#dark elf fic

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - Aemond Targaryen

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series.

☾⋆⁺₊✧ Summary: A taint twists through the kingdoms of man and elf, killing all life in its wake. Your father, a brilliant mind, had worked tirelessly for a solution to fight that evil. However, you are left shouldering the burden of his research after he mysteriously disappears.

A newfound companion lands you a position working under the watchful eye of elf healers. You struggle to hold yourself together in the dark woodland kingdom of elves ruled by their merciless king - Aemond Targaryen. Secrets breed more secrets, and figuring out who to trust is more difficult than ever - especially when you cannot even trust yourself.

It is a race to find a cure while unravelling the secret behind your father's disappearance, the origin of the taint, and the troubling stirrings in your heart caused by the elf king. The impending war between humans and elves drives tensions further, casting a dark veil over your endeavours.

Moreso, when death itself seems to come knocking upon your door.

☾⋆⁺₊✧ Chapters:

Chapter 1: The Laws of Humans and Elves Chapter 2: A Modest Proposition Chapter 3: A Study in Death Chapter 4: A Night of Song and Dance Chapter 5: The Young Elf Chapter 6: A Snake in the Garden °｡⋆˚⁺ September 27 Chapter 7: The Dark Woods Deep ⁺˚⋆｡° October 4 Chapter 8: Marked Flesh °｡⋆˚⁺ October 11 Chapter 9: Home and Hearth ⁺˚⋆｡° October 18 Chapter 10: The Art of Potion Making °｡⋆˚⁺ October 25 Chapter 11: A New Ally ⁺˚⋆｡° November 1 Chapter 12: Death's Sting °｡⋆˚⁺ November 8 Chapter 13: Of Taverns and Bathhouses ⁺˚⋆｡° November 15 Chapter 14: The Saphire °｡⋆˚⁺ November 22 Chapter 15: Know Your Enemies ⁺˚⋆｡° November 29 Chapter 16: Every Little Thing °｡⋆˚⁺ December 6 Chapter 17: The Winds of War ⁺˚⋆｡° December 13 Chapter 18: Past, Present, and Future °｡⋆˚⁺ December 20 Chapter 19: The Scars of Betrayal ⁺˚⋆｡° December 27 Chapter 20: An Elf's Rage °｡⋆˚⁺ January 3 Epilogue: An Elf's Devotion ⁺˚⋆｡° January 10

☾⋆⁺₊✧ Content warning: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, mentions of alcohol consumption, and Criston Cole (yikes).

☾⋆⁺₊✧ I am extremely excited to begin releasing this series! Ever since season one was released, the concept of writing an elf-based story on Aemond has been living rent-free in my head.

There will be weekly updates to this series. While I have extensive outlines for each chapter, I wish to take this at a slower pace when it comes to releasing. This way, I can balance other works on this page as well. (along with my uni coursework).

Thank you all for the support! <3

☾⋆⁺₊✧ If you want to be added to the taglist, click here!

[animatorweirdo]

Darkness and Devotion

Elf(of any choice) x Creature of the void! reader

Your lover was taken by the orcs. Seeing them hurt and bleeding causes you to break and show the true strength of your devotion to them.

Warnings: They/Them used to describe your lover, violence, injuries, black veins, sickness, eating orcs alive, and a bit of angst.

(I was hella inspired by this song. Hope you enjoy it. )

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Your sweet lover's senses were dulled when they were captured by the orcs and taken to Angband, a fortress that was the embodiment of all that is hell. Their hands and limbs were chained and cuffed. The orcs paraded them around in mockery, enjoying their pain and terror. A last show before they would take your lover to the torture chambers to snuff out their light and twist them into one of them, an abomination. Your lover’s thoughts remained on you, remembering your distressed screams and desperate attempts to reach them before orcs took them away. Your lover knew you would likely try to come for them — you felt things deeply and loyalty was part of your nature. They were the qualities your lover adored about you. However, this time, your lover hoped you would stay away. They knew how the evil of Angband and the presence of the dark lord would affect you and the darkness that haunted you from within. 

However, they were wrong about your devotion to them. 

You had come to them, secretly entered the fortress, and found them. You broke your lover’s chains and led them through the tunnels you came from. You looked sick. The medallion, given by your creator allowed you a certain amount of control, but inside Angband, its influence was weak. Your eyes were dark and black veins dressed your pale skin, threatening to break out. Your lover could sense the raging hunger you held back with all your strength, making you breathe heavily and walk nearly disoriented. It was clear to them you were at your limits, yet for them, you pushed back the instincts that threatened to take control and unleash hell. 

