#and the 'Sir' is because he is a knight. I held a knighting ceremony with a real dagger and everything

[hannahdalaney-blog]

Carvings in your skin

Jacaerys x plus-size reader

warnings: none this is an intro to a series!! Confident reader, fem reader.

summary: this goes a little fast but I just wanted to establish a starting chapter. Reader has a knight but it's purely platonic! Pt2

// I just wanna say the old English in not very strong in my writing, and I will make stuff up if I want to because this is a fantasy and I say so😋

"Who?" your voice rang through the room trying your very hardest to remember the name spilled from your mothers lips.

"Jacaerys, the prince. You are to be wed." she adjust herself on her throne.

"To be wed?" you repeat, more to yourself than her. She arranged a whole marriage without you knowing.

"Yes and you will have to live in house Targaryen for the moment, the prince's request." she lowered her head.

"Why can't I stay mother? I am needed here." you couldn't possibly leave your mother alone on the throne. She shakes her head raising it to look you in the eyes.

"You will do as told, you are my only heir." she remained you so often how could you ever forget.

"Yes mother."

Moving to Targaryen house was a rather long feet, servants coming and going. Your personal knight followed you of course his loyalty a needed trait as you enter the dragons den. Everyone knew of the scandal and constant betrayal that goes on in the royal home.

The ceremony was to be held the day you arrive, your mother wanting to make sure you can't run away. Boarding the ship taking you to travel you lean on sir Simon, he's been your knight since you were a bebe.

"Don't worry my princess I've heard he's a good man." he had grown a softness to you. You smile lacing your arm around his armor cover one.

"Thank you Simon, but truthfully he is the least of my worries." you had heard the same as Simon but it was his family that scared you.

Stepping off the ship walking in pace with Simon, holding your head high. Queen Rhaenyra and King Daemon greet you with a rather over the top welcome. She was just as intimidating as you thought her to be the King even more so.

"Thank you my Queen." you lower your head slightly bowing.

"You are to be family, and a Queen yourself." you give a small smile.

"Jacaerys is getting ready for the ceremony." she smiled. King Daemon stayed the same in position eyes wondering around you.

"Who is he?" you didn't think the King would speak making you flinch a little. You follow his eyes to Sir Simon, his look rather offending.

"My knight Sir Simon, your grace" you state plainly waiting for Simon to bow but he doesn't.

"Do you not think our knights can protect you?" when he talked to you it felt like he was looking down at you.

"Of course not, my mother thought it best I have a familiar and trusted person by my side. Seeing as I have to leave my home and mother." you say giving your best crowd pleasing smile.

"Perfectly understandable, let's get you situated." the Queen chimes in taking your hand and pulling you further into the dragons den.

The ceremony was rather long making your feet ache. Prince Jaceary was a nice catch of a man. He was beautiful, his curly raven hair brushing across his shoulders. The black and silver attire complimented his frame and features handsomely. You weren't looking to bad yourself dressed in dark blue and silver.

Before you could snap out of your thoughts he turned to you taking your hands in his. It was the time to kiss and seal the marriage, may the gods save your soul. You didn't wait for him to move as you leaned in squeezeing his hands. His lips were soft against yours his mouth partly open.

You deepen the kiss a little more before pulling back completely. You watched his eyes slowly open and him regain his composer. His face a light pink as you smile at him, he was cute. Maybe your marriage would not be so bad after all.

Everyone gave their congratulations to you, your husband, and mother. The Queen had hosted a feast announcing it with a happy smile. Your feet ached at the thought of having to stand and talk to lord and lady. But at least you sit and eat for the first part of a feast.

Jaceary was glued to your side as much as they would allow him to be. He seemed to have taken a liking to you at least for now. You rushed to finally feel the relief of sitting down in a chair. Flinching at the contact of a hand rested at the small of your back.

"Are you feeling alright?" you look beside you finding a worried husband.

"Yes, just a long ceremony my lord." you smiled as best as you could. He nods shifting his curls toward his face. His hand remind in its spot as he guided you to your seat next to his.

You sigh as you get the relief you have so desperately needed. Though your posture must remain as straight as posable. Many people gave speeches, raised glasses, and shared stories. Your eyes started to drop as the night went on the party never seeming to end.

"You should call it a night my lady." Simon's rough voice made your eyes snap open. Shaking your head you stood up turning to the man covered in amor.

"It would be rude." you smoothed out your dress scanning the room for your betrothed. His mother wanted a word with him slipping his hand from yours he followed her.

"I do not think anyone would mind." you glare a him a little making him shift under your gaze.

"I should find my mother." you stated moving to walk away.

"She went to rest a while ago my lady." she didn't say goodnight? The thought must have slipped her mind as she talked and drunk as the sun long passed.

"Why would-" the Queen and prince interrupt you.

"I'm sorry my friends but the night has come to an end!" she announced. Your angelic husband makes his way to you smiling widely. What could have made him so happy?

"Let us rest my love." you blush slightly but nod letting him guide you to your chambers. Simon followed behind keeping a respectable distance. As you approached the door you turned in Jacearys loose grasp.

"Simon make sure to look after my mother tonight, she seemed to enjoy the wine." he nods biding you a goodnight.

Your body slumped as you saw the bed, your so tired. A whole day of moving and being wed have made you rather loopy. Plopping down on the bed you sighed. Jacearys closed the door an amused smile graced his face.

"Straight to bed then?" you look up him. Right it was your first night together.

"I'm sorry my prince but I do not think it would be enjoyable at the moment." you mumble a few words slurred. He blushes and shakes his head.

"No I just meant you should get undressed first." you nod standing back up.

He helped you out of your dress while you tried to keep yourself upright. The embarrassment will kill you when you wake but for now you let him undress you. You sighed in contentment as he laid you down.

"I should go.." his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Why? we are already wed." your eyes closed mouth hung slightly open.

He stays silent but you can hear him undressing. You wanted to take a look but chose against it. The bed dipped with his weight and you felt his warmth even though he wasn't touching you.

Tomorrow would bring a new day of adjusting to the dragons den.

[azuraaass]

The Knight’s Dance – Part Six: A Promise at Dusk

Content: Lewis Hamilton x reader in a Bridgerton way - fluff

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI

The rain had stopped sometime after tea.

The gardens sparkled, each leaf and blossom jeweled with droplets, the world clean and hushed as though holding its breath.

They stood by the fountain now — the same marble basin where they had once spoken of cages and freedom, where he had first looked at her not like a curiosity, but like an equal.

Sir Hamilton wore no sword, no medals, no uniform. Just a navy coat, collar slightly askew, as though he’d dressed in haste, impatient for something more important than appearances.

She watched him approach across the gravel, her skirts swaying with the breeze, her pulse louder than the birdsong overhead.

“I didn’t bring a ring,” he said when he reached her. “Because anything I could place on your finger would only echo what you already are — rare, stubborn, sharp as firelight.”

She tilted her head. “You intend to propose without a ring, Sir?”

“I intend to propose with truth.”

He took her hand. Not with showmanship — but with certainty.

“You once said you write women who choose their own paths. And I have no wish to rewrite your story. I only ask to walk beside you as you live it. No constraints. No silencing. No pretending that you should be smaller than you are.”

Her throat ached with the weight of it.

“I’m not asking for a perfect life,” he continued, voice lower now. “We’ll argue. We’ll grieve. The world may not take kindly to us, to what we are — but I swear this: I will never make you doubt your worth. Not once. Not ever.”

She laughed — not because it was funny, but because it was true, and her chest couldn’t contain the feeling any other way.

“And if I say yes?” she asked, a mischievous light in her eyes.

“Then I will consider myself the luckiest bastard alive.”

“Good,” she said, stepping closer. “Because I was going to say yes either way.”

He exhaled — a breath that sounded like it had been held for months. And when he kissed her, it was not a lover’s kiss. It was something older. Deeper. The kind of kiss that seals oaths in the marrow.

⸻

They married in the rose garden.

Not under a canopy of silk, but beneath the boughs of the great elm that had witnessed generations. The guests were few: her father, quiet and dignified; Lady Danbury, amused and weeping all at once; and a few friends brave enough to believe in love that did not wait for permission.

She wore no veil. Only a crown of white heather — for protection, for strength, for stubborn hope.

When they spoke their vows, it was not a ceremony. It was a conversation. He vowed patience. She vowed wildness. He promised respect. She promised laughter. And both promised choice — the right to become, and to keep becoming, together.

[noosayog]

[IT'S ALWAYS BEEN YOU] - ft. knight! iwaizumi hajime

warnings/content: princess! reader x knight/personal guard! iwa, royal au, arranged marraige, angst. One more after this!

wc: 2.1k

part 5. directory here.

--

With Hajime gone, the days fly by. Before you know it, the wedding is set to take place in a week. Your family will be arriving in a few days and will stay to attend the ceremony to be held in the Nekoma castle. There’s no need for you to lift a single finger. Your dress, itinerary, dinner, guest list were all prepared by the maids in the manor. And that was fine because this is not the wedding you always fantasized about anyway. There is no use in stressing over the details. 

What you are excited for, however, is seeing your older brother again. While all the knights and courtesans in Nekoma are kind, you miss your family. 

And despite your father’s brutishness, you do miss him. After the union, you know your opportunities to see him will be few and far in between.

And it goes without saying, but your sore heart aches for your knight. Iwaizumi may have broken your heart, but you would be lying if you said you did not miss him. You have already long resigned to the fact that you will love him forever, silly as that may be. At least once an hour, he double crosses your mind and the next 10 minutes will be spent thinking of him, a deadly mix of daydreaming about his smile and bracing yourself to keep it together when you see him again.

Thus, the days are spent lounging alone in the gardens with a cup of tea and untouched pastries. Sir Kenma and Sir Kai have long given up on checking in on you when the faraway look glazes over your eyes. Most of them, sharp and cunning, have seen right through you, knowing of your feelings for your ex-personal knight. They used to sit with you to keep you company, but that does little to soothe the loneliness that seeps through your bones. So they have learned to give you space. After all, they have the rest of this lifetime to get to know their future queen. The days go by in a blur and before you know it, the day of your family’s arrival comes.

You expect a summon to dinner that night, but none comes. You arrive at the dining room as you do every night and find it completely empty save for some of the maids. When you ask about the Aoba Johsai entourage and the usual Nekoma attendees, the maids only shake their heads. You have dinner alone and wander through the halls in hopes of running into some familiar faces, but the castle hallways are silent and empty. After a dragged out tour of the entire building, including the outdoor gardens, you reluctantly give up on your search. 

Much to your disappointment, the next two days pass similarly. With the exception of Prince Kuroo having breakfast with you, the only human interaction you receive is from the servants. And with that, the day of your wedding arrives. 

~•~ 

The morning greets you with bright sun and beautiful weather, blue skies and not a cloud in  sight, perfect for an early summer wedding. Strangely, not a single maid disrupts your sleep, even after the additional half hour you spend lounging in bed. You decide to get up to find some breakfast and hopefully some company. 

When you push your bedroom door open, two familiar figures standing guard on either side of your doorway turn to face you.  

“Slept in on your big day, eh, Princess?” the first one teases. 

“Pretty heartless of you,” the second one jokes. 

“Mattsun! Makki!” you exclaim, wrapping each of them in a hug. “What are you two doing here?” 

They chuckle warmly, patting you on the back and reciprocating the embrace. 

“We’re here to be your escorts before it’s time to prepare for the ceremony,” Sir Hanamaki explains. 

“Shall we have breakfast in the garden today?” Sir Matsukawa offers.

“Where’s Toru and my parents? Am I not going to see them before the wedding?” 

“‘Fraid not, Princess. They’ve been busy dealing with some diplomatic shit apparently,” Hanamaki responds carelessly. 

“Makki!” you exclaim at his inappropriate language. You have missed that. 

“You’ll see them soon enough,” Matsukawa covers. “Well?” he prompts, offering you a crooked elbow. 

You slip either arm through each of their proffered elbows and practically skip your way to the gardens.  

Breakfast is a pleasant affair as the two catch you up on things you have missed at home. They go through a list of people and their respective updates, including your Father, Mother, Toru, Kindaichi, Kunimi, and all the others. 

They tactfully keep Iwaizumi off the list and while you are undeniably curious, it may just be better off not knowing. It may even be better that he does not come to the wedding at all. You keep those thoughts to yourself. 

After breakfast, they escort you straight back to your room after turning down your request to take a walk in the gardens.

“No can do, Princess.” Matsukawa declines.

“Don’t want you to run into any surprises, you know?” Hanamaki says cryptically. 

Once back in your room, you’re left again to your own devices until lunchtime. At exactly noon, a knock sounds at your door. Without waiting for your permission, the door opens and you are greeted by another face you have missed dearly. 

“Toru!” you exclaim, running over to your brother to tackle him in a hug. 

He lets out a grunt as he catches the impact of your body, giving you an easy spin before setting you back down. 

“Why haven’t I seen you since you’ve arrived?” 

“I’m sorry. There’s been some… situations I have needed to deal with since arriving.” 

He puts a strange emphasis on situations, but you do not question it. After all, diplomatic matters have always been more of Toru’s responsibility than yours.

“I wish we had more time to catch up,” your brother says, “but I have to ask you some questions now.” His eyes show a seriousness unbefitting of your whimsical brother, his voice solemn. 

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly. 

“I need to know if you still love Iwaizumi after all this time.” 

You recoil at the question, surprised by the question and baffled by the relevance of the topic at this stage. 

“Don’t think about anything else. Just be honest with me, as my little sister whose happiness I wish for. Be honest with yourself.”  

“Yes,” you whisper. “I do still love him, and I think I always will. You may not know but Prince Kuroo and I… we agreed to…” you trail off, not sure how to explain the situation in a way that will not upset your brother. 

He surprises you by nodding in understanding. “I know. I know what you and the Prince agreed to. And don’t,” he pauses a bit here, as if searching for the correct words. 

“Don’t overthink what I’m about to ask, okay?” 

You nod. 

“If you had the chance, would you still want to be with Iwa? Forget all the circumstances. Do you still long to be with him?” 

Your answer is easy. A tear escapes your eyes as you respond, “if he and I could simply exist as ourselves, and not as our titles, then yes. I do.”

Your brother smiles then. He gives you one more hug and something about the look in his eyes tells you not to ask anymore questions. You return his embrace, allowing yourself to cry silently in his arms. You don’t know how long the two of you stand there like that, only separating when another knocks sounds at the door. 

It’s the maids, ready to prepare you for the ceremony.

Toru releases you, holding both of your shoulders steady. He leans down, face-to-face with you. “Don’t lose faith,” he says quietly, wiping the swiping tears from your cheeks. 

~•~ 

When Toru leaves, the maids enter, but instead of the Nekoma maids you have become accustomed to, it is your old maids and good friends, Rose and Marie. 

They are quick to gather you into a tight embrace, exclaiming about how you have lost weight and mildly reprimanding you for crying your eyes swollen on such a big day. 

With little time to catch up, they prepare you, adorning you with ribbons, flowers, and jewelry, all while chattering away in their comforting voices. When you slip into your dress and finally see yourself in the mirror, a strange calm washes over you. The same calm that has developed in the days you spent daydreaming in the Nekoma gardens. The same calm that covers your consciousness in a blissful haze. The same calm that makes you feel like you are looking at someone else in your body. 

It’s only as Rose and Marie join you on either side, admiring you through the mirror with tears in their eyes that you blink back into the moment. 

“You are so beautiful, Princess,” Rose sniffles.

“We are so proud of you,” Marie adds. 

You smile at them, fighting the urge to cry again and ruin all their hard work. 

“And remember,” they say. “You are destined for happiness. No matter how this day ends. Now, you must go, Princess.” 

This day has been nothing short of cryptic messages, but they are right. Outside, the sun is just beginning to lower itself onto the horizon and the sunset is a summon for you to be at the Grand Hall. You give your friends one last hug and a whispered “thank you,” before making your way out. 

