#ch: aurelia

[cursedbeasts]

Aurelia Alpha-1-Omega, Fabricator General of Urum-13

2023

[pavus]

dirty grimy filthy babygirls.

[littlelovelyra]

The First Move. (Pt 2 of The Change)

Astarion x F!Tav

This time she will not get away. This time Aurelia will pay for helping him. You want to hear her scream.

3,344 words.

Part 2/? I’m thinking of making this a series leading up to C*zador’s demise. I’ve switched perspectives a few times here because there were certain moments I wanted from Astarion’s eyes and not Tav’s, I hope it’s easy to follow.

Part one here

Mature themes Minors DNI

Summary: It has been a few weeks since Cazador turned you into a spawn and returned you to your lover in the hopes of destroying him. He was so sure Astarion would leave you behind and give up. Instead, Astarion has embraced you and your changes, providing you with all the love and care that you had given him. He has seen how hard it has been for you to get used to this new way of living, as you haven’t been yourself. To distract you, he has taken you out for a lesson on hunting. However, it seems there are other plans in store for your evening.

Warnings: Fluff, cuteness, sappy, mentions of Cazador/abuse (I try not to do this too intensely), suggestive flirting/language, death, Tav gets called a wh*re so there’s a warning for that too.

Tav:

As you sit on the balcony of the Elfsong Tavern, you hear his voice lingering in the back of your mind, “I have big plans for you”. The sun sets across the sky, painting it a beautiful pink and orange, and you catch yourself savouring the view, knowing that once the tadpole is gone, you will not have the luxury of witnessing such beauty again in person. However, your thoughts keep returning to Astarion. You imagine him all alone, going through these changes with nobody by his side, and your heart aches for him. How much pain and loneliness he must have experienced all these years.

The nightmares are always the same. You find yourself in a cold, wet cell as Cazador throws you around like you weigh nothing. It all happens so fast. Panic and fear take over your entire being as he bites down on your neck. Once he leaves the cell, you look down at your hands, only to realise they are not yours. No, these hands belong to Astarion. Shortly after, you are transported out of his body, looking into his cell, watching him cower in fear, his soul breaking repeatedly. That’s when your screaming begins.

“So my sweet, what do you think?” He asks you, taking both your hands in his and dropping his gaze to meet your eyes.

"What do I think about what?" you ask, looking confused. Concern floods his features instantly. "Sorry, I've done it again, haven't I?" You squeeze his hands and offer him a small apologetic smile. A feeling of shame courses through you. He's been so good to you since your change. He never lets go of you during the evenings, holding you through the nightmares just as you held him through his. You want to be more present for him, but your lingering thoughts betray you. Every good thing he does to support you, you just can't help thinking how he had no one.

His hands gently cradle your face as he leans in, resting his forehead against yours. "You never have to apologise to me, my love. I understand what you're going through. I'm here if you want to talk about it," he says softly. He brushes his lips against yours, kissing you slowly. A tear escapes your stinging eyes and trails down your cheek, meeting your lips. He pulls back for a moment, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. His body no longer feels cool to the touch, you had always wondered what it would feel like if the two of you ran at the same temperature, and now you know. At first, you mourned the coolness of his skin, but this warmth, this closeness, makes you feel his love even more deeply.

“I had asked you if you would like to come hunting with me this evening?” He’s moved back again and watches your face cautiously, you see he doesn’t want to pressure you, his eyes filled with unwavering love and patience. 

“I would like that very much, Star.” You reach your hand up and stroke his cheek feeling your heart swell as he closes his eyes, leaning his lips towards your palm and breathes out a sigh of relief. 

“Come on then.” He takes your hand in his as he stands and leads you to the ladder back down to your private quarters.

________

Astarion:

 “First, we need to get changed into darker attire, to blend into our surroundings easily so we don’t draw any attention to ourselves” You shift out of your shirt and move towards her, gently removing her blouse, running your fingers down her arms making sure you stop to hold her hands and kiss her cheek. 

Turning to the cupboard you retrieve two long-sleeved leather tops, two hoods and two black trousers. As you hand her one set she arches her eyebrow and looks at you with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Matching hunting outfits?” A short soft giggle escapes her mouth and you spring to life at the sound. 

“Do that again, little love.” You say wrapping your arms around her. Your skin feels warm against hers, Gods it’s been weeks since you have heard her laugh. You would give anything to hear it again. “So loved. You are so loved. You don’t even realise how much of my heart you have.” Your thoughts press into hers, you rarely use the tadpole but there are moments such as this where you make exceptions. Words that are only meant for her, you send them straight into her mind filling it with as much love as you possibly can. She buries her head against your bare chest and you feel a small smile spread across her face. 

“I can feel you smiling darling, that's not very nice of you to keep such a beautiful thing hidden from me.” Your words are an exaggerated whine. She doesn’t budge as soft giggles start bubbling from her, sending small shivers down your spine at the sound. “Would it surprise you to know that not only did I get us matching hunting outfits but I had also purchased us matching lacy under clothes, bows and all. Bright magenta even. I thought It may accentuate my wonderful figure.” Your tone is playful as you step back giving a little playful twirl. 

She pauses for a moment then laughter erupts from her while a wide smile spreads across her face and you feel as though you just might die at the sight of it. You meet her gaze with your smile plastered across your face as you make your way back to her. Swooping her up, you kiss her deeply and gently place her back onto the ground. “As much as I love being your personal clown, my love, time is of the essence here and we have some hunting to do.”

You both change into your hunting clothes and set off hand in hand.

****

After a short walk just outside of Rivington, you find yourselves perched behind a boulder carefully tracking a bear that is lazily moving through a clearing heading right towards you. For a brief moment, you wonder how your friend Halsin may feel knowing what your choice of cuisine has been as of late.

“Okay, my sweet, the trick here is to wait for the right opportunity to attack. Patience is key, if we move a second too early or late that could cost us our meal.” You have chosen to communicate this through the tadpole to ensure that everything goes according to plan. She needs a decent meal and this bear could fill you both easily.

“What’s with the berries we placed? Is it really going to fall for that?” She sends a mental note back, you sense a bit of doubt coating her words. You simply turn to look at her and raise your eyebrows acting offended, she silently raises her hands in surrender.

Just as you had planned the bear spots the berries and cautiously approaches them, scanning its surroundings. “Hold absolutely still, do not breathe. Once it lowers its guard it will drop its head and start eating. The very moment its mouth touches the berries we flank each of its sides and I’ll make the move. Understood?” You look at her and she nods her head ever so slightly.

The bear dips its head to eat and you take your opportunity, the two of you flanking each of its sides and before it even has a moment to react you are at its neck, swiftly and mercifully bringing it to its end.

“You first, my love. Drink till you feel satisfied.” You watch a she slowly approaches the bear, whispers something in its ear, strokes its face, and sinks her teeth into the creature. Moments later she steps aside for you and you take your fill.

The two of you find yourself lying in the clearing staring at the stars. You can’t help but feel somewhat reflective of the first moment the two of you found yourselves alone in a clearing. She was so trusting, so soft, you close your eyes offering a silent thanks to whatever gods brought her into your life.

She shifts turning on her side to face you and you turn on yours moving closer to her. You extend your arms and wrap her into an embrace breathing her in. She smells of cinnamon and petrichor… cool, refreshing but also warm and homey. The moment is interrupted as you feel her body stiffen beside you.

“What is it, my love?” You watch her gaze staring behind you. Slowly you turn yourself and you see Leon approaching you and your beloved. Again. Just like the night in the tavern. You both spring to your feet and you hold her firm behind you.

“One more fucking step and you will not live to see another day.” You hiss out as you ready yourself for a fight.

“Come, brother, you have proven your point. Bring her with, he will forgive you.” Leon speaks slowly as he inches forward two steps.

“Ignis!” You fling out a firebolt landing right at his feet. “I said don’t. Fucking. Move.” You growl through gritted teeth. You know Aurelia will be somewhere nearby, they never travel alone.

As if on cue she steps out into the clearing to your side and you feel Tav shift her attention to Aurelia, her body begins to shake as your arm stays protectively in front of her. She starts to step out from behind you, and you notice her hands moving in a fluid motion, a pale purple light emanates from them. You know this spell. She is going to cast a hold on Aurelia.

“Going somewhere?” She cocks her head to the side, with a small smirk, her voice is soft and menacing as she extends her hands outward successfully trapping Aurelia in place. Reaching into your boot you retrieve a dagger and expertly throw it straight into Leon’s chest, just missing his heart.

“If I were you, brother, I would be running now.” You start stalking forward as Leon disappears in a cloud of red ash, leaving Aurelia trapped by the hold spell.

“Darling, how long can you concentrate for me? I would love to have a word with my beloved sister.” You kiss her cheek as she walks with you toward the trapped spawn.

This time she will not get away. This time Aurelia will pay for helping him. You want to hear her scream.

_____

Tav:

As you focus on Aurelia, your eyes never waver from hers, your concentration unbroken. The rage building inside you feels like it could set you on fire. In the background, you can hear Astarion rummaging through his backpack.

“What are you looking for Star?” You call out to him.

“Don’t worry about me, just, hold her there. You’re doing great my love… AHA! There it is!” He walks past you, places an amulet around Aurelia’s neck, and grips her wrists firmly with his hands. “Alright, you can drop the hold now, she won’t be able to go anywhere. I… “obtained” this amulet from some weirdo in an alleyway back in Baldur’s Gate. The wearer can't use any form of magic and yes before you ask I already got Gale to fact-check this. It will work.”

You release the holding spell and watch as Aurelia tries to teleport herself and Astarion from the clearing. Her eyes widen in panic as she realises that she cannot move. "Why can't I move, Astarion?! Let me go, brother!" Her voice rises in fear.

“Hah! Haha! Leaving so soon sister? I thought you were up for a little family reunion?” He says twisting her arms as he drags her to a nearby tree. “Tav darling, please be a dear and get the rope from my backpack. We need to secure our guest.” His eyes meet yours as a sly grin spreads across his features. You simply nod, retrieve the rope and help him tie her to the tree.

You watch as he pulls another blade from his boot and lifts it, running the sharp edge slowly down her cheek. She wails in pain as blood trickles down her face.

His voice is low, the words coated in venom as a growl forms deep in the back of his throat: “You dared to show your face near me again? Near her?" The sound sends a cold chill down your spine. “You have made a grave mistake finding us again, sister. And this time… I am afraid you will not be returning to your Master. No. Your little part in this game ends here.” He takes his dagger and thrusts it into her side, a blood-curdling scream erupts from her mouth.

“You can kill me brother, but he will find you and your little whore of a pet. He will take her you know? His most beautiful spawn. Heard it myself” She spits the words in your direction as you watch Astarion’s body become tense.

_____

Astarion:

Whore? Rage fills your body, causing your hands to tremble. His most beautiful spawn. You level your gaze with Aurelia and breathe out “I’m going to fucking kill you… and then… then I’m going to kill him and ANYONE ELSE who even looks at her the wrong way.” Before she can retort you swiftly thrust the blade upward and end her sorry existence.

You wipe the blade clean on the corpse’s attire and retrieve the amulet from its neck. Slowly you approach your lover, cautiously placing your hands on either side of her arms. Her eyes have grown distant again and you pull her against your body. “Come, we’re done here. That will put a few obstacles in the way of the ascension.”

**

You arrive back in your room at the Elfsong Tavern and guide her to sit on the bed. She hasn’t said a single word since leaving the clearing. You prepare a warm bath for both of you, dropping sprigs of lavender in the water. As the scent slowly starts to fill the air, you inhale deeply. Walking back to the bed you kneel before her, assisting her with her boots and carefully start to undress her. Taking her hand in yours you lead her to the tub and gently lift her over its edge. She slowly sinks into the water, and her muscles begin to relax, releasing the tension they’ve been holding.

You undress from your bloodied clothing, chucking them in the corner of the room, grabbing a washcloth to wipe off the blood on your skin before you climb into the tub and settling yourself behind her. You grab the soap and sponge and you start slowly working the soap into a lather on her back. Her head drops forward slightly and she exhales a shaky breath as she brings her hands to her face. Her body begins to shake with soft sobs that make your chest feel like it’s caving in. Saying nothing you tenderly rotate her to face you as you wrap your arms around her, bringing her against your chest in a cuddle.

Your head rests atop hers “Shhh little love. I’ve got you. You are safe.” You run your hand up and down her back and place a soft kiss on her temple.

“He won’t stop will he?” She says quietly into your chest.

“I’m afraid not my sweet. He might be all the more furious now since he’ll need to replace Aurelia for the rite.” You know she needs to hear the truth, it’s no use sugarcoating the situation. “We will get through this. You will get through this. You will adjust to this new life, I know you didn’t choose it, not many of us do. But, you are not alone and I will be here when you are ready to talk about it. I can see it eating away at you.” You press the palm of your hand against her cheek as she looks up at you she presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Astarion… it’s not that I don’t want to talk about what happened to me. I… I have accepted it. The reason I have been so silent is because all I can think about is how you had no one. You went through all of these changes, alone… I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have felt like.” Her eyes scan your face as she continues, “The support you have offered me, I can’t stop thinking about how you never had this and it breaks my heart. It makes me hate him more than anything I have ever hated. I have never felt this much hatred towards another being in my existence. I’m scared of him getting his hands on you. I will do anything, anything to keep you safe. I thank the gods it was me they grabbed that night.” Her eyes glisten with the tears that are making their escape down her cheeks.

Incredible. You think to yourself, her life changed overnight and all she can think about is you over these last few weeks. How lucky you are to know a love like this. Never in your 200 years did you think you would be out of Cazador’s grip let alone finding love and feeling the most seen you have ever felt.

“Little love… you are… so selfless.” You scatter tender kisses over her face. “You have shown me a love that I never believed existed. You make me feel seen, heard and safe. With you, I feel like I can take on the nine hells themselves. You don’t need to worry about what I went through. Although it was… difficult… it led me to you, to this and I would do it all again if it meant you were waiting for me at the end.” You bring her lips to yours and kiss her deeply, feeling her body melt into yours as she wraps her arms around your neck. She rests her head on your shoulder, and you both stay there, enveloped in the warmth of the water and your embrace.

“I promise you this, Cazador will die by my hand and it will be a painful death.” You whisper into her hair breathing in her scent.

“As long as I am there to watch you do it.” She whispers back her breath cool against your neck.

“As you wish, darling.” Your smile spreads softly across your face. You know, and you believe that even he knows… Cazador is on borrowed time.

You are coming for him.

***********

Part 3 here

[queersrus]

astronomy witch theme

(nick)names:

astra, astro, astre, astera, astel/astelle, astella, ariel, aura, aurora, aurore, aure, aurelie/auralie, auralia/aurelia, atlas, aristar, aries, altair, astreaus, aether, apollo, apolla, artemis bila, boreals, boreal comet, cosma, cosmic, cosmo, celest/celeste, celestia, celestio, callisto, calypso, Cassiopeia, claudius, caelum, caelus, cassio dusk, dawn estel/estell/estelle, estella, elera, elio, esther, eclipse, eclipsa, eclipso, eostre, eos galaxy, galactica, galactico, galactix, galactic, galacta, galaxius hecate/hekate, helios, hemera, hera iris, ira juno, jupiter, janus kepler, keyra/kayra lune, luna/loona, lunar, luno, lunette, lyra moon, moona, mars/marz, miranda, meno nova, nix/nyx, nox, nuit pandora, pallas, pulsar, pollux rhea stel/stell/stelle, stella, steller/stellar, star, stella, stary/starie, sol, soleil, solar, solette, solina, solana, solace, solstice tian vesper, vega xian zorya

surnames:

astra, ayla, airy, array, aquila, antlia estrela/estrella, eddington, eridanus kepler, kuiper herschel, halley, hale, hypatia, hevelius drake starcatcher, starwatch, stargaze(r), starlight, scorpius, spellman Cassiopeia orion ursa delphi, delphius pictor fortune le fay/fe/faye nightingale, nighwatch, nightmoon moon brightmoon gloom, gloam

titles:

the witch of the stars, the witch who studies the stars, the star watch, the astronomer, the witch, the astronomer witch, the stellar witch, the witch who knows the sky, the witch of the night sky

(prn) who knows the stars, (prn) who studdies the stars, (prn) who knows the magic of the stars, (prn) who practices witchcraft in starligh, (prn) who studdies magic by starlight

1st p: i/me/my/mine/myself

si/star/stars/starself sti/stell/stellars/stellarself ai/astre/astros/astroself ai/astronome/astronomy/astronomine/astronomyself wi/witch/witches/witch's/witchself wy/witch/witchs/witchself ci/conste/consteli/constellations/constellationself mi/magi/magics/magicself

2nd p: you/your/yours/yourself

sto/star/stars/starself sto/steller/stellers/stellerself astro/astr/astrs/astrself astro/astronomer/astronomers/astronomerself wo/witcher/witchers/witcherself co/consteller/constellers/constellerself mo/magicr/magicrs/magicrself

3rd p: they/them/theirs/themself

star/stars, sta/ar, star/stary, stary/sky, stary/night, star/light stell/stella, stell/a, stel/la, stell/steller, steller/stellers, stellar/stellars astro/astros, astro/astronomy, astro/nomy, astro/nomer, astro/astronomer, astronomy/astronomys, astronomy/astronomer constellation/constellations, constell/constellation, constell/ation wit/ch, witch/witches, wit/witch, wi/witch, witch/witchy, witch/craft, witchcraft/witchcrafts magic/magics, ma/gic, magic/magical

[whumble-beeee]

Into the Woods and Out of the Woods

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 9

Content: mentioned past capture, angst, mentioned (potential) character death, child in distress (only for a second there tho)

* * * * * * * *

“In this life, you need to do everything in your power to survive and thrive. Supers aren’t allowed to thrive in this world. We're forced to hide, we're forced to serve, we're taken advantage of. If we don't comply, then we're dangerous, we’re feared, then we're subjugated, imprisoned, or killed. Just look at what they did to me because of my power, weak as it is [...] [They] made an example out of me, knowing I couldn't fight back, and time and time again it has been shown that I am not the only one. The current system needs to be dismantled and started anew. And if– when– ‘The Man’ says no? Then he must be taken down too.”

– Supervillain Aurelias “Elias” Byrne, codename “Alias"

**Note: Danger Level Five: Any sightings of this individual should be reported to the police immediately. DO NOT INTERACT.

* * * * * * * *

[~Not long before Stan McKellen’s recapture (the events of Ch. 1)~]

"My legs hurt!" a high voice groaned from just behind Stan. He sighed deeply and simply continued walking, arms and legs burning for rest from the nonstop exertion.

"Yeah I know, mine too. But we're almost there. And you're not the one with a bad knee, you can make it."

"But you have a magic cane to help you! I just have my stupid normal legs!" Chloe stomped on the ground with each syllable to illustrate her point.

"I'm not using my magic right now, so the cane is just a cane and my leg still hurts just as much as usual,” Stan countered. “More actually. Not to mention my wrist is killing me because I didn't have time to grab my crutch. So that's just gone now, I guess."

"You should use your power to make it easier, like you do when you’re fighting. And use it on me too! Just make my legs walk for me!"

"Not happening, I don’t wanna pass out and die from exhaustion on this hill using my powers because your legs got tired."

"But I'm about to pass out and die on this hill from exhaustion because my legs got tired. You should teach me how to use my powers, then I could just do it myself.”

“Squeaks, I don't know if you noticed, but we're basically being hunted for sport because of those exact powers.”

"Chloe, you wanna ride on my back?" Marcus chimed in, exhausted from listening to his beloved fiancé and said fiancé's equally as beloved younger sister bicker back and forth. Nonstop. For the entire trip.

"Marcus, don't encourage her. We're literally almost there," Stan groaned. He actually had no idea how far they were from the 'campsite'. But Chloe didn't need to know that.

“It's fine Stan, she's tired, she's a kid, we've been walking a long time. I get it.”

“Nuh-uh!” Chloe said in an obnoxiously nasally voice.

“Nuh-uh?” Marcus questioned, at the same time Stan reflexively cracked out a “Yuh-huh!” without even knowing what the hell he was “yuh-huh"-ing.

“Nuh-uh, I'm not a kid!”

“You're thirteen actually, so you're a kid,” Marcus laughed.

“Nuh-uh, nope! Thirteen. ThirTEEN! Teen! Teenager! I'm a teenager! Not a kid!”

“You're not a teenager until you're sixteen, actually,” Stan stated, amused smile pulling lightly at the corners of his mouth.

“Sixteen is basically an adult already, you can't be basically an adult and also barely a teenager, Stan,” Chloe said matter-of-factly.

But at least she wasn't complaining about being tired anymore.

“And I am a teenager, or else why would it be thirTEEN!?”

“Well, only kids get to ride on my back,” Marcus retorted with ridiculously heightened haughtiness, nose raised and all. “So no riding on my back for you then, big teenager.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes at Marcus. “Fine, I didn't want to ride on your back anyw–!”