Watching you in pain was awful to your lover. They pleaded for you to flee as you were not thinking straight and at your limits. However, you refused, unwilling to leave them behind. 

The alarms were set when the orcs found you. In your limits yet still in incredible control, you protected your lover from raining arrows, growing what seemed to be a wing made out of black mass from your body to shield them. Your lover was taken aback as it was the first time they had seen glimpses of your true form. But you did not waste time showing any more of yourself to them and dragged them as orcs began chasing you. 

Your lover watched as you killed every orc that came in your way.  They could feel the rage and hunger in your every kill, yet you still pushed yourself to remain in control. They admired your strength but it did not ease the worry about your limits and how much you can hold back before you are driven mad by hatred and hunger. 

The entrance was right there. Your lover felt hope as freedom was right in your reach, but then you were ambushed by the orcs and captured. 

The orcs tore your lover away from you. You tried to reach out to them, screaming and struggling against the orcs who overpowered you by numbers. Your lover feebly tried to fight back when they saw the orcs striking you with maces, trying to chain and subdue you. They tried to fight back harder, but then they were hit in the head, causing them to be disoriented and feel blood run down their face. 

Your lover saw the line between control and insanity break within your eyes when you saw them bleed. It was perhaps the last straw because before your lover lost consciousness, they heard the breaking of chains and the screams of orcs filling the caverns and saw your body become something dark, consuming all the light and life. Then everything became dark. 

When your lover's senses finally returned to consciousness, they were surrounded by something. Like sensing they were awake, an orbs of light shone through the dark and they could see where they were. They were in some kind of cocoon. It was black and felt similar to the wing you used to protect them earlier. However, it felt different as it felt alive and all around them, holding them in its protective gentleness. Their ears and body were soothed by strange vibrations and sounds that were hard to describe yet caused no ill feeling. 

Your lover then finds your medallion in their hands and slowly realizes that the black mass around them and the sounds… was you. 

You have shared that your kind did not possess singular forms as you possessed no souls. That is why your true forms were unsightly and terrible compared to the forms of valar and life created by Illuvatar’s mind. Those were your words. 

You never agreed to show your true form out of fear and concern for your lover’s well-being, yet your lover found themselves unharmed and unafraid. 

The sensations that vibrated through your body and them felt like deep breaths of air and beats of a heart, which your lover found curious as you claimed your kind did not possess hearts. Your existence and body were one singularity. The orbs of light were likely lights you had consumed, now acting as lamps to comfort them. Your lover felt the sensations of your body like they were their own. They could feel your love for them, so gentle yet passionate. 

These heightened senses allowed them to sense something else outside their protective cocoon. Your body was rumbling and sounds of distant screams reached their ears. It took them a moment to realize those screams of terror belonged to the orcs and the rumbling… was your singing, terrifying yet beautiful singing. 

The song of your devotion and conviction made them feel safe within the darkness of your very form. They could not find themselves to share the terror the orcs and servants of Morgoth felt by the sight of you as your form marched through the fortress so heavily fortified yet helpless at the face of your power and song that devastated its very foundation. 

They could only embrace the medallion in their hands and the light you shared within yourself for them, just to make them feel less afraid. 

They could hear the screams. They could sense how you fed your hunger by devouring every orc and servant that dared to come in your way. They were crushed and absorbed into your body as you had no mouth. 

Your lover could only imagine the horror the dark lord himself would feel at such might. 

Your song was terrible, yet so comforting. 

When you reach the outside world, your lover can feel the air around you. Your lover was lulled into a peaceful slumber as you did not stop there. You grew wings on your back and took flight, flying into the sky and taking them away from the dark lord’s fortress. The sensation of flying and safety allowed them to finally close their eyes and rest from your shared ordeal as you took them to safety. 

When they woke up, they found themselves in a cave with all your travel bags. Your lover themself were placed on a stone bed and healed of all injuries they had sustained in Angband. It was like they were never injured in the first place. They glanced at your medallion in their hands before seeing a familiar black mass hover above them. It was like staring at a living black cloud and your lover’s eyes fell upon you after following their roots to the deeper corner of the cave. 