~•~ 

At your arrival, the large double doors open to reveal an intricately decorated setup, but sparsely filled. The number of attendees is incredibly few for a wedding of royal caliber. As practiced, you walk down the aisle, vision blurred by the veil covering your face. When you arrive at the front of the room, Prince Kuroo is not at the altar, as he was during the practice sessions. And instead of an ordained priest behind the altar, your father and Queen Kuroo stand in that place. You see the monarchs of each kingdom holding their stern expressions, but as you meet your fathers gaze through your veil, you see a kind look in his eyes, one you have not seen since you were a child. He gives you a small nod and in spite of your confusion, you proceed.

Your destination is on the small elevated stage by the altar. You take the 2 small steps up, dragging the train of your dress behind you and turn around to face the guests. As you finally get a good glimpse of all the attendees, you notice that Hajime is nowhere in sight. On the Nekoma side of the hall, the first chair closest to the stage is vacant. You are not sure who is missing from the Nekoma side save for your absent fiance. 

The first to speak is Queen Kuroo, as you hear her begin to announce her son. 

“Announcing: Representative of the Royal Family Kuroo, Prince of Nekoma, and future heir to the throne, my son, Kuroo Testuro.” 

At the very end of the hall, the curtains are drawn and you see the Prince enter, walking down the same carpet you did just moments ago. However, instead of alighting the steps to join you on stage, he stands on the ground directly in front of you. He does not turn around to face the guests. You give him a questioning look and he just grins like he knows something you do not, though it seems more and more like everyone knows something about today that you do not. 

Next, you hear your father clear his throat. His next words make you turn your back to the audience to make sure you hear him correctly. 

“Announcing: Captain of the Aoba Johsai Royal Order of Knights,” 

Your breath catches. 

“And future heir to the Dukedom of the Iwaizumi estate, Iwaizumi Hajime.” 

 You swivel around abruptly enough that your veil slides out of position. Your obscured vision only sees a flurry of motion at the end of the hall. You see the curtain at the back of the hall pulled back to reveal a figure you dare not register as familiar, though it is one that you have watched and chased after for as long as you remember. Your vision grows hazy and you don’t know if it’s tears or the veil. So you pull the veil right off, not trusting your covered eyes. 

At the other end of the carpet, is Iwaizumi Hajime, not in his usual armor, but dressed in formal attire, not unlike Prince Kuroo’s. His eyes are trained intensely on yours. Something in the way he looks at you, walks to the altar, and takes your hands tells you that he is not here to simply watch. He is here for you.

[justforbooks]

Sir Roger George Moore,

KBE (14 October 1927 – 23 May 2017) was an English actor. He was the third actor to portray fictional secret agent James Bond in the Eon Productions/MGM Studios film series, playing the character in seven feature films: Live and Let Die (1973), The Man with the Golden Gun (1974), The Spy Who Loved Me (1977), Moonraker (1979), For Your Eyes Only (1981), Octopussy (1983), and A View to a Kill (1985). Moore's seven appearances as Bond are the most of any actor in the Eon-produced entries.

On television, Moore played the lead role of Simon Templar, the title character in the British mystery thriller series The Saint (1962–1969). He also had roles in American series, including Beau Maverick on the Western Maverick (1960–1961), in which he replaced James Garner as the lead, and a co-lead, with Tony Curtis, in the action-comedy The Persuaders! (1971–1972). Continuing to act on screen in the decades after his retirement from the Bond franchise, Moore's final appearance was in a pilot for a new Saint series that became a 2017 television film.

Moore was appointed a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador in 1991 and was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II in 2003 for services to charity. In 2007, he received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for his contributions to the film industry. He was made a Commander of the Order of Arts and Letters by the French government in 2008.

Moore was appointed Commander of the Order of the British Empire (CBE) in the 1999 New Year Honours and was promoted to Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire (KBE) in the 2003 Birthday Honours for charitable services, especially UNICEF and latterly Kiwanis International, which had dominated his public life for more than a decade. On being knighted, Moore said that the citation "meant far more to me than if I had got it for acting... I was proud because I received it on behalf of UNICEF as a whole and for all it has achieved over the years".

On 11 October 2007, three days before he turned 80, Moore was awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for his work on television and in film. Attending the ceremony were family, friends, and Richard Kiel, with whom he had acted in The Spy Who Loved Me and Moonraker. Moore's star was the 2,350th star installed, and is appropriately located at 7007 Hollywood Boulevard.

On 28 October 2008, the French government appointed Moore a Commander of the Ordre des Arts et des Lettres. On 21 November 2012, Moore was awarded an honorary doctorate from the University of Hertfordshire for his outstanding contributions to the UK film and television industry for over 50 years, in particular film and television productions in Hertfordshire.

After his death, the Roger Moore Stage was opened at Pinewood Studios at a ceremony held in October 2017 to celebrate his life and work. His wife and family were in attendance along with Bond producers Michael G Wilson and Barbara Broccoli, and guests at the event included Joan Collins, Michael Caine, Stephen Fry, Tim Rice and Stefanie Powers.

In the 2018 film My Dinner with Hervé, Moore was portrayed by actor Mark Umbers.

Moore became a tax exile from the United Kingdom in 1978, originally to Switzerland, and divided his year between his four homes: an apartment in Monte Carlo, a holiday house in the coastal Tuscan town of Castiglione della Pescaia, a chalet in Crans-Montana, Switzerland, and a home in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, France. Moore became a resident of Monaco, having been appointed a Goodwill Ambassador of Monaco by Prince Albert II for his efforts in internationally promoting and publicising the principality. Moore was scathing of the Russian population in Monaco, saying, "I'm afraid we're overstuffed with Russians. All the restaurant menus are in Russian now."

Moore was vocal in his defence of his tax exile status, saying that in the 1970s, with taxes levied on top earners under the Labour government of James Callaghan, he had been urged by his "accountants, agents, and lawyers" to move abroad because, "At that point we were taxed up to 98% on unearned income, so you would never be able to save enough to ensure that you had any sort of livelihood if you didn't work." Moore said in 2011 that his decision to live abroad was "not about tax. That's a serious part of it. I come back to England often enough not to miss it, to see the changes, to find some of the changes good...I paid my taxes at the time that I was earning a decent income, so I've paid my due".

✔ Roger Moore is contentiously credited with inspiring the Walls Magnum ice cream. In the 1960s, he reportedly said that his one wish would be for a choc ice on a stick. Walls created this product and sent one to Moore. They later launched the Magnum in 1989, which is now the world's top-selling ice cream brand.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[webnovel-deluxe]

Isn't Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? Side Story Chapter 10

I also upload this chapter in my YouTube channel read there to support my effort, to read click here 👉Link

You have come to me to solve a problem with the holy thing, and it would be difficult to ask if I only emphasized my pure heart.

“I like the scent of tea because the Pope is so worried about me that he even comes to the capital.”

I said with a face as docile as possible. To make it even more gritty.

“Yeah… Hmmmm! But, Lady.”

“Yes, tell me.”

“I have news that the Apocalypse of Saints must be keenly aware of.”

“News?”

Seeing that he says 'news' instead of 'request', he is a human being with a corner like a squirrel.

“Saint Naila left a great relic to ward off the peculiar darkness more than a thousand years ago, in the early days of the founding of Asteria.”

“Of course I do. Because I am the incarnation of a saint. You are talking about the rosary that the cardinal brought during the incense ceremony, right?”

“Yes. By the way… Something is wrong with that holy thing.”

The white rosary was the most prized in the temple, and was only opened to the outside when the pope personally visited or incense ceremonies. However, there was a problem with the sacred objects in this situation where public sentiment towards the temple was at a low level.

Sooner or later, instead, an annual event will be held in the temple, and the Pope will be very upset because he cannot go out with the holy relic in question.

But I pretended not to know anything, and spoke as the Pope intended.

“Hey, there’s something wrong with my stuff. As the incarnation of a saint, it is not a matter to be overlooked.”

I put down the teacup with a serious look on my face, and stared at the Pope seriously.

“Let’s see the condition of things.”

“Yes! Yes! Saint.”

The pope responded quickly with a reddened face, and I reached out as if to offer something.

“That, that… .”

“What?”

“The color of the rosary beads suddenly started to change slightly, so to prevent discoloration, I put it in holy water with strong deity. So… Excuse me, could you stop by the Dominion of Heleia?”

***

The news of Princess Deborah's sudden departure to Heleia caused a stir in the capital.

Of course, it is natural and common sense for a saint to visit before, at the invitation of the Pope.

“There’s nothing strange about it… .”

When the saint saw all of Princess Deborah, it was somehow awkward. Because it is a feeling that a fancy party venue is much more suitable than the papal court.

It wasn't just that.

“In Seymour, they have assembled an elite team of formidable men to escort Saint.”

“Of course, since it’s a saint, I can understand. The princess is the only one, but Deborah must be strong in the first place, why?”

“I have heard that the saint's divinity is merciless to evil demons, but merciful to men. People are scarier than ghosts, do you know? Whether a man with a bad heart will attack Saint-sama. She should be prepared for that.”

“Even though… Isn’t the power capable of annihilating a small country a bit too severe?”

“How much is it?”

“Once the Duke of Visconti and the Hundred Knights of whom he is the vice-leader all applied as escorts … .”

“In addition?”

“Duke Seymour, the owner of the tower, the elders of the tower, the battle unit of the tower led by Sir Rosa de, Sir Belek with the magic tools for attack… There are others.”

“Hey, stop it. I know you well enough.”

***

In front of the ancient teleport that moved from the capital to the former, the Pope and the priests, who met Princess Deborah and the others, were puzzled for a moment.

The last priests were especially surprised.

‘Gee, is she really a saint?’

I saw it as a portrait, but the real thing of the saint was so cold, I was surprised once and twice by the splendid lineup of the escort.

“He is the fiance of the saint whom I had only heard of… This is the Duke of Visconti.”

“Even the genius twins of the Seymour family… .”

“Isn’t that black-haired swordsman the rise of the sword?”

Famous celebrities that even the priests who live far from the capital are familiar with will go out to escort the saint.

'Are you going to wage a war with the temple?'

The Pope tried to hide his embarrassment.

“So many people follow! You will be amazed by the popularity of the saint. Of course, there are a lot of paladins who will protect the saints in the temple.”

The pope slightly turned around saying that there were too many escorts, but

“These people… I've reduced it to half and half. No more.”

The pope could not vomit any more because Princess Deborah spoke gloomily in a friendly voice somewhere.

“Hmmmm. Shall we leave then?”

After some time, the ancient warp gate carrying the great man came into operation, and Princess Deborah stepped in instead for the first time in her life.

“This magnificent building is the Holy See in the center of the Great Temple. Each piece seems to come to life.”

Thierry looked around the inside of the temple full of magnificent paintings and sculptures with admiration over and over again. After quitting daily gambling, his swordsmanship skills had grown dramatically, and he was barely able to be chosen as Princess Deborah's escort.

“Thieri, do you know that you don't came here for a tour?”

5 The princess bit her tongue when she saw Thierry's frivolous behavior.

“It’s not wrong, but I want you to protect the body of the Asteria nobles.”

"it's okay. The dignity and body of the Asteria nobles are already being protected there.”

Thierry proudly pointed to Isidore walking in the lead.

Instead, all the priests and servants passing through the temple glanced at him with a look of surprise. People who saw Isidor for the first time usually doubted their eyes and would react like that.

“Somehow, it seems to be getting better and better. The body is taller.”

“I wonder if it’s the sign of Epsilon and the flower of the year for nothing.”

“Whoa, even if Isidor looks a little less… ‌.”

“I’m sorry, but even assuming Isidor is a little less handsome… In many ways, you can’t.”

“Even though it looks so light, I was in the middle of healing the wounds of my broken heart, do I have to break even the bones?”

“You’re hot all over again.”

“What?”

“… Do you feel sympathy with you? It's a shame.”

While Thierry and the princess were having a sweet conversation, Isidor was paying close attention to the priests.

The holy relics were discolored, and the princess's divine power was slow to recover. Not a good sign.

If the remnants of the Warlock Mage remain, there was also a stronghold hiding here, pretending to be a priest like Miya Binoshu.

'I have experienced enough of the lesson that it is dark under the lamp...'

“Princess, the Pope isn’t guiding us to a place other than the holy place, is it?”

At Isidor's whisper, Deborah shook her head slightly.

“That's not right.”

Upon arriving here, the memories of Naila, who grew up in the temple in the past, came up again and again.

At the end of this labyrinthine corridor, there will be a sanctuary, a spring of water containing divine powers.

“We are here.”

The Pope, who had been walking for a while, stopped in front of a white marble arched door.

Beyond the door, in the center of the circular room, there was a large sculpture in the shape of Nyla, and below it was a small fountain.

“From here on, only a limited number of people can enter.”

At the Pope's words, Belek raised an eyebrow.

“What is the reason?”

“It is a place where holy water with high purity and divine power springs out, so to prevent external contamination… Lady!?”

That was then.

Suddenly, Princess Deborah passed the huge door and began to make her way towards the center of the room where the relic was located.

“Deborah!?”

***

'In addition… heart... ’

thump-thump

From the moment you discover the rosary contained in holy water, your heart begins to beat wildly like when you were incense burn.

My heart was beating so much that my eardrums hurt, and in front of my eyes, countless afterimages of the past flickered quickly. In the flood of memories, I suddenly felt a door.

How did that rosary elicit such a strong reaction?

‘At the time of incense, I awakened all my strength because of that thing. '

My heart beats like crazy every time I come across that white rosary, and I get caught up in a distant sensation, is it simply because it stimulates memories of my past life?

‘Hey, why are you doing this? '

As if asking a question, I stared at the rosary contained in the holy water.

‘And why did the color change like this?'

At that moment, a faint light began to emanate from the beads of the rosary, which had been dyed with a dull gray color. As if answering my question.

- *Deborah*

uh? I think you just called my name?

'A familiar voice... .'

As if possessed by a voice that seemed to contain sadness, I reached out for it... .

“Ugh!”

The moment I grabbed the smooth marble, a strong light flowed out of the six marbles and gradually began to draw a certain shape.

'no way… Magic circle?'

“sh*t.”

Something feels weird, but it's already too late.

The space around me shook like a wave, and I muttered a curse. The distortion of the space became more and more severe, and before long the floor on which I was standing swung like a swirling sea.

Standing precariously in the distorted space, I instinctively looked back. To find the first man that comes to mind when I sense any danger.

“Deborah!?”

The figure of Isidor calling to me, the dew flowed slowly like a video.

Confused, he came down and quickly grabbed his floundering arm, but soon the space began to distort relentlessly like oil on water, and I was thrown into a strange place.

Support me with like, Comments & share. Your support will encourage me to upload next chapter faster.

[blogdemocratesjr]

Portrait of Henry VIII after Hans Holbein the Younger

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water.

—William Shakespeare, Henry VIII [4.2]

Let us consider, for instance, the origin of the orthodox English denomination, the Anglican Church, to which many people belong; let us seek its external historical origin. Well, we shall find that Henry VIII reigned from 1509 to 1547, and that he had six wives. The first, Catherine of Aragon, was divorced from him and, considered quite externally, this divorce played a great historical role. The second, Anne Boleyn, he beheaded. The third, Jane Seymour, died. The fourth, he divorced. The fifth, Katherine Howard, he also beheaded. Only the sixth survived him and, if one investigates history further, it will be found that that was really only through a sort of mistake! A different fate was planned for her, too. I refer to his somewhat complicated matrimonial history of Henry VIII, who, as stated, reigned from 1509 to 1547, less for its historical content than in order to lead up to a consideration of his character. One can really gain some idea of a person's character if one knows that he has had two wives beheaded, been divorced from a certain number, and so on.

