudly. “Rumple and I were talking it over and he mentioned something that gotme thinking and well. It was a rush to put it together, so I didn’t have achance to come and get you-”

“Oh don’t worry about that!” Regina laughed, then hesitated. “But… Willit work?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Zelena said, reaching for the vial.

Robin took a sharp step back, so quick that she almost tripped up overher own dress, clutching the vial tightly between her hands and holding it toher chest. She looked up and there was a mixture of hope and fear in her eyesas she glanced from her mother to her aunt and back again. Her mouth was drybut she forced herself to swallow and shook her head at the puzzled and worriedexpressions on their faces.

“I… I want to do it.” Robin said firmly.

“Robin, I know you want to give it to her yourself, but we don’t evenknow for sure if it will work.” Regina said softly.

“And it’s your wedding day!” Zelena said quickly, finally seeming tonotice Robin’s dress. “You and Alice’s can’t see each other. It’ll be badluck!”

“There is no way I could ever look into Alice’s eyes and get bad luck fromit. She’s the luckiest thing to ever happen to me.” Robin said, looking down atthe vial. “And I need to be the one to give this to her.”

After a moment, Regina nodded and Zelena followed her. “We understand,”She said. Then stepped forward, “But at least cover your dress! Give Alicesomething to look forward to!”

“You mean besides marrying me?” Robin smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, besides that.” Zelena grinned, pretending to wave it off like itwas nothing.

Regina ran over to the side, grabbing a large green cloak and returningto throw it over Robin’s shoulders, fastening it around her tightly so as tohide her dress completely from view. Then, just to be sure, she reached up andunclipped the veil from her hair, setting it carefully aside before steppingback and nodding her head in approval.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can!” Robin said, starting for the tentopening.

“Hold on! You’re not going running through the woods!” Zelena saidquickly. “There’s a reason we laid out the carpet. The dirt will ruin thebottom of your dress.”

“I need to get to her, now!” Robin said impatiently.

“Would you relax! Are you forgetting who you’re related to?” Reginasmirked, then placed a hand on Zelena’s elbow. “I’ll take Robin. You go getdressed.”

“Oh right!” Zelena yelped, finally noticing her lack of a proper outfit.“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Greenbean.” She said, walking over and kissingRobin lightly on the cheek.

Just before she could run off, Robin grabbed her and pulled her into atight hug. “Thank you, mum.”

Zelena smiled, returning the hug just as tightly. “I just want to make todayperfect for you.” She pushed her away and cupped the side of her face. “For both of you.”

“And you have,” Robin whispered, feeling tears building but she blinkedthem back and nodded before letting her mother go. She paused to watch as sherun off to get ready before finally turning to stand beside her aunt. “Let’sgo!” She said excitedly.

O*U*A*T

In the tent on the other side of the field, Alice was just pulling onher dress, sliding the soft material over her hips and slipping her armsthrough the sleeves. Jacinda was standing behind her, helping to fasten thelaces that trailed along the top half of her spine before carefully moving herhair back into place to hide them. When she was done, she held out her hand andLucy passed over the veil, watching her mother clip it into place among hergolden locks before she took a small step back, allowing Alice to turn andadmire herself in the tall mirror by the side but instead, Alice held herselfvery stiff and still, refusing to look.

“All done,” Jacinda said, leaning forward slightly. When Alice stilldidn’t move, she reached a hand to gently touch her back. “Don’t you want tosee how you look?”

“I don’t know.” Alice finally breathed, still not turning to face herreflection.

“You should.” Came a familiar rough voice. “You look beautiful.”

“Hey,” Jacinda said, though she didn’t sound very serious. “No menallowed. A bride’s getting ready in here!”

“She looks ready to me.” Rumple said, walking into the tent.

Without needing to say anything, Jacinda placed her hands on Lucy’sshoulder and led her from the tent, giving the two friends a moment of privacy.After all, she still needed to get her own daughter ready for her important roleas the flower girl!

“Do I really look okay?” Alice breathed. She was shaking terribly andgripped her hands tightly in front of her, hoping to hide it from him.

“You tell me.” Rumple walked over, placing his hands gently on her backand turning her, forcing her to finally face the mirror.

Alice stood in a white dress made of such a soft silk so gentle that shealmost felt naked even while wearing it. The skirt fell down to stop just shortof her ankles without a single crease along the creamy white surface, and thetop was of a similar appearance except for the sleeves which were made fromfeather-like strips of material that barely reached her elbows and a series ofsmall diamond studs that patterned their way around her waist. It had a stretchof material like a cape that fell down from her shoulder blades and traileddown to the floor behind her, white but for two strips of light blue that splitapart from each other to end at either corner of the cape with even morediamond studs tracing over the top of them as small and many as the oneswrapping around her stomach. She had her own white veil attached to aglistening silver tiara positioned on the top of her head, quite plain andsimple but as beautiful as everything else, including the woman wearing it.

She had on a pair of soft comfortable shoes, white like her dress andplain except for a rabbit shape figure sown over the toes. Along with theshoes, she had a pair of short gloves that rest over the top of the hands shehad spent an hour getting manicured and painted just for today, only to hidethem later when she was shopping and found these perfect accessories to go withher dress. But that didn’t really bother her.

She had never worn so much make up in her life, but it was all verylight – soft blue eye shadow, pale pink lip gloss, gentle shades of blush to gowith her naturally tanned skin tone. The only dark part was the mascara whichhad been laid on lightly to make her natural blue eyes stand out. After manyhours of changing styles, they had decided to leave her hair down to hang loosearound her shoulders, curling it only enough that it was left with a ripplingwave effect. She had on a pair of earrings, silver in the shape of a bow loadedwith an arrow (a personal choice she insisted on when she saw them in the shopwindow the other day) and a plain silver chain resting around her throat givento her by Queen Tiana herself.

“See.” Rumplestiltskin said softly. “Beautiful.”

Alice swallowed, her mouth feeling dry. She was still shivering and hadto resist the urge to lean against Rumplestiltskin, who just seemed so muchwarmer than she was.

“Not the reaction I expected.” Rumplestiltskin noted. He paused, thensmiled softly over her shoulder. “About your father…”

“I know,” Alice said quickly. “He came… The other day. We talked.” Alicesmiled at Rumple’s reflection but there was still a deep sadness in her eyes.“He told me he asked you to give me away.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. “I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

Alice frowned, finally turning to look up at him. She was about to askwhat he meant when there was a sudden rush of a purple cloud from behind thetwo of them and Regina appeared in the middle of it, shielding Robin’s fromwhere she was stood behind her in a long green cape. As well as Regina blockingher way, she quickly turned around so her back was to Alice, just to be sure,so she didn’t see the startled look on her fiancé’s expression, or the amusedone on Rumple’s.

“Oh, Alice…” Regina breathed, momentarily caught off guard. “You look…Stunning.”