You were sitting on a rock in your half-formed mortal body — your true form still spread around the cave from your back. Your eyes were at their blackest your lover had ever seen them and most of your skin was covered in black-like matter. Your lover was in a state of astonishment seeing you in this form. Your mortal body looked like broken glass, unable to fix its cracks and stop the flow of what they could describe as living darkness.  

When you looked at your lover, you looked away — fear and shame in your eyes at the reality of them seeing your true form. 

It was clear to your elven lover. You were afraid of their rejection of your dark and so-called abhorred form. However, they felt neither fear nor disgust. 

Your lover rose from their stone bed and slowly approached you. You kept your head low, but when they kneeled before you, you looked at them and saw only love and acceptance in their eyes. They gently placed the medallion over your neck, returning it to its place against your chest. The medallion shone, allowing you to gain control and call back your true body. The black matter around the cave pulled back into your body, allowing you to shape back into your mortal disguise. 

After the warmth returned to your skin and your eyes returned to their original color, you looked back into your lover as they still held acceptance and love in their eyes. You wanted to break into tears as you never imagined they would accept this side of you. Releasing a heavy sniff, your lover embraced you. They placed a gentle kiss on your forehead as you wrapped your arms around them, clinging and unable to let go. Your ordeal together pushed back as you both reveled in each other’s embrace. Relief and adoration radiated from within your lover’s heart as they were prepared to write songs about your devotion to them, to share how no one should underestimate a creature of the void… 

…especially one in love. 

[angelasscribbles]

Dark Elf Chapter 8: Unexpected Discoveries

Series: Dark Elf

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Word Count: 1,213

Rating: NSFW

Warnings for this series: Lemons! 18+ only

A/N: Hahaha, this was completely unplanned and unexpected smut. The last two chapters were smut and I had not planned any more for several chapters but...well.... these characters just took the reins as they usually do lol. Enjoy!

My other stuff: Master List.

Liam crashed through the door with wild eyed panic, “Riley! Drake! What have you done?”

He tried to make sense of the sight that greeted him. Riley and Drake sat on the floor in the middle of her room. She was completely naked. A discarded blade lay next to them, coated with blood. His eyes tracked over her perfect, unmarred flesh. There was no wound. Drake was clothed but seemed unharmed.

That didn’t change the fact that there was blood dripped on the floor between them and clinging to the dagger. The dress he had left for her mere hours ago lay in two separate halves on the other side of the room. But he didn’t need any of that to tell him something had happened. Something that had shifted the balance of power in the palace.

He had felt it.

It was what had sent him flying out of a council meeting and through the palace hallways, knocking servants aside as he ran.

As the ringing in his ears subsided, he realized anyone walking by in the hall could see in. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, trying to calm his breathing. “Could one of you please tell me what’s happening? What did I just feel?”

Riely scrambled to her feet and drew closer to him, eyes glittering with curiosity, “What did you feel halfling?”

“I…don’t know…it was like something was ripped away from me…” his eyes went to Drake, “and then I felt a new bond, a stronger bond snap into place but it wasn’t with me!” His eyes found Riley’s, wide with confusion and anger, “Why am I feeling things that happen to you and what the hell did you do to my spell breaker?”

“Ohhh, this is an unexpected development!” Riley cocked her head to the side, curiously. “You gave your blood willingly, and that gave me a tiny bit of your power, but a psychic bond that lasts beyond the act itself? That’s never happened before.”

Drake stumbled to his feet, holding his pants up with one hand since the fastenings had been ripped out. He stood behind Riley, facing Liam as he struggled with his own mixed emotions. “She said we could all stay together this way!”

Liam lifted his eyes to Drake’s face, then his gaze ran down to take in the torn clothing, and the other man’s position, at Riley’s side, not his. He froze as he scented the air.

They smelled of sex and blood.

Sex, blood, and something else. Something stronger. It’s why he hadn’t picked up on the sex and blood scent sooner. The smell of magic permeated the air.

Elven magic.

Shock and denial washed over him. “No!” She had used his own magic to steal Drake’s services right out from under him.

“I’m sorry, my darkling prince,” she purred as her hand reached out and ran down his chest, “but you should have bound him while you had the chance. All those wasted years.” She clucked her tongue sympathetically with a slow shake of her head.

“But I never thought—"

“That’s your problem,” she moved her still-naked body closer to him, her hand moving from his chest to snake through his hair, “Living with humans has made you soft. You shouldn’t have trusted him, and you shouldn’t have trusted me.”