“AND we're here!” Stan announced cheerfully, cutting them off with a mighty huff.

And all fell silent.

Wind whistled through the branches overhead, swishing through leaves with a gentle rustle as the crunching of dirt underfoot came to a grinding halt. The chirps of birds in the distance became audible in their tentative silence, whistles and cheeps and squawks filling the air with a cheerfully chaotic melody. The smell of wet dirt and decaying leaves wafted through the cool air. 

Chloe, of course, was the first to point out the obvious. “Uh. What do you mean?… There's nothing here…”

“Except for the beautiful sounds and sights of nature!” Marcus proclaimed, spreading his arms out and spinning around as if surrounded by the beautiful rolling hills of Austria instead of… Well, the same trees they’d been passing by unheeded for the last hour.

Stan pointed at a dinky circle of rocks on the ground, a slight char to the earth scorching the center of the ring. “Fire pit. This is it.”

“Oh okay, my bad, I guess,” Chloe sarcastically raised her arms in surrender. “Didn't know that a pile of rocks passes for a campsite now.”

“Well, it's what we've got.” Stan plopped his full-to-bursting backpack into the barely-packed dirt. “Hard to be picky when you're on the run from a buncha psycho government crazies trying to torture us or whatever.”

Chloe raised her brow and tilted her head at her brother, arms crossed in that know-it-all sort of way. “Stan. Just because you got a shattered knee doesn’t mean you need to break my back by making me sleep on the best choice owl bones and sharp rocks.”

“Chloe!” Marcus' voice nearly cracked with how high it went, appalled.

“No, no, it’s fine Marcus, she didn't mean it like that,” Stan said. She was just frustrated. “Look, it’s what we got for now. I’ll try to figure out something better for tomorrow. And hey, at least it's not under a bridge or something.”

“Or some mad scientist's lab,” Marcus pointed out.

Chloe shrugged. “I'm just saying, generally it's good to find a place where you don't have to wonder if someone might’ve been burned at the stake.”

Stan had to admit, he felt that same hopeless pit in his stomach that his sister must've been feeling. This was not how he had been hoping to spend his day. Or week, month, year. In fact, he had been hoping he would never have to flee again. Sadly, sometimes it's just not written in the stars that certain people get their way. Ever, apparently.

“... hey Chlo?” Stan called. “How you holding up?” 

She pelted a rock she'd found somewhere into the endless void of the forest. “I'm fine. Wish we had like…” she gestured around, arms wide before throwing them back down to her sides.  “Walls. Or like a roof, or something.”

Ditto.

“Stan?” Marcus called from behind him. Stan quickly made his way over to his fiancé so they could talk in private, as private as you could talk in the woods when the person you're talking about is a 3-second jog away.

“What is it? What's wrong?” Stan whispered quickly.

Marcus grinned conspiratorially at him, eyes flicking around the clearing as if searching for ninjas eavesdropping to learn of his dastardly plans.

“I think it's time–” he whispered dramatically, “for Plan 'Brother-sister-bonding-by-teaching-her-how-to-use-her-powers-and-get-her-out-of-the-mood-she’s-in’.”

Stan scoffed, failing to not let an amused shine crack through features at Marcus’ ridiculousness even as a very real worry took root in his chest. “I guess it probably is time she learned. It’s just hard for her, you know how complicated her feelings are about the powers. But I suppose if no one's around out here to see it, plenty of space…”

“And hopefully it'll help her out of that funk. I can't even begin to think what must be going through her head right now…”

“I can.”

Will I ever see my friends again?

What important things did I leave behind?

Where are we gonna sleep tonight?

When is the next time I'll get the chance to eat?

What if my brother is caught?

What if we're both caught?

Will I finally get to see what mom and dad and Stan had to go through?

I thought we were finally safe.

“It's… it's bad.”

Marcus just nodded sympathetically. The silence was excruciating. 

“... but she's a tough kid, she'll make it through.” Stan finally managed to choke out. “We all will.” 

Marcus pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. “How about this: you both go train, and while you're gone, I'll go back to that convenience store we saw a couple miles back and get some supplies. Y’know, the essentials, marshmallows, some chocolate, graham crackers…”

Stan lit up like the northern lights, eyes full of stars. “S'mores night!”

“Yeah! We can use that crappy little firepit you found!”

“Oh, she would love that!” Stan whisper-shouted, nearly jumping up and down, vibrating with excitement.

Marcus’ eyes glinted. His teasing smile nearly made Stan blush. 

“She's not the only one, huh?”  He poked Stan in the stomach, and Stan nearly squealed as he jumped back out of the way, even almost managing to avenge himself by thrusting the tip of his cane into Marcus’ chest. But Marcus grabbed the cane and yanked it forward, pulling a screech from Stan before he felt Marcus’ strong body pin his arms to his sides in a tight embrace before he fell flat on his face.

“Caught you,” he teased in a sing-songy voice. “Whatcha gonna do now?”

“Oh get off it Silva!” Stan yelled as he halfheartedly shoved to try and get away, secretly wishing he could stay here forever.

Marcus let Stan go, instead grabbing his fiancé's hands in his own and squeezing them tight, looking lovingly into each other's eyes.

"We'll have a nice night tonight,” he reassured. “I know things are horrible right now… but things always get worse before they get better. And hell, they could always be worse.”

Slight flashbacks so kindly reminded Stan of the horrors. Every day away from that hellscape was another better day. 

“Things could definitely be worse.” Stan tossed his arms over Marcus’ shoulders with a cheeky grin. “ Like for example… I could be anywhere else in the world, and then I wouldn’t be with you.”

He pulled Marcus down into a soft kiss, one hand on the back of his head to gently guide him and feeling the warmth of skin against skin, Marcus’ body against his own, supporting him wholly. And in that moment, where the world was just the two of them, he let himself imagine that everything truly was okay. That they weren't being hunted down, that they hadn't just had to flee from their home again, that he wasn't alone in this world. Because he had Chloe, and he had Marcus, and he would always have them forever.

He pulled away just as he heard Chloe shout out an over-exaggerated “Ewwwww! Get a room!” From behind them. Stan rolled his eyes and pushed off of his fiancé, who was now practically giggling.

“You better get going if you want to get back before dark. Meet up in, say, three hours?” 

Marcus gave a goofy grin and started on his way back up the trail with a big thumbs up. “Will do! Be back with yummy treats soon!”

“I'll see you in a bit! I love you!”

“Love you more!”

“Are you done eating each other's faces?” Chloe yelled. “Where's he going? What's happening, what are you planning?”

Then Marcus was gone. That small pang in his heart that came around when he couldn't see those who he loved most returned again. He'd gotten used to it, but it never stung any less.

Stan ignored the questioning as he made his way over to his little sister, who was now balancing with her arms out swinging wildly, stepping around and around from rock to rock of the small ‘fire pit’.

��Hey, Chloe?”

Her gaze shot up to his, sea-foam blue eyes peering into turquoise-green. His breath caught in his throat. The words died on his tongue for a moment as he remembered all that he had done for her. To keep her safe. To try and keep her happy. The times he clutched her in his hold, held her hand, shoved her behind him, shielded her from anything that could harm her in favor of harming himself instead.

And he would keep doing that, every single time. But that didn’t mean he would always succeed, and they needed to prepare for that.

It was finally time, huh?

Chloe tilted her head at him. “Uh… Stan? Why are you looking at me like a serial killer?”

Stan startled. “Ah, right! Sorry. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go train your powers some.”

Chloe’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Really!?” 

She jumped up as high as she could off the rocks and scrambled over to Stan. “I thought you said I couldn’t learn them because they’re dangerous!”

“I never said that!” Stan protested. “We just haven't had the chance to do it because other people want to hurt us over them. That’s why they’re dangerous. Not the power itself. Well, the power itself also can be dangerous... But you need to know it. To defend yourself. In case.”

“...in case?” Her eyebrows creased slightly.

“Uh… well, yeah, in case–”

“Boring! Let's go! I wanna learn!” Chloe interrupted a bit too quickly, grabbing Stan by the wrist and damn near tripping him flat on his face when she started to drag him toward… she didn’t even know, really. To learning powers!

“Augh! Chloe! Stop, I’m gonna trip and die and it'll be your fault!” Stan’s heart jumped into his throat and he struggled to keep his balance.

“Use your magic to fly or something,” she said giddily, though she did let up slightly on the pulling. “It's like a warm-up so you can teach me better! I bet I'll be even better at it than you!”

“Ha! In your dreams you'll be better than me!”

* * * * * * * *

Chloe was unusually quiet on their trek to find a spot to practice. Stan would say something, and then she'd brighten up for a moment, bantering and hollering as usual. But then her jaw would clench, her brows knit together. Staring into the middle distance as they walked, looking at nothing in particular. Thinking. She even ignored various cool-looking rocks and tree formations, never once trying to climb the haphazard structures.

She might be worse off than he originally thought. 

They came upon a clearing in the brush.  Flat ground, no trees or rocks in the way. 

Perfect.

“Alright, Chloe,” Stan started, startling Chloe out of her walk as he took a ready position, feet apart and grounded for a steady base, cane at the ready. No going back now. “Now I've seen you trying to use your powers without permission before and honestly, you did pretty good.”

“Nuh-uh!” She interrupted obnoxiously. 

“Yuh-huh! I've seen it!” Stan bit back without missing a beat. 

“Nuh-uh!!”

“Yuh-HUH!”

“NUH-UH!” she shouted, and Stan barely managed to block when she jumped up and tried to bap him on the top of the head.

“What are you even ‘nuh uh’-ing here?” Stan cried, accompanied by a small screech as he ducked away.

“I thought you were about to say I shouldn't have done that. But then you said something else,” Chloe shrugged.

“So you doubled down?”

A pause.

“Yesssss...”

Stan rolled his eyes. 

“You really shouldn't have used your powers, to be fair…” he considered, tapping his finger on his cane. “Especially since you know what would happen if the wrong people found out. You remember. The– the uh…”

The running.

The raids.

The people in the armored vests.

The guns.

The murder.

Our magic killing just as easily as it lifts a mug into the air.

My disappearance, the experiments I won’t talk about.

Our parents.

Stan cleared his throat. That was all in the past now. 

Chloe’s eyes were downcast, holding her arms close in a self-hug. 

Yeah. 

She remembered. 

“But uh– But I did the same when I was your age, so I can't judge. You did pretty good from… from what I saw. So I want you to show me what you've got so far.” 

Stan lifted himself off the ground in a light float, the bottom of his good leg and his hands glowing a harsh bright blue as they lifted him away from the earth. “Then I can show you how it's really done.”

Chloe’s eyes raised, a tired smile forcing its way to her lips. “Show off.”

“Well, maybe once you learn, you can also get a big head about it.”

Chloe gave a small huff in acknowledgment, her smile slowly falling from her face as she stared blankly at the ground.

Stan carefully lowered to the ground. This wasn't something they could just ignore and hope would go away, was it? 

He crept up to Chloe, the wind rustling the trees overhead creating an almost deafening cacophony in the silent spell that had befallen them like a thick blanket.

“Chlo?...” 

She wouldn't meet his eyes. 

“Talk to me, Squeaks, you’ve been off all day. What’s wrong?”

She took a sharp breath in, face scrunching up, eyes edged red.

“What do you think?” she whispered, hissed, practically. “I hate our powers. This is stupid, they’re stupid, I wish we never had magic. I don't wanna learn, I wanna– I just wa-anna be normal.”

Ah. Yeah.

Stan knew the feeling all too well.

He tried to find something encouraging to say to help lift her back up to normal, to tell her that everything would be okay and that she was perfect the way she was, powers and all. But he found that he really didn't have any words to say to make this better. Nothing that was true anyway. She wasn't wrong.

“... Chloe,” he finally started. “I need you to learn this for me, kid. I need you to be able to… to-to defend yourself in case… In case I can’t.”

Chloe’s body lurched with a held-back sob. “I don’t want to learn! I hate our magic! It’s not fair! I wish we never had powers, then I could still have a normal family. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about you not being able to protect me! I wouldn’t have to protect myself, I wouldn’t have to be strong, I don’t want to be strong! I wish Mom and Dad were still here! I just want my mo-mommy and daddy-y-y!”

She cried freely now, breathing shallow and fast as she tried to catch her breath over the shuddering and the tears, muscles clenched as she hugged herself in some small attempt at security, face scrunched and small and pained as she finally let out all that she’d been holding in the entire trip. For who even knew how long.

He gazed at her with glassy eyes; his sister weeping before him. She’d been through so much. His wonderful, amazing, annoying sister who he’d been through hell to protect. 

She didn't deserve this.

They both didn't deserve this.

He pursed his lips. Tears burned at his eyes now too, threatening to wet his cheeks just as they were doing to Chloe.

He pulled her in close to his chest, heartbeat thrumming against her as he held her tight. A hug she didn’t reciprocate, didn’t need to.

“I know. Me too,” he whispered.

It was unfair. It was incredibly, heart-wrenchingly unfair. Just knowing everyone and everything they ever loved could be so easily ripped away from their desperate grasp as easily as wind blows leaves across the ground. 

“But…”

Stan had screamed and cried about it for many a night and day, mourning the loss of the person he could have been if anything else was different.

“That’s not the hand we’ve been dealt,” Stan murmured into his sister's nappy hair, clutching her even closer as she trembled. “It's unfair, it's so, so unfair. But that's just…”

Screaming.

Crying.

Begging.

Running.

Wishing for something different.

“That's just how it is.”

And that’s why I need you to learn.

She let out a sob into his shoulder. They sat like that for a long while; Listening to the sounds of nature which never ceased around them. The whistle of the wind through trees, the birds chirping all around them. The continuously quieter weeping as the girl in the center of it all tired herself out.

“Those ho-orrible people, Chloe?” he breathed. “They want to capture you. They want to capture me. They did capture me. Tortured me. It’s a… It’s a miracle I escaped, honestly. They captured Mom, Da-ad. And–... and they would do it to you too, if-if given the chance.”

Teary wetness started to soak through the shoulder of Stan’s shirt.

He squeezed her shoulders, breath shaking. “I need you to… I need to know you can defend yourself, okay? A-and as much of a curse as our powers are, they’re strong. So strong, just like you. You can learn how to use them to defend yourself, right? In case I can’t anymore, in case–”

“DON’T SAY THAT!!” Chloe cried out, angry, desperate azure eyes flashing angrily up at her brother as she pushed away from him. “Say that you’ll always be here for me! Always! You can’t get caught again! I need you! Marcus needs you! You’re gonna stay with me and we’re gonna find Mom and Dad and you’re never going anywhere ever again, and neither am I! And neither is Marcus, or Mom, or Dad, and if anyone tries to hurt them again then I'll kill them and then we can all stay together! An’-- an’ I'll get the guys who tortured you too and I'll make them pay.”

Stan felt a melancholy smile overtake his face through the running tears. Maybe not the exact right motivations, wanting to kill anyone who ever tried to hurt them. 

But it was a start. 

He knew he couldn’t promise that he would always be here to protect her. His parents had promised the same thing. And yet…

“Don't worry, Squeaks, I’m–... I’m not going anywhere. Nev-never plan to,” He sniffled. “Also, uh… maybe don't kill them… that wouldn't make you much uh, much better than them, would it?” He winked. “Maybe just maim them a bit.

Chloe nodded slightly, jaw set as she took a deep, shaking breath and a similar smile Stan's started invading her features as well. “Yeah… Jus’-just broken bones. Thr-throw them into the ceiling like you do a little. Pay them back for your knee...”

Stan snickered. “I would love to pay back the person who crapped up my knee…” and he couldn't help the welling pride in his chest as he raised his gaze to look his sister in the eye once more. It almost caused the tears to start pouring all over again.

“And if you were the one to get them, Squeaks? Maybe you let me get in on the action too? God, I would let you lord that over me forever.”

Chloe burst into a little laugh, still marked with the haunting ghosts of sobs. “I would never let you forget it.”

“So… you're on board then?” he asked tentatively. “Gonna learn your powers and defeat the bad guys for me? Marcus is bringing some treats back to camp for when we’re done too, though you’ll get them either way, we all need a bit of a pick me up.”

“Treats?” She looked up at him like an astounded little puppy dog. Stan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah! So you wanna work the magic a bit? Or you just wanna head back and be lazy?

“I…” She was still shaking. “I… I think… magic. But uh, but… You-you can fight your own bad guys. I’ll be too busy floating around you to help you not get your ass kicked.” 

Her eyes widened slightly when Stan raised his eyebrow at her.

“I mean… Butt.”

Stan scoffed. “Yeah, okay potty mouth–”

“Potty mouth? Are you five years old?”

“Am I five years old? You’re the one who can't say ‘ass’.” 

“That's because you're my brother!”

“Well,” Stan theatrically cracked his knuckles and drew some power up through his cane as he grinned at her smugly. “You know any five-year-olds that can do this?”

He swiped with a grand flourish at the nearest tree across the clearing, a full sweep through air in front of him with all the force he could muster up, bathing the now sunset orange-red ring of trees in a blast of eerie aqua blue. A deafening crackle-pop came from deep within the trunk, as if the wood itself was screaming out in protest, in agony, as cracks started to explode outward, shining through with bright blue light bursts. The side of the tree exploded with a thunderous roaring creak, gnarled and deep and sharp and twisting as it showered bark and wood pulp down on the two siblings as the both screamed in what was terrified joy and dove to duck and cover.

Stan immediately realized his error with a playful screech, jumping in front of Chloe and pulling her in close to shield her from the flying wooden shrapnel machine that the tree had so unwittingly become.

Then once again, the clearing was safe, wooden rain finishing its downpour, a few stray splinters tip tapping into the ground. The only sound to be heard now was the breathless laughter of two siblings as they took in the full breadth of what just happened.

Stan had just exploded a tree.

It looked like a cannonball had been shot through it! But surprisingly, it was still standing. Tilting, sure. But standing.

Stan cleared his throat, blinking against the wood dust. Chloe now stared openmouthed and wide-eyed at the mighty tree, a deep eternal gash scarring to the very heart of the wood.

“I uh–...” Stan coughed with a curt laugh. He had to pant to get enough air into his system “I didn’t expect it to explode that much.”

Chloe’s gaze shifted back to her brother, open mouth and all.

“That. Was. AWESOME!!” She cried, jumping up and down like a child on a trampoline. “I mean, you basically killed that tree… but that was so cool! I didn’t know we could explode things!!”

“Well I mean, I didn’t really explode it, I just kinda hit it hard enough that it exploded. Kinda surprised it's still standing.”

“Show me!” Chloe exclaimed, bouncing over to the tree to examine the damage more closely. “Show me show me show me! Show me how to do that, I wanna hit that hard!”

“Careful, you’ll get splinters!” 

“Shoulda thought of that before you exploded a tree!”

Stan hurried after her as fast as he could go without winding himself even more. He leaned extra hard on his cane as he walked, movements just a bit more sluggish. That had taken so much more energy than he had thought it would, even with the cane helping him along and aiding the power. But hey, at least Chloe was excited again. Happy. For now.

That’s all Stan could ever ask for.

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid | @painsandconfusion | @books-are-everything |

@paperprinxe | @tippytappytyping | @chaotic-orphan

[aylinvail]

Tanna Talk: This Week in the Rogue Trader (Video Game) AO3 fandom (March 24- 30 2024)

"Oh, yes, a dance was never just a dance. It was also a display of the soul. It was love, and war, and didn’t they say that all was fair in love and war ?" - Tapestry of Fate, Ch. 34.

Lots of new plot bunnies this week in the trenches. Anyway, this is user aylinvail reporting to you live over vox caster from the Starseeker Bridge.

Cool new fics

Maybe the fic did something new. Maybe it innovated. Maybe it's an entirely new concept we haven't seen yet. A non-comprehensive list.

Two sides of the same Aquila - An AU where the Warrant of Trade is held by two most incompatible individuals in the Koronus Expanse. A series of pivotal moments of their relationship where they need to learn to share the power, space and an Interrogator in order to make it out alive. BOY THAT IS FRESH @vitanithepure.

Eliminate - A fic about Epitaph and Calcazar telling Heinrix to kill you. Told in 500 brilliant bittersweet words. @pycnolite's masterclass in how to keep it short and sweet.

Omega von Valancius - OMG @pallysuune has finally brought us the first A/B/O RT fic. As an omega, Violet von Valancius wasn't fit to be the Rogue Trader, and everyone around her seemed to know it too. But no one was more vocal about it than her so-called-peer. Can her actions ever earn his respect, or will she forever be lesser in his eyes?

The First Engagement - I know, I know, but listen. Have you seen a Lord Captain Heinrix x Interrogator RT yet? No. Fits here. Anyway, if you wanted to see what Heinrix is like as a jackass who "summers" in Janus, here ya go.

Who updated?

Here are the longfics that updated this week.

Starseeker - Heinrix/RT intrigue rewrite of game events with Kunrad-related canon divergence. And a shoujo romance.

gossamer of starlight - RT/Yrliet. Yrliet watches her elantach's dynasty fall apart in slow motion. Non chronological.