Now, taken purely historically, the divorce of the first, Catharine of Argon, played a definitely significant role; one need only look at two events to see this. The first was that Henry VIII, the Defender of the Faith, as he called himself, that is, of the Catholic faith emanating from Rome, became the opponent of the Pope because he refused to annul the marriage. Henry became the opponent of the Pope, of the Catholic Church issuing its orders from Rome, and simply on his own authority and power separated the English Church from the Roman Catholic Church. Thus, a kind of Reformation took place that was of a quite individualistic nature since the old customs, ceremonies and rituals were preserved. It was not the cause, as it was with the Protestants, that a renewal had been sought from a real spiritual basis and spiritual force. Everything of an ecclesiastical nature was preserved, but the Church in England was to be cut off from the Roman Catholic Church simply because the Pope had refused to sanction Henry VIII's divorce. Thus, in order to obtain a different wife, this man founded a new church for his people that has existed ever since.

So we have the outer historical fact that many millions of people have lived throughout a long period in a religious communion because a king's divorce could only be brought about through his creating this religious body! This a fact of external history. Is it not an absurdity? When one looks at the matter more closely, then another absurdity is added, a real inner absurdity, because it cannot be denied that many thousands of people, since the divorce of Henry VIII and the founding of the English Church, have found really deep, inner religious life within the communion that originated in such a questionable manner. This implies that something can arise in history through a most questionable procedure, and the ensuing fruits can bring—and have, in fact, brought—the greatest inner healing of soul to many thousands of people. One must only follow things to a certain conclusion. As a rule, one skims over things in their development but if one will observe their consequences, it will be clear that, when we look at facts from the point of view that is held today, we arrive at all sorts of absurdities.

—Rudolf Steiner, Inner Impulses of Evolution, The Mexican Mysteries, The Knights Templar: Lecture VII: Henry VIII and Sir Thomas More. The Education of Man through the Materialistic Conception

Be sure to check out Rebecca Lehmann's poem "Flowers with Anne Boleyn", and keep an eye out for her forthcoming novel on Henry VIII.

[telemna-hyelle]

The fact that I have a dad who knows who I'm talking about when I say my doorstop's name means everything to me

[barnesbabee]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ - ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ᴛᴇɴ-  ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST:

White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet @jess-1404 @earth-to-leiki @miraculoustaytiny [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

The King wasted no time. After getting you back, he immediately scheduled the coronation, as he couldn't wait to call you his Queen. The Castle was in a frenzy, the sound little frog feet slapping against the marble floors echoed in every division. Seonghwa refused to have the coronation in the same room where he got married, he didn't want to re-live the awful moment when his wife got stolen from him... So the maids and butlers found new decorations, moved the paintings and transformed another one of the King's dark and cold rooms into a place worthy of a welcoming party.

"Let's do it in the throne room. Place her throne by my right." He had said.

The tradition was for the throne to be moved in front of everyone present, so they could witness the changes and their new reality first hand, but Seonghwa was a little tired of following tradition.

You and him stood in the middle of the throne room, with every single maid and butler running around frantically, trying to get everything done on time. You looked on proudly, enjoying the way it was all coming along.

The excess of red and black was gone, it was now balanced with white and gold, and with the new paintings and lights giving the room a new life it looked like a completely new place. The blinds behind the throne were finally opened, revealing the most beautiful stained glass images. There were four people, who you assumed were Seonghwa's family.

You reminisced the first time you had come to that room, panting and confused, standing in the dark, cold room being judged by the merciless man Seonghwa once was. The contrast was almost unbelievable, but you were glad you had gotten this far.

You felt a pair of arms wrap around your figure and a chin on your shoulder.

"I'll have it replaced. First, just the two of us, and then, once we have our little prince, or princess," he paused, caressing your stomach, where you'd carry your future child "I'll have it replaced once more, with a full picture of our family."

He kissed your cheek and you smiled.

"But Seonghwa, are you sure you wanna take down the picture of your family?" You questioned, feeling honoured yet a little wrong, replacing the original King and Queen.

He stood straight, and his cheerful expression was immediately replaced by one of pain and confusion, remembering all of the memories alongside those people.

"Why not? They have given me nothing but a lifetime of suffering, you have given me nothing but happiness and a chance of redemption. You deserve to be up there, immortalized, as a part of the new Royal family."

"Thank you..."

That was all you could say, as there were no words that could possibly describe how you felt.

One of the maids stole you away from your husband for a second, so you could change from the dirty, ripped-up wedding dress for the new ceremony. She helped you switch to a princess-style dress, all in red silk. The revealing heart-shaped neckline was covered with black lace, that extended all the way to your hands and wrapped around your index finger.

"You look lovely, Miss." The maid said as she fixed your hair.

You thanked her with a small smile and headed towards the throne room. Usually, it would be packed with people, but due to the previous altercation, the only people attending the coronation would be the castle staff, aside from the knights who were assigned to protect the castle during the event.

You carefully sat on the throne, feeling Seonghwa's eyes (or... eye) inspecting you. He leaned over, so he could whisper in your ear.

"You look marvelous in red."

He sat back straight in his throne and smiled at your shy expression. A tall man soon entered the room holding two boxes. He opened one of the boxes and slowly (and carefully) placed the crown on the King's head. It was exaggerated, yet classy and sophisticated like Seonghwa. You could tell it had been specially done for him.

"We shall now begin the coronation of Miss Y/N." The man announced.

He opened the box in front of you, revealing the most beautiful, victorian crown. It was made up of white gold and adorned with the most beautiful red and white stones.

"I hereby declare, by the powers given to me by His majesty Park Seonghwa, the new Queen of Wonderland, Queen Y/N."

The man slowly placed the crown on your head, and it was a perfect fit. He stepped away so the painter could see your smiling faces, as he immortalized the moment on a canvas.

The castle staff smiled and cheered for you, their new Queen.

"Bring her!" The King shouted, and the whole room froze.

The thought on everyone's mind was 'Who's her'.

The heavy doors to the room opened, and a chained woman, dressed in a black cape with her white, disheveled hair showing stepped in, with the help of two guards.

"Unchain her."

The guards obeyed the King, and unchained the woman, who rotated her wrists with a sigh of contentment.

"Finally, what do I owe the honour, Sir?"

The crowd in front of you looked on, petrified. Who the fuck was she?

"Undo the room." Seonghwa commanded.

"Hm there have been some changes, I see." The woman said, her voice cracking mid-sentence.

She looked at you, with her bright purple eyes, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Yes, there have. Now please do as I asked."

"Very well Sir."

The woman removed her black cape, revealing a small, crooked young-looking woman. She lifted her hands in the air, creating a small green fog in her hands, that she aimed at all beings in the room. The people, who were previously humanoid frogs, were turned back into their original form. Tears of happiness formed in everyone's eyes and cries of thankfulness echoed in the room. One maid approached you and knelt by your feet.

"Thank you... Thank you so much!"

You recognized the voice, it was the maid that had thanked you the other day for staying with Seonghwa, and the one that usually helped you dress. You smiled and held her hands.

"No need to kneel around me Miss, thank you for your hard work."

She bowed to you as she walked back to cheer with her peers.

Seonghwa stood up and held out his hand for you to take, and so you followed.

"Iracebeth, follow us. You two," the King said, looking at the two guards who had brought the witch "make sure everyone is gathered at the town center by the time we arrive."

The guards nodded and immediately headed out. Seonghwa took your arm and started walking with you, headed to the town center, you guessed.

You looked behind you to look at the witch, that stared at you with a sinister expression.

"Are you sure it's safe to bring her along, won't she like... curse you? You know, for keeping her locked up?" You whispered.

"Oh, no that won't be an issue."

You tilted your head to the side.

"How come?"

Seonghwa blushed, embarrassed to recall what he had done.

"Well, I tricked her into falling in love with me so I could get her to cast a spell on herself that would only allow her to cast the spells I request her to. I then locked her in the dungeon because I didn't want to deal with her constant crying and blabbering about how I tricked her, that's probably why she's looking at you like..." He glanced over at the witch "... like that."

You hit his arm.

"Park Seonghwa!"

"Ow! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I regret doing it but if I undo it now it could have severe consequences, not only for me but for you too. And we can't have that."

You sighed and nodded. It's true that it was cruel, but you didn't want any consequences headed your way, you'd had enough.

You stopped in front of a black and gold carriage, the one that would take you into town. Seonghwa helped you get on and then sat beside you. The witch rode in front of you, her creepy smile and envious eyes staring into your soul the whole ride. Seonghwa held your hand tightly, also feeling uneasy by her presence.

"We're here, Sir."

Seonghwa took a deep breath. You could tell he was nervous, as all of the people from the Kingdom looked at the carriage, expectantly. You kissed his cheek and held his hand tighter.

"It will be okay." You assured him.

Seonghwa smiled softly and exited the carriage, alongside you and the witch. The expressions of the people once they saw the witch were the same as back in the castle, and they braced for the worst.

The King said nothing, he only turned to the witch and said 'do it'.

Once more, she cast the spell, that supposedly returned them to what they once were, but it didn't go as planned. Some people returned to their original state, but the ones who had turned from animals to humans, not so much... Some had the luck of being completely turned back to who they were, others were left hybrids, mixes of animals and humans. You found Cheshire, still as a human, happily playing with his ears and tail, and Haiga, the Hare, jumping about with his hare feet about the return of his long ears. It didn't take much for those two to be happy. There was a mix of emotions among the crowd, however, some people that had married into families who were previously human, were happy they got some of their old life back and they would still be able to maintain their relationship, others were sad (and mad) that they would never be able to return to whom they once were.

"What happened!?" Seonghwa whisper-yelled to the witch.

"The curse has been cast for far too long, I wasn't able to undo it completely." She explained, ashamed of her own skills.

"People, I apologize," as soon as he spoke those words the commotion calmed down, and everyone seemed shocked. The King? Apologizing? "it seems the curse has gone on for too long and is irreversible in some cases. I ask that whoever has been affected attends the castle tomorrow so I can offer a proper compensation for all of the damages caused, that would be all."

[lorelylantana]

Compulsion

Ao3

This oneshot was inspired by this post by @snooze-zzz

Oneshot rating: G

His father wasn’t happy when Link was called to his office, a scowl etched into his brow. Link stepped in and stood at attention, expecting his father to grumble about some last minute change to the guard’s rotation before assigning him to a troop to fill in the gaps left by such shifts. Link had been knighted only recently, and as the most junior member in his unit he was expected to pick up this sort of slack. Link didn’t mind, a little sleep lost was a small place to pay to quiet that writhing feeling in his chest. It wasn’t silent just yet, but he was getting closer. When his father got up to walk around the room, Link made no move to maintain eye contact, standing at attention. It was a test of sorts, teaching Link to hold his position until told otherwise. It took some practice to tamp down the instinctive urge to turn towards the speaker, but he was getting it. So when his father walked behind him, he thought he was just checking his form.

“Do you think this is a game, son?”  the Captain’s words were cold, dripping with the kind of disappointment that would make any child’s blood freeze. Link’s pulse began to race. His face flushed, but his training held and he stood rooted to the spot.

“Sir?”

“Do you know how many fourteen year old knights there have been in recorded history?”

“One, sir,” Link answered, bracing for a lecture.

“Right, one. You are the only knight to ever be sworn in so young,” his father continued, coming around to face him again. Link almost flinched when he saw the quiet rage in his father’s eyes. This wasn’t going to be the ordinary scolding for being late to the mess hall or having a spot on his armor.

“I had to jump through a lot of hoops for you to be allowed to swear in early. I stuck my head out for you because I had faith in you. You told me you could handle the responsibility and I believed you. I don’t appreciate you dragging my name through the mud with this little stunt and I definitely don’t appreciate you going back on your word.”

Link racked his brain, still completely at a loss to the ‘stunt’ the Captain was referring to. He’d looked after his armor meticulously, arrived early for morning drills, he even took time out of his break to have a barber crop his hair to match Hyrule’s military regulation, leaving his neck uncovered for the first time in years.

Then again, he did break one of the sparring dummies yesterday, a swing of a sword that landed a bit too hard. The drill sergeant laid into him for that, sending him to run laps while everyone else got a water break.

“I can fix the dummy, sir.”

That was the wrong thing to say apparently, because when his father’s face contorted even further. The Captain shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You knew perfectly well that tattoos visible in uniform aren’t allowed, let alone one blatantly disrespecting the royal family, so what possessed you to undermine the sacrifices made to get you here?”

Link’s hands were shaking behind his back. He couldn’t remember the last time his father was so angry with him, and he still had no idea what he was being reprimanded for. He didn’t get a tattoo as far as he remembered, and he didn’t drink, so it wasn’t a memory lost to wine. 

Justified or not, the Captain’s anger stung after Link tried so hard to uphold the high standard his father held him to. He had been proud to meet that standard, but it was hard to hold his head high when his captain and his father looked at him with such disappointment, whatever the reason turned out to be. He felt his face heat with shame and his throat close. 

The Captain sighed when his son failed to answer, and Link knew that he had fallen in his father’s eyes, and that thought alone was enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, his knight’s countenance cracking at long last, “What did I do?”

His father shook his head, refusing to look him in the eye, “If you can’t be honest and own up to your own actions, then I have to put you on probation. Pack your backs and come back when you’re ready to stop treating the knight’s oath like a joke.”

Link saluted, maintaining his silence in a desperate attempt to regain his composure, though he couldn’t stop a few childish tears from leaking out in what would be his last show of emotion for a very long time.

The sun was setting as Link started down the road south to Castle Town where he’d stay the night, wondering what he’d tell his mom. His stomach twisted in dread. He didn’t want to see the inevitable disappointment on his mother’s face. He still didn’t know what he’d done wrong, but whatever it was had to be so obvious that any denial would read as insubordination, so he doubted she would believe any defense he could muster.

He wanted to scream that he didn’t think knighthood was a joke. In truth he wouldn’t even consider it an ambition. He supposed it was an instinct, if anything. Perhaps it was because he was the son of the Captain of the Royal Guard, but that answer tasted wrong in his mind, like it was far too trivial an explanation for the growling dissatisfaction in his chest. 

He’d always had fun swinging the wooden swords his father brought home when he was small, but time and again Link would be overtaken by some deep set sense of urgency to learn and hone any skill he could use in battle. He would be seated at the dinner table or doing his chores when something that tasted like an elegant, tempered version of panic would consume him and demand he rush outside to practice his sword forms. His mother scolded him for it at first, but couldn’t bring herself to reprimand him after she saw how distraught he would be if she stopped him, so she left him be, only calling him in if it was bedtime or if he scraped a knee.  If he couldn’t find a sword, he’d pick up a broom and pretend it was a spear, or he’d make a claymore out of an iron hammer. He’d go hunting even though he’d have to drag a buck along on the ground because he was too small to carry it himself because standard targets simply wouldn’t cut it. Anything he could use to practice he would.

At first it was just repeating basic swings and perfecting technique, but after a few years passed there chime began to sound in the distance when he took up his arms, and soon after that ring grew into words reverberating in his head. At first, Link had thought the voice, ancient and vaguely feminine, was that of the Goddess. He didn’t think that now though. She, if the voice was, in fact, a she, felt isolated, personal. Link had the distinct impression that the voice was interested in him and him alone, and he didn’t think the White Goddess Hylia would play favorites, least of all with him. There was no praise or scorn from the voice, only instruction flavored with an odd sort of affection that felt older and steadier than the land itself, and Link, still driven by a baseless devotion, did as he was told. 

When she told him to hone his agility by shadow sparring on a fence, he obeyed. When she told him to climb Mount Floria to strengthen his body and spirit he obeyed. And when he was told to visit the Spring of Courage to pay homage to his predecessors he obeyed, whoever they may be. Then old and forgotten combat arts were whispered in his ear, and Link began to fight unlike any man or beast in thousands of years. 

It wasn’t long after that his father returned to Hateno on leave and took note of his progress. The Captain made a blithe comment that Link could hold his own against a royal guard, and once again the urgency rose, not to take up arms, but to head towards Hyrule Castle. He’d begged and pleaded with his father, swearing up and down that he would uphold the knight’s standard both in and out of combat, the voice reassuring him all the while.