“No,” Liam shook his head, “We’re friends, I didn’t need to force him—"

“You act like the bond is a thing that traps him. The bond between a spell breaker and their master keeps you both safe!”

“In what way?” Liam asked incredulously.

She scooted closer still so that their bodies were pressed firmly against each other. Her head tipped back to stare up into his eyes. “It would have prevented me from taking him, for starters.”

“You tricked me!” He tried to hold on to his indignation, but it was a losing battle. The more she touched him, the more the anger and sense of loss were pushed aside and replaced with a burning hunger so strong it made him weak.

“Stop,” he whispered as he made a feeble attempt to push her away.

“Why?” she challenged as her fingers pulled at the buttons of his Oxford shirt.

His eyes flicked back to Drake. “We can’t just—”

“We can.” She whispered as his shirt fell to the ground.

Drake shifted position, his eyes dropping quickly to the floor, but he betrayed no emotion about the scene unfolding before him.

Riley was naked and her skin flushed as she pulled Liam’s shirt deftly from his body. She raked her nails down his chest, leaving eight angry welts smeared with blood. “Look at me, not him.”

Liam’s onyx eyes went somehow even darker as he turned his gaze back to her. A cloud of lust filled magic misted into being in the air surrounding them. He sucked in a hiss of pleasure as his hand shot out and encircled her wrist, yanking her to him. All his reticence gone, he used his other hand to grab her by the hair and jerk her head back.

Riley laughed with delight as Liam attacked her with wild abandon. His mouth claimed every inch of her body, kissing, licking, sucking, and biting as his hands ran over her curves proprietarily. His voice was hoarse as he told her, “You’re mine, Riley! I’m responsible for bringing you here! I’m the one that placed the cuff on you! I tamed you, demon!”

“Am I tamed then, my prince?” She taunted as she made short work of his pants.

Her words only inflamed his passions higher. In one fluid motion, he swept her off her feet and tossed her onto the bed. Grasping a leg, he dragged her to the edge of the mattress with a growl. “Open your legs!”

She complied.

His fingers dug into her thighs hard, leaving angry black and blue blotches blooming across her pale flesh as he drove himself into her.

“Yes!” Her legs wrapped around him as her nails clawed fresh, bloody streaks across his shoulders and down his back. “Faster! Harder! Fuck me like you mean it!”

Her fangs slid out, and she buried her face in the side of his neck. A sharp thrill of pleasure and pain coursed through him as she drank deeply.

They came at the same time. Liam rammed himself into her and collapsed forward, his naked body pressed against hers, sweat and magic mingling together.

He rolled off her, panting as he stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. A low moan caught his attention and his eyes shot to Drake, whom he had all but forgotten. His former spell breaker had stood by and watched the entire thing.

Drake’s pants were tangled around his feet as his hand pumped his cock.

Their eyes locked.

Steams of hot, sticky liquid poured out of him and coated his fist as his body jerked forward, lips parted, breath ragged.

But it wasn’t Riley’s name that fell from his lips at the moment of release.

It was Liam’s.

Riley’s eyes tracked from the blissful, fucked out expression on Drake’s face to the stunned look of shock on Liam’s.

Then she threw her head back and laughed.

[crypt-tids]

A Gift Unto the King

22

Arrival

Epona huffed as Lucas tugged the brush through her long mane, paying special attention to the few tangles that had gathered at the ends. Her head bobbed, and she swung her neck around, urging him to give her chin a few scratches, before allowing him to continue brushing. Every now and then, a knot would give Lucas a bit of trouble, and the mare would shake her mane free as she grew annoyed with the persistent detangling. Lucas sweetly reassured her that he was nearly done—despite having quite a bit of grooming left to do, but she didn’t know that—and she reluctantly permitted him to finish.

“Well, well, well,” a voice approached, “I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever see you again.”

Lucas glanced up with a start, before shaking his head.

“Very funny, Remus.” Lucas replied as the dark-haired man entered the stables.

“A few more days and I might’ve sent off for a headstone.” Remus grinned, crossing his arms over his chest, watching Lucas brush the dirt and dust out of Epona’s silky, black coat.

Lucas shot a piercing glare over the mare’s back, as Remus leaned against the stall wall opposite him, his expression decidedly smug. When Lucas’s gaze didn’t soften, he cocked his head, the breadth of his grin beginning to diminish.