She felt Robin’s shoulders tense against her back and knew the younggirl was doing everything in her power to resist turning around and seeing herlove for herself. Instead she forced herself to hold still, staring at the chestopposite her and waiting for her aunt to give her the all clear.

“Rumple, cover Alice up. Robin has a late present she wants to givebefore the wedding.” Regina smiled, sharing a knowing look with her old friend.

A few minutes later, Alice had a blue sheet from the bed carefullywrapped around her body. They didn’t bother taking the tiara out from her hair,but carefully threw the veil back behind her to somewhat shield the silver accessoryand almost hide it. When they were both carefully covered, the two girlsfinally faced one another and Rumple and Regina silently stepped outside togive them some well deserved and much needed privacy.

“What’s wrong?” Alice asked nervously. The truth was, her earlier miserywasn’t just from wishing her papa could be the one to give her away. It wasalso from the fact that Robin had been distant in the days leading up to theirwedding. So distant that Alice was beginning to worry she was second guessingtheir marriage before it had even gotten started.

“Nothing.” Robin smiled. “Nothing’s wrong.” She was resisting the urgeto hug her and instead looked down at her feet, gathering her words beforelooking up again, still smiling with glassy eyes that looked close to tears.

“Robin… You’re scaring me.” Alice said finally.

“Don’t be scared.” Robin said quickly. “I just wanted to bring you my weddinggift.”

Alice frowned. “What? I… I didn’t think we were getting each othergifts…”

“We’re not.” Robin said. “I mean. I am. But I don’t expect anything inreturn. This isn’t just for you. It’s for both of us. So our family will becomplete.”

“I don’t understand.” Alice said, frowning again.

“Alice… This is a special day. It’s meant to be the perfect day. Ourperfect day. But that can’t happen. Not while you and your father are stillseparated. So I asked my aunt and mum to help me, to search and find a way toundo it. I thought they failed but then mum showed up just now and said she andRumple… Well…” Robin stepped forward and held out the vial. “Here.”

Alice gently took the vial from her, being careful to keep her dresscovered as she did and frowning down at it slightly. It was strange but she hada feeling she understood what it was Robin was trying to say. But she stilldidn’t dare get her hopes up until she was one hundred percent sure. “Isthis…?”

“Yes.” Robin whispered. “A cure. For your fathers poisoned heart. Allyou need to do is pour it on your wrist and get rid of the mark… And then youand your father can be reunited.”

“Are you serious?” Alice croaked, looking up at Robin with wide eyes.

“Yes.” Robin repeated, placing her hands over Alice’s. “You’re cured.”

Tears flooded Alice’s eyes and she threw herself against Robin. Her capelifted up slightly but Robin only saw a brief flash of white before Alice wason her, arms wound around her neck and clinging to her tightly like she wasnever going to let go. Robin wound her own arms around Alice’s waist, liftingher off the feet and swinging her around in a circle, nearly losing her balancebefore she placed her back down again, giggling as she felt Alice begin to kissher neck and cheek and lips and every other part of her face she could reach.

“You… You’re too amazing.” Alice gasped, clutching at her. “You are sowonderful and perfect. I don’t deserve you, Robin.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Robin said, leaning to rest their foreheadsagainst one another. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you…”

“No. It’s me.” Alice insisted.

Robin laughed. “How about this? We can both not deserve each other?”

“Okay then,” Alice giggled.

“Well? Are you ready?” Robin asked, nodding down at the vial still inher hand.

“No.” Alice admitted, swallowing before she opened the cork and pouredthe contents onto her wrist.

Most of the liquid absorbed straight into her skin but a few drops slid aroundand dripped down to the ground by her feet. She poured the entire contents outand stared down at the mark closely, both girls holding their breath as theywaited in an almost complete silence filled only with the distant voices stillshouting orders to one another. For a second nothing happened and Robin felt agreat wave of disappointment crashing on top of her, and even Alice’s lip beganto tremble.

Then, just as Robin was about to throw herself against Alice andapologise in the only way she knew how to – by hugging her as close as shecould get, Alice gasped aloud. She dropped the glass vial to the floor andgrabbed her arm, squeezing just above the mark and taking a small step back.Robin immediately moved to grab her, looking down and watching as the patternon her wrist suddenly burn a bright fiery red, almost like it was scorching herbut when Robin looked at Alice’s face, she saw she was more amazed than inpain.

And then the mark on her wrist shrivelled and crumbled, melting into herskin until it had vanished with no sign it had ever even been there before.Even after it had disappeared, the two of them stood in silence, staring downat her arm and breathing slowly like they didn’t dare make a sound in case thiswas a dream that they were about to wake up. Then, when a few minutes of tensequiet had passed, Alice reached up and gently ran her fingers over the skin,feeling the area where the mark had once been that was now as smooth and clear asthe rest of her arm.

“It worked…” Alice croaked, her voice sounding rough.

“It worked.” Robin repeated.

“It… It worked.” Alice gasped, her legs shaking and suddenly she wasleaning back against Robin for support as her knees gave way under her.

“It worked!” Robin laughed, wrapping her arms around Alice and kissingthe side of her shocked face.

“I can’t believe it. Robin… Is this really happening?” Alice mumbled.

“Yes, Alice.” Robin whispered, shutting her eyes for a moment and justenjoying the warm hold she had on her love. “All your dreams are coming true…”

O*U*A*T

“Thank you…” Killian said, swallowing hard the emotion threatening tobubble over from inside of him. But he resisted because he doubt The Dark Onewould appreciate being hugged by his old enemy.

“No need to thank me. It was Robin’s idea. And Zelena’s persistence.”Rumple shrugged. “Now go. She’s waiting for you.”

Nodding his head, Killian offered his old foe one last smile beforeturning and slipping inside the tent while Rumple went to take his place amongthe other guests who were almost all waiting patiently in their assigned seats.Meanwhile Killian came to a stop almost as soon as he had slipped inside,staring at the beautiful sight waiting for him. She looked stunning, so grownup and yet she was still and would forever be, his little girl.

“Alice…” Killian whispered. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“Do I look okay?” Alice asked, blushing. Her makeup had been smearedearlier but Robin had taken the time to help her reapply it before she and heraunt had returned to their own tent. It was almost exactly the same and yetsomehow Alice still preferred how she looked now to how she looked before.Maybe Robin just still had some left over magic in her touch.

“You look…” Killian shook his head. “Wordscannot describe it. Just know that you’re probably going to knock Robin off herfeet when she gets sight of you so don’t be surprised if you have to pause theceremony to help her back up again.”

Alice giggled, blushing slightly and looking down at her feet for amoment. When she looked back up again, her lips were shaking like she mightburst into tears and she pressed them together hard.

“Are you ready?” Killian asked finally, reaching and holding out hishand.

“No.” Alice breathed, but took a step forward anyway. Even she wasn’tsure whether she was talking about the wedding or simply walking it by herfather’s side.