Predator & Prey - RT/Marazhai. Aurelia von Valancius has a secret. Marazhai Aezyrraesh has a craving. They're perfectly matched opposites, so long as as they can overcome their differences.

Theatre of Hearts - RT/Nocturne of Oblivion arranged marriage. And from what I hear, getting really cultural difference-flavor of interesting.

Much ado about the Lord Captain - A Comedy of Terrors - RT/Heinrix. A retelling of Rogue Trader with tons of pining. A forest of pine trees. And smut.

Immortalium - RT/Heinrix. NEW! From @cawyden-gaming. The story follows Venria von Valancius on her journey of coming to terms with her past and present.

Iron Maidens - Multiship. An Iron Widow x Rogue Trader crossover.

Omnissiah Forgive Me - RT/Pasqal. Pasqal Haneumann owes his life to the Lord Captain, Kassard. When he joined the Lord Captain's retinue, Pasqal found he had got more than he had bargained for. For the Lord Captain was enough for Pasqal's faith to be shaken to its core.

My Knight So Daring - An Imperial Knight!Heinrix x noble!RogueTrader arranged marriage AU. And from what I hear, getting really hot.

Into Temptation - RT/Marazhai/Heinrix. Former Ministorum Priest now Rogue Trader Cassius Von Valancius must contend with his heretical desires for Marazhai. Matters become even more complicated as his feelings for Heinrix Van Calox deepen.

Edge of Daybreak Unbroken - RT/Heinrix. Heretic Rogue Trader gets brought back to the start of the game. Time travel shenanigans ensue.

Once we were - RT/Heinrix. A story following the events of the game, in which Imogene von Valancius allied her dynasty with Xavier Calcazar and brought peace and prosperity to the Koronus Expanse. But neither last long, and the line between hero and heretic is always blurred.

Domino Effect - Multi. Betrayal is terrible. It never comes from one's foes. But instead from those closest. It comes from a place of safety. Of love.

Addendums

they go here. for in case there are late night updates. im out of spoons bros.

[setsugekka]

『atarashī 』 ; 07

❝ injudicious ❞ | mlist  ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [6k wc] ch cws: smut, a lot of lying, public sex, jealousy, becoming aware of the potential consequences of our actions, bff!seonghwa does not deserve this shit!

A month comes and goes in a flash, with no help from the husband meant to aid in putting the pieces of your marriage back together.

Yeosang's job ramps up again. Normal, small breaks that allow for him to make time to come home even briefly now forgone entirely and made to jet set from old work sites to the new without so much as a breath of air inside of your marital home. It makes you sad, you miss him. Dinner for one is so miserable in an empty home made much too large to accommodate only one.

A problem that's made easy to forget, however, by the smoothing of Hongjoong's soft palms across your skin, lips that insist and devour you each and every time. How simple it is to moan his name and forget the others.

When you're not with Hongjoong, you want to be, but you want to go off of him too. A unique push and pull of complicated feelings; when you're away from him the thoughts creep back in, about how you shouldn't be doing this, about how you have to stop. 

But all it takes to quell that is one perfectly landed touch from the man in question, and then you're unraveling for him all over again, like every time before.

The sex would be one thing, if that was always how it remained. Over time, nights are spent in bed talking about the future, about the past—about a different life and a different world if things were just that. Hongjoong often idly drawing shapes into your bare flesh as you reminisce about your family, when they were alive, when Aurelia was busy and booming and not meant to be your responsibility entirely.

His lips ghost over your shoulder from behind as he listens to you speak about all of the aspirations you used to have. Don't have any longer. Can't have now.

"Why don't you still paint?" he asks one night, lights of his apartment dim and the gentle flicker of the television doing the majority of the work to illuminate the space. "You know all the right people, you could really make something of it. Of yourself."

You shrug slightly. "Gave it up a long time ago."

"For him?"

Turning just a bit, you glance back at Hongjoong from over your shoulder. Watch him press a light kiss to your shoulder again, pleading silently to not have to answer that question out loud.

So, you don't.

"I'm obsessed with you," Hongjoong whispers into you, much later in the evening and firmly settled between your legs. Just where you want him. "Don't think I could ever go off of you."

Not sure I could ever go off of you, either.

"We shouldn't be here."

Your words are hushed, under your breath and only meant for the ears that reside just beside you. A hand slips between your thighs to grab at the skin there—no other point to it besides simply reminding you that he is there.

As if you could forget.

Numerous patrons walk by your booth and you watch each and every one of them carefully, eyes lingering as if anticipating the proverbial hammer to drop with the next one that intends on making their way by. The truth is that nobody is paying attention to you—not especially, at least—and it's only when one of Hongjoong's ill-timed touches jars a sound from you that you may catch the glance of another who does not know either of you, nor has any intention of doing so.

It's something like horny teenagers who can't keep their hands to themselves; no private place to feel the skin of the other beneath their fingers and thus, public places will have to do.

Except you very much have private places to go to, and this idea being distinctly Hongjoong's for one reason or another.

"Relax," he says as you clasp a hand around his wrist and push his hand out from under your skirt. "No one is paying attention to us. No one cares."

"Still." Hongjoong nuzzles his face into your neck immediately thereafter, cuts the words off that had only just been in your throat. The breath of him tickles, and you shrink down with a smile to remove the sensitive skin of your neck from the availability of his mouth. "We're not far from the Akademiya. I have colleagues that could come here."

"Ooh," Hongjoong chides, sarcastic. "What if they see us."

Finally he settles in beside you, hands to himself but still mostly turned towards you. Boxing you in, an arm draped up over the back of the booth that the both of you sit in.

It feels too open, too on display for you, however. You have so much more to lose from being spotted here with him, like this, Hongjoong has nothing. You're not familiar with the reprimanding that a student of the Akademiya faces as a result of fraternizing with one of the staff—much less whatever grouping of people you happen to fall under—but you can't imagine it's anything close to the scrutiny that you threaten to find.

"Why did you want to come out here?"

Hongjoong smiles slightly, tongues over his teeth like he finds the question to be testing him in some way. A fight looming, but not really, not handled any differently than anything else the two of you engage in.

He leans in again, face close to yours and lips just beside your ear. "Can't I want to take you out?"

"Are we dating now?" you ask, equally sarcastic as him before. "I'm married, you know."

"So I've heard." Hongjoong's voice drops to something deeper, more enticing. The fact of the matter doesn't bother him, never has, though it's not something that you appreciate being brought up all that frequently if you're honest. For obvious reasons.

"So, are you going to get up and go home to your husband then? Or are you going to finish your drink and come home with me so I can put my hands on every inch of your body?"

Lips find your neck, and you allow yourself to melt into the feeling for a brief enough moment that you lose sight of your surroundings. Less aware, for a second pretending that what it is that you're doing and who you are doing it with is acceptable, and reveling just a bit in the ability to enjoy it outside of the confines of a closed bedroom door.

You don't wish to be with Hongjoong, nor do you wish to leave your husband. You believe that he in turn has no desire to have you for himself either. It's complicated in many ways, but relatively simple in that: you're not leaving Yeosang, nor does Hongjoong wish for you to.

But you've not yet reached a place where you can quit him, either.

Fingertips on your skin that feel just as hot to the touch as they did the first time, drunk on how dizzying it is to be wanted like this by another person. To not have been grown tired of, to still be new and exciting to someone. 

When Hongjoong's hand comes up to your face—turns your head to face his and with such ease brings the reluctance to engage with him in a public place comes crashing down with the firm press of his lips into yours—you forget everything else around you. The lounge goes quiet, and all of the other people in the room disappear.

Perhaps only to you, however; and your presence to others? Still very much seen.

Rushing down the sidewalk on a windy Saturday afternoon, you turn to glance at your surroundings for a brief moment—the sound of a car’s alarm firing off just within close proximity of you—attempting to gain your bearings once again in this side of the greater city area just outside of the Akademiya lines.

Walls of apartment buildings and other such shopping and eating sectioned off into unspoken districts around these parts; the hipster parts filled with thrift shops and aesthetically run down cafes, the luxury parts often frequented by the students whose parents have paid their whole way, the environmental interest types—none too fond of the other groups and their willingness to partake in leathers and furs.

There are offshoots of each that settle within, and Hongjoong sits somewhere on the axis of hipster-luxury. A man with money, though you're not entirely sure about the how or why of that. Maybe you should ask. You don't know if you're allowed to ask.

Hongjoong spends much of your time together asking about you, finding out about you, enthralled by everything it is that comes together and creates you. Sometimes it even feels as if he knows just a tiny bit more than he lets on, but asks anyway—questions that couldn't possibly come from nowhere, needing some form of place to manifest from. A starting point.

Not that it matters to you, not that any of that matters to you now.

With your bag clutched to your side, you stop in front of the apartment building that you've grown so accustomed to by this point. The shoddy door in the front that's seen its fair share of graffiti art over the years and one of the six window panels at the front broken—you take a step forward to make your entrance.

"Hey!"

But your heart immediately jumps into your throat at the sound. You know the voice, know the word coming from that voice so well that it's etched into your memory for the rest of your life. Absolutely no way you could be mistaken, and so instead you put all of your effort into calming your nerves enough to be able to handle what it is that is soon to come, because there's no getting out of it. This is your reality now.

You turn, smile a big grin and feign shock. A different kind of shock than the one that you're actually experiencing; happiness, surprise, delight. Not horror, terror, displeasure.

Seonghwa is with someone, a friend of his you've met a couple of times out on the town. Mingi. Another tall guy, he seems to like collecting them in his off time. They're both dressed casually so not with any particular sort of business in mind, and instead of just casually passing by, your best friend settles in close—slings an arm over your shoulders and around your neck—pulls you in close like he's displaying friendship, not actually partaking in it.

"Look who we found," he says, something sly about his voice but you brush it off as you projecting your own misdoings and the knowledge of that onto him. Guilty people always think everyone else is up to no good too. "What are you doing on this side of town?"

"I could ask the same of you," you reply, groaning into the grip still. Your eyes calmly fall to the other guy. "Hey Mingi, long time."

"Nice seeing you, as always."

"We were just on our way to grab something to drink," Seonghwa says, holding you firmer in his grasp. "You should come with us since we've already caught you out here."

He finally lets you loose then and you stumble for a second before straightening up and flattening your coat with your palms. You flash him a disgruntled look which he ignores in favor of a happy smile, but awaits your reply to the offer all the same.

"Ah, I can't, I have somewhere I have to be—"

"Somewhere that can't wait twenty minutes while we sit down for a drink?"

It's only now that Seonghwa's pleasant and playful disposition falls away, though you're not entirely sure if anyone else would be able to discern the fact other than you. A man so good at playing the fence when it comes to this sort of delivery, his eyes sit onto you as if expectant, waiting for you to not only make a decision, but the correct decision.

He's not really asking you to come with them, he's informing you that you are, and part of that is because deep down he has a sneaking suspicion that he has caught you in the act of being up to no good.

And so, you have to relent.

"Yeah, it can wait twenty minutes," you finally say, glancing at Mingi again. "But I want you to know it's because I adore your lovely friend here, and it has nothing to do with a desire to spend time around you."

Seonghwa smiles, slow and calculated. "It's noted."

You send the message along to Hongjoong shortly after you are intercepted by the other two men. The cafe that you are taken to is only a stone's throw away from his apartment building anyway, thus, it's not the end of the world that you have to put off the debauchery that is meant to take place up a few flights of stairs. 

A part of you expects some kind of snappy, displeased response from your lover as a result of the mishap, but instead, he says nothing in reply.

Probably busy working, not a big deal. The three of you settle into a small table in the corner by the window and listen carefully to Mingi explain about how he actually really likes this side of town, despite the reputation that it has. Frankly, you can see the appeal, but you've always been something of the art-adjacent kind anyway.

Seonghwa slips away to the counter when your drinks are ready, and the bell to the front door rings only a second later. With your back turned towards the barista and as a result—the action—you aren't able to catch much of the goings on behind you, but what you can see Mingi's eyes lingering on someone in a way that strongly makes you believe it is not Seonghwa.

"God, he is beautiful."

You reel a little bit, because your thoughts immediately go to Seonghwa still. He's the only guy you know that's behind you, so who else could the man be referring to, and your confused and slightly disgusted visage must tell the tale rather vividly, because Mingi nods in an effort to get you to look over your other shoulder. You do, slowly, and you might be able to find the humor in the whole thing if the circumstances were just a little bit different.

"If they got more guys like him living around these parts then I'm signing a new lease today."

Standing slightly hunched over the counter—leather jacket and brown slicked back hair—you watch Hongjoong greet the barista and most probably order something, you wouldn't know, because you feel a little bit too dizzy to be focusing on the details all that much.

Seonghwa sits back at the table then, all three drinks in hand. Hongjoong looks around the place, then glances down towards you for just a second as he brings himself off of the bar and begins to make his way towards the back of the establishment.

"They didn't really have any of those little sweet drinks you like so—"

"I'm gonna run to the restroom," you say, cutting Seonghwa off and almost with a little bit too much urgency to your tone. He stops the sentence, slowly looks to you as you're already pulling yourself up from your seat. "Been out all day, haven't had a chance to go."

Neither he nor Mingi have a chance to respond before you're off and down the very same walkway.

The loud bang of the bathroom stall door hitting the wall is almost so much so that you worry it will raise suspicion outside, but can't be bothered with it enough to halt Hongjoong's mouth on your neck and hands hurriedly digging at the button sitting at the front of your jeans. He presses you against the wall, shuts and locks the door behind the two of you as if it'll make any sort of difference should anyone find their way inside of the main door, and has your pants pulled down around your thighs without giving you even a second of time to protest. As if you would.

Hongjoong turns you around, face towards the cold wall and hands up against it—fingers of one hand prying your disjointed panties away and to the side, the other fisting himself out of his own jeans. It's so quick, so easy, so intoxicating. Like everything else is about being with him.

"We could get caught," you say, a groan taking your voice at the feeling of him sliding into you with a couple of quick, shallow drives. 

When he settles into you fully buried, snaps his hips forward a few more times for good measure, the concern dies out in your throat and between your legs.

"And what if we do?"

Hongjoong asks the question lazily, like he knows that you don't have an answer for it, don't care. That must be true, because the thought of it falls away entirely to instead be fully encompassed by the feeling of him dragging inside of you with quick succession. One hand of his digs into your hips, pulling you back against him and holding your body firm in place to take him, the other sliding up to cover your mouth and the subsequent whimpers and moans that are already fast to fall from it.

"Sorry," you say, settling back into your seat at the table. "Did I miss anything?"

"We were starting to wonder if you fell in," Mingi jokes.

You laugh at the comment, body still trembling lightly from the goings on in the bathroom only moments before. A bit after the fact, you catch Mingi's eyes lingering on someone who makes their way passing along behind you, and you already know precisely who it is.

Seonghwa's eyes are set solely on you, however.

"God," the other says, still watching Hongjoong move behind you. "I might do utterly ridiculous things just to have a shot at that guy."

You know, you don't need to look behind you to figure it out, but you do so anyways to play along—glancing over your shoulder to find Hongjoong perched at the counter again and chewing on a toothpick like he's in some old western film. He must be waiting for a drink or something—you didn't really have a chance to ask.

"Yeah, I suppose I can see the appeal."

Laughable.

"You're both married," Seonghwa reminds. Firmly, too. Mingi shrugs, rolls his eyes like this other guy is just no fun at all.

"If things were different. Isn't your husband gone all of the time? You've never thought about it? Met anyone in passing that had you thinking maybe just once?"

That causes you to glance towards Seonghwa more than the other man, and he is frowning just as expected. This is meant to be a fun, light outing. It might be worth it to take some of the heat off of Mingi and partake in a little joking on the matter yourself. Besides, can Seonghwa even blame you? After everything that you've been through with Yeosang as of lately? Everything that he knows?

So, you take a slow sip of your drink finally, chuckle at the end of it before you go to speak. "I mean...I guess I have. The whole lonely housewife trope comes from somewhere after all, doesn't it?"

Mingi laughs, Seonghwa doesn't.

"Sometimes you think about it like...it's something that I could do just for me, that no one else needs to know about. Like a spin class, or tennis."

"No, having an affair is nothing like taking a spin class, or tennis." Seonghwa's looking fully at you now, and none pleased at all by the words that you are saying.

There's no humor in this to him, and you can't help but wonder why that is. Regardless, his judgment sits heavy in your chest and results in the swallowing down of any further comedy you might have expelled on the matter. Mingi catches the hint as well—eyes meeting your briefly to share a moment of feeling reprimanded before settling once again in silence and forgoing the conversation topic altogether.

"Someone always gets hurt," Seonghwa adds, a few beats of silence after the rest of the conversation has quieted down. "Everyone always thinks they have it under control, that it will come and go and it'll just be some memory that you jot down in your journal a few years down the line like it's a scene in a movie that you always wanted to live out but never could."

Someone always gets hurt.

You hear the door bell ring again, but you can't turn to check if it's Hongjoong making his exit or another random patron entering. The air is so thick with tension now, and with the words sitting so sternly at the front of you mind, you think of the man you are meant to see straight away after this excursion just that much more.

Can I go off of him? Will it ever be that simple?

The way that Hongjoong touches you, tends to you, hears you and makes you feel whole in a way that Yeosang doesn't, can't right now. You think about it with yourself in regards to the sex—what he has to offer you in the physical—but if you allow yourself to be just a little bit more honest with yourself, is that true? Is that the whole story about the affair that you're so willingly carrying out with this student of the Akademiya?

You like Hongjoong because he is addicted to you, obsessed with you in every way that makes you who and what you are. He can never get enough of you, probably couldn't go off of you if he tried.

And maybe you've let your obsession with him go just a bit too far, too. A need to be with him, to feel him, to bask in the way that he desires you so openly and endlessly. A delusional pursuit to think yourself any better off, or with any upper hand in comparison.

Mingi changes the subject, starts talking about a couple of the shops that he wants to stop into while they're on this side of town.

You nod along as if you're there, but really, you're already three floors up and locking the door of apartment 3B.

A little more than an hour after your outing with Seonghwa and Mingi, you find yourself right back in the very place you very much expected yourself to be.

This time doesn't feel as good, however.

Sitting at the edge of Hongjoong's bed, you watch him as he idly begins to disrobe in front of you; jacket first, then the lazy unbuckling of the belt that sits looped around his pants. All the while, his eyes remain on you, but you have a hard time meeting them with your own on account of the prior conversation that still weighs heavily on your mind.

Seonghwa's words sitting razor sharp and ringing in your ears.

There's a part of you that wants nothing more than for there to be no more of this. No more affair, no more Hongjoong in your life in the way that he has maneuvered. To say that it's over, be able to proudly and confidently say the words just as you have so many times before—always dying out with the simplest of touches from him, or the enticing prospect of what else you could be missing should you manage to do so.

God, you need him so badly though. How have you let it come down to this?

The excitement of anticipation paired with the already knowing; whether it's inside of this very apartment and in between these very sheets or across the street in the bathroom of a restaurant while your friends sit and wait none the wiser. Thoughts that make it feel almost impossible to ever put an end to this.

"You know," you finally say, voice quiet and even slightly humored in tone. Little force behind it at all. "We could end this now and nobody would get hurt. Go back to the way things were before we ever started this at all. Pretend this never happened."

Your eyes raise to find his, checking to see his response. An eyebrow raises on his face, small perk of the corner of his lips as he slips his shirt up and over his head and makes his way across the bedroom towards you.

"If we ended this now," he says, falling to the floor between your knees and hands finding the button of your jeans for the second time today. "Then I would get hurt."

Someone always gets hurt.

But the carefree admission is somewhat of a shock to you. Never has there ever been anything that could be taken as a romantic involvement between the two of you. It's always just sex—and sure, there is time spent outside of that—the before and after the fact where no one is in any particular hurry to escape the arms of the other.

Perhaps you have not been entirely honest with yourself in regards to what that entails to you either.

Hongjoong busies himself working your pants down your legs and as he does, you allow for your head to drop back idly to stare at the water-stained ceiling above.

"Is there no way that this comes to an end with no casualties to show for it?"

He chuckles under his breath, coming back up to smooth his palms under your blouse and pull the light fabric of that up and over your head. Stilling just in front of your face after discarding it to the floor, Hongjoong sits only inches away from your mouth—looks down at your lips briefly before finding your eyes again with the same intensity that he always seems to harbor for you.

"Not necessarily. There's a chance that we'll grow tired of each other naturally. The joys of a new experience must wear off eventually, after all. Nothing feels exciting and unexplored forever—" he quiets, kisses you deeply, passionately in the very way that always has you melting into him. Giving into him. "Not even us."

Mouth trailing down against your neck and nipping the skin carefully between his teeth, fingers make their way to nestle between your legs, so perfectly firm in just the way that he knows you like to be touched. Your eyes roll to the back of your head before closing, reveling in it all over again, and he doesn't even need to push you back against the mattress to have you finding yourself there on your own all the same.

Pants discarded at the edge of the bed, Hongjoong climbs up slowly to settle between your legs, hand fitted just where it had been before. Two fingers pressed in that have you groaning against the lips that have already made their way to kiss and bite at yours.

"I want nothing more—" you start, forced to stop by the pointed curl of his fingers inside of you in just the right way. Gasping out and digging fingernails into the bare flesh of his shoulders and back from where you lie beneath him. "Than to get tired of you. To go off of you entirely."

Hongjoong kisses you again, this time more urgency behind it, nearly sucking the air from your lungs and like it may very well be the last time. The thought of even just that awakens an ache in your chest that you've not ever wanted to grant any level of consideration to: that this is more than what it was ever intended to be.

Because once that happens, all bets are off. 

"You're free to go any time," Hongjoong says in a whisper against your mouth, though the appropriately timed press of his hips up against your own and the subsequent glide of himself inside of you once more serves as evidence enough that you've not yet managed to find a place where that's a realistic possibility. "No one is keeping you here against your will. If you don't want to see me anymore, you don't have to."

Smooth, easy drives into you—slower, more time taken in between each one that has your head swimming perhaps even more than any of the other times before. You dig your fingers into his skin like there's a chance if you don't hold onto him tightly, he might not remain there with you at all.

And you simply cannot take the chance of that happening any longer.

Hongjoong's face settles into the crook of your neck, hot breath against the shell of your ear as you curve your back up and chest against his. The friction feels white hot, one of his hands tightly gripped at your hip and the other moved upward to dig into your hair.

It feels different this time, because it feels like he's making love to you instead of fucking you.

In the aftermath of your lovemaking, Hongjoong sits against the headboard of his bed with phone in hand and a handful of sketches strewn out along the sheets. Standing in the hall of his apartment that combines the bedroom and his bathroom, you remain there and watch him in silence as he appears to once again—like so many other times before—be lost in the work that will most likely get him so far. So long as he is able to get that one chance.

He deserves it.

"I heard the class that you did that garment for is doing the first showing next week," you say, smile painted across your lips as you lean against the warped wood. "Are you pleased with the outcome?"

Hongjoong looks over at you, eyes trailing your bare legs that end only at the hem of your barely oversized shirt in a way that implies you may not be walking out of here without going another round in bed with him. Not that you mind. Eventually he stops, however, and looks towards you with full attention on the subject at hand.

"Yeah, I did a fitting with her a couple of days ago and it looked good. Took some pictures and what have you but I'll probably stop by the day of to make sure everything goes according to plan and there aren't any huge malfunctions that will need my tender love and care to deal with."

"Oh," you say aloud, and before you're able to pull it back. You know this feeling well, though not in relation to him, and not having been felt in such a long time either. Jealousy. Nasty, ugly, and with no such place that it belongs here at all. So, you make the conscious decision to try to reel it back. Be mature about this, because what other option do you have? "Good. That's good then."

Ever perceptive, Hongjoong picks up on the tonality of that oh, and much to your displeasure. "What's that? Are you jealous? Weren't you just trying to end things with me only an hour ago and now you're livid at the thought of me putting my hands on another woman?"

His voice is calm, almost playful—as if amused by the fact of the matter at hand. You wish you felt much of the same. Instead, you cross the room and cozy yourself up in bed with him, head and hand against his chest to listen to his heartbeat and feel the warmth of his skin beneath you.

Because none of that matters—this is here, and now. This is what matters.

"It's not like that," you say at first, though perhaps realizing the absurdity of the lie, you pull back on it only slightly. "Well, it's a little bit like that, I guess."

"You're married, you know."

You have no room to be feeling any kind of way about this right now.

"I do know."

Hongjoong changes positions slightly then, curls himself up and in a way that he can gaze down at you as your head slides down to rest in his lap. Fingers toying at your ear, lightly tracing the outer edge in such a way that makes you shiver.

"So then what if I were?" he asks, curious.

"I don't know," is all you can muster up at a moment’s notice, but more than anything else, you want to end the conversation as quickly as possible. You pull up and away from him, clear your throat and look down at the side of the bed for your purse which is seemingly nowhere to be found. "Do we have to talk about that?"

He smiles, softly replies. "No, we don't."

The thought of losing him, seeing him in the arms or hands of another person makes you anxious, sick to your stomach almost. A sort of fight or flight response in your body that kicks up without a moment’s notice. There's little to nothing you can do to avoid such a thing ever happening, and even still, what is your plan? To engage in this affair forever? Unrealistic. To be the one with the upper hand someday who gets to call it off when it finally suits you and you alone? Similarly so.

Palms flattening over your face, you rub harshly and sigh—hopes of expelling all of these thoughts that plague you and the negative feelings that sit festering along with them.

How ill it makes one, the obsessive need to be the favorite.

"I was thinking," you say suddenly, though Hongjoong's expression changes little and remains calm all throughout the turbulence of your emotions thus far. "About the contacts list that I have for you. Give me a couple of days and I can probably have it cleaned up and ready to go out for you. I can even make some calls in your stead to put in a good word ahead of time if that would help."

A small, slow curl of his lips, Hongjoong's head cocks to the side just as calmly before leaning forward and closing the distance between the two of you. One hand cupping at the curve of your jaw, he bothers little with pulling you towards him and instead only leans forward to push you back against the mattress once again—kisses you unrushed and deliberate in his motions, just like all of the other times.

One knee hiked up just enough for him to fit himself between, Hongjoong reaches over to the nightstand just beside you, flicks the switch so that the room dims just a tad bit further, and then all over again and just as you had wanted; all of the attention is on you once more.

"What do you do on the days that we don't meet?"

A fascinating inquiry, Hongjoong drops the whisper of words into your mouth with a gentle simplicity as he once again carves out space for himself inside of your body. This question is easy though, because you think of it with a nightmarish frequency.

Your nails dig into his back once again, feeling the divots made from the previous encounter still holding their mark there. A roll of his hips and you're whimpering under your breath, bitten back slightly, even though you revel in the feeling of having won.

"Hate myself."

a/n: we gotta get seonghwa out of there besties...also, kinda feeling like he knows but doesn't know know 🤨 like he knows something is up but can't put his finger on it. ALSO! her getting jealous about hongjoong with another girl 😭😭🤭🤭🤣🤣🙄 when the obsession is making you ILL AND CWAYZEE.

if you got thoughts hit me up in the ask box let's discuss hehe 💗 hope you enjoyed!

[geniemillies]

Yearning For Spring | Ch. 6 | Tamlin x Oc

— Chapter 6 - A Glimse of Living

A/n: Very very long chappy.. I enjoyed writing Autumn and Summer, favourite courts right next to Spring 😔🫶

<<Ch.1 <<Ch.5 ___ Ch.7>>

     — —

I often feed a suggestion to the King, to send me back to Prythian to see to Amarantha's reign. And when he'd ask me why I'm so insistent on going I'd answer with; “I rather like tormenting her~” Which is no lie and definitely no secret. The entirety of the Father's court knows well mine and Amarantha's animosity towards each other. And it isn't just me. I cannot think of a single person in court who likes her. She is feared by many and loved by none save for the creatures that manage to find it in themselves to find her appealing.

Four decades have passed since the dawn of her reign and when I thought all hope was lost, Father called me into the throne room and suddenly approved of my next visit to Prythian. The Suriel fettered beneath the palace was yet again the source of his ire, but it seems to have provided some sort of answer to which my father was being deliberately vague when giving his commands. He needs me to seek out the missing pieces of the Cauldron after I see Amarantha. And I couldn't have been more excited when he gave me the task. In secret, of course. I did not get to see past Under the Mountain last time.. I'm hoping this time will be different.

Besides that visit, I haven't left Hybern since that time in Spring. More often than not, these golden cuffs around my wrists constantly itched, tempting me to scratch the skin raw.. I cannot even touch the beach waters without the cuffs tugging me back. It is a cage, this homeland of mine. And while I want to visit Prythian because I want to berate Amarantha and know about how Tamlin is doing I just want to see the sky and breathe the fresh air.

“May I come with?” Velaria asks as she follows me through the halls of the Lighthouse.

“The ring only allows leave for one body. I'm afraid I cannot take you with me.. Father will know if those bound to him leave and enter without the gem.”

Velaria frowns and before she speaks, some of the children playing caught sight of me and rushed towards my direction. “Mother!” They all called out as they came to me. Recent children who quickly became infected with calling me their mother. Not that I mind.

They told me of their day and wished for me to play with them. But I had places to be so I promised to spend time with them when I returned. I went to a drawing room where children, mostly the children I've rescued from Prythian, were huddled in one place. Each child hails from a different Court, with Marilla and Celyn originating from Winter, and Aurelia, Clem, and Rory from Autumn. Soleil and Tesni are from Summer, while Ahaan and Kiran belongs to the Dawn Court. And then there's the only child from Day, the youngest of Prythian children, Uri. 

Save for Uri, they all still call me Niamh or Miss Niamh. Understandable as they are not my children like Hybernian children were. They have their own mothers and fathers waiting for them most likely.

The Lighthouse has come to life since I brought the Prythian children here. Each room within the building has been adorned with their vibrant gifts and decorations, inspired by the diverse cultures and customs of their respective Courts. 

Because of them, our home now hosts various joyful celebrations like Summer and Winter Solstice where we decorate the house, dance and exchange gifts. Those are my personal favorites.. But we also celebrate All Souls Day, a custom from Autumn where people make offerings to shrines of the deceased in the forest. But we do not have a forest of shrines so we just.. create our own and set them out at the courtyard, in remembrance of loved ones who perished during Amarantha's rule. Because the majority, if not all the children, have endured losses during her reign. 

We also have Fete in the Clouds, a cheerful celebration from the Dawn Court where peregryns, hold festivities high in the air. While I possess wings like peregryns, none of the other children have the blessing of flight except for Kiran, a peregryn, and Tesni, a mothkin. So to make sure he celebrates and shares his custom with the house, I cast imaginative spells to create the illusion of us lounging on the clouds above the courtyard. A.. cute attempt to recreate the actual thing but we have fun. 

Another one is the Seeker's Gauntlet, a triennial tournament held in the Day Court where scholars from various esteemed institutions compete in a grand stadium, I've been told. During this time, we make up our own challenges and divide the house in teams until the smartest ones face each other in the final rounds. I, unfortunately.. have been kicked out of the games because the children do not trust me with my daemati powers. No matter, I'm content as the sole judge and arbiter. Velaria gets particularly competitive during the games. Seeing her losing to a bunch of children way younger than her is.. funny.

I happily welcome all festivities. It isn't the same as celebrating the actual thing, but it is the most I can do for them. I want the Prythian children to cling on to cherished memories of their homes even when distance separates them. They deserve to feel a sense of belonging and connection to their roots, to celebrate their heritage and keep their cultures alive, no matter where they may be. And.. it's a good thing for the children of Hybern too. And maybe for me.. After all, Hybernians deserve to experience such celebrations, given the lack of them within our own lands.

I should probably refrain from calling them children now as they’re all grown. It has been nearly fifty years since I’ve brought them here. Marilla is a great sister to everyone in the house, she even teaches the younger children with their writing and reading. Cousin to her is Celyn, the quieter one of the two. But in time, she grew to love the place and the other kids. She also makes the best puddings that not even I could replicate her cooking.. Aurelia is the more spirited one of the bunch, always cheering people up, always inspiring mischief, as expected from a faun. Soleil, a selkie, likes to join her in her little pranks. We have a pond now because of her as she needs to be in water every once in a while. Tesni is our sweet little mothkin, which makes her a target to group cuddles because of her furry scales. She has woven me many silk dresses ever since I’ve asked her for one. Kiran is the most well-mannered, often being the voice of reason along with Marilla. Then there is Ahaan who is a child of the arts, I lost count of the many paintings and ceramics he’s made for me. My room and study are so full of them that I'm beginning to run out of space. Always with him is Clem, a sweet child with a penchant for learning, forever curious about the Sidhe where I’ve not yet taken any of them.

Uri, the youngest, is the quietest one, always making gadgets with whatever she finds. Many of my kitchen supplies have been altered to work better because of her. Uri is the only one of them who has developed a habit of calling me mother. I’ve been told that her parents were long gone even before Amarantha took over. During the first months of their stay in Hybern, she had managed to run past the wards and nearly got herself killed if I hadn’t caught up to her. She’s a sensitive child, a bit jumpy and a victim to night terrors, more so than the others.. She may be quiet but she always seeks comfort with the other Prythian children, clinging to Aurelia’s arm or hiding behind Ahaan’s wings. Despite being the youngest, Uri’s intelligence is unwavering, earning her an undefeated record in our version of the Seeker's Gauntlet. It comes as no surprise from a child of Day.

Then there is Rory, a year younger than Marilla but the eldest of the Autumn-born, hails from nobility. Of all the children, he was the most hesitant to call the Lighthouse home. Of course, he warmed up to the place and the other children eventually but he still keeps to himself most of the time. Always reading in his lonesome and observing the fun rather than participating. But I could tell that.. it is just his nature. I imagine he was raised to look down on the lesser fae which.. must’ve been a strange thing to accept for him, considering most of the children in the Lighthouse are.. lesser fae. I mislike that term. Lesser. All my children are the same, no matter their upbringing or the lands they hail from.

While he may not overtly acknowledge it, I know Rory has developed a softer sentiment towards the others. He does not like admitting a lot of things, but he is not good at hiding them either. Not from me. But of course, there is the occasional fight here and there between him and the older children of the house. Squabble between boys that are ended by me all too quickly.

Nowadays, Clem, Rory, Kiran and Soleil are often outside, past the Lighthouse grounds but still within the wards, being trained to fight by Arin after they begged me to. Arin is one of the elder children of the Lighthouse that don't live here anymore. But he still frequently visits before returning back underground, to the Sidhe, where he's one of my three Lieutenants tending to the rebellion.

Many of my older children join him at the Sidhe. My brave children who.. wish to fight for me for a better tomorrow. Now some children of Prythian wish to join them. Velaria may or may not have let some of my Father's plans slip from her loose mouth, and the elder children have grown close to them that they tell the horrors of my Father's experiments on me. Because they do know. Children are not stupid. The Lighthouse is the one place where I could momentarily let go of my gloves. They see my blackened arms and they often.. wonder. So now some of them wish to fight and while their training is not serious… I can see their determination, fueled by a desire for vengeance against Amarantha. But there is a greater threat than her. And I'm not about to risk these children in an upcoming war when they have parents still waiting for them back in Prythian. 

They flock around me now, asking: “Can you see if my parents are still alive? Can you see if my siblings still live under the dungeons? Can you see if my High Lord still lives? Can you see if my Court has not been set to cinders? Can you kill Amarantha this time?” All questions overlap each other.

“Settle down. All of you..” I shook my head and willed them to call down. All of them ask for me to check on the wellbeing of their families while others ask for items to be brought back to them, items from their courts they hold dear. When one proposed the idea, everyone agreed and brought forth a scroll to write the things they wish for. Impatiently, they sit there on the floor, fighting for which one got to put on their requests first.

I look at Velaria. “And you? Anything you wish for?”

She put a hand on her hip. “I'd rather come with you.”

“I told you..”

“But I'm not bound to the King. I do not wear golden cuffs, I can leave without him knowing. Please.. Take me with you. I want to see Rhys.. If only for a moment.”

I look away to the children before looking back at her. “Alright. But I need to hide you. Into what.. is the question. Just until I'm done with my visit in the Middle.”

“You could glamour me. Alter my appearance as you've had before when you brought me to the palace.”

“I can't. Amarantha will suspect my relation to you and why I've brought you. I don’t just bring anyone, she knows it. I cannot risk it. And chances are, if you do see your brother while glamoured, he would suspect you're familiar to him..”

Velaria looked down. “The silver ravens..” 

“The what..?” 

“You could turn your feathers into full creatures, could you not?” 

“Yes?”

“Could you turn me into an animal?”

“I am flattered you think I could shapeshift much less shift someone else into an animal.”

“But you could turn your feathers into crows?”

“Yes but my feathers are inanimate. That magic has always been a part of me. Seraphim magic. And the creatures I create are an extension of myself. And do not even suggest using dark magic on you.” I sighed. “I only know curses and hexes that serve to discipline those who would disobey in court.” I trailed off and looked at her, a pout growing on her lips.

“Unless..” I sighed. “Do you really want to go?”

Velaria nods. “Really.”

“There is a curse I learned many years ago in my youth. Magic that will curse someone and turn them into an animal for life. But.. after years of studying, I've learned to undo many curses. And since the hex is a simple enough trick, I could very well undo it.”

She claps happily, tapping her chest excitedly. “Great. Do it. Curse me. But undo it after!” Velaria says a little too enthusiastically. Many would run when a witch suggest to bewitch them. Velaria seems to jump at every opportunity for me to show her weird spells, though. She is a strange one. 

“Alright.” I breathed. “What animal?”

“What?”

“What animal would you want to turn into?”

     — —

The Attor welcomes me again to the dreadful Under The Mountain and with its presence, the creature around my neck hissed. Amarantha greets me in her empty throne room and we exchange backhanded jabs at one another. The usual. It is clear that my visit is unwelcome, the place is once more void of any soul save for the Attor who keeps breathing down my neck. Amarantha thought to give me a tour around her little hive and wherever we went, dread and anguish followed.

This time she shows me the entirety of her horrid abode with all its rugged twists and turns. She showed me the dungeons where she kept prisoners and heathens who dared disobey her or make her unhappy. She showed me an even deeper dungeon where she kept fae, young and old, all kept in shackles as they cooked and served and.. slaved away, never to see the sun or breathe the air on the surface. 

She took me to a grim display, where the bodies of fae she claimed as rebels hung on the wall, their bodies bearing the evidence of dried blood and decay, with clouds of buzzing flies swarming around their putrid remains, feasting on the stench of death. Despite the gruesome sight, it barely made me flinch. I had grown accustomed to the same macabre spectacle back at Father's palace.

“Again with the choice of furniture, Amarantha..” I cover my nose and hear a chuckle from her beside me.

“Do you not like it? I thought you'd feel right at home..”

I hate it. I hate how she's turning into a smaller version of my Father. Even here I cannot escape him. They cannot enslave mortals and so they turn to enslaving their kin. 

Before we left from the dungeons she takes pride in, I paused, taking a final glance at the faces of the dead. I studied each pair of their horrifically opened eyes, every feature, searching diligently for any resemblance to the children I once brought here to the Lighthouse.

“What did this one do?” I approach a fae, her wide eyes stared vacantly, locked in an image of fear that remained even in death. Her once vibrant, auburn curls were crudely hacked off and burned, her arms stretched unnaturally towards another faun like herself. A male one.

Just like..

“Hm? Ah. Foolish little doe. Tried to stab me in the back during my entertainments. I wiped out her entire family, you see.” A cruel chuckle escapes her. “I hadn’t even noticed. Only she and her husband remained. And now they'll be together forever. A beautiful death I've bestowed upon them, wouldn't you agree..?"

“How frequent are these attempts?” I try turn my head away, but underneath the mask, my eyes were still glued to the pair, memorising their features, ingraining it into memory. The skin around my cuffs began to itch, aching to tear Amarantha to pieces.

I look at those bodies and see my children. I see Aurelia. I see her eyes in that female's face, pretty and blue and filled with joy.

They are her parents. There is no doubt.

“These bodies have been rotting for over a year now. I should really have them cleaned off the wall.. But I relish in the faces that pass by. Makes people remember their place. But I shouldn’t bore you with my executions. I'm sure you've had your fair share of that back at home already.”

“Father's rule is ever so peaceful. The people are behaved. Unlike yours. Hardly surprised that you have to result to such extremes just for a shrivel of respect.” I passed her, walking away from the dungeon I no longer wanted to see.

I felt the snake around my neck slither slowly, its hiss soft and and quiet beneath my chin. ‘I want to mount her on that wall.’ I hear her little mind say. ‘Niamh, those were..”

‘I know.’

‘Will you tell Aurelia?’

It’ll break her heart. Aside from Uri, every one of those Prythian children still hope that they could be reunited with their families, whomever remains still. They still hold on to that hope that someone, anyone, or just one in their family might still be alive. 

Knowing the horrors her parents were subjected to in her absence will break her. It’d break anyone but..

‘I'll have to.’

     — —

I was careful to put on gloves today. One touch on a servant or prisoner or even the walls then I might live their pain. After our tour, Amarantha kept me in her little receiving room, with the Attor beside me, watching my every move. We talked about Hybern and the troops she left behind, how I graciously became their beacon of leadership in her absence and how they like me better. All the things that I thought might prick a nerve. And I was right.

“How goes the ruling bit of your vacation?” I ask, my eyes to the balcony that revealed the sky void of clouds.

“If his Majesty is getting impatient he can suck it up and wait. I'm not done here yet.” She hissed, the eye in her ring twitching. 