“What, you’re not still mad at me, are you?” Remus raised a brow. “It all worked out in the end.”

“Luckily for you.” Lucas bitterly returned his gaze to the horse. “What if it hadn’t? I could have been exiled.”

“But you weren’t.”

“I could’ve been.” Lucas’s tone lightened as he twisted the point.

“Then I would’ve gone with you.” Remus nonchalantly shrugged.

“And be a deserter?” Lucas’s eyes met Remus’s, unanticipated surprise heavily lining them. Mostly regarding the speed at which that answer had fallen from his friend’s lips, as if he didn’t have to think about it at all—or conversely, that he had thought about it, at great length, and had thoroughly committed himself to that possibility.

“There are far worse things to be.” Remus gave a lighthearted smile, the sunlight twinkling at the corner of his eye.

Lucas playfully shook his head, as he swept the brush over Epona’s buttock, a puff of dust sashaying off of the stiff bristles. A hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth as his facade cracked. He couldn’t be angry with Remus, even if he wanted to be. A bit like hating a baby duck, or a newborn kitten, he just didn’t have it in him. Especially now that he knew that Remus would willingly brand himself as a criminal for him. It was probably one of the sweetest gestures he’d ever been offered by a person he wasn’t sharing a bed with—albeit an incredibly stupid one. Even still, it warmed his heart.

Remus gave the stable a cautious glance over. The stalls appeared empty, save for the horses nibbling on their hay, and the courtyard beyond the doors seemed reasonably barren. He silently strained, listening for any stray voices, or shuffling boots, but heard none. Once thoroughly satisfied that they were alone, he leaned forward slightly to speak.

“So, how’s my godchild doing?” Remus kept his voice low, out of fear that he’d missed a prying ear.

“Fidgety.” Lucas smiled, as Remus let out a small snicker. “They’re fine.”

“And what about you?” Remus continued.

“Eh, I’d be better if I wasn’t stuck at home all the time.” Lucas joked, rubbing his palm over Epona’s soft nose, her lips longingly flapping for a carrot, which he, unfortunately, did not have. “Get’s bloody stifling sometimes, staring at the same ceiling and walls everyday. Hell, I even tried knitting.” He heartily chuckled.

“Knitting?” Remus pressed, an incredulous grin widening across his face.

“Mm-hm.” Lucas nodded. “Five coppers I wasted on that shit. It was fucking awful.”

The pair giggled together at the thought, and then, after a few moments, the laughter faded, and Lucas let out a long sigh.

“I think he worries about me too much.” Lucas’s tone dropped. “No matter how many times I insist that I’m fine… it’s like he doesn’t trust me.”

Remus’s brows creased slightly, his lips lopsidedly pressed together. Though Lucas’s eyes remained fixed on Epona, he could still see the darkened cloud swirling across the golden glass. It had weighed on him heavily, that much was plain, but in that moment, Remus found his sympathies lying elsewhere.

“Can you blame him?”

Lucas lifted his gaze, his face falling slack. As he stared into Remus’s softened eyes, his lips pressed thin.

“You gave him a good scare, mate.” Remus continued. “Scared the hell out of me, too, and I wasn’t even there.” He shook his head, his eyes falling to the hay covered ground. “When I was ordered to cover for you… when he told me what happened… gods, I’ve never seen a man tremble that way without a sword to their throat.”

A frown twitched at Lucas’s mouth, as his thumb mindlessly rubbed Epona’s jaw. She huffed lightly, then bowed her head, gently nuzzling her nose into Lucas’s curved belly. He hugged her close for a moment, graciously accepting that small amount of comfort, until she pulled away.

Lucas hadn’t known that Vin was the one who told Remus what happened. He had just assumed that the orders had trickled down, second-hand, from another member of the court, as they so often did. But Remus was there, with him, while Lucas was still lying unconscious in the infirmary. The idea of Vin being so visibly shaken over it all twisted in his stomach like a rusty knife. But he couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t change the past. And as much as he wanted to pretend things hadn’t changed, the choices he’d made, no matter how misguided or ill-informed, had changed them. Lucas clenched his jaw as his mind fumbled over every mishap of the past few months. It was no wonder why Remus understood Vin so plainly. Before Vin, it had been him. Remus was the one who had dragged him to the infirmary the first time he’d fainted, and it was Remus who had held him, and looked after him, in Widow’s Wild. He had been in the exact place that Vin stood in now, and Lucas hated himself for so easily putting them there.