When they were close enough, they both hesitated. After so long ofliving in fear of being too close to one another, they were finally able to betogether again and yet they were still reluctant and unsure. What if the potionwas temporary? What if it didn’t even work at all? What if something even worsehappened to them?

Then, before Alice could wonder about anything else and second guesseverything, her hand touched her fathers. They both froze. Their hands touchingand twin shocked expressions on their faces like they were both waiting for thecurse to kick in any moment. When a few slow seconds passed by and nothinghappened, Alice allowed herself to fall into his arms. He wrapped himselfaround her, and they clung to each other tightly, Alice using every bit ofstrength she had in her to hold back the tears for fear of ruining her makeup asecond time, but it was hard and it left her throat feeling bruised and rawwith the effort to swallow back joyful sobs.

They held the hug for a solid few minutes of pure silence that felt fartoo short when Killian placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed heraway. But even then, he held her close, his fingers squeezing against her likehe wasn’t actually going to completely let go and Alice knew she would beperfectly happy if he didn’t. In fact it seemed almost unfair that now theycould finally be together, Alice was moving on with her life. Killian alwaysimagined that once their curse was broken, they would pick right up where they leftoff, except where they had left off, Alice had been ten years old. She was agrown woman now, with a true love and the start of a life all her own.

“Are you ready?” Killian repeated.

Alice took a breath, smiling up at him and nodding. “Yes.” She whispered.Her first yes of the day.

Smiling, Killian turned to the side and held his arm out for her. Alicetook her time wrapping her hand to rest on the inside of his elbow, grinning asshe took another moment to enjoy the feeling of finally being able to walk theaisle with her papa. It was more than just a dream come true. It was an indescribablemoment of perfectness and Alice curled her body against his as they began tomake their way out of the tent.

Despite having no practice before hand, Killian seemed to know exactlywhere he was going and began a steady walk, leading Alice to one of the longcarpets (the green one) that stretched its way through the woods towards thecentre where their ceremony was being held. Along the way Alice clung to hisarm so tightly she was worried she was going to tear the material of his formaljacket. It was normally probably very soft but for some reason, in this moment,it felt rough against her fingers and she had to resist the urge to let go andwipe her sweaty palm on the skirt of her dress.

It wasn’t long before they could hear the soft music playing in thedistance. Alice felt like her heart beat was beginning to pump in rhythm to thesoft drums playing from the distance. Everything felt awkward. Her limbs werestiff like the joints weren’t bending properly despite how much she tried tostretch them in between steps. She was also cold, yet still felt like she wassweating and suddenly everything from her dress to her shoes back up to herhair just wasn’t sitting right. She wanted to adjust it all but there was notime. They were approaching the edge of the forest which led into the openclearing.

In the clearing, the trees were no longer able to hang overhead to shadethem from the sun, so when they stepped passed that point, the burning ball inthe sky burst down and almost blinded Alice. She blinked and squinted, loweringher head until her eyes adjusted. Then she looked up and found the sight thatcame to her was almost as intimidating as anything else she had faced duringher travels – including crazy Queen’s and fierce Jabberwocky’s.

There were rows of people in every direction, all dressed up sitting onbrightly coloured chairs, most of whom turned to watch her as she approached.Alice found herself staring back at a hundred odd faces, most of whom shedidn’t even recognise and she found herself wondering just how there were trulyso many people here today. There was no way that she and Robin actually knewall these people, and she couldn’t figure out where the rest of them had comefrom and why where they here for her wedding.

Alice might have stalled her steps if not for her papa by her side. But thankfullyhe was there to help lead her along in time with the music. His encouragementand slight pull on her arm kept her going down the middle of the crowds, easingher way until the podium came into full view. And then all Alice’s tense nervesmelted away when she caught sight of the woman approaching from the other side.

She was still a distance away but Alice could still see enough to makeher heart flutter. All her nerves were gone and now Killian was no longerpulling her along but rather dragging her back. If he hadn’t been gripping herhand between his arm and torso, she might have broken into a sprint, divedthrough the podium and into Robin’s arms then and there.

It seemed like an eternity before they finally made it to the centre ofthe ceremony. Alice barely noticed the people watching her any more, and at onepoint, even though they walked agonisingly slowly, Killian still slowed herdown even more so that she and Robin reached the podium at the exact samemoment. And as much as Alice was irritated by the painful slowness of it, shewas also grateful, as it gave her the time to take Robin’s appearance in slowlyas they came towards one another. If Alice had seen her all of a sudden, herlegs might have given way and she might have been the one to need help gettingback up. She was just so beautiful…

For her part, Robin was equally stunned by her love’s appearance. Sheregretted wearing her heels now, as balancing on them became a sudden challengeas soon as Alice’s shape appeared in the distance. Even when she was still afair stretch away, Robin could tell she was clinging to her father’s arm and aswell of pride rose in Robin’s chest, knowing that she helped make that happen,even if only by encouraging her mother’s help.

When they reached the middle of the crowd, Robin turned and gave hermother one last hug. Only then did she see that her mother was crying. And notjust tears in her eyes either, but a full on sob that would have made hermakeup run if not for the fact that she had used magic to keep it all in place.Zelena let out another sob as she hugged Robin and when they let go she cradledher face so tightly, some of her rings pinched her daughters skin and it seemedlike she wasn’t going to let her go until Regina appeared by her side and physicallyled her away.

Turning back to her bride, Robin’s face was flushed from embarrassmentand she smiled shyly as she took the final step forward. Surprisingly, whenRobin reached a hand towards her, it was easy for Alice to release her father,pausing to give him a last minute hug before reaching for her love. Maybe itwas because she knew they were able to be together now, or because of hernerves with what she was about to do, or because of her love for Robin or amixture of all of them, but Alice was able to turn away with only a slightquiver of regret and when she faced Robin… Everything else melted away. Thewhole world faded until it was just the two of them and she reached for her,taking Robin’s hands in her own and coming to a stop in front of her.

“You ready?” Robin breathed, she was shaking from excitement andclinging to Alice just as tightly as she was to her.

Alice’s tasted like sandpaper, knowing everyone was watching themclosely for her answer, so she settled for nodding her head in silence andsqueezing Robin’s hands until she thought she might break her fingers. Wordscouldn’t begin to describe how ready she was for this moment.

Killian wandered slowly away from the podium. He hesitated an extramoment, staring up at his daughter and feeling a tightness bind its way aroundhis chest. His little girl… The child who had grown up isolated from the world.His daughter, who played with teddies and dolls, waving around a wooden swordand first learning the rules of chess. And now here she was. About to getmarried to the woman of her dreams. And Killian was here, not just to witnessit, but to be an actual part of it.

Tiana stepped up in front of the two girls; beaming at how lost theywere in each other’s gaze. In fact they didn’t even notice Tiana was thereuntil she cleared her throat gently and reminded them why they were here.

“Thank you to everyone for joining us today,” Tiana said, her voicenaturally echoing along the crowd. “We have gathered to join Alice and Robin inthis, their special day.”