When he was sworn to Hyrule’s service and he settled into the Military Training Camp the voice quieted down. He felt a tad lonesome without her, though he didn’t miss the mind numbing sensation so close to terror that always preceded her voice. It had been relaxing to train and talk and go about his life without a sense of foreboding shadowing his every action. He was where he needed to be.

As he walked further and further south he could feel it growing again, pulling him back the way he came. Link thought back to his childhood, wondering when this feeling, so much like a sickness, first came to him. Now that he thought on it, he was quite certain the first taste of this compulsion came to him at the late Queen’s funeral. 

Yes, he remembered it clear as day. He had been outside the cathedral in Castle Town bearing lilies on his family’s behalf, since his father was guarding the ceremony and his mother had taken ill that day. Once the priestesses had concluded their rite there was a bid for all those in attendance to leave their offerings if they so wished, and when it was Link’s turn to approach the coffin he caught sight of Princess Zelda.

She was so small, smaller than he was, and though no tears fell Link saw her quivering ever so slightly. The sight of her green eyes and sun bright hair was so familiar even though he’d never seen anything like it. She looked up to meet his gaze, and within her green eyes Link found a fleeting epiphany tinged with nostalgia. In that moment Link could feel something deep within the earth beginning to rumble awake, dark and devastating. He’s certain that’s where his fixation began, and after years of contemplation he deemed the swell in his chest at the sight of her protective, though the nature of such devotion was lost on him. 

Link had come up on Hyrule Cathedral then. He stood there a moment, wondering if he should seek Hylia’s guidance before heading on his way. Who knows, perhaps the voice would return to him and give him an objective to work towards, something to drown out the devastation in his chest.

“You are not to leave that spot until dawn breaks, Zelda. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

And there she was again, all snow white and burning gold in the light of the setting sun. He could see her glowing faintly in the firelight of the torches around her, kneeling in the middle of the Cathedral’s garden to pray. Possessed, he stepped closer to the wrought iron fence that separated them, drawn to her like a moth to any warm, bright light.

 It had been years since he’d seen her shaking at the loss of her mother, but she somehow looked more hopeless and alone kneeling there in the grass. That observation tore at him, momentarily eclipsing his own desolation. In that instance Link wanted to be there by her side, if only to provide a moment’s reprieve from the storm they were trapped in.

His wish struck through him light a flash of lightning as though granted by a higher power.

Link spun around on the street and walked right back to the gate, retracing his steps, though he had no intention of returning to the Military Camp. He didn’t know where he intended to go, only that there was a white hot tether curled around his heart and soul dragging him back north, relentless and daunting. 

He walked on into the night, after the people of Hyrule settled in to sleep and doused the fires lighting his way. The darkness mattered little, because whatever drove Link’s feet, it wasn’t his sight. He walked past the Camp he’d left not hours before, keeping out of the nightwatch’s range. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he didn’t need interruptions, and the guard would just get in his way. No one entered the Lost Woods without a death wish, at least, not before tonight. The fog of the ancient forest was potent, laced with an old magic, but it parted for Link, yielding to a more powerful, primordial force. It was a familiar feeling, Link realized as he passed between two seas of swirling white. He could hear her chime as she led him into the warmth of the Korok Forest. He didn’t hesitate to walk up to the sword where it lay in stone. The massive tree before him began to shift, but Link paid it no mind as he took hold on the blade and pulled. 

The blade came free effortlessly, but Link tumbled back, overtaken by visions of death and destruction and ruin.

He’d heard whispers of a fabled apocalypse brewing beneath the land, but Link hadn’t listened too closely. They were only rumors, inconsequential when compared to the mind consuming drive to become a better warrior. Link had trained himself for years, mastering every weapon he could find, all in preparation to wield this sacred blade of evil’s bane.

But it wasn’t enough. It was nowhere near being enough to stop the horrors the voice in his blade spoke to him of. 

Link didn’t return home after that. He couldn’t, because he knew that if he faced his father and mother just once he would break down, and that wasn’t an option anymore. He needed every hour he could get, and with the Calamity looming over the horizon he couldn’t justify something so selfish. He had to protect the Princess, he had to protect all of Hyrule, and weak as he was now he didn’t stand a chance. With the blessing of the Great Deku Tree he remained in Korok Forest, learning skill after skill. He trained dawn till dusk, sleeping in the Deku Tree’s hollow and cooking meals from the mushrooms and herbs the Koroks gathered for him. 

He appreciated the little forest spirits, their antics helped cheer him when the weight of it all began to crush him.They were helpful in small but essential ways. They mended and refreshed his clothes, told him their stories and sang their songs, and when his hair grew long they found him a band to tie it with. He asked them to send messages to his family that he was still alive even though he had no idea if they were successful. They would listen to the whispers of Hyrule and tell him which monsters were causing the most trouble so Link could gain some real battle experience. Hestu helped him pack enough provisions to make a pilgrimage to Thyphlo ruins, where he stayed day and night until he had mastered fighting blind, and then he returned to the Korok Forest to fine tune his skills until his seventeenth birthday.

He could slow time, and move faster than an arrow in flight, but he still wasn’t satisfied when the Great Deku Tree spoke, his voice painfully similar to his father’s.

“You must leave now, Hero, go and face your destiny.”

Link didn’t look up from his swings, the sword humming in his hand, “I’m not ready.”

“No one ever is, child,” the tree said, sadness and affection melting into one another, “you must go nonetheless. The princess needs you to be her strength. The land of Hyrule calls for your aid. You must answer their call”

The sword whispered in agreement, so he sheathed the blade and said his goodbyes to the forest children before emerging from the fog for the first time in months. He stopped to look at the Military Training Camp, wondering if he should visit his father. He thought better of it, continuing on his way. Even if they allowed a deserter within the barracks, Link didn’t think he could hold himself together in the face of the family he had left behind.

Link’s father stood at attention behind King Rhoam’s throne. He was Captain of the King’s Guard, which meant he had to watch over the weekly constituency. The King sat on a throne while the Princess occupied a plush, though less ornate, chair placed to the right of her mother’s vacant seat. He’d received the promotion a year after his son went missing and he accepted, since he no longer had a reason to stay at the Military Training Camp.

It took him three months to realize his son had disappeared.

When his wife asked after their Link’s whereabouts upon his return to Hateno on leave the Captain had been annoyed, at first. It was easier to believe that his son was simply acting out, surely to return once he’d felt he made his point, then to face the truth. That flimsy belief didn’t hold out for very long, because deep in his heart he knew better. Link had made a mistake perhaps, but he’d never run from the consequences of his own actions. The tears of his distraught wife hammered home the heartbreaking reality. 

Whatever had befallen his son, he wouldn’t be coming home.

There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t regret how he’d sent his son off that final time. He should have told his son that he loved him, protocol be damned. 

There were countless reminders of his son that tore at him. Small things. The Captain would be on patrol and he’d see a doodle of a young man wielding a winged sword that the children of castle town must have scrawled on a wall. He opened a drawer to find a scrap of fabric from the tunic Link was wearing when he left the Training Camp, and he would return to his office to find honeyd apples and other treats his son loved the most. The universe seemed intent on haunting him, and he knew he deserved it. 

He was so proud of his boy, but his final act as a father was to push Link to tears.

A chill went down the Captain’s spine, and he snapped to attention, kicking himself for letting his mind wander when he was supposed to be protecting the most important people in the kingdom. His time as a soldier had tempered his instincts, and he could sense a quiet, oppressive strength that would make a Lynel cower spread throughout the room at the sound of light footsteps padding towards the center of the room. A quick glance around the room revealed that his subordinates felt the same, shifting from foot to foot and hand twitching towards their weapons.

“State your business, boy,” came the King’s command, loud but not enough to drown out the ferocity leaking out from the diminutive hylian standing in the center of the Sanctum, his feet planted on the royal family’s crest.

Link said not a word, only reaching over his shoulder to pull the Master Sword from its sheath. The guards moved to intercept him, but he drove the tip to the ground before they could come close. The Captain stepped forward, swallowing his fear while he drew his sword to face the intruder.

“Stop!”

 The Princess’ voice rang out with an uncharacteristic authority, bypassing the King himself to halt the guards’ assault. The adrenaline seeped from the Captain’s blood, and he took a good look at the swordsman. 

He knew those eyes, their tearstained image had been burned into his memory for years. His son was taller now, though still on the shorter side. His hair was longer, much longer and swept back in a ponytail. The scrap of fabric the Captain had taken to wearing around his wrist was a perfect match for the tunic his son wore. The Captain’s sword clattered to the ground. Link was alive.

His son was alive!

But as he looked at the man his son had become, he felt some of that joy slip away. It was still there, but it was tainted by the realization of just how much Link had changed. Children grow, the Captain was well aware of this fact, but his son wasn’t just grown, he was distant and restrained. He stood less like a man and more like a statue carved to scare off malevolent spirits and sinners.

“Go to him, Zelda,” the King’s voice barely registered as the Captain struggled to reconcile this stoic, intimidating figure with the giggling, infectiously bright child he had raised.

Link hadn’t expected to run into his father so soon, his resolve was beginning to crack at the sight of the hesitant, regretful joy on the Captain’s face. He clenched his fist around the Master Sword’s handle, suppressing the urge to throw himself in his father’s arms and never leave. But then Princess Zelda stood before him in all her gentle radiance, fate given flesh, and he held onto her. Her presence banished any doubt within him. Link could feel her slumbering power, pulsing softly with the rise and fall of her breath. She felt like sunshine, and looking at her reminded him that this is where he needed to be. She too had destiny woven into the very fabric of her soul, the only other one of his kind.

Link knelt on the stones before her, laying the magnificent blade he commanded at her feet.

“That’s it then,” the King said, and the Princess nodded.

“Yes, it’s the Sword that Seals the Darkness,” she said, voice shaking, “We’re running out of time.”

“Not necessarily,” Impa piped up, “the fortune teller stated that the wingcrest would appear on the Hero’s body when the time drew near, I see no such mark.”

The Captain made a choked, distressed sound, but no one paid him any mind. All focused on Link. His hand was indeed blank, but after a moment’s confusion the Hero lowered his head before his princess, brushing his hair to one side so she could see the back of his neck. Her fingers brushed across his skin, sending a warm shiver down his spine. Link found himself relaxing under her hand, the touch felt like sending water from a hot spring rushing down his back and soothing the restlessness writhing inside him.

“How long have you had this?” she whispered, her fingertips lingering on the crest. Link could feel them shake slightly and felt a surge of protectiveness course through him. 

“Two years, eight months and six days,” the Captain answered. 

The King turned to his Captain, nonplussed, “You know this young man?”

“He’s my son,” was his broken reply. King broke into a smile.

“Well what do you know? You must be very proud of your boy today!”

“I’ve always been proud of him, your Majesty,” the Captain replied, “Always.”

Link took a shuddering breath as he felt some of the guilt from the last three years melt away, but his face remained stoic.

“With such a son I imagine you’d have little choice in the matter,” the King laughed, deaf to the thick emotion in the other man’s voice. Link felt the Princess’ hand stiffen before she drew away, a chill replacing the gentle heat he was already starting to miss.

“Rise, Hero,” she commanded softly, and he obliged without a word, sheathing his sword and taking his place by her side, the disquiet that had clawed through him since childhood finally satisfied. The Captain followed the divine pair as they declared the constituency over and the arrival of the Hero of Hyrule was announced, hopelessly at a  loss.

The night was quiet when Link was headed to his assigned quarters below the Princess’ tower, much like the evening he was called to draw the Master Sword. He had put his hand on the door’s handle when he heard steps approach.

The Captain approached his son with caution, consumed with hatred for his own cowardly hesitation. After years of grief, his son stood before him yet again, and here he was, trying to dredge up the courage to give his boy the apology he deserved. He didn’t know how to approach Link like this. He wasn’t his son anymore, it seemed, but the Hero of Hyrule, the answer to the prayers of thousands. Here stood the Knight who Seals the Darkness, the paragon all aspired to the second they took up a sword.

Looking at his son felt like looking over the edge of a cliff, but it was his eyes that concerned him most. The blue eyes passed down from his mother lacked the good nature and mirth once found there, a trait shared with her. Instead there was an emptiness, a great void between the Captain and the Hero far too wide to cross.

No. Now that he looked closer, it wasn’t a void, it was a wall, and that broke the Captain’s heart all the more. Deep down he knew that he couldn’t reach his son like this, but he owed it to his family to try.

“I’m sorry,”

He’s not sure what he expected, he still hadn’t heard his son’s voice, and drawing Link in for a hug felt like crossing some unspoken but no less potent boundary that legendary blade had cut around the Hero. The Hero of Hyrule nodded in acknowledgment of his words, and the Captain didn’t feel like pushing further would be fair on his son, so he nodded his goodnight and walked further down the path with a heavy heart to write a letter to his wife, not sure what exactly to tell her happened to their little boy.

[rwbyvein]

Firen Lhain: Chapter 806: Clear the Air:  Part II / III

"The third item on the agenda," Aurora stated, "is that I have made a short list of Atlasian architectural companies who specialize in renovating and modernizing castles."

"I'd say go with the one who's most discrete." Jaune stated.

"Of course." Aurora said, matter of factly, as if that closed the discussion. Jaune then looked between everyone else.

"For national security?" Weiss asked.

"What?" Jaune asked, "Uh, maybe? One, we're living a non-traditional lifestyle, and two, I'm not fond of scrutiny."

"Undue scrutiny?" Weiss asked.

"Or any, really."

"What about teachers?" Ruby asked.

"Well, yeah, well, teachers, teaching, kind of have important things to say, but other than that, it's not their business."

"What is?" Nora asked.

"Is not." Ren interjected.

"Is not?" Nora asked.

"What do you have?" Jaune asked.

"Not much, it's like all yours, really."

"Other than certain things." Blake stated, looking at her ring.

"I believe he means," Weiss interjected, "he wishes to avoid ANY scrutiny."

"Maybe it has to do with having seven sisters who are always in mine, and everyone else's business." Jaune stated, "Or from having a father who... liked to keep The Man at an arm's length."

"Weren't you like, a knight?" Yang asked, and Weiss turned to her.

"That might very well be the reason why. Knights were known for their... independent personalities."

"To quote my father," Jaune stated, "what business is it of yours?"

"Friend-Nora?" Penthesilea asked, "You do not own any possessions?"

"Well, there's my clothes, and Magnhild, and the gun that General Ironwood gave me." Nora replied, "And my swimsuit. Wait, no, Weiss bought my swimsuit, so I don't think it's mine."

"Pardon?" Weiss asked.

"Well, if it's my swimsuit, why can't I wear it?" Nora asked.

"Oh, well." Jaune stated, "We've had a busy what, week? Has it been two weeks since I was kidnapped?"

"A fourtnight less two days." Aurora said.

"How many is that?" Yang asked, and then her eyes rolled up as she started to do the math.

"A dozen." Blake stated.

"Why didn't she just say that?" Ruby asked.

"It's an.. older..." Jaune voiced, "measure of time."

"Back from when travel took a good deal longer." Aurora added.

"Anyways?" Jaune asked, "I mean, I was kidnapped, we ended up with a castle, I was made an Earl, we have prisoners in our dungeon."

"A dungeon you ripped the bars off." Yang said giddily.

"Anyways-anyways." Jaune stated, "I figured once we had a castle we could just, like, suntan in the garden, and whatever, and... I'm in bed because I healed the woman who killed Pyrrha." The joy seemed to evaporate from him and he slipped backwards. Ruby and Blake laid their heads on his chest. Jaune's breathing became harsh, as if he were gasping for breath.

"Should we reconvene?" Aurora asked.

"No." Jaune wheezed. "Family... first..."

"If?.." Aurora asked, and then breathed in deeply, "if we first bought sheep, we could use the income to support further renovation efforts."

"But?" Jaune asked, "Minions?"

Weiss spoke to the group, "He wishes to prioritize the benefits of his... er... minions."