“I never meant to worry anyone.” Lucas whispered shakily. “I mean that.”

Sensing the tremble in Lucas’s voice, Remus lifted his gaze. The lycan’s golden eyes had misted over, and his chin began to quiver—which he desperately fought against to little avail—and suddenly, Remus felt as though he may have sprinkled too much salt in a fresh wound.

“Whoa, hey-” Remus pushed himself off of the wall, and walked around the large black mare, towards Lucas. “Don’t cry.” His voice was gentle and kind as he pulled the sandy-haired knight close. “It’s okay, please don’t be upset about it. It’s in the past now, it doesn’t matter.”

The low, rumbling vibration of Remus’s voice radiated through Lucas’s chest, bringing with it a calming warmth—though, the words meant very little in that moment.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Remus spoke softly, still tightly clinging to the younger werewolf.

Lucas’s swollen belly gently pressed into Remus’s abs, and he couldn’t help but notice just how much it had grown in the last few weeks. Even though it was still small, it had managed to become so undeniably present.

“I didn’t mean to cry.” Lucas mumbled into Remus’s firm shoulder. “Damn kid, makes me cry over everything.”

Remus smiled lightly, stroking the back of Lucas’s head. The lycan’s body jolted against him with each breathy hitch, his fingers tightly curling into the back of Remus’s blouse.

“It seems that worrying the two of you is all I’m good for.” Lucas sniffed through a hiccupy laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Remus softly shushed. “Everything’s sorted now, isn’t it?” He felt Lucas’s head nod against him, and he let out a small, relieved, sigh.

In his arms, he held his dearest friend, a man he’d trusted with his life more times than anyone should ever have to, and in the depths of his heart, he still saw him as that strong, confident, witty man, who never bowed in defeat. But that man—that character that Lucas has so earnestly embraced—had started to fade away, leaving behind it a man far more delicate, in both body and soul.

But Remus did not pity Lucas. Far from it, in fact. Lucas’s vulnerability reminded him only of the promises he had made to keep him safe. Promises he had always been, and always would be, committed to until his dying breath.

They clung tightly to each other until voices began to carry throughout the courtyard, horse drawn carriages steadily approaching the castle. Lucas instinctively pulled away, his attention tugged towards the bustling commotion. Hastily wiping the tears from his cheeks, he cleared his throat, and Remus stiffened up, peering around the stable doors.

“Looks like the new weapons from Elvenwood just arrived,” said Remus.

Lucas shuffled up next to Remus as the carriages passed by. The wheels creaked against their axles as they bounced over the uneven ground, metal lightly clinking together in the large wooden trunks buckled to their backs.

“So it seems.” Lucas replied, with a sigh.

A long-haired elf passed the pair a disdainful glance, sending shivers up Lucas’s spine, before returning his gaze to the path ahead. He’d never thought much of elves before Carmilla arrived. But now that he had a much more intimate view into the kind of people they were—the kind of arrogance they held—he wished that he had never come to know them at all.

“With allies like that, I have a feeling it’s gonna be a hell of a war.” Remus huffed through his nose.

“Yeah…” Lucas mindlessly answered as anxiety clouded over.

Remus glanced towards Lucas, noticing that his fist had firmly clenched around the fabric obscuring his belly. It had become his most obvious tell, as of late.

With softened eyes, Remus placed a gentle hand on the lycan’s rigid shoulder, feeling it relax beneath his reassuring grip. Lucas’s golden gaze met Remus’s, and they shared a quiet moment.

“I’ll keep you safe. That is my promise to you, and that is my promise to the king.” Remus’s voice was soft, but sure.

“What happens once the war arrives?” Lucas whispered with a tremble. “What happens if I can’t be there to fight it?”

“Then I will fight twice as fiercely in your stead.”

Lucas’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing thin. He winced as his fears wrapped tightly around him, like a snake with its prey.

“What if I can’t protect them?” His eyes fell to the swell, so delicately held in his palm, as the tiniest flutter danced in his womb.

“Then I will protect them for you, just as I promised.” Remus replied, firmly. “The worries of war are no longer your concern, Lucas. I will carry that burden on your behalf.” He slid his palm down Lucas’s arm, grabbing his hand and lifting it to his lips. On his knuckles he placed a gentle kiss, an unspoken promise of devotion.

As his lips brushed away, Remus glanced up, his warm, brown eyes gazing softly into Lucas’s. Steadily, Lucas’s fears began to drift, no longer clinging so tightly to his mind. With an appreciative smile, Lucas wrapped his arms around Remus’s neck.

“Thank you.” Lucas whispered.

“Always.” Remus returned the embrace.

Vin watched as three elves entered the great hall, the superior of which led the other two, who had been tasked with hauling a heavy, wooden trunk, filled with weapons, for the king’s inspection. The leading elf was adorned with a long, white robe, embroidered with golden leaves and flowers upon its edges. His long, brown hair trailed midway down his back, the sides pulled in loose twists, and secured with a golden hair pin. The elves to his rear were dressed in a similar attire of faded green and silver adornments.

Stopping before the king, the elves lowered the trunk onto the stone floor with a gentle thud. With a few clicks of the clasps, they carefully opened the lid. The superior elf gestured to the box, inviting Vin to inspect the contents. Vin nodded, kneeling before the chest, and slowly lifting one of the fabric wrapped bundles. It was heavy against his palms, and he rested it over his thigh as he untied the string. Once thoroughly freed, he flipped the loose fabric aside, revealing the sheathed elven sword. Rising to his feet, he slowly removed the leather case, exposing the shimmering curves of the steel blade. At its base was an elegantly engraved oak leaf. His fingers traced over the hilt, settling on the pommel, where a carving of an acorn contrasted the silvery metal. He rocked the sword in his hand, inspecting it thoroughly. It was well balanced, and beautifully made, and certainly more than adequate to serve its purpose. Satisfied, he returned the sheath, and laid the sword back in the trunk.

“Do you wish to inspect the others?” The elf asked.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m sure the rest will be similar enough.” Vin replied.

“Very well.” The elf agreed, directing the others to take the chest to the armory.

With an acknowledging nod, the pair hoisted the chest up, and headed out of the great hall. Though the trunk was obviously quite heavy, they carried it with grace and ease, as if it were lighter than a finch’s down feather.

“King Kai’en received your report. We’ve moved soldiers in to secure our northern border, though it’s been quiet thus far.” The elf firmly clasped his hands in front of him, lightly bowing his head. “Forgive the delayed introduction, my name is Ellery, advisor to the king. I will be visiting here frequently on his behalf.”

“Pleasure.” Vin nodded.

“I will also be overseeing the training efforts. I trust there will be no issues with that.” Ellery spoke directly.

“The more the merrier.” Vin returned flatly. “As always, Valkevilla welcomes whatever resources Elvenwood has to offer.”

“A new load of weapons and armor will be ready in about a month. In the meantime, I suggest you find ways to supplement with your own resources. We will have to thoroughly arm our own people, after all,” said Ellery, his tone carrying a sharpened edge.

“Of course.” Vin stiffened.

Ellery nodded, his chest puffed with the satisfaction of Vin’s discomfort.

“We’ll be gathering up to depart as soon as the last of the trunks has been unloaded.”

“Very well.” Vin replied. “Valkevilla extends its deepest gratitude to Elvenwood.”

“I’ll pass your sentiments along.” Ellery gave a small bow, then turned to leave the great hall, his boots gracefully tapping against the tiled floor.

Vin let out a harsh breath, releasing the tension his body had unconsciously stored during their brief interaction. Dealing with elves was never easy. It certainly gave Vin a much deeper appreciation for Carmilla. But at least progress was being made, even if it wasn’t in the name of an end he was at all pleased about.

Glancing out the window, he watched the leaves rustle in the breeze. The first of them had already begun to change into worn yellows and burnt oranges, and Vin realized that autumn had fallen upon them. The breeze now carried a harsher chill as the sun dipped below the horizon in the evenings, and he knew that before long, the first snow would grace his stoop. He desperately hoped that the coming winter would stall the war, if even just for a short time—at least long enough to watch his child draw their first breath. It was the one wish he’d prayed to the gods every night to grant. Hopefully, those silent words hadn’t fallen on deaf ears.

[damnyoubishop]

I humbly present a silver gifting Drabble. I love them so much. Yes it’s ooc, but I can’t write for toffee. Please someone write more!

