#and like the squires are literally just like the familiars

[pendragonsclotpole]

So I just started watching Galavant and I would just like to say: Galavant walked so WWDITS and OFMD could run.

[offsidekineticist]

I'm still taking a break from aeon Theo, but I was going through my random untitled documents and found what I wrote about his first night ever in Drezen and I need to tell someone about this.

Cw: sort of suicidal ideation (of the "determined to go out in a blaze of glory" variety)

So Theo is tiny, even for a gnome - like, based on the 1e height tables, it shouldn't be possible for a male gnome to be as small as he is. He's closer to average halfling height than average gnome height because childhood malnutrition is a bitch. But what this means is that he gets to Mendev, and literally none of the crusader orders will take him, Steve Rogers style.

But Theo doesn't really have anywhere else to go. His library burned down and his home is in the middle of a civil war and he ran away. He can't bear to go back and face the people he tried to abandon - especially not the kids. So when none of the orders in Kenabres will take him, he decides to go to Drezen on his own and convince someone there to let him fight.

In the end, he arrives in Drezen a couple of years before the Second Crusade and impresses Staunton Vhane (by punching him really hard after Staunton laughs at the idea of him being a crusader). Staunton tries to get Theo a position in the garrison, but Commander Verstol is like "aw, I love the enthusiasm, little guy, but this is no place for a little fella like you!" Staunton immediately goes Qui-Gon Jinn mode and is like "Theo is now my squire!" Which is the only reason Theo is allowed to join the crusade (and is also funny because Staunton is a paladin and Theo is godless so it's really not a good match).

Here's the part that made me go like "I need to post about this": before Staunton pulls the squire uno reverse big brain plan, Theo is already planning what he's going to do now that this hasn't worked out. And his plan was to try to join the Hellknights. Because, yes, he hates them, and he'd be a terrible hellknight, but the idea of going home after running away when home needed him most is so awful to him that he'd rather be a massive hypocrite and try to make himself into something he hates (or at least pretend he's trying long enough to die heroically).

And now I'm imagining an AU where Theo does join the hellknights and his mentor is one of the original five of the Godclaw. He's "killed" pretty early on, but this version of Theo gets it together enough to "die" in a manner worthy of a hellknight, so when the Godclaw gets their citadel and, like, a plaque with the names of their fallen, Theoven's is at the top as the first member of the Godclaw to fall in the line of duty. And Regill spends his entire time in the Godclaw in the shadow of his brother's sacrifice, not sure what made Theo change his mind about the hellknights, but determined to live up to the standard Theo would have surely held himself to.

And then Theo isn't dead, and he's also a complete fucking mess and just terrible at everything Hellknight related except having such low self-esteem that he's willing to throw his life away for the Mission. And Regill is pretty sure this is some kind of demonic trick to undermine morale by sullying the memory of the Godclaw's first fallen, but also this version of Theo is much more familiar than the legend of Hellknight (posthumous) Theoven Derenge and at some point he realizes Theo is only remembered as he is because he's a vicious fighter with a death wish who "died" before he washed out, and his mentor leveraged the "heroism" of his death to recruit hellknights to the Godclaw, and, uh, Regill has no idea what to do with that knowledge.

[avecra]

A Change In Duty - 7

series summary: In the Northern Lands is where you meet Natasha’s fiance, King Steven and right hand man Captain James Barnes, who takes an affinity to you quickly, though you are hesitant to trust him. But when a familiar darkness begins to loom over the kingdom, you won’t hesitate to uphold the duty to your royals to protect them. And Captain Barnes will do anything to ensure the safety of the Queen’s Lady.

pairing: knight!bucky x lady!reader

word count: 4.5k

chapter warnings: romance, hurt/comfort, angst, soft!bucky is all heart eyes, fluff

a/n - if you saw this a first time, tumblr is literally stupid so this is me reposting it

series masterlist // next chapter

Natasha could sense the change in your demeanor over the next few months. She began to notice how the tenseness from your shoulders had completely dissipated. You had finally begun to feel at ease and relaxed, and it warmed her heart. Especially considering the fact that her wedding was less than two weeks away, it brought her some relief that you were your usual self. A side to you that she had only seen a handful of times.

 It was a beautiful sight for her to see the happiness in your cheeks and the light in your eyes. You felt lighter, the weight that had been sitting on your shoulders had finally been released, Bucky had made sure of that. 

The more time you spent with him, the happier you felt. Being in the presence of him made you feel safe, more secure than ever. 

A chill swept up your spine as you stepped into the corridor, a fleece lined cloaked sat on your shoulders over your dress. You made your way down to the kitchens, peering your head inside, seeing Wanda sitting at one of the benches enjoying her breakfast. 

You slipped into the room, sneaking two muffin pastries from the cabinet and quickly made your way back to the hallway, walking in the direction of the training grounds, looking around for the captain, wanting to give him a little boost of energy for the day.

It was a snowy morning; the skies were painted grey, still recovering from the raging storm that had passed earlier this morning. You had remembered Bucky mentioning the clouds that began to pass through the mountain. Snow would be expected for the next couple of weeks. Though you didn’t mind, it was a beautiful sight to see. As you came up to the training yard, you looked around the nearly empty grounds that were covered in snow searching for the captain, but all you found was his lieutenant and squire. Sam’s eyes moved from the young boy and beckoned you forward with his hand. 

“Morning, my lady,” Sam greeted you with a warm smile.

“Good morning,” you reiterated softly, sending a warm smile to the young squire. You glanced around the yard. “Do you know where Bucky is?”

A knowing smile crossed over his face and he nodded. “Went out for a ride with Dahlia. He should be returning any minute.”

You nodded, tightening your hold on the pastry in your hand. Sam noticed the slight tension in your body, and he patted Peter’s shoulder and made his way over to you, standing inches away from you. 

“Y’know,” the knight started as you looked over at him. “he is just as infatuated as you are. Probably even more,” You smiled slightly, your shoulders relaxed. “I’ve known the captain for years and I can truthfully say that I have never seen him this happier since your and Her Grace’s arrival. I believe you make him a better person, lady.”

Your brows furrowed; that couldn't possibly be true. You had been told stories of Bucky’s bravery during the war, during his time as captain, defending the kingdom and its people from danger. 

How could your presence make him better than he already is?

You opened your mouth to retort, but Sam held up his hand. “Believe me when I say he has not been this happy and chipper in a long while. He may not seem like it with you, but with me he’s the grumpiest person I have ever met.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that took over your features, cheeks burning hot. Who would have thought that someone like you, a noblewoman who had hopped from region to region with no immediate family, had wounded the captain of the knight guard on his knees for you. 

“Do I make it that obvious?” you quietly asked, and Sam laughed, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Peter shovel the snow away. 

“Kind of,” Sam chuckled. “But he makes it way more obvious.” He winked at you just as the gates opened slightly. The sounds of hooves galloping against the road came closer within earshot. “Besides, I think you two are perfect, I believe you even each other out. And you have really helped him.”

Sam’s words echoed in your mind and you sent him a smile, turning your head to see Bucky and Dahlia ride in just across the yard. Until blue eyes landed on yours, then did he guide the black mare in your direction. The lieutenant stepped back just as Bucky dismounted and made his way over to you with a smile. 

“Good morning,” Bucky whispered in a low voice, leaning in to grab your hand and place a soft kiss against your palm. 

You could have nearly melted at the sound of his voice. 

“Hi,” you breathed out, pushing the wrapped pastry in Bucky’s direction. “I remember you saying that you liked the blueberry muffins Wanda had made a few weeks ago.”

Bucky smiled as he took the two pastries from your grasp, leaning down to smell the sweetness of the muffin. ‘’Thank you, sweetheart,” You smiled and nodded and began to pull away, but he held onto your hand tighter, keeping you anchored to him. “Have you eaten today?”

“No, I have not,” you mumbled, slightly cursing yourself for not grabbing something for yourself. Perhaps you could snack on something with Natasha later whilst going over the guest list for the wedding. 

“Have breakfast with me.” Bucky requested, not giving you a chance to answer because he was pulling you by the hand towards the castle. You obliged silently with a smile, holding his hand tightly as he led you to the kitchen, where thankfully there was no one. The lingering smell of the porridge the cooks made hit your nose and your stomach grumbled in response. 

Bucky sat you down at the table and squeezed your shoulder before making his way to the stove, reaching for a bowl. You watched him with adoration as he ladled porridge into a bowl and topped it off with the fruits you enjoyed the most and brought it over to you. 

The flutter in your stomach as his fingers brushed against yours was hard to ignore, not with the way he effortlessly cared for you. It was a foreign concept to you, some things were going to take a little longer to get used to, but even after everything he had done for you, his actions still surprised you.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you said, reaching out to grasp his hand as he finally settled next to you. 

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” he insisted, but you shook your head.

“No, I need to. I really appreciate you, Bucky. Even when I pushed you away you still put effort into caring for me. It is something I am not used to, but I cherish your thoughtfulness so much.”

If he could, he would have pressed his lips against yours if you were just a couple inches closer. He so desperately wanted to, grasping your body closer to his.

Bucky squeezed your hand affectionately and nodded his head. “There isn’t anything I wouldn't do for you, milady.” He placed your porridge in front of you, along with a glass of juice. “Eat. You’ll need your strength for  later today.”

You smiled and took a bite of your breakfast, all while still holding onto his hand tightly.

---

The crackling of the fire filled the small space of the library as you spread out all the guest names, unaware of the surnames written elegantly on the thick cards. Natasha held Steve’s hand as they both walked hand in hand behind you, silently going over the names. Bucky and Sam stood yards away, standing with straight, rigid postures, though Bucky loosened whenever you glanced his way with a smile. 

“Is this everyone, lady?” Natasha asked, grasping Steve’s arm tightly, pulling him along. 

You hummed, taking a step back from the table where the cards sat. “The Kingdom of Wakanda sends their congratulations to you and their apologies for not making it. Otherwise, here are the two hundred guests who will be attending, though it is mainly your people.”

“I took the liberty of inviting some from all around the lands, though I am not expecting everyone to be in attendance. The harsh storm is projected the week of our glorious day, I doubt some will actually make the trip up here,” Steve said, looking over at Natasha with a smile. 

The look of love. A look that had crossed Bucky’s face whenever he gazed at you. 

“The less people the better, I would say,” Natasha whispered, though you could hear here even though you buried yourself. “Just you and I, my love.”

“Just you and I, dove.” Steve repeated, leaning in to place a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. 

You felt eyes bore into your form and you moved your eyes from the cards over to the knight standing by the bookshelf, his attention solely on you, the softest smile and the adoration glinting in the ocean of his eyes as he looked at you.

This time, you did not shy away from his gaze. 

Instead, you smiled at him and looked back, a silent conversation played between the two of you. His eyes fell from your face down to the dark colored dress that you wore, smiling when he saw the rose pendant hanging from your neck, the memory of him first defending you flashed through his mind. 

His azure eyes found yours once again, this time lighter. 

You look beautiful. You could hear this gaze tell you, even with no words spoken.

Your hand instinctively found its way to the rose, grasping the charm tightly as you subtly bowed your head at him and looked away after minutes of gazing into the blues of his eyes. 

You turned your attention back down to the cards again, glancing over to your dearest friend to see her in Steve’s arms as they admired the snowfall together, relishing in each other’s presence, quietly conversing, though you could not directly hear them, a smile crossed your face as you heard Natasha’s quiet laughter. 

Though Bucky’s gaze remained locked onto yours, you continued to look at the attendees for the wedding, wondering who you would get the honor of meeting. You smiled to yourself, seeing the captain still locked on you in your peripheral vision. Turning your head, you looked towards him and playfully rolled your eyes at him, emitting a chuckle from the knight before you turned back to the cards, a smile evident in your features.

The smile was torn from you in an instant, vanished completely and it felt as if all the air from your lungs was stolen as your eyes locked onto the card with the names of the people who haunted your dreams. 

King Alexander Pierce. 

Your hands began to tremble, even after you formed them into fists.

Prince Brock Rumlow.

Tears burned in the backs of your eyes, threatening to peek out.

Prince Quentin Beck.

Breaths came in too quickly, you felt dizzy and numb.

You wanted to wither away and lock yourself in your room, but you remained still, a lump formed in your throat as you tried to bring yourself out of the memory that was threatening to reel you in, pulling you beneath the surface.

I am not their puppet anymore. I am not their puppet anymore. I am not their puppet anymore. I am not their puppet anymore-

A warm familiar hand touched the small of your back and a soft voice spoke out to you, quietly and hushed, “Y/n? Are you alright?”

The sound of your name falling from his lips pulled you from the dark waters that dared to drown you. You blinked your eyes and turned to him with a look of fear, adoration quickly vanished, and Bucky could see the panic beginning to bubble over. 

He quickly caught your hand in his, squeezing tenderly as he ran his thumb over your scars, cautiously glancing back to Steve and Natasha, seeing them both caught in their own little world. 

He tightened his hold on your hand, his other hand tightening around your waist. His head dipped down, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “You’re okay, you’re not there anymore. You’re safe with me, you’re safe. It’s just you and me sweetheart.”

Your heartbeat began to settle and you found yourself following his breathing, slowly inhaling and exhaling just as he did, until you found your breath again. 

Bucky pulled back, placing a hand on your shoulder, urging you to look at him. He was silent, and just as before, his eyes upheld a conversation.

Please don’t shut me out. Not now. Cerulean eyes begged you and you pushed out a smile, albeit small and forced. 

“Later, please.” you softly requested, only loud enough for the knight to hear. 

Bucky nodded and began to pull away from you, but not before placing a soft kiss against your temple. Your eyes slipped closed, relishing in the feel of his lips against your skin, his hand tightening around yours before both of his touches pulled away simultaneously. He walked back to his post, though kept an eye on you, as you’d expected.

You took a moment to compose yourself, sniffling quietly and patting the skin under your eyelids with your fingers until you looked ahead at Natasha, revealed to see her still in Steve’s arms, oblivious to the world around them.

“Shall I leave you be, Nat?” you called quietly, and the woman turned in her lover’s arms, eyes widened.

“Oh, my dearest,” Natasha squeezed Steve’s arm before untangling herself from him and making her way over to you. “I think I would like to spend the day alone with my fiancé.”

She was smiling brightly and it brought joy to you, knowing that she finally had found her love. You nodded and hooked your pinky around hers before pulling away, leaving her alone with her lover. Bucky’s gaze followed you as you made your way out of the library, though you stopped in front of him. 

“Later.” you reminded him.

Bucky nodded and leaned down, placing a kiss against your cheek. Once he pulled away, you silently made your way out of the library, exhaling shakily once the doors shut. The trembling resumed and you brought a hand to your mouth to muffle the sob that threatened to spill out. 

You couldn’t escape them, no matter how far you fled.

Anxiety bubbled in the pit of your stomach as you wrapped your hand around the frigid metal railing, looking over towards the snow covered mountains, praying to the gods above that they wouldn’t make it due to the weather. 

If not, you feared the things they would do once they found out where you were.

---

You had been staring at the same page for well over ten minutes. A huff of frustration passed through your lips and you stood up, tossing your book on the table as you strode to the window. The sun was beginning to set, casting beautiful shades of purple and pink across the sky. An anxious feeling had been gnawing at you for hours, and no matter what you tried, you could not get rid of it, continuing to nibble on your lip.

You heard the door to the small study that you currently found yourself in open suddenly, automatically knowing it was Bucky. 

“Is it later?” His voice was soft. Your throat tightened as you turned to face him, meeting his concerned gaze. He stepped forward, reaching for your hand. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Your brows furrowed as his hand tightened around yours, looking back to the window to see the lowering sun. “The sun is going down. How will you ride in the dark?”

Bucky said nothing and led you out of the study by the hand. You caught his eye but all he gave you was a smile. “Just trust me.”

Trust me.

Of course you trusted him, there wasn’t anyone else in the entire universe who had treated you with this much kindness, this much love. In perspective, Bucky shouldn’t have cared this much, as you were just a woman tending to her employer.

Yet there he was, a comforting shoulder to cry on, a companion to make light conversation as you ventured into town, someone to call a friend. 

Perhaps even more. 

“I do.” you said as he slipped on a heavy cloak over your shoulders, tightening several knots from your sternum down just below your bust. His eyes met yours, his gaze never leaving you, even as he brought the hood over your head. It was only when he led you to the stables did his eyes leave yours. 

The dark fur of Dahlia caught your eye and you couldn’t help the surge of excitement that passed through you. As Bucky went to gather supplies, you made your way towards the mare, holding your hand out, but she did not need to sniff your scent as she immediately brushed her head along your arm.

“Hello, sweet thing,” you whispered softly, scratching along the white patch of fur along her snout. A hand gently touched your shoulder and you looked to the side to see Bucky pack the last few of his supplies.

He wordlessly handed you a bundle of carrots to feed Dahlia and he prepped her saddle. It didn’t take long, once he was finished, he couldn’t help but to stop and watch how the smile you wore reached your eyes, even a little. He noticed you looking back at him and reached out for your hand.

“I thought we could try something a little different this time,” Bucky said, placing his hands on your waist. You could feel him rub his thumb over the fabric of your dress. “You’ll want a good viewing seat.”

Before you could process his words, Bucky lifted and placed you directly onto the saddle, waiting for you to adjust yourself before he hoisted himself behind you. He reached around you, grabbing the reins and looked down at you. 

“Ready?”

You nodded and he tugged on the reins, letting Dahlia take off through the open stable doors. You leaned back into Bucky, head falling onto his shoulder, feeling one of his arms snake across your waist to hold you steady.

Shades of pink and purple and orange nearly faded, revealing the dark night sky. You clutched onto Bucky’s arm tightly, seeing the dark forest come into view. But he just held you firmly to his chest and whispered, “look up to the sky.”

Your eyes glanced over to him briefly before turning to the dark sky. Just as Dahlia passed through the first line of trees before a green light casted over the sky, spreading out, feathering across the sky. A gasp passed through your lips, watching in awe as the light shifted through the sky, moving along with the air. 

“Not completely dark,” Bucky whispered in your ear as Dahlia galloped further in. Bucky didn’t want to go further than a few miles, knowing the dangers of the cold forest. 

“The Northern Lights, right?” Bucky nodded. “It is so… beautiful,” you breathed out. Bucky kept his gaze solely on you, even as he slowed down his horse. Watching the way you were smiling, the light in your eyes he hadn’t seen since this morning, whatever tore the spirit away from you. There were names he himself recognized, but he was cautious about the idea of assuming anything. 

“It is,” he murmured, keeping his gaze on you as he pulled on the reins. Green reflected off the snow, giving the forest more light than you had expected. 

Moments of comfortable silence passed by before Bucky eventually had to ask. 

“I think it is later now.” he whispered against your ear. He could feel you nod against his shoulder, eyes still glued to the sky, so he gave you a few moments to compose yourself. You leaned forward, slipping away from his warmth. His hands ran up and down your torso before he dismounted, keeping close to Dahlia.

“Whatever it is, I am here with you. I am not going to let anything happen to you, Y/n. I promise.” Bucky said, latching onto your hand. 

You could have melted right off of Dahlia and into his arms, but you held yourself steady. Your eyes slipped close for a moment and you gripped his hand tightly and took a deep breath.

Trust me.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting azure eyes.  

“I saw their names on one of the cards,” you whispered, eyes gauging the sudden rigidness of his shoulders, though his facial features softened. “They will be here for the wedding.”

Bucky nodded, understanding who ‘they’ were. He could hear it in the shakiness of your voice, the fear that covered your eyes. He stroked the back of your hand as you explained the fears you felt. 

He couldn’t stop the rage that swam through his body, the fury he felt knowing there was no way you could avoid them at the wedding. You would be in a constant state of anxiety, of paranoia, of fear. He couldn’t let you become fearful of your own home. 

“What are their names?” Bucky asked, voice steadily calm despite the anger and fury he felt.

He had to keep his anger far away from you. 

You had been subjected to enough of it in your lifetime. After nearly half a year knowing you, Bucky could get a read on what made you anxious and what made you calm. 

You shook your head, hands beginning to tremble. 

“Y/n, I need to know who they are. You may not want to, but we need to tell Steve-”

Your hand ripped out of his hand in an instant. “No! No, Ste- His Majesty does not need to know. It does not concern him, therefore he does not need to know. Nor does Natasha. It does not concern them,” you cried out, eyes filling with tears. The sight nearly broke Bucky’s heart.

“Your safety is my number one concern.”

You gaped at him, and the one question you had been holding in finally spouted through. “Why do all of this for me, Bucky? I am merely a servant! I-I am not some princess or queen, just a noblewoman, the queen’s lady! The purpose of my position here is to serve my-”

“Not to me you’re not,” the knight retorted, taking a step back towards the mare and he reached for your waist and pulled you off the saddle and into the warmth of his arms. 

“Bucky!” you yelped, clutching onto his forearms.

But the knight did not listen to you, not as he picked you up and effortlessly carried you until the two of you were under the branches of the towering trees, your back pushed gently up against the base of the tree. 

His hold wasn’t caging or forceful. More careful and gentle. 

“You are so much more than just a lady to me,” Bucky said, exhaling heavily as his eyes bore into yours. “To me, you are everything. Ever since the first moment you stepped into the palace, all I wanted was you. You, woman, have captivated me. You have made me a better knight, a better captain, soldier… a better man.” His shoulders rose and fell, though you did not feel any fear. Not as his hand gently held your cheek. “You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart. I care about you more than I should, but I don’t care. I protect what I care about. And I will fight a king if it means you are away from harm.”

His heavy breaths fell from parted lips and you couldn’t help as your eyes flickered from his eyes down to his lips. Bucky leaned his forehead against yours.

“You are all I care about. Nothing else matters when I am with you.” he whispered before pressing his lips against yours, melting against you as he felt your lips press into his.

You had been kissed before, but never like this. Never as passionate as this.

Everything Bucky did was gentle. The way he held you, hugged you, kissed you. You would have expected his lips to be chapped and dry from being out in the cold weather, but they were soft against yours and he kissed you, you could not help but smile against his mouth.

You kissed the knight that had shown you nothing but kindness and a delicacy that no man had ever bestowed on you. 

Once you pulled away, shoulders heaving, lips swollen and flushed skin, Bucky pressed his forehead against yours, holding you close. You kept your hands firmly on his chest, sighing softly.

“You have no idea how long I have been waiting to do that,” Bucky breathed out and you couldn't help the giggle that passed through your lips. 

“I am glad you did,” you whispered against his cheek. Bucky pressed his lips into the skin of your cheek, trailing down to your jaw. 

He peppered kisses along your jaw, teasing your neck slightly before placing a kiss against your lips. It was short and sweet, the way he held your face could have made you melt where you stood.

“I need names, Y/n.” Bucky whispered against your lips. He pulled away and pulled you into his chest, arms circling around your waist. You wrapped yourself in his warmth, resting your head against his heartbeat. 

You looked up at the lights in the sky again, sighing softly. “Can I tell you tomorrow?”

Bucky pulled you away and pressed his lips against your forehead. “You can tell me tomorrow, honey. But for now, let’s go home.”

Home. It was now in the Northern Lands, you decided. After tonight, there wasn’t anywhere else you would want to be. You wouldn’t trade being in Bucky’s arms on the way home for anything in the world. 

The half of a year being in the north was far better than the eight years spent in the East. 

There, nobody was like Bucky, who offered to help you off a horse, ease the heavy cloak from your shoulders, and walk you to your chambers. 

You hadn’t loved anyone like you loved Bucky. 

He led you to the comfort of your bed, helping you out of your shoes and turning away respectively as you changed into the soft fabric of your nightgown. You sat down on your bed, looking at Bucky as he kneeled in front of you. 

You leaned down and kissed him, pleading eyes boring into his. 

“Can you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?” you asked shyly, swallowing nervously, but his warm hand held your cheek. 

“I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” 

It took a moment before you were both comfortably laying in bed, Bucky’s arms wrapped around you as your back pressed to his chest. He could feel the rigidness of your muscles, so he ran his hand over your stomach, holding you tighter to his chest.

Issues could be resolved tomorrow.

For tonight, you decided everything was okay, and you felt Bucky’s soft lips against your temple before sleep lured you in.

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Benjen gave Jon a careful, measuring look. “You don’t miss much, do you, Jon? We could use a man like you on the Wall.”

Jon swelled with pride. “Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I’m the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle.”

“Notable achievements.”

“Take me with you when you go back to the Wall,” Jon said in a sudden rush. “Father will give me leave to go if you ask him, I know he will.”

Uncle Benjen studied his face carefully. “The Wall is a hard place for a boy, Jon.”

“I am almost a man grown,” Jon protested. “I will turn fifteen on my next name day, and Maester Luwin says bastards grow up faster than other children.”

“That’s true enough,” Benjen said with a downward twist of his mouth. He took Jon’s cup from the table, filled it fresh from a nearby pitcher, and drank down a long swallow.

“Daeron Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne,” Jon said. The Young Dragon was one of his heroes.

“A conquest that lasted a summer,” his uncle pointed out. “Your Boy King lost ten thousand men taking the place, and another fifty trying to hold it. Someone should have told him that war isn’t a game.” He took another sip of wine. “Also,” he said, wiping his mouth, “Daeron Targaryen was only eighteen when he died. Or have you forgotten that part?”

“I forget nothing,” Jon boasted. The wine was making him bold. He tried to sit very straight, to make himself seem taller. “I want to serve in the Night’s Watch, Uncle.”

In fandom, we often talk about Jon’s antics in his first AGOT chapter - e.g., boasting about being the better swordsman than Robb, his admiration of Daeron I, his insistence that he is a man and not a boy - as evidence of his immaturity. And there’s nothing wrong with that interpretation at all - I for one think that it’s very valid - but I rarely ever see this exchange with Benjen put in its full context; more specificallyy, the full context of what’s happening this entire chapter (and honestly what’s being going on in Jon’s life up to that point).

Because there’s something so…depressing and tragic about a fourteen year old boy desperately trying to grow up faster than is necessary because once he is a man, then there must be a place for him in this world. Because this exchange with Benjen is not happening in a vacuum. It arises out of the situation where the delineation between Jon’s social status and that of his siblings has been made ever more clear: his siblings get to sit at the high table with the visiting royal family whereas Jon has to sit with the squires far away from familiar company. But more importantly, he is a Snow and his siblings are Starks. They have a place of belonging (afforded to them by their Stark name) whereas he does’t (because he’s a bastard).

So Jon has to nurse his wounds with the belief that despite his bastardy, there has to be something he can do to belong. And what can he do, except grow up and be a man? At…fourteen years old?

So even though Robb can sit among royalty, Jon can still hold a sword just as well (in fact better) and ride a horse. He can be great too, not because of his name but because of his ability; but I do have to quibble with Benson’s (seemingly) sarcastic response to Jon’s answers here. Are you even bothering to actually listen to what Jon is saying, Uncle Ben?

And I have to admit that it makes me quite angry that the notion of bastards growing up faster than trueborns is not at all challenged among the characters. Do bastards actually grow up faster, or are they forced to fend for themselves faster than trueborns naturally would, just like Jon is in this chapter? It certainly doesn’t help that Benjen agrees with he statement, despite literally contradicting it just some few minutes earlier (by saying that Jon is just a boy and thus too young to make any life decisions for himself - like joining the Watch).

And as I was pondering on this, I realized that Jon really has been getting contradictory “advice” all his life: he’s a bastard so he has to grow up faster and cut his childhood short so he can make use of himself, but he’s actually a boy so his abilities and desires to advance are only a boy’s delusions, but then he has to join the watch and be a man and do a man’s job (and make a man’s sacrifices as Luwin would put it 🙄), but then he’s still a boy at the end of it all.

Given all this emotional and mental whiplash, Jon is actually quite well adjusted. I couldn’t imagine having to be pulled into 1000 different directions because at the heart of it the question is: is he a man or is he a boy? And what can he do, boy or man that he is, because he’s still a bastard?

I think this chapter shows that no one really bothered to sit Jon down and tell him that it’s okay to be a child, and that he doesn’t have to age far beyond his years because there’ll be someone to look out for him.

Worse yet, this chapter shows a young boy desperate to find a place for himself in the world, because no one else bothered to do so.

[writingwenches]

OC Spotlight: The Ryvertribe

House Erenford of Haronfort

sigil — A golden heron, beaked and gammed black, standing with a silver fish in its beak, on pink house words — tbd 🏳️‍⚧️transrights🏳️‍⚧️ location — western most shored of The Bite, on the Kingsroad, neighboring lands to House Frey and The Twins, near The Neck current lord — Lord Forrest Erenford and Lady Violet of House Reed current heir — Robyn "Little Lord" Erenford (age 7); followed by Lord Erenford's brother Ser Chett Erenford themes — period typical murder and mayhem; I wanted to make gender queer characters, while still being period typical, they are working towards the only life they can imagine and doing what it takes to survive...and killing TERF coded wildling tribes in the process

Lord Ryver Erenford — Red Ryver

The poison drips through, and Ryver says daddy likey. served as squire to Lady Sabitha Frey during Dance of the Dragons, alongside Sabitha's youngest son Ser Oswalt Frey Ryver knew who they were for as long as he had memory, and he knew he had to work twice as hard as anyone else to achieve anything. Living at the epicenter where The North, The Vale and the Riverlands meet, there is a need for mighty warriors, so a mighty warrior he became. Red Ryver is his moniker, known for a wide for his sadistic ways of torment and torture to all those who he thinks deserve it. He decorates the Haronfort Keep with the bones of those he's killed, but it's super charming because he's doing it to live him best trans-life so everything he does is totally moral in the end, I've done the math. Ramsey Bolton wishes they were as horrific and terrible as the mighty Red Ryver and his warriors. I just really enjoyed the idea of transmen ripping the head off terf-coded mountain clans and vouging with their dismembers limbs. face inspo — Elliot Page playing Micheal Cera as a blood thirty warrior accidental blood magic — Ryver took the phrase "I will sow the fields with your blood!" a little too literally, and goes around burying the dismembers bits of his enemies in the fields, mainly because they have too much energy and nowhere to put it, but also as some sort of offering to the old gods. Because of this, the Erenford fields are relatively prosperous for the area and I have a fun lil idea that as Ryver ages, they experience an effect similar to taking testosterone because nature says "life finds a way bb"

Oswalt Frey — the ally

"I could live anywhere, but Ryver can't, so why would I want to be anywhere else?" Oswalt is the youngest boy of Lord and Lady Frey, born a few months apart from Ryver Erenford. Lady Erenford preferred to spend her time at The Twins, with Lady Sabitha Frey, so the children grew up together. Once old enough to venture on their own, Oswalt and Ryver spent most of their time at Haronfort with Lord Erenford. At a tourney in their youth, Oswalt won his only match when his leather pants accidentally split during competition, the ladies gasped, the crowd cheered, and his opponent instantly surrendered. It is the current noble gossip sweeping the realms about House Frey. Oswalt is rather embarrassed by the situation. face inspiration — I promise I picked his face after making him, but like obvs it had to be Barry Keoghan (in Banshees) because it obviously couldn't be Lenny Kravitz [tr*mp voice: 'uuuuuuuge]

ficlet snippet from a young mens tourney the TargTower boys participated in "secretly" lol

“Ahh, Lord and Lady Frey,” Ser Gwayne waved as they neared a familiar tent. Ser Criston held his head low, attempting to hide his face. Years ago, Forrest Frey had boldly asked for the hand of Rhaenyra Targaryen while Cole was stationed at her side. He remembered her laugh, and the look of disgust she shared with him when she met his eyes to mock the man who dared pledge her his loyalty. She had been a viper then, he only had to see it for himself to believe. 

“Lady Sabitha, you look dashing as ever. You look as if you are ready to fight for a Squireship yourself,” Gwayne laughed, as he kissed the top of the lady’s hand. 

“My future squire," she replied, allowing her hand to be kissed, “will need to best me if he ever hopes for a knighthood, Ser Gwayne, as you well know.” The woman sighed, as she took in the sight of the beautiful, blond, knight. In her youth she had wished for someone so beautiful to steal her away, but alas, that was long ago. “And you?” she asked, as her eyes regarded the equally handsome man in Ser Gwayne’s company, perhaps she was wrong for dreaming of a blond haired man when this type of man was also an option. 

“Ser Kale,” Gwayne replied, before Cole had a chance to blow his cover. “Sworn to the Lannisters, we are here with some of their house’s lads.” 

‘Ser Kale’ bowed politely to the Lady Sabitha and her Lord husband, who did not seem to recognize Cole at all from their former meeting. Nor did the Freys seem to remember that the Lannisters ranks were lush with daughters this generation, lacking greatly for young sons to continue their knightly traditions.

The adults minded the young boys, their silver hair shorn short, and hidden under caps, looking no different than any other noble blond boy in the realm. Aemond and Daeron were using a sword to drop a frog onto their older brother’s shoulder, which caused him to squeal and squirm. 

“Ahh,” Lord Frey said, “Splendid!” He finished his cup of wine and gestured to a servant for another. 

“And who have you brought to compete?” Cole asked, leaning into his new persona by playing with a Lannister accent, one of his eyes blinking more than the other. 

Lady Sabitha motioned towards the two young men in her charge. “My youngest, Oswalt, and his childhood companion, Ryver,” she said. One of the boys was using their sword as a makeshift cock, swinging it back and forth while the other searched their grassy field with great interest, flicking something crawling on his breaches. “Mum! There’s ants over here!” the boy shouted when he noticed he caught his mother’s eye. 

The adults waved. 

“Ryver what?” Gwayne asked.

“Just Ryver,” Lady Sabitha said, plainly. 

“Were we ever that young and stupid?” Ser Gwayne joked, as both Frey boys began to wildly itch inside their pants. 

“My wife assures me that I still am,” Lord Frey hiccuped into another glass. 

Lady Sabitha took Ser Gwayne’s arm and led him towards her tent. Cole was reluctant to join them, not wanting to let the young princes out of his sight. More afraid the princes would hurt themselves rather than meet with illish brutes. 

Robyn Erenford — Little Lord

At the age of 7 years old, he is current heir to Haronfort, as the first "true born" son of Lord and Lady Erenford. He follows Ryver like a shadow, and constantly wears an overly large silver helm. He is an impressive archer, and has killed way more people than you.

Ser Morgan Lodge — Lady Morgana Large

*bob the drag queen voice* suspiciously large woman The family Lodge owned a large and prosperous inn along the Kingsraod, going back countless generations. Do to their massive size, Lady became a knight, and was a good one. They met Ryver and everything changed, fighting for whatever he was trying to build. info: they/them, lumberjack/bearded man in a dress aesthetic

Lord Forrest Erenford

It was strange for a man to raise his children, and granted he didn't start until they were out of diapers, but Lady Violet had no real interest in mothering, and Forrest was surprised he liked it so much. He is mocked by surrounding Lords and men, until Ryver showed such an aptitude to killing. After Ryver took out a terrible and ancient Mountain Clan with less than 5 soldiers, it was hard to argue then...publicly.

Lady Violet Erenford of House Reed

Lady Erenford preferred to spend her time at The Twins, with Lady Sabitha Frey, so the children grew up together. Lady Sabitha was very supportive of Ryver's preference towards presenting as a man.

Ser Chett Erenford

A second born son, who has always dreamed above his station. He wants the Lordship of Hareonfort, as he believes Lord brother is doing a better job as a nursemaid to strange children. The young Erenford boy is the only thing standing in the way between Chett and being Forrest's heir. If that ever happens, for good measure Chett will make sure to hang Ryver, in case anyone gets the idea that Ryver could succeed his father.

Feast Keep — Their Valhalla

Briarwood Hall — Ryver has found an abandoned Keep, high atop the mountain peaks in The Vale. It once had a thriving foresting trade of its signature briarwood trees, a lightly red wood that smelled faintly of roses, and grows beautiful blood red flowers. In a suspiciously strange trade, Ryver gets enough coin to purchase the abandoned Briarwood Hall from House Arryn by Lady Cinda Lannister, not long before the death of King Visyers. Anyone is welcome in Feast Keep, as long as you pull your weight. Liberated woman from local slaughtered mountain clans make up much of the small settlements population. Everyone is trained in weaponry, and there is a well-oiled system guarding the Keep from any who would wish to do them harm.

a/n: as always! always open to hearing opinions, muses, and anything else~ Also, I always love hearing how our OCs fit in each other's universes, so any ideas coming from that I'd love to hear~

[thepavementsings-archive]

okay sorry top 5 piarles and/or yukierre and/or other bfs AUs

This is a fun one! I don’t even know if these are top 5 but top ones I think of these days

1) Yukierre Swim Team Au - roadtrip edition! Yuki and Pierre decide to roadtrip across the states to a spring break swim meet instead of flying. They stop in New Orléans on the way. Pierre googles the French Quarter the morning of and tells Yuki half fake facts the entire way there, and Yuki takes them to the Creole restaurant he’s been talking about for months. I almost wrote a getting lost singing karaoke part of this but thought it would be too cheesy - when I found out a few weeks ago they literally did that irl in Austria last year…. Pierre smiling at Yuki singing at the top of his lungs in the passenger seat, whole road ahead of them theirs, hoping it stretches as far as this journey is willing to take them :)

2) Yukierre Sport WAG Au. Inspired by the Miami football pictures. Yuki is still on F1, Pierre is a Red Bull sponsored player, and Yuki meets him doing  his summer training out at the Red Bull LA facilities. They ditch some boring sponsor party together, Pierre chasing behind Yuki after he just  says “There is much better places here than this. Im going now” and heel spins out of the party. Yuki takes him to a burger food truck, promises they wont tell their trainers. Hanging out all the time for the next month! Pierre eats Yuki out by his very expensive rental pool! Going to the beach together :) They DON’T talk about it when they have to go back for their seasons. But Pierre starts like... stupid instagram memes for Yuki to read when he wakes up. And Yuki doesn’t get half of them but he laughs back anyways... Feels these butterflies in his chest when Pierre heart reacts his messages. Kicks himself for being stupid about it, but he waits for them all the same 

3) Storm crisis intervention researcher Charles/storm chaser Pierre. I think I’ve talked about this on briefly before. my beloveds. They fell out of touch some after college. Pierre is currently in the Caribbean. Once he puts the cameras and the raincoats and the socks soaked through away for the evening, he pulls out one of the notebooks he still uses that he got during school. Pierre writes about every way he felt alive today in those dampened, water stained pages, until the adrenaline runs out and his fingers stop shaking. 

Meanwhile, when Charles hears about hurricanes about to touch down in the West Coast of the islands in his morning debrief, he opens the bottom drawer of his desk and switches on the radio walkie he has set to the emergency comms lines. pretends he’s not dreading hearing a familiar name. 

4) Engineer Pierre! Pierresteban. Pierre drops out of racing in their Formula Renault Series - a crash takes him out for too many rounds and he loses his sponsorships and that’s it really. Esteban hasn’t seen him for years - he used his mom’s LinkedIn to stalk his profile once but it just said he was at some university in Southern France, and it’s not like he can request to follow his Instagram now. Which is why it’s a surprise, when he gets to the factory his first day at Alpine, and Pierre is there. He’s as loud as Esteban remembers, laughter rising through the hallways before he even steps into data room. His eyes are sharp and clear when he shifts his gaze to Esteban’s frame taking up the doorway, and suddenly Esteban has never been so interested at tyre degradation graphics as he is right now. 

5) Yukierre Knight AU! Yuki is a squire for an old knight who is halfway to his deathbed, but insists on keeping his rank (and his squire). So Yuki spends most of his days accompanying him to various town activities and tending to his horse. He can't help but notice the knight in the stable next to him, that comes in every morning to tend to his horse. He works in silence, weaving the its mane in the same plait before the sun rises, and takes it out every evening, despite having a squire of his own. Yuki has heard the stories of him around the town: called to the King's guard his first year as a knight, and sent away to protect the kingdom in the North. The first squire the town has sent in years. He came back not 6 months later, with a fierce depth to his stare and a scar on his flank Yuki can only see when he lifts his hands to braid. 

[boneswept]

so! my google doc isn’t super neat or anything but i just wanted to talk a little bit about who domeric is for people that aren’t familiar with him. which is totally fair, as he’s only mentioned in (2) paragraphs in the entirety of asoiaf. domeric was roose bolton’s only trueborn son & he died literally the year prior to a game of thrones.

the only real information we were ever given about him was that he was an exceptional rider, he played the harp, he was a page for under his aunt & then a squire in the vale before returning home. he missed the companionship of the other boys he had grown up with. he sought out his brother against roose’s wishes because he ached for companionship. pretty soon afterwards, he died under mysterious circumstances. though the maester described his death as ‘ a sickness of the bowels ‘ there were many whispers that ramsay killed him with poison.

on this blog, domeric didn’t die upon falling sick. in fact, he survives & connects the dots & realizes he was poisoned. it takes him a few months of digging & gathering to find out that his brother had gotten his hands on some poison & had tried to kill him. domeric does not tell roose, as he feels it’s his right to get his revenge & roose will just kill the boy if he finds out. this leads to a very dangerous back & forth between he & ramsay where they basically constantly try to tear each other’s lives to shreds. after being poisoned, domeric suffers for seizures for the rest of his life. he also has difficulties with his blood pressure & is prone to passing out, which makes it difficult for him to pursue his passion for riding horses. On top of this, he also has complications with his kidneys, though he ignores the maester’s advice against drinking.

domeric really parades his trueborn status over ramsay during the first chunk of the war, serving under robb stark. though he’s not physically well enough to join the fighting, he does have a nearly unmatched tactical mind. he doesn’t care about the casualties, so long as they have enough men to fight the next day. this is something that drives he & robb to be at ends with one another. ramsay is left with free reign of the dreadfort at this time & he gains the support of a lot of their father’s men. though ramsay’s cruelty is unmatched & his erratic nature leads to some trouble, he proves himself to be a strong & sharp man. he inspires fear & respect in the boltons’ men, which is something domeric doesn’t have either of. he was raised almost entirely away from the north & again, is prone to seizures & fainting, which definitely makes him appear weak. 

he’s there at the red wedding & knows about the deception. i actually like to think that he’s the one that wields the knife that kills robb stark & takes part in mutilating his body. this is something he does with reluctance in reference to the books, as robb is literally a child. as for the show’s interpretation? he takes a little more joy in the process, as the situation at hand was a lot more avoidable. he pity’s innocence & cannot stand stupidity. 

what happens after that is up to plotting / what kind of interactions we might be seeking out. default, he’ll return to the dreadfort & find out about his brother’s reek. it scares him enough to want to run away & never look back, but he likely wont as he needs treatment / help with his physical ailments so he probably wouldnt without reason or support right away. however, after ramsay kills roose he runs for his fucking life because he’d father die by falling off of his horse than the fate that befell theon.

things that are important to think of for my characterization of this very niche character: domeric isn’t a kind man. he’s softer hearted, he has the ability for empathy... but he does have the ability to totally turn that off on a whim. he’s been molded into the kind of person who doesn’t care about the casualties, only about success. he’s not particularly intimidating, but he has an innate ability for cruelty... even if it’s a dryer, more contained sort than what can be seen in his brother. he usually keeps any kinder feelings at bay to serve himself & his father. 

[alovesongshewrote]

Almost A Thousand Years - Witch Hunt | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot:  You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years.  You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years.  And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain.  But somewhere in that time, things changed.  [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count:  4,463

Warnings: i swear some more and uh... i can’t really give a warning, it’s spoilers.  you’ll probably like it tho, i promise

A/N:  today’s a/n shout out goes to @furblrwurblr​ for drawing femboy hooters douxie and fucking cursing me

Taglist:  @furblrwurblr​ @rainningdoom​ @fluffydmonkey @blondie0458​ @sitherin-mxschief​ @jinxedleo​ @lawlesshedgehog @einahpetsyarcip​ @dolphincommander​

Back | Next​

“I told you the boy was bad news Master,” past you said with way too much pride in their voice for your liking.

“Oh, would you shut up?”

“So you’re me from the future, then?  Tell me, how do you end up travelling time with the likes of that git?”

“Oi, shut your mouth you little-” Douxie put his hand over your mouth, effectively shutting you up for the time being.

“Calm down (Y/N), please,”

Both you and your past self said “No,” in unison.  It would have been funny in literally any other situation, but alas, this was what fate handed to you.

“All of you, silence!  Have you any idea what you’ve done?  I knew my apprentice was an ignoramus, but travelling through time?  Time!”

You felt a very strong urge to scream, but fortunately, Douxie was doing the talking.

“I think we handled ourselves just fine, all things considered.  And technically, it was your idea,”

“Damn right,”

“Well, then, you must have botched it up!  My planning is flawless!”

“For the record, Master, I had nothing to do with this.  He did, which is me, and… ugh!  Time travel, so confusing!”  past Douxie was awake, and you decided right then if anyone said anything else you were going to knock him, your past self, and Merlin unconscious just for some peace and quiet.

“Aah!  The timelines are in complete disarray!”

Oop, that counted as saying something, “They’re about to be in more disarray,” 

“Seriously, (Y/N), calm down,”

“Don’t you talk to me… us?  Like that!”  past you was a little confused, but they still had the spirit.  It was the wrong kind of spirit, but spirit nonetheless.  You sighed, knowing that Douxie was right.

“No, (Y/N)?  Me?  Whatever.  He’s right, I just need a second,”

Past you froze in absolute shock while Douxie's past self decided to relish in the fact that you were wrong.

Present Douxie didn’t have a lot of patience for this, “Look, both of you, quiet down for a second.  Master, I can fix this, I swear!”

“Ah-ah, your meddling has already wreaked enough havoc on history!”

“Then surely we can use the time map to change things back, and then it’ll all be as it was,”  Archie said as you, your Douxie and the familiar surrounded Merlin, your focus on the time map in your former master's hands.

“It doesn’t work that way.  The map only offers glimpses of possible futures!  There are no detailed instructions,”

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,”  Douxie said, reaching towards the device before Merlin slapped his apprentice’s hand away causing both of your hands to sting.

“Ow.  Look, life doesn't come with instructions, and we live through it every day without causing too much damage.  We can manage this!  It’ll be fine,”

“Not that bad, eh?  It’ll be fine, eh!?”  Merlin said before revealing just what the time map had to show you.  

King Arthur was on the ground, dead.  Needless to say, that was not good.

“Oh, fuzzbuckets,”  Both Douxies and your past self said.

“Oopsie,” you grimaced at the consequences of your actions. 

“Your little dungeon break must have changed fate!  Now, unless I stop it, the king will die!”

Merlin stormed out of the room, off, probably, to fix your mistakes.  Beside you, your Douxie groaned, bracing himself against the table.  You put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

“Seriously, how can you stand to touch him?”

It was your turn to groan.  You didn’t even look at your past self as you responded, “Because he is my friend and I care about him,”

It may have been a risky statement, one that could doom both you and your wizard, but the smile on Douxie’s face was worth it.

“I don’t understand, how can you-”  

Douxie cut off his past self, “You’ll understand when you’re older.  Now, you two stay here, we have to go,”  he grabbed your hand, and you left to find Claire or anything else that would help save the future.  Whichever came first.

It was Claire.  Claire came first.  You could hear the knights cheering from your place in the shadows.  The noise was a decent cover-up for your conversation.

“They’re hunting Jim!  If they catch him, he’ll be killed!”

“I know, and he’s not the only one.  Because of us, Arthur’s now fated to eat the big one, too!”

“Eat the what?  Oh, no, was I supposed to bring food?”

“He’ll be eating a death sandwich, Steve,”

“Ugh, who would eat that?  Gross,”

Douxie groaned, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little.  Times were tough, but that didn’t stop you from admitting that Steve absolutely had a point.

“Look, if Arthur dies, we lose the Battle of Killahead and the war,”

“Which will probably mess up time so much, you’ll never be able to return home,”  Archie said, pawing his way around your hiding space.

“At least, not our home,”  you glared at the ground, as if the dirt was the reason the world was at stake.

“Oh no!  Toby!”

You looked up at the time map just in time to see the War Hammer disappear into a blue mist.  That could not be a good sign.

“What’s happening to him?”

“The future- our future, is vanishing!”

“There’s gotta be a way to fix this,” you said, using the time map, searching through time to find something that would save your home.  Among the red, there was a moment of blue.  You paused as an image of Arthur and Morgana getting along flashed into the sphere.

“What’s that?”  Claire asked before you had the chance to ask the same thing.

“Well, that wasn’t there before.  It’s a new timeline, one where Arthur and Jim live,”

“And Morgana’s the hero?  I thought she was destined to become Mistress Doom,”

“No, you’re thinking Mistress of all Dark Magic.  Mistress of Doom is… something else,”

“What?”  Douxie paused, looking at you with vast amounts of suspicion.  

“You’d be surprised by some of the house calls I’ve made.  Now, keep talking,”

Douxie shook his head, but he was smiling.  Good.  You loved that smile.

“It looks like there’s a possibility if we get Arthur and Morgana to reconcile, then somehow, nobody dies,”

“I don’t think I have to say that that’s the outcome we want!”

You took a moment just to look at Douxie’s face.  In this small moment of victory, which was over too soon, he looked happier than you’d seen him in a while.  Of course, you never saw his face when he looked at you.

“Squire Steve!  We are all thirsty!”  and bam, moment over.  Thanks, Gallahad.

“I’ll keep an eye on Morgana.  Douxie, you work on Arthur.  (Y/N), Steve, make sure they don’t kill my boyfriend,”

“We’re on it.  Don’t die out there, guys,”

“We won’t,” Douxie said, taking one last look at you before he ran off.  You and Steve did the same.

About a minute in, you could feel things going wrong.  Your chest hurt as if you’d crashed to the floor.  It wasn’t awful, so you ignored it and kept moving forward, following Steve and the knights and making a mental note to make sure Douxie was ok when you had time.  A smirk made its way onto your face when said wizard knocked his past self out.  You couldn’t imagine that it was good for him, but if he could still perform magic, he was ok.  

And after that, things were okay.

At least for you.

Douxie was having a difficult time getting Arthur to listen to him.  Magic, as always, turned out to be a useful tool.  The king and his sister began their reconciliation, but something was troubling him.  He saw the way they looked at the illusion of Gweneviere.  They had both loved her.  Arthur even called Gwen “the heart of him,” and they had lost her.  He could see the grief on their faces, how it killed the king and weighed down the sorceress was clear to anyone who looked at them the right way.

This was not the first time Douxie contemplated his fear of losing you.  He’d been afraid of that for a long time, and one could say that he was used to the familiar sense of anxiety that made itself at home within him whenever you were in danger.  But now?  Now he looked at the faces of the royal family and realized that losing you would completely destroy him.  

Douxie was already a selfless person, one who would sacrifice everything he was to save the world, but right then, he decided that he would sacrifice the world to save you.  You were the world to him.  

But he couldn’t focus on that right now.  He had a job to do.

So did you.  And Steve was not making it any easier.

“Kill the beast!”

“Wait, kill?  I thought this was catch and release!”

“Oh, my g- ok, come on, Steve,”

You grabbed the boy by his armour and dragged him along as you followed the group, stopping dead when you reached the troll that the guards spoke of.

Arthur’s men had slung chains around the creature, restricting its movement to next to nothing.  You were not okay with this.

“Squire Steve, will you do the honours?”  Lancelot asked, tossing his sword to the boy.  

The boy whimpered, very obviously uncomfortable with this.  He turned to you, eyes desperately searching for instructions on what to do in this situation.  You shook your head, trying to get across that needless murder should probably be avoided.

Whether or not Steve got the message, you would never know.  The troll jumped at the teen.  You jumped in front of him, creating a shield with your magic, and Arthur jumped in front of you, swinging a sword at the troll and putting himself in some pretty needless danger.  You couldn’t talk on that subject though.  When it came to needless danger, you were freaking royalty.

“Careful, young squire, witch,” he spat out your title like it was a curse, “Show these beasts no sympathy,”

He kicked the troll into the sunlight, turning it to stone instantly.  You looked on with disappointment as the guards cheered.

Behind you, Steve whimpered again.  You turned, hoping to provide some comfort, or calm the kid down at least, when you froze, your blood running cold.  Behind Steve stood Bular, aka the Troll who kept trying to kill you.

“Shit,”

The Gumm-Gumm prince knocked Steve aside, advancing and attacking the guards.  He hadn't noticed you yet, and you intended to keep it that way, staying out of the troll's field of view, and going after Steve instead.  You helped the boy up and off the ground.  He wasn't injured, but you realized that the king was about to be.  

Before you could do anything, Douxie and Merlin had things under control, saving Arthur and taking out the troll prince.  You breathed a sigh of relief.  If things went well, Bular wouldn’t see you.  Very few things ever went well, but you had your fingers crossed.

And it worked!  For once, things went your way.  Arthur knocked the Gumm-Gumm out with a kick to the face.  Sure, he said some very menacing and antagonistic things right after, but you had no thoughts in your head other than, “Well, that was convenient,”

You watched the guards take Bular away, taking note of Morgana questioning who the real monster was.  If Bular hadn’t tried to kill you and your friends and hadn’t successfully gotten you tortured a couple decades ago, you might have agreed with that.  Unfortunately, he had.

You hadn’t realized that you’d lost yourself in memories until Douxie said your name.

“-(Y/N), are you alright, love?”

“I-” you watched them take the troll out of sight, “I will be,”

Your wizard took one of your hands, squeezing it, “I’m right here if you need me,”

“I know,”

It was silent for a moment.  Then you heard the knights calling Steve.

“I should go,”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,”

“But I should.  Someone needs to make sure that kid doesn’t run into any more high ranking Gumm-Gumms,”

Douxie seemed hesitant, but he respected your choice, “Stay safe,”

“You too,”

From the corner of her eye, Morgana watched you and Douxie.  She wasn’t focused on it, per-say, but she did find it odd.  Were Merlin’s apprentices not constantly at each other’s throats?  She ignored it for now and moved on.

Things went decently for you after that.  The forest was peaceful, the knights were quiet.  Everything was chill until Steve decided to walk through a trap.  You weren’t sure why he didn’t just stop.  Kids these days, honestly.  

You winced as the arrows hit his armour and his skin.  Beside you, Gallahad and Lancelot were absolutely losing their shit.  You had to admit, it was kind of funny, but you were also concerned for your friend.  You put up a shield around him, sheltering the teen from any further arrow-related damage.  Needless to say, the knights were very disappointed.

“Oh, come on, now!  Don’t spoil all the fun,”

“It was fun for the first minute.  Now I’m concerned for his health,”

“Really?  Merlin’s witch apprentice showing concern?  Well then, we’ve found something rarer than the holy grail!”

You took a moment, keeping up your shields as the king and his guards moved through the trap, Lancelot and Gallahad now supporting Steve.

It was weird to see how much you’d changed.  Talking to your past self had been surreal, and a decent reminder of what a little shit you had been, but you hadn’t considered the specifics.  Past you was a scared kid doing what their king told them to.  Under Gunmar, you didn’t have any interests or hobbies outside of getting stronger and staying alive.  Even after you left, you really didn’t start to become who you were now for a few centuries.  You'd been scared that the Gumm-Gumms would come for you at any moment, and that fear wouldn't leave you until at least the fifteen hundreds.  You suddenly felt enormous amounts of guilt weighing on your shoulders.  Guilt about what you’d forced your past self to go through, that you never got a childhood worth having, that you hadn’t been a person for so long that it took centuries to take a real interest in something.  And you felt guilty about how you’d treated other living things.  You knew now that everyone who could be saved deserved saving, but the child you were in the twelfth century didn’t know that.  

But you couldn’t fix the past, even though you were now reliving it.  The only thing you could do was forgive yourself.

And so you did.

Then you ran after the knights to see if Steve was okay.

He was.  Teenagers are surprisingly resilient, that’s how they can do dumb things and not die.  You counted Steve coming out of that trap mostly unscathed as a win.  What wasn’t a win was Lancelot spotting Jim and Callista, looking at what appeared to be Jim’s phone.

You had no idea if that would affect the space-time continuum, but what would affect you personally was your friends getting shot.  And Lancelot was aiming a crossbow at them.  Great.

Beside you, you could hear Steve’s internal panic.  This time he didn’t turn to you, instead, he chose to act, smacking the crossbow out of the knight’s hands.  The arrow still fired, but there was still time.  You put a spell on the arrow, knocking it off course a little more and lessening the impact.  However, there was still an impact.  You could hear as much from the trolls below you.

Lancelot lined up another shot, but Steve knocked the weapon aside again, and you used your magic to push the crossbow out of reach.  It didn’t do much, but it bought your friends some much needed time.  The knight thrust the crossbow at Steve, clearly frustrated.

“What if we just let this one go?”  Steve’s efforts were admirable, you’d give him that much

“You never let them go,”

Lancelot turned away from you to face the king, who was rallying his soldiers.

You put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Hey, you did a good thing, kid,”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Steve’s voice shook slightly, and you felt awful.  If you had time, you probably would have hugged him, told him everything was going to be okay, and maybe adopted him, but right now, you had to find some way to protect Jim.

The knights ran off, leaving you and Steve watching them go.  

Douxie and Merlin came out of the bushes, clearly in pursuit of the king.  They called out to him before running off again.

“C’mon Steve, we have to follow them,”

The boy, who was still shaken, nodded, following behind you as you ran after everyone else.  

Things were not going well.  Morgana and Arthur were fighting, knights were surrounding the area, and Lancelot was firing arrows at children.

Claire was skilled enough to fend for herself, scaring Lancelot, but before the knight could say anything that everyone would regret, Steve knocked him out with a large rock.  You were a bit surprised, but also very pleased.

“Whoa, man, that troll- that came out of nowhere!  Right guys?”

Lancelot woke, only for Steve to hit him again.  You were very proud.

“Nice one, Steve!”

“Thanks!  Uh, can you do your doctor thing?  Make sure I didn’t kill him?”

You kind of doubted that Lancelot had been killed by the rock, but head trauma exists in every century, so you nodded and began your assessment.  You managed to focus up and do your work, ignoring the clanging metallic noise of the battle before you.  Then the pain hit you.  It was like you’d been thrown back into a tree, but that hadn’t happened, so what was- Douxie!

You rushed your assessment, focused on the ache in your spine, “He isn’t dead, Steve, you’re in the clear,”

The teenager punched the air, saying something that you weren’t paying attention to.

“Sorry, kid, I’ll be right back,”

That was kind of a lie.  You weren’t sure when you’d be back.

You made your way to Douxie’s side, helping him up as Morgana sent a beam of gold magic into the sky, before bringing it down on the earth like a whip.  Your wizard pulled you close to him, trying to shield you from the magic.  Had she been paying attention, Morgana would have declared this officially strange, but at the moment she was fighting her brother and former mentor.

You, Claire and Douxie thought it would be a good idea to try and reason with the angry sorceress.

“Stop!  We found another way!”

“It doesn’t have to be like this!”

“We can do this peacefully!”

“The time for peace ended long ago,”

“Morgana,” Claire called out, “He’s not the enemy,”

Morgana continued to rant, but you were a little distracted by the fact that she was now flying.  It wasn’t the best choice either of you had made, but you and Douxie got closer, just in time for the sorceress to cast a spell, creating shadow-like clones of herself.

“Oh, buckets,”  Douxie said as shadow-clones appeared before all of you.

“Yeah, that,”  you drew your sword.  There wasn’t much left to do but fight.

Unfortunately, you were in the minority when it came to having a weapon.  You watched as your friends struggled and dodged, eventually backing away, but wherever they went the shadows followed (as shadows are wont to do.)

Your small group found their way to a cliff, overlooking the ocean.  You recognized this place, but you weren’t sure how.

You could hear Merlin call for someone to protect the king, but you were a little busy fighting for your life at that moment.  

Somehow, you found an opening and sliced through the clone.  You only enjoyed your victory for a moment before Douxie was thrown to the ground, causing you both to wince from the pain.  You were about to make your way over to him when Arthur pointed his sword towards the sky, drawing a spell into the blade and releasing it into the ground, knocking everyone back and banishing the shadow-clones.

Douxie helped you up before you both ran to get the time map.  The sphere flickered from red to blue.  You looked out into the sunset and suddenly realized where you recognized this place from.

Morgana’s name left your lips and Douxie’s at the same time.  The time map’s sphere showed the sorceress’s body.

You and your wizard ran towards the duelling siblings in a last attempt to stop them, but you were once again blown back.  

You screamed as Morgana fell off the cliff for the second time in your life.

You couldn’t remember walking back to the castle. 

You knew you must’ve done it because you would remember being carried back, but you didn’t know how you got from the cliff to Camelot.

And now Claire was talking, “She’s gone.  We failed,”  as if you needed reminding.

“No,” Douxie’s voice came from beside you, “I failed.  Master, I-I’m so sorry,”

“This is why you don’t meddle with time,”

You didn’t even sass Merlin about how this was his idea.  You were out of sass at the moment.  Your head was full of static as you tried to process things.

“But I tried, I tried to fix it,” Douxie fell to his knees, his eyes on the still flickering time map.

Correction, your brain was full of static and heartbreak.  You knelt beside your wizard, putting your hands on his shoulders as he focused on the time map.

“Don’t you see, boy?  There is no ‘fixing’ anything,  Every change has consequence.  Knowing the future is a responsibility to bear with caution, lest you cause the worst things to happen,”

You couldn’t look Merlin in the eye.  Even as he walked away, you didn’t watch him go.

“Morgana’s dead, Excalibur's broken.  This never happened,”

“We are in uncharted territory,” Archie said, coming closer to you and Douxie, allowing the wizard to pat him.

The pain in your chest was his.  The utter anguish he felt over failing to fix things stabbed through you.  And it wasn’t just that.  He had failed Claire, and Steve, and Jim.  He had failed Merlin, and Toby and Camelot.  But the worst thing was he had failed you.  He had destroyed your future, and now you were stuck here.  The very thought of it ripped through him, and you felt all of it.

You bit your lip, just then realizing what that day was.

As if he realized what was to come, Archie took a few steps back, wandering away from the two of you.

“Hey, Doux,” he turned to look at you, the sorrow in his eyes eating you alive, “This was the night.  In our timeline, anyway,”

“What?”

“Where was that fight again?  Merlin’s study?  The staircase?  The throne room?”

“(Y/N)?”

“If we wait outside, do you think we’ll see it happen?”

The pieces fell into place for him, too.

“I don’t even know if it will,”

You waited a moment.

“Who knows.  We hated each other enough, we might still get cursed,”  The joking tone in your voice made you both smile, even though it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Seriously, though, Douxie.  I think whatever bond Merlin gave us, I-” you took a deep breath, knowing that what you said next would definitely damn you both.  But that didn’t matter.  He needed to hear this.

“I think it was the best thing that ever happened to me.  You are the best thing that ever happened to me,”

Douxie looked surprised, only for a second, before his eyes cast their gaze to the ground, to the time map that sat closed on the floor.  “Are you sure?”

His voice was so quiet you barely heard him, and it was so sad, so scared, that you could feel your heart shatter into a million pieces right then and there, “Yeah,” your voice felt like it would break at any minute, “Yeah, I’m sure,”

Your predictions were correct.  Your voice broke and tears came to your eyes, much to your embarrassment.

“(Y/N),” Douxie turned his body towards yours, taking your face in his hands, “You-” he took a second, also feeling that his voice would fail him at any minute, “You mean everything to me, and I-I ruined your future.  We don’t have a home to go back to, and it’s my fault, I-”

“Douxie,” you cut him off, “As long as I’m with you, I’m home.  If we have to, we’ll just build a new future, together,” you ran a hand through his hair.  This was it.  This is what was going to kill you, “I love you, Hisirdoux Casperan,”

There was silence.

And then his lips were on yours.

Do you remember the kiss in the 80s?  Yeah, that was child’s play compared to this.

Your lips fit together perfectly,  his hands glided over your back, pulling you closer to him.  Your hands held his face, swiping away at the tears that threatened to fall.  You found your bottom lip captured between his.  A gasp escaped you when he bit down.  It wasn’t enough to draw blood, but it was enough for your heart to race a little faster, if that was even possible, and tighten your grip just a little.  You could almost feel his pulse racing, and you were absolutely certain he could feel yours.  Your last kiss had been everything in your past, but this kiss was your future.  It was a promise that no matter what came next, you would face it together.

And then you remembered exactly what it was that your future held.

T'was a mood killer.

You broke the kiss, almost unwillingly and definitely wanting more, but Douxie had been right.  He should know what, “I don’t want to kill you anymore,” meant.

Also, there was a loud crash and bright lights from one of the towers, and that was pretty distracting.

“Those damn kids.  Did we really fight so much?”

That almost got a laugh from you, but you had something else to focus on right now.  You rested your forehead against his for a moment, just breathing for a second before your spoke, your voice low, “Douxie, I have to explain some stuff,”

“What is it, darling?”

“You were right, there’s some stuff you should know.  Doux, I think now is later,”

You bit your lip before standing and motioning for him to follow you into the castle, “Let’s go,”

[buffaloborgine]

A research on character building, character symbolism of Genesis Rhapsodos (Part 3)

Note: This part is heavily interpreted by my own perspective through linking many different writings throughout the whole Compilation of FFVII (including some details taken from Remake). Take this as a grain of salt and proceed with a clear mind.

______________________________________________________________

“Soul wrought of terra corrupt, Quelling Impurity, Purging the stream To beckon forth the ultimate fate Behold mighty Chaos, Omega's squire to the lofty heavens.”  (Omega Report #1 - FFVII Dirge of Cerberus)

“My soul, corrupted by vengeance Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey In my own salvation And your eternal slumber” (LOVELESS Act IV - FFVII Crisis Core)

“ My fleeting memories will fall into darkness Your last smile comes into my mind, and disappears Leaving behind only warmth Right now, I can't be cured by only gentle words

I'm just going to give my everything To this battle that continues on endlessly Some day, everyone will return to the universe And no one needs to say goodbyes” (Redemption - GACKT)

If you suddenly feel like those three verses of poems/song have something in common, then congrats, you have finally found the key detail that I want to talk in this part of the theory series. 

What if I tell you that, Genesis was, for long, designed to be the rightful bearer, of Chaos, and that by the end of DoC, he has achieved the inheritance that should have been given to him at birth? 

To begin with, let’s look at what we know about Chaos in FFVII:

- Shelke called Chaos as “Herald of Anarchy”. “Anarchy” is a state of disorder due to absence or nonrecognition of authority, therefore, Chaos is the entity that, once awakened, will signal a disorder, or a “crisis”, that will result in the absence of authority. Assuming so, does this detail fit Vincent? No. He has been injected with the stagnant mako since Circa [ μ ] - εγλ 1984 (according to the Ultimania) which is like, 16 years before the event of Crisis Core happened. So, probably that Vincent has an awakened Chaos in him, and he went to sleep. Veld went to wake him up once in Before Crisis (December [ ν ] - εγλ 0006), then Cloud & Co came to pull him out of the coffin to fight Sephiroth (somewhere between  [ ν ] - εγλ 0007 and  [ ν ] - εγλ 0008), and yet, we see no marking events of “anarchy” caused by Vincent. 

- Chaos is represented by a mixture of red and black, and his essence has the magenta color (as seen falling down from the sky after Vincent’s suicidal dive into Omega). Vincent’s original color theme is black, as he worked as a Turk before Hojo shot him, even so, without being injected with the stagnant mako, Vincent will still not get that red color theme. So far, there are several characters in FFVII that has red-black or magenta color theme, the first one known is Vincent, the second is the Zirconiade, the third one is Nero the Sable (his eyes are magenta) and the last one is Genesis Rhapsodos. 

- Chaos function as the “purger of impurity” by burning the whole planet down so every souls would return to the Lifestream while filtering all the “impurity” from it, therefore triggering the departing of Omega, who takes the pure Lifestream with it, leaving Chaos behind on the lifeless planet. That surely doesn’t fit well into Vincent (no matter how hard you squint) because Vincent has no intention to burn the whole planet down or acting as the signal for Omega’s awakening. Besides, the only character we see going around to absorb “impure souls” is Nero the Sable, although Vincent’s Chaos can collect “impure souls” to increase in power, Vincent doesn’t deliberately do that.

- Chaos is created from the bad emotions and sins that was filtered out of the Lifestream, that’s why the Cetra depicted it as “Soul wrought in terra corrupt”. 

- By the end of DoC, Vincent told Lucrecia that “Chaos and Omega have returned to the planet”. That means Vincent no longer has the power of the Chaos insides him.

With all the details above, we can come to the conclusion that Vincent only bear a part of Chaos’ power insides him, he has never been the true Chaos. After he used Chaos’ power to destroy Omega, all those pieces of Chaos inside him returned to the planet. 

Which will lead us to the main problem of this talking part: if Vincent is not the real Chaos (or at least not the fully powered Chaos) since the beginning, then who is?

We will need to look for a character that has all the traits listed above: triggered events that lead to anarchy + has black/red or magenta color theme (or both) + intended to “purge all impurities” from the Lifestream by burning down the planet + harboring a huge amount of negative emotions/sins. Minus Vincent on the trait of “black/red or magenta color theme”, we would have the Zirconiade, Nero and Genesis as possible candidates.

So let’s move on with the third trait: “intended to “purge all impurities” from the Lifestream by burning down the planet”:

- Nero’s only intention is to be with his brother Weiss and he doesn’t care about the destruction of the planet or whatsoever, as long as he could be with Weiss, he will do anything. However, we do see Nero absorbing the “impure souls” into his darkness, yet, he then fused into Weiss’s body, making Omega’s body tainted with the “impurities”. So Nero obviously is disqualified. 

- The Zirconiade is a summon that can and will burn down the whole planet once fully empowered with the four materias (red, blue, green and yellow materias). Then we can give the Zirconiade a yes for this. 

- Genesis after starting to degrade, decided that if he can’t find the Jenova cells to cure the degradation, he will accept his fate, but he will take the world down with him. Before he activates the giant materia in the Banora’s Underground, he said to Zack “We will all join the Lifestream, you are no exception” (sounds so familiar, right?). Then in his boss form, Genesis Avatar, his main target is to destroy the planet’s core by stabbing the giant sword down at it (because there is no reason for Genesis Avatar to do that if he just wants to slice Zack into shreds). Genesis Avatar also can use the ability known as “Purgatorial Wave”, which, I have explained in the last part, is a “wave to purify souls that are still impure”. Therefore, Genesis gets a yes for this trait. 

We then move on to the first trait: “triggered events that lead to anarchy”: 

- No matter how you look at it, Nero can’t be the one that trigger the mess in Dirge of Cerberus. So he got a no. 

- In Before Crisis, the Zirconiade is not the one that created the mess, because it’s a summon, and it was contained in a materia. The materia then was implanted into Elfie’s hand by Hojo and later with this knowledge, Fuhito planned to use Elfie to summon the Zirconiade. Therefore, the Zirconiade itself doesn’t trigger any events that lead to anarchy, so it gets a no for this. 

- Genesis is the reason that everything went on a trainwreck in Crisis Core. And if we agree on my theory that he is also the one that caused another trainwreck in Dirge of Cerberus then well, of course he got a yes for this trait. 

Finally we will work on the last trait “harboring a huge amount of negative emotions/sins”:

- Nero is surely harboring a ton of negative emotion, along with deep hatred towards humanity. He also carries the sin of murdering lots of people, although aside from that he got nothing else. I will give him a yes for this trait. 

- The Zirconiade, being a summon, can’t be seen as harboring negative emotion or carrying sins, because it works upon being summoned and will only exert its power out. I will give it a no. 

- Genesis, well, he was deemed as the traitor by Shinra, he also killed his parents, that’s more than enough sins already. And vengeance is the main source of his negative emotion, so much to the point that he gets blinded trying to avenge himself. So he gets a yes.

With all of the deduction above, we can conclude that Genesis fits very well with being the real embodiment of Chaos that the planet called up. Other details that imply Genesis similarity to Chaos is that Chaos Vincent has yellow eyes, Genesis's eyes during his transformation into Genesis Avatar also glow yellow. The event in FFRK "Ode to a Sundered World" literally implies that Genesis brings about the "Sundering" of the world, which fits with the depiction of Chaos - the entity that fills the gap in the sundering of heaven and earth. Genesis Avatar is a weird name if you think of it, because Avatar is the manifestation of a divine being, and yet that form is already huge and monstrous, which means whatever Genesis really is, must be even greater than Genesis Avatar. The face of Vincent's Chaos has cracks on it, and Genesis Avatar'a face has lots of crack that it needs to wear binding to keep its face together.

But then you will find it weird for him to be the real embodiment of Chaos if well, Zack can just “Costly Punch” him to death, right? 

I will take the timeline into account, we can see that by the time Genesis really gets awakened is after his fateful fight with Sephiroth in the training room, at that point Vincent has taken a part of Chaos into him, and Nero takes another part. So with the power being divided into three parts, even being the true embodiment of Chaos, Genesis cannot reach his ultimate level of power. Taking the degradation caused by the Jenova cells in him, he surely gets weakened to the point that Zack can 2-hit punch him out cold. 

Then at the end of DoC, with Vincent’s Chaos particles returned to the planet and Nero’s darkness appearing below Genesis’s boots while he walks on the water surface, it sure means that Genesis has fully acquired the power of Chaos. 

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. In the next part I will continue on with the problem laid out by this part. 

[sdwolfpup]

I waited until the @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange Festive Festival was mostly done before talking about the fics that I was gifted this year, since I know everyone was deluged with wonderful stories, and the ones I was gifted were all excellent and I hope hope hope you make time for each of them. These are the fics I was @’d on in one form or another.

First up is the fic that my assigned writer, @naomignome wrote for me, A Winter Wish. Naomi is one of the funniest people I’ve ever met, but she also has an unbelievable knack for description even in comments, and such a good sense of tenderness and emotion and she brought all of that to her fic for me. In this, she takes one of my new favorite headcanons -- that Jaime and Brienne’s moms were friends! -- and transposes them to modern Westeros, where J & B meet as children during a tradition around the first snowfall. What’s especially brilliant about this is that she also keeps the years-long seasons, so the five (plus one) times they meet to do this spans a huge portion of their lives. There is humor and sorrow and flirting and sexiness and love underneath all of it. I was so happy when I saw she was my writer and this fic was fantastic. 

They trudged in good humor to the closest park to the university, the air chilly and cold with the promise of snow. Brienne’s laughs came out in puffs of white, and Jaime yearned to jar the sound and keep it in his pockets for when he felt cold.

When the powdered snow began to drift down around them, he watched her smile openly into the sky, in a way that she only ever did at him and at first snow. He watched some lucky snowflakes catch on the soft tendrils of her pale eyelashes, and kiss the flush of her cheeks.  The warmth wrapped around his heart, much like the mitten she had knit him wrapped around the stub of his hand.

For my stocking stuffers, I’ll go in order received. @potatothecat wrote me campfire stars in the distance. This is a lovely little modern AU vignette of Jaime and Brienne and all of their friends sharing a night around the campfire under the stars. It’s so quiet I can almost hear the crackle of the fire, and I can definitely hear Jaime’s very loud love for Brienne, even if their friends aren’t sure if it’s real between them or not. But they know it is, and that lovely bond between them comes through strongly.

They’ve done this a hundred times by now—on the couches in both their apartments, sitting on the floor across from Addam and Dany when the four of them meet up for game night, in restaurant booths, and now by the fireside—but it’s no less delightful for the familiarity of it. He’d spend his entire life pressed up against Brienne’s side if he could, staring into the dancing flames and laughing along with the rest of their friends as Sansa reenacts a prank she played on her siblings.

Then @eryiscrye wrote me Caught Gold Handed, which is a canon AU set after the Long Night, where Jaime and Brienne get in a snowball fight with the squires and orphans of Winterfell. That summary ALONE should sell you on this, if it being Eryi isn’t enough on its own. What’s marvelous about this is it’s a rare chance to see the canon characters having fun together, and the ways their love for each other comes through even in something as simple as Brienne helping Jaime make snowballs. No one can take this happily married version of JB from me, I will fight you.

She flushed, all blotchy and red. “We already slept in this morning.”

“We hardly slept. And that was this morning,” he replied as he happily pressed up by her side.

She glanced over at him, still shy, but also so bold, his darling lady wife. “We’ll go to bed early tonight.”

Jaime chuckled, “And yet sleep late.”

Brienne bit her bottom lip, “I suppose that is how all our days will go now.”

He beamed at her happily.

@kurikaesu-haru wrote Merry & Bright for a group of us and it is a delightful modern AU that tackles a bunch of tropes - fake dating! only one bed! Christmas activities! - in a fun, funny, and sweet package. The banter in this is wonderful and there are some tender little moments tucked in between the laughs (Arthur Dayne cutout!!) that are lovely to stumble on.

He rests his head against her shoulder, so his stubble scratches her skin, and he’s whispering in her ear. “And I’m glad you tricked me into standing under the mistletoe with you. Who else would I want to kiss as much as you?”

Brienne realizes, suddenly, that a lot of the things Jaime says to her mean,  I love you.

@wildlingoftarth wrote a group gift fic as well, I want a house with a crowded table, which is a canon-based future established relationship fic that feels like coming home to family and sitting by the fire. It’s years and years later and Jaime and Brienne live happily in a cottage on Tarth and they’re welcoming their children and grandchildren for a feast. The weight of all their history and love is palpable. This is everything I want for them, and whatever canon may or may not says happens, this is where I believe they end up.

It is a life she never dared to hope for, never dreamed of in her days of fighting for this king or that, being sent on a series of seemingly impossible errands she accomplished through sheer force of will, and falling desperately and irrevocably in love along the way. That the man she’d fallen for had somehow developed the same feelings for her still fills her with astonishment at times, even after all these years.

THEN, @elizadunc wrote me Fêted Snow! This is a perfectly delicious little morsel of Brienne and Jaime married with kids (and more on the way!!), snowed in and making the most of it. Their banter and way with each other is so easy and familiar, their feelings and history are there, plain as the snow falling down out their window. It’s a delightful slice of their very happy life.

But then it had started snowing on Friday afternoon and apparently hadn’t slowed at all through the night. On Saturday morning when Brienne woke to a very insistently ringing phone she knew that the party, sorry, fête, was off.

She brought the phone back into the bedroom and smiled at the sight of Jaime stretched out across the bed in a starfish pose. He liked to claim he was an excellent bedmate but moments like this proved very much otherwise.

And finally, when my cup was already overflowing, @forbiddenfantasies1 came swooping in with Let’s Make This Next One Last and made me cry. This is a modern AU where Jaime and Brienne are happy and married (I would read eight thousand more stories where they are happy in an established relationship it is literally all I want from them) and their holiday plans get diverted when snow rolls in, cancelling a flight to see Dacey and Benjen (!!!). This fic is such a beautiful treatise on a long-term, mature couple who are struggling through the roteness of daily life. They still love each other deeply, it’s just life that is difficult right now, and their love and commitment to each other is what gets them through it. The tenderness and humor and history and beautifully hot sex are woven together perfectly into this utterly wonderful story.

Jaime was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her, and she felt her heart tighten in her chest for a moment just as it always did when she laid eyes on him. He was still so gorgeous, even after all these years they had passed together. His hair was more gray than golden, and his face was softer, more lined, but she still only saw Jaime. Every mark of time that he bore was simply a reminder of all they had been through together, all the days that he had been hers, and only made him more beautiful in her eyes.

 Right now he looked like the golden retriever she so often compared him to, nearly quivering in his skin with excitement. He had changed into his sleep clothes, a pair of thin gray pants that hugged his hips and thighs in a way that always made her fingers twitch, and a long-sleeved black tee that went perfectly with his complexion. She nearly rolled her eyes before she caught herself. Only Jaime Lannister could make lounging around the house during a vicious snowstorm a testimony of how attractive he was.

Thank you, again, to all of my gifters, I am so grateful to have received these and it helped make my end of the year an absolute joy. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[itsmiraclematter]

Just started a Rime of the Frostmaiden campaign. The characters for this group are much more silly, akin to characters you would see in a one shot. Here’s the lineup.

First: The spunky hick-town country female halfling ranger Sissy, who takes no business from nobody. Farmer turned ranger when her family had to move to Icewind Dale for work. Now travels since the family business froze over two years ago. Hates Don Quixote and only is with the party because Kril likes Vinegar.

Second: Kril. Kril the dwarf woman barbarian with wild hair and a wilder beard to go with it. Has a 5 in intelligence and was literally raised by owlbears until Sissy found her and is teaching her how to speak. She doesn’t see race, only height and speaks only in third person and owlbear cries.

Third: Vinegar, loosely based off of Veigar from League of Legends. A deep gnome warlock who strives to be the most eeeeeeeeeevil entity in the universe and does so by slaying evil (this would make him the only evil and thus the greatest evil). He lives in the head of a street lamp (genie patron). Wears such a comically large stereotypical wizard’s hat that it becomes the only thing you see of him when he dredges through the snow (he is 2’ 4”).

Fourth: Don Quixote the human paladin. Has amnesia, so he based his entire personality off of a book he read. That book was Man of La Mancha. Only took the name because he is also senile and thinks all women are fair maidens and all small races are children. He thus tries to protect Vinegar and Sissy from all danger because it is his sacred duty to do so. Believes that Nalfein is his high elf squire because that’s how delusional he is.

Fifth (my character): Nalfein Mizzyrm, a drow wizard and Drizzt super fan who went to Icewind Dale specifically to visit all the landmarks that Drizzt ventured through. He uses the excuse that there are artifacts and ancient writings left by frost giants that he wants to uncover, but the fact his black cat familiar is named Gwen suggests otherwise. He saved Vinegar when there was a prison break in the Underdark, and Vinegar has never stopped following him since. Has become the leader simply due to everyone else’s ineptitude resulting in everyone just following him around.

I will update when people choose subclasses and when major character moments happen.

[theoriginalladya]

Dragon Age II - Meghan Hawke/Nathaniel Howe, Sebastian Vael *ears perked* *grabby hands* :D for your WIP folders?

Hehehehe   Thought that might get your attention! :)

Okay, so let me start with Meghan and Nate.  Meghan is the only Hawke I’ve ever played (dual wielding rogue).  I ended up playing her twice because on my first playthrough (romanced Fenris) the save I tried to import didn’t work, but I didn’t discover it until Alistair showed up and I knew that language I needed to hear, and I didn’t.  Okay, not so bad.  So I reimported it, it took this time, and I romanced Sebastian second time through in the game.  Great - now I have some baseline on both of those romances.  

That said, I already knew Meghan wasn’t going to be with either of them in her story - she ends up with Nathaniel Howe who she meets when he is still a squire for his lord in the Free Marches.  In fact, they meet in Kirkwall as he is waiting on the ship that will take him back to Ferelden.

Going to put under a cut because this got long really fast! lol

(And I do not vouch for any of this as I first wrote it about six years ago, possibly longer! lol  I’ve certainly learned a LOT more about writing since then, so these will inevitably get cleaned up before I think of posting them in future)

Deep in thought, Meghan left the table and returned to the bar.  She waited to be served another and was considering looking to round up a game of Wicked Grace to entertain herself with when she was unexpectedly and quite rudely hit in the back.  The move shoved her belly first into the bar counter, and the edge caught her just beneath the ribcage.  “Ooof!” Her breath was forced out of her lungs, and for the briefest of moments, Meghan thought she saw stars ….

“Maker’s breath, are you alright?”

Blinking back pain and trying to suck in enough air to breathe let alone reply, Meghan coughed harshly and finally resorted to nodding.  Her vision wasn’t quite back to normal yet, but a strong hand at her back pounded a few times in an offer of help -- help?  How does this help?  

Almost as if he sensed her thoughts, the hand grasped firmly at her shoulder and he guided her to sit on a nearby bench.  She recognized that it was a he, despite still being doubled over from pain.  His voice had that soothing baritone feel to it, very similar to the voice her father once had.  

Once seated, he left her side, returning a half moment later.  He dropped a tankard on the table beside her with a not so gentle thud and both he and she ignored the suds and ale that sloshed over the side, dripping down to form a ring around the vessel.  “I must apologize,” he told her, dropping to a knee in front of her to bring them to eye level.  

Meghan lifted her head, still searching for enough breath with which to speak, when she met cool, steely grey-blue eyes.  Blinking, her mouth worked again, but still nothing escaped that even remotely resembled words.  At best, a rough grunt slipped past.  His eyes narrowed in concern and he moved to her left as if to pound on her back again.

Meghan reacted instantly.  Straightening, she lifted her hand, warding off his actions, and finally drew in a deep breath.  “No, thank you!” she rasped.  She pulled in another immediately following, and then another.  Absently, she rubbed at her ribs where they’d hit the counter. “I’m … good.”

“Are you certain?” he asked.  The look of concern on his face didn’t fade.  If anything, Meghan noticed, his brow seemed to furrow more deeply.  “I would hate to think that I --”

She managed a lopsided smile, waving her hand back and forth between them.  “I’ll be fine,” she promised, this time with better vocal projection even if it was still rough around the edges.  “What -- what happened?”

He grimaced. Glancing around, he pointed towards a mild brawl taking place that was now moved onto the far side of the tavern. “I guess I walked into the middle of something.”

Meghan’s eyes followed his direction and she spotted a pair of vaguely familiar faces in the center of the tussle.  Sighing, she shook her head.  “Willis and Farlan are always in the middle of some ruckus,” she assured him.  Her voice was stronger now and she straightened further.  Reaching for the tankard, she took a careful drink.  Tilting her head slightly to the side, she observed, “You aren’t from these parts, are you?”

The concern finally eased from his face, but Meghan wouldn’t say it softened his features at all. Dark hair, light eyes, and eagle like features even down to his unfortunately large ‘beak’.  Still, he wasn’t entirely unattractive, and Meghan had to admit the caramel smoothness of his voice more than made up for any perceived deficiencies so far.  

“I’m not, no,” he agreed.  Rising, he took a seat on the bench next to her, his eyes drifting to follow the activities across the room.  “My name is Nathaniel Howe.  I’m a squire for Ser Rodolphe Varley.”

Meghan frowned, searching her memory for any information on that name.  She’d heard it a time or two, but had no first hand knowledge. At the same time, something about Nathaniel dropped into place for her.  “You aren’t from the Free Marches, are you?”  When he looked startled, she smiled.  “Your accent -- Ferelden?”

Slowly, he nodded. “I’ve worked hard to disguise it,” he admitted, “and thought I’d made progress.  Obviously, I was mistaken.”

Dropping into the Fereldan tongue, Meghan gave him a sassy grin and extended her hand. “Meghan Hawke, lately of Lothering. My family and I fled to Kirkwall when the Blight started.”

“Lothering?” His look of astonishment faded into a half smile of amusement.  “Your accent, on the other hand, is quite good.”

“My parents were originally from Kirkwall,” she explained.  “They moved to Lothering before I was born.”  She took a healthier swallow of her ale.  “Can I buy you a drink?” she asked after a moment.  

Nathaniel chuckled softly and shook his head.  “It is I who should be buying you one, I think,” he told her.  

Meghan jumped to her feet, only the slightest of tightening at the corner of her eyes indicating any residual pain left from her injuries.  “Nope.  This round is on me.”  She left him before he could protest, returning a couple of minutes later.  Handing him the tankard while regaining her seat, she reached for her own and lifted it to clink against his.  “We Fereldens have to stick together.”

Now, let me tell you a bit about Sebastian in this world.  I adore Sebastian, good parts, bad parts and all the in between.  I’ve always thought he got the short end of the stick on some things too, and I wanted to include him more predominantly in this series of fics, so I’ve sort of broadened his horizons, so to speak.  

Now the clip i’m going to share technically is a part of Serafina and Alistair after the Blight, but it happens in Kirkwall (long story there, too), so I sort of wedged it in on this side of things to make it easier to find in my notes.  You see, he and Serafina met years ago when she is visiting Orlais.  Neither has seen each other since then - about five years previous to this moment.  This is how they bump into one another after all that time...

Their path took them into an open courtyard and for a moment, Serafina’s steps slowed.  

“Did we take a wrong turn?” Alistair asked, his eyes searching the area.  

“I think we must have,” she replied.  “Oh, wait. There’s the Chantry.”  She pointed across the way.  “I think we need to head that way.”  Her hand drifted to a stairwell to the right of the building.  

Alistair’s eyes lifted to view the large building looming over the city.  “You know,” he mused in a tone only she could hear, “I’ve always heard how the people of Hightown think themselves above those in Lowtown, but I didn’t think it was so literal.”

“Hmm?”  Serafina glanced around.  Smiling gently, she nudged him in the arm.  “There is a lot of history here,” she agreed, “but most people tend to forget the simple yet more important aspects of it.”

“Oh?  What do you mean?”  He stopped walking, pulling her over to the center of the courtyard near the Chantry Board.  

Casually, she pointed to the exits to the immediate area.  “What do you see?” she challenged.

Alistair blinked. “Stairs?”

Serafina nodded. “Where do they lead?”

He frowned. “Down?”  

She nodded again and waited, her eyes meeting his.

“To … Lowtown … Oh!” Blinking, Alistair tilted his head to his right.  “Stairs lead up and down.”

“Exactly.  They might find themselves above those whom they think they are better, and their history certainly provides enough reminders that even the bloodiest of battles have not reached these heights,” she pointed out, “but the fact remains that when that happens, they are still stuck. Those stairs are their only way out. If a siege can be held long enough, they have no means of escape.”

“Thankfully,” he muttered for her ears only, “Denerim isn’t set up the same way.”

“There is that,” she agreed.  Then, walking out into the middle of the square, she turned in a slow circle, eyes lifted and surveying the architecture and situation of the buildings surrounding them, “On the other hand, it’s difficult to argue that it isn’t a pretty view.”

“And clean,” Alistair interjected as his eyes followed her.  Granted, certain parts of Ferelden’s capital city were better tended than others.  He wondered how much that had to do with the Blight and civil war or simply because Cailan had been king.  His eyes fell back to her after a moment and he stiffened when he realized …  “Watch out, behind you!”

Serafina, eyes still on the buildings around them, stumbled as she stepped backwards into someone. She caught herself awkwardly, but didn’t quite lose her balance.  “I’m so sorry!”  A strong hand at her arm helped her maintain balance, and she dropped her eyes … to an unexpectedly handsome and familiar, if somewhat older, face from her past. Gasping, her own eyes widened.  “No!  It … it can’t be!” she breathed.  “Sebastian?”

Startled, the man released his hold on her and took a step backwards.  “I’m sorry.  Have we met?” he asked.

It was all Serafina could do to break her gaze from his.  When she did, her eyes trailed over the rest of him.  He stood before her, just as vibrantly muscular and male as she remembered, now dressed in armor that clearly had Chantry’s influence in the design.  That, perhaps, answered a question.  However, some things remained the same.  The blue of his eyes.  The velvety roll of his voice and the soft burr as he spoke ….  

It stung a little that he didn’t recall without some prompting, but considering the circumstances that led to that night, it wasn’t much of a surprise.  “Five years ago in Val Royeaux,” she murmured quietly.  “There was a masquerade and …”

Recognition hit him instantly and he took another quick step backwards from her.  “You!” he gasped, face paling with shock.  

She nodded slowly but remained where she was.  She didn’t realize Alistair had joined her until his voice, quiet but urgent in his concern for her, penetrated through the fog of surprise.  “Are you alright?”

[herondaleholly31]

That’s My Girl Chris Evans X Reader

Overview: You and Chris are going to see your daughter perform in her first talent show. Chris helped with her performance and its a little different from what you would’ve expected...

AN: Another Chris one for you guys! Now that Knives Out is coming out, I’ve had people desperate for more Chris, and this idea melted my heart. This is inspired by a scene from one of my favourite TV shows if you know it message me ;) Thank you for the support as always!

Like and Reblog!

 Word count:2300

"nononono" you panicked as you felt you ankle wobble dangerously. Running on cobblestones In heels was dangerous, and a broken ankle was the last thing you needed right now. You slowed down to an uncomfortable fast walk-jog, willing for your ankles to not snap like sticks. It had started to snow, the first time this winter, and you buried your chin into your scarf so to keep your teeth from chattering. The clock in the local church chimed 7:30 causing your head to whip up in alarm and your heel to skid across a particularly icy cobble. You felt your whole body move back and that gut-wrenching shot of panic flashed through your brain as you saved yourself at the last minute from falling. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, the third time in the past half an hour. You fished it out and shoved it between your ear and shoulder, rounding the corner to beams of saturated yellow light "I'm here, I'm literally outside…… I'm fine love…..yes there was an issue at work that I had to stay for, but I'm here now……okay……I'll see you in a second." 

Oak-field catholic school came looming out the darkness, brightly lit up with banners already hanging limply from the steady fall of snow. You skidded up the steps, taking two at a time, to almost trip and fall on the last one. You bag swung around on your shoulder and almost took out a grandfather walking behind you.

"I am SO sorry, Sir!" You gasped "Honestly If I've hurt you-"

"Swinging for the elderly?" A voice joked "I thought we said you wouldn't do that anymore." Chris was standing by the open door, smiling. He walked over, apologised once more to the old man and his wife, before turning back to you, shaking his head. He was wrapped up in a dark jacket over his favourite blue shirt, and his shoes had been cleaned, so they gleamed; he had obviously dressed up the occasion. His hair was still a little messy from a day of running his hands through it, and the sight alone caused you to sigh with joy.

"I'm an addict I couldn't help it," You joked. "Hi."

"Hello." He grinned. He pulled you in for a quick hug, planting a soft kiss by your ear. "How was your day?"

"I don't want to talk about it." 

"Duly noted. Come on," Chris kept his arm hooked around your waist as you both walked into the school "the show hasn't started yet." 

"I thought I was going to miss her." 

"And that would've made you a terrible parent." 

"It would've." It was good to relax and joke around after the day you'd just had, you could already feel the knot in your shoulders start to loosen. You said hi to Lina's mum as you passed and nodded to Sister Margret, who jerked curtly back. The pair of you was just quickly catching up about to head into the hall when a small voice could be heard just behind to you. 

"Dad?" 

Connie had poked her head out the backstage door. She looked like she was going to be sick; pale skin, sweaty forehead, her nails bitten down to the surface. Her eyes were wide and desperate, and this caused Chris to run over and lean down on one knee. You watched from a distance; Connie didn't like being nervous in front of you because she knew it caused you to become overprotective. You saw Connie shake her head and the words "I can't do it," be said before Chris lightly put a hand over her mouth. He shook his head and spoke soft words, moving the hand to then to bring her head forward so he could kiss the top of her head. Chris said something that caused your daughter to laugh weakly before she said something that caused a belt of laughter from him. He then pulled her in briefly, their cheeks squishing together as he hugged her tight before chivying her lightly towards the door. One last high five and then she slipped backstage again, leaving her Dad to run back over to you smiling.

"Everything okay?"

"yea she's fine. Last-minute nerves. We've been rehearsing all day though so she knows what she's doing."

"I'm just looking forward to FINALLY seeing this secret performance," you said as you entered the auditorium where rows of creaky chairs were set up facing the stage. The sound of a generic TV show single was on a loop through the speakers on either side of the stage, buzzing slightly with the increase of base every few seconds. The air of you headed to two seats in the third row on the inside end, meaning you had the perfect view without having to crane your necks. There was a pause while you both flicked through the programme and said hi to parents of friends and to say hi to that one hysterical fan (there was always one) before you couldn't resist any more.

"Are you going to give me ANY hints about what she's doing." 

"Nope."

'Nothing at all?"

"It's a surprise." 

"Should I film it?" 

"Oh absolutely," there was a glint in your husband's eye that for some reason caused you to become suspicious "we're never going to want to forget this." 

You wanted to ask more, but then the lights went down and a thunder of applause. One of the sisters was standing just by the stage with a microphone in one hand and a notebook in the other, from which she read out "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Oak-field's Talent Extravaganza. Now, please put your hands together for Alice and her jumping juggling friends." 

******* 

"She's next, she's next!" You squired in your seat with impatience, excitement starting to bubble in your chest. Chris handed you his phone, and you set up the camera, propping it up on your bag so the performance could be filmed. "I'm nervous, why am I nervous she's doing the show not me. Oh gosh, I'm panicking-"

"Hon she's going to be fine!" But he still reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it in reassurance. His jiggling knee also gave it away that he too was feeling a little nervous, and that oddly calmed you a little. 

The lights went down once more, and there was a smattering of polite applause. Lina walked out first, her smile full and confident, strutting over to her spot with rehearsed purpose before standing with her hand on her hip, poised. Connie, with her smaller physique and her curly hair already coming loose from her ponytail, gave the image of someone who was more reserved and shy. You watched her eyes rake the crowd before she caught your eye. You gave her a small wave; Chris lifted his arm so his thumbs up could be seen over the group. This reassurance caused Connie to nod in determination, before gripping her hand onto her hip, smiling widely. A click of the stereo and the slightly tinny sound of an old Judy Garland song started to play. This granted a nod of approval from Sister Margret. A very devout woman of the church who before the show had sent a list of songs and artists that were "recognised as inappropriate and would therefore not be tolerated." She was also a massive Judy Garland fan and had, therefore, lacked hesitation when putting the girls into the show. The CD stuttered, then the tinny backing track to "somewhere over the rainbow" rang out through the old speakers. The girls started their routine, slowly swaying back and forth, little voices sweet and nervous but to you the loveliest sound. You beamed widely, tears already clogging your eyes and pride burst through your chest. Everyone else saw the charm in it too; the grandparents in front of you cooed at each other about how cute she was. You wanted she lean over and say "she's my daughter," but that would distract you from the show. 

A couple lines in, however, the music scratched, stuttered, and then stopped. The hall was silent. Both girls stood in stage, looking at each other and then back out into the audience. Your heart lept into your mouth. You tried to catch Connie's eye, but this was causing you to panic more. "We have to do something," you hissed to Chris. 

"Just wait." 

BAM! Bass blasted out of the speakers, shuddering the ground. Both girls grinned widely before throwing off the big jumpers they both wore, to reveal t-shirts decorated with flashing stars to match the socks they both pulled up to their knees. Horrified, you heard the lyrics to an all too familiar song.

'I was like

Good gracious- ass is bodacious 

Flirting to show my patience 

I'm waiting for the right time to shoot my steez….'

And without hesitation, both girls started dancing perfectly in time, jumping, sliding and turning, never missing a note as they lip-synced along. There was a roar of noise from the audience, a mixed response of anger and howling laughter. You turned to Chris, who was roaring with laughter, rolling back and forth on his chair, clapping loudly. 

"You taught our daughter the lyrics to Hot in Here by NELLY?"

"But," Chris had to collect himself for a second he was laughing so hard "but doesn't she look great!"

"CHRISTOPHER!" 

"It's a great song! Look, they're just coming up to the chorus." You turned back in time to see you, daughter, mouth the lyrics I am getting so hot right now, imma take my clothes off before throwing herself into a cartwheel. You were so shocked you burst out laughing, and then you couldn't stop. It was brilliant, they'd obviously spent hours on it. The audience was loving it too, most of their classmates cheering them in next to their slightly shell shocked but amused parents. The Sisters, on the other hand, looked horrified, Sister Margret was shaking in her seat, her face so stern it looked as if her forehead was about to crack in two. She started to feverishly whisper to the sister next to her. She jumped out of her seat and scurried behind the speakers, desperately trying to unplug them. Connie and Lina kept going, never missing any lyrics or steps. The speakers were eventually cut off, and the hall erupted into thundering applause. Chris stood up, whopping and pointing proudly at his daughter. "That's my girl! That's my daughter!" You laughed at his yells of pride and stood up with him, clapping widely. The lights went up, and Connie's eyes went straight to the pair of you. She was blushing, but when she saw you, she beamed and waved. A sister grabbed both of them by the shoulder and frog-marched them off stage to a waiting Sister Margaret. She beckoned Chris over too, and for the first time, Chris's jubilation faltered. 

"I think I'm about to get told off." 

********

"Again," Chris said for the fourth time "I am so sorry for getting you into trouble honey." Connie poked her head up from her giant bowl of ice cream.

"It's only a week of no break times Dad. Besides, it gives us time to learn our next dance."

"Next dance?" You frowned.

"Lina's older sister wants us to do another dance for her birthday, to a song called s&m?" Connie shrugged "should be fun." 

Chris's eyes widened, but you shook your head. Maybe not tonight. Instead, he went up and refilled all your ice cream pots, putting on so many reeses pieces the ice cream was lost. It was Connie's favourite though, and she squealed in delight before tucking in once more. 

"But I'm proud of you." Chris threw his arm over his daughter and brought her into his side, her head barely reaching his shoulder. He kissed her head and smiled proudly towards you "didn't she do amazing?" 

"You did amazing," you smiled. 

Connie blushed once more. "Lina was better at the dancing than me." 

"Are you kidding? You got moves, kid! Just like your mother," Chris winked, this time causing your cheeks to tinge pink. Praise and jokes were exchanged until it was time for them to go, the streets cold and icy with snow. Although she was nearly 9, Chris hooked Connie by her armpits and swung her onto his shoulders, one hand holding onto her wriggling foot, so she didn't fall off. The other handheld yours, making sure he kept close to you as you gingerly walked in your heels to the car. The snow was still falling in from the sky, and it stuck to your coat and to Chris's beard and made Connie look like a little old woman, her hair was so white. She squealed in delight not caring, sticking her little pink tongue out, trying to catch any snowflakes. It was the perfect image, and you feel your heart warm, seeing your small family together. 

'I haven't done something yet today," Chris suddenly said. 

"What?" 

Chris stopped you for a second to lean in and give you a quick kiss, his lips warm and slightly cracked. He broke then there was another, and then he brought your intertwined hands up to his lips to kiss your hand, where your matching wedding bands knocked against each other. There were flecks of white clinging to his eyelashes, and his eyes glittered from the string of lights everywhere. "I love you both so much."

"I love you too." 

"Love you three times !" Connie smiled. You both chuckled and continued to walk towards the car "Love you four times" Chris retorted. 

"Love you five times." 

"Six times."

"Ten times."

"A hundred times." 

"One Gazillion and three!" Connie yelled, her smile triumphant. 

"Wow. One Gazillion and three," Chris smiled to you "we're pretty damn lucky." 

You squeezed his hand. "We really are." 

[patandpran]

The Nuisance and the Handsome Prince - A Sarawatine Medieval AU - Chapter 18

Tine is an aspiring Squire who has been training his whole life to work alongside the Kingdom’s finest Knights. Sarawat is a Prince who, on the outside, seems fierce and unapproachable. He is disinterested in any of his royal duties, namely his Knight training. What happens when Tine is assigned to be the fierce and handsome prince’s Squire?

Find the Masterpost here Read on Archiveofourown here.

Tine shivered in the confines of the stone cell. It was different than the one his Father had been in. He was in the more public dungeons of the Castle, as if the Head Knight wanted to show him off as a prize that he had won.

His clothing had been stripped away to ensure that no other hidden weapons were concealed with them. He had been given rags to put on instead and they stunk like mildew and decay, likely belonging to the last prisoner that had been kept within these walls.

A shred of moonlight crept in from the small barred window that was at the top of his cell. Tine was thankful he had some fresh air to breathe as he assumed he would have a long wait within the cell before his Trial would take place and he would be condemned to death for Treason.

Tine had long accepted his fate, knowing that whatever path his revenge took, it would result in something dire for him. He had not entirely succeeded but at least his Father was free, even though he was still not sure who to thank for that. He knew there was an underground network brewing in the Castle, which Man had reached out to help free his Father. Tine wondered who exactly was at the Head of it but hoped that they would continue to make changes that would benefit the Kingdom as a whole and fight against injustice like his Father’s capture.

There was change on the horizon. Tine just wouldn’t be alive to see it.

The moonbeams danced along the bridge of his nose and taunted Tine, making him think of the screaming sound that Sarawat had made as he was pulled from the field. He wondered if they had continued with the fight… Had Sarawat won….?

Tine could hear the music coming from the Revelries that were to celebrate the closing of the Knight’s Trials. They would last for three days and, on the final evening, the Knight Ceremony would occur and Prince Sarawat would announce who he intended to marry.

Tine was somewhat relieved that he wouldn’t have to present for such an announcement as he knew it would break his heart more than it had already been. The thought of Sarawat with someone else made Tine’s blood boil but the reality of them ever being together was even further from a possibility as they were separated not only by their classes but by literal stone walls.

“I just hope that you find happiness.” Tine whispered to the moon. “And that you find it in your heart to someday forgive me, Wat.”

+++++++++++

Sarawat sat between his Mother and Father with a vacant look on his face. Ever since he had seen Mil’s blood on the field and watched the person he cared for most in the world dragged away to the Dungeons, Sarawat had been silent. He clutched Tine’s Wolf Brooch in his hand and turned it over and over like some sort of sick ritual.

The Knight Trial Closing Revelries had begun. Everyone who was anyone in the Kingdom was in attendance and wearing their grandest attire. The Ballroom was decorated even more extravagantly than the Ball and the dance floor was full of twirling couples. It was dizzying for any spectator but the Prince paid it no mind and instead stared into nothingness. His Mother reached over and put one palm gently on her son’s. It was the hand that held the Brooch. “Steady, my son. It is not the time to show weakness. There are Hunters everywhere and you are now the biggest Prey there is.”

Sarawat barely registered his Mother’s words as she whispered them to him. He didn’t care what happened to him. If someone was plotting to kill him, he wouldn’t put up a fight. He no longer had anything to lose. In a few short moments, he had lost his best friend and the man he loved more than the world itself. Everything was shattered and broken, far beyond repair.

“Where is Phukong?” The King hissed at the Queen, a look of agitation on his face. “I will not have both of my sons in a state when a treasonous prisoner has escaped and another traitor has been revealed to be under our noses all along. We cannot appear to be weak at a moment like this.”

Sarawat stirred at the mention of his brother who he suddenly noticed was nowhere to be seen. A feeling of guilt shot through him as he realized he was likely still at Mil’s side in the Infirmary. Sarawat wanted nothing more than to turn back time to that morning where things had been awful but at least manageable. Now, he just felt numb.

“Both Sarawat and Phukong have been through a lot today.” The Queen shared gently with the King, keeping her face composed and elegant, just in case any subjects were eavesdropping. “We should let our sons process things in the way that they need to…”

“They are Princes of this Kingdom, not delicate flowers.” The King spat back. “There is no time for emotions to get in the way when a Traitor has been at our Son’s side this whole time. How did you not see it, Sarawat?”

At this, the Brooch dropped from Sarawat’s hand and he growled, “I was blinded and manipulated? Is that what you want to hear? I am sorry that I try to see the best in people and that cost me so much. You have no idea what I am navigating right now, Father. I need some fresh air…”

“Sarawat!” His Mother cried after him but the Prince had already torn through the crowd but not before snatching up the Brooch again.

Sarawat was on the Hunt and he was not sure for what. He needed to sink his teeth into something or scream into the night. It was all too much for him to handle. He stalked through the crowd and emerged into the Royal Gardens which were shockingly silent for a night such as this.

He wished he had his sword so that he could cut up the rose bushes but he opted for his fists instead. As his fists tore through the plants, the smell of iron filled his nostrils as the thorns ripped apart his skin. Rivulets of blood began to pour down onto the soil as he continued with his attack, the pain never quite catching up with him.

“Wat…”

Sarawat stilled at the sound of his younger brother’s voice and he winced as his fists exploded with pain.

Phukong rushes to his brother’s side and ripped off his cape, tying it quickly around Sarawat’s bleeding hands to staunch the blood flow, if only slightly. Phukong looked up to how broken and torn apart his brother looked. It was completely heartbreaking.

“I am so sorry for what you have had to endure.” Phukong murmured, cradling his brother’s hands in his own. “There are things that have been set into motion today that will determine the future of our Kingdom… I know that is the last thing you want to hear right now but… you have to find a way to put your head on straight.”

Sarawat’s mouth gaped open in surprise. “Kong, what are you talking about? Where have you been all day? Were you not with Lord Mil?”

“I can’t tell you everything quite yet.” Phukong chewed at his lip nervously. “But just know that there are those within the Castle walls that want to hurt you… you have to be careful about who you trust.”

“I know. Tine has been captured…” The words fell painfully from Sarawat’s lips.

A look of confusion flashed across Phukong’s eyes. “No, Wat. You need to trust Tine. He is not a Traitor. He is trying to do what is best for the Kingdom…. or rather, do what is best for the People of this Kingdom which is my goal too.”

Sarawat’s brow furrowed, his mind reeling. “Brother, are you feeling well? I don’t think you remember what happened this morning… Tine was thrown into the dungeon for being a Traitor of the Kingdom…”

“And who exactly made that accusation, Wat?” Phukong challenged, squeezing his brother’s hand slightly as if it to motivate him to use his head.

“The Head Knight…” Sarawat answered, slowly registering what Phukong was implying. “But why would the Head Knight falsely accuse Tine of being treasonous? How would that benefit him in any way?”

“Think about the prisoner that escaped this morning. Think about the way Mil reacted when he saw the make of the sword that you were using in the battle this morning…”  Phukong prompted gently, hoping his brother would be able to figure it out. “Did it not look familiar to you, Wat?”

Sarawat wracked his mind to try to remember any similarities between his and Mil’s swords. But then it dawned on him that he had not used his own sword that morning. He had used Tine’s…

“Mil and Tine’s swords…” Sarawat could not believe he had not noticed it before. “They are practically twins. They were forged by the same Blacksmith… by…. by… Tine’s father…. Tine’s Father is the prisoner that was accused of Treason by the Head Knight and escaped?”

Sarawat suddenly felt out of breath. Phukong noticed this and guided his older brother to a bench within the Garden. Sarawat held the bloodied material in his hands and hung his head, unsure of how to process the information that he had just discovered.

“But this does nothing but prove that Tine was here for treasonous reasons from the beginning… He used me… to try to get to the Head Knight?” Sarawat felt as if he no longer could believe anything that he had experienced throughout the last months.

Had Tine ever actually wanted to be with him? Or was it all a ruse to remain by his side so that he could gather information about the Head Knight? How had Sarawat been so thick as to be so manipulated by a stranger?

“You don’t know of Tine’s true intentions until you speak with him.” Phukong explained, putting a hand across his brother’s back in solidarity. “Just like I think Mil had his reasons from keeping this all from you too…”

Sarawat’s back straightened at the mention of Mil. “Don’t you dare defend him. Just because you have your own feelings for…”

“My feelings are irrelevant.” Phukong interjected firmly, his eyes narrowing at Sarawat’s accusation. “I am not excusing Mil’s actions or saying that they are all right in any way. I am simply stating a fact that you might want to open your mind up to other’s perspectives… I don’t think Mil or Tine intended to hurt you with their actions, in fact, I suspect both of them wanted to protect you, in their own way.”

Sarawat stared up at the Moon and wished it could give him the answers he needed. This conversation with his brother had only complicated things further. He was been torn in even more directions than before and he did not have any instinct on which path was the right to take.

“Kong… how did you know all of this?” Sarawat questioned his brother. “Where have you really been all day?”

“I am sorry, brother.” Phukong rose slowly to his feet. “I cannot share that information quite yet but just know that you have allies on your side but there are also many enemies lurking within the shadows of the Castle. I will explain when it is safe to do so.”

Before Sarawat could protest any further, his Brother disappeared into the Castle, leaving him along under the moonlight with bloodied hands and a confused heart.

+++++++++++++++++

“You did well, my son.”

Mil could hear his Father’s voice floating somewhere in the distance. 
 “Tine is now in custody and the next phase of the plan is being set into motion.”

Mil wished he could navigate himself to consciousness but there was something keeping him from surfacing, so instead he simply floated in the fog and listened to his Father.

“The act will take place on the Final Night of the Revelries. It truly is a disappointment that you will not be present to be Knighted but that will come later… And anyway, you won’t need to be a simple Knight anymore… not when you become the Prince of the Kingdom after I’m through…”

Mil had never heard this step of the plan before and it confused him deeply. He had been ordered by the King to protect Prince Sarawat and his Father had shared with him Tine’s true identity but this….

What was the Head Knight going to do next and why did it terrify Mil so much?

+++++++++++++++

The knock sounded on Sarawat’s sleeping quarters and he shot up in his bed. It was likely the middle of the night. He immediately reached for the sword that was by his bedside and quickly retracted his reach when he realized it was Tine’s.

Sarawat slowly got up from his bed and walked toward the door, his brother’s words from earlier about being wary about who he trusted ringing in his ears. He slowly opened the door and saw a message on the ground. The messenger was nowhere to be seen.

The Prince knelt down and snatched it up before rushing back into the safety of his own room and latching the door. He breathed heavily before opening up the parchment. The writing was scrawled in crimson ink:

The Hooded Traitor will be further harmed if you do not find him tonight. Follow the blood and you will find him…

Sarawat touched the parchment with his fingertip and found that the ink was still wet which meant that it had not been written very long ago. He hastily grabbed Tine’s sword and burst into the hallway, snatching a torch from the wall to light his way.

Although it was hard to make out at first, the Prince spotted a few drips of red on the stones of the hallway. He held his sword out to make sure that if anyone was going to launch an attack, he was ready to defend himself. He slowly made his way through the halls of the castle. It was bizarre how quickly the atmosphere of the castle could change mere hours after the Ball had ended.

The Trail of blood ended at the top of the stairs of the Dungeon. Sarawat had only been down those stairs once before when his Father had wanted to prove a point to him about respecting authority. He’d spent the evening in any empty cell shivering until his mother retrieved him the next morning. Needless to say the Queen was not happy with the King for quite some time after that.

Sarawat descended the stairs cautiously, wondering if he was walking into a trap but he was too motivated to protect Tine to question his actions. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he walked down the hallway of empty cells until he spotted one with a crumpled shadow in the back corner. Sarawat lifted the torch toward the cell bars and his breath hitched when he saw Tine’s form so broken and battered.

“Tine…”

His former Squire stirred and opened his eyes. When he registered Sarawat’s presence, Tine immediately rushed forward and curled his hands around the bars. “Wat, you have to go…”

Sarawat saw the fear in Tine’s eyes and the morning’s events flashed through his memory again as well as his conversation with Phukong. He was so torn about what to feel and what to believe but, ultimately, with Tine mere inches from him, Sarawat knew he still loved his Squire more than he had loved anyone or anything else before.

Tine wasn’t Sarawat’s Prey, he was part of his Pack.

“I’m so sorry.” Tine blurted out when he saw that the Prince wasn’t moving. “I’m sorry I lied about who I am… I never meant to hurt you…”

“I know that now.” Sarawat breathed out slowly, realizing that his words were true and realizing that for some ridiculous reason he still trusted Tine. “Your Father… he was the prisoner who escaped…”

“Falsely accused prisoner.” Tine countered, somehow still managing to have some fight in him after all he’d been through. “My Father has never done anything treasonous. All he wants is for this Kingdom to be a safe and equal place for ALL people. Unfortunately, your Father and the Head Knight don’t seem to agree…”

“My Father can be convinced…” Sarawat muttered, his head reeling at Tine’s sudden candour and then the hurt hit again. “… Why did you lie to me, Tine? I could have helped you if you’d just trusted me.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” Tine admitted. “I mean, look where I am now… you’re the future King, Wat. You can’t get mixed up with someone like me…”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” Sarawat practically growled, suddenly loathing that there were cell bars to separate them.

Tine’s eyes widened and he stepped back suddenly, startled by the Prince’s change in demeanour. An unnameable intensity hung in the air between them as Tine studied the reflection of the torch flickering in the Prince’s eyes.

“Maybe I am an idiot for still trusting you, Tine… maybe I am weak for loving you… but that’s just it…” The air was swept from Tine’s lungs as he listened to Sarawat’s confession. “You give me strength. From the moment I met you, I felt more like ‘me’ than I ever have before. It felt like any part of me that was ever a mystery, you helped me to shed light on it. You helped me find myself.”

Tine felt the tears spring to his eyes as he neared the cell bars once again. Sarawat reached through with one hand and cradled Tine’s head with it gently, wishing he could provide Tine all the comfort in the world.

“I love you, Tine. To be the best Knight I can be, to be the best King I can be… I need you by my side.”

They both slowly shrunk down so they were sitting across from one another, just sitting in the simplicity of each other’s presence. They couldn’t take on the weight of reality at that moment but at least they could be near one another.

Tine gathered his thoughts and opened his mouth to finally respond to Sarawat’s confession with his own.

But, before he could, Sir Boss’s boot connected with Sarawat’s head. Tine watched in horror as the Prince’s head slammed down onto the stone floor.

Boss winced at the Prince, “I’m sorry, Wat. Father’s orders…”

[the-jade-cross]

Knight of the Forest - Chapter V

Lillia tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Nanteza and mild limbered from the empty bedroom that would serve as Maya's residence at least while her sister's wedding preparations were underway. when Jamie had learned that a childhood friend of Evelyn’s needed a room to stay in without his sister's knowledge the night was more than willing to oblige telling the servants it was for one of the Tyrells which wasn't a lie but a good enough fib to make anyone think it was for any one of Maya’s other four siblings. the bedroom door swung open and out stepped Maya and Nanteza. Maya wore a lovely dress of pale blue silk with detailed white embroidery from the chest about halfway down her hips with a lazy top shawl attached the top of her dress and laces lacing up the whole back with blue ribbon.

Lillia nodded in satisfaction, “there is no denying that you are a Tyrell now.”

Maya smiled before looking left and right as if fearing to be found. she was so used to her mask obscuring her view that she turned her head completely to look left or right.

“I am a little dehydrated. the sun is so bright up here.” Maya explained. “I need a water source.”

the two girls nodded in total understanding. this Nanteza did not feel a breeze occasionally she felt claustrophobic and Lillia hated being indoors longer than necessary. her maid often wondered why she found specks of soil in Lily's bed, but she never bothered to question it.

“I'll take you to the garden pond fishy.” Nanteza offered, looping her arm through Maya’s. “Lillia weren't you supposed to be doing some maid of honor things?”

Lily's lime eyes rounded, and she spun on her bare feet before bolting down the Hall. “I'll see you later!”

Nanteza and Maya chuckled as they watch the girl go before wondering how Lillia would manage to not lose her mind while helping Margaery with the wedding. Out of the girls Lillia was the least organized and her head was always in the trees… literally.

when Lillia came barreling into the gardens insert of Marjorie she in fact came in contact with a rock-hard chest. wincing she looked up into the kind blue eyes of a young Knight. Lillia searched her brain for a name to match the face. incredibly tall with curly dark Brown hair and a Rouge curl over his forehead that would make a girl swoon. a dimple on his chin and cupids bow lips with the body of a God and the razor kind of jawline.

“Sir Henri!” Lily gasped relieved when she remembered his name which earned her a gorgeous smile in return. “I am so sorry!”

the bear of a man chuckled, and his crisp baritone voice made Lillia shiver. “do not worry yourself lady Lillia. out of all of things I have bumped into today I would rather bump into you for I enjoy running into someone as pretty as you.”

Lillia blushed and went to talk a stray curl behind her ear only to remember that she was wearing breaches underneath her skirt and her white blouse was slipping off one shoulder her leather corset being the only thing from her chest being exposed. her feet were bare, and her hair looked like a Crow made a home in it. she peered around Sir Henri and spied several nights sparring in the grassy lawn but with blunted swords. Sir Henri unnoticed Lillia’s intrigue and held out his arm to her.

“care to join me? I was just about to select an opponent in my practice.”

Lillia was about to reject his offer when she spied the all too familiar figure of Loras sparring with another man. She beamed at Henri and took his arm.

“I would be delighted.” she told him.

Henri led her over to where the Squires were guarding the assortment of weapons and Henri began to inspect each. Lillia's eyes fell on an especially large battleaxes and she lifted it to test its balance.

“you favor the axe my lady.” he asked.

Lillia smiled. “I rather prefer to wield a larger weapon than a sword.”

Henri’s eyes widened. it was no secret that Lillia Arryn was skilled in arms, but no one knew of her preferred weapon.

“would you care to spar a bit?” the Knight asked the girl. “all these weapons are blunted.”

Lillia swung the axe and decided that it would do. “that is a shame. I would like to have a scar to showcase my sparring days. the only scar I have is from falling from a tree.”

Henri chuckled as he selected an axe for himself. “I am guessing you do not want me to go easy on you.”

ignoring the curious looks she was getting from all the men present Lillia tide her hair back from her eyes and walked to a corner of the lawn.

“do your worst.” she taunted.

Loras pushed to the front of the crowd they have formed around Lillia and Henri about ready to tell Lillia to back off, but it was too late. Henri took his first shot. Lillia swung her axe up easily to block the first blow and was able to decipher Henri strength through the blow. they drew back and began to pace each other waiting for a weakness or a stumble or even an opening. Lillia made the next move swinging the axe around to get a left strike and Henri was just in time to protect his side from a bruising. that was when the fight began. the two axes swung in the air clashing at swiping to try and take out the other's opponent. Henri was strong and big but Lillia was swift and a small target not to mention her muscles were of iron. while the onlookers began to cheer in place bets Loras kept his eyes on Lillia preparing to interrupt if the girl was in any kind of danger. Lily spied a pattern in Henri strikes: head, left side and then right. If she wanted to beat Henri, she needed to break his pattern. As she ducked to avoid the left strike, she drove her fingers into the earth, gathering soil in her hand. She would need it to form metal. Henri took a strong right swing and Lillia blocked it with her axe, but the blade of her weapon was facing her neck. Henri was big and a little more push and Lillia would lose her head if the blades had been sharp. Loras moved to intervene when Lillia brought up her free arm and criss crossed it against the edge of the axe like an X. What no one else knew was that beneath the cloth of her sleeve, her arm was coated in metal she had formed from the soil. She faintly heard Loras yell her name in fear, believing that the blade was piercing her skin.

Lillia drove her bare feet into the grass and hoped no one noticed that she had moved the grass to wrap around her ankle as an anchor. Henri and Lilia pushed against each other until Lillia finally pushed enough that Henri stumbled back, and he found the blade of an axe in his face. Cheers erupted from all those present except Loras who stormed over to Lillia with a glare that could melt glass.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” he snapped at the girl who was helping Henri to his feet. “You could have been hurt and where would that leave you?”

Lillia turned and met the fury in Loras’s grey orbs with the green anger burning in hers. “I would be on the front stoop of Highgarden manor, waiting for a certain young Tyrell to get off his arse and say farewell as I left his life forever.”

Loras brushed off the comment but Henri saw the way the boy’s face paled at Lillia’s words. “The next time you do something so stupid, you will be answering to me.”

Lillia scoffed, “I do not answer to you Loras Tyrell. I do not need your protection or anyone else’s for that matter.”

“I believe that.” Henri said, smiling even though Loras shot him a scowl.

“You stay out of this,” Loras snapped, “As for you. A young lady shouldn’t even be sparring! Let alone with an axe!”

“You seemed to have thought differently all those times I beat you when we were little,” Lillia objected, planting her hands on her curved hips.

“I was a child then but I’m a man now with sense,” Loras said, fighting the urge to look at where her hand was forcing her skirt to showcase the shape of her hips. “You are still the naïve innocent little girl you were then!”

Lillia raised one eyebrow and Henri could practically see the fumes coming from her ears. “I am naive and innocent enough to know about the bees and the bees!”

Loras frowned in puzzlement, “Don’t you mean the birds and the bees?”

Lillia shook her head, “In any normal relationship it would be birds and the bees but, in your case, Loras, it is the bees and the bees. You need a woman for it to be birds and the bees.”

Henri swallowed, trying to not interrupt Lillia who was turning red from anger or Loras who was puzzling over the meaning behind the girl’s words. Lillia, seeing that Loras needed a moment to figure things out, looped her arm through Henri’s and allowed the man to escort her from the lawn. When Lillia came storming into the pavilion where Margaery sat waiting, the girl’s eyes narrowed and grumbling something about stupid gorgeous men, Margaery opened her mouth to speak.

“Not a word,” Lillia warned.

Margaery’s mouth snapped shut and she chose to ask her brother about it later.

*******

“psst.” Nanteza hissed in Lillia's direction who sat on the other side of Margaery at the breakfast table, “pass me the peas?”

Lillia saw that the peas were closer to Mya than Lillia but she knew that Nanteza preferred to not face Maya's wrath after how the two had set the girl up with Oberyn Martell the day before in the gardens. Lillia turned her eyes to the bowl of bright green peas and smirked. No one was looking, too busy digging into the meal or talking with Margaery and Maya. Lillia concentrated on the peas, imagining them growing little green legs and trotting over to Nanteza's plate. She heard someone mutter her name and looked up to spy Tommen who sat across from her giving her a pointed look. She looked down and saw that one by one the peas had rolled out of the bowl and rolled single file across the table straight onto Nanteza's plate. Lillia smirked at Tommen who grinned back. She had revealed her powers to the boy one day when he had come in on her growing Flowers in the washbasin in her room and he had done well in keeping it a secret but he insisted on watching whenever she called the girls for it fascinated the boy. Lillia almost choked and the grin on her face faded faster than it had appeared when a certain blonde Knight strode into the dining room , slightly sweaty from a morning workout and liking his sword for once.

“Ah Loras!” Margaery called, “we were just discussing attire Phil wedding. Maya will be wearing blue naturally, Nanteza claimed red and Lillia wants yellow. What color suits you best?”

“Pink?” Lillia muttered too softly for anyone but Tommen to here and she and the boy stifled snorts of laughter which did not go unnoticed by Loras who frowned in suspicion as he sat down across from his sister, diagonally across from Lillia.

“I am not sure. I was planning on just wearing my green doublet…”

Margaery shook her head, “you where that all the time period what about that Golden grey doublet you had made before we left home? It brings out the color of your eyes and it would match Lillia's dress!”

Lillia turned to glare at Margaery but Loras smirked and locked eyes with the girl, “I think I will.”

He smirked rather proudly but Lillia stuck her chin out in defiance and began to drink her Apple juice. She needed to change her plan of attire.

“That is quite a lot of peas you've got there Nanteza,” Loras observed.

Lillia peered over the top of her glass to see that she had forgotten to stop the procession of peas and now Nanteza's plate was full and overflowing with the green balls. Unable to stop herself Lillia laughed violently into her Cup and in response, the whole bowl of peas burst like a firework, raining peas down on everyone. After the rain had ceased and the room was swallowed into silence, Tommen and Lilly burst out laughing. Soon everyone was joining in but only four of those present knew how such a thing could have occurred and Loras used his laughing as a disguise for his irritation at seeing Tommen grab Lillia's hand under the table as they bellowed. An hour later, Lillia, Maya and Nanteza were walking down the corridor back to their rooms to change into simpler clothes before joining Margaery on her daily charitable expeditions.

“When breakfast is as disastrous as that was,” Maya chuckled, “You can tell that your day will be far from ordinary.”

Lillia giggled as Nanteza elbowed Maya in the arm playfully, “And what about last night? Any roses catch your attention during your afternoon stroll in the gardens?”

Maya shrugged, “other than the spiky yellow Dornish thistle that the Lannister’s have imported from overseas, nothing struck my fancy.”

“Ooh!” Lillia crooned, “So you find spiky yellow thistles more attractive than smooth, beautiful tulips?”

“Not unless you have a thing for kittens,” Maya muttered.

“but of course lovely Mayaka Tyrell has a thing for vipers… ow!” Lillia cried when Maya pinched her on the arm near the end of her ranting.

Nanteza snorted as she headed to her bedroom door, “I’ll see you two in a bit. I am going to signal Evelyn before I head out. Have either of you seen her in person recently? Since Maya last saw her?”

The two girls shook their heads before Nanteza dove into her room and Maya parted from Lillia to go into her own chambers. Lillia skipped down the hallway joyfully to her own room when she came upon a horrifying sight. The unmistakable figure of Loras was entering a bedroom down the hall and at his side… was none other than Olyver… the prostitute from the same brothel Maya had been at for years… the same Olyver whose brother raped Maya in her unconscious state… the same Olyver who was rumored to be as gay as they come in men. And he was sneakily entering a room with a grinning Loras. Lillia kicked open her door, surprised that the hinges did not break and locked herself inside. Changing into a brown tunic and breeches, she shoved her hair into a hat and tried to make it look like she was a boy but eventually gave up but stuck with the breeches and vest. She grabbed a bag full of jewelry and coin she did not need as well as. Few dresses that Cersei had given her that were too skimpy to be called dresses and climbed out the window, vowing to never enter or exit by the door again. When she joined Maya in the courtyard to wait for the others, Maya could sense something was bothering the girl hence the intense glare the girl was giving her shoes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Remind me to ask Margaery about any eligible bachelors that are open to marriage… anyone who isnt blond, grey eyed and a douche.”

Maya’s eyes widened in shock but she decided to not even bother asking. She recalled seeing Loras storming onto the sparring field after breakfast in a similarly pissed off attitude. Something must have happened. She looked back to Lillia, about to ask her if Loras had said something only to find the girl gone from where she had been and there she stood across the courtyard talking happily to Ser Henri… well that was fixed quick!

[senaar-ika]

The Pixie & The Bard: Ch. 1

Hi there. It’s been a while. I honestly just haven’t had the creative energy or motivation to write recently. I moved house and started working more and I’m about to start a new semester of university. What with the world being a flaming trash bin my brain hasn’t quite been up for much. 

Welcome to all the new followers and thank you to everyone who’s stuck around. I’ve had this first chapter of a multi-chaptered fic sitting in my drafts for a while so I thought why not share. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: You’re working as a fairy at a Renaissance Festival in the New York countryside when you meet Charlie and Henry. A father and son who are quite the pair. You flirt with guests at the festival for fun all the time, but something feels different about this one . . . 

CW/Tags: nothing major, just heavy flirting, awkward dad Charlie, literally too much Henry but I promise his relationship to reader is important, also E making up shit about renaissance faires, this is mostly just me longing to dress up like a fairy and go to a festival and watch people joust ok 

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 1 - An Chance Encounter

The festival grounds are surrounded on all sides by forest. Trodden down dirt walking paths snake past vendors and performers, ultimately leading visitors to the main events in the center clearing. The Fairy Tree -as it is affectionately known by performers and guests alike- is your territory. The ancient sycamore tree looks like something right from the pages of a storybook with its sprawling roots, knotted trunk, and layers of thick branches. 

Your inner child sprang out on your first day when your manager led you to the tree, explaining that your character should mostly keep in a close radius to it. She didn’t have to tell you twice. You were up the tree and swinging casually from the branches in minutes. Some of the other fairy cast members wander the festival, making mischief and spreading glitter. But you’re perfectly content to hang around your tree. 

Of course you’re safe, never climbing too high or swinging too recklessly. You keep a little wooden flute at one hip and your bag of “fairy dust” at the other. Piping out mysterious tunes from up in the tree only to surprise guests who happened along past. If they have children you often toss a handful of sparkling fairy dust down, relishing their squeals of delight. 

Today is Saturday. First Saturday to be exact. First Saturday is always the busiest, or at least that’s what the returning cast members have been telling you. First Saturday always falls on the first weekend when schools are closed for the summer, so the families turn out in droves. You likely won’t get a real break today; it’s all hands on deck. 

You lean against the trunk of the old fairy tree, one arm hugged as far around it as you can. You’re only about ten feet up, but it feels like you’re part of the forest. A breeze rustles the leaves, bright and green for the start of summer. You close your eyes gently. In the distance you hear a horn sound and a wave of cheers rise up, carried by the breeze. 

Afternoon tournament already? The day has flown by. Cast members don’t get to have any modern technology on hand while performing, so you tend to gauge the time by the schedule of festivities. Afternoon tournament started at two. You’d been up in the tree since lunchtime. The tournaments, which include jousting, sword fighting, and axe throwing, pull the biggest crowds. Meaning smaller attractions got a bit of a break. 

Carefully you slide down to sit, resting your back against the trunk and balancing your legs horizontally along the length of the branch. You breathe in deeply, just listening for the familiar sounds of the tournament. 

“Dad, look!” The whisper-shout of a young boy pulls you away from the quiet, but your first glance at the boy’s father nearly fells you from your perch. Tall, dark, and built like one of the festival’s knights. He’s focused on his phone, typing furiously. The boy tugs at his father’s sleeve, trying very hard not to look away from you, as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

“What is it, Henry?” It isn’t sharp, just distracted, offhanded, but the bassy richness of the man’s voice sends a flutter to your chest. 

“There’s a lady up in the tree! Look!” You smile down at the boy, Henry, leaning forward a bit so that the iridescence of your wings catches the light, and you wave. The dad glances up briefly from his phone only to do a double take.  

“Hail and well met, gentlemen!” You called, pitching your voice up and putting on your character’s fairy accent. “Ye wouldn’t happen to be lost would ye?” 

Henry is quick to speak up, “My dad is trying to get a good phone signal!” The dad’s face turns a ridiculous shade of pink, his expression sheepish and embarrassed. You giggle, swinging your legs over the side of the branch so they dangle. 

“I dunno what that is, young lad, but perhaps he’d have better luck with a carrier pigeon?” One of the top rules was to always stay in character. No talking about modern life. Immersion is key and after all you’re here to make magic. But Henry seems confused.

“You don’t know what a phone signal is? Don’t you have a phone?” Ah so he’s one of those smart kids. Before you can say anything, Henry’s father cuts in.

“She’s a fairy, Henry, look. Fairies don’t have phones.” The dad explains, gently. His voice is practiced, as though he has to explain a lot to his son. You nod along with him, crossing your ankles and propping your chin on your hand. 

“Aye, he’s right!” You chime in, “And you two look like . . . hmmm.” You scrunch your face in consternation for a moment. “Ah! I know! A knight and his squire?” You point from father to son.

Henry starts to laugh and his father smiles, looking from you to his son and back. 

“Yes! Young squire Henry and the brave knight Sir . . .” You trail off, gesturing towards the boy’s father. 

“Charlie,” He finishes, holding your gaze steadily. You feel your grin widen and you tilt your head, reminding yourself to stay in character. 

It’s not like flirting with guests is discouraged; actually, it’s almost expected of most fairy cast members. You’ve just never been caught off guard like this before. Something about this man, Charlie, sends your heart racing. Perhaps because he seems far too dashing for a dad, or maybe it’s how quickly he is willing to play into the immersion of your job. 

“So the brave knight, Sir Charlie, and young squire Henry find themselves at the Fairy Tree.” You slide yourself over to the trunk and begin climbing down, using the little foot and hand holds nailed into the tree. “Trying to relay a message with no luck?” 

When you reach the ground, Henry bolts over to you. “Why didn’t you just fly down?” 

You crouch down to his height. “Flying for me is like running for you. It’s so exhausting!” 

Henry nods, understanding, and looks back over his shoulder at his dad, still standing a ways back. Charlie smiles at the two of you before glancing back at his phone. 

“My dad is trying to send a picture of me to my mom.” There it is. You feel something in your chest sink a little. You should’ve expected it really. Hot dad and cute kid? There has to be a mom somewhere in the picture. Henry, unaware that his simple statement shook you, continues on. “She lives in LA, but I get to come see my dad every month. He likes to take me to do things like this.” Oh, hot divorcee dad. 

“And what have ye done around the festival today, young lad?” You actually smile as Henry carries on in that childlike way, just talking. Simple statements. Pouring out their day for you. 

The two of you plop down to the forest floor. Henry absentmindedly plays with the grass and pebbles. You pluck a couple of clovers from the grass and begin stringing them together. Usually the fairies are encouraged to tell stories to the children, but this particular child seems happy to tell you the story of his day. Henry is just finishing up recounting how they had eaten turkey legs and french fries for lunch when his dad approaches. 

“I’m surprised to see such an adventurous pair missing the tournament,” You remark, handing Henry the bracelet of clovers you had woven while he was talking. “But I’m glad to hear your stories, young Henry.” 

“There’s a tournament?” Henry’s eyes light up as you slip into your role, telling him all about the lore of the festival.

“Why of course, young Henry! Every sixth day the King holds tournaments where our bravest and strongest knights may show their skill! There’s sword fighting and jousting and horses, and of course all the fair maidens of the kingdom come as well!” You try to avoid looking up at Charlie, squatting down beside his son, for fear of stumbling over your words. “The fairy folk like me perform great songs and dances for the royal court, and all the guests like you cheer and awe at all the talent!”

Henry is hanging on your every word, completely frozen and enraptured in your performance. 

“Unfortunately for you, the tournament for today is probably just finishing up.” Seeing the boy’s face start to sink with disappointment you add, “But! After the tournament the fairy folk will lead a parade back to this very tree and we’ll tell stories! There’s always a bit o’ music with our stories. I play this!” You pull your flute from its slot on your belt and hold it up for Henry, whispering your next sentence. “If you and Sir Charlie aren’t in a rush, I suggest you stick around, the parade should be arriving any minute now.” 

“Can we stay, dad?” Henry turns excitedly towards his father, eyes still wide. Charlie’s face breaks into a full grin that goes all the way to his eyes which crinkle at the corners. A noticeable dimple also appears on his cheek. Stay in character, you have to remind yourself. 

“Of course, honey, if you want to.” Charlie places a hand gently on his son’s back. 

It seems as though Charlie’s about to say something to you, but before he can you’re overtaken by the sound of jingling bells, flutes, and footsteps crunching along the dirt path. 

“The parade!” Henry scrambles to his feet, turning in the direction of the noise. 

You catch Charlie’s gaze as you both move to stand up as well. He mouths a silent “Thank you.” You smile and give him a wink, lifting your flute to your lips. Moving quickly, you dance back to the tree and climb up to hang by one hand from one of the handholds nailed into the trunk. The tune of your flute matches up with the commotion coming up the path. 

At least once a day, a large group arrives at the Fairy Tree led by cast members like yourself. It’s part of the job, performing like that. So why are you so nervous? 

The parade rounds the forest bend, finally coming into sight. Two fairy cast members lead the group, one with a tambourine, the other a pan flute. A dozen or so children are close behind with a couple more fairies mixed in. Bemused parents and adult stragglers make up the rear. 

“Aha!” The performer with the tambourine, halts the parade and points to you. “Kind guests and members of the parade, this is our sister Dewdrop!”

You hop back down to the ground, lowering your flute, and slip into the loose script that formed around storytime each day. “Are we to tell these fine folks a story today, Evergreen?”

And with your line, you settle. This is just your job. You do this every day. Every day there’s a new story. Every day there’s a new crowd. 

You and the other fairies sit the little ones down on “toadstool” seats while the adults gather around. Henry choses the seat closest to where you stand, you notice, so you make sure to give him a smile when you can. Like a good actor, you dance your eyes across the crowd, trying to bounce rather than stick to anyone in particular. But.

But you can’t help but get stuck on Charlie. He’s watching you so intently, occasionally glancing down at Henry as he laughs at all the silly jokes and goofs. Today’s story is one about how the king of the festival was trapped and magicked to dance for eternity by the trickster pixies until a kind hearted fairy saved him. The stories are always a bit silly like that. 

When you and the other fairies take your final bow, all conducting the children in a chorus of “The end!” and tossing handfuls of fairy dust, you make eye contact with Charlie again. Everyone is clapping politely. He’s smiling at you. You hold his gaze for just one second longer. He’s the first to look away, clearing his throat and raising his gaze to the treetops. You barely have time to process what just happened before Henry is tugging at your skirt. 

“You didn’t tell me your name is Dewdrop!” He exclaims, somehow still thriving off of the high energy of the show. 

You giggle, dropping down to his level. “You never asked, young Henry!” 

“That’s a funny name.” He scrunches his nose in such an innocent way you can’t help but smile. 

“Well all the fairies are named a bit differently than you humans.” You explain, “We’re given names that connect us to nature and-” 

“Wait a second!” Henry interrupts and suddenly runs over to his dad. 

They converse softly for a moment, Charlie leaning down so Henry can whisper in his ear. Charlie seems to be thinking hard about whatever his son is saying. He flicks his eyes over to you for what seems like a millisecond, you can’t even be sure he did look at you. Then he nods and Henry scampers back over to you. 

“My dad says we can come back tomorrow! I want to see the fighting and the contests like you said!” Your heart seems to stop for a second before you become very aware of it beating in your ears. 

“That - That’s wonderful, young lad!” You shake yourself back to this fantasy that is reality. “You must stop by the tree and say hello then.” You chance a look over at Charlie to find his eyes locked on you. He smiles and gives a slight nod of his head. 

He steps forward reaching for his son’s hand. “Alright, Henry, let’s get going now and let our friend get back to doing … fairy stuff.” Henry’s face scrunches in a way that your years of working around children tell you he’s not thrilled at the idea of leaving. So you swoop in with a little assist. 

“Sir Charlie’s right, young lad.” You take a pinch of fairy dust from the pouch on your belt, “I’ve got official fairy business to attend to around the festival. But here, I’ll give you a bit of parting sparkle so that you’ll shine until we meet again!” With a flourish, you dust Henry’s flower bracelet with the glittery powder. 

That seems to satisfy the young boy as he gives you a toothy grin and turns to leave with a quick “Bye! See you tomorrow!” 

“Well hang on just a second!” You decide to milk this moment a tiny bit more, just for fun. “That’s no way to leave a proper lady! Give us a bow and a fare thee well!” 

Henry looks confused for a second but Charlie elbow’s him lightly. “Like this,” he whispers. He executes a wonderfully low bow, crying out “Fare thee well, Dewdrop! We shall return on the morrow!” in an over the top sort of faux English accent. 

You laugh, fully, almost definitely out of character. That’s when Charlie looks up from his bow, holding your eyes as he rises back up to his full height. After a second, he clears his throat and elbows at Henry again, muttering “Your turn.”

Henry does his best to imitate his father, but his bow is a bit shaky. “Fare thee well, Dewdrop! We shall . . . Dad what is it?” 

“We shall return on the morrow,” Charlie mumbles, failing to conceal a smile. 

“We shall return tomorrow!” Henry finishes and stands back upright. 

As the two of them finally start down the dirt trail you call after them. “Safe travels, Sir Charlie and Squire Henry! T’was a true pleasure that our paths should cross!” 

“Bye!” Henry yells back. 

Charlie looks over his shoulder at you one more time. You wave. He smiles. And then they turn the corner. And they’re gone.