“What of the lordling you're trying to court, hm? Any luck there?” Her eyes narrowed and before she could open her mouth I let out a slight laugh. 

“Thought so~”

“It is in progress. He is being.. difficult.” She inhales then smiles her usual wicked one. “But, it shouldn't take too long.. Forty-nine years is almost up. Sooner than late.. he will come to me.”

I raise a brow, “What does that mean?”

Amarantha plays with her silver goblet, admiring how the red swirls in the cup before taking a sip. “I took your advice to heart, Niamh, believe it or no. I sought the Spring Court and invited them to a ball to offer my sincerest apologies after I gauged some boy's eye out. A masquerade ball.” Her gaze flickered to my mask, a wicked fondness spread across her face. “And yet. with all my efforts to see peace between us he.. refused. And.. insulted me.”

A laugh escapes me, earning me a glare from the pretender. But she said nothing as a retort or made an attempt to reprimand me. She only seethed silently and rolled her eyes at me.

“And so I cursed him and the entirety of his foolish flock of hens. If he does not break the curse in seven times seven years.. He will bend the knee to me and become my consort. If he does not bend, I will break him, command his bones to sit on the chair beside me.”

I fight the urge to scoff as I leaned back in my seat. I fear that if I don’t soothe myself I might lunge at her. “And? You still think he'll submit to you then? When for five centuries he refused to do so?”

“He's at his wits end. His powers are dwindling, he cannot defy me any longer.”

The mask hides my growing glare. Any more and I might’ve broken the damn thing with my burning stare alone. This bitch. As soon as I left in my last visit, she cursed him.

She cursed Tamlin.

“And when did this curse begin?”

“A year remains. And I shall await my consort.. with due patience~”

I inhaled the air, slowly, taking in her words yet I still can’t believe what I’m hearing. I feel my hand grip the arms of my seat. I need to calm down. 

“And once it's over, then what? When he submits to you, will you finally fulfil your mission?”

“I will rule with my consort as I see fit.” She said simply, shrugging carelessly, as if it were the obvious answer.

I look away, a faint huff of laughter escapes me, harsh and bitter. If I let my gaze linger on her for a moment longer, with her red lipped grin and her horrid black eyes, I would have recreated our duel a century ago. Gods, do I crave to be coated with her blood once more…

“You're pathetic..”

“Excuse me?”

“Resulting in cursing an entire land to get what you want.”

“I will stop at nothing to achieve my goals. You have doubted my capabilities for long enough.”

“My doubts are never wrong.” I stand, marching towards her, each step of my heels like thunder, the room trembling as if responding to my every stride. I clawed at the back of her chair, meeting her dull eyes through the slits of my mask as she visibly froze.

“You are an ill-made, spiteful little devil.” With fingers clenching the back of her chair, I meet onyx through the slits of my mask. There is hatred boiling in those black eyes, hatred uniquely reserved for me. Yet, she doesn't dare move. Time has done little to quench the bitter memory of that duel, the one that left her humbled, broken, and humiliated. With fear now overshadowing any remaining hatred, she knows better than to challenge the one who had once drove a blade into her wretched heart. 

“You came from nothing and had to climb your way up to power. And even then you're weak and useless. You flaunt power that does not even belong to you. You think the King is impressed? He does not even spare you a thought. You are irrelevant. In Hybern. In Prythian. In any land you dare step on—you are nothing.”

I felt her fists clench around the arms of her chair that she almost broke it. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner? You think I care what your father thinks? Long have I stopped caring about what he thinks. I made myself Queen in a matter of years and yet you still belittle my achievements. While you, the insipid little princess that you are, still cower and follow every command he throws at you. Are you so jealous that I made something of myself while you still grovel for your father's attention?”

I huffed a quick laugh. “It is not I who grovels for a male’s attention.” I bite back. “I do not curse entire lands in hopes that he might look at me. I do not brutalise peasants in hopes that he might swoon over my cruelty. I do not force people to like me. And yet.. I won over Father. I won over his Court. You made yourself Queen and yet you're still unlikable.”

“You forget yourself. You are no more tool, a plaything to the King than I. You think he will commend you for tormenting me? You think you'll win his affections and tell you he's proud of you, his little girl? He will cast you aside as he did I.”

I let go of the chair, allowing her air to breathe as I stepped back. “He has already commended me. I am High Commander of all his forces. He's crowned me heir apparent in your absence. Father loves me. His court respects me.”

She lets out a mocking laugh, bitter and fake. “You fool yourself, Niamh. Pray tell, what do you hide under those gloved hands?”

“Power. Power he didn't think, not once, to give to you. Tool I may be. But I'm his favourite weapon to wield. I have worked hard and I have earned the love and respect of my court. Queen you are, but only in name. This is not your land. These are not your people. The power you wield isn't yours. You're a pretender through and through. Perhaps if you yield now Father and his court may be merciful. Save them from this embarrassment of a conquest—”

A loud thud echoed through the room as Amarantha unleashed her fury, her clenched fists slamming into the arm of her chair, splintering the bone.

“I. Do not. Want. His mercy. I do not want to be in his Court. I never want to be his tool ever again!! You of all people should know the horrors he inflicts upon people. He's truly broken you, hasn't he?” 

“Perhaps. And maybe I am stronger for it. I've never been more myself.” The lie felt like sand on my tongue as I uttered it.

She walks towards me now, daring to close the space between us. “What do you want? Why have you come here, Niamh, truly?”

A smirk fades into my face while I tilt my head. “Do I need a reason? Maybe I merely enjoy tormenting you. Everyone needs a tormenter. These people have you. I have the King.. And you have me~”

“You are awfully interested in Prythian affairs. What have you done to those children I gave you several decades back?”

I pause. “I brought them to a feast.”

“Did you?”

“Hm. Young ones are.. so full of fresh blood.” She narrows her eyes as if trying to figure me out. “Why? Any more gifts for me..~?” I asked which earned me a scoff.

Amarantha scoffed and crossed her arms. “You've overstayed your welcome. No more gifts.”

I clicked my teeth. “Pity.” I step towards the balcony.

“Any rebellion brewing beneath the caves these past decades?”

“If there were, I've put them down.” She leans back in her seat, curbing her fury that I could still very much feel even from a distance. “A few Courts tried years back. They failed. And so I took their young from them and wrought havoc to their Courts.”

I flinched. “How many?”

“Two dozen from the Winter Court. Pity, you were not here to.. take them with you.”

“A shame.” I look back to the grey skies of the a Middle. There's an ominous fog that enveloped this place. Though, I hoped that what lay beyond the mist would be the Prythian Velaria and the children always talked about.

“How do you keep the citizens in check outside the Mountain? Those who did not join their courts?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“I cursed the land so they may not leave their borders. snuffing out any seeds of rebellion before they even take root. Clever little things they are though, managed to lure in mortals to serve as messengers. A pitiful attempt. One that I've crushed and continue to look over.”

I know. I saw them mounted to the walls with the butchered fae during our tour. A twisted form of trophy. I am no stranger to such displays, much of Father's palace decorations are from mortal remains. Another reason why I cannot stand to visit the dreadful place. It reeks. Even more than Under The Mountain.

I feel the snake– Velaria, slither around my neck. ‘He's not here.’ I speak to her little reptile mind. ‘I haven't seen him all day, not even during the tour. I do not know where he is.’ She hisses and hugs my neck tighter as if to say, ‘Find him.’ 

I sigh and turn to Amarantha. “And where are the High Lords now? Still hiding them from me? Too afraid I might belittle you in their presence?”

“I think they rather not see you. Not after your little display on your last visit, taking their children like that.” 

Right..

“And where is your.. errand boy?” I look to the door, as if a small part of me hoped that the male would interrupt us as he did during our last visit.

“Rhysand is off making errands, as you say.”

Velaria hisses quietly below my chin. “What dirty work does he do for you?”

“All good work for his Queen~ Out of all the wretched little things under us, all are worthless to me. But Rhysand.. he is a doll.”

I fight the urge to cringe. “Another bedwarmer?”

“He offered himself willingly.”

“And his Court?”

“Some of them live here away from their little Hewn City. A wonderful place really. I had Under The Mountain moulded in its image. You know? To make my Rhysand.. feel more at home?” She grinned and Velaria's snake body darted out as she hissed at her, which only earned her a scowl from the pretender Queen.

“Control your animal, Niamh.” Amarantha snapped at me, scowling at the creature wrapped around my neck.

I could only smile, putting a hand in front of the snake's head. “The little one does not like you~”

She snarled at the creature, “I mislike snakes.” She muttered.

“Really? What a surprise. Considering yourself..”

“If you do not have anything else to discuss with me you are free to leave and return to Hybern.”

“I shan't. I'm on.. vacation~”

“Vacation?”

“I'm to travel around the island. Fulfill errands of my own.” I said, which wasn't a lie. Father told me to scan the island and draw out any magic that will lead him to the missing parts of the Cauldron. And while I do that I shall also enjoy my time and treat it as a vacation.

“I hope you haven't ravaged the lands so much that I cannot enjoy its beauty?”

“Unfortunately I have not. I'm getting to it. I assure you Prythian is most beautiful when its lands are ravaged..”

I roll my eyes, fighting the groan in my throat. “Then I bid you goodbye. Till the next I torment you again, My Queen~”

     — —

I carry the snake around my neck only to find her sulking in my hands. “I revoke my curse.” I command in whispers and a dark aura envelops the snake before returning her back to her original form, with her slender figure and big Illyrian bat wings folded behind her. She stumbled a bit so I had to grab her wrist to ground her.

“He.. He wasn't there.”

“He wasn't.” I frown when I see her dejected face. “I'm sorry.”

She breathes the wretched air of the Middle then her features softened. “At least he is alive. Thank the Mother.. he is alive.”

“Gods, Niamh. It's even worse than I thought. That place.. is as dreadful as Hewn City. Even more.” She shook her head. “We need to help them.”

“I fear their is not much I can do. I can torment Amarantha all I like. But I cannot interfere with her reign. That is.. the one rule Father gave me.” I look down. “The experiment continues.”

“She’s turned the Middle into.. into..”

I inhaled, “A cheap copy of Hybern, I know..”

“What do we do now..? Will you actually search for those missing pieces?”

“I have no choice. I’ll have to. Returning the information I’ve found, however.. is another matter entirely.” I managed to smile. But not even that lasted.

“First.. I need to know more about the curse she put onto the High Lord of Spring.”

She tipped her chin upward, her eyes hinting silent surprise that quickly faded before she nodded.

"We’ll get to it. But first things first.." She trails of as she took my hands. "Let me show you around Prythian as I promised” She suggested instead and I felt my heart skip a bit, a my lips curling into a smile.

"Alright.."

Velaria links her arm with mine and we begin walking away from the dreadful Mountain. “Where do I even start? Autumn and Summer are close. Winter is right below but it's awfully cold there. I would rather not freeze to death on the start of our.. tour. And I’d do anything to be far, far away from this ghastly place.”

She stood behind me and covered my eyes before I heard the snap her fingers, winnowing us away from the Middle within seconds.

And immediately I felt the air shift.

Slowly she let go of my head, gently uncovering my eyes. Gradually, the world around me emerged—warm colors danced everywhere, the cold breeze swayed leaves in odd shapes and carried the crisp fragrance of soil mingled with the soothing scent of rain-kissed earth.

I can feel Velaria stifle a chuckle as my face betrays the look of wonder, my eyes showing yearning for the smallest of things. Even my heart began to race that I felt a twinge of embarassment for it. It is pathetic, I'm sure. And I ought to contain my childish excitement. 

Velaria lets out a heavy sigh after she inhales the fresh, autumn air. And I did the same. I breathed in the air that was so strange, unfamiliar, nice. And I kept sniffing the air like every breath was a need and I have suffocated for years and years on end. Because I have. 

“Ah.. That's the smell. Gods. It smells soo nice here. No offence but Hybern air could not compare.”

“I know. None taken.” The words came out of me without thought, my eyes focused only on the view below, a sea of warm coloured trees stretched before me. An ocean of red and orange and yellow leaves gently swayed by the wind. It was as if the Mother herself had used the Earth as her canvas, lavishly splashing brilliant, warm colors across the landscape. I have never seen anything so colourful. 

“The forest.. It's.. big.”

“Is it not?” She gushed as she smiled happily. “Autumn and Spring are very well covered with trees and forests. The High Lord of Autumn has his abode set at the heart of the Court, built not with stone but through trees called the Forest House!"

“But that is horrible. How would the place hold when enemy attacks with fire?” I asked. A genuine question. 

But Velaria laughs softly, thinking my question to be silly. “Magic, maybe? Fire is Autumn’s especially. But I can't believe that's your first question. Come, we'll explore together.” She holds my hand.

I smiled and I let her lead me wherever she pleased whether or not she knew where to go. And all the while we explored the lush forests, I kept admiring the canopy of leaves up above, and how the sun peeked through the cracks, mildly blinding me. And more often than not, Velaria had to remind me to watch my step, to look forward and not upward when I could trip on twigs and branches hidden under the pool of maple leaves that swallowed my ankles. 

Maple leaves. It is what they're called. 

“Aurelia asked me to bring her some big maple leaves. So she may preserve it and put it on her bedside table.”

“Ah, right. The list. We can grab a few. The biggest maple leaf for her to preserve.”

I summon the list before me, looking for the things the children back at the Lighthouse requested. “Clem wants knitted scarves. Rory did not list anything but.. I'm going to get him scarves too.” 

Velaria chuckled. “Then we better start looking for their things.”

     — —

Autumn is warm and vibrant, even as an endless canopy of leaves blankets the sky, veiling the sun. Yet, the people of this Court are visibly on edge. Expected, given the blight infecting the lands and their High Lord nowhere in sight. I learned that there are several princes, all of them stuck Under the Mountain save for one. The one in Spring just next door.

I feel my heart clench inside my chest. Not yet. I cannot go there yet.

Velaria had whisked me away to a territory south east of the mountains that border Winter and Autumn, leading me to a quaint village tucked deep within a forest, weakly warded with magic I easily walked into. Some sections of the place bore the faint signs of destruction, with children claiming that they had been attacked by forces loyal to Amarantha. It seemed that the damage was old enough that the villagers had made significant progress in rebuilding. But the trauma of such an attack, no matter how minor, no doubt still lingers on the people’s faces.

I had myself glamoured like the commonfolk as did Velaria, my mask long discarded since leaving Amarantha's abode and my silver strands turned to a dark amber color. We strolled through the town in silence, trying not to draw attention to ourselves before Velaria pointed to a market square at the center of the town. She turned into a walking encyclopedia for the many things that were foreign to me. Jams. Scented candles. Roasted nuts. The infamous pumpkin I keep hearing about.

Amazing. It’s like a whole new world of things in this humble little square.

And, and, while Velaria was off exploring more stalls, I have been introduced to the art of crochet. Knitted scarves line several vendor's lineup of products, many of them a variety of colourful scarves, the threads often representing repeated patterns and images of acorns and pumpkins. I’ve commissioned an artisan for several scarves, one for every Autumn-born child, and watched as she made them for me. Apparently, I’ve made her uncomfortable with my ogling her work and so I stopped staring and just sat there looking at something else.

When Velaria returned she came back to me now sitting beside the young crochet artisan with a thread of yarn and hook of my own, my eyes set on the artisan's skilled, furry little hands, imitating her every move.

In the end, I got my knitted scarves and managed to make.. a hat. Though.., too small for my head. I have neglected the measurements it seems. The artisan also gifted me the crochet hook along with a bundle of yarn for my extra payment. I thanked her kindly and erased everyone’s mind of me and Velaria's visit before setting off.

“Wow~ Quick learner, aren't you?” She bumped into my arm as she looked at my creation.

I couldn’t help but smile proudly. “Thank you. Do you like it?” I watched as she put on the small hat on her head. It did not fit her either. 

“It's pretty. In no time, you'll be a master knitter.”

“It is called crochet.”

“Crochet–er..”

“I want to taste pumpkin.” I suddenly blurted out. 

And Velaria wasted no time in leading me to a nearby inn, eager to treat my stomach to the delicacies of the Autumn Court. Velaria ordered me a bowl of pumpkin soup. She did not warn me of the spice part. And so when I ate my fill I did so with my face as red as the owner's beard. I didn't want to be rude so I finished it, every spoonful tasted sweet and warm and.. different. Despite the tears that began to form in the corner of my eyes, I was happy because I finally knew what pumpkin tasted like. Velaria on the other hand, had her head rolled back as she laughed at me and my reddened face.

I am used to her doing that. More often than not, my reaction to the smallest of things amuses the hell out of her. 

“Good?” The owner asked, his voice just as amused. 

I nod, unable to say anything as I gulp down the final drop of burning soup. “M-mhm.. A-amaziiing..” With my compliment, the owner smiled happily and nudged my shoulders.

We winnowed to the borders of Autumn soon after for the Summer Court. We walked in silence, the only sounds being the crunching of leaves beneath footsteps and Velaria's stifled giggles. 

My tongue still burns..

“Velaria. Enough.” I sigh. “It is not that funny.”

“It's a little funny..”

“I find you often laugh at my misery.” I pout. 

“Oh, I cannot help it, you are cute when you're utterly clueless.”

“I wouldn't have been clueless if you warned me of the soup's spice. I don't know if I tasted more spice than I did pumpkin. What if you ruined pumpkin for me forever?” I sigh.

“You overexaggerate.” I hear her snort. “High Commander of Hybern forces.. cannot handle spice..” She bursts into giggles again and I roll my eyes. Yet there is a smile on my face. 

“Any other spicy foods I should be wary of in Summer because I..” I was about to continue speaking when the sun's warm rays suddenly hit me, no longer shielded by the leafy canopy above. 

The heat was.. intense, the brightness nearly blinding. I shut my eyes instinctively, and when I opened them again, I was stunned by the sight that greeted me: a vast expanse of open skies painted with fluffy white clouds.

Never could I imagine Hybern with such scenery. In Hybern, the land is bleak, the skies perpetually covered in a haze of murky clouds and fog, barely allowing the faintest touch of sunlight.

“I never knew.. that clouds could arrange themselves to create a canvas of such beauty, or that the sun could shine with such fervor,.. that it's warm when it touches me.” My voice cracks as I whisper, my eyes narrowed and blinded by the sun and yet I could not tear my eyes off of it.

Velaria was silent behind me, still shielded by the shade of Autumn trees. But I sensed her turmoil within. Maybe she pitied me. For being imprisoned in the shadows for so long that even the most mundane of natural wonders felt foreign to me.. I would pity myself as well.

She gently touched my hand, her touch firm yet soft as she gently tugs at my fingers, silently beckoning me to follow her. “Come. I'll take you to Adriata..” 

I did not budge.

“Niamh?”

“Wait.” And I stare for a while more. Then more. Until I found myself under the shade casted by Velaria's large wing above my head.

“Can we.. go.. now?” She asks, and I gently swat her wing away.

“Wait.”

And so we wait for a few more minutes. Maybe an hour. Or two. Velaria is sitting in the ground now, her huge wings shielding her from the sun since I refused her.

“Can we go now?” I hear her muffled voice from inside her wing shelter.

“Wait..” My eyes are burning. I might be blind. A little woozy, even. But Mother above, does it look beautiful.

“Niamh, you will literally get a sunburn.” She stood up at last and covered my head with her wing once more.

“We're leaving now.” She grabbed my hand and winnowed us someplace else, under the shade of a peculiar looking tree.

“Gods above, you're red. It’s like the Cauldron have boiled you!” She was torn between horrified and close to bursting into a fit of laughter again. “You look like you've been cooked by the sun!”

I smiled wide and touched my face. Oh. It stings. “Really? Am I tan like you?”

“More like.. red.” She snorted and hesitated to touch my apparently burnt face. I was still smiling. And she was on the verge of cackling again.

“Does it look bad?”

“Heal yourself before we waltz inside Adriata looking like I have a fried chicken walking beside me.” She cackles. “If you show your wings you'd actually look like fried fowl. Raw, barely cooked.. fowl.”

“You are a very mean Illyrian..” I mocked a pout and did as she told and healed myself with a pat of the palms to my cheek.

Velaria took me to the main city of Summer called Adriata, near the beach, overlooking the harbor. Unlike the dense forests of Autumn, Summer's territory was largely composed of flat lands veiled in sparkling sand. And unlike Autumn, the people here seemed much more downtrodden. The golden castle once perched regally atop the water now lay in ruin, its once-brilliant walls scorched by flames. The docks that lined the harbor were torn asunder, with sections now sunk into the depths of the sea. The air was tinged with the scent of the sea and decaying fish as many fishers frantically came and went carrying baskets of fish they claimed to be dead. 

So it seems she poisoned their oceans too.

These poor people. What could they have possibly done to deserve this? And what could I do to help them? Before I could think, I was pulled away from the busy harbor and winnowed to empty shores.

“I will show you around first. You thinking of ways to help these people can come later.” She crossed her arms.

“It is.. beginning to become difficult to enjoy this.. ‘vacation’, given the circumstances.”

“I know. And I want to help them, too but.. I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

“Waiting for what?”

She let go of my shoulders and pointed at the ocean. “Showing you the beach, silly Niamh.”

“Oh..” A smile creeped onto my face. I can’t deny that I was feeling excited at the thought of dipping my feet into the water. “Of course.”

Before the water could touch me, I summoned the scroll of requests and read Soleil and Tesni’s writing. “What's a conch?” I looked at Velaria as she ran to the shore, then stopped immediately as I asked a question. 

“Are you serious?” She deadpanned, her voice tinged with disbelief. I responded with a shrug and a shake of my head, a small smile present on my face.

“Seashells, Niamh??” I shake my head again.

“I will bite your father's head off, I swear to the Mother above.” She muttered under her breathe before inhaling. “Come here. I'll show you.”

Hesitantly I followed her to the approaching waves. She took off her shoes and told me to do the same. When the waves came and swept under me, seemingly pulling me towards the ocean, I lost my balance and struggled to stand, the sand slowly sinking beneath my feet as Velaria reached for my gloved arm. She laughs and I couldn't help but do the same. Water splashes onto my clothes, droplets hitting my face and I taste salt in my tongue when I smile. 

Velaria looked down to the sandy floor, the water, despite being cursed by whatever Amarantha did to it, was still pristine blue and clear. Vel reaches out to the floor, occasionally being pushed forward by waves.

She then presented me with tiny stones. 

“This is a seashell.” She says, showing me the circular looking thing, pale blue and yellow colours twisted to the centre of its body. “And this is a conch.” She presents me a larger shell, one not so circular, spiral shaped with tiny spikes twisting into a small spire.

“Conches and seashells are alive actually. But these ones are dead, I think. Just shells. Makes for pretty decor. Maybe we can make a collection for Soleil and Tesni.” She hands them to me and keeps looking for more while I follow behind. 

We spent a good while looking for conches and seashells. I lost the first ones Vel found when I was pushed to the water by a big wave. The water was salty, truly. I had swallowed a good mouthful of it. Velaria, of course, found it funny, dropping her collection of shells to hold her tummy as she laughed at me and the seaweeds that newly adorned my head. How dare she. In retaliation, I flung water to her face. In which resulted in a battle that had us both drenched in sea water from head to toe.

She decided that the shell collecting could wait and before long she was dragging me to the deeper parts of the ocean that the water reached my collarbones. I whined and cried and begged her to bring me back to shore because I.. could not.. swim..

“Oh, you'll be fine. I'll fly you out if you drown.” She clicked her teeth and winked at me.

Velaria is many things. A good swim teacher is not one of them. I lost count on how many times she let me get swept by the waves. In the end, I gave up and just clung to her arm like a slug. We stuck to shell collecting on shallow waters soon after. And when we were satisfied with the amount Velaria suggested: sand castle building. And so while I watched her make a horrendous looking hovel made of sand, I looked through the list of requests again.

“Tesni wants a spider.” I said and Velaria looked at me weird.

“Why would she want a spider?” 

I shrugged and showed her the list. “Is this not a drawing of an arachnid?” I asked.

She looked at the paper for a moment and looked me dead in the eye. “Niamh. That's a crab.”

“What's a crab?”

     — —

Crabs. Crabs are wonderful creatures. I spent a good hour watching them head to sea in a beautiful line while Vel stood watch with her wings spread, protecting the crustaceans from prying seagulls. Crustaceans. That's what they are. Not arachnids. 

Vel gave up on her sand castle after the waves took over and left nothing but a lump of sand in its wake, which was no different from the structure she was working on anyway. Then we head to the city, glamoured like the common folk and still soaking wet because Vel wanted me to try ice cream. And I am proud to say that ice cream has completely altered my brain and that I will have to recreate the dessert back in Hybern. 

I also learned what a coconut was and drank from it and ate its insides. Very nice. Very refreshing. Not spicy at all.

“Do you live under a rock?” The little water wraith child pointed at me. I hear Velaria’s chuckle behind me. ‘She does.’ She murmured.

I asked the child about Amarantha’s curse upon Spring and he thought I’d been playing dumb. Apparently, everyone knows what happened. 

“There was a ball before the first year of Amarantha's reign came to a close. A.. what’s it called? Masquerade ball? She invited the people of Spring to make amends. She offered a seat beside her for the High Lord, to serve as her consort! He refused, of course. Insulted her to her face and faced her wrath for it!”

I hear Velaria suck a breath beside me. “What did she do?” I asked.

“She glued the masks to their faces. Everyone in Spring apparently has them now. She turned the High Lord's heart into stone, putting him in a curse that entails.. that if he doesn't break it in forty-nine years, he will have to surrender and uhm.. ‘bend the knee’, as my brother said..”

“And the curse.. What was it?”

“He had to find himself a human who has hatred for Fae in her heart. He had to bring her to Prythian and make her fall for him. Fall for him truly. Only then.. the curse will be broken and the people of Spring will be freed”

“Only the people of Spring?”

She nods. “If he breaks it, his powers will return to him. He can kill her!”

“And.. has he.. begun the search?”

The girl frowned. “We do not know. We do not know what's happening in Spring anymore. We used to have people.. informants. Human mortals. My brother suspected.. they've been found and killed. There's no way to know now. Less than a year remains.. We're at the mercy of The Unfading one now.”

I was silent for a while as I processed her words.

The weight of not just the Spring Court weighed on his shoulders now. It’s the entirety of Prythian. All the while his powers have been weakened. I felt my heart sink in my chest that it might’ve stopped beating. 

He has to break the curse. He has to..

I felt Velaria’s hand on my shoulders before she knelt before the child in front of us. “Don’t lose hope.” She said. 

The child smiles faintly. “Most of us already have.” She said before running off to catch up to other wraiths who returned to the water to search for more dead fish.

“Niamh.” Velaria calls to me, her hand soft on my arm.

Yet I couldn't hear her..

Masks. Glued onto their faces. I’ve had a mask on my face for as long as I could remember. Amarantha struck me during that one visit. My mask fell. She held it. She held it and the gears in the horrid head began turning. My mask inspired her. I inspired the wretched curse.

And now..

“Niamh..?"

I felt like throwing up.

“I want to go fishing.” I said instead.

     — —

I didn’t want to dwell on it. It’s not my fault. It’s not.. Yet when I do, the guilt gnaws in my chest like a damn parasite. I could only turn to something else to distract myself, distract Velaria because I know well she’s noticed that I’ve been acting strange since the revelation of that curse.

So when the opportunity presented itself, I had volunteered myself to fish near the.. ‘coral reefs’, whatever that was. The fishers needed all the help they could get, after all. Only.. I did not know how to fish. Velaria pretended she could, only to sit there on the raft for hours without anything catching her bait. I stood and watched them, a bit embarrassed to admit I spend a good amount of time just gawking at the colorful reef below the water. A perfect momentary distraction. Only then I knew what corals were. And they were.. so very pretty.

And while I sat there on the edge of the fishers’ raft, I let my left glove disintegrate for a moment, allowing my bare fingers to dip and swirl in the water. I focused my magic, altering the curse that Amarantha had placed on it to.. ease their work. I would only aim to reverse the blight in a small area, hoping to alleviate the fishers' plight without drawing too suspicion. Because Amarantha will find out and the people will surely suffer her wrath for something they once again didn’t do.

The few fishers that were on the raft freaked out when they felt their line tugged beneath the water, thanking the Mother above for such a miracle. Velaria looked at me, knowing well that the miracle was me, and patted me on the head.

The people of Summer couldn't hide their euphoria, now that their bellies were full with the fish. They held a spontaneous celebration by the docks, with some fishermen too impatient to cook their catch at home, instead indulging right there and then. They shared whatever they could do those in need. I needed no fish to fill me, but I was happily shared some either way. 

The people of Summer proved to be as warm and welcoming as the land they lived in.., which is why I regretted deeply that I had to wipe myself and Velaria from their memories before we left.

I do not know what the future holds.. But may there be many more fishes to come to keep those smiles on their faces.

     — —

It's dark when our adventures in Summer ended. Velaria, too tired to enter another Court, suggested we stay on the shores and wait for daylight. So we did. We lay on the sand with the waves still singing in the background and the birds flying overhead and into the sun that sank below, meeting its reflection in the horizon.

I’m not obligated to return to Hybern even if the sun came down as the King instructed me to seek out the three legs of the Cauldron anyway. And so far I have not found nor sensed the priestesses who possess them so.. I dub my vacation extended.

I do not see Hybern in the distance. A good thing. And while Father is out of sight and out of reach, the golden cuffs around my wrist itches still, reminding me that even if he isn't here I am still bound to him and my cage doesn't depend on where I am.. My cage is always with me.

And I am never truly free.

I let the gloves covering my arms disintegrate, letting the cool air brush past the cursed skin of my blackened hands. I fidgeted with the green handkerchief securing the end of my braid, tugging at it until it came undone, freeing the glamour-woven strands. Now revealed was my true hair - a striking silver cascade, shimmering in the sunlight as it fell onto the sand.. 

Slowly, I tie the cloth to my wrist, above the golden cuff, hiding it. Replacing it.

Velaria seems to notice. She lays beside me, her big wings spread freely after a whole day of hiding it.

“Where do you wish to go tomorrow?” She asks, her hand touching mine. 

“Anywhere is fine.. Anywhere is beautiful, surely..” I did not tear my eyes off the clouds as the first tiny silvery specks of stars began to appear, paving way to dusk’s fleeting moment of splendor before night.

“Winter is right up north. Spring to the south.” She says, looking at me as she did.

“Winter.” I say quickly. “Let's go to Winter first. Then Dawn. Day. Then, Night.” I look at her. “To Velaris, if you wish.”

“Do you not want to go to Spring?”

“Do you?”

She said nothing. 

“We can go to Spring last.” I said, turning my gaze back to the changing hues of the skies.

And for a moment, there was peaceful silence between us as we let our eyes rest with the view of the coming of twilight. 

“Why did you snap at Amarantha when she told you of her curse to the Spring Lord?” Her voice was a mere whisper and I fought myself to remain unflinching at her question. Of course she noticed.

Because he is mine..

“Because it was a horrible thing. What she did. I.. The common folk are easy enough to fool. If we wander about Spring with a High Lord present, I doubt we would be so lucky.” I lied. A weak attempt. I know she sees through the lie. Because there is no place and no person I couldn't fool. Not when I could just erase their memories after meeting them. 

Yet she let it slide this time, never prying, always patient.

In truth, it is the High Lord of Spring that I am avoiding. The fear of meeting him and running the risk of the bond snapping for him at last and ruining his efforts of breaking whatever curse Amarantha has brought upon him. I could laugh. That I am here, avoiding my mate when some would commit atrocities to find theirs. Avoiding my mate so that he may find himself a human mortal to make his lover lest he's faced with a worse alternative.

Either way I lose him to another. 

Perhaps I am scared that the bond will snap and I will be unable to control myself. I will ruin him, I will ruin myself and the plans I've well crafted throughout the centuries. The plot against the King, to free my people and myself from our golden shackles.

And so I will sacrifice myself again. And pray.. that in the future I may find him again. And if he's happy with another I will accept the outcome with a stiff lip. 

I close my eyes. My thoughts have not found respite. I have not seen him in what feels like an eternity, his face is all but fading in my mind. And when I close my eyes like this it is gold that I see. Not the gold of my cuffs, or gold of coins. I see golden locks reflecting the shine of the fiery sun. I see green and eternal fields of roses. When we wandered about Autumn, it is to his Court my gaze wanders to and I imagine– I yearn to run to the border and feel the bond tickle at the pulse in my wrist, tugging at it, pulling at it. When we wandered about Summer, the shimmering sand below my feet reminded me of his hair and I wondered if his locks would flow so softly between my fingers as did the sand when it fell through the cracks of my hands.

“Then we will go to Winter.” She held my hand tighter. “I warn you though, it's cold.”

“I got that from the name, Vel.”

The two seasonal courts have embraced me so kindly, with Autumn's warmth and Summer's fresh ocean air, I have no doubt that the others will too. I have no doubt that snow will be as captivating as the children say, nor do the libraries tempt me to stay in Day. I have no doubt that the skies are most beautiful when it's dimly lit like a candle's flame in the quiet of Dawn. I have no doubt that Velaris is as beautiful as Velaria described, adorned with a thousand falling crystals that light up its dark skies.

Yet deep down, I find myself yearning for what lies to the south. Spring consumes my thoughts, beckoning me with its lush plains and colourful blooms. Sights that I could only conjure in my mind. 

It is Spring that I long to experience above all else.

     — —     — —

<<Ch.1 <<Ch.5 ___ Ch.7>>

A/n: She's going through it 😭 Such a yearner, she wants him so bad 😔😔 girl me too. Getting attached with the Lighthouse children ngl. They are important to me and the plot 😔♥ I want more lesser fae that are not literally just humans with pointed ears. I want Holly Black kind of fae people, that's what most of the children Niamh keeps are, not entirely humanlike, but a good balance between humanoid and creature. Myb I'll draw them aaa

Vel showing her around or just her getting to know Prythian reminded me of this song. Niamh is so Ariel-coded ngl 🥹

[freesia-writes]

Howzer + Aurelia Ch. 3

Beginning with his shiny days, this story follows Howzer's character arc through some heartwarming romance, action, adventure, yearning, angst, and growth.

Master List of Chapters

Content/Trigger Warnings for Entire Work (individual chapters not labeled): wartime peril, injury, and death; sexual assault up to kissing; relationship passion up to making out and heavy petting; sexual relationship alluded to (smut is posted separately); pregnancy, birthing trauma, and stillbirth (chapters 30-39, can be skipped and still keep up with the story).

Word Count: 925

.

3. Potential

Aurelia wiped the cloth across the bar counter mindlessly as she watched an hourglass-shaped BD-3000 luxury droid moving to the beat with a predictable series of motions, fully holding the clone captain's attention as he bopped along next to her. A smile crept onto Aurelia's face, accompanied by the mild fondness she always felt at the clones' behaviors.

She had worked at 79s for a few months, considering it a "place holder" while she figured out a more long-term career plan. She simultaneously had far too many aspirations at once while also feeling overwhelmed and paralyzed by all of them, settling instead to cater to the needs of a rowdy crowd most nights while she daydreamed about the possibilities.

"Whatcha thinkin about, beautiful?" came an exceedingly smooth clone voice, bringing her back to reality, and her eyes snapped into focus to see Pivot leaning on the bar across from her. She smiled, swatting her washcloth at him playfully.

"Just pining for your return, of course," Aurelia responded quickly, flipping the cloth over her shoulder and bending down to prepare his usual drink. He had been coming there long before she started, and he was as comforting as he was harmless. She had initially been put off by what seemed like advances, but when she realized there was nothing behind them other than flattery and fun, she relaxed and played along.

"Well, feast your eyes," Pivot answered, sliding some credits across the counter to her as she poured the drink from the shaker into a highball glass. She plopped a couple bright berries on the top and pushed it toward him.

"Consider them feasted."

Pivot laughed, giving her a playful salute as he scooped up his glass and made his way back to his squad in a corner booth.

***

"I mean, if you think about it, it seems like such a simple solution," Howzer said, gesturing abstractly with one hand. "I can't wait to show them what some real strategy looks like."

"I'm sure they'll be grateful," purred the Mirialan next to him, cupping her face in her hand and resting an elbow on the table, looking up at him with admiration.

"Well, it's what we were made for," he answered, puffing up a bit more. This had been going surprisingly well, and he fought to keep his composure. "So, any other plans tonight?"

She shook her head demurely, muttering something about unpacking some cargo crates.

"I've got a little something you can unpack," Howzer chortled, "If you need some practice."

"Ugh," came the reply, and she quickly excused herself without another word. He leaned back in the booth, allowing a brief sigh before regathering himself and rising to his feet. He ambled to the bar counter, scanning the room for any familiar faces long the way and seeing none. He missed Sprint, who was his usual companion when his romantic pursuits came up empty, and consoled himself by imagining what sort of missions his brother may have been enjoying.

"Can I get you anything?"

Howzer looked up, finding the bartender waiting patiently across from him, wiping a glass as she regarded him with a slightly tilted head. Now this he could work with. He leaned jauntily against the counter, flashing his roguish grin and turning on the charm.

"Listen, I know you probably have a lot of questions, but before we dive in, you can go ahead and take a moment to soak it all in. I'm sure you're wondering how you, of all people, managed to find the best-looking clone, right here in your own bar."

Aurelia smirked at the blatant irony of his phrase, fully prepared with a tongue-in-cheek response, "'Best-looking clone'? Did they teach you about irony on Kamino?"

"They taught us about everything," Howzer returned evenly, "So if you've got any questions, I'd be happy to let you in on all the mysteries of the galaxy." He raised one eyebrow with a distinctly fiendish air, eyes roving from her curly black hair to her full lips. Her nose was a bit beakish, but she had pretty eyes, dark and intelligent.

"Wow. What an offer," she marveled, pressing the back of a hand to her forehead as if about to faint. This came with the territory, sure, but could also become tiresome. She yearned for any conversation of substance, but was realizing more and more that this was not the atmosphere for that. "In the meantime... Can I get you anything?"

"I'll take a fizz, thanks, but what about you? What are your wildest dreams?" Howzer inquired, eager to continue their exchange.

"To sit under a tree on a cloudy day and read poetry from an actual book," Aurelia answered without missing a beat. She turned to get a bottle from the refrigerator behind her, missing the flash of surprise on Howzer's face. He looked serious for a moment, something working its way through his brain, but was back to his cocky little show when she turned back around.

"Wow," he bantered, "What refined taste you have. I'll get right on that." He exchanged his credits for the bottle, then offered a hand, "The name's Howzer."

"Aurelia," she responded, shaking his hand and secretly hoping his desire for attention had been satisfied.

"Aurelia," he echoed, trying it on for size, "Fancy name for a fancy lady. Alright, Aurelia. I'll be seeing you. Try to hold it together until we meet again." Howzer popped the cap from the bottle, flipped it toward her like a coin, gave her a wink, and sauntered off.

Next Chapter

[naevethewizard]

I'll be so honest, your fix has pulled me into a hole I CANNOT STOP READING.

It's starting to become one of my favourite fics I've ever read and is now in my top 3 bg3 fics I've read so far.

I'm only at chapter 14 but I adore Naeve and the way you characterise Astarion. I also love the way you write the other companions and spawns - Aurelia my beloved <3

Can't wait to read more :)))

Thank you!! Oh man, if you left this comment at Ch 14, we've still got some interesting spawn sibling dynamics coming up -- I hope you enjoy! Thanks for taking the time to shoot me a message! <3

[cursedbeasts]

Ruling Council of Urum-13.

Left to right, top to bottom:

Cordelia, Fabricator Locum, the diplomat, and the source of Slaaneshi corruption

Aurelia Alpha-1-Omega, Fabricator General of Urum-13

Teyron, Magos Dominus. He thinks you have a skill issue.

Kassander, Lexico Arcanum, the prophet of data.

Karhu, Prime Genetor. For personal reasons he turned himself into the bear from Annihilation.

Maledicta, Secutor. Despite being plucked from her homeworld, she took to defending Urum and training its defenders quite well. She doesn't like Aurelia.

[namig42]

This was a chapter I was excited to write and am very pleased with the results. It's a bit longer than the usual ones, which makes sense because there's a lot of elements to this one. If I were to split this story into three parts, I would say that this is the part one finale, so please enjoy!

Just One Yesterday (Ch. 12)

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Read it on Ao3

Summary: This is a modern AU where Wyll is a police officer and Astarion is a sex worker. Despite a problematic start, the two manage to find a connection and have it build in time into something more while also dealing with their demons.

---

When Wyll made it downtown that evening, he parked towards the edge of the district and decided to search on foot. He wore his same burgundy hoodie from Saturday and a pair of faded jeans along with an eyepatch he had kept from when his eye had first gotten injured back after the incident. He was afraid that one of the Szarr hunters would recognize him if Aurelia had given them his description, and so covering his most notable feature seemed ideal. Maybe it only drew more attention to himself, but it never hurt to try and be conspicuous at times like these. With his hood up, Wyll made his way up the main street, looking down each and every alleyway and cross street for Astarion.

It took him walking a few blocks, but eventually, Wyll saw Astarion talking with a tall, lean man with sharp, intelligent eyes. The stranger faced Astarion as Astarion leaned against the wall, almost pinned in by the taller man. The stranger had his hand resting against the wall next to Astarion’s head, cutting off one possible escape route for him. As Wyll approached, he saw how Astarion was playing off the situation coolly, though his fingers were twitching by his side. The smug stranger didn’t seem to notice as he leaned in closer, whispering something that he seemed to think was seductive but made Astarion look like he was cringing in on himself.

Wyll could hear the stranger’s deep, charming voice as he got closer, though neither of the two encroached in conversation noticed his presence. “All you have to do is give in to me, pet. I’ll be sure to make you mine, and you’ll want to thank me for it.”

“As... charming as the offer is, Sahed, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

“Oh? A whore with standards? That’s a bold choice.”

“Yes, well-” Astarion began to push the stranger away by the chest. He turned to look away as he made his excuse, but fell silent when he saw Wyll standing there, watching with a surprised, vacant look on his face.

The confident stranger didn’t seem to notice or care about the change in attitude though. He grabbed Astarion by the chin and turned his face to meet his bright blue eyes. “Come on, Astarion. I even made the point of searching you out. Cazador has always been a good friend to me, so I am sure he wouldn’t be pleased to know how you rejected one of his favorite comrades. Or maybe,” he leaned in closer to Astarion’s face with a sinister smile, “he would?”

Oh… shit. A friend of Cazador’s? For someone who held any clout to be seen in the street, he must’ve really taken to Astarion. Wyll quickly turned his face to hide, not wanting to be noticed by this man.

“If you really are a friend to Cazador, then you’ll understand how much more furious he’d be if a ‘friend’ of his took me away from my work, and especially from him. If you want time with me, then go make a personal request with Cazador himself.”

“You know he doesn’t like to share his favorites, not unless he’s around to watch.” Sahed whined.

“Well, that’s not my problem now, is it?” Astarion said sternly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business I must attend to.” Astarion managed to wave off and step away from the tall, blond, blue-eyed man. He walked past Wyll as he left, not acknowledging him at all. Wyll followed him with his eye, then saw Astarion round a corner and disappear. Wyll looked back to this Sahed gentleman and saw that he was gritting his teeth as he watched Astarion leave. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge Wyll as he turned away and stomped off into the night, sulking at the rejection he had just been dealt.

Once Sahed disappeared from sight, Wyll quickly followed Astarion’s trail. It only took turning a corner, then Wyll was ambushed by the pale man. He had hidden in the shadows and jumped Wyll the moment Wyll came down the alleyway. “What in the hells are you doing here?!”

Wyll was surprised as he was slammed into the wall, but he wasn’t hurt. He put his hands up as Astarion held him by the collar and spoke calmly, “I need to talk to you.”

“Wyll, for god’s sake…” he dropped Wyll and brought his hand up to his temples like a headache was coming on. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

“Well if you know, then what in the hells could be so important that you need to talk to me about it?”

“I want to help you.”

Astarion sighed, shifting his weight as he put a hand on his hip. “Help me with what exactly?” he asked, clearly annoyed and exhausted by this new predicament.

“I want to help you be free of Cazador.” Astarion’s eyes shot open and glared into Wyll. Before he could cut him off, Wyll kept talking. “I know he’s forcing you to kidnap people and that he has a ring for human trafficking. I want to put an end to the monster for the sake of everyone he’s hurt. I’ve already done some investigating, but-”

“Will you shut up?!” Astarion hissed as he covered Wyll’s mouth with one hand. The other one gripped Wyll’s shoulder painfully tight. “What do you think talking will even do? Are you that much of an idiot?”

Wyll gently took the hand covering his mouth and brought it down gently. He squeezed the fair, nimble hand he was now holding a bit tighter as he spoke. “I’ve been trying to find a weakness, an opening, anything that I could use to expose Cazador to bring him down, but I can’t find anything. He’s guarded himself too well. I need someone on the inside who knows how these things work if I’m to do anything of use. Please Astarion, let me help you.” From the look in Astarion’s eyes, it was evident that he was conflicted. There was a sharpness in them that Wyll could tell was frustration, but also a softness that signified longing. Maybe he had been waiting for someone to save him, but just couldn’t accept the truth of it, or maybe he was too petrified to be saved. Either way, after a moment of trying to find the truth in Wyll’s eyes, Astarion sighed and broke the eye contact. He pulled his hand out of Wyll’s grasp, released the vice grip he had on the darker man’s shoulder, and took a step away. “Do you remember what you said to me the first night we met?”

“I said a lot of things,” Wyll responded. Astarion exhaled out of his nose in a response of humor and crossed his arms before continuing. “You said that if I wanted you to leave me alone, you would.”

“And I meant it,” Wyll clarified.

“Well, I want you to leave me alone and never come find me again. Forget about me and all of this and just go live like a normal person.”

Wyll’s heart cracked at the statement, but his resolve was stronger than that. “Is that truly what you want…?” Astarion couldn’t bring himself to meet Wyll’s eye. He looked down and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting some internal battle at Wyll’s question. After what felt like ages of watching this struggle, Astarion finally cursed under his breath. “Gods dammit.” He grabbed Wyll by the hand and pulled him further down the alley. Wyll followed without protest, but was curious as to where they were going. Down the way, a right turn into another narrow alley, up a fire escape to the top floor of an apartment building, and finally, they had reached their destination: an abandoned studio apartment, all to themselves.

The apartment was dusty and barren save for a mattress, a couple of blankets, an old lamp, and a tall wooden dresser. The rest of the room had nothing except for rotting wooden floors, beige stucco walls, and a light fixture hung in the center of the room that looked cracked. Astarion dragged Wyll inside and dropped his hand to walk to the far end of the room. He began to pace and run his fingers through the sides of his hair as he held some kind of conversation with only himself. Wyll stood by the window awkwardly, unsure of what was happening or what he should do next. Whatever conversation was taking place in Astarion’s head, it seemed like quite the argument.

Eventually, Astarion managed to gather his wits and approached Wyll once more. He still had that same conflicted look in his eyes as he began to speak. “Whatever it is that you think you can do, Wyll, just drop it. Cazador is too powerful. Anyone who’s ever tried to do something about the Szarrs always ends up dead, so stop playing at hero and just save yourself. Please.” That last word sounded so resigned, almost as if Astarion had already been defeated.

“Astarion,” Wyll took Astarion’s hand in his again and held it tight. Astarion didn’t try to pull away. “That man is a monster. He doesn’t deserve to get away with everything he’s done. If I just knew something that could be used against him, I could find someone who can help us and make a difference.”

Astarion sighed, “you really are a fool, Wyll. He’s bought off everyone in this gods damned city. No one will help you.”

“Surely there has to be someone-” Wyll interjected, but Astarion cut him off. “No! He’s made himself invulnerable. Trust me, I am intimately aware of his colleagues and connections. There’s nothing you can do, so please… save yourself before you disappear too.”

“Astarion, I’m sorry, but I can’t just stand by and watch someone I care for suffer at the hands of the worst monster I’ve ever known.”

“Wyll, don’t do this, please.” Astarion shook his head as he pulled his hand away and walked back to the opposite wall where he had had his conversation with himself. “I can’t afford to do this again.”

“Do what?” Wyll asked, taking a step towards the center of the room. Astarion turned to face him with a quick motion. “This!” He waved his arms manically towards Wyll in a wide gesture. “Whatever this is! I can’t do this again, not after the last time.”

“What happened last time?”

Astarion looked at Wyll and debated his next words, then crossed his arms, almost hugging himself from what Wyll could see, and began to speak. “The last time I fell for someone, it was almost ten years ago. Let’s just say that after Cazador found out, he made it very clear on where my loyalties were supposed to be placed. The poor boy… He was about the same age as you are now.”

After a heavy pause, Astarion looked Wyll sternly in the eye. “Cazador knows you’re looking into him. Aurelia, that rat. She told him your name and face. If he catches the two of us like this, we’re both as good as dead, though he’ll never kill me. He’ll only make me wish he would.”

Wyll didn’t know what to say to that. He was set on his resolve, but knowing Astarion’s fears made him waver for the other man’s sake. Still, he was determined to do whatever he could to save them both, and if any of the gods were on his side, then justice would prevail.

Wyll took a knee in front of Astarion and offered his hand while placing his other one on his own heart. He looked up at the silver-haired man with as much sincerity and determination as he could muster. “I swear on my one good eye, Astarion, that I will do everything in my power to destroy Cazador and gift you the freedom you deserve.” A small grin grew on Wyll’s face as he continued. “After all, this eye is my only means to admire you, and I wouldn’t trade that gift for the world.”

Astarion blushed at the romantic declaration, but he still couldn’t let himself accept this. He ripped his hand away as he scolded the officer. “Will you stop this, Wyll?! You’re no good to anyone if you’re dead! Just leave me be. I’ve been stuck in this hell for long enough. I can endure it just fine.”

“But you shouldn’t have to. You deserve better than hell, Astarion.”

The conflict in Astarion’s eyes was wavering. He looked down at Wyll and groaned before walking over to the mattress and taking a heavy seat on the thing. A cloud of dust shot up at the impact, swirling Astarion in a mist that made him look like a specter. Wyll walked over and took a softer seat on the opposite end of the mattress.

Astarion interlaced his fingers and rested his forehead on his hands and his elbows on his knees. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean that something can’t be done.” “He’s not only a monster, Wyll. He’s also intelligent and manipulative to a terrifying degree. The brute loves to torture those he keeps around him with that clever mind of his, and he has eyes everywhere, always watching and all knowing.”

They sat in silence for a long, tense moment. The dusty air was charged, waiting for a voice to cut through the thick silence. Eventually, Astarion was the one to break it. “It’s how he trapped me, after all.”

“Can I… May I ask how you became… involved with Cazador?” Wyll asked hesitantly. Maybe it was a self-serving question, but he still didn’t understand how a lawyer ended up working the streets for a man like Cazador.

Astarion sighed, but didn’t seem to refuse the question. He slightly raised his head as he told Wyll the story of how he ended up here. 

“It started fifteen years ago. I was a student who had just passed the bar and was having trouble finding work for myself at a firm. I had all the confidence in the world, but it seemed that being full of oneself was not a quality most firms wanted in a young attorney. They were all a bunch of cowards that wanted someone they could step on, but they could see that I was too sure of myself to be that for them. Still, it meant that no one would hire me and I was broke. Six months into my search, I ended up at an event where I first met Cazador. It was some public function at a firm I hadn’t interviewed with yet. I went, hoping to find someone to charm into giving me an interview or a job, but I ran into Cazador instead. Actually, it was more like he ran into me. He must’ve seen me from across the room and took a liking to me or something because he brought me a drink that I took but certainly didn’t drink from. We chatted for a few minutes and I could tell he liked me, and so when he offered me a position with his legal team, I took the chance. I thought that he wasn’t so bad looking, and I could use that pathetic crush of his to work my way up his ranks.

“Cazador’s legal team focused on a great deal of his business ventures, but a prominent issue Cazador found himself dealing with was lawsuits. That’s where I came in. I was put on the team that dealt with such affairs and was the face in the courtroom that won a great deal of money for the Szarr Corporation. I was damned good at my job, but apparently, I was a little too good. I made quite a few enemies amongst my opposition, including one crude family known as the Gur. One night, on my way home from work, I was ambushed and beaten within a near inch of my life by the savages, then left to die on the street corner. I called the police and was taken to a hospital, but when they asked for someone to list as an emergency contact, I couldn’t think of anyone. I wasn’t on good terms with my family and I had only one acquaintance back from law school, but she was a friend I saw mainly to complain and drink with. Jenevelle wasn’t the kind of friend I would lean on for anything serious.

“Eventually, I thought of Cazador’s little crush on me, and like a fool, I listed him as the contact. Surprisingly, he actually showed up to retrieve me from the hospital. He offered me a room in his manor in order to protect me from any other attacks, and mentioned I should rest for a while and take a break from work until I recovered. I saw the opportunity to have a benefactor that would spoil me if I played my cards right, so like the young, opportunistic boy I was, I took advantage of the deal and agreed to his terms.

“In those first few weeks, Cazador tried to make passes at me and bought me all sorts of gifts. I took them and let him keep up his fantasy that I liked him as well, and eventually I played into it. After a couple months of working from the manor and having my own room, we eventually began a… relationship together. My foolish self thought that I had found a meal ticket and that this was everything I needed, but oh, how wrong I was.

“It was after about a year of this blissful fantasy that Cazador wanted to try something new in the bedroom. He said he wanted to invite other people to participate, and that he wanted to watch. I thought it was just a simple voyeur or cuck kink that he wanted to get out of his system, so I was fine with it the first time. Some rich friend of his came, and he and I did the deed as Cazador watched. Afterwards, he bought me something nice as a treat for doing so well. I think that first gift was a new pair of shoes… Then he wanted to do it again with someone new. It felt uncomfortable, but I went along with it, and earned another gift when it was done. Then the third time he wanted to do it, I told him I didn’t feel comfortable anymore. When I tried to decline, he told me that with everything he had done for me, this was the least I could do for him. I wasn’t really in a position to argue because he was right. I had let myself become his little pet, and so I went along with it.

“That same cycle continued for a few months, and eventually I grew sick of it. I told Cazador I was done and wanted to go back to the office to work. If he wouldn’t let me, then I would quit and find a job somewhere else. I wanted my independence back, but Cazador told me that no one would hire me, not after being such a good whore for him those last few months. It turned out that everyone that he had invited over for our little sessions had been some powerful figurehead from around the city, and that they all thought I was Cazador’s little toy. He made sure to share me around so that no one would ever take me seriously in this city again, and so, I had been played for the naive brat that I was. Gods, I still remember Cazador’s last words from that conversation: ‘who would want a lawyer that was so much more suited to being under the desk rather than behind it?’”

Astarion looked to Wyll, trying to laugh off such a disgusting comment with a distressed smile, but Wyll only watched Astarion in despair. He couldn’t believe how much worse Cazador could become. Everything Wyll had known so far seemed trivial and surface level as he listened to Astarion’s story. Astarion ignored the pitiful look and continued on.

“Even if I had left, Cazador made sure that I would never be able to take care of myself again, but if I stayed, he told me he would treat me well so long as I did what I was told, so that’s how he forced me to continue to work under him. He wouldn’t let me leave the manor at that point, not after he revealed his true intentions, but he would occasionally give me some legal paperwork to do so I could pretend to have a job. None of it was of any importance though. It was only to give me a distraction, and I knew that, whether or not I wanted to admit it. Eventually, after another year had passed, Cazador wanted me to go out onto the streets for him. I told him I refused since he already made me enough of a whore as it was. He told me that either I could go onto the streets and do his bidding, or I could stay locked up in his room until I was ready. I figured that the devil I knew would be better than the devil I didn’t, but that was a mistake. I ended up being chained to his bed and used for three weeks before he finally gave me the choice again, and I decided the streets couldn’t be nearly as terrible as what Cazador would continue to do to me in that accursed room. It wasn’t long before I tried to escape one night while I was away from the manor, but Cazador caught me and brought me home. He had a special punishment in mind for that little affair, though I can only assume he had already thought of it ages before and was waiting for the day he got to use it on me.”

Astarion turned his back to Wyll and lifted his flowy blouse over his head. Wyll was horrified at the scar that he saw on Astarion’s back. The massive swirl of a scar was terrifying, and the details carved into it only added to its brutality. “He carved it over the course of a night, some poem or mark of his. It was to remind me of who I belonged to.” Astarion turned back to his normal sitting position, leaving his shirt off to the side. It wasn’t worth trying to hide the mark anymore. “That was my first mistake. Then came that sweet boy, the one that took my heart ten years ago. I met him while I was out one night and refused to bring him back to the manor. I was a little too overzealous though and Cazador eventually found out about him. When I learned that Cazador knew, I tried to take him and run away, but I was naive to think that we could find a way to be together. Cazador of course caught us at the edge of the city and forced me to watch that poor boy be mutilated. Cazador didn’t outright kill him, but gods… I wish he would’ve. He was unrecognizable by the end of it, and Cazador had him sold off afterwards to who knows. That was the end of his punishment and the beginning of mine. After Sebastian was gone, Cazador brought me back to my quarters. Every gift he had ever given me was thrown on a pile on the floor. Every piece of clothing, every book, every jewel, it was all in that one pile. Cazador came up from behind me, gave me a matchbox, and told me to burn it all. I didn’t have the heart to fight him, not at that point, and so I did as he told me. It was his reminder that I truly had nothing. Everything I had, everything I was, it was all only an extension of Cazador. He had the power to give me whatever I wanted, but he also had the power to take it all away whenever he desired.

“That was my last true attempt at escape. I’ve pissed Cazador off here and there during the ten years since, but for the most part, I’ve only been his unruly pet. His favorite captive.”

Wyll was shocked. He didn’t know what to say to any of this. It made him sick to think of all that Astarion had endured at the hands of the beast. He never wanted justice to strike Cazador down more than he did at that moment.

Wyll managed to contain himself though and asked a follow up question. “Is that how the other six ended up trapped under him as well?”

“Gods no, I was the only one unfortunate enough to end up that personally tied to Cazador. The others were all promised something by Cazador that they couldn’t refuse. He offered Violet a successful singing career, Dalyria full tuition to medical school, things like that. Then there are the ones like Petras and Yousen who I think signed up for this hell, thinking that it would be a better deal than it turned out to be. They’re so eager to serve Cazador though, I wonder if they envy me at times.” Astarion tried to laugh at his cruel, dark joke, but it was too forced. “He made us all offers we couldn’t refuse, then broke us until there was nowhere else for us to go. The only way we’d be free of him now is if someone killed the bastard, but he’s made sure that none of us ever could. As much as I dream about it, he’s too powerful.”

All Wyll wanted to do was reach out and hug Astarion, though that was more for his sake than for Astarion’s. Instead, he offered his hand on the mattress in between the two of them. Astarion looked at it with a sigh and placed his hand on top. “Do you really think after hearing my tragic backstory that there is anything that you can do against him?”

“I do.” Wyll said with full sincerity. He didn’t know what it was, but the fire that was fueled by Astarion’s despair made him want to do anything and everything to slay Cazador.

“Really? And what’s that?”

“I don’t know yet, but I will do everything in my power to destroy him and make him suffer.”

Astarion laughed a bit as he leaned forward and rested his head on his hand, supported by his elbow on his knee still. “Wyll, you’re a hopeless optimist.”

Wyll moved a touch closer towards Astarion. “I may be.” The two looked at each other and there was a tension in the air, slowly drawing them towards one another. It felt like there was a string that was pulling them towards each other, almost like the pull of two magnets that are being forced to stay away from one another. Wyll did his best to resist, but all he wanted to do now was make Astarion feel loved and cherished and most importantly, safe. Even if it was only for a moment in this dingy room. It took everything he had not to reach out and cradle Astarion’s face in his hands as he looked longingly at his companion.

This was all too dangerous, too stupid. They shouldn’t be this close, not with what could happen to them, but Wyll couldn’t resist his heart. Cazador, as much of a monster as he was, could never sway his true feelings away from Astarion. Nothing could. As new and naive as it was, Wyll’s heart wanted nothing more than to burst with affection and the desire to know and love Astarion, even if it meant certain doom tomorrow. All Wyll could do was hope that Astarion shared a similar sentiment, despite every fear he held deep in his heart.

“May I kiss you?” Wyll finally asked, forcing himself to stay in place instead of leaning any closer. Astarion looked at him and took a second to decide for himself. His contemplation didn’t last long as he answered Wyll firmly: “Yes.”

With the softest touch, Wyll took Astarion’s face in his hand and pulled him in. Astarion let himself be held, much to Wyll’s relief. The kiss itself… it put every other kiss Wyll had ever felt to shame. Even the ones with Astarion that had left him warm and fuzzy and on cloud nine. There was so much relief from that tension as their lips touched along with the exhilaration and fear of what they were doing. Wyll’s hand that was on the mattress moved to pull Astarion closer by the small of his back, and Astarion’s hands found their way to rest on Wyll’s thigh and the center of his back as well.

The kiss only broke for a second as Wyll looked at Astarion through hazy, lidded eyes and saw that the conflict that had been present in Astarion’s gaze was gone. He was here and present, even if a bit tired and shaken from reliving his past. Still, it seemed that the kiss proved a welcome distraction. Wyll pulled him in for another one, exhaling a deep, satisfied breath as Astarion’s lips reciprocated the touch and his mouth opened ever so slightly to welcome Wyll in.

After a few minutes deep in the kiss, Astarion pushed Wyll back onto the mattress and straddled his lap. He unzipped Wyll’s jacket and got Wyll to take off his hoodie. As Astarion went to strip Wyll of his shirt, Wyll grabbed Astarion’s hands gently to pause him. “Hold on.”

“What’s wrong?” Astarion asked, a bit confused.

“I just don’t want to rush things. I’d like to go slow, if that’s alright.”

Astarion scoffed and sat back on Wyll’s lap. “Wyll, Cazador tracks my location. The normal timeframe for someone to break down that door is around four in the morning, but it’s never consistent. Someone could walk in that door at any moment, and if we’re caught, we are both as good as dead, if you’ve already forgotten that fact. Knowing all of that, you still want to take things slow?”

“Yes,” Wyll said, bringing a hand up to caress Astarion’s cheek. “It might be naive, but whatever this is between us, I want to explore it at our own pace, not the one that Cazador demands.”

“This might be the only night we ever have.” Astarion rebutted. “Well, it may be a bit idealistic and romanticized, but every night could be our last. Instead, I would rather hope that we’ll have more nights like this, to be close to one another and explore things at our own tempo.”

Astarion smiled down at Wyll, though Wyll couldn’t tell if it was in amusement or in appreciation. He pulled the hem of Wyll’s t-shirt back down and placed his hands on his chest. “Alright, well then what would you like to do?”

“Well… what would you like?” Wyll asked in response. Astarion looked at him blankly, as if he had never heard the question before. He thought for a moment, then finally spoke. “I’m not sure, to be perfectly honest. Maybe… We could just lay here? Just to start?”

“I would love that.” Wyll smiled at Astarion and spread his arms out on the mattress, opening them for Astarion to fall into. Astarion slowly and tentatively made his way to lie in Wyll’s arms and let himself be gently embraced by the younger man. He was still tense, but he began to take deep breaths and slightly relax. He brought the arm not trapped under his body weight around Wyll’s torso and placed his hand on Wyll’s side. Wyll’s hand that was wrapped around Astarion found its way into Astarion’s hair, and Wyll was entranced by how soft it was. He had always admired it, ever since they first met, and yet it somehow was even softer and silkier than he could’ve imagined.

“Mmn,” Astarion hummed, melting into the touch. Wyll paused and lifted his hand away from Astarion’s scalp. “I’m sorry, was that bad?”

“No… it was nice. Just don’t muss up my hair…” Wyll hesitantly placed his hand back on the back of Astarion’s head and continued to pet him. It was funny, Astarion almost purred like a cat as he gently nuzzled into Wyll’s chest and into his hand. Wyll’s other hand pulled over one of the nearby blankets to drape over them. There was a chill in the air that became more present in the midst of the warmth between the two men, and so the thin, ratty fabric was a welcome addition. Once they were a bit more comfortable, Wyll brought his spare hand around to rest on the arm Astarion had draped over his torso, appreciating the coolness of Astarion’s skin. Their legs intertwined under the thin sheet, and after only a moment, they had already settled into this new comfort. All the tension from earlier seemed to disappear as Astarion rested his head on Wyll’s strong chest, savoring the soft rise and fall of Wyll’s breathing.

They lied like that for what felt like ages. Wyll checked his watch after a while and saw it was just five minutes after one in the morning. “Honestly,” Astarion interrupted Wyll’s train of thought. “I have no idea what we’re doing, but this?” He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at Wyll, bringing a hand to hold Wyll’s cheek now. “This is nice.” The small, warm smile on Astarion’s face as he spoke melted Wyll’s heart. It was the most vulnerable expression he could recall seeing on Astarion’s face since they met. Wyll let himself be pulled in for another gentle kiss before Astarion rested his head on Wyll’s chest once more, melting again into the pets that Wyll offered him. 

The two stayed like that for another hour, Wyll’s hand resting in Astarion’s hair and Astarion’s hand tracing up and down Wyll’s side, never quite going below the hip bone. No words were spoken as the two took their moment of blissful silence, something that was an oddity in both of their worlds. The hand in Astarion’s hair eventually trailed down a bit and began to gently rub Astarion’s shoulder, but Wyll was hesitant to go anywhere near his scars. He didn’t know if they hurt or could be sensitive, and he didn’t want to ruin Astarion’s bliss by pushing what could be an uncomfortable subject.

As if Astarion had read his thoughts, he mumbled, “it’s alright, love. Just be careful with your nails. I don’t like being scratched there.”

Wyll took the instruction to heart and gently let the palm of his hand slide down Astarion’s bare back, taking in the map of raised scar tissue like he was reading it through braille. The texture was odd, but the fact that Astarion had allowed himself to be vulnerable with a wound so deep made Wyll want to bring the other man closer. He held him just a bit tighter as he continued to explore the terrain of Astarion’s back with his fingerpads, then brought his hand back into his hair to continue petting him. It felt like a safer gesture, though Wyll was glad to be able to explore Astarion’s body at a safe, welcome pace.

After a while, Wyll began to fight off the temptation of sleep for the both of them. At one point, he heard soft snores coming from Astarion, who had lost that battle. Wyll smiled as he watched his companion rest. Astarion looked at peace for the first time that Wyll could ever recall. His breaths were long and steady, rising and falling at a blissful pace, and his expression had softened as well. Most of the creases that were likely from stress nearly vanished in his sleep along his brow and around his mouth. Wyll was glad to know that Astarion felt safe enough to rest in his arms, even if they had only known each other for a few weeks. It was like earning the trust of a stray cat, inviting it into your home and earning its trust in order for it to stay and feel welcome. Hopefully the erratic beat of Wyll’s heart from all his excitement didn’t disturb his slumber.

As much as he cherished the moment, Wyll slowly returned back to reality with every tick of his watch. When his watch struck two in the morning, Wyll nudged Astarion awake, surprised to find that Astarion was a heavy sleeper. It took a couple nudges before the pale fellow was roused from his slumber. “Bwuh…?” He mumbled, his eyes still not quite open. He lifted his head as his vision came into focus. Though he specifically asked for it to be kept tidy, his hair was horribly disheveled thanks to Wyll. Wyll couldn’t help but think how charming it was to see Astarion without his perfectly coiffed hair for once, almost like a younger version of himself. It was fluffy and frazzled with curls sticking out in all directions. The tired man looked to Wyll, then suddenly, he snapped completely awake. He shot upright as he asked Wyll for the time.

“Just after two,” Wyll answered. Astarion calmed a bit realizing there was still time, but he was now completely awake. He cradled his head in his hand as he tried to settle from the sudden shock. “I must’ve been a bit more tired than I thought…”

“Did you know that you snore?” Wyll asked with a smile.

“How dare you? I do not!” Astarion said, offended at the notion. Wyll chuckled a bit. “Don’t worry, it was soft and sweet, like a kitten resting in a sunbeam.” “Ugh…” Astarion groaned as he sat up and grabbed his shirt. Wyll took one more look at the massive swirling of scars that marked Astarion’s back. It was a hell of a symbol to mark someone with. He didn’t want to imagine how long and agonizing the process must’ve been.

“You should probably leave soon, my love. Normally, if I don’t message Cazador before a certain time, he sends someone to come fetch me earlier, just to make sure I’m not in any trouble or haven’t gotten up to anything.”

“You send him messages?” Wyll asked.

“Yes, typically after I’ve found a client for the evening. That way Cazador knows that we’re properly doing our jobs.”

“Do you know what he does with your… clients, after they’re picked up?”

“Honestly, I haven’t a clue. They’re taken somewhere in the manor, and I can only assume they’re dead or sold to some of Cazador’s friends.”

“I see… Have you ever heard of a place called the Tourmaline Depths?” “I can’t say that I have. Why do you ask?”

“It’s some hidden cave that Donnela Szarr found nearly a century ago now. There was a rumor that it was hidden beneath the Szarr Manor. I just thought that if there was any truth to it, there may be something to that place.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint my love, but I’ve never heard of such a thing in all my time stuck in that gauche palace.”

“I see,” Wyll sat up on the mattress and grabbed his own hoodie to zip back up. Afterwards, he pulled out his brown, leather wallet. Astarion looked at him curiously as Wyll rifled through his bills. “What are you doing?”

“Well, so you don’t have to go back empty handed tonight, I want to leave you with something.” “So you’re buying my services?” Astarion asked, bemused.

“It’s more like a gift for someone dear to me.” Wyll pulled out all the cash in his wallet and handed it to Astarion. As Astarion flipped through the wrinkled bills, Wyll got to his feet. “So my love and affection are worth a mere eighty five dollars in your book?”

Wyll turned to look at Astarion, who was still sitting on the mattress with his bedhead. “To me, I think you and your affection are worth the world.” Astarion blushed at the sappy words, then looked back to the cash he held. “Honestly, you put my own lines to shame. I could never have the heart to say something so disgustingly sweet.” Wyll smiled as he made his way to the fire escape. As he opened the window to step outside, he heard that soft, charming voice call behind him.

“Wyll.”

He turned and saw Astarion had stood up to come give him a proper goodbye. His shirt was untucked, flowing loosely like a night shirt around his tight black pants, and his mussed up hair bounced as he took each step. Astarion put a hand on the side of Wyll’s face with the eyepatch and deep scratches that have officially left a faint scar and placed a kiss on his damaged cheek. When he moved back to meet Wyll’s eyes, he left him with a compliment of his own: “I understand the need for discretion, but you look much more handsome without the eyepatch.” Wyll’s heart skipped a beat and he couldn’t resist pulling Astarion in for one more passionate kiss, which was thankfully met with a similar enthusiasm. It didn’t last long, but Wyll kissed Astarion deeply with that same tension from earlier creeping in and creating an urgency to reveal all feelings of adoration just through the touch of lips. After a moment, he reluctantly released his love to make his escape out the window and down the fire escape like some charming rogue out of a romantic fantasy novel. When he reached the street, he looked back up to the window and saw Astarion watching over him from above with his adorably messy hair and a smile that could light up the entire Bay of Balduran. Wyll smiled up at him as he walked down the alley, making his way home for the evening. Whatever punishments Mizora had for Wyll for failing again tonight, Wyll thought he could handle anything she threw at him as long as he kept this warmth in his heart. With Astarion’s affection and this surge of what he could only assume was the feeling of love blossoming, Wyll could take on the world.

[pearlypairings]

welcome to my page :)

I am Pearly_Pairings on AO3—typically I write fic for Stranger Things with the occasional dive into Twin Peaks for shits and gigs! I adore reading/writing tropes like opposites attract, tooth-rotting fluff, and tons of comfort. I've compiled most of of my fics, drabbles, and moodboards here :)

Updated 8/30/24 ✍️

Stranger Things- Eddie x Chrissy

✨so much (for) stardust stardust-inspired || mild angst to fluffy ending || 5.5k one-shot 💐 In the Shade of Aurelias  chrissy-centric || fantasy/nobility au || WIP 9/? || updated 2/2/24 ⚰️ all good dates at the cemetery chrissy POV || heavy angst, happy ending || inspired by that smallville cemetery scene || 3k one-shot 🍃 not a sound, but the wind  hurt/comfort || no vecna/upside down au || completed- 19k wc 🎨 painting (a masterpiece):  established relationship || fluff/comfort; first apartment || 4k one-shot 📜 Dear Donna,  chrissy POV || penpal letter format || canon divergent/fix-it|| completed- 8.5k wc 🧮 Meet Me at Our Spot  library meet-cute || no vecna-upside down, fast-burn || 10k one-shot 🌧️Open the Sky and Let Her Come Down  sleepover/crush confessional || pining, friends to lovers || completed- 10k wc 🤘 Do or Die  S4 fix-it || slow-burn, hurt/comfort || completed- 61k wc 

Stranger Things- Jonathan x Chrissy

📸 there is a light that never goes out  jonathan-centric || no upside-down au, slow burn || completed- 51k wc

active wip!💡 Let the Light In (sequel to TIAL ^^) chrissy-centric || still a slow burn baby, angsty, happy ending || wip ch 3/?|| 8/29/24

photocheer moodboards and blurbs:)

Stranger Things- Steve x Chrissy

🍸 The Coast is Clear - inspired by this post country club shenanigans || friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluffy first kiss || 5.5k one-shot

Stranger Things- Patrick x Chrissy

active wip!burnin' through the darkest night patrick-centric || next door neighbors, angst & a whole lot of pining babes || wip ch3/? || 6/25/24 patrick x chrissy moodboard

Stranger Things Series 🧮

Letters from Max Mayfield : collection of letters written by Max to her family & the Party based on canon S4 hellcheer word prompt series: drabbles and ficlets in response to monthly word/phrase prompts, like party crashing, tattoo, sewing

Coming Soon✨: charlie's angels au for Nancy, Chrissy and Robin 🔫💋🔊

☕Coffee and Contemplation ST x Twin Peaks || Agent Cooper POV || supernatural mystery || on hiatus; last updated 2.5.23 🔥🔥 Twin Flames Divided laura & audrey || canon compliant, complicated friendship, angst || 2.5k one-shot

Masterlist of 2024 Birthday Prompts tumblr event

various ST pairings: hellcheer, photocheer, clarkelley, stali, platonic stobin

12 days of birthday-themed prompts

drabbles, ficlets, and fics depending on the prompt :)

*will be updated as more is added!*

[auxiliarydetective]

So, the Aurelia fic is finally done and you can find the full fic here!

After that darker story, I decided to go the completely opposite direction and write some tooth-rotting fluff for my baby Lily! So, here's her first meeting with Sanji!

Anything Fun

“No cause for alarm, folks,” the waiter said in a sharp tone, hand in one pocket as he crossed the dining room. “Please, enjoy your meals.”

He finally stopped at the table of Luffy and his friends, placing the plate of buns he had brought in front of them.

“Hi! Welcome to our shitty restaurant, where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food,” he hissed, meanwhile looking bored out of his mind. “My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?”

“One of everything, please,” Luffy replied, already stuffing his face with the buns.

“Any drinks? One of our signature cocktails to help you choke down your meal?”

“Giving us the hard sell, huh?” Nami sneered.

But when Sanji looked at her, his demeanor suddenly changed. A smug smile was plastered on his face and the aggressive tone from his voice was gone.

“Apologies, madam, I didn’t see you there. Would you care for an apéritif to start?”

Nami just blinked in confusion and her companions were none the wiser. Was he… flirting with her?

“We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock. Or perhaps you’d like a glass of Umeshu? You know, somethin’ sweet for someone sweet,” he suggested with a wink.

Oh, he was flirting with her, wasn’t he?

“Something wrong with your eye?” Nami asked, lacking a better comeback.

“Just blinded by your beauty.”

Luckily, Zoro was unwilling to put up with any more of this tomfoolery, and he cleared his throat to get the waiter’s attention.

“Waiter, can I get a beer and something for my friends?”

“Two beers,” Usopp joined in. “I usually have three but—”

“And a milk!” Luffy interrupted.

“Three beers and a milk and, uh, for madam?”

“Water – and listen, we’re still waiting for one more person, so if you could—”

“Really?” A familiar voice called, making Sanji jump.

Lily had just appeared next to him, and she was probably too small for him to spot as even her tall ears didn’t even reach up to his shoulders.

“I thought it was just us,” she grinned, her tail wagging happily from side to side.

“It is just us,” Zoro grumbled, just before being completely caught off guard by Lily hopping into his lap to climb across the bench behind the table, nearly hitting him in the face with her tail multiple times. In fact, he almost had to sneeze from how close the fuzzy hairs were to his nose.

“What took you so long?” Usopp asked as she settled down between him and Nami. “I was already worried you’d fallen into the sea.”

“Oh, I almost did. – One of the ships here has a fox for a figurehead, can you believe it?”

“Did you talk to it?” Luffy blurted out.

Lily just scoffed. “I’m not actually an animal. Besides, figureheads can’t talk. Only Klabautermänner can.”

“Lily,” Nami said softly, tapping her on the shoulder, “do you wanna order something to drink?”

“Yeah!” Lily agreed, turning around to look at Sanji, who, much to the pirates’ surprise, had changed his demeanor yet again.

“And what would the young lady like?” He asked with a gentle smile. “Maybe some hot chocolate?”

Immediately, Lily gasped in excitement. But Usopp cut her off.

“No– no, she can’t have that.”

“Why not?!” Lily protested.

“Because it’ll kill you.”

“Oh bother,” she grumbled, pulling her legs up to her chest and pouting.

“So, you have special dietary needs?” Sanji asked, still smiling and still talking to Lily instead of Usopp. “What is it that you can’t have?“

“Anything fun.”

“Basically anything dogs can’t have,” Zoro mumbled.

“More or less,” Usopp agreed. “Grapes and raisins, chocolate, macadamias, walnuts, tomatoes, dairy, onions, garlic… Well, and caffeine and alcohol, but she’s too young to have those anyway.”

“Anything fun, huh?” Sanji chuckled. “Well, then I have something for you,” he said, lowering himself to Lily’s eye level. “What if I could make you hot chocolate that’s completely safe for you to drink?”

As soon as he had finished talking, Lily’s eyes lit up with sparkles – and it almost seemed like the air around her was sparkling too. “Really?!”

“Yeah! Just give me a few minutes. It’ll be good, I promise. Does that sound nice?”

Lily nodded eagerly. So, Sanji’s smile grew even wider and he headed off to the kitchen.

“What a creep,” Nami mumbled.

“He’s not creepy!” Lily disagreed. “He’s nice! Look at him going through all that trouble for me.”

“Lily, I am so glad that you’re too young to understand.” Nami gently ran her fingers through Lily’s hair, then over her ears, causing her to quietly purr. “You’re right, he’s nice to you.”

“And he’s a great fighter!” Luffy added. “What a great guy!”

“That’s your criteria?” Usopp questioned. “He gives you food and he can fight?”

“Yeah!”

“And that’s new how exactly?” Zoro commented.

A few minutes later, Sanji returned with a tray of drinks, serving Nami first, then the boys…

“And finally, for our little princess.”

He placed a mug in front of her with a bright smile on his face. The mug itself was ornate and what was inside it looked exactly like hot chocolate. It smelled almost the same, too! Sitting atop the foam was a little, foamy figure of a fennec fox.

“Soy milk, a dash of vanilla, and vegan marshmallows. And the chocolate is made using a special fruit that grows on an island in the Grand Line. It tastes just the same but without the toxins that make chocolate poisonous to some people. They call it the chocolate fruit because of that.”

“Wow!” Lily gasped. “The Grand Line really is a great place, huh?”

“Yeah!” Luffy agreed. “And we’re going there!”

“Maybe you can find the fruit yourself then, huh?” Sanji grinned. “Try it, it’s good. But be careful not to burn yourself, alright?”

Lily nodded and quickly took a sip of the hot chocolate. Immediately, her eyes lit up again.

“It’s perfect!”

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you, sir!”

Sanji laughed. “No honorifics, please, just Sanji is fine. – Enjoy your drinks!”

With that, he was off to the kitchen again, but he threw Lily a kind glance over his shoulder on his way back multiple times.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄✼▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @supermarine-silvally - let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

[moxtoons]

Hi there!Just a question: Is the angle version henchmen is you're OC I can't tell. 😅 (I have my own CH OC named Aurelia which she's the counterpart of Henchmen.The angle version of him.Mine is different though.Plz don't kill me. 🥲🫠💀)

Oh! Nah that's just Henchman as an angel! It's just an AU I had 😊

Aw, I don't mind people having OCs with similar aspects! creation is about having fun and people are bound to make designs/art with similarities, it's just how it is! Great minds think alike, am i right? lol

Rest assured, I would never immediately assume someone deliberately ripped off any idea i had, especially when I know Angel/Cherub Henchmen are pretty common in the CH space 💛

I'd love to see your OC! I'm sure she's beautiful!

[https-lawrenceslittleone]

Hey gaymers I know y’all genuinely do not care but I’m really bored so!!! Here’s my PJO OCs as songs!! PART ONE 😈😈😈

AURELIA LUTHER (Daughter of Zeus):

-Consequences by Lovejoy

“What’s this? The consequences of my actions, now.”

-Cherry Bomb by The Runaways

“Hello, daddy! Hello, mom! I’m your ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!”

-Everywhereigo by Babyxsosa

“Everywhere I go, they all know my name!”

INDRA PRUITT (Son of Poseidon)-

-Line Without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery

“You’re a pond, and I’m an ocean!”

-Fireflies by Owl City

“You would not believe your eyes, if ten million fireflies, lit up the world as I fell asleep!”

-Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos

“There will come a soldier, who carries a mighty sword…”

FLORALINE SAMPSON (Daughter of Demeter)-

-despair by leo.

“It’s not romantic, I swear! I’m not gasping for air!”

-Nobody by Mitski

“And I don’t want your pity, I just want somebody near me.”

-Oh Distant You by Wilbur Soot

“What the hell could I say, when you’re two stars from grace, and the world, it turns for you?”

PETRA HANSLEY (Daughter of Ares)-

-Boys Will Be Bugs by Cavetown

“Don’t mess with me, I’m a big boy now, and I’m very scary!”

-You’ll Understand When You’re Older by Lovejoy

“Said I’d understand when I’m older. Said I’d understand the things they’d do.”

-Glass Chalet by Wilbur Soot

“Yes, I’m sorry for what I was saying about you. Believe me, well, I’m being really serious here.”

THEODOSIA COLLYMOR (Daughter of Athena)-

-Bag of Bones by Mitski

“I’m all used up, pretty boy.”

-Are You Satisfied? by Marina

“Are you satisfied, with an average life?”

-Since I Saw Vienna by Wilbur Soot

“I’m not a man of substance, so I’ll pretend.”

STERLING SHELTON (Son of Apollo)-

-Faggot by Mindless Self Indulgence

“I’ve been denied all the best ultra sex!”

-Surfin’ Dead by The Cramps

“Ah, my favorite brain soup; cream of nowhere!”

-Oh Yeah, You Gonna Cry? by Lovejoy

“I quite like your girlfriend! How the fuck she end up with you?!”