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/58959358"><strong>Truth</strong></a> (294 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyhowe2"><strong>kittyhowe2</strong></a><br />Chapters: 1/1<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/The%20Lord%20of%20the%20Rings:%20The%20Rings%20of%20Power%20(TV%202022)">The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022)</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/The%20Silmarillion%20and%20other%20histories%20of%20Middle-Earth%20-%20J*d*%20R*d*%20R*d*%20Tolkien">The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/The%20Lord%20of%20the%20Rings%20-%20All%20Media%20Types">The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types</a><br />Rating: Mature<br />Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br />Relationships: Annatar/Celebrimbor (Tolkien), Celebrimbor/Sauron (Tolkien), Celebrimbor (Tolkien)/Halbrand (The Rings of Power)<br />Characters: Celebrimbor (Tolkien), Sauron (Tolkien), Halbrand (The Rings of Power)<br />Additional Tags: Love, Angst, Violence, They are in love your honour, come on sauron give in you love brimby, silvergifting, a little bit soft, for Sauron anyway<br />Summary: <p>A Drabble about Celebrimbor confronting Sauron</p>

[cornflowersisblue]

@fromfrollo has already written 9 chapters of "Drow-disaster". She writes very well in her native language, and I would like for more people to be able to read it. I helped translate chapters 1 and 2. So please enjoy it and support with kudos. I would be so grateful 💛

The plot begins with the arrival at Grymforge. And then it's all as we would like, saving Nere, NSFW scenes, muscular body and long white hair... lots of details, and drow culture.

If you like Astarion, NSFW between him and the dark elf happens at the end of chapter 1.

Let us know that you're reading this, then I'll translate the following chapters. There will be such a damn true Nere (◕‿◕)

[whitegoldtower]

The Arachnomancer, The Arch-Mage of Sorcere; Alak’niss Rilynath.

(Begging tumblr not to chew up my video quality is clearly too much to ask for)

Also here, have the first chapter of the accompanying fic:

[tacticalgrandma]

Ok one more for M.D. "Do you believe in second chances?"

As they trance across the room from one another, Minthara and Mil meet. 

Minthara was never one to ascribe special meaning to her trances, never found in them the visions and messages some zealots claimed. But with illithid influence, the elves have created a utility to their rest. In their subconscious minds, they can communicate when waking words fail. 

And Mil has yet to find words for why they should not kill Orin the Red. 

“I’m not hesitating out of mercy,” Mil tells her. 

“Certainly not,” Minthara says. “Mercy would be sparing the lives of the next swathe of civilians she is due to murder.”

Mil purses her lips. They are walking through a purple nothingness as they speak, their feet meeting empty air. It’s a bit like being under a Gaseous Form spell. They are still mostly in Minthara’s mind, then. 

They usually are. Mil’s mind is red and liquid. 

“I need to know if you—” Mil cuts herself off. Words fail once more. Well, that’s why they’re meeting here. Mil directs her attention outward, around Minthara rather than to her. Minthara lets her thoughts suffuse the atmosphere. 

The mist around them turns a darker, plum color as Mil’s mind slips through it. Minthara can sense what she’s looking for. She wants to know what it is, exactly, that Minthara feels towards Orin. She’s worried it’s anger—no, hate, hate is what concerns her most. 

Minthara does not feel as confident in her knowledge of her own mind as she once did. But she thinks Mil will not find too much hate—certainly no more than the anger she will find. Anger and hate are hot. Warm, if one can stand to embrace them. What she feels most for Orin is something sharp, more than any other sensation. It brings her no comfort. 

Mil frowns as she delves through the clouds of Minthara’s thoughts. Whatever she finds does not comfort her either. The world around them has become a dense fog. Minthara needs to take a step closer to make out Mil’s face. 

“I need your help,” Mil says. “I don’t know why I want to—save Orin.”

“What makes you think she needs saving?”

“I don’t know. Can you help me find out?”

They’ve done this a few times before, with varying levels of success. Two people delving into one mind, together, seem to stand a respectable chance of uncovering its secrets. It’s how Minthara was able to remember what, exactly, Orin did to her. It’s how Mil was able to remember the family that raised her as a child. How she learned a Modify Memory spell had been cast on her, even if neither she nor Minthara could find a way through the Weave sewn around it. 

Mil holds out her hand. Minthara takes it, and the nothing under their feet substantiates and swallows them. 

It is harder to move through Mil’s mind, even for Mil herself. The sea they swