#and then I kept doing the dragon's tears quest only to my horror

[peachssodapop]

Zelda...

I have been utterly inconsolable since I finished the Dragon's Tears questline

[andilovetowrite]

Really in Love? 🔥

Leo Valdez x Reader (Athena Cabin Reader)

Summary: Leo didn’t know what went wrong. One minute, he had a smashing goddess girlfriend and an equally awesome best friend. And the next? One of them in the Apollo cabin, and the other one in the Apollo cabi- well, infirmary.

Warnings: mentions of dying, cheating and some blood. Also some elusions to smut and making out. A lot of angst. That's all I’m gonna say.

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist and Prompt List ;)

100 Follower Sleepover

My requests are also open in case you have any more ideas and prompts!

Life for Leo Valdez had been going good. He had just gotten back from helping Apollo, or Lester, and things had been going well. Calypso had just come back from her camping trip, and she and Leo were inseparable.

Which made things a tiny bit hard for you. You were Leo’s best friend, and right now, you and him were tasked with making the new Big House for the camp. Normally, Chiron would call Annabeth, but since she was out of town with Percy for god knows what (you knew what, he was going to propose to her), he had put you in charge of this project. And since you wanted to make the new structure a bit more technologically advanced, you decided to call Leo in.

And the progress had been going well. Until Leo’s entire attention was given to Calypso. Nowadays, you couldn’t even get a minute alone with your best friend without his annoyingly beautiful and mean gf next to you. And off the record, you had been starting to like Leo a bit. When you both were in the quest, and the only two single ones on the ship, you kinda felt like there was something growing between the both of you.

Turns out you were wrong, because in a few months, after your best friend allegedly “died”, he came back on a flying dragon and a goddess in his arms. Too bad you couldn’t find a boyfriend to take your mind off Leo.

So, life was awkward, but fine. Well….until you got shot in the stomach by an arrow. Yeah, it wasn’t your best moment. It was the day after you had had your one-on-one with Calypso, and you had managed to avoid her, but whenever you tried to get Leo on his own, she just happened to be there. So you decided to get him by himself when you both were working on the project. But before that, you had archery. And least to say, you were quite sufficient at it. So were the rest of your classmates, or at least the people at the training room.

So you knew you didn’t get shot by a fluke. The question was that, who would shoot you?

And you knew the answer. Austin Lake. The only guy in the feild who had some sort of resentment towards you. Why? Because he was your ex. Your breakup wasn’t the smoothest one. There was a whole lot of screaming and yelling. Oh, and a couple of threats and slaps. But you would’nt think that he would shoot you. Where you could potentially die.

So for the rest of the day, while you were in the infirmary with Will, you racked your brain thinking of a reason. But it wasn’t until you saw Calypso walk in that you finally understood. She had come in around the time that Leo would be in his Bunker, banging out dents and marks in his newest projects, with everything else out of his mind. It would be the perfect time to sneak away. At least it would be for Calypso.

You had suspected that Calypso had been cheating on Leo for a while. But you had never had a chance to prove it. Until now, where you had a perfect sight of Calypso and Austin holding hands as they made out at the back of one of the beds.

The sight made you sick to the stomach. Surprisingly, it wasn’t because of Calypso kissing your ex. But rather your best friend’s girlfriend kissing Austin Lake. Your mind went to the hurt look on Leo’s face when he would find out, and you could feel the pain radiating off him.

But you couldn’t keep it from him, so you decided to tell him as soon as possible. Gritting your teeth, you tried to stand up for yourself, pushing your hands against the bed. The pain in your stomach intensified by about a 100x, but nevertheless, you tried to ignore it.

Suddenly, you heard a gentle yet cruel laugh. “Oh Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?” You whipped around to see Calypso standing above you, with Austin at her side, and with one pointed look, he took out an injection, filled with green liquid.

“I’m going to tell Leo-”

“No you aren’t. Because you will not get up to ever tell him”, she said maliciously, as you watched in horror. Austin grabbed your arm, and even though you were stronger than him, the pain medication didn’t allow you to push him back. He brought the needle to your arm, and growled at you, his face turned up in a deep frown. With a slight pinch, he pushed it in harshly, the needle cutting through your flesh. Instantly, you began feeling drowsy, as your vision started swimming.

“Y-ou wo-won’t ge...t away with thi….sss”, you tried to say, but all that came out was strangled mutters.

Calypso laughed, swiping her hand on your fingers as her nails dug into your arm. “Oh sweetie, you can’t possibly think a child of Athena would beat a goddess that’s been around for millenia, right? Otherwise, you would be even more stupid then I thought you were…”

And that was the last thing you heard before you drifted off into a inky black darkness.

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Leo’s POV

Leo walked around the Bunker back and forth, confused on where you were. It was almost 6, and you still hadn’t shown up. Worried, he grabbed his tool belt, tying it around his waist as he left his workspace, going over to the Athena cabin.

“Hey guys”, Leo greeted, trying to spot any sight of you. Malcolm came up to him, his face etched with worry.

“If your looking for Y/N, she was in the infirmary. Apparently, some jackass shot her in the stomach with an arrow. We tried to find who did it, but nothing so far, so we are just waiting for her to wake up.”

As he heard that, he practically started running out the door but he stopped when Malcolm called him back.

“Visiting hours are shut right now. But Austin was the last one to see her, maybe check in his cabin?”

Leo nodded, and although he didn’t like the blond, muscular camper, he still wanted to see how you were doing so he made his way there.

And boy, did he wish he would have gone to see you instead. Because when he walked through the Apollo cabin door, he didn’t expect to see his girlfriend half naked with a shirtless Austin.

“Leo!”, she yelled, covering herself up.

“You-”

She tried to come near Leo, hands reaching for him, but he stepped back, as if her touch was burning hot. “Leo, I didn’t mean to…”, she trailed off, as she began to see the little sparks of fire starting to burst out from his fingers.

She stepped back, and for a second, you could see Leo calm down, wondering if he scared her. But when she reached for Austin’s hand, as she enlaced their fingers together, you could see the fire build up in Leo again.

“How could you-”, he shook his head, not believing it, “I-I was the one who got you off the island” He looked furious, but then his face crumpled as he stared at her. “I lied to my friends. Acted like I was dead for weeks. Just so I could save you, so I could get you off that prison!”

She didn’t say anything, as she just kept looking down at the floor. Half of you hoped that it would just swallow her whole.

“I literally gave my life, and you cheated on me?! You-you knew I had an issue with him-” Realization struck his face as he pieced two and two together. “Th-that’s why you didn’t want me coming with you to the infirmary, did you? Because he would be there. That must be your little get-to-know-you times, huh?”

She tried to shake her head, coming closer to Leo, but he ignited his hands again, this time making them burn bright. “You can’t possibly think that’s why-”

“Oh no, don’t try and make me think of something different. I’m a freaking mechanic Calypso! I wake up if I hear the faintest of sounds, and you wouldn’t think that I would find you sneaking out every night?”

Calypso stared at him, vision swimming with tears, but her face hard. Leo tried to find some bit of her left in there, but gave up, turning around to look for you. “How is-”

“Oh Y/N, I wouldn’t go to see her. Unless you wanna see her bod-”

“What the hell?”, Leo asked, his voice firm, as his mind went into overdrive. “What did you do Calypso?”

“Nothing much..”, she said, but he didn’t hear another word as Will Solace burst into his cabin.

Out of breath, and sweaty, he looked at Leo. “Y/N needs you… she is close to dying”

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That was it, the first part! I’m sorry I didn’t get to the second part, but I think the cliffhanger may add to the storyline, so let’s see if that works out. Thanks so much for requesting this, and I hope you enjoy it :)

[frequentlychangingfandoms]

The Eye of the Phoenix

Merilin stepped carefully toward the cobweb ridden throne, still mindful of the false stones that had trapped her in the room in the first place.

She treaded slowly, uncertain of what she will see sitting in the throne. She peered around it, curious of what she will find, but stopped in her tracks when an old voice rasped out, "So, Emrys, you are here at last..."

Merilin hesitated, wary of the voice, but still she walked till she was standing in front of the throne.

There sat a withered old man, covered head to toe in cobwebs, holding an equally cobweb covered trident in his hand. A golden crown sat atop his head, and it still shined with gems as if it were brand new. His robes were dusty and moth ridden, strands of fabric hanging from his sleeves.

Slowly, the Fisher King turned his head to look at her. His neck protesting from the movement, as it crackled and groaned.

"So you are still alive." she whispered, unbelieving at the man sat in front of her. She watched his wrinkled and pale face as his lips turned up in a gentle, grandfatherly smile.

"For now," he said, his voice as gentle as his smile.

Merilin couldn't help but return his smile with one if her own. She looked down at the trident clutched weakly in the King's hand. She looked back up at him and opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted when she heard rocks crumbling loudly on the other side of the door.

It must be Gwaine and Arthur, they were probably trying to get a way in. She watched the door for a moment, but her gaze was snapped away when she heard the King spoke.

"That'll be your friends, Courage and Strength, I know. Without their help, you would not be here." he said, shaking his head gentle.

She looked at him confused, what did he mean?, she thought. "What is it that you want?" she asked instead. His smile fell from his lips, and he looked away from her, his eyes taking on an unseeing look. He sighed and spoke in a sorrowful tone, "I want an end to my suffering,"

Merilin tilted her head to the side and looked sadly at the withered King. "You want to die," her voice betrayed her and trembled with poorly hidden sadness.

The Fisher King looked back to her and nodded his head, "I have been waiting all these years for the arrival of a new time," his voice held unspoken sorrow and sadness, making Merilin's heart clench. "The time of the once and future King."

Merilin could feel as her eyes started to burn and well up. The words the King spoke were familiar, "I've heard these words before," the were spoken to her by the Great Dragon, and many more. If she were to be honest, she was starting to get tired of hearing them.

The King nodded his head, and his smile returned, he looked at her with a knowing glint in his eye, "And you will hear them again, for that time is dawning. And my time can finally come to an end." his voice soft as he spoke.

Merilin nodded her head weakly and folded her hands behind her back to prevent the King from seeing them shaking. When she said nothing, he continued.

"This is why you were brought here, for this is not Arthur's quest; it is yours. Arthur thinks the prize is the trident,"

He looked at the said forked staff and dropped it to the floor. It clattered against the dusty wooden boards and echoed across the empty room.

Merilin watched as it stilled, her ears not yet processed the words the Fishers King as spoken to her. "For the real prize," he said, looking back at her, "is something far greater."

She started at him confused, still processing the words. The King nodded his head toward the hand that had held the trident for many years, now empty, except it wasn't. Merilin stared at his hand, which now held a vial filled halfway with water that sat securely inside a wooden cage.

He lifted his hand toward her as if offering it to her. "Water... from the lake of Avalon," he whispered, "I have kept it safe for many years, waiting for the right person to claim it, and that person is you, Emrys. You are the one chosen."

Merilin shook her head, not believing the old King sitting in front of her. "What are you talking about?"

"Albion's time of need is near, and in that dark hour, you must be strong, for you alone can save her." was the answer that she got. "Your powers are great, but you will need help. And that is why I am giving it to you,"

He leaned forward, as if wanting to reach out and put it in her hands. The water glistened in the weak light shining through the dirty windows. Her gaze shifted between the King and the vial in his hand, looking to see if he would take it back and say that he was mistaken and that she should leave. But he didn't, simply looked at her expectantly.

She stepped forward and slowly took the vial form his old hand. She had barely touched it when he spoke, "When all seems lost, this will show you the way."

She looked at him, really looked at him. His eyes were dark and looked like they held many untold mysteries and horrors alike, his gentle smile that reminded her so much if her mother, his pale and wrinkled skin that was patched with dark spots that had could only have been caused by age.

Looking down and the vial, she fully took it from him and stepped back. She looked back at the King, and something inside her compelled her to do the following: she leaned down and pressed an gentle kiss to she cheek, like one would do for their grandfather when saying goodbye.

"Thank you," she whispered, and stepped back with a bow. His smile was still there when she looked back at him, even when he sighed and said, "I have given you a gift, now you must give me one in return."

Merilin hesitated, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, "But I have nothing to give," she finally managed. The King sighed again and stood, something she thought he couldn't seeing as he could barely lift his hand and turn his neck. His body creaked and groaned in protest, it having been so long since it had properly moved.

"I think you do," the King said, looking down at her jacket. Suddenly she remembered that bracelet she had taken off of Arthur when she had found him. She reached inside her jacket, the King watched as she pulled the bracelet out, the single gemstone shining as bright as the sun outside.

She looked back at the King, who was still staring at the bracelet in her hands. "If I give you this, you will die." her voice trembled, not wanting to do what the King was going to ask of her.

The King said nothing, instead he held out his hand. She knew what he wanted, and she was reluctant to give it to him. She twiddled with the bracelet, her hands shaking. She looked back at the King, his smile had turned from gentle, to reassuring. He nodded at her, and she nodded back, she stepped forward slightly and sank to one knee.

She took a deep breath and placed the bracelet on the King's wrist. She watched as the gem glowed, the King lifted his hand in the air, admiring the very thing that is going to kill him.

She looked away as she heard thunder rumble in the background and felt was wind slapped against her cheek. The wind howled and lifted the dust from the ground, creating a whirlwind around the King. She covered her face and stood again.

When the wind and thunder had stopped, she opened her eyes and looked at the empty stop where the Fisher King had stood only moments ago.

"Thank you,"

The King's voice echoed in her head, it kept all she had to stop the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks. She stared at the now barren throne, not believing what she had just done.

Her eyes were snapped away when she heard the stone door sliding open. Near the bottom it had opened up and Arthur had crawled in just as it had opened wide enough, Gwaine soon followed him.

"Merilin," Arthur said, confused as to why she was standing in the empty room. She simply smiled at him, the prince shook his head and walked pass her while he gave her a pat on the arm.

She turned back to look at him but turned back when she heard Gwaine approaching her. She smiled and him too but was surprised when he pulled her into a crushing embrace. He mumbled something to her, but she couldn't hear what it was because Arthur had announced loudly that he had found the trident.

The two looked at the blond prince as he walked past them, "Now let's get out of this place," he said, disappearing through the door. Gwaine followed after him, leaving Merilin behind. She looked back at the empty throne, then turned to go after the two men.

[babygirlkiki1016]

Masterlist

Chapter 9: Love Vs Rage

Chapter 10: A lovely Bond

My hand clasped over my mouth at the words I had spoken, I didn't mean for it to come out. It was as if on instinct, but Thorin didn't seem to mind, he didn't take his eyes off me. And for the first time since the beginning of this trip, I saw love and adoration in those ocean blue orbs. His cheeks turned light pink at my comment, slowly he stood his chest almost against mine.

"You love me?" He muttered, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "How can you love me amralime?" It was him, the same rough voice from earlier, he is the one who called me that.

"I don't know, but when I'm around you, your who my heart belongs to. It's why I left because I thought my feelings were getting in the way. I thought love was getting in the way but it was rage, I can't blame you no matter how much I want to. And I admire your bravery and courage, but throughout this quest, each piece of my heart had attached itself to you. Maybe it was your leadership or your kind words, or maybe it was something entirely different but I'm positive about one thing Myis Ravos (My raven), I love you. And...I forgive you." Tears rolled down his cheeks as he held in a sob the best he could but failed. His strong arms wrapped around me and he nuzzled his face into my neck.

"I love you too...Promise you won't leave again, promise me that we'll stay together no matter how hard this journey gets. Cause losing you just for a few hours broke me, I didn't want to move. I didn't want to do anything without you by my side." My hands slid up his back, but before I could enjoy the warm hug from him I felt his wound.

"I will if you promise to let me treat your injuries." He chucked but groaned as it hurt his chest, I helped him sit back down. The rag in my hand ran over his skin again, wiping away the blood and dirt from the surface. "Promise me you won't be so reckless, I don't know what I would do if I lost you." He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles lightly.

"Same goes for you." I couldn't help but smile, I didn't feel angry anymore. I felt loved and happy, I haven't felt like this in a long time. I kept cleaning the blood off, and when I was finished I took a step back to see if I missed anything.

"Alright, get into the bath I'll bring some lathers." As he begins to undress I rummaged through the basket of pink and purple bars, none was a manly type of smell but I highly doubt he would mind. "I have lavender, and cherry but beware both will make you smell like a woman." He laughed and turned around in the pool, the ends of his hair were now wet. I had this weird feeling to get in there with him, my legs rubbed together in excitement. Quickly I dismissed the thought and handed him the soaps but before I turned away he clutched my arm.

"Join me, for I am not able to flex my body like I'm used to. I believe I acquire assistance, I might just miss a spot." His fingers reach to the hem of my shirt, slowly undoing the ribbon tying it together.

"You've been bathing yourself for many years Thorin, I think you can handle this on your own." I didn't stop him from sliding my shirt down my shoulders, nor when he started to undo my bindings.

"I won't look if that's what you worried about, I trust my men but they sometimes can't help but let their eyes wander. I don't want them to see you bare." His touch leaves me, and he looks away so I'd be more open to the idea of joining him. He did have a point, I care for these dwarves but sometimes urges can take over. I shed the rest of my clothes, letting them join his that remained on the stone. He tensed up for a second as he felt the water move, he knew I was in now. "Lavender?" He held out the bar of soap, which I gladly took from him. His breathing became more rapid, he was nervous for I was too close.

"Nervous my king?" I said sarcastically as I ran the soap over his back, he leaned into my touch like it was heavenly.

"A little, I've never been in the presence of such a beautiful woman." He glanced back at me for a moment before turning forward again, he really wanted to look. "The things I said before, I didn't mean them, I meant something entirely different. At first, I was just being rude, but over time I fell for you. When I called you weak and a burden, I wanted you to go home for I do not wish to see you hurt. And when I called you a whore, it was because I was jealous of the stares the rest were giving you." Elrond was right, this entire time he loved me, but what about what he said at the bridge? Is this all just a plan to make me help him?

"And what about the bridge, when you were talking to Dwalin?"

"I knew you heard, at the moment I was trying to push you away. I too was afraid of what my feelings would bring, but when I noticed the rest started to be protective of you I realized they had accepted you as one of their own. I truly do love you, Uslukhuê kurdu, (Dragon of my heart). And I do not wish to push away my feelings any longer. If I may ask, will you let me court you?" I smiled at his offer, now that I think about it he was the one who courted me. The one who gave me more food in my bowl than the others.

"I believe you've already had, but I accept your offer Thorin." He sighed in relief, but something else remained on his mind.

"May I turn around? There is something I wish to do." I hummed in response and slowly he faced me, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips which I returned. "You are mine amralime, and no one can take you from me."

~♪♠♪~

After we cleaned up, I made sure that Thorin had a new pair of clothes that was stowed away in one of the chests after I bandaged his torso. The rest took their pick of the pile, and what surprised me was that they enjoyed the design upon the cloth.

"Y/n," Thorin called with a brush and a small silver bead in hand. He sat down next to me on a stool with his legs spread apart. Without another word, I sat between them, and he began to brush my hair softly. "This is the reason we dwarves keep our hair long, so our lover can braid it. It's a symbol showing that we're taken, and I'm glad I get to share it with you. What about you? What are your counting rituals?"

"We don't have much, it's normal human ways of courting. Gifting each other with flowers and chocolates, the only different thing is the wedding. When two of my kin want to marry, they need to get permission from either the King or Queen. We may have a huge kingdom but we treat it like a small town. If they receive permission then a wedding is planned, the entire kingdom will be there to see it. You'll have your party where you mingle with guests before you do the private ceremony of the night." He brushed my hair back towards him while running his fingers through it, I leaned back slightly enjoying the sensation.

"What is the private ceremony?"

"The private ceremony seems like nonsense, but it's very important. If the two wish to go through with it, they will have a bowl of paint infused with the blood of a royal. You need the blood of a royal to make it work, but each one will paint its markings on the other. It's a private ceremony because both of the two are going to be bare when this happens, after the painting is in place they will make a promise and the paint is now infused with their skin." Setting down the brush he grabbed a lock of my hair and started to braid it, he seemed focused like it was a masterpiece.

"What happens if they break that promise?"

"It depends on the situation, if one chooses to break their promise on purpose, the one who broke the promise is not allowed to marry again. For the marking burns into their skin, that way each digonisk knows that they are not to be intimate with anyone ever again. The other who remained faithful are allowed to remarry, for the symbols will disappear. However if one breaks it by accident, say a life or death situation and it is proven to be true there is a spell that the royal can cast to remove them." I looked up at him for a second, a smirk on my face as he looks down at me in slight horror.

"Still wish for me to be yours?" That look of fear was wiped off instantly, he kissed my forehead and tilted my head back up so he could finish his braid.

"That is one way to keep someone loyal, maybe my kin should have something like that. Although yes, I wish to still be with you, until death does us part." He holds out the braid he finished. "Hold it for me." I carefully grabbed the end with my fingers as he goes to braid another lock on the other side.

"What kind of braid is this?"

"Well you have to defeat Smaug, so this braid will help you keep your hair out of your face."

"Is it true that once your hair is braided you can never take it out again?"

"Only your other can take it out and fix it, if you do it yourself it shows you do not care about the courtship. Which once I'm done, you will braid my hair as the process states."

"And I can braid it in any way I want?" A mischievous smile came across my features, which he chuckled for he knew what I was doing.

"Anyway, you want." He grabs the braid that rested between my fingers and intertwined the two together.

"Interesting, perhaps I'll braid it in front of your face to give you a longer beard."

"If I die because of my inability to see I blame you." He clipped my hair with the bead and kissed my temple while wrapping his arms around me. "Who knew you were such a prankster, I think my nephews are a bad influence for you."

"Oh please you haven't seen anything yet, back in the kingdom of Larthas I was constantly scolded by my parents for always leaving presents for the maids. One time, I put a bucket of mud on the top of her door, and let's just say she wasn't happy. It took her hours to get the mud out of her hair." He laughed as we switched places, his hand stroked my leg gently. I summoned an ethereal bead making it into a solid object, on it there lied a dragon symbol.

"So what braid are you thinking of?" I wanted it to be special, something that showed it could only be made by me.

"Choose a color."

"Red (Or whatever color you prefer)." I conjured a red ribbon and began to braid his hair. (I'll leave that up to you guys, but I would do something like this.)

Everyone's jaws dropped at my handiwork, especially Thorin, the moment he got up and looked in the mirror his heart stopped.

"How on earth did you manage to do that?" His eyes lit up with excitement but I could feel the jealousy radiating off of him. He traced the design, he almost couldn't stop staring at it. "Never mind that, come back over here I'll show what I can really do with that h/c hair of yours."

@fili-is-my-lover @kirenia15 @lunariasilver @depressedchilipepper @tschrist1 @ayamenimthiriel

[rideboldlyride]

Calloused

Summary: Iroh hadn’t been able to watch. The pure horror of a man - a father- burning their child for a slight infraction... He couldn’t do anything to stop it, but he will stop his brother from destroying entirely the kind boy he knew Zuko could be.

(I’ll post this in the morning to AO3, but I really wanted to get this out today, since it’s been something I wanted to write since I began Perfect.)

[EDIT: here’s the link!]

Iroh was not surprised, but deeply saddened when the news reached him at his nephew's bedside. It arrived inconspicuously, in the hand of an unassuming and unmarked guard. The only thing to identify the origin of the letter was the Fire Lord’s insignia on the seal.

“By Order Of Fire Lord Ozai,

Former Crown Prince Zuko is hereby stripped of both rank and home, and forthwith banished from the lands, commonwealth and colonies held by the Fire Nation, for the crime of dishonoring the Fire Lord, and bringing shame upon the Throne of the Fire Nation. Immediately, upon receipt of notice, the Crown Prince is to move with all reasonable haste from the Nation and its Territories, lest he wish to face the Lord’s wrath.

By the Decree of the Fire Lord,

Long May He Rule in Agni’s Light.”

His brother’s firm, bold character at the bottom of the notice left no doubt of his perspective on the matter. Disgusted, Iroh hefted his solid frame from the chair beside his resting nephew’s sick bed. The healers had already come and gone -- there was no certainty that the young man was going to regain sight in his injured eye, and the ointment used to coat and soothe the burn was only to dull the pain. Due to the extent and severity of the burn, there was a great chance of infection. The only thing that kept the young man from screaming out in pain was the tranquilizing tea he was coerced to swallow down between his feverish episodes. 

If the Fire Lord was following the tradition associated with banishment, Zuko was to be moved immediately. The Dragon was certain what that would spell for the young man, and was determined to prevent any more loss of those he loved. 

Turning to the menservants hovering near the young man’s bedside, he located the one in charge. 

“Whatever may happen while I am gone,” the retired general leveled a steely gaze at him, his amber eyes leaving no room for failure, “no one is to move the Prince. If anyone, guards or otherwise, arrives to take him away, send for me at one.”

The young man, hardly older than the 13 year old in the bed, nodded sagely. Face softening, the General nodded slightly, then made his way out the door. As he entered the hallway, he allowed the storminess that had brewed inside him from the moment he had heard of the Agni Kai, to finally show upon his face. Ozai might be Fire Lord, but to Iroh, he was still his obnoxious little brother. Once upon a time, he might have felt a certain pity for him, but the years had not been kind to his disposition. While this once may have been a factor to consider on the part of the older brother, the public humiliation and mutilation of his own son had put what once may have been pity far from his mind. Instead, Iroh felt the rage of a thousand suns build in his belly. The Dragon of the West had made up his mind, and he knew he had the strength behind his words to fulfill what task lay before him. 

Ozai deserved no son of this caliber.

To Iroh, as he had given up his right as Crown Prince when he chased his lost son to the Spirit World, Ozai had lost his right as father to Zuko the moment he laid a scorching hand on his son’s face.

With that determination and fire in his eye, no guard stepped forward to stop him as he flung open the doors to his younger brother’s private study.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Dragon’s words hissed, the notice of Zuko’s banishment raised in a barely restrained fist.

“The boy dishonored my general and I.” Without turning away from the fireplace, the Fire Lord - his brother, Iroh reminded himself - responded coldly. He knew Iroh would come in with fire on his heels, and it gave the old general pause. “He must learn the path of honor through pain and shame.”

The Fire Lord turned in his chair by the raging fire. Did he have to keep the fireplace going even in the middle of summer?? Iroh kept the thoughts to himself, exasperated at his brother’s jockey for relevance and drama. Instead, he watched as the dismissal danced across the younger man’s face. Fury continued to eat at the Dragon’s belly.

“Was his public humiliation not enough for you, Ozai?!”

A scowl pulled at his lips, and amber eyes turned back to the burning fire. 

“No.” 

The response was simple and quiet. Yet, within it Iroh could hear the disgust, the disdain of his own son. All the things that had wronged his brother, real or imagined, they were laid solidly at a thirteen year old boy’s feet. And with a simple act - a scrawl of ink on parchment - he could send his son away with those guilts upon his shoulders.

“You send him away,” Iroh’s voice was quiet, but his words held steel, “with nothing to fight for. You wound him, physically shaming him, in such a way that he will never escape, to wander lands he is not welcome to. You leave him with nothing!”

Incredulousness licked like flames at the older man’s heels. “You don’t even give him a purpose! What do you wish for, Ozai? For him to die?”

Slowly, the Fire Lord stood from his chair before the fire, his slim silhouette cut an intimidating figure before the flames. They rose precariously higher before falling again. It followed a steady pattern. Iroh watched as his shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh, smoke curling from his lips, pulled into a sneer. 

“I wish for him to learn the pain that his existence has brought upon me.”

Aghast, Iroh took a step back from the firebender, wishing he had never heard his brother speak so callously of his own son. For a moment, he attempted to envision a situation where his anger could have ever led him to speak so heartlessly of his dear Lu Ten, and his imagination fails him. He swallows hard before continuing.

“You wish upon him a fate worse than the death you could have easily wrought. And you give him no goal for him to reach for - no chance for his own reinstatement to a place of honor before you.” Even as he speaks, the horror of the Agni Kai still sits behind his eyes, the young boy’s screams in his ears. “Give him something, Ozai. Something to attain.”

A dark laugh reached his ears, and stately, Ozai turned to his brother, disgust evident across his features. 

“This is why you would have failed as a Fire Lord, Iroh. You cling on to hope for those who do not deserve it. The boy was born weak, and he will die the same. Weak. You want to give him hope that he will live to be more than he is capable of. 

“‘It is the duty, nay, the privilege of the mighty to cull the weak. To pull the thorns and thistles from the lilies, so they may grow, devoid of the leeches of the unculled.’ Or have you forgotten your duty, Iroh?” 

Amber eyes narrowed. “You may quote from our father as much as you wish. But I recall my younger brother, scared and barely able to stand, cowering before our grandfather, much as your son did before you.”

Eyes like fiery coals rounded on him, wide. “And I fought back. I learned strength! That child has learned nothing! He cowers and cringes and scrapes, and never once does he stand!”

“But he did. He stood for what he thought was right. And for that, you marred him. He has stood before you in the past. Stood between you and his sister, even if she is unaware.” Iroh’s voice dropped dangerously. “How many hits has he taken since Ursa left, Ozai? He cowers before a volcano he cannot hope to stop. And now you tell him he is adrift amongst the lava flow.”

“What would you have me do?!” Ozai stood close, almost nose to nose with his older brother, and washes his expression of disgust with the smoke from his lips as he hissed.

“Give him a quest. Give him hope for his return. A way for him to redeem himself in your eyes. For that is the only person he begs that from.”

“Fine.” The Fire Lord turned away, moving back to the fire.

Iroh nods despite the sensation of dread suddenly curled like a snake in his belly. It was not like Ozai to give in without more of a fight. 

“Tell me, Iroh, respected General and Dragon of the West; what is the greatest threat to the Fire Nation?”

Without thought, Iroh speaks, the words of his father and his father’s father ingrained into his subconscious. 

“The Avatar.”

A malicious glint catches at the younger man’s eye, casting a smirk over his shoulder to his brother.

“No.” It escapes Iroh’s chest like a death rattle. “It’s an impossible mission.”

The glint hardens like steel. “If my son wishes to prove himself to me, he will find it possible.”

***

Not a full day beyond the fateful Agni Kai, Iroh stood at the cusp of the bow of a small, decommissioned Fire Navy frigate, his back turned away from his nation as the coast disappeared behind him. The salty breeze whipped away the tears that attempted to fall. He had left Caldera City, Ember Island, the Fire Nation itself, before, and he was free to return whenever he so desired. The young man he now accompanied, however, no longer held the same option. His tears fell only for the lost youth in the belly of the ship. 

Even as the last tendrils of steam from the Caldera City mountain disappeared into the horizon, he heard the commotion rise from below. The general made his way down below deck, and the doors to the young man’s room were left ajar. As he entered, sad eyes fell upon the young man who struggled against the ship’s only medic - an old field officer unprepared for this sort of wanton injury - trying to restrain him. Iroh rushed to his side, pulling the young man into his arms. 

At first, the boy struggled against him, pushing him away. His freshly shaved head glistened from the exertion, combined with the after effects from his severe burn. The struggles became sluggish, and slowly the young boy sagged into the embrace. Iroh didn’t notice when the medic took his leave, a small jar left on the nightstand beside some fresh bandages, or that he made certain to close the door completely as he exited.

A soothing hand circled the young man’s upper back, as the cries of pain mixed with his tears of shame. Through the hiccuping sobs, he managed to get out a few words.

“Why- whe-where am I? W-What happened?”

“That is for another day, Prince Zuko.” 

[scariusaquarius]

in all of my life.

Uncle! Thorin & Niece! Rhis

---

A/n: first commission piece is finished <3 For my lovely friend @cassiabaggins​! I hope you enjoy!

-

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort Rated: General Warning: Angst, Swearing

-

Author: dabisburntnut

-

Sleepless. That was all that Thorin was as he lied in his bed. As the moon hung full and bright within the night sky, the stars twinkling at him, Thorin was stuck thinking back on Erebor. The memories of dragon-fire and burnt flesh filled his lungs and nostrils once again while families screamed and ran from the mountain in terror. For years, Thorin had been sleepless while the memories ran through his mind over and over.

He had to reclaim the mountain. He had to. There was no other choice than to do what his father had wanted to do and that was reclaim the home the dwarves of Erebor once knew.

Sighing, Thorin sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. There was no way that he was going to get any sleep tonight. Rolling out of bed, he slipped on a pair of his boots and grabbed his sword, strapping it to his side and silently shuffled out of his room. When he passed the kitchen, however, he was surprised to see that his sister, Dis, was wide awake as well.

A warm cup of tea was in her hands, fingers rubbing at her forehead as she sat silently. Her hair was unbraided, unruly as it cascaded down her back, and Thorin hummed, making her jump.

“Why are you still awake?”

“Mahal, Thorin. Announce yourself next time.”

Thorin chuckled as he walked in, sitting down before Dis as she took a few calming breaths, wiping her face clean.

“My apologies, I did not realize you were going deaf so soon.”

Dis gave an annoyed growl, and the two of them chuckled after a pregnant pause before Dis sighed and thumbed the rim of her tea cup.

“I am worried for us, Thorin…for my children. This quest…it will not be safe nor easy.”

Thorin sighed deeply, shaking his head slightly at Dis.

“You will have nothing to worry about, Dis. This quest will not be in vain. I am sure of it.”

“I know it won’t be…but what are you willing to sacrifice for that mountain, Thorin?”

Thorin growled in annoyance, leaning back in his chair.

“Dis, I have already told you that I will not be allowing Fili, Kili, nor Rhis on this quest.”

Dis bit her lip, whispering after a moment.

“Thorin, Fili and Kili are grown. They will not appreciate you leaving them behind like so…but I do incredibly fear for Rhis. My only daughter…I can’t lose her, Thorin.”

Dis began to tear up, and Thorin shook his head, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

“My sister, you will not have to fear for Rhis for she will not be coming with me.”

“I’m what?”

Thorin and Dis perked up, and there stood Rhis at the archway into the kitchen, eyes wide in disbelief. Thorin internally groaned at the fight that was surely about to ensue. How stubborn this dwarrowdam was! How many times did Thorin have to tell her that she could not attend the quest? Thorin gave Rhis a look, saying as calmly as he could.

“Rhis, I cannot allow you on this quest. I have told you time and time again why you are not accompanying me.”

Rhis’ brow immediately furrowed, her brown eyes blazing with a fierce temper that Dis swore was just like Thorin’s.

“And I have told you time and time again that I am just as fit for the quest as Fili and Kili! I’m not a child anymore, Uncle Thorin! Why does Kili get to go when he’s not that much older than I am?”

Thorin’s fists clenched and he growled out, replying.

“I am not arguing with you about this again. You are not coming with me and that is final!”

Rhis yelled back, pointing at Thorin and walking closer to him.

“Explain it, then! You haven’t explained a single damn reason on why I can’t go!”

Dis stood up, giving Rhis a pleading look.

“Rhis, please-“

“No, amad! Thorin can’t just tell me that I can’t go when he’s letting my brothers go. It isn’t fair! I’m completely capable of being on this quest. I can do this! He just doesn’t want me there. I know he doesn’t!”

Thorin became reserved, hissing down at Rhis.

“You are right. I do not want you there. I don’t want you on this quest because if something happens to you, that will be your blood on my hands. My own kin! I will not let my only niece on a quest that can end in only dragon-fire!”

“But yet you’ll let your nephews accompany you on the quest? Your direct heirs? That hardly makes any sense!”

Thorin knew that he was backed into a corner. Truthfully, Thorin wasn’t comfortable with letting Rhis on the quest because she was, in fact, his only niece. Dwarrowdams were incredibly rare in Erebor, and Rhis was a truly amazing blessing for the line of Durin. Thorin knew that if he let Rhis on this quest, he would become too distracted in his need to protect her.

“I can’t let you on this quest. You will be a liability.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Dis gasped and exclaimed, giving Rhis a look of disapproval.

“Rhis! I have told you to not say such words! You are not a barbarian, you are a lady!”

Rhis gave her mother an incredulous look.

“Are you serious? Are you really going to berate me for a single word when your own brother is being an asshole with many?”

Thorin hissed at Rhis, giving her an angry look.

“Tread carefully, Rhis.”

“Fuck you! What could you possibly mean by me being a liability? I can protect my damn self. I don’t need you!”

Thorin’s next word was caught in his throat, and Rhis let the fire unleash upon Thorin, her face practically turning red as she yelled and screamed her hatred and profanities.

“I never needed you to protect me! I can protect myself! It’s because of Dwalin that I even can because you never wanted to teach me how to fight! Why, because I’m a lady and you need to protect your ‘precious niece’? You can’t protect me anymore, Thorin!”

Tears began to stream down her angered face, Rhis pointing at Thorin and looking at him with all the hatred she could muster in her aching heart.

“All the bad things that have happened to our kin and our family are because of you! I hate you! I hate you and I hope you never come back from the quest!”

Thorin felt his heart drop into his stomach, watching as Rhis ran out of the room, and he hardly even registered Dis’ gasp from beside him.

‘I hate you.’

‘I hate you and I hope you never come back from the quest.’

Rhis’ words ran through Thorin’s mind a mile a minute, knowing exactly what she had meant by those last few words.

‘I hope you die.’

Thorin was sure that he hadn’t felt such a terrible feeling settle into his stomach since the death of his grandfather and the disappearance of his father. Thorin felt almost sick, and Dis said to him.

“Thorin-“

“Leave it. If she wishes for my death, then so be it.”

Thorin stalked out of the kitchen, and Dis could do nothing but sit back down and place her face into her hands. Oh, how everything seemed to be falling apart as quickly as they had come into place.

-RHIS POV-

As she ran out of the home and into the fields, Rhis couldn’t help but to cry and sob in anger. How many times had she begged to go onto this quest? How many times had she proved herself capable? Rhis did not butt heads with Thorin about it to anger him or purposefully annoy him…but truthfully, she really did want to help. Erebor was her home too, wasn’t it? And not only that, Fili and Kili were going to be accompanying him.

To Rhis, it felt like Thorin was simply singling her out because she was the only dwarrowdam who would be going.  So what if she was a lady? She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Hell, she didn’t even need Dwalin to protect her anymore because of how amazing of a teacher he had been to her; from how far she had come in her skill.

But then Rhis began to replay the argument within her head, more angry tears coming to her face, and she finally collapsed against the large oak tree that was situated in the middle of the field. Bringing her knees up to her chest, Rhis was torn. How could she tell her uncle that she basically hoped that he was killed? He would never forgive her for saying such a thing.

Never would she forget the look of utter horror and despair that crossed his face when she said those words to him.

Oh Mahal, how could she say that?

As Rhis cried and rocked slightly, she was oblivious to Thorin approaching her until he sat down next to her. Rhis shot her gaze up at him and wiped her eyes, hissing out through her sniffles.

“What are you doing here?”

“Rhis, I can’t allow you on the quest because the thought of even the possibility of you getting hurt or worse…it makes my heart ache.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Thorin whispered softly, holding his hand up.

“Please, allow me to finish…if you still think ill of me, I will never bother you again.”

Rhis swallowed thickly, and Thorin still did not meet her gaze. Taking a deep breath, Thorin took her silence as compliance and then explained.

“Your mother has kept you incredibly close since your birth…and because of that, you know naught of the world and the horrors that it bears unto you. You have never experienced war, and that is what this quest will surely end in…a war between dragon-fire and dwarven steel.”

Thorin’s eyes closed and he took a deep yet shaky breath.

“I have already lost so much of my kin…had lost what life I could have lived…I could not save your great-grandfather and still, your grandfather stays missing…I have failed my kin too many times, and I cannot fail and lose someone I love very much again; especially someone who has yet to experience the world.”

Thorin cupped Rhis’ face gently, laying his forehead on hers as she sniffled and choked on her breath.

“Rhis, I cannot lose you. It already pains me to know that Fili and Kili will be attending. I have fought against it since the day they found out, and still, they will not listen to me. I need you to listen to me. Should Fili, Kili, and I perish…there is still someone that Dis may hold onto.”

Rhis replied softly, shaking her head a bit.

“But it scares me, Uncle…who is going to protect you while you’re protecting the company? You…you need me. You need me, right?”

“I do, but I need you here with your mother. She will mourn for us in our absence, and I cannot stand the thought of my sister mourning alone. Rhis, your mother needs you more than I do. You need to stay here and live your life the best that you can while I am absent. You still have so much to learn.”

Thorin bit his lip, trying to keep his eyes from filling up with tears.

“I do not say this to hurt you, you understand, don’t you?”

Rhis could not deny that a part of her was still angry; that a part of her still wanted to go on the quest. There was nothing else she wanted more than to prove that she was just as good as her brothers; that she could fight just like them…but Thorin had a point. What about her mother? Who was going to be here with her mother? Rhis bit her lip, the tears filling back up as her words from the previous argument filled her head.

“I’m so sorry, Uncle Thorin.”

“No, do not apologize to me. I know that you want to experience the world and prove that you are as good as your brothers, but believe me when I say that this is not the way to experience it. I know that you are capable. I am not oblivious to your efforts.”

Rhis began to sob again, asking him.

“Then why do you ignore me? Why do you favor Fili and Kili over me?”

“I do not favor Fili nor Kili over you. They are my direct heirs, and they must be taught the way of royalty…there is nobody else for them to follow and learn from.”

Rhis looked down at her lap, biting her lip again as she sniffled, and Thorin asked her softly.

“Please do not cry. I love you just the same as I love your brothers. You are my kin, and I would do anything for you…I just can’t let you on the quest, Rhis. You are still so incredibly young…and I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you. If I lost you, Fili, and Kili all at once…there would not be much for me to look forward to.”

Oh Mahal, please don’t say it. Rhis shook her head and she apologized.

“I’m so sorry for saying what I did. I didn’t mean it, I swear. I love you so much and I do want you to come back. I do. I’m so sorry.”

Thorin kissed Rhis’ head gently, finally allowing a tear to fall from his eyes as he embraced her.

“Hush, little one. I know you did not mean it.”

That was a lie. A stone-cold lie, but Thorin would never dare to reveal that. In all honesty, he did not expect for this to so swimmingly. How long would this peace last? Thorin’s eyes slowly opened, staring out at the vast and beautiful land, and he whispered softly.

“I will reclaim our homeland, Rhis. I will reclaim our homeland and you will never have to worry about anything ever again.”

“But I’ll always worry about my kin, Uncle Thorin.”

She said softly, holding onto his tunic and keeping her head against his shoulder and neck, basking in this moment of stillness…of quiet tranquility and understanding.

Though Rhis was young, Rhis knew that her uncle was very right. She knew that in the end, he would reclaim their homeland and give them an even more prosperous life as King under the Mountain…but still, she feared. Still, Rhis did not wish for her uncle and brothers to be alone on this quest.