There was a short pause that allowed Alice to glance nervously at Robin,only to find her love was beaming at her as well. It was their special day. Andit was perfect.

O*U*A*T

The best part of having a witch for a mother and aunt was how easily itwas for them to clear up the space for the reception that followed. As soon asRobin and Alice were pronounced wife and wife, Regina and Zelena set abovewaving their hands until the open space was replaced with tables as well aschairs, including a large buffet that lined up the right side of the treesalmost completely. The tables were multicoloured like the chairs and the buffethad everything from marmalade sandwiches to candy apples and pizza with a addyour own toppings addition.

The band was now playing a more upbeat song and the space where thepodium had stood was now replaced with a marble stretch of floor for people todance on. Now that the quiet of the ceremony had passed, everyone was chattingwith one another and there was a slight buzz of conversations stretching fromone end of the clearing to the other.

Over by the buffet table, Alice and Robin had just cut into the weddingcake. On the outside it was your average every day wedding cake. It was talland white with strawberries surrounding the bottom and a line of frostingflower petals trailing up to the top where figures of a pair of young brideswere in a tight embrace. However once Alice and Robin had cut down into thecake and opened it up, along with a secret chocolate sponge, there was a stringof sweets that spilled out onto the white table cloth. Everything from chocolatebuttons to gummy beats had been stuffed inside the hollow area and Alicequickly picked up a piece and poked it passed Robin’s lips for her to a cry ofcheers from the audience around them.

Now the girls gathered a plate of food each, which included a slice oftheir cake and a litter of sweats covering everything before they returned tothe main table where Regina, Killian, Rumplestiltskin, Zelena and Chad were satwaiting for them.

“So how does it feel?” Regina beamed.

“What?” Alice blinked, a sandwich stopping halfway to her mouth as shelooked up at her.

“Being married, of course!” Regina laughed.

“Oh,” Alice blushed, lowering her sandwich shyly back onto her paperplate.

“It’s wonderful,” Robin said, leaning over and kissing Alice’s cheek.“More than my wildest dream could come up with.”

“That feeling will fade soon enough.” Killian grinned.

“Really?” Regina said, looking at him. “Marriage is a trap jokes?”

“What?” Killian laughed.

“You’re an idiot.” Zelena said, rolling her eyes.

Regina turned back to the girls. “Just ignore him.” She said, shakingher head.

Alice giggled, smiling at her papa and reaching over to take his hand.It was so simple and yet she still felt like crying over the fact that she wasable to do it, just like that.

Suddenly the music ended and there was a string of clapping as Tianamoved to stand beside the band. She smiled at everyone and once again spoke ina voice that carried despite needing no assistance from magic or technology. “Andnow, a special request from one of our beautiful brides.” Tiana beamed. “A songfor a father daughter dance.”

Alice did a double take before turning to look at Robin, who smiled backat her. She leaned over, pressing a soft kiss against Alice’s cheek and noddedher head. “Go on, Tower Girl. Go dance with your father.”

“Thank you…” Alice whispered, tears filling her eyes.

“Go.” Robin repeated, kissing her again softly on the lips.

There was a slight scrap from the chair beside her as Killian stood,reaching down and holding a hand out to her. Still fighting the tears, Alicereached up and accepted his hand, letting him help her onto her feet andguiding her to the middle of the dance floor. Everyone else had left it,leaving only her and her father to take centre stage.

As soon as they had come to a stop, a soft music began to play and Tianabegan to sing. Naveen appeared, stepping up beside her and joining in a perfectharmony. It was a beautiful song about being reunited in time to let go as theymove on with their lives. Alice didn’t really listen to the lyrics at first,focusing instead on her feet as Killian wrapped his arm around her waist andtook her hand. Alice reached up, putting her free hand on the back of hisshoulder and trying not to look so nervous as they slowly began to move aroundthe open space, just like when she was a child.

After a moment, the movement was no longer a challenge. Alice leanedover and rest her head against his shoulder, shutting her eyes and letting herfeet move on their own, feeling like she was ten years old again, back in hertower and dancing with her father for a few wonderful minutes of care free time.Those days in the tower had been awful because she was trapped, but duringthose songs when her father would dance with her, Alice almost forgot she was aprisoner. She forgot about all her troubles and everything except her love forher father and how wonderfully fun it was to just swing around the room withhim, knowing his open arms would always bring her back safely.

Now that she moved with natural ease, she allowed herself to listen tothe song Tiana and Naveen were singing for their dance. Alice wasn’t sure ifthey got lucky or if they had personally written the story themselves just forthis dance because it was spot on for them. And it brought tears to Alice’seyes as she clung to her father, not wanting to let him go like the lyrics weresaying she would. It was just a song and yet it felt like a warning that thishappiness wasn’t going to last…

Back at the main table, Chad cleared his throat and stood up. The guywas doing okay considering this was his first visit to the Enchanted Forestsince finding out the truth about magic and his wife. Robin was impressed withhow well he was adjusting, even though, he still looked like he was close topassing out from the shock of all things that happened to flutter by him socasually. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea for Regina and Zelena to use their magicto clear the dance floor with a wave of their hands…

“Um, Mar- Robin.” Chad said, catching himself before he said her oldcursed name. “I’m never gonna be able to replace your father, and nor would Iwant to but, would you at least allow me to-”

Robin grinned at him, jumping to her feet and reaching over to take hishand before he had even finished. Her and Chad weren’t exactly ever going to beall that close. He and her mother got together when Robin was already a grownwoman and then she had spent most of their dating and engaged life travellingthe world out of contact. But damn, the poor guy was trying. And he had alreadywon Robin over when he misunderstood a joke being made by Henry about Zelena’sgreen days and had immediately attempted to stand up for her. If that hadn’tmade Robin accept him, then the smile on her mothers face whenever she lookedat him certainly would have.

Zelena watched with a loving smile as Chad escorted her daughter ontothe dance floor and began to join Killian and Alice. The two pairs moved aroundthe floor with ease and everyone watched in an almost silence.

“I am sorry your father couldn’t be here,” Chad said as they danced.

“It’s okay.” Robin nodded. “He’s always with me, watching out for me,wherever he is.” She smiled softly.

“I’m sure he is.” Chad agreed. “I may not know him, but from what I’veread… He would have been so happy for you. And proud. And so am I.”

Robin beamed at him, even though his words were ringing a little hollow(like he said, he didn’t know her father so he couldn’t say what he wouldfeel), the poor guy really was trying and she loved him for that. Even ifeverything he was saying came out awkward and clunky, none of that really mattered.He was a sweet soul deep down and Robin allowed herself to lean against him,smiling at the knowledge that both she and her mother had found someone specialto live the rest of their lives with. And that made her more happy thananything else in the world possibly could.

“Alice?” Killian asked. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Alice croaked, keeping her face pressed against his shoulder.

“Starfish? Talk to me. What’s wrong? This is meant to be the happiestday of your life?” Killain stressed.

“It is.” Alice whispered. “I am happy but… This song is so sad.”

“Why?” Killian blinked.

“It just… Sounds like we’ve finally found each other and now we have tosay goodbye again and that’s not exactly a happy thought.” Alice mumbled.

“Love, that’s not what they’re singing about.” Killian assured. “We’vefound each other in time for me to trust your safety with someone who cares foryou just as much as I do. I’m letting you go for someone else to love but thatdoesn’t mean I’m ever leaving you.”

“Promise.” Alice croaked, looking up at him.

“I promise, Alice…” He glanced over her head then looked back down ather and smiled again. “But I am going to let you go.”

“What? Why?” Alice said, her voice cracking.

“I’m going to let you go because there’s someone else waiting for you.”

Alice frowned when suddenly Killian turnedher around and she found Robin, waiting with a soft smile on her face.Instantly Alice’s earlier worries vanished and she smiled as she felt herfather guide her hand towards Robin, just like the song was saying; he let goher go but he didn’t leave her. Instead he just stood back and watched from theside as Robin wrapped her arm around her and Alice let herself lean into herwarm embrace shutting her eyes and tucking her head against Robin’s shoulder.

Alice had always seen things that came to pass one way or another. Whenshe was younger, she had vivid dreams of things that she didn’t understand atthe time but somehow knew were of the future, telling a story of what was tohappen to her and the people she loved. She had seen many different directionsfor her life in those times and she saw many more while she was here now,dancing in Robin’s arms.

She saw her and Robin settling down in a home they would build withtheir own two hands (and the hands of the many friends and family whovolunteered to help them).

She saw them going on adventures and sharing the wonders of the world,but always returning to their home each and every day to spend a quiet eveningtogether.

She saw them starting a family of their own, one that her papa was aconstant part of to the point where he might as well have just move in withthem.

She saw them growing old together.

She saw them being happy.

And in that moment, Alice knew, everything was going to be more than okayfor her and her true love.

#Once Upon A Time #Curious Archer #KnightRook #Alice Jones #Killian Jones #Robin Mills #OUAT Fanfiction #Writing Prompt #Anonymous

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sadlittlenerdking · 7 years ago

Text

That Which Binds

The Magicians

Queliot

Word count: Holy shit clocking in at 5.1k

Summary: canon compliant up to 3x05 and then it goes super au. Quentin and Eliot love each other, but there’s a wedding. Don’t we all just want that happy new beginning?

He keeps expecting the doors to the throne room to burst open and for Quentin to stand there, huffing and puffing as he yells, “Stop the wedding!”

But Eliot says I do, slow and cautious, with his eyes locked on the door rather than his soon to be husband.

Idri squeezes his hand and pulls him closer, gazes at him in the way Eliot just wishes Quentin would allow himself to. It’s not even sweet, not really. Maybe it’s loving. But Eliot can’t be assed to care. Isn’t sure he could even identify if he did care. “I do.”

The doors remain shut as the audience applauds their royal marriage. Hurrah. Eliot forces a grin as he leans in and presses a chaste kiss to Idri’s lips. Ignores the pounding in his chest that resembles something shattering inside him. They turn to the audience, and bow.

Fillory and Loria are united.

Eliot's eyes flit across the room and meet Margo’s. Her jaw is set, and before he can even offer a nod in her direction, she’s storming out of the throne room. Maybe she’s off to kill Quentin. Part of him is pleased at the idea. But the dumber part . . . God. The idiotic part of him is still hopeful the doors will smash open, and Quentin’s just late. Late is okay. Late means he tried but something stopped him.

Late means he cares.

It almost feels as if he’s underwater as they make their way across the dance floor. The sounds of the music pump through him, but they’re far off and fuzzy, as Idri pulls him close and smiles into Eliot’s jaw, whispering dirty little nothings that Eliot would have enjoyed in another life, Eliot keeps his eyes locked on the doors. Before the alternate timeline this would have been perfect. This would have been everything. After he and Quentin walked through the clock and lived their lives—after they formed a family—Eliot honestly doubts anything will ever amount to even a fraction of what he and Quentin had. But, he gets to have sex with someone that actually arouses him. What a fucking prize.

In the past, it would have been.

He closes his eyes and whispers back to Idri, pretends to be a loving husband, talks about perfect wedding planning and gorgeous center pieces. How happy he is. Even still, though, every time he’s spun or they turn, behind his eyelids he can still sense the formidable structure of heavy wooden doors that remain closed.

He was so sure. Quentin seemed to finally understand what was going on with that giant overthinking brain of his. It seemed like he was finally willing to admit it. What he felt in the past life—what happened after Eliot died. He’d started opening up. His feelings were more on his sleeve than tucked away in his messenger bag. He’d smiled at Eliot every time he entered a room, the way he used to look at Alice. He’d held his hand beneath the dinner table. He’d been so openly and blatantly jealous when Idri proposed their nuptials resume.

Fuck. He’d even kissed Eliot not even twelve hours ago.

Every kiss, Eliot could count all the important ones on one hand, every single one had been Quentin kissing Eliot. Last night, he’d practically shoved Eliot up against the tree and kissed him like it would replace the words he couldn’t get out past his stuttering.

Why didn’t he come?

Why didn’t he stop the wedding?

Why does Eliot keep letting himself get hurt when it comes to Quentin Coldwater?

He sighs, deep, and opens his eyes. It’s because he loves him. From the moment he lost his words when Quentin stumbled up to him that first day; to the day he died in Past Fillory. Even now. After Quentin continues to do everything but choose him.

All Eliot’s ever done is choose Quentin. Drunk, stoned, or even as a clay version of himself. Quentin runs through Eliot’s blood. It’s like the great cock said: they’re brothers of the heart. Quentin holds Eliot’s heart, and he squeezes and he squeezes until it practically maims Eliot. Over and over again, until all that’s left is dust. And then Eliot’s heart rejuvenates, and the whole cycle starts up again.

And the worst part is Quentin doesn’t even realize it. Doesn’t realize just what he’d give up if it meant another stolen kiss beneath a hidden tree at the edge of the castles property line. If it meant watching him with their grandchildren one more time. If it meant...

If it meant the man holding him right now were him. Idri is a wonderful man and will no doubt be a fantastic husband. But.

Eliot’s been, for all intents and purpose, married to the man he loves already. And he’s already in one unhappy marriage.

One unwanted marriage.

And now here he is with another.

He’d been so certain that Quentin would stop the wedding.

Why hadn’t he?

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He frowns, turning with the tune of the music, “Julia?” He asks, stopping, “What’s wrong?” She opens her mouth to say something but stops, glancing at Idri where he still has his hands on Eliot’s waist. “What’s going on?” Eliot shrugs away from Idri, “Excuse us,” he mutters, but he’s already dipping away before Idri can respond, “Why do you look like death warmed over?” It’s true. She’s clammy, her clothes are disheveled, and if the smell emanating off of her is anything to go by—she may actually be death warmed over.

“You need to come with me. Back to Earth.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?” He asks, “I’m not sure you’re aware, but this is my wedding,” He outstretches his arms to emphasize the point. Part of him wants to scream at her. She’s Quentin’s real best friend, isn’t she? She could explain why he’s such a fucking bastard. “That I have very carefully, and with an immense amount of effort planned—“

“It’s Quentin.”

Eliot pushes his shoulders back and lifts his chin. Of course it is. It’s always Quentin. Quentin is Eliot’s life. Quentin who didn’t care enough to stop the wedding. “You mean the Quentin that decided not to come to my wedding?”

She makes a face, unimpressed, “He couldn’t.”

Two can play at that game. Eliot crosses his arm, doubly unimpressed. “Oh? Enlighten me. I’d love to hear his excuse for this one—“

“He almost died. Actually—he did die.” She shrugs a shoulder, “I brought him back.” Jesus—his heart can’t even figure out whether or not to crash out of his chest or if everything’s okay. Talk about emotional fucking whiplash. He’s torn between wanting to rip her hair out of her scalp and hugging her.

She did bring him back. Maybe no hair pulling. For now. “From the dead?”

“From the dead, Yeah. Are you coming or not?”

He considers it, relaxing his shoulders. He tries to tell himself that it’s okay. Quentin’s not dead. Anymore. God, when did magic get so fucking complicated? “How did he—“

“The Neitherlands. We found another portal and—we were attacked. He was shot with a fucking arrow. The cannibals were hungry or something. I don’t care, to be honest.”

Eliot swallows, thick, and forces himself not to imagine sharp arrows piercing through Quentin’s fragile little body. Oh, but there they are. Like tiny little needles at his brain. “How did you—,” His voice cracks and he looks away from her. Cant take whatever signature Julia look she’s giving him. “How?” He tries again.

“Does that really matter? He’s alive, but he keeps asking for you.”

He clenches his jaw and nods, “Let’s go.” Glancing back across the dance floor, where his new husband is talking with Tick, Eliot decides its probably for the best if he doesn’t announce that he’s leaving. “Out the back,” He adds, nodding towards a door separate from the rest of the room.

They make it out without too many interruptions, and back to the neitherlands in near record time. “Aren’t the fountains frozen?”

She nods. “But not when I touch them.” And as if to prove her point, she leans forward and delicately places a hand overtop the frozen water. And it all starts moving again, shimmering in the fountain as if it’d never been frozen in the first place. She starts to move over the water, “Come on.”

He looks up from the water at her. “How are—“

“I’m a goddess, apparently. It’s not really the subject at hand. Can you just—“

Eliot sighs, so much of his life is unexplained. He’s learned by now to just roll with the punches no matter how banged up he gets. So he steps over the side of the fountain and dives in.

Quentin’s lying on one of the couches, hand tossed over his eyes, chest heaving like he’s in a ridiculous amount of pain. “Why is—“

Julia shakes her head and rushes to his side, dropping something to the ground beside him, “Come on, Q,” She says, soft, “Wake up.” Oh.

Nightmares.

Quentin jerks awake, hand slamming into the side of the couch with a soft thump. He flinches as his other hand goes to wrap around his stomach. That must be where the arrow hit him. Eliot stands at the edge of the living room, unsure of what he’s expected to do, other than watch. And wonder.

Had Quentin been coming to stop the wedding after all?

Or was something more important?

When Quentin calms down, he seems to finally realize he and Julia aren’t alone, as his gaze slowly rakes up Eliot’s body, from his shoes all the way up to his face. “Eliot,” He breathes. His voice is even hoarse. God, all Eliot wants to do is wrap him up and never let go. Hang onto him and keep him from ever getting hurt again. He starts to push up from the couch, but Julia puts a hand on his chest to hold him down. “You’re not dead but you’re not fully healed. Don’t try to get up.”

“But—“

“Q, I don’t even know how I saved you the first time. Don’t ask me to risk not being able to do it a second time.” Quentin sighs, nodding silently as Julia stands up and points a finger at Eliot. “I’m going to leave alone with him, but if he dies while I’m gone—“

“Like I would let anything bad happen to him,” Eliot retorts, tone a little more biting than he intended. She may have brought him back, but she was there . . .

“Good.” She turns around and walks out of the living room without another word and Eliot turns his attention on Quentin.

God, what is he even going to say to him? I’m sorry I hated you for not coming to the wedding when you were dying? I’m sorry I kept thinking about how much harm you bring to me instead of all the good? How cou—

“You’re thinking louder than me,” Quentin muses, “That’s. That’s a feat.”

Eliot can’t help it, he chuckles before moving to sit on the edge of the coffee table. And when Quentin reaches out his hand, he doesn’t hesitate to lace their fingers together. “You are the reigning champion of overthinking,” He murmurs, as he looks down on their hands. It’s like they were made to fit like this. Idri’s hands are large, almost as large as Eliot's, which makes hand holding clunky and awkward. But Quentin’s are just a little smaller, calloused and warm and the perfect fucking size to fit in Eliot’s.

Quentin heaves a sigh, and Eliot turns his eyes up to his face. He’s pale. A little clammy. “I missed it, didn’t I?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. “The wedding?” Eliot opens his mouth to say it’s okay, but Quentin squeezes his hand and barrels on, “My chance.”

And Eliot swears his heart stops in his chest. “What?”

Quentin makes a face, turning his eyes up towards the ceiling. His jaw trembles. “I had a plan. I was— I was going to fix this. Break down the doors and beg you not to marry him. I just—,” He pauses, turning his attention back to Eliot, eyes glistening. “Eliot, I’m so sorry I realized too late. I— I should have realized. I shouldn’t have been so afraid back then. We raised a child—we. We were perfect. Together. And I—i was scared. And I had the chance to—to maybe make it right. But I fucked up and got shot by a fucking flying arrow and—“ He breaks off with a shake of his head.

Eliot watches him for a few long moments, heart racing.

Fuck.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Come on Eliot, you can hold it in. Don’t cry. Don't—

“El . . .”

Fuck.

He pulls his hand away to wipe at the tears welling up on his eyelashes. “I’m—“

Quentin reaches up and grabs his hand again, pulling it back to him, right over his chest and holding onto it with both hands. “I swear I wanted to be there, Eliot. I—I just needed a plan. And I had one.”

“A plan wouldn’t unite two nations, Q. There’s nothing you could have done.” It’s true. Even if Quentin had burst through the throne room doors and screamed, ‘Stop the wedding!’ at the top of his lungs, it wouldn’t have changed anything. The wedding wasn’t about love. The wedding was about uniting two nations. Making their kingdoms stronger. Actually stopping the wedding probably would have resulted in a war. Especially after Margo accused Ess of an attempted assassination and threw him in the dungeon without so much as an hasta la vista.

“Margo was going to marry Ess,” Quentin says. “She—I talked to her about it after I kissed you. She was going to marry Ess. I just had to show up and stop the wedding, and she was going to do the rest. But I fucked up,” He makes a sound disturbingly similar to a whimper, “I finally stop overthinking and get shot with an arrow because of it. I’m so sorry, El. I’m so, so—“

Eliot swoops forward and presses his lips to Quentin’s temple. “It’s okay,” He whispers into the skin, “It’s okay. This isn't your fault—“

“Stop that.”

“What?”

Quentin pushes him away, it’s gentle but it still stings. “Every time I fuck up, you—“

“I what?”

“You forgive me.”

Eliot shrugs a shoulder. “It’s usually not your fault.” Quentin raises an eyebrow, and okay. It usually is. Practically every bad thing after Quentin came to Brakebills has been Quentin’s fault. But, “That’s love,” Eliot murmurs, “I—“ He shrugs, because there’s no other way to put it. That’s what it is. He loves Quentin, for better or worse. “I can usually find a defense for everything you do.”

Even when it came to Quentin pushing him away after they got together in their past life.

“El…”

“We’re going to figure this out.”

“How? You can’t divorce—“

Eliot shrugs, pushing off the table to kneel by the couch and rest his forehead against Quentin’s. “I don’t know. But we will.” He pulls away just enough to look him in the eyes, “We always do, don’t we?” When his wife left him, they figured it out. When they had to raise a child, just them, they figured it out.

When they got stuck in the past trying to solve an impossible puzzle— they figured it out. Every problem that’s come their way, be it caused by Quentin or some stupid God being a dick, they figured it out. They always find a way. That’s who they are. They don’t give up, no matter how much they want to, because they have each other, and then depend on one another.

Now that he knows for sure, he’s not going to stop until he figures out a way to get out of this marriage and finally get a chance with Quentin. To finally get the life they deserve.

Just as he’s about to say as much, Margo crashes through the front door. How? He can’t even be bothered to ask.

“What the actual horse shitting fuck, Coldwater?” She screams as she storms into the living room. “What the fuck were you—“ She stops at the sight of Eliot, “El. Everyone’s looking for you back at the castle.” He’d figured as much. “But that’s not the point.” She turns her glare back on Quentin, “We had a plan you fucking overthinking, selfish weasel!”

“You shouldn’t have to marry someone you don't want to, Margo.”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to Eliot. “Honey, I’ve done it once. And he’s dead now. Do you really think I can’t handle Ess? He’s much easier to control. A little sex here and he’s done for the next three days. I’m not worried about him.” She turns her attention back on Quentin, eyes squinting accusingly. “Why do you look like shit?”

“He died.”

“I died.”

She stares at them for a few long beats before groaning, and looking up at the ceilings, “Can my friends please stop fucking dying?!” It really says something about the sorry state of their group that she doesn’t question how he’s still here if he’s dead.

They eventually make it back to Fillory. Margo’d had the key, which allowed her to get to Earth, but even still, time had once again moved a lot faster in Fillory than it had on Earth. The wedding decorations and guests have all disappeared. In fact, the only sign that anything that happened actually had happened, is the extra seat in the throne room for Idri. And many of Idri’s belongings in Eliot’s room. And, obviously, Idri, waiting for them is a big indicator.

“You’re back,” He says, though there’s no shock or even indignation. “Come, let’s talk.”

Eliot squeezes Quentin’s hand once before letting go and following after his husband. God. His husband. That’s somehow worse than him having to get used to saying his wife.

Wait, no.

No, it’s not.

They go out to the balcony in the throne room, and look out over Fillory. Neither of them say anything, not at first. Eliot, though he’ll never admit it, is too afraid to be the first one to speak. Too unsure of how to go about saying ’this wedding was a mistake and I hate that I went through with it and I hate that I can’t get out of it’ in a way that won’t send their two kingdoms into instant war.

Idri looks at him, thoughtful, and sighs. “The king. You love him.”

With a short, sardonic laugh, Eliot nods. “Yeah. I do.”

“And you’ve only just realized this?” When he doesn’t respond, it’s Idri’s turn to nod as he turns his gaze back on the sweeping view of the land surrounding the castle. “The wedding?”

“Obligation.” It’s the truth. There’s no point in lying anymore.

They go on in an uncomfortable silence as Eliot looks down at the ground beneath them, his arms crossed over the side of the balcony. “Tell me,” Idri says, finally, “Have you tried being with another, besides your wife, since magic disappeared?”

“Th—“ He cuts himself off. Because no, not in a world without magic. But in the past. Where there was magic. But technically Fen hadn’t been born yet. So, theoretically, it made sense that that night with Quentin was possible. They’d never really even thought to question how they’d done it. They were too busy, well, doing it. “No,” he settles for. Because how does he explain that they traveled through time, then didn’t, but still remembered everything that technically didn’t happen? Easy—he doesn’t.

“I did some research after it was clear you were probably not returning.”

Eliot frowns, turning to look at him, “I’ll always come back. Fillory is my home—“

“Returning to me, Eliot.”

“I’m—“

Idri holds up a hand. “Without magic, there are no spells or entanglements. No one thing binding two people together for as long as they live.” He smiles softly, almost sad, “Without a god, any spell he cast on the people of Fillory or the castle—it’s like it never existed. The world he created lives on. But the magic of it is gone.” He raises his eyebrows meaningfully and looks out over the grounds again. “I told you about my first love, when we first met. Love is not something one gives up. Not without a fight.”

Eliot takes a slow breath in, the words sinking in as the air settles in his lungs. No spell means no forced eternity. No spell means—

“W—what are you saying?”

Turning his head just slightly, to look at Eliot out of the corner of his eye, Idri asks, “Would your high queen willingly marry Prince Ess?” Each word is slow to settle. Slow to morph into something with meaning. Eliot can’t even think to answer. Can’t even begin to try to find the words to express his confusion and gratitude and god, the confusion is the strongest of them all.

“I—“

“Our kingdoms alliance is important,” Idri adds, turning to face him full on. “But forcing you into a marriage that will separate you from the person you love? I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t. I imagine the two of you have been through so much already to get you to this point. And, though, the idea of you and me sounds… explosively magnetic. I won’t ask you to make another sacrifice. Love is sacred. I wouldn’t ask you to give that up. Not when you don’t have to.”

As amazing as this all sounds, “We’re already married, though. Divorce doesn’t even exist here.”

“Divorce?”

“Exactly!”

“There’s a ceremony of sorts. No practitioner or anything required.” He looks down with a half smile and reaches into his pocket, “It’s quick, and simple.” He lifts his hand, and in it is the cloth that was wrapped around their wrists during the wedding. “Together, we must rip it in half. The bond will be broken because there’s no magic holding it together. And then, you’ll be free to be with the man you actually love.”

Eliot’s mouth falls open as he stares down at the cloth. Days of stressing and working up the courage to have this talk, and it’s all as simple as breaking a piece of cloth? Days of holding Quentin at arms length for fear of not being enough? And all they have to do is rip a cloth?

It can’t be that simple.

Their lives are not that simple.

“I don't understand why you’re doing this.”

Idri laughs, gently, closing his fist around the clothing, “Because nobody wants to be miserable for the rest of their life, when happiness is just a few steps away. But I need to be clear—we can only do this if our kingdoms are still united.”

“Margo and Ess.”

He nods. “Margo and Ess.”

That was part of their plan. And she thinks she can handle Ess. Thinks it’s not a big deal. But he can’t ask her. He can’t make her make that decision for him. Eventually she’ll come to resent him—

“I’ll do it.” What? He flips around, eyes wide as Margo stands in the doorway, blinking innocently with a knowing smirk on her lips. She rolls her eyes at him and nods at Idri. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry your infuriating, son,” She offers a shrug, “Maybe even teach him a thing or two about being a decent human being.”

“Bambi—“

She narrows her eyes at him, “El, sweetheart. You made a sacrifice once already for everyone when you married Fen. And you did it knowing you’d never be able to leave Fillory. You did that shit knowing you’d lose practically everyone and everything and any chance at a decent boner,” She takes two careful steps towards him and pokes him directly at the center of his chest, “It’s my turn to be the good guy. You’ve filled up your quota.” And in true Margo fashion, she doesn’t even allow him a chance to say no before she’s turning to Idri, “Alright, king sexy. Let’s rip up that cloth and get this marriage train on the tracks. I may need a new dress, though, my other one’s covered in blood.” She scrunches up her nose, “And maybe a new bed, as my now deceased husbands throat was slit by his mother while we were sleeping, and there’s a whole lot of blood stains.”

Idri smiles at her and opens his fist, offering the cloth to Eliot. “Shall we?”

“Don’t we need scissors or—or something?” Idri shakes both his head and the hand holding the cloth, “It’s—we can do it right here, right now?”

Idri glances back at Margo, “Do I have your word that you will marry Prince Ess?”

“Swear on everything important to me. Which is really just Eliot and Quentin. I’ll marry Ess.”

“Then yes,” He looks back at Eliot, “Right here, right now.”

“And how will people know—“

“I’m sure the marriage announcements will make it clear what’s happened, Eliot. Please,” He motions towards the cloth, “Don’t doubt your ability to be happy.”

Margo, less kindly, adds, “Seriously, El, if you don’t take that fucking cloth—“

Eliot reaches up, moving faster than he even knew he was capable, and Idri holds tight to his end as Eliot pulls at it with every fiber of strength in his body. The cloth rips almost too easily, and he falls backwards, crashing against the side of the balcony. His breath whooshes out of him as he collides with the wall, and something heavy lifts off his chest that he hadn’t even realized was there. He looks across the balcony at Idri, who seems to realize the same weight’s lifted, but he doesn’t seem as surprised.

Margo smiles sympathetically. “Happens when a vow is broken, El. I felt it when — well. You know that story already.” When her husbands throat was slit while she slept beside him. Yeah, he knows that story well enough.

Idri smiles at them. “Now that our business is concluded,” Eliot can’t help but notice that he’s also a little breathless, “Margo, we need to go speak to Ess. And Eliot . . . I believe you have good news to share.”

Margo scoffs, “Q and I were listening in on this whole thing. He knows everything already. He’s just waiting to be polite.” The ‘and to give Eliot the opportunity to change his mind’ goes unsaid.

There’s a small sigh and a quiet, indignant, “Damn it, Margo,” from just outside the doors, and then a sheepish Quentin peeking his head out with a guilty smile. “… Hi.”

Laughing, Margo presses a kiss to Quentin’s cheek with a quiet, “Don’t fuck it up!” And pulls Idri through the throne room and out of sight.

Quentin chews on his lower lip as he steps onto the balcony. He’s staring down at the ground in front of his feet, like he’s suddenly frightened of anything and everything Eliot might say. So Eliot breathes out through his nose, and huffs. “Well,” He says, “You’d better not miss the next wedding, or it’ll be horribly embarrassing.”

Quentin’s head jerks up, “What?”

“What, what?”

“No—El—what?”

“We’re obviously getting married.” He smirks down at him as he takes a single step closer, waiting for Quentin to make the next move. And Quentin does. He takes one step, as well, cautious and careful until Eliot moves again. And so the game goes until they’re standing inches apart, Quentin gazing up at him with those stupid doe eyes and his lower lip sucked into his mouth. “I can’t have you running off with some other debonair High King.”

His lower lip pops out of his mouth as he smiles and looks away, towards the throne room and back. A slight pink tints his cheeks. “I don’t know,” He says, moving in, closing the few inches between them, but still so far because he’s so god damned short. “You just got out of a relationship—“

Eliot’s hands move of their own accord, until he’s got one wrapped around the back of Quentin’s neck, and the other on his lower back, “Q,” He whispers, leaning down, so close he can feel Quentin’s breath on his eyelashes. “Shut up. And say you’ll marry me.”

He pretends to think about it for a moment, “I can’t do both of those things— it’s shut up or say yes. Which is it?”

“God, you’re a loser.”

Quentin grins up at him, his arms coming up to wrap around Eliot’s waist, “A loser you’re about to spend a second lifetime with.” The corners of his lips twitch as he unwinds one arm, to reach up and wipe at a tear from Eliot’s cheek. God, since when does he cry? And why is it happening without his knowledge or control? “Happy tears?”

Eliot lets out a small, choked up laugh and nods, “The first of the kind.”

“I mean you kind of sobbed when Rupert got his first girlfriend.”

Shaking his head, Eliot narrows his eyes, “You promised to never mention that.” But he can’t help the smile that follows the statement, and decides he can’t help leaning down to press his lips to Quentin’s, either. It hadn’t been too long ago that Quentin had pushed him up against a tree and kissed him like it was all he knew to do, but somehow it felt a lifetime ago. And then there was the kiss. The perfect kiss that actually was a lifetime ago.

Quentin pulls away, his thumb stroking the damp skin beneath Eliot’s eye. “Happy anniversary, Eliot.” The words that started it all.

“Get out of my head, Coldwater.”

Quentins quiet for a moment before he swallows audibly and leans up, on the balls of his feet, and says, right up against Eliot’s lips, “Never.”

He wonders for a moment, why he loves this man.

But then, he remembers a moment both lifetimes and yet only a few years ago, of a fresh faced, confused student, stumbling into his life, and staring up at him with big brown eyes, and a bag full of books. And he doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

They’re always been Quentin and Eliot. Even before they knew each others names. Some things are stronger than death and misery, and gods and magic. Some things are stronger than destiny.

Some things defy the odds.

They just happen to be one of those things.

And considering their outrageously terrible luck—“We’d better get married sooner rather than later.”

That’s one of those things Eliot doesn’t want to push.

Quentin laughs and pulls him in for another kiss.

#the magicians #queliot #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh #margo hanson #king idri #prince ess #riz writes

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