"Don't we kind of need money coming in to do stuff like that?" Yang asked, causing Jaune to let out a harsh, bellowing sigh.

"He does have a point." Blake stated, now sitting up to look over the blanket.

"Ugh." Jaune sighed, "Ffiinnee. Vote."

"Do we get a vote?" Nora asked.

"Of course you do." Jaune grumbled.

"I don't mean to impose," Ren stated, "but, we are minions after all."

Jaune grumbled as he slowly forced himself to sit up, Ruby and Blake deferentially moving to the sides.

"Ren," he said, with a tint of hurt of sorrow, "we've - we've been together since Beacon. We wouldn't be here without each other, how could you?"

Ren held up his hand and Jaune trailed off, "If you could?" he asked, and Jaune simply looked at him, "As we established, we are to be minions, servants, vassals, retainers, whatever term you would prefer to use."

"Nora seems to like minions." Yang stated, causing Ren to let out a subtle smile.

"Yes, she does." he stated.

"I believe he means, Sir," Aurora said to Jaune, "that he believes such matters should be decided by the family."

"Huh?" Jaune asked, "Uh?" he said, as he laid back down. "I hate that he makes a point. Fine, sheep first."

"And?" Nora asked.

"And the llama." Jaune stated, "And whatever facilities we need to raise sheep."

"And a shepherd, obviously." Weiss stated.

"And a shepherd, obviously." Jaune repeated.

"Last on the agenda," Aurora stated, "we should consider adding another hangar or landing pad."

"Assuming we'll be building an extra wall?" Weiss asked.

"Yes, Mistress." Aurora said, causing Weiss to develope a shocked look. "Sir has requested we add a number facilities that would require extensive additions."

"Oh, uh, yes, of course." Weiss stated.

"Considering." Jaune voiced. "If that's the last business, uh... family dismissed."

* * *

"So, tell me?" Winter asked from the pilot seat, "Why has General Ironwood chosen you for this assignment?"

"I was already assigned to aid and support her previous frame." Ciel replied.

"And why were you chosen for that assignment?" Winter asked.

"I'm afraid I do not know, Specialist."

"I'm sure General Ironwood saw something in you." Winter stated.

"I do not know what, Specialist." Ciel replied.

"Maybe you need more faith in his judgement of you?" Winter stated.

* * *

The jury-rigged proximity alarm sounded and Ruby Petal Burst out of bed. Jaune made to sit up but found Blake gently pushing him back to bed. She kissed him on the cheek. "Just leave it to us." she soothingly said to him. He grumbled but laid back down.

* * *

Weiss jumped out the window, followed quickly by Yang. She used a series of Glyphs to catapult Yang up the side of the tower, before catapulting herself as well. The two shot over the side as Winter's airship landed. "Sister!" Weiss gleefully exclaimed as she landed. The airship landed and the rear gangway opened up Weiss catapulted herself over to hug Winter, but had to deflect as Ciel stepped down the gangway. She stood at attention and saluted. Weiss rebalanced herself and walked out. "Hello?" she asked.

Ruby Petal Burst onto the roof in her underwear before Petal Bursting back inside, passed Blake, also in her underwear who was flattened against the outer wall of the guardhouse. "Ciel?!" Ruby asked from inside the guardhouse.

"Cadet Ciel Soleil!" Ciel replied.

"What's a cadet?" Yang asked.

Weiss then turned to her, "Those at Atlas Academy wishing to joining the ASOC unit."

"They are given additional military training." Winter stated as she reached the bottom of the gangway.

"Okay?!" Ruby shouted from inside the guardhouse, "But, we're not like, military here."

"Not in the slightest." Winter said with a slight light blue flush.

"Your visit was... unexpected?" Weiss asked, "How are you doing, Sister?"

"General Ironwood has classified all information about this location as Top Secret." Winter replied, "All flight logs and communication reports, along with providing encrypted communications protocols, allowing you to hide your location."

"Yes, well," Weiss replied, "after what happened, that seems sensible."

"And I am doing well, sister." Winter said with a slight smile.

"And, uh, Sunshine?" Yang asked.

"Cadet Soleil." Ciel stated, still at attention.

"Yes, well," Weiss said to her, "Yang is fond of nicknames." She then offered Ciel her hand. "Weiss Schnee."

"It is an honour to meet you, Huntress." Ciel said, as she reached forward to shake Weiss' hand.

"Now, just so you know, we are not military here, and Jaune-dear is not fond of ceremony."

"Is he in charge?" Ciel asked, causing Yang to snicker, along with Ruby from inside the guardhouse.

"Pater familias." Winter stated, "And older practice that makes sense in this context."

"And this context is?" Ciel asked, "If you don't mind my asking."

"Five-way." Yang said.

"Five-way what?" Ciel asked.

"They..." Winter said and paused.

"We have an alternate lifestyle." Weiss stated, and then turned to Winter, "Is she your understudy?"

"She's Penny's friend!" Ruby shouted from inside the guardhouse.

"I was on her team, until her demise." Ciel stated, "General Ironwood has asked me to assist her however I am able." Ciel stated.

"Sorry!" Ruby shouted, "She's Penny's Weiss."

This caused Yang to start snickering.

"I do not believe she meant it that way." Weiss added. "And our relationship has improved dramatically." This cause Yang to keel over with laughter. "Yes, well, Ciel?" she asked.

"Cadet Soleil." Ciel stated.

"Ciel?" Penthesilea asked, as she landed on the tower roof.

"Ms. Polendina." Ciel said to her.

"I am afraid my friends are not so fond of formality." Penthesilea stated.

Ciel then saluted her. "General Ironwood has asked that I assist you."

"Yeah?" Yang asked, "General Ironbutt doesn't get to order us around, here."

"He explicitly stated it was a request, and if I refused it would not affect my graduation at Atlas Academy."

"Uh... huh?" Yang asked.

"And his name is General Ironwood." Ciel neutrally stated.

"My mistake." Yang said, trying to hide her smile.

[snapdragon-mina]

Midnight Sun

a/n: @uliscribbles HI ULI I'M YOUR SECRET SANTA 🎅🏾🎅🏾🎅🏾. I really hope you like this and I hope I did this fic justice,,, I'm still super thankful for what you did for me and I still have absolutely no idea how to repay you, so this'll have to do for now ✨. Enjoy!! 💞

Warnings: a couple f bombs, a smidge of harassment for like a second, and that's about it!

Word Count: 1.2k

Being born into royalty has its perks. You gain the ability to get almost anything your heart desires. Growing up, Y/n always had this ability. Being the first born in a kingdom notorious for having gifted rulers, everything except for your soulmate was gifted to you on a silver platter. 

Waking up just after sunrise, you were greeted by your head servant. "Your Highness, we have quite the day ahead of us." She spoke, already helping you out of bed. 

"Yeah, yeah. It's way too early. Please remind me why I had to wake up *right* after the sun?" You yawned and stretched, heading towards the bathroom where the bath was already drawn. Various different scented soaps and oils littered the bathtub.

"We have a lot to do. We need to maximize our time!"

"Mhm... Run me through the schedule." 

Multiple servants were in the bathroom helping you out. One held your hair up and out of the way as you took your bath and finished up. "As you wish, your highness! First off we have breakfast with the queen and king, after that you have to attend the knighting ceremony." 

"Is that all?" 

"I'm afraid not, the ceremony is followed by a ball to celebrate the new knights. As you know, the ball will last until sunrise. Then, you'll be allowed to sleep in again." 

You looked over at her in a way that just screamed "are you fucking kidding me?" She got the memo and laughed nervously. "I'm terribly sorry about this, your highness, but these are the king's wishes." 

"Yeah yeah. Whatever. Help me get dressed please." 

"As you wish!"

You'd gotten dressed and had the ever so pleasant breakfast with your uncomfortably stuck up parents. All that was left at the moment was the ceremony and ball. These were always boring. You'd never managed to find any sort of enjoyment during these events due to the knights all being as equally serious as your parents. 

You stood behind your mother as she recited the same questions to each knight and gave them their "knighthood". This process went on for over an hour until the final knight appeared. Now this one caught your attention. His hair was the same color as the sun with eyes as blue as the ocean. While the other knights stood with terrifying poker faces, this one had an easygoing smile and extremely kind eyes. 

Your mother recited the questions and he all but answered enthusiastically. After she finished and he was officially dubbed a knight, his gaze landed on you for a brief moment, resulting in the small bit of eye contact the universe needed to send a sharp pain to your wrist. 

Your eyes widened in the slightest as you realized precisely what that feeling meant. Subtly, you turned your arm to where your wrist faced you. There, as you expected, was the symbol of a soul match. A silver rose, etched right there. 

You glanced back over at the knight, and noticed him smiling at you excitedly. It was like looking at an excited puppy. You smiled back at him.

You hadn't seen that knight since the ceremony and the ball had started a little under two hours ago. You obviously searched for him but you'd always get roped into talking to some random prince that wished to court you for power. 

"Excuse me, your highness, but I couldn't help notice how amazing you look." One of them purred, grabbing your wrist as you tried to walk off. 

"Yeah whatever. Let me go, I have something to do." 

"What could be more important than talking to a potential mate? I mean, our parents are talking to each other, gorgeous." His voice was like poisoned honey. It was sweet but you weren't stupid. 

"Do me a favor and kindly fuck off. I'm busy." You hissed, startling him. Unfortunately, that only pissed him off. Before either of you could say anything, the knight from earlier had appeared in front of you. It was liked he'd fallen into your lap. 

"Hello, your Highness. Is he bothering you?" He asked. One hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he smiled down at the prince. This smile wasn't like the one from earlier, this one held… sinister undertones. Thankfully, he shook his head and quickly rushed off. 

He turned to you and bowed. "I know you had it under control, your highness, but I couldn't resist. I'm Mirio Togata." 

"I appreciate the help, Sir Mirio. But I really didn't need it." Despite your tone accidentally coming off harshly, he just smiled at you softly. 

"Oh I'm well aware, it looked like things were gonna get pretty brutal if he kept it up. That's a nasty glare you have there, your highness." He offered his arm to you.

You laughed a little and accepted it, leaving the crowded ballroom and heading toward the gardens. 

"So you're the soulmate I never thought I'd meet." You spoke once you both were further away from the ballroom. 

"Yep! Something told me that a major event -outside of being knighted- was going to happen to me today… even if you weren't my soulmate, just being able to see you in person would've been enough for me." He smiled, watching as butterflies fluttered around the flowers. 

You rolled your eyes playfully at the statement. "You're too nice. Thank you, Mirio."

"Anything for you, y/n." 

Two years after that initial meeting, you and Mirio only grew closer to each other. He showered you with compliments weekly, dedicating an entire weekday to just, absolutely showering you with adoration.

Your parents were your biggest concern, but surprisingly, they weren't as strict as you'd thought. Your father was content with you having someone strong and your mother knew Mirio's intentions were pure, so she trusted your judgement. 

When the time came for you to become the next ruler, it was winter. 

Snow covered the ground and snowflakes were still falling as you walked through the gardens with Mirio one last time before you were crowned. 

"Have I ever mentioned how amazing you look in the snow?" 

"Miri, you do everytime it snows." 

"Good. Because you look amazing! Oh, speaking of snow, your favorite animal is a rabbit, right?" Not knowing where this was going, you hesitated before nodding. He smiled wide and picked you up bridal style, running off in a seemingly random direction. You held onto his neck for dear life, squealing at how sudden it was. 

In a few seconds, the two of you reached the castle stable and he allowed you to stand on your own again. 

"Miri, what are you-" He cut you off with a finger to his lips and a wink. You rolled your eyes but waited patiently. Mirio made vague hand gestures to the people taking care of the animals and they nodded. 

5 minutes passed and eventually, Mirio was handed a cage. He smiled and presented you with said cage. "This is one of the newborns. She's old enough to be away from her mother, but it'd be great if you could let her visit every so often."

"I… I don't even know what to say…" 

He looked a little worried, but it went away as quickly as it came when you kissed him. 

"I'll take that as a "you liked it" Then?" He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

"Of course I like it. Thank you, Mirio. I love you so much." 

"I love you even more, sunshine. Now let's get you back to your room before a certain worker of yours takes my head." He laughed, leading you back towards the palace with your new pet.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Your Sword for a Kiss: Part 1

(Thank you so much @gods-no-longer-tread-here this one’s for you)

---

Geralt was exhausted. All he wanted was a cool drink of water and a soft place to lay down for a while. He was on his way back to Camelot to speak with the King about his next assignment and this was the last night he’d have to spend on the road. He was hoping for some decent rest.

 Destiny, of course, had other plans for the knight errant. 

Just as the sun was beginning to dip down into the horizon, Geralt saw a cluster of unusually tall and lush willow trees to the left of the roadway. The late summer breeze was cool and fragrant against his warm skin and carried the scent of water lilies. A pond, he thought with a smile. Certainly if there are water lilies then there must be a lake or pond nearby. Even a river would do. 

He ached to remove his chainmail and rest for a bit; he could make it to the castle the following afternoon with little trouble. Geralt steered his faithful steed, a thoroughbred mare he called Roach, towards the sweeping branches of the weeping willows. He ducked beneath and between them, winding his way forward until he reached the other side. There was a deep, clear blue pond and several small, flat rocky outcroppings behind the willows’ arms. A cave sat at the pond’s furthest point, half-filled with water and uninhabitable by humans. A safe place to rest. 

“Thank the gods,” he sighed.

He knelt beside the pool and cupped his hands in the water, leaning forward until he was sure he wouldn’t spill it all over his trousers. Just as he was about to take a sip, Geralt heard a soft click. The sword he always wore belted at his waist went sliding out of its leather sheath and towards the water’s edge.

Fuck. 

His reaching hand was only a second too late and he watched in dismay as the heavy steel sword disappeared beneath the surface of the water. “Damnit.”

Oh, well. At least Geralt had wanted a bath before reaching Camelot, anyway. He stripped down to his trousers and was about to dive into the pool after his weapon when he heard the sound of happy, melodious laughter coming from the left. The startled knight whipped his head to the side and his mouth fell open in shock; there was a young man sitting on a flat, rocky outcropping nearby. Dumbly, Geralt asked: “Who’re you?”

Despite its humanoid shape and dark, damp tendrils of hair, the creature was clearly not mortal in the slightest. It was too beautiful, whatever it was. Its eyes, a shade of blue so bright that they rivaled the sky, were locked on the knight as it laughed and smiled. A pearly white and sharp-toothed smile. Its body was long and slender, with gently sloping shoulders and softly curving hips. Its skin was slightly darker than Geralt’s but only barely; its legs were scattered over with small patches of deep blue scales. When it spoke, its voice rang out through the trees as clearly and sweetly as any songbird’s: “I am known amongst the others as Jaskier.”

“The others?”

“My brothers and sisters of the water. Other sprites and nymphs, of course.”

“Of course,” the knight nodded. He’d heard stories about the Fair Folk. It wasn’t the best idea to insult or ignore them. “It is lovely to meet you, Jaskier.”

“Really?” the sprite trilled, clapping his hands together excitedly. “You think I’m lovely?”

“Yes.” Geralt blushed at how quickly the word had left his mouth. He is rather pretty, the knight acknowledged. For a creature that would probably kill me for fun.

“You are lovely too, Sir Knight.”

“Geralt. Geralt of Rivia.”

“You are very handsome, Sir Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier beamed. Then he gestured down at the item near his feet; Geralt’s lost weapon. “Is this your sword, then?”

“Yes! May I have it back, Jaskier?”

“For a price,” the sprite teased. “Since you didn’t say please.”

“May I please have it back, Jaskier?” the knight reiterated.

“As I said before,” Jaskier huffed, apparently irritated now, “For a price. Don’t try to get away with foolishness for free.”

“I have very little coin to my name, good sprite. I am a lowly knight in service to His Majesty the King,” Geralt explained. He gave a gesture-heavy and ceremonial bow to the creature, who grinned in response and grabbed up the sword to clutch against his bare chest. Geralt’s bow faltered and his hands reached out automatically, as if he could pull the sword away and check Jaskier for wounds from across the distance: “Careful! You could hurt yourself, Jaskier!”

“I will be perfectly fine.”

“Please, be careful.”

“I appreciate your concern, sir knight. I have decided that you may have your sword back once you’ve given me a kiss.”

For a moment the Geralt couldn’t believe his luck. Just a kiss? All he wants is a kiss? 

Then he remembered his knightly oath. The oath he’d sworn to uphold before Arthur and all the court; the oath every knight swore to uphold before Arthur and the court. The oath to be true and just, to care for others without the expectation of reward, and to remain chaste and untouched until such a time that the King willed you to marry. 

Geralt sighed and glanced back toward the shamelessly naked woodland creature holding his most prized possession. “Well that’s going to be a bit of a problem.”

---

The giddy young sprite (or at least Jaskier looked to be in his early twenties) couldn’t keep his hands to himself, apparently. He spent the early evening playing with Geralt’s hair and eventually allowed the blushing, anxious knight to wrestle him into a shirt and trousers (babbling all the while about how nice the knight smelled and how soft Roach’s mane was and how much he hated wearing clothes). Somehow, despite all the racket and the moving around, the crafty little fae hadn’t let his hand off the hilt of Geralt’s blade. 

“Please let me carry the weapon,” the knight pleaded. “I’m afraid that you’ll cut yourself. It’s rather sharp and I don’t want you to bleed out and die before we make it to the castle and grant your reward.”

“But if I give it to you right now then you’ll ride off without paying me,” Jaskier pouted. 

“That wouldn’t be very knightly behavior,” Geralt argued, somewhat offended. “I give you my word as a Knight of the Round Table that you shall reach Camelot safely and be granted your payment by King Arthur himself.”

“I don’t want King Arthur to kiss me,” the sprite rebutted. “I want you to kiss me, Sir Geralt of Rivia. Then I shall return the sword; but only then.”

“I can’t give you the kiss without the King’s permission,” the knight explained for perhaps the third time. “Only His Majesty can settle our debt, because I swore my life and fealty to him.”

“Hmm. If you promise not to ride off and leave me here, then I’ll give you the sword back for safekeeping.”

“I swear. Safekeeping only.”

“Agreed.” 

Jaskier handed the blade over to Geralt, who sheathed it lovingly. By the time he looked back up from fixing his sword-belt, Jaskier was rummaging around in his saddlebags. He held up a vial of potent sleeping draught and Geralt jumped to his feet. The sprite laughed and danced away, keeping just out of Geralt’s reach as he sniffed around the potion stopper.

“Oh, what’s this?!” 

“Jaskier! Be careful!”

---

“What’s fealty?” Jaskier asked, watching as the white-haired knight lit a small campfire. He’d already aided the man in laying out his bedroll (Jaskier knew where all the softest patches of moss were) and grooming his horse (Roach took an uncanny liking to the water sprite). Now that the knight had finished setting up camp, there was nothing to stop Jaskier from peppering the human with his many questions about their world.

The knight sighed and warmed his hands over the burning logs, “Fealty means that I have sworn my life and loyalty to the King because I think his cause is righteous and his ruling is just.”

“Oh.”

Geralt saw the sprite’s eyebrows furrowing in confusion and tried explaining it more simply; “I think he has good ideas, so I’ve promised to help him while he works on them some more.”

“Oh! Okay.”

“Hmm.”

“Geralt,” the sprite asked, rolling onto his back in the grass and staring up at the knight with wide, shining blue eyes. “Could I swear fealty?”

“To His Majesty? Probably. You would have to prove yourself worthy, however. You’d probably have to live in Camelot and not -” the knight gestured around the pond and surrounding wooded copse “- here. Wherever this is.”

“I don’t want to swear fealty to your silly king,” Jaskier scoffed. “I want to swear it to you.”

“You can’t swear fealty to me because I’m am merely a knight. Only Kings can call people under oath.”

Jaskier wrinkled his nose in clear distaste. “That’s stupid. You humans are just so...silly. You have rules and regulations for every little thing you do and still you insist that the Fair Folk are confusing and tricky. I’ve never had to learn so many different ways to bow before. We’re only going to be at court for a few minutes, anyway. We’ll only stay long enough for you to get permission to kiss me; then we’ll return home, yes?”

“No,” Geralt shook his head. Jaskier bounced up off the ground and curled his fingers into the knight’s white hair, surprising him. “Hey!”

“It’s so pretty,” the sprite whined, tugging a little, “Let me play with it, Geralt. Let me brush it and braid it. You’ll be the most handsome knight in all the land when I’m finished.”

Maybe if he was braiding Geralt’s hair he’d stop touching everything else and blathering on about humans and their rituals. “Fine.”

“I do have one last question.”

“Hmm?”

“What did you mean when you said you wouldn’t be returning home with me? You can’t mean to stay at Camelot once we’re married.”

“M-Married!? Who said anything about marriage!?”

“I did, my sweet and silly Geralt. What else could a kiss mean?”

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Echoes of the Heart

General Hux x Female Reader

A/N: What started as a one shot is now turning into a multi chapter (thank you @autumnleaves1991-blog !) You wanted to see their life together, you’re in for a bumpy ride. I don’t apologise.

Warnings: Kylo Ren is an absolute brat. Hux is livid. We have some mind searching and force use.

Word Count: 2417

Read Part 1 here on AO3.

Part 2 on AO3.

The relief that Hux felt as he stepped onto the hangar floor of the Finalizer was unparalleled. He was back in his element, back in control, back home. Mitaka was waiting for him at the bottom of the ramp and fell into step next to the General, rattling off the news that Hux had missed while he was on the planet's surface. But Hux barely heard a word he said, his thoughts were back down on his homeworld with you. He was a married man now, the ceremony had been small, a marriage of convenience to further that family’s standing in Arkanis society. Something for them to brag about, their daughter, married to the General of the First Order. Travelling on the flagship with the mighty yet mysterious Kylo Ren.

Hux lifted his head and stopped walking down the corridor, his face pinched with annoyance as he regarded the deep wounds in the walls of his ship. The durasteel had melted from the intense heat, the outside of the marks black and full of anger. He hated the way this petulant man child used his pride and joy as something to release some feeling onto. Isn’t that what the Knights were for? Training? And to stop this sort of idiotic behaviour.

“S—sir?” Mitaka stuttered slightly at Hux’s heavy sigh.

“This needs sorting.” He demanded quietly.

“Y-yes sir!” Hux turned on his heel, the crisp sound of his boots rang out over the glossy floor as he entered the bridge and he saw with satisfaction everyone snapped to attention.

“At ease.” He called out, not that anyone paid attention to that command. His bright green gaze fell on a dark shrouded figure standing before the view port and he took a steadying breath before striding confidently forward.

“Welcome back General Hux.” The voice that oozed out of the vocoder was deep and rich caressing his ears with a velvet quality that he detested. Hux flinched, barely perceptible to anyone who might have been watching the pair as they stared out at the stars, just the faintest flicker of his eyelids as the cold crawling touch of the darkside pricked over his skin. He knew his barriers would hold, if there was one thing the officers and Generals were taught in the First Order it was to block out the selfish probing of Kylo Ren. “Did your business conclude on Arkanis?” He asked and Hux could hear the sneer in his voice behind the mask.

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but it did and once she is onboard we are ready to leave.” Hux gripped his hands together tightly behind his back, making a note to make sure the first you did was receive your mental training. A fresh mind on the Finalizer for Kylo Ren was like dangling meat before a tooka. The soulless mask turned to Hux which he ignored, even if the hidden gaze seemed to burn its way through his face. Without a word he swept off the bridge, his feet stomping loudly and a collective exhale sounded from the team on the bridge.

“Sir, a ship is approaching from Arkanis.” Hux turned to look at the specifications and he instantly recognised it as your ship.

“That shall be my guest. Make sure she is escorted to her chambers with all her items. Whatever she wants, she gets.” Mitaka made a note on the datapad when Hux heard the soft ding of a notification. His Lieutenant’s eyes widened slightly, shooting a nervous look at Hux. “Spit it out Dopheld.” He almost snapped.

“S-sir, Supreme Leader Snoke is requesting you.” He knew this was coming, he’d been waiting for it even if the new knot in his stomach told him otherwise. “I shall take it in my chambers. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Yes Sir,’ murmured Mitaka as the General strode off.

You stepped off the ramp of your ship, already noticing the difference in the air of the ship. The purifying mechanics on the Finalizer were of the highest quality but still the staleness hit the back of your throat and you felt the need to clear it. Your gaze was pulled to a large dark figure as he entered the hangar, he was taller than every stormtrooper here, his outfit swaying with each heavy footstep. A mask covered his face, black and menacing like the rest of his attire, with hints of silver around where his eyes should have been. You raised your chin defiantly as he approached, the rustle of his outfit sounded loud when he came to a stop before you. His head tilted slightly to the side and you could feel the goosebumps rising all over your skin under the soft fabric of your dress. This man was dangerous, he gave off that presence and it made you feel weary.

“You must be General Hux’s guest.” You didn’t like the way he accentuated the last word, you weren’t sure how much Hux had told his staff here about what happened on Arkanis. You were stepping into his world now and you were willing to play by his rules.

“I am.” You boldly affirmed.

“I am here to escort you to your new quarters.” He turned and offered you his arm. Instantly you wanted to recoil but you knew every eye in this hangar was on you and him. You knew who he was, you recognised the mask. This, was Kylo Ren. The Jedi Killer, a wielder of the mysterious entity known as the Force. Unfortunately Hux hadn’t been able to prepare you for arriving on the ship, once the papers were signed and the appropriate socialising had happened he left and came back to the Finalizer with instructions for you to follow. If you so wished. In all honesty you had pondered over it for a long time, but while talking to him in the maze you realised you wanted off that planet, away from the confines of the stifling society and to become your own person, hopefully.

You slipped your hand into the crook of Kylo’s elbow, holding in a gasp as he trapped your hand in the crease, you could feel his muscles bulging against your fingers but you refused to react. You knew men like him, dealt with them a thousand times. They were the ones who exuded power, they wanted you to simper and fall at their feet when they flexed it before your face. But that wasn’t you. You matched his purposefully long strides knowing he was trying to unsettle you but instead you made it to the doorway of your quarters in seemingly record time. You could feel his annoyance, he hadn’t tried to engage you in conversation which was good for him because you probably would have shut him down.

The door whooshed opened and finally he released you letting you step inside. The quarters were smaller than what you were used to but you didn’t mind, you were on a ship after all. Your life was about to change dramatically. You heard the door shut behind you and you let out a small sigh as you began to peel your gloves off. A chill ran up your spine and your motions paused, turning slowly you realised he hadn’t left at all.

“Can I help you Commander?” You asked. He began to move, his mask trained on you as he circled and you wondered if he could hear the increase in your heartbeat. The dress did nothing to help you, stopping you from taking a deep breath and you began to perspire. You clutched the lace gloves in your hand wishing you were holding onto something with more substance. Like a weapon.

“You seem unsettled.” He commented, the velvety tones rolling out of his mask trying to lull you into a false sense of security. You smirked trying to get across a confidence you didn’t feel at all.

“Is that your only observation?” You blanched slightly. Why did you say that? You didn’t want him to notice things about you at all! You wanted him to leave. A chill ran up your spine and your lips parted, letting loose a tiny gasp of surprise. In that moment he advanced quickly with grace and a sureness that you didn’t realise could come from someone of his size. You nearly tripped over the lengths of your ridiculous dress as you backed away from his outstretched leather gloved hand. It was hazy at first, the pressure that squeezed at the base of your skull. A full throbbing ache that quickly engulfed your mind, robbing you of your senses, all that was left to you was touch. The feel of the cool wall was the only thing you knew to be real as visions clouded your mind, bright colours, snatches of conversations, people’s faces, rooms, so many rooms….

“REN! What the HELL do you think you are doing?” Armitage. You hadn’t known him that long but the unbridled fury that laced his tone made you want to cower and hide in a corner. The pressure withdrew and you slumped against the wall as everything came back. Your chest strained against the confines of your dress and you wanted nothing more than to get out of it but right now there was a more pressing matter.

Kylo straightened to his full height before turning to face the red faced General. Hux’s fists were balled up at his sides, the flush that covered his face reached the tips of his ears but his eyes held the most power. Glaring at the Commander with such a blazing intensity you wondered how the taller man was still standing.

“I was just making sure your wife wasn’t a Resistance spy.” If Hux could have got any redder he would have, the veins threaded in his neck and you could see the tension gathering in his jaw.

“Get. Out.” He spat. His body stiff, like pure rage alone, was holding him together. Kylo kept eye contact as he stalked past the quivering General and neither of you moved until the door had closed firmly behind the black clad figure. It felt like an electrifying presence had left the room and all of a sudden you could breathe again, the recycled air clogging your throat as you dragged more into your lungs. Without thinking you automatically fumbled for the drawstrings to your dress, if you didn’t release it you were going to faint. “Are you alright?” His voice was clipped and short but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. The strings loosened with a practised twist of your hand and you bent over breathing deeply through your nose.

Hux didn’t know what to do. The adrenaline was still flowing through his body from seeing you at the mercy of that monster and he thought his heart was going to explode at the sight of your unseeing eyes and pain stricken face. Now it thudded wildly, almost bruising his ribs as he advanced to your hunched over form. He wanted to touch you, he wanted to touch you. If this hadn’t been a fraught situation he would have noted that thought with more interest but his hands were reaching for your heaving shoulders automatically. Like touching someone else was the most natural thing for him to do. You looked up at him, your eyes shining with unfallen tears and he thought his heart was literally going to jump out of his chest.

“Armitage,” the way you gasped his name made his insides clench and he didn’t register that your hand had already found its way to grip onto his arm. “Not the greeting I was expecting,” you said in breathy tones and he cursed himself for wondering if that tone only came out after you’d been hurt.

“I was detained, or I would have met you off the ship myself.” He hated this new feeling that slithered through him, it wasn’t one he felt very often and in all honesty he barely recognised it for what it was. Guilt. You managed a feather light smile as you straightened, your breathing was finally slowing and your hand left his forearm. He flexed his hands after removing them from your shoulders, the imprint of your skin still burning through his gloves. He took a respectful step back, falling behind the mask he had perfected over the years to hide any emotion. Weak, spineless boy…. As always his fathers voice haunted him when he needed it the least and he clasped his hands together behind his back in an effort to conceal any unwanted tremors. He almost hated himself for admiring you in this moment, the way you held yourself, the steeliness in your gaze spoke of some hidden strength and he knew you had already presented yourself better than some of his officers when faced with the onslaught that was Kylo Ren.

“I shall make sure he doesn’t return. The Knights will keep him busy.” You nodded. “I have matters to attend to.” He turned on his heel wishing he could do more, provide more, but he had no idea if you wanted him to. This was after all, a marriage to help your family, a marriage of convenience.

“Armitage?” He nearly toppled over in his haste to turn back and face you, to gaze upon your face as you swept a stray strand of hair from your cheek. “Will I see you later?” His mind tripped over itself as he ran through all the tasks he had to do. Usually he stayed up all hours, taking advantage of the lack of time that was out here in space, ignoring the First Order days and hours the ship ran on, the forced sunrises and sunsets meant nothing to him. Until now.

“Yes.” He found himself answering. “Yes, I could join you for dinner?” The smile you bestowed upon him was just as lovely as he remembered, and it created an even stronger reaction this time, his stomach almost flipping over in response.

“I would like that, very much.” He nodded, turning and leaving before he embarrassed himself anymore. It wasn’t until the door closed behind him that he allowed the breath he’d been holding to expel from his lungs. He straightened his tunic, smoothing the material, feeling his tight hold on control falling back into place. The first thing he needed to do was get Ren off this ship and he didn’t care how.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

where does it end?

Pairing: Queen!Reader x Knight!Bucky Barnes 

Warning(s): angst, sexual themes, triggering content, dark!steve

A/N: by @lookiamtrying​ request, i am posting the last part to an year old mini fanfic i wrote. last chapter inspired by love me or leave me. enjoy xx

The world had barely seen the Queen ever since her loss. She was locked in her room and never left for any reason. Steve had been assigned her duties and her meals were taken into her chambers by her handmaidens. She had even moved her King and husband from her room. No one heard from her and some handmaidens were quick to start coming up with the wildest of theories while some believed she could be expecting, but James knew it wasn’t the truth. 

     - The King’s calling for you, Sir Barnes. - Natalia walked into the training chambers where he was supervising some new blood into the royal army. James sighed, turning to his second and telling him to take his place before following the redhead into the King’s headquarters.

He wasn’t very keen on talking to him much less look at him. James despised him with every drop of his being but yet he couldn’t figure out if it was because he had gotten the ultimate prize or if he had threatened to have her head cut off due to infidelity which had never happen. 

They finally stopped in front of the King’s Quarters which had been the young Queen’s library and now rudely turned into somewhere where Lord Rogers rudely tried to take her place. He was royalty but he didn’t have the grace or the beautiful ruling ability the Queen had. 

    - Your Royal Highness ... - the redheaded female knocked on the huge mahogany doors whose initials had been removed. She slowly opened the door to see the blonde reading some papers. - Sir Barnes is here, as you requested. 

    - Thank you, Lady Romanova. - he said, not even looking up from his papers. Natalia took James inside, leaving him there only hearing his heartbeat and the wood crackling on the fireplace. He heard the doors closing behind and his last conversation with the king came to mind. 

    - Your Majesty, what do you wish from me? - no matter how hard he disliked the man, he was still his King and while Y/N was unavailable, he’d have to answer to him and only him.

    - You are a smart man, Sir Barnes. My advisors say you take it after your father, ever so calculating. You’re a man who, like me, knows that despite our dear Queen being ever so thoughtful, ever so loved, she has one job that she needs to do as a Royal of her gender. Can you tell me what is it?

    - Provide heirs to ensure the house keeps on. - James refused to look Steve in the eyes. He didn’t understand where he was going, he didn’t understand why he asked that. - What does that have to do with me, your majesty?

    - She refuses to see me and since she’s the rightful heir, her advisors have suggested another husband for the Queen considering we won’t produce any heirs. - Steve got up from his seat walking up to one of the countless shelves filled with books owned by the crown family. - I’ve spent years in my brother’s shade, heir in spare and I will not have my marriage annulled and lose my crown because my wife refuses to lay with me. 

    - I don’t understand what that has to do with me, Your Majesty. 

    - My wife clearly doesn’t want to lay with me but she doesn’t seem to have minded laying with you before we were married. At this point I don’t care who the child is as long as she’s pregnant. 

Bucky’s heart sank into his stomach as his brain started to process what he was asking of him. It couldn’t be, he wouldn’t want that, Bucky couldn’t do that. His eyes seemed void of life as he looked up at his King whose position was so so fickle.

    - I don’t think I understand, your Majesty. - Bucky hoped he didn’t understand, he really hoped he was wrong. 

   - What part of fuck my wife do you not understand, Sir Barnes? - he growled at the man standing in front of him. - I will not be thrown off my rightful throne because my wife refuses to get knocked up. 

   - With all due respect, your Majesty, it is her rightful throne. She’s the heir.

   - You see, Sir Barnes I really don’t wanna accuse my wife of adultery. It will end up in her beheading and I really don’t think the people would enjoy that. Besides, of course I will pay you a good amount for your service and it’s not like I will deprive you of seeing the child. - Bucky could feel himself churn at the thought of the man so many called loyal and rightful treat Y/N as if she were a breeding dog, as if she were a business, as if she wasn’t the human with the heart of gold he knew she had.

No, no, Bucky couldn’t do that to her. He knew his Queen like the palm of his heart, she was sweet, fair and anyone who’s by her company normally basks in her light which seems to reflect of her own words. He couldn’t agree to treat her as if she was merely a breeding object but he also couldn’t allow for her to be beheaded. It terrified him to see the face he used to love to wake up next to, her little smirky whenever she stole swords from knights as her princess, her sunny smile whenever she performed an operetta correctly gone. He couldn’t see her gone. No. He had promised to protect his sovereign and she would always be her Queen.

     - I cannot do that. 

     - Your father fought to protect this kingdom. I am fighting to protect it too, you cannot let a woman rule by herself, who’ll inherit the throne? Besides, you surely didn’t mind fucking her like a cheap whore when she wasn’t married.

     - Your wife has always been loyal to you since her marriage. I’ve told you that before. 

     - Then I think you have a choice to make. 

Bucky felt the world collapse on top of his. Through his mind rushed the moments he had shared with her, from the very first moment he met her sitting at one of her mother’s teas, pink frilly dress, the smile she gave him to her wedding when he refused to stop the ceremony. He wondered if he should’ve had stopped but he also wondered what life he could’ve given her. It didn’t matter anymore, he should’ve stopped it, he should’ve done something. He thought of the life she could’ve had if he had stopped her, she wouldn’t have gotten pregnant, she wouldn’t have lost the baby, he wouldn’t have disappointed her once again and she wouldn’t be traded around like a harlot.

As he exited the study, he knew what he had to do. He had to take her away from the kingdom as sure as possible, send her to one of their allies, maybe to one of her younger sister’s kingdoms gained by marriage, anywhere that could aid her in stopping what was happening behind her back.

    - Don’t. - he turned around to see his wife, Natalia. She held a cold look in her face, too cold contrasted to her fiery red hair but he still could point out the crack in the ice of her eyes. It was still there, begging. - I know what you’re thinking about, James. Don’t do it. 

    - Get off my way, Natalia. - she stood in front of him like an unmovable rock, stronger than the tide itself, never stopping. - I won’t say it again.

    - Just sleep with her, James. He’ll pay you well and we could leave this, we could maybe buy a piece of land, start over. - jealousy is a damned thing, he realised. He realised jealousy had shaped the wife once friend who he had known all his life as someone who knew right from wrong, it had shaped her into a cunning woman, one which knew how to ride the problem of her marriage away. But she couldn’t erase the problem, she could never get what was already someone else’s, no matter how hard she tried. - You’ll only end up getting yourself killed.

    - Move.

    - No, James. 

    - Do not make me hurt you. - he stepped closer to the red head, close enough he could feel her breathing on his face, fists clenched. 

    - Would you hurt your wife for her? 

Yes. The answer was yes but he wouldn’t say it to her. Instead he shoved her away from him, watching as his lack of answer broke through her cold facade allowing him to overpower her. Natalia watched as he strode through the halls, not even looking back. He had been gone a long, long time away, but now, now he was walking away and she stood in the corridor, on her knees, stubborn soul refusing for the tears gathered on her eyes to stream down her face, hate growing where love once blossomed. 

Bucky strode through the corridors, the phantom of Y/N still haunting him as if the memory of younger, better days were pulling at his brain like bottled regrets. She would always let her hand close to his, hoping for him to grab it and he never did, he never did. He wondered why he never did. As he stepped closer to her chambers, he could see her handmaids surrounding the door, still locked out and not allowed in. 

   - You’re needed elsewhere. - he spoke in a tone which left no room for interpretation. The girls immediately rush away, fears of the man which seemed to had turned bitter with time too present in their minds. Bucky didn’t care or feel any pity for them. They had comfortable lives, they didn’t need pity, they needed to be away from the Queen.

His hand went straight to the door handle, pushing it open but the door didn’t budge. Y/N was still locked in. He tried in, hoping the door would cave in but once again it didn’t. They weren’t supposed to cave in. His fists started banging against the gold encrusted door and had he not lost his flesh arm long years ago, it would’ve started bleeding from the force alone. 

    - Open the door, Y/N! - desperation dripped from his voice but she herself, like the door didn’t cave in.

   - Stop banging on the door and go away, James. - he could hear her from the other door. So close and yet so far away.

   - Open this door or so help me I will break it down myself. - Y/N didn’t doubt him. She knew what his arm could do but she was also much too smart not to get hurt again. Nevertheless, she unlocked the door, turning the small golden key held by the lock and he immediately pushed the door open. Her eyes scanned him, he was deranged, like an animal in the wild.

   - Get out, James. I swear I will call the guards on you. 

   - We need to go. - he walked into her bedroom, straight to the hanger where her cape hanged from. Grabbing it, he threw it at her but Y/N remained in her spot, no affection for him in his face. Had he not been so concerned for her head remaining on her shoulders, it would’ve hurt him. - I said we need to go, Y/N. 

    - You don’t get to order me around. 

    - Do you still love me? - the question took Y/N by surprise. Almost as if something had hit her, she took a few steps back, looking behind her to see that not so far away there were some guards. She could just call for them.

    - James, I will call the gu ...

    - Do you still love me? - he interrupted the young queen, punctuating every single word like a stab on an already aching heart. There was no saint, there was no devil, just two aching hearts filled with scars that were starting to harden the youthful hope it used to harbour.

Did she still love him? Yes. She can’t find the words to tell him, head and heart bleeding in negative thoughts. She could never say to him she didn’t and whenever she told him she did, he would turn his face and walk away leaving her broken, shattered on the floor by a love surely classic love tales warned her about. In her memory everything still burned from when he said he didn’t love her from when he called himself a mere companion. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she loved him so instead she nodded.

    - I have to get you out right now. I’ll explain later. - he stepped towards her but there was no ice cold nature to him, no violence. Instead, he slide the cape behind her, tying it around her neck before placing the hood over her head. It was a bleak brown cape she would use whenever going into the town’s market. 

His hand wrapped around hers as he turned the opposite way from the guards, walking towards the training grounds from which he could sneak her out and into the carriage which led into the town where she could get a train ticket into one of her sisters’ kingdoms. He kept rushing through the halls until a very familiar voice made him stop, rushing her to the opposite corridor. Both of them were up against the wall. 

   - Thank you for letting me know, Natalia. - the voice boomed through the corridor before he turned to address the guard with him. - Make sure Sir Barnes and the Queen leave. Sadly, our Queen seems to have chosen an illicit affair over her wedding and therefore she is a traitor to our country. 

Y/N looked up to Bucky, not understanding exactly what had happened but knowing she clearly couldn’t remain in the castle. Bucky mouthed kitchen to her, before helping her rush down the corridor onto the kitchen. Both of them ran through the oven heated grounds until the wooden door. Luckily for them, it was open.

   - Here. - Bucky handed her a small pouch. - There’s enough for a train ticket and more if anything happens. 

   - Are you coming?

   - Bucky, you’re gonna be killed. If affair isn’t believed, he’ll surely blame you for rape or kidnapping and he’ll kill you.

   - Y/N.

   - Do you love me? - she had one hand on the open door’s handle and one extended to him.

Yes. His hand touched hers and they exited, door behind them closed as everything was left behind.

[cyraclove]

For the prompt requests, zelink ww balter? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

balter--to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment

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“It seems frivolous to have a party while most of the country is still undergoing reparations,” Zelda muttered as she and Link walked down the main hall towards the grand ballroom. Being the latest room in Hyrule Castle to be refurbished, it required the queen’s approval. Everything nowadays seemed to require her approval.

It was exhausting. 

“I don’t disagree, but,” Link replied with a slight shrug, “I do think that Impa has a point. If nothing else, it might lift spirits.” 

The ball was meant to bring to a close the summit that would be held at the castle in just three days time. Zelda had been organizing this gathering of leaders from each region in Hyrule for over a year, having traveled to deliver each proposal personally. 

She had been hesitant when the ball was initially suggested, only agreeing under the condition that it would be open invitation for the entire kingdom. The whole purpose of the summit was to unite her people after a century of division; this could not be done without complete transparency. 

“You know that I am certainly in favor of building rapport with my people, but let me go to them. I need to see their homes, their children. What life is like for them. I know that I wouldn’t want to come here and see how much money and labor has been poured into this place if I couldn’t even put food on my table.” 

When Link did not respond, Zelda’s eyes flickered up to find him softly smiling at her. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. You’re just good at this.” 

Zelda felt a tiny flutter in her stomach and quickly glanced away, biting her lip in a failed attempt to veil her involuntary grin. 

“Well,” she said, “empathy alone does not a sovereign make.” 

Link chuckled, cocking a brow at her. “You’re allowed to take compliments, you know.” 

Her cheeks burned hot. She damned herself for neglecting to put on rouge that morning, knowing there was nothing to conceal her blush. 

“You’re right. Thank you,” she conceded, “you’re very kind.” 

“Just honest.”

Arriving at the intimidatingly large ballroom doors, Zelda took in a long breath through her nose and closed her eyes. 

Think tall. Smile. Breathe. 

The moment that Link opened the door for her, she was immediately inundated. Disappointed, but not surprised. 

“You majesty, we’d love your opinion on a color for the drapes--”

“--and if you look closely at the chandelier, you’ll see that we sourced the crystal from the Hebra region--”

“Don’t forget that you’re due at the clothier for your gown fitting this afternoon, and--”

“As soon as you’re ready, your majesty, we can practice the waltz.”

Waltz?

Zelda’s head snapped toward her newest royal advisor, a young woman named Calyn, from Akkala. She was fond of Calyn for several reasons, but mostly because she was good company. Her sense of humor mirrored Zelda’s in more ways than one, and she was never without a story to tell. Aside from Link, Calyn was one of the only people whose nearly constant presence did not irritate her.

“I’m sorry. Did you say waltz?” 

Calyn nodded, emitting a nervous laugh. The woman’s eyes darted towards a cellist and violinist seated next to her, instruments at the ready. How had Zelda failed to notice them when they walked in? 

“Yes, your majesty. Practice. For the ball? I thought I told you.” 

“That was...today?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Zelda sighed. Of course it was.

She nodded, smiling at a very anxious looking Calyn in order to wordlessly assure her that she was not at any fault. 

“Ah, that’s right. I’d almost forgotten. Thank you for arranging everything, Calyn.” 

The other woman’s expression immediately softened, her shoulders dropping in relief. She clasped her hands together. 

“It was my pleasure, your majesty.”

Calyn quickly cleared the room of everyone else, earning protests from architects and chefs alike. Zelda chuckled inwardly as she watched her shoo them all out. 

Calyn returned with a rather triumphant look on her face, arms akimbo. “Right, then. Now, if you’d both stand in the center, there.” 

Zelda and Link looked at one another simultaneously. She swallowed hard, unable to decipher if the look in Link’s eyes was one of bewilderment or excitement. As they stood there in silence, Calyn again began to pale. The musicians eyed them curiously. 

“The two of us?” She asked, as if there were a million other men in the room. 

“Her majesty was to select a partner for the waltz,” Calyn gently reminded her. 

Shit. That’s right. 

Zelda had had Link in mind from the very moment that Calyn had informed her of this tradition, but had felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to vomit every time she thought that she’d finally mustered up enough nerve to ask. She smiled weakly, trying desperately to ignore the sound of her pulse in her ears. 

Poor Calyn shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, her eyes darting frantically between the queen and her knight. 

“Has Sir Link accepted, your majesty?”

“He has,” Link answered for her, much to Zelda’s surprise. He beamed at her as he extended his hand for her to take, the handsome cut of his jawline catching the light as he bowed his head in ceremony. 

Slipping a gloved hand in his, Zelda let Link guide her to the center of the floor, praying that he could not detect the slight tremble in her fingers. He gingerly placed his hand on her waist, the warmth emanating from his touch sending a thrill through her chest. Their faces a mere hairsbreadth apart, Zelda felt the irrational urge to find out what might happen if she were to press her lips to his right then. 

Calyn’s voice shattered the thought, making Zelda startle in Link’s arms. 

“Splendid! Music, please.” 

The musicians began playing a lively waltz, the lovely timbre of their strings filling the room with the bright melody. Zelda met Link’s gaze, panic spiking in her gut. 

“I don’t know how to dance,” she whispered. 

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Neither do I,” he replied. He placed his broad hand on her back, pulling their bodies flush as he took her hand in his. She reeled as the sudden closeness, stifling a little gasp. 

“Ready?” 

“No.” 

Link laughed as he started to lead her around the dance floor, taking wide, sweeping steps that made it difficult for her to keep up. Zelda felt a giggle burble up from somewhere deep inside of her. They stumbled together, moving in a way that could possibly be likened to dancing if one were to squint. 

After several moments, Zelda found herself laughing to the point of pain as she let Link carry her across the room with him, twirling her clumsily and far too often. She was so entranced that she did not hear Calyn’s attempt at instruction, instead putting her trust in this man who had absolutely no idea what he was doing. 

When they finally came to a halt, Zelda tripped over her own skirt and fell into Link’s arms. He laughed as he caught her, a litany of apologies leaving him amidst the laughter. Her head still spinning, she craned her neck to kiss him on the cheek. She stilled after she realized what she’d just done, only to receive a kiss in return.  

It was then that she realized that if this wasn’t truly how the waltz was done, she had no real interest in learning how. 

_

_

_

This was so much fun. Thank you so much!!

[astraeagreengrass]

The Queen's Husband [8/?]

When her reign is threatened, the Queen of Ergona must find a husband to secure her throne.

Word Count: 3.020

Warnings: angst, I'm evil, very brief mentions of violent acts

A/N: f you're interested, I posted some visuals for this story here and here. Many, many, many thanks to @xbuchananbarnes​ for helping me with this chapter. I hope you like it ♡

Series masterlist

“The man that stabbed your uncle, Baron Zemo. He said something before he killed himself: Hail Hydra. I’ve heard these words before, Your Grace. I’ve heard them from the mouth of Joseph Rogers, the Duke of Arvenia and King Steven’s father.”

“What?” you gasped.

“It’s true, Your Grace. I swear on my uncle's grave! I would never lie to you, especially not about something this serious,” Peter quickly assured. The harsh wind and the deep purple shadows under his eyes made him appear much older than his budding years.

“I don’t doubt your honor, Peter,” you said. “But perhaps you were mistaken about the man you saw?”

The boy shook his head.

“As much as he tries, Lord Rogers is not very discreet, Your Grace. It was him, lurking in the shadows of the Keep. I know what I saw.”

Peter’s words were half a confession, half a desperate plea for you to believe them. You never trusted Lord Rogers - he was pompous and greedy - but he was your husband’s father. That made him your family.

Of course you knew there was at least a small amount of conspiracy in your Court - especially when it came to West Ergonans - but to think of an entire treasonous plot lead by your very own in-law? It was preposterous.

“He mentioned your mother, Your Grace,” Peter whispered.

You turned to him so fast the joints in your neck cracked.

“My mother?”

“Yes. He said a man named Sitwell,” Peter visibly flinched, and not from the cold, “stabbed her. In Geotach. And apparently Lord Rogers was the one to convince your father to announce her death as suicide, because no one would believe otherwise.”

An agonized scream rose from your larynx, spilling past your vocal cords. It nearly escaped from your throat, but you bit your tongue, coating your mouth in pungent, metallic blood. It made your stomach queasy.

Your mother’s death was discredited and you were ruled as a grieving girl, spinning tales to fill the void her absence left. It was told that you were sent to live in Foghar because the memories of Albeon were too much for you to bear, but in reality, it was exile: your father never forgave you for running away that night.

“You were supposed to die, Y/N. Not her!”

He passed without ever speaking to you again, leaving you his throne and his ghosts.

Not many knew the truth of your mother’s murder. Even less fully believed in you. This secret was kept under lock and key, in a vault safer than those beneath the dungeons of the Keep, and not one person would risk your trust by sharing it - not even with a good boy like Peter Parker.

Your uncle held his squire in very high regards, but not even that was enough to divulge your privacy.

“Who would Lord Rogers meet?” you mumbled tentatively. In your mind's eye, the words came out of your lips vermillion-colored.

“Thrice he met with Lord Pierce, the Marquess of Gormes. And in one occasion he met with a man I couldn’t recognize. He was white and dark-haired and visited the Keep in November.”

Your stomach churned with sickness and you desperately wanted to puke from sheer despair. You slapped a hand across your mouth, holding back a gag.

Lord Pierce was repugnant with his sleazy ways and sexist remarks, but unfortunately that was the normality rather than the exception. Gormes was very close to Arvenia as well, so it made sense that him and Lord Rogers were always together. But still...

Your heart screamed inside your ribcage for you to trust Peter. To storm the Keep to the ground as you scavenged for answers, overturning every stone and every rock. You wanted to take the clay from the bricks and shape them with your bare hands to the form of Rogers and Pierce, just so that you could tear them apart the way they did to you. Yet, your reason - the guiding voice of your reign, trained from an early age to be rational - warned you that there was no actual evidence.

It sounded you so much like your father, haunting your mind like the waves that nearly drowned you.

You wanted it to drown. And your enemies alongside it.

“Peter, I have a mission for you,” you declared. “Ride to the sacred city of Kamar-Taj. Find the Ancient One, tell her everything you just told me. Ride at full speed and stop for nothing. Wear the crown’s colors and hoist the dragon banner - it will ensure you safety on the road. Once you get there, the masters will provide you with food and shelter. If anyone asks, say you're on a special assignment given by Lord Stark before his accident.”

The boy's soft brown irises widened.

"Your Grace, I’m just a squire," he stuttered. "Only knights are allowed to hoist the dragon banner.”

You lowered the hood of your cape. The gale was still blowing fiercely and some pieces of hail slashed your cheekbone, yet you supposed it was more respectful this way.

"Give me your sword, Peter," you asked in the gentlest voice you could muster.

It was no more than a dress sword, more for decoration than anything. Peter was loyal, committed and diligent, but young. Too young. You sent a prayer to the Gods that he didn't pay for the sin you were about to commit.

With a flick of your hand, you mentioned for him to kneel. Natasha and Wanda stopped pretending they weren't paying attention to the conversation and turned, mouths agape with stupefaction.

You touched the sword to Peter's left shoulder, then his right, then his left again, and announced:

"Arise, Sir Peter Parker, Knight of the crown of Ergona," Mother, Maiden and Crone, please protect this boy. "Be safe."

You stood by the window until Peter’s horse disappeared in the foggy wastelands of the surrounding fields. The blood dried in your mouth and in your face, though your gums still tasted sour. There was no sundown, but rather just the sooty grey sky turning inky, as if the death of this day shouldn’t be granted even the simplest of ceremonials.

When night came, you returned to your chambers. People greeted you on your path, bowed their heads in respect, yet the hallways never looked more like a prison than they did then. At some point, Natasha held on to your elbow. Or perhaps it was Wanda. Maybe it was another one of your demons.

“Should we call for the King?” you heard one of them say.

“After what we’ve heard today, do you think the King can be trusted?” the other replied.

Above the fireplace, the Dragon on the tapestry mocked you.

Steve entered without knocking. His hair was longer, almost reaching his chin. He said he had no time for a haircut, but you knew he kept it that way because you liked it. Or so you thought.

He could be a liar.

He could be a traitor.

“Ladies” he greeted, his small smile thinning when he noticed your distress. “My Queen.”

Steve kneeled before you, just like that first afternoon in the rose courtyard. The sight of him made you miss summer and the simplicity of falling in love.

I love you, Steve, you wanted to confess. I love you but that’s not enough anymore.

“What’s wrong, my love?” he whispered and you knew you’d suffer in ways that not even Hydra could conceive if Steve’s love turned out to be a lie.

“We need to talk.”

A bang on his chamber door startled Sam Wilson awake.

In a flash, he grabbed the knife he kept under his pillow and rose, tiptoeing from the bed to the entrance.

“Who is it?” he asked in the most severe voice he could muster.

“It’s Wanda.”

He quickly twisted the lock, sighing when he came face to face with your handmaiden. The candle she was holding made her auburn hair look as if it was painted by the flames of a forest fire. She was hauntingly beautiful.

“You scared me.”

“My apologies, Sir Wilson,” she said. “But the Queen is summoning you.”

Sam nodded.

"I will make myself presentable. Should I meet her at her chambers?"

"No, sir. The Queen requested that you dress appropriately for the weather, and meet her at the stables. She has also commanded you to bring whatever weapons you can carry."

"What?" he exclaimed. "Did something happen?"

"These were my only instructions, sir. Please don't be long."

Wanda turned and rushed down the dark hallway before Sam could ask her anything else. The clock on his mantel told him it was a little past two in the morning. He'd gone to bed a mere four hours earlier, having spent all day reunited with the King and the Council going over the assassination attempt on Lord Stark. You hadn't joined them, but that was expected considering your bond with your uncle - Sam supposed you wouldn't leave Tony's side bedside until he was fully healed.

It wasn't the first time you called for Sam in the middle of the night. He was the Captain of your Queen's Guard and the Queen hardly worked regular hours. But the request for warm clothes and weapons was unexpected, if not suspicious. Still, Sam was fast to dress himself, tucking two daggers inside his boots for good measure before following the path Wanda took.

The Dragon Keep at night was an eerie, unwelcoming place. He didn't believe the legends surrounding your ancestors, but whenever he roamed the fortress at night Sam thought it might have actually been built out of dragon fire, if only for how hostile the hallways were - as hostile as a dragon's mouth, it seemed.

"It's meant to be a stronghold, not a home," you once said, and he wondered if you thought of that yourself or if you were paraphrasing your father.

Sam didn't encounter anyone on his way to the stables but a few wandering rats, yet when he got there he was surprised to see Clint Barton fixing the harnesses of four Thoroughbreds, attached to a black, inconspicuous carriage. In the corner, you, Natasha and Wanda whispered with your heads together. They looked up when he arrived.

"Finally," you said. "I thought I was going to have to come get you myself."

You were trying to be funny, but Sam could only stare at your tired face and sad-looking eyes. You looked stunning as always, in leather breeches and a cloak as dark as the night that waited beyond the gates, but forlorn, distant. As if your lips had never tasted joy and your spirit never roamed freely under sunlight.

"What is this, Y/N?" he asked. "Where is the King?"

Behind you, Natasha and Wanda glanced at each other.

"The King won't be joining us, Sam," you explained. "I need to go on a journey, and I need my best friend to come with me. My crown won't protect us where we're going, in fact, I don't know if it will be worthy of anything at all after tonight. So if you chose to stay I will understand."

Sam shook his head.

"This doesn't make any sense."

"I know," you whispered. "But I can't tell you anything else right now."

Sam Wilson was your first friend. He'd throw pebbles at the window to get your attention while you were studying at Arauta, the Duke of Foghar's ancestral home.

"How come you never play, just study?"

You told him then that you were the princess, and you had to be prepared for the day your father, the King, commanded you to return to the Capital. He giggled then, such a cheerful, melodic blast of glee that you were the trees still remembered it, and cherished the sound of his happiness.

"Yeah, right," he'd snickered. "If you're the princess, then where's your crown?"

When the crown came, Sam stood by you, as a comrade and Knight. And you couldn't help but feel like you were once again asking too much of him.

"Of course I'll go with you, Y/N,” he exhaled, past and present blending together in the space of his breath. "Someone has to look after your royal ass."

He hardly ever saw you cry, but you did when you hugged Natasha goodbye, whispering her a quiet be safe before the entering the coach. The Master of Whispers soon disappeared as the horses started their gallop.

The carriage was way past the city gates when your tears stopped.

The following morning, Bucky Barnes found the King slumped on an armchair by the fireplace of the royal chambers.

The knight was heading to the Armory when Steve’s valet intercepted him, babbling nonsense about the King being in shock and the Queen being nowhere to be found. At first, Bucky was doubtful. All was as it was in the Dragon Keep and perhaps the only thing out of the ordinary was the heavy snow that fell overnight, covering the lands and roads in a thick icy blanket. The staff was still spooked by the attempt on Lord Stark’s life, but the assurance that he would survive soothed their nerves a bit. Yet, the valet had such a haunted look in his eyes that Bucky caved, turning around and following the man to your quarters.

His first knock was light, and so was the second and third. When the fourth knock returned without even a muffled response, he turned the knob slowly, finding the door unlocked.

“Your Majesties?” Bucky announced his presence before entering. He couldn’t see the bed from the entrance, but, even so, he didn’t want to accidentally catch you in a compromised position.

Instead, he saw Steve, wearing the same clothes as the night before, turning your engagement ring on his hand. There was no sign of you.

Bucky mentioned for the valet to leave, before shutting the door. Whatever had happened, it was a conversation he didn’t need to hear.

“Steve?” he said, softer this time, approaching the King as one would an animal.

There were deep, dark circles under his eyes, and his face was puffy from crying. His hair was disheveled, rumpled like the linen shirt stretched across the wide expanse of his shoulders and back. The sparkling blue Sapphire of the ring was the only somehow still managed the catch the light in the dull room.

“Steve?” Bucky repeated, finally standing face to face with this best friend. “What happened?”

“She’s gone,” Steve croaked.

“What?” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. “Who’s gone? The Queen?”

Steve nodded, still not looking up from the ring.

“She said she wanted some time away from the Capital. That what happened to Stark put ‘things in perspective’ for her and that she needed to think about us.”

“But… Where did she go?” the knight stuttered.

“Foghar,” Steve replied. “Sam and Barton escorted her. Her handmaiden went as well.”

Bucky was speechless. He’d bet his sword - hell, his sword and his armor - that you were as in love with Steve as he was with you. You weren’t friends, but after months living in Albeon and watching you interact with various lords and politicians, Bucky could understand why you were so guarded. A Queen’s life was full of hardships and loneliness. Yet, from his conversations with Steve - and how overjoyed he was with your seemingly growing affections - it seemed like your relationship was progressing well. Bucky never expected you to just leave.

“Did she say when she’s returning?” he asked, even though the answer was clear as day on Steve’s desolate face.

The King shook his head.

“I think I was wrong about Y/N, Bucky,” he sniffed. “And I think she was wrong about me, as well.”

“No pal, you can’t mean that,” Bucky exclaimed, leaning forward and gripping Steve’s shoulder. “Perhaps the attempt on Stark’s life scared her. He is very dear to her and maybe she thought it could’ve been you. I don’t know! But you can’t possibly think she doesn’t love you.”

“How can I not think that? She never said it. I gave her everything and at the first hardship she just… Runs.” Steve barked, his voice failing at the end.

He was broken. A thousand battles couldn’t ruin him, but you could.

Another knock came, and Lady Natasha entered.

“Your Grace,” she announced. “Lord Stark is awake. He calls for you.”

Steve gave her an affirmative nod and cleared his throat.

“I’ll see to him right away,” he turned to Bucky. “What are you doing today?”

“I was on my way to see Hill at the Armory. Maybe she can help identify the silver dagger Zemo used to stab Stark.”

For a few seconds, Steve was quiet. Natasha was still waiting by the door, implacable and impassive.

“I need you to do something for me,” the King said. “I need to you ride to Arvenia and escort my father to Court. Leave as soon as possible. I’ll send him a raven explaining that he should expect you.”

It was Bucky’s turn to frown.

“Your father?” he asked, puzzled. “Why?”

“Stark still has months of bed rest,” Steve explained as he laced his boots. “My father was once the Master of Coin. I could use his help.”

It made no sense. Steve’s relationship with his father was strained, to say the least. As far as Bucky knew - and he knew quite a bit when it came to the King - Joseph Rogers was far from being father of the year.

He wouldn't say so as Lady Natasha was still present, but he couldn't help the nagging sensation that this was Steve's way of getting back at you for leaving. And it was a shitty way.

Still, he bowed.

"Anything else, my King?"

Steve looked up, and his handsome face was still flushed and puffy from crying. He was so far from the man that Bucky always knew that it brought a cold dread to his heart.

"No," he replied. "Safe travels, my friend."

Bucky nodded and left the room, without hugging Steve goodbye.