However, just for tonight, Rhis would settle her case until the time of the quest truly came upon them. Deep down, Rhis knew that it would spark another argument…but for the safety of her kin, she was willing to sacrifice the calmness that had come over her and Thorin. She couldn’t allow herself to be pushed out like this.

And she never would.

[END]

I hope you enjoyed this, darling <3

[abigailsfictionalothers-archive]

Never Stopped Thinking About You - Alistair x Me

A/N: Welcome to my first ever self shipping one shot!!! It’s definitely not my best work ever, but I felt pretty awkward about it, so I kind of just wanted to get this out there! I probably won’t push this very hard since I feel awkward about it, but I hope people enjoy it nonetheless!

Also, I should note that my s/I is 100% just me adapted to the Dragon Age setting, but also aged up by quite a few years for plot convenience! My s/I is 27 in this. Also for those that don’t know I sometimes use she and they pronouns interchangeably and I was feeling she/her for this one! I go back and forth but stuck with she/her throughout here.

Word Count: 1491

Warnings: Mentions of character death, angst with a happy ending

~~~

Wallace had underestimated how difficult it would be, being so close to Alistair after all this time. It had been almost ten years since they had last spoken, before he had reached out, and the years had numbed the pain.

Time had made it more and more obvious that Wallace had grown to love him during their time battling the Fifth Blight, and while it hurt like hell to realize it, at least she hadn't been around him when she had. If she never planned to see him in person again, what did it matter? He would always just be the man she had loved, who she lost when he became king.

Wallace had been doing fairly well for herself on her own. Turns out lots of people are willing to hire a veteran of the Fifth Blight for a myriad of things, which found her work as an adventurer all across Thedas.

She met up with old friends from time to time. She kept in constant contact with Leliana, and saw Zevran regularly. She'd spoken with Oghren from time to time, and had even received a letter or two from Morrigan. But she didn't dare reach out to Alistair, and he never sent anything for her either.

Until just a few weeks ago, when she had gotten a letter with the Ferelden royal seal on it. It was addressed, To my dearest friend, and from there onward, she knew damn well she was hooked on anything he would ask. When he asked if she would accompany him to go on an epic quest to discover what had happened to his long-lost father, that was just the cherry on top.

Their reunion had been awkward. They met in a very busy port, which didn't help, and were accompanied by the pirate and the dwarf he had asked to help as well, who definitely didn't help. When all that occurred was a firm handshake and a soft, "It's good to see you. I knew I could trust you with this," Wallace tried to not be disappointed.

After trekking through an Antivan swamp with him, breaking into a Crow prison, and facing perilous danger, she had been reminded of all the reasons she had loved him in the first place, and it hurt. Now here they were on Isabela's boat, on their way to Tevinter, and Wallace was sequestered away in the cabin she'd been given, begging her mind to stop screaming the words to my dearest friend.

The knocking on her door startled her. "Come in!"

To her shock, horror, desperation, it was Alistair who opened the door. His demeanor was still awkward, "May I?"

Wallace merely nodded. He stepped in further and closed the door behind him, standing there uncomfortably. "How are you?"

It occurred to Wallace now that the last time he had asked her that exact question was at Brosca's funeral. "I'm fine. These are the details of your father's disappearance we're learning here; how are you?"

He stopped for a moment to ponder the question. "As good as I can be, all things considered. That's sort of why I wanted to speak to you - I wanted to ask you something." Wallace almost shivered with fear.

"Ask away."

"Why did you never write?"

Wallace began blinking in shock. "Is that really-"

"Please. I know, this is all about Maric, but it's for me, there are things about my life that I need to know before I go crazy, and this is one of them. It might not be the most appropriate time, but I'm not sure when there will be another where I have the opportunity to ask. Why?"

Why hadn't she? For the longest time, she thought it was because she's missed Brosca too much to be connected to remnants of that life. Yet, she emulated the lifestyle every day, and she began talking to everyone else soon enough. Then she figured it would be inappropriate for her to write to the King of Ferelden casually. Now, here they were, face to face after a casual letter, and everyone they met assumed the were old friends easily enough, accepting their casual relationship with no question. Wallace had trouble coming up with many more excuses, so she went with as close to the truth as her own heart would let her.

"I didn't know what to say. The last time we spoke in person was after Brosca- I didn't talk to anyone for a while after that. And then I figured you were a king now, what right did I have to be writing to you? What could I even say, after that year? When you never did either... I guess I just gave up trying."

He seemed distressed by the confession, "So that's it? You were just content to never speak to me again?"

"I figured it was better for both of us." She presented.

"Better? Than what? Staying in contact? Supporting each other? You were always one of my greatest support systems - I needed you after all that more then anyone." He seemed surely confused now.

Wallace flinched, but in the wake of her curiosity, she held firm, "If you needed me so badly, why did you never write me first then?"

"I was afraid of what you'd say." The confession came with no hesitation, and his awkwardness had fallen away in place of a new surety. That was new from the last eight years.

"Afraid? What did you have to be afraid of from me?"

"That you wouldn't want me anymore." He spoke softly, earnestly, "I feared that you would think I'd changed once I accepted the crown, that you wouldn't want anything to do with me then. On top of it, I... I can't lie anymore, I had feelings for you from the beginning. Romantic feelings, that is. I feared that if I brought it up, it would be too much for you, or worse, that you would simply reject me, whatever your reasons might have been."

Wallace's throat ran completely dry, but her eyes watered, "You... had feelings for me?"

Alistair laughed lightly, "I never stopped. I guess that's why it plagues me so much, even in light of recent developments. I guess I had to know if you ever felt the same way, if maybe you never wrote for the same reasons I did. But it's alright, that you just gave up. I suppose I would have to, and you're right, it's not like I ever wrote either. That bit's on me. Perhaps I should go-"

"I loved you too!" She found herself screaming before she could stop herself. "Love, you too. Present tense. I always did. I didn't know what to say because I figured I never stood a chance with a king, so I gave up to give myself the distance and spare myself the heart ache. I figured you had stopped thinking about me at all."

It was Wallace's turn to see Alistair's eyes watering, "I never stopped thinking about you, for a single second since the last moment I saw you."

Wallace couldn't restrain herself from rushing at him and throwing her arms around him.

"I'm sorry." It took all her effort to even find those words. She found Alistair was rubbing her back gently.

"I'm sorry too." He whispered, for a long moment, they stood there silently in each other's arms.

Wallace eventually found herself laughing a little through her tears, "Brosca would think us both the fool, wouldn't she?"

She felt more than heard him laugh, "If she'd had a say, this would never have taken so long."

Wallace pulled away from him gently, looking him in the eye, "As unbelievably relieved as I am to know that I'm not the only one who feels this way, and as much as I'll hate myself for saying this, this still can't exactly happen, Alistair. You're still the king of Ferelden, and whatever my credentials, I'm still some random commoner from Gwaren. I can't be seen hanging around the king-"

Alistair stopped her by taking her face in his hands, "What could anyone possibly say to one of my oldest friends coming around to offer me counsel? Okay, so maybe the details are a little unpolished, but leave that to me. Trust me to figure it out, for once, and say you won't leave me again?"

It was a roller coaster of emotions for Wallace. Be with the King of Ferelden in secret? It was a preposterous idea. People would get suspicious, they would know. She would be branded some social climber, taking advantage of him. But what if she wasn't? If they never knew, and she could stay with Alistair, free from their scrutiny besides as an advisor to the king? She could be with him. She could be with Alistair, after all this time. All she ever wanted, at her fingertips.

"I'll stay with you."

His grin felt like it set her on fire, and with no further words needed, they met in a kiss nine years in the making. They could figure out the rest of everything else later.

[hueynomure]

Dragon’s Blood

The Prince checked his sword and bow again, but did it covertly, to keep his men’s confidence. They were twenty, five self-proclaimed dragon-hunters and fifteen of his best warriors. Twenty-one men, and as many fine horses, braving the Burned Wastelands.

The King had been somber but proud when the Prince had told him of his chosen quest. The King had taught him that Princes ought to prove their mettle and their valor, and the young Prince had decided to rescue the Prisoner from the Dragon.

The Prisoner was said to be of astonishing beauty, and when the Dragon had laid eyes on her had recognized her as the most precious treasure of the world. Its hoard forgotten, the Dragon had turned that kingdom into the Burned Wastelands, sparing only the border villages that submitted to the Dragon and sent food for the Prisoner.

The Prince kept still like stone when he saw two titanic wings unfurl in the distance.

* * *

The Prince at last opened his hand, letting his sword rest in the Dragon’s stilled heart. The dragon-hunters, that had only lost one of their numbers, were laying their flensing equipment on the ground and harvesting the Dragon’s blood in twisted inscribed receptacles. The Prince let his warriors, of which only six were still standing, tend to the wounded and bury the dead, and strode to the tower’s entrance. Tired as he was, the Prince ended up running up the stairs. He slammed open the door at the end of the steps, and finally saw her.

The Prisoner’s beauty was stunning, as they said. Her hair flowed in regal auburn locks; her skin alabaster, her visage harmonious beyond an artist’s dream. She looked young, almost as young as the Prince himself. This troubled the Prince’s heart, as the story about the Dragon’s rampage was at least ten years old. Had the vile Dragon kidnapped a mere child?

The Prince’s doubts melted when the Prisoner turned her face to regard him. Her emerald eyes were still beautiful beyond belief, even with the signs of tears still in them; those gorgeous eyes met the Prince’s gaze, and his heart was hers.

* * *

Years later the Prince, now well in his adulthood, climbed another set of steps. The Prisoner – now a Lady – refused to sleep but on the top bedchamber of a tower, and the Prince could refuse nothing to her. He had gone to spoke to the King about it. The King had reminded him that there were many Princesses from other kingdoms that would happily marry a gallant man like him, but the Prince had refused. The King then reminded the Prince that whatever his Lady thought she was, he was the Prince, heir to a great kingdom, and his desires would someday be the law, and the Prince left him. He would only marry her, and would only do so with her joyous consent. This was not the first time the King his father had talked like that.

So the Prince opened the door at the end of the stairs, slowly not to disturb his Lady. She was sitting on the bed, her curves a beatific vision in silk. Her eyes were buried in a book, as she was an avid reader. The Prince took a moment to appreciate the beauty of his Lady’s blissful focus, before speaking up.

“Good morning, my sweet Lady.”

“Good morning, sweet Prince,” she replied, raising her head to meet his gaze with the sad longing she always wore in his presence. Silent as he could be, he had never managed to catch her by surprise. “Good morning, and good Name Day. I wish you a very merry day.”

“There’s no use wishing, my Lady,” the Prince replied. “Not when you have the means to make it so very merry with the smallest effort.”

“What do you mean?” The fond smile on her lips became hesitant.

“The only gift I want of you is what you always denied me, my dearest,” the Prince explained, “a simple answer. Why won’t you marry me?”

His Lady hung his head, her smile bitter. “When I say I cannot, my hopeful Prince, I am not lying.”

“Then tell me something that helps me understand.” The Prince walked to the high gold-framed mirror in the room, a mirror he had caught her staring at like it could share precious secrets. “Tell me a story that can mirror the truth.”

The Lady closed her book, but looked in the Prince’s reflected eyes with a glimmer of hope. “Once upon a time, there was a woman. The woman worn out her eyes looking at all the many valiant, gentle and handsome princes of this world, but only did that from afar. She couldn’t approach any of them, because it took only a quick gaze for them to hate her.”

The Prince gasped in disbelief. “How could someone hate you?”

“I… The woman looked very differently back then,” she replied sadly. “She worn out her eyes and her heart longing for those gilded princes. Until… until a man came.”

The Prince saw his Lady’s reflection holding the book on her thighs so hard her knuckles became white as a ghost, her nails sinking in the volume’s hard cover, and for a moment the Prince saw in her perfect eyes a bestial fury. But it was just a moment.

“The man promised he could make her beautiful, so beautiful every prince would fall in love with her as soon as...” She raised a hand to cover her mouth, anguished dread in her gorgeous visage, as she regarded the Prince’s reflection. “As soon as they met her gaze.”

Those words made the Prince take a pause, but he couldn’t let his Lady simmer in such pain. With few long strides he was at her side, holding her hands in his. “But my love goes beyond your looks, my precious Lady. I love your passion for books, the look in your eyes when you walk in the garden. I love your every gesture, your every mood. That wouldn’t change, regardless of how beautiful or ugly your visage might be.”

“Those are easy words when you have to regard beauty, and not death’s fiery glare,” his Lady commented, but the Prince felt her clinging to him not just with her fingers. “The woman accepted, blinded by hope, forgetting to ask about the price of such a boon.”

“It was the Dragon, wasn’t it? But it’s dead, my love, and I’ll slay any creature who dares come between us.”

His Lady cringed at those words, but when she tried to reply, only a chocked sound came out. “I… I can’t. I can’t tell my… the woman’s story,” she croaked, her hands to her straining throat.

The Prince frowned. “The curse went well beyond that Dragon, did it?”

His Lady nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

“You fear for me?”

His Lady nodded again.

“You should not, my sweet Lady,” the Prince reassured her, “Because I’ll live through any curse to stay with you.”

The Prince caught her cheeks between his hands and kissed her before she could react, and felt his heart burn and swell like a bonfire. The Lady stared in his eyes in disbelief and horror for a moment, then returned the kiss with desperate passion. They kissed forever, time incinerated by the inebriating pleasure. The Prince felt himself grow beyond the boy the King still saw in him.

He grew until he felt the wall behind him crumble outwards. He slipped backwards in the gaping hole, but his new wings caught him before he could fall to the courtyard below. He had never felt better. He felt immense, powerful, glorious, more regal than the King his father could dream to be. He couldn’t understand why his Lady was crying, kneeling and hiding her face behind her hands. She was saying something, but he couldn’t hear her over the screams raising from below.

“Dragon! Dragon!”

* * *

* * *

Inspired by Sangue di Drago by Rancore. here's the link to the original song and my attempt at translating the lyrics.

[capmerthur]

THE ONCE AND FUTURE FIC

Yet another resurrection fic (sorry?). ARTHUR RETURNS IN CHAPTER 2. Lots of feeeeels, and overdue conversations (at last!) between our precious King and Warlock. Title might change as this goes along, but this has always been the work title in my head since I started thinking about writing it, so… Starts right when 5.13 ends. WARNING FOR SUICIDAL THOUGHTS IN CHAPTER ONE.

Excerpt PART IV:

It's real! Of course it's real. If Arthur doesn't know- It's real! Arthur is truly back! And that's...

But *Arthur doesn't know*. And so *Merlin will have to tell*. It's too cruel. Merlin shouldn't be the one to break Arthur's heart.

(PREVIOUS CHAPTERS UNDER CHAPTER IV)

@clone-number-1

IV. (MERLIN POV)

Arthur squeezes his shoulders one last time and then lets go, about to stand.

"Now, let's go home. We have a feast to prepare in your honor."

Merlin cannot tell if his heart has just completely healed or totally disintegrated. Let's go home?

It's real! Of course it's real. If Arthur doesn't know- It's real! Arthur is truly back! And that's...

But *Arthur doesn't know*. And so *Merlin will have to tell*.

Merlin blanches. He feels guilty, anew. Because he has hoped and prayed and begged for Arthur to return; with everything he had. He has been selfish, hasn't he? And he has been blind; stupidly blind - again. All those years he has prepared for taking care of a still bleeeding wound, for clothes, for food, for any necessities; but it has never crossed his mind that Arthur wouldn't know... and he is not prepared for Arthur's emotional pain; and even less for causing it. Some small part of Merlin can't help but wish now that Arthur had stayed in the lake after all, had never awoken. It's too cruel. Merlin shouldn't be the one to break Arthur's heart.

Arthur is reading his panick wrong, of course:

"Don't worry- No one else has to know about your magic if you don't want to. But you DID end the war, Merlin; you did what I couldn't do - Morgana... All Camelot should know what they owe y-"

And Merlin can't bear Arthur's concern on his behalf any longer; making it last feels like a betrayal. And no matter how much Merlin doesn't want Arthur to get hurt, ever, he cannot and will not lie - not about this. Conjuring ghosts wouldn't be real and would only make it worse in the end anyway. The only option is a clear cut, right away.

"It's not- (deep breath) I'm so sorry, Arthur. We cannot go home. You were gone. For such a long time. For such a long, long time, Arthur. I'm so, so, sorry."

And Merlin watches, feeling his eyes filling up once more, as Arthur's eyebrows furrow in incomprehension; as Arthur blinks, taken aback as realization hits; as Arthur's eyes turn desperate and pleading, shaking his head in denial-

"No. I remember just-" His voice falters as he probably notices the house behind them - the house that definitely hadn't been there before - and who knows what more (trucks on the road farther away? joggers in strange clothes passing by?) "And you look exactly-"

And Merlin has nothing to say, nothing to offer, to soothe the hopelessly growing pain ready to crush his King, hollow him out - nothing but the cruel testimony of his once more, always, useless tears; and Arthur knows, indeed.

It comes out as a whisper, but it sounds as if Arthur's spirit has gone with it, vacillating.

"They're all-"

And the only thing Merlin can say still is: "I'm so sorry" - again.

"My people? My Knights? My- Guinevere..."

And it hurts. Oh, it hurts; to have to see Arthur's broken heart on his face, to hear its crack as his voice breaks on his Queen's name and his head turns away.

"I'm so sorry."

A litany; a chant; a prayer. Over, and over, and over. Pointless, worthless, useless, anyway; as his King cries silent tears, all the more shattering by their quietude...

Then Arthur is up and pacing, a fierce but dark spark in his eyes as his hands turns into fists - anger, rage; of course.

"Why did you bring me back then? How could you bring me back if-?"

And Merlin would gladly take a blow; if it could help Arthur to feel better, somehow. But nothing comes. It's Arthur. Of course nothing comes.

Arthur briefly closes his eyes, inhaling sharply. And when he opens them again, Arthur's anger hasn't faded; but isn't directed towards Merlin anymore.

"But then; you would have brought me back right away, wouldn't you have - if it had been in your power..."

And Merlin feels crushed, again; by how he *always* fails Arthur, indeed.

"I'm so sorry..."

.

AN: I realize I do have a thing for Merlin crying - blame it on Colin's A+ crying performances - so of course it has to appear somewhere... Merlin will not weep though for much longer, if it can reassure you...

.

(PREVIOUS CHAPTERS)

(Warning for this chapter: suicidal thoughts)

I. (MERLIN POV)

Merlin holds Mordred’s sword in his right hand, appraising it. He still can’t believe he has found it; still can’t believe it’s actually in his hands.

Over sixty years now - nothing; yet far too long - Merlin has been waiting for this moment. Since he has begged Freya, and threathened (and apologised - he couldn’t blame Freya for not listening; he wouldn’t have either, if their roles had been reversed), and begged again - in vain, for Excalibur. Since he has finally understood that he was a fool to hold onto hope for something that couldn’t, wouldn’t come to pass. Arthur was *never* coming back: Merlin had simply witnessed enough - he had witnessed too much; and too many times; and definitely one time too much one time too many - to ignore it any longer.

/

It was not that Merlin had grown too tired of waiting - too tired of the ache, the longing, the loneliness… For Arthur? Merlin would *always* wait; however long it might take.

It was not that Merlin had come to believe mankind didn’t deserve Arthur to rise again to start with - even though it *was* an easy conclusion, when it was at its worst, when it turned its anger against itself - too many horrors, atrocities, bloodshed. But mankind could be beautiful, when loving, in any form; and marvelous, too, when it was at its best; when it turned its anger towards its limits: the medical progress over the ages would have had Gaius exhilarated, and proud; and what about its general neverending thirst for discovery, for explorations, for quests? - of course Arthur would come back: if only he could.

It was just that Merlin had finally understood that he had been played - not even because Albion (the name has since long fallen out of use and its people had been scattered through the globe, so it might mean nowadays something else than it had used to to start with) had got united without Arthur (and even if it still only meant Great Britain, well, it might after all need to be united again); but simply because the list of unending reasons why Arthur should have come back to save the day and yet hadn’t (to mention only the very top of the list: half of humanity wiped out in a finger snap by the Black Death? the whole world collapsing in chaos, bend on destroying itself - World War?) had turned out suspiciously too long, and finally impossibly too long, as mankind had truly reached the lowest point not only ever but even possible without Arthur rising yet again (organised experiments and torture on toddlers, honestly?).

So.

Arthur wasn’t ever coming back from the dead, simply because no one ever came back from the dead (except as a shade - and that would be even worse, wouldn’t it? - or at a cost too great to burden anyway). It had been easy to believe in the prophecy; simply because it had been what Merlin had wanted. A distant promise of Arthur returning was still way better than no Arthur at all, and so Merlin had willingly taken the bait. But the fake prophecy had obviously been made up; as revenge, or entertainment - or both; and Merlin had felt stupid for not having realized this ages ago - The Sidhe were proud indeed; and Merlin had thwarted them. (It had been easy to forget it at first - to tell himself that they hadn’t known Arthur was THE Arthur at the time, whatever…) Merlin wasn’t sure about what Kilgharrah might have exactly known or not (On the one hand, Kilgharrah had forged Excalibur, who had always truly helped them. And Merlin had been warned by the Great Dragon, right from the start, and repeatedly; so wouldn’t it all have worked out just fine if he had listened. On the other hand, if he had listened? Wouldn’t he have been a monster, punishing people for crimes they had not yet committed? So maybe giving him the truth had in fact been the sure way to have him not acting on it. After all, Kilgharrah had hated the Pendragons - at least Uther - enough to have tried to wipe out Camelot. And he hadn’t been exactly pleased either to discover Merlin was a Dragonlord, even if he had seemed to soften when he had realized that Merlin would not control him as a puppet. And last but not least, Kilgharrah hadn’t taken care of Aithusa as Merlin had thought he would; and that’s how Aithusa had ended up with Morgana - and had forged the sword that had killed Arthur), but it didn’t change anything anyway…

Well, you bet Merlin hadn’t been willing to indulge them any longer. Not that anger was what was driving Merlin, of course. There was simply *no point* anymore in waiting. Nor in living, to be honest - especially as it might be what kept him from actually finding Arthur again somehow; next life, paradise, wherever and however and whenever? Merlin was no religious man, but even he had no answer about what happened after death after all. Maybe it was worth a shot? It was a very, very thin chance indeed; but it was still more of a chance than just staying here waiting for *nothing*… So. Merlin had begged Freya for Excalibur. But as she had kept absent, it had dawned on him at some point that Excalibur wasn’t the only blade he could use… Merlin had searched for that other mighty weapon through his magic for years; then had sent his creature to retrieve it when he had successfully localized it.

/

And here, now, finally, is Mordred’s sword.

And Merlin feels no dread, no fear, while holding it. If anything, he feels calm - calmer than he has ever been, probably. And that’s how Merlin knows that his decision is indeed right: even his magic agrees.

He should do it in the lake though. Magical artifacts just shouldn’t linger around in the open, huh…

Yes.

Let Mordred’s blade rest along Excalibur.

And let Merlin rest along Arthur.

Freya will make sure they all lay undisturbed.

Merlin blindly pulls at the cord around his neck, taking it out from under his tunic and sliding his left hand along it until it closes around Arthur’s mother sigil (AN) and Camelot’s ruler’s ring (Gwen had it brought to him, so he could give it back to its true owner on his return: Camelot in the meantime was to be ruled by a Concil of Knights and a Guardian, until Arthur would come back to sit on his kept empty throne and his kept empty seat at the Round Table).

Merlin closes his eyes; makes a silent promise.

I’m coming, Arthur.

He takes a first step into the lake.

.

Backstory: +1500 years in short - because it hurts and I just don’t have the heart to fully write the prologue I had intended to write:

Merlin has never left the lake. He kept waiting. He couldn’t, wouldn’t leave, (nor SLEEP even for that matter by the way) no matter for how short - imagine if Arthur came back just when he was NOT there, huh. And of course he wouldn’t trust his magic to warn him somehow - it had failed Arthur when he needed it the most after all. So no. Merlin has never left the lake. But Gaius has mentioned to him (Merlin got visitors, in the beginning (and his mother came to live with him until she died); before he cut himself off the world) how maybe the time he was given without Arthur was to LEARN more about magic; so that he would be prepared when Arthur came back to face whatever ordeal they were supposed to face. Because even if Merlin is hyper *aware* - he feels *everything*, through his magic - practice is necessary too.  So Merlin mastered the art of molding sand/clay and animating it with his magic (basically, he walks the Earth as Old Merlin - because people tends to let old grumpy men on their own - whenever he needs anything physically). He can speak, hear, see, learn, through him, following the world as it expands (America, Australia, etc etc, because even if he was aware they existed, he couldn’t physically *go* there before they were ‘found’). And he can touch, and carry (for example you bet he brought back something red for Arthur to wear every time - Merlin sort of owns a ‘male red mode through the ages’ museum by now - and he hates it, of course).  The first time Merlin has truly thought Arthur *would* come back has been The Great Plague. The second time has been WWI. The last drop has been the Nazis and Unit 731 experimentations.  So Merlin sent its creature to fetch Mordred’s sword after having localized it though his magic - and that’s what Old Merlin is bringing back to him when this all starts (aka that shot at the end of 5.13)…

(AN: Just so you know, Merlin’s magically pierced in the thickness of Ygraine’s sigil to pass a cord - he  wouldn ’t make a hole in the front design of course!)

(Also… A resurrection fic!? What am I getting myself into!? I’m still a newbie around here so I definitely haven’t read enough Merlin fics to ever claim making something original (so by the way, please feel free to let me know your all time favourites resurrection fics! So far I’ve read The Change Trilogy and Like the cycle of the year we begin again (and they’re both gorgeous reads so run and read them if you haven’t yet!) but I haven’t seen (yet?) my take, both on the waiting and on the getting along after Arthur’s return, in the fics I’ve read so far, so I thought I might as well write this down ?)

.

II. (ALTERNATE POV)

Arthur regains consciousness under water.

He’s cold; so cold he’s shaking - helpless, steady spasms he just can’t put an end to (being past half dead apparently has repercussions?). But it’s bright, up over him, and he instinctivally pushes himself up towards the light; towards the air.

The moment he breaks the water, Arthur registers that he’s not only alive but that he feels *just right*. No pain in his side, no weakness, no dizzinesss, no strain: nothing wrong at all - except from the convulsions from the cold, but you bet he’s not going to complain, all considered. The sun is veiled by clouds, but feels nonetheless like a welcomed warmth on his face, and Arthur breathes deep, bringing his arms up and turning his palms towards the warmth too as the tremors start to subdue; he’s alive!; and well! He doesn’t need to pat his absent wound in wonder, nor to look at the water, transparent clear instead of bloodened red, to know that what he feels is true.

Merlin’s done it.

He *has* saved his life.

Again.

It’s both unexpected (Arthur had been so sure he had taken his last breath, when all had finally faded to black, no matter how much he had been trying to stay with him, as Merlin had pleaded; to hold onto Merlin, to his voice, to the way he was holding him) - and yet somehow expected. Magical waters and a sorcerer who knows how to work its power would do wonders, obviously. It has happened before after all, bringing his beloved Guinevere’s spirit back?

A sudden realization; and Arthur can’t help but laugh. And it feels so exhilarating - alive! alive! - the laugh turns into a howl; and Arthur relishes on it, throwing his head back. Honestly? How could he have ever been *so* blind - of course it had been Merlin then too by the water edge, disguised as an old woman!

/

Somewhere on his right, a buoying laugh erupts.

And Merlin knows that laugh. So hearing the exact right tone of that entirely unexpected laughter at once feels as if a vicious invisible hand is squeezing at his heart.

He had forgotten it; he realizes. But he would recognize that howling laugh amongst any other…

Merlin doesn’t dare to *believe*. Cruel hope nonetheless blooms unbidden in his heart, and his eyes can’t help but zero in on the source of that sound.

And it is exactly as it should be; exactly as it has used to be…

There *is* ARTHUR; standing in the lake, water reaching his hips, chainmail glistening, head thrown back as he laughs. (Has anyone ever looked more simply breathtakingly majestic no matter what they did and even without trying?) Merlin can only see his back, but you bet he would recognize the shape of that back amongst any other too.

Merlin’s breath is knocked out of him; and Mordred’s sword falls from his hand.

Merlin knows what he hears and sees *cannot* be true. He has seen the world in a much, MUCH more desperate state without Arthur coming back then. There is absolutely no reason for Arthur to come back right now. So. He is being granted a vision; that’s all. But of course Merlin wouldn’t, couldn’t, try to take his own life anymore, not after having had even just a glimpse… Besides, he has just handed over the last sword that could end him anyway. Merlin has to acknowledge The Sidhe’s thinking; they know exactly well how to play him. But damn, they are vicious.

But no matter the abysmal pain from such a low blow, Merlin still considers this to be a gift, and is determined to draw it out for as long as he will be allowed to. Those few seconds might sustain him for another fifteen centuries to come, and maybe more…

/

Arthur quiets down after a while. Thinking about his savior: where is he?

Arthur scans his surroundings; and the warmth he feels when he finally spots Merlin definitely eclipses the sun.

/

The laughing stops, and Arthur turns, eyes searching; and a bright smile appears on Arthur’s face the moment they find him.

“Merlin!”

Merlin’s knees give out. His name through Arthur’s lips has sounded *exactly* right - righter than in any memory Merlin has relied on to live on hanging onto. And it hurts. The shame, and guilt - to realize he had forgotten *this* too? It shouldn’t have been possible - to have something so dear going misformed; a pale, withered, incomplete, erroneous copy, so far from the original that its truth has disintegrated? Oh yes, it hurts.

And Merlin’s fingers dig; hard, deep into the sand. He cannot reach out. He longs for; he *aches* to - both physically and emotionnally. But he cannot. As long as it’s only his eyes and ears that are deceived, then he can pretend it is true…

Merlin starts to cry. He can’t help it; he cries - as he hasn’t cried since, well, all those years ago: silent tears endlessly streaming down his face, unabached, treacherous; and Merlin hates them - hates the way they blur his vision when he has to - HAS TO - *see*. He is powerless to stop them though.

It is *blinding*.

Merlin has tried, so hard, to keep remembering, to NOT forget. But his memories, even sustained with his magic, have so obviously failed him; haven’t done Arthur any justice at all. Merlin has forgotten so, SO much; and being proven just how much he has actually forgotten slices through him like a knife. The exact darker shade of Arthur’s blond hair when wet. The exact way Arthur stands and moves. The exact sharpness of Arthur’s features - his nose, his cheeckbones, his jawline. The exact shape of that smile - that particular, undeniably fond smile following his name Merlin has used to live for and from. Guilt slashes through him again. How could he have *forgotten* the exact shape of *that* smile; the most precious to him amongst the myriad of each and every of Arthur’s smiles?

/

But then Merlin collapses, instead of cheering with him - he has thought him gone for good? And Arthur suddenly feels like there is still after all a gaping aching wound on his body; but this one deep in his chest, and of his own making. He owes Merlin *everything*, doesn’t he? Yet he has hurt him - and so very severely. Despite it, though, Merlin obviously still cares for him; and so very much… His own behaviour puts Arthur to shame. So. Arthur hadn’t had the time nor the strength to plainly apologize before. But he has now; and he won’t run away from the words that he needs to say - and even more important, that Merlin needs to hear…

/

Arthur is now rushing through the water towards him - so fierce!, so strong!; alive and well!? His smile is gone though; replaced by worry - because of Merlin’s tears, no doubt: yet another reason to hate them then…

And then Arthur is plopping down in front of him, out of breath; and Merlin gets proof again of just how much he had forgotten - the exact colours and depths of Arthur’s eyes! There is now a fragile smile back on Arthur’s face - a soothing smile, meant only for Merlin’s sake; and it’s going to break Merlin’s heart, no doubt.

.

III. (MERLIN POV)

“I’m fine, Merlin. I’m fine.”

And not only the voice is perfect, but the language is the one Merlin hasn’t heard for over a millenium…

“Arthur?” is all Merlin can let out - no more than a somewhat hiccuped whisper as he still has no breath, no voice, to start with; but an obvious plea coming from the depths of his soul. A world of wonder, and longing, and ache, and disbelief, and hope - because no matter what, Merlin can’t help but want; can’t help but hope - in those two syllabs that own his heart. Magic *does* exist, after all; and Merlin would give it all - all the magic he possesses, all his pain, all his hopes, everything - for this vision to turn real.

Arthur’s already fragile smile falters: “Don’t you remember, Merlin. No man is worth your tears.” The reproach is nothing but badly fake though, and Arthur’s voice somehow breaks as it ends: “Especially not me.”

And then suddenly - and so quickly Merlin doesn’t register any of it before it has actually happened, and so it is too late for him to move backwards to prevent it from happening - Arthur brings his hands on Merlin’s face, gloved fingers brushing his tears away under his eyes - and Merlin can *feel* them!?

Merlin is lost; lost in what he sees, lost in what he hears, and lost in what he feels. Can this be true? Can it truly be true?

But then Arthur starts speaking again - rushed out words leaving Merlin stunned.

“I apologize, Merlin. The way I reacted- (sigh) I deserve all the names you’ve ever called me and more. I’m thick, and dumb, and *such* an idiot, and a complete dollophead, and a cabbage head, and a prat, and a royal *ass*, and I still don’t know what a clotpole exactly is but I’m certain I am the definition for one indeed too. I may have seen anyone with magic turning against me; but I should never have doubted *you*, Merlin.”

Merlin just cannot believe what he’s hearing. It’s everything he has ever wanted to hear; everything he has ever hoped to hear - so how can it be real?

“But more than anything, I think, I’m sorry because I should have known, Merlin. I called you a liar; looked at you like you had betrayed me. But you’ve told it. You actually shouted it for everyone to hear; and I believe you nearly told it to me, privately, at least once, and presumably more… But I just didn’t want to hear it, did I? So I’m sorry I was such a coward; a *coward*, Merlin. And I’m so sorry, and so ashamed - and honestly I really can’t blame you for not trusting me to understand: because you were right; and it guts me, Merlin.”

Merlin shakes his head, about to interject - real or not just cannot matter anymore; not when Arthur’s gaze is boring into his very core, pleading and honest and full of a guilt Merlin just can’t bear to witness: “Arthur-”

Arthur silences him though, cutting him off by shaking him once by the shoulders: “But what counts is that I know, now, Merlin. Your magic is not only part of who you are; it also makes you who you are. And I will trust it; because I trust *you*. You must believe- No, let me rephrase this before you obey me again - because you *always* obey me, don’t you Merlin; even when whatever I say in anger or despair isn’t intended nor meant to be an order; and I’ve done it so often, haven’t I… ‘Do not put me into that position again’? 'Tell me it’s gone’? (AN) So. Can you believe me; Merlin? It’s not an order; I definitely do not deserve to give you any order at all to start with anyway. And you don’t even have to forgive me; you shouldn’t forgive me. But please, at least, can you b-”

“Of course I believe you. And there is nothing to forgive, Arthur. Nothing.” Merlin half shouts, ancient words flowing instinctively, head skaking 'no’ for emphasis, bringing his hands up to Arthur’s wrists and pushing downwards, keeping Arthur’s hands in place on his shoulders. If this is a waking dream then Merlin never wants to leave it. This is solid enough, real enough, for the rest of his maybe neverending life. “You’re here. You’re well. That’s all that matters, Arthur; I swear that’s all that has ever mattered to me.”

Arthur holds his gaze for a long, long time; as if waiting for Merlin’s clear eyes to betray his words. And when he finally seems confident enough that they are indeed genuine, he whispers, but it sounds like a pledge: “And you’re here, Merlin, and you’re *you*; and I swear that’s all that will matter to me from now on.”

.

AN: Tiny quote from my Body Swap fic; sorry, I just couldn’t NOT put it there, it just FITS…

(Also, just imagine they speak in old brittonic… but please don’t expect me to write it? sorry?)

.

[ren-c-leyn]

One Day....

Well, @thependragonwritersguild , I looked at your unconventional challenge, and honestly don’t have a clue what prompts you all wanted to fit together; not because none of the fit together, but because so many of them fit together perfectly in my (possibly strange) mind. So, instead of guessing, I combined these prompts ( 4735, 4765,  4766, 4820, 4842)  into this no-so-short short story.

 This is a heavy angst piece as it is my interpretation of what the life of an immortal would be like. It talks about deaths, about battles, about alcohol, grief, and includes a self-inflicted wound, among other things. Tread lightly.

  I’m not sure which was worse. The lies she told before, or the truth that followed. If I had known what secrets had been hidden, I never would have dug for them. I never would have searched for the history of the hero that had been by my side since the beginning of my journey. I didn’t know, though. I couldn’t have dreamed of knowing the weight of the burden on her shoulders. So, I dug, and I confronted her at the gates of the abandoned fortress she called home.

 The melancholy etched in the dark brown curves and lines of her face did nothing the stem the words. One after another, I spat out all of the lies I had caught her in. No one in Snow Well had heard her name, she didn’t buy her unicorn mount from the exotic animal trader, we didn’t get the quest to save the king’s daughter, which meant he saw her of his own volition that stormy night; and no one at the guild would answer my questions as to who she really was or from whence she came.

 At the end of my ranting and raving, my evidences and questions, a soft sigh slipped from her lips. She tossed her dark curls back and forth before waving me forward, deeper into the depths of her home. When I didn’t move, she turned her back on me and delved further in herself. I listened to her light footsteps echo on the dull, grey cobblestones for a moment before chasing after. I couldn’t let her slip away before she answered for all of the lies she had told me, her partner, her friend....

 Through the elaborate maze of rooms and halls she led me until we stood inside a room I didn’t recognize. There were books everywhere, each with a sketch of a person on the cover. Elves, dwarves, humans, halflings, nympths, faries, centaurs, even a dragon. All of the faces were so detailed and realistic, I felt as though they were actually watching me pass them by.

 She slumped down into one of the plush chairs in front of a cold, silent hearth, waving me into the other one. I took my seat and stared right into those dark eyes. It was still hard to look into them for too long. Her gaze was just as piercing as it was when she saved me from certain death years before.

 “Do you know where we are right now, Jack?”  “In your fortress?”  “In my memories,” she replied eyes sweeping over the books. “Those were all people I knew, people I fought with, people I fought for, people I loved and treasured. All of them died long before you were born....”

 I stared at her, processing the madness she was speaking. Before I was born? She looked younger than I was... just as young as she had been that day. I shook my head. A crafty move, trying to change the subject and confuse me, but I would not be distracted so easily.

 “Who are you, Summer? Who are you really?”

 “I don’t know. Very few people remember my name. And I’m not one of them. I never thought to write down my own name, to commit my history to pages. Maybe I knew that I didn’t want to remember before I was even old enough to realize that immortality was a curse, not a blessing.”

 I snorted at the idea, sure she was lying through her teeth.

 “Immortality is impossible, a mere fable.”

 She answered by drawing her blade. I did not so much as have time to blink before her blade was in her heart. A scream had escaped my throat as I rushed over to her. Her hand stopped me, pushing me back toward my chair. I was silenced by my own horror as she twisted the blade around in a circle, forcing the blood up her throat and out her lips, before she ripped it free of her body. Dark crimson seeped through her pale tunic, creating and ever growing red circle.

 For a long time, the only things that broke the silence was the echoes of my erratic breathing, the dripping sword, and her own slow breaths. I kept expecting her eyes to glaze over, her body to slump, her breathing to stop, but it never happened. Instead, she wiped her blade clean and sheathed it before dabbing at the hole in her chest with the same cloth. Less than five minutes after the wound had been inflicted, it was gone. Only the blood stains remained as proof she had ever been wounded.

 “Immortality should be impossible, Jack, but it isn’t. Now, if you will allow me, I will tell you the truth the best my cloudy memory can recall.”

 I only nodded, unable to speak.

 “I was born mortal, like anyone else, in Snow Well. It wasn’t a town back then, just a farm. I don’t remember much about it, really. I can’t even call my parent’s faces to mind. I do recall being bored of it, though. I didn’t want to tend animals, I wanted to be an adventurer. So, I left home and did my best. I would have died if some real adventurers didn’t save me, though. They were the founders of the guild, and the ones that trained me. Only, my sparing partner and I didn’t see eye to eye. We’d goad and torment each other every chance we got, until we were sent out on quests together. The thrill and the danger eventually got us to bond.

 One day, though, he was hurt so I set out to find herbs for him. I stumbled into an old, sacred place. I recall there being a tree with white leaves and black flowers, but nothing else really sticks out in my mind. The herbs I needed were growing there, so I picked them. The guardian of the place appeared and scolded me. I don’t know why I did it. I regretted it before, during, and after it all happened, but laughed and blew him off. Told him he was full of hot air and went to leave, but not before the roots of the tree grabbed me.

 ‘Perhaps time will tech you to respect my sorrows and the burden I carry. Return in five hundred years with a plant to replace the one you have stolen from this sanctuary, and then I will break your curse. Until then, you will walk this world alone.’”

 She sighed, dabbing some of the congealing blood off of her tunic. A bitter smile crossed her face.

 “I can’t quite remember what happened after that, but I remember my partner being ecstatic for me. Said I’d never have to be scared again. I thought he was right at the time. Death could no longer threaten me, no matter what kind of quest I was on. That became the problem, though. I had married my partner and watched him age. I had married my partner and watched him age. When we had the twins, the horror of my curse finally set in. They wouldn’t live five hundred years, my husband wouldn’t live five hundred years.

 One by one, the other guild members died, until there were only four of us from the original founders left, and two of them were elves. Then, the horrid day came when old age claimed my lover. I put him in the ground, an old man, while I still looked as young as I had been when we were wed. My children had families of their own, and the days showed on their faces. Gods, when I buried my children I didn’t know where to turn. Then my grandchildren, and then their children. It never stopped. One generation was born, and another stepped into their graves.”

There was a pause before she took a deep breath, nodding to herself as she lowered the cloth onto her lap.

 “Five-hundred years of suffering passed by even slower than it should have. I dug up an herb plant from my garden and searched for the guardian, hoping to put an end to my suffering. It took me another fifty long years to find him again, and then I was informed that because I came too late, I would have to wait another ten-thousand years.”

 She gripped the little rag in her hands so tight I thought it was going to tear. She wrung it back and forth as she continued talking.

 “Ten-thousand more because I had missed the day that stars aligned and he would have been strong enough to undo what had been done.... I laughed and wept, throwing the plant at his feet and stumbled back to my cottage. I turned to the bottle to numb the pain. It did nothing to ease the suffering, though. One of the elves came after a while, wearing his own age on his face. I don’t remember exactly what he said to me, but he made me realize that I could still do something for this world. I could make this world so much brighter. And so much darker. I decided to make it brighter for the heirs of my bloodline, to give my descendants’ children a good place to live.”

 “You do a good job of that, Summer.”

 “Do I? I haven’t really been sure of that for a long time. So many dangers left for them to face. No matter how many bandits and monsters I cut down, there’s always more... always so many more. I’ve been at this so long, I’m not even sure I’m human anymore. I feel like a ball of pain and an old war machine.”

 “Pain is the most human thing there is.”

 “Is that so? Well then,” she smiled, “I guess I’m the most human of anyone in the entire world.”

 With that, she drug herself out of the chair and showed me all of the books she had written about all of the people she had known. She introduced me to her family, to her comrades, to the idiots she had saved before me, and even showed me the one she was working on for me when I died. I wished I hadn’t looked, but I did. The words inside tore me apart. It was a complex mix of our history, my personality, every little quirk and habit she had noticed, and things I was prone to blurt out on a whim. It talked about my skills, my favorite things, even the silly little songs I came up with at random. So much beauty and sorrow was already in those pages, and I wasn’t even dead yet....

 I left that night with heavy footsteps and a heavier heart. I wished I could tell her it would be okay, that I wasn’t going to leave her, but the wall of books spoke the truth. I would die one day, and in a few hundred years, she’d be the only person left to remember the things I did and the person that I was. One day, she’d probably show my story to some other unlucky soul that realized there was more to her that what met the eye. One day....

[lunaschild2016]

I’ll Be Your Dungeon Master

Ok! So this is....a pretty odd one for me but it was fun writing it! I am showing my geek colors a bit in this one. Hope you enjoy.

Eric thought his girl was cheating on him. Boy, was he wrong.

@kenzieam  @pathybo  @jaihardy @every-jai @ericdauntless @beautifulramblingbrains @bookgirlthings @jojuarez26 @oddsnendsfanfics @offroadinjandals  @singingpeople @iammarylastar @irasancti @captstefanbrandt  @clublulu333 @fuckthatfeeling @tigpooh67 @ex-bookjunky  @jughead-wuz-here wuz-here@badassbaker@beanzjellly@beltz2016 @meganbee15@affabletimelady@scorpio2009@gylisaa @geekybeyondallreason@violetsonthelam @kyloswarstars@emmysrandomthoughts @kgurew @beltzboys2015-blog@slytherin-princess-25273 @whatwouldbuffydo666@jaiboomer11@holamor@wealwayskeepfighting   *****************************************************************************************

The air crackled with tension, causing the hairs on the arms of people in the area to stand on end. Anyone going to or from the corridor that held the apartment that was the source of such a charged atmosphere found ways to get to their destination without having to come too close to it. They didn’t want to hear what might be going on behind that scarred black door.

The occupants of the apartment were in various states. Disbelief, outright fear, and amusement (locked behind a strongly maintained expression of blankness). They all watched in silence as a standoff was being held but in complete silence.

Eric Coulter had just barged his way into the apartment his girlfriend was in, having followed her there on the suspicion that she was cheating on him. Nothing else could have explained why his girl had been eagerly waiting for him to go out on his weekly night patrol. Normally she would have been giving him rambling lectures, mixed in with cursed demands that he better be safe and make it back to her, then covered up by dark humor. All while she watched him dress from their bed after she spent at least an hour giving him the incentive to get home asap. It had become almost routine after six months of living together until two months ago that had stopped.

He had dismissed it at first as her being occupied with work and female issues. It never occurred to him it could be anything else. Until he had offhandedly asked her what she was going to do while he was out, more talking about what work she planned on doing. Her reply was what set off the chain events that led them to where they were now. A simple mention of plans with a friend that was never really expanded upon. It was a mystery and one he wouldn’t stand for.

He did the only thing he could do and had her followed for a month. Once it was established she was going to the same apartment and not leaving from it until just before dawn, when he was normally scheduled to return from his patrol, he had enough and put the rest of his plan in action. Having left their apartment as normal, he went to his office instead and waited an hour. Plenty of time for her to make it to her destination and to be caught red-handed.

He was right on both accounts. She was at the apartment and in the middle of the activities she attended every month but it was nothing like he expected.

The apartment belonged to someone she worked with in R&D. A former Erudite, like themselves, but at least six years older than them both. If Cameron weren’t wearing the black of Dauntless you would think he was still Erudite. He was the very definition of a geek in looks and personality.

When Eric found out whose apartment Zoe was disappearing to, he had at first been insulted that she had chosen someone like him to replace him in her bed. Someone that didn’t have a bit of power in Dauntless and was physically much weaker. Then he remembered that Cameron had been exactly the type of guy she had gone for in Erudite and she had even made comments regarding him and how well they work together.

Outwardly, Eric is nothing but cocky and self-assured. Inside he has always questioned why someone as brilliant as Zoe was giving him the fucking time of day. He had always questioned that even when they were just friends. He had planned to remind her of just why she choose him and now that plan was shot to hell.

“As you can see, Eric, I am not in the throes of coital bliss or any other such thing you shoved your way in here thinking you were going to catch me doing. So you can run along to your patrol.” Zoe said from the other side of the table while glaring at him.

“Nonsense,” Eric waved her words away and walked over to pull up a chair beside her. “You heard Cameron. I am welcome to join and the patrol was assigned to Four to train the new junior leader.”

Cameron sensed that he had avoided the death he thought for sure he was going to suffer when he saw Eric looming in his doorway. He gladly offered the leader a chance to join his group of friends. He didn’t expect the man to accept based on what they were doing.

Eric Coulter didn’t seem like the guy who would be caught dead playing Dungeons & Dragons.

“Ummm,” Cameron cleared his throat and watched as Eric spun the chair into place beside Zoe and giving her a cocky smirk. Zoe was shooting him glares and nervous looks to the rest of the group. “So we are starting a new campaign.”

“Perfect timing then,” Eric said with a wide grin showing perfect white teeth.

“Yes, it is a new campaign but we have a perfect party set up. We don’t need you coming in causing trouble.” Zoe hissed over at her boyfriend.

Eric mock-pouted at her and chuckled when she narrowed her eyes in return. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Promise.”

She didn’t believe him and for good reason but thinking about the reasons she had kept this new past time a secret from him had her feeling guilty. So she caved to his puppy dog blue eyes and the excitement she saw sparkling behind them as well.

“Fine.” She grumbled and then yanked out her bag of dice sets. “Pick your dice out from there and make a character.”

The others had been just as happy that the storm had been avoided. They almost eagerly waited while Eric made his character and talked back and forth with Cameron in hushed whispers when they went to the side of the room. Zoe let her head fall to the table and just knew this wasn’t going to be good. It didn’t take long for her to be proved right.

“After you return to the city, your group is called to come before the Lords of Waterdeep. You are to be given a new quest and will be joined by your new party member.” Cameron begins in his normal dungeon master tone, setting the mood and specifics. He looks around the table and continues a little nervously. “Malice Baenre, an emissary for the Drow.”

Zoe’s eyes snapped over to Eric who looked to be barely holding in his glee and the gleam of menace plain for her to read. He smirked at her and shrugged casually.

She looked at Cameron and wondered if he knew exactly what he had just brought down upon their little group.

A drow among sheep. This was not good, not good at all.

*************************************************************

Later the next day in the privacy of their own home, Zoe wearily crawled her way into bed trying to put the horrors of the last several hours out of her mind.

Eric was moving around, getting undressed, with a pleased smile that hadn’t left his face since they exited Cameron’s apartment. He slid into bed beside her and stretched out on his back putting his hands under his head and looked over at her, seeing her staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Well, that was fun.” He said with enthusiasm and a smile.

Zoe turned her head to the side but otherwise didn’t move. “Yes. So fun to watch you systematically corrupt, kill or disable the entire party while also somehow convincing them war is good and sending the entirety of the realms into chaos.” She said in a dry tone and then looked back at the ceiling. “So fun.” She said in a strained whisper.

“The next game should be interesting.” He says with a shrug.

This time Zoe pops up and glares at him. “What next game!” She shrieks. “There will be no next game. Cameron was in a corner muttering about failing and the others could barely speak after what their characters did. You broke them!”

Eric raised up and ran a finger down her cheek with a smile. “Guess it’s a good thing I volunteered to run the next game.”

Zoe jerked in surprise. “What?”

Eric shrugged casually. “I felt bad so I told Cameron I would run the game so he could play. We can meet here.”

“What about your patrols?” Zoe whispered as she looked at Eric with wide eyes.

“You had a point and I don’t need to be there personally all the time. Four took leadership for a reason and I need to start trusting him to do his job.”

“So you won’t be going out on any more overnight patrols?” The hope and tears shining in her eyes, the absolute relief in them let him know he made the right decision.

“Nope.” He replied while popping the p.

Zoe tackled him to the bed and kissed him hungrily. He happily returned it and then turned them so he was covering her. He pulled away and smirked down at her.

“Besides, think of all the interesting things having me as a dungeon master will bring.”

He chuckled but didn’t let her speak as her eyes widened in horror, he claimed her mouth and showed her what else he was a master of.

[eggoreviews]

My Top 10 Games of All Time

Just so I’m not talking about Smash Bros for once, here’s my top 10 games of all time that I will always think are perfect and never accept that they have flaws! Enjoy and I hope one of your faves is in here!

Probably spoilers for the games I mention under the cut

10. Kingdom Hearts II (2005)

For those of you unfamiliar with the series, Kingdom Hearts is a big weird crossover between Disney and Final Fantasy. I played this game as a kid and it was mostly exploring the Disney worlds and the really good combat system that kept me interested (I had literally no clue what was happening in the story and still kind of don’t) and I never really lost that sense of nostalgia that became attached to this game for me. And yeah I’m definitely getting Kingdom Hearts 3.

9. Life Is Strange (2015)

Life Is Strange is an emotional, cheesily written episodic series that I got into totally by accident about a teenage girl called Max who does some high school stuff and also has superpowers. What really made this game so memorable for me was the sheer emotion behind a lot of the plot and I will admit I cried several points during, which is what made the game stick with me. Plus this has one of the best soundtracks I’ve heard in a game so yeah. Go play it (and everything on this list).

8. Until Dawn (2015)

This game probably doesn’t belong here but I love it. Until Dawn follows 8 teenagers who go back to a snowy cabin where some shit went down the year before and u have to keep them all alive by making the right choices n stuff. The horror factor is good in this game, but it’s mostly the characters and how strangely attached I was to them by the end (I know they’re all tropes but I still love them). I’ve honestly lost count of the amount of times I’ve replayed this. Still probably gonna do it again.

7. Mass Effect 2 (2010)

The sequel to what is basically the space version of Dragon Age is shamefully my only exposure to the Mass Effect series, but the gameplay and characters left enough of a mark on me to give it a comfortable spot in this list. Mass Effect 2 follows Commander Shepard, overly macho space guy/gal who is a terrible flirt as he attempts to rid the universe of some massive insects. Along the way, you run into a huge cast of memorable, unique characters (and then Jacob as well) and explore a wealth of interesting and varying locations. But what really made the game stick out were the genuine lasting consequences of the frankly huge final mission; if you don’t make the right choices and buy the right upgrades, a lot of your faves are going to die.

6. Dishonored (2012)

This entry in my list is a bit cheaty, as it includes all dlc expansions from the first game as well as Dishonored 2, because all of these are just as good as each other. Dishonored puts you in the shoes of self-righteous arsehole Corvo Attano (I’m kidding btw, he’s only an arse if you make him kill everyone) as he gets framed for the murder of his lover who also happens to be the Empress, as well as the kidnap of his daughter who also happens to be the Empress’ daughter. So kind of a big deal. But all joking aside, Dishonored is one of the finest examples of the first person stealth genre, with arguably its only flaw being that it gives you a sprawling variety of fun and interesting ways to kill people and then makes you feel like a monster at the end of the game for doing it. I played this game and its sequels to death, and became especially invested in the character of Daud (who was totally butchered in Death of the Outsider. Yeah, I really wasn’t a fan of that game. Like, I love Billie Lurk and everything but what the hell were they thinking doing THAT to the Outsider?? Sorry I’m rambling)

5. Dragon Age: Origins (2009)

And now to one of the best RPGs I’ve ever played, Dragon Age is fucking amazing from start to finish. A gripping storyline, characters and companions that are impossible to forget and a combat system that’s fairly easy to get to grips with but becomes a bit of an arse later in the game. As much as I liked Inquisition (despite the fact it butchered Leliana. That’s just my hot take I don’t think anyone else thinks this, she just kind of lost that sense of fun and badassery that made her my fave in Origins. Rambling again), none of the other games in the series really matched up to the original for me.

4. Medievil Resurrection (2005)

I’ve been reliably informed that I am Bad And Naughty for loving this version of the game because it’s apparently rubbish compared to the PS1 version. But I loved this game so much as a kid that I played it to DEATH. Like more than Dishonored. The levels aren’t quite open world, but you get so immersed in them that you think they are. Honestly, I’ve never played a game with such a creative concept behind it, with humour that’s surprisingly meta for an RPG of the time, not to mention the fact that there’s a whole level devoted to carnival minigames. Are you not convinced yet? Well, you should be because Tom Baker is a voice in it and it’s coming out as a remaster for the PS4 at some point (I hope it’s soon. It’s gone eerily quiet)

3. Undertale (2015)

I know this is high for such a recent game, but it really has justified its place. I don’t care how much this game or its following has been ruined by the internet, I still hold it in the same regard I did when I first played it (and then bought all the subsequent ports because I’m a Capitalist Sheep). With an amazing narrative, some spicy retro-era graphics, memorable characters and possibly the best soundtrack I’ve ever heard in a game, there’s no way I’m ever getting sick of Undertale.

2. Dragon Quest IX: Sentinels of the Starry Skies (2009)

What sets this game apart from the other RPGs on this list was that not only did it have everything I look for in a game (amazing narrative, characters, soundtrack, game design, combat and open world) but it carried it all out with a sense of emotion I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Every single character, every single detail seemed to be something else you immediately became attached to and it all comes together to make a game so immersive I didn’t put it down for a solid 3 years, even after I’d completed it. Basically, if you own a DS, you NEED to play this. Like you will cry many times throughout this game. Sometimes happy crying (I think I just get a bit too invested in these things tbh)

Before I ramble on incessantly about my number 1 pick, here’s some of the best bois I’ve played that didn’t quite make the list:

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (2017) - I’m loving this game to bits so far. I’m only a recent Switch owner so I’m catching up on what I’ve missed and if this game carries on the way it is, it’s going to have to be in my top 10.

Rayman Legends (2013) - Fun, unique and memorable platformer that especially shines in couch co-op. I’ve played this one countless times and I won’t stop until Rayman gets in Smash.

The Walking Dead series (2012-2018) - One of the best sets of decision based games on the market and perfect if you’re looking for a game that tears your heart out and stomps on it!

Fallout 4 (2015) - Amazing open world, characters and combat. Well-designed, genuinely terrifying monsters. The ability to name your weapons ridiculous things. Heck yeah it’s going on this list.

Final Fantasy Fables: Chocobo Tales (2006) - A cute lil card based RPG that was a Final Fantasy spin-off no one seemed to like. But hey, I loved it and I’ll never say it’s anything other than perfect because childhood.

1. The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion (2006)

Oh my god. Ohhh my god. Where do I even begin with this one? Yes, Skyrim was amazing, but Oblivion just beats it due to a combination of a storyline I prefer (oops sorry), nostalgic attachment and a lovely set of glitches and exploits that to me make the game all the more lovable. There’s nothing I’ve played since Oblivion that’s matched the experience of wandering through a forest or one of the cities with THAT MUSIC in the background. And don’t even get me started on the quests. And that Shivering Isles DLC? Big yes. I knew this segment wouldn’t make much sense but I love the game so much that I can’t even begin to tell you all the things that make it my favourite.

Thank you for reading if you made it this far! It was just me rambling about games really but I appreciate u a lot if you made it this far. Have a good day and if you get the time, pick up one or two of the titles on this list! You bigly won’t regret it.

[the-elf-mahat]

Solace

(( A sort of sequel/”one year later” companion piece to Solstice, the first IC story I posted on this blog. A lot has changed since then, for both me and Mahat, almost all of it for the better. We’ve both been moving from just surviving to actually living life, and it’s a rough journey sometimes, but having friends along for the ride makes all the difference. Special shout-out to @coldwall-collective, all you nerds are my family and I love you and you’re gonna have to live with that. Thank you also to all of you who have taken the time to get to know ‘Hat in game, or to read the stories here on Tumblr. It means so, so much to me. I hope you all have a beautiful and bright New Year. ))

-music-

It was the longest night of the year, and Mahat wasn't alone.

They made their way up the mountainside together, the three of them—two dark-sighted elves helping along a small, half-human child when the path grew rocky and steep. Their progress was much slower than the last time she had come this way by herself, but Mahat didn't feel the need to rush a single moment of it. She kept looking back over her shoulder and smiling at her two most beloved: the tall elven man, lean and strong, long white hair dripping over his shoulders like moonlight while silvery stubble did nothing to hide the crooked grin on his face, and the little girl holding his hand, bouncing and bubbly even at that late hour, her dark curls as abundant as her eager questions.

“Are we a'most there? Have you ever been 'ere, Mister Jaoyn? I en't gone cuz Mum said I were too small an' couldn't make the climb but I'm a really good climber now, see? I kin almos' do it all by m'self! What kind o' tree is that? D'you like countin' stars, Mister Jaoyn?” Her sweet, fluting voice flowed around and over Jaoyn's softly amused answers, as easily as a creek over stones, darting from one subject to the next with barely a pause for breath.

Eventually, the terrain leveled out, before dipping them into the small, deep bowl of a clearing. There was a lake at the center, black and gleaming like obsidian under the night sky, while the rest of the crevice was lush with mountain grasses and moss, sheltered from the winds by the high rock walls. The trio unrolled a thick wool blanket onto the ground and curled up together, Saera in the middle while Jaoyn and Mahat framed her like parentheses.

They lay like that for a long time, watching the stars drift by above them, telling each other stories about the things they saw in the sky. Jaoyn gave his rendition of a Tarauhe legend about how the moon fell in love with a white stag, and Mahat recited an ancient tale about a sky goddess that no one else in the world would ever remember. Saera, meanwhile, regaled the adults with the exciting adventures of her stuffed rabbit Ham and her rag doll Paedru, as they set out to steal a star for their very own and ended up jousting with an ill-tempered dragon and answering riddles set for them by a harpy queen, before finally succeeding in their quest and coming home just in time for a crucial tea party.

“Saera...” Mahat said cautiously, as the story drew to its close. “I 'ave a question fer ye.”

Sensing in her mother's tone that this would be a Very Important Grown-Up Question, the girl immediately sat up straight and folded her hands in her lap, nodding solemnly, her grey eyes wide with interest. Mahat covered her mouth briefly to hide a smile, before collecting herself once more.

“I know ye an' Jaoyn is still getting' 'quainted wi' each other, but I reckon ye two is on th' way ta bein' good friends, eh?” Identical eager nods from the man and the child greeted her statement, and she almost lost her composure to laughter again. “Aye, an' I feel th' same abou' th' both o' ye. Matter o' fact, I love both o' ye ver' much.” She took a breath to steady herself, hoping against all evidence to the contrary that this, all of this, was the right thing to do. “I asked Jaoyn ta marry me. Wha' d'ye think abou' tha'?”

Saera's expression crumpled in sorrow and Mahat felt her heart seize in her chest. “But he's no' my da!”

“Oh, love—nay, nay, 'e en't but--” Mahat reached out to her daughter without thinking and plunged onwards, trying to ignore the churning in her gut and the stricken look on Jaoyn's face. “But I swear, 'e loves ye an' me both, jes' as much as yer da e'er did. I bloody—I miss yer da like crazy, ev'ry damn day an' I know ye do too. But ye know… y'know 'e wouldn' want us t' stay sad an' lonely f'ever, eh?” Her voice softened as Saera's lips quivered and her eyes swam with held-back tears. “There, love… 's all righ'… nobody's fergettin' yer da, or replacin' 'im… there's more'n enou' love in my 'eart fer ye an' him an' Jaoyn too, an' I reckon… if ye look, ye'll find there's more'n enou' in yers too. Ye didn't stop lovin' Ham jes' cuz Jaoyn gave ye Paedru, eh?” The child sniffled heavily and shook her head. “Aye, 'course no', e'en though ye love Paedru too, jes' as much. It'll be like tha'. Ye'll always 'ave yer da wi' ye, watchin' o'er ye, bein' a part o' ye. Ye won't lose 'im—neither o' us will, I promise. We's jes' lucky, ye an' I, cuz we found one more person we kin love, who loves us.”

Saera wavered, looking hopeful but still hesitant. Jaoyn spoke up then, hastening to soothe the child even through his own worry and mild horror at her reaction to the news. “Miss Saera, everything your mother says is true. Your father… I never met him, but it's clear he loved you and your mother very, very much. I would never—I would hate for you to think I wanted to steal him from you, in some way. All I want is for you and your mother to be happy and safe… and to be there to make sure of it.” His odd, gentle formality seemed to sway the little girl, and she nodded slowly.

“I think—you're nice, Mister Jaoyn. I don't think you would do mean things or try an' steal my da. I think Mum loves you a lot an' Ham an' Paedru both like you and think you're funny.” Saera gained some confidence as she spoke, though she was still a bit unsteady and the tears in her eyes hadn't entirely vanished. “Um. I would like it ver' much if you married my mum. But if you en't my da then wha' is ye?” Her brow furrowed in deep concern.

“Whatever you'd like me to be, Miss Saera… an uncle perhaps… or simply Jaoyn,” the man replied, meeting her gaze with equal gravity.

“I have a uncle a'ready,” she said dismissively, before brightening suddenly, the tips of her half-elven ears flicking up to peep through her mass of curls. “Oh! You can be my an'da.” She used the Darnassian word for “father” blithely and firmly, as though that settled the matter. Jaoyn and Mahat exchanged a brief look of desperate relief—was it really just that simple?--before the girl spoke up again. “Does tha' mean we kin live t'gether, Mum? Like we used ta? Like a, a family?” She was nearly breathless with excitement all of a sudden, her eyes gleaming in the night almost as brightly as a true Kaldorei's.

Mahat felt the back of her throat drop out and her insides plummeting into endless void. “N-nay… nay, lass. No' yet. It en't safe--” Her voice was dry as the dust of a tomb as she watched the shining hope in her daughter's face twist itself into despair and then an instant later, furious anger.

“Why no’?!” Saera shrieked, eyes welling with tears once again. “Ye said—you said—he loves us! He wants to keep us safe, an', an' happy! We should be happy an' we should be together! It en't fair!” The child's howl of grief echoed off the canyon walls, cutting into Mahat deeper than most knives she'd felt.

“It en't, it en't, y'right love...” Mahat mumbled, trying to keep from cracking to pieces while her daughter needed help, needed her to be strong. “There's nothin' 'bout this tha's fair, an' ye kin be angry, ye 'ave ev'ry right t' be angry, at—at th' world, at me—I's sorry, I's so damn sorry, I's doin' ev'rythin' I kin--” Her voice cracked on a harsh sob just as strong arms settled around her shoulders and pulled her in close.

“It's all right, my love,” Jaoyn murmured in her ear, holding her tightly as she clutched at his shirt and struggled to calm her erratic breathing. It was only a moment, but it was enough, the kiss he pressed to her forehead centering her, making the world swim back into focus. She squeezed his hand gratefully and glanced at Saera, who seemed about an inch and a half away from total meltdown herself, only momentarily stalled as her rage vied with concern for her clearly stricken mother.

Jaoyn nodded in understanding, and gently released Mahat, turning his focus to Saera. “Indeed, it's all right to be angry, Miss Saera. Sometimes it's even good to be angry, because it helps us fight against the bad things. But sometimes you get angry and there's no bad things around to fight, so you know what I do then?” he asked conspiratorially, drawing a suspicious yet curious headshake from the girl. “I fight a tree.”

Saera let out a stifled little giggle, and Jaoyn widened his eyes and waggled his ears in exaggerated emphasis. “It's true! Them barky sorts have to be taught a lesson, always lookin' down on us shorter folks. I go out and give 'em a proper beatdown, even though they try to fight back by puttin' all their splintery bits in my knuckles.” He offered her his hand, rife with the callouses and scars of millenia, a stark, massive contrast to her tiny, soft palms. “In fact, I think I spy an aspen gettin' all snobbish on the other side of the lake. Come help me show it what's what?”

The child nodded eagerly, getting to her feet and scrubbing the moisture from her eyes. Hand in hand, they headed off to fight the trees, Jaoyn shooting Mahat a soft, encouraging smile over his shoulder as they went.

Mahat couldn't help but smile in return, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them tight as she watched the two figures recede into the distance. “I do no' deserve tha' man...” she whispered wryly to her knees, her panic ebbing away as her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace—until it was sent spiking by a too-familiar voice in her head.

“Damn righ' ye don't.”

“Fuck off,” Mahat growled, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. She didn't need this too. Not tonight.

“Ye always need me. 'Specially t'night. Wha' th' fuck is ye thinkin'? Playin' houses like a damn schoolgirl? Ye know 'ow this story ends, 'ow it always ends.”

“It don't always 'ave t' end th' same.”

“Sure it does, an' ye know it. Ye's on'y lyin' ta y'self by pretendin' diff'rent.”

“Sometimes lies become th' truth when they's believed in hard enou',” Mahat murmured, weary but still defiant. “Ye weren' born wha' ye is. Ye made y'self—ye lied t' yerself abou' wha' ye was 'til it became true. I kin do th' same.”

There was a bark of cruel laughter in her mind. “Ye think ye kin lie yer way inta bein' a good person? Fool y'self inta bein' a lover, bein' a fuckin' mother? Y'stupider'n I thought. Tha' kinda shite's beyond us.”

“Beyond ye. But I en't ye.”

“Aye, so y'keep sayin'. But 's jes' another lie ye tell y'self, eh? Elsewise… why en't ye tried ta get rid o' me, if y'so sure I's summat other'n ye?”

“It en't poss'ble.”

“Horseshite. Ye en't tried. Ye know all manner o' fancy magic spooks an' mindfuckers, y'tellin' me ye don' think a single one o' 'em cou' do summat? Don' bother lyin', I know th' truth. Ye's scared. Ye know if ye lose me, ye lose y'self. An' th' damn irony is, ye's gonna lose y'self one day anyway. One day soon, when yer playhouse comes crashin' down around y'ears.”

Mahat bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood, her vision going red at the corners. “Shut y'fuckin' mouth.”

The other voice turned suddenly, absurdly, gentle and earnest. “'S th' both o' us t'gether, love, an' tha's all we'll e'er 'ave. Bes' accept tha', accept us, afore ye lose summat else y'held close an' then lose y'mind entirely. Ev'ryun else kin break. Ev'ryun else kin die. From th' greatest t' th' smallest...” A child's cry carried across the dark water of the lake, and Mahat bolted upright, every sense and instinct frozen in place by a bolt of perfect, horrifying fear.

It was a laugh, she realized a second later. She could see the two figures in the distance under the aspen tree. Jaoyn had punched the trunk and was miming a dramatically pained reaction, and Saera was cackling in delighted laughter, her tears and anger forgotten. Mahat dropped back down to the blanket and curled in on herself, adrenaline making her heart pound and her shoulders shake. The rush faded quickly, leaving her numb and empty, but when Jaoyn and Saera returned, she folded the latter swiftly in her arms and leaned back into the other's embrace.

The three of them cuddled together on the blanket again, Mahat in the center this time. Jaoyn kissed her neck and softly stroked her hair as she whispered an apology to Saera, who accepted with sleepy amiability, yawning and burrowing into her mother's side like a heat-seeking kitten. Fighting to crawl from beneath the shadow of her fear, Mahat found herself emerging into starlight, surrounded by love and comfort, suspended in a moment that was untouchable, inviolable by whispers, by lies, by secrets. It didn't matter who she was, or who she'd been. The past was an echo and the future a question; only the present, only that moment, was real.

Saera murmured a request for a song, a lullaby that had always been her favorite. Mahat's lips parted, voice hesitant and creaking with emotion at first, slowly building to something smooth and strong and sweet. Jaoyn knew the song, she'd sung it to him before, and his warm baritone voice came rolling in, supporting her and filling out the lower notes. Saera let out a happy sigh, radiating peace and contentment as she drifted off. Mahat soaked in that peace, drowning her fears and her senses, relishing it like the Light itself.

It was the longest night of the year, and she wasn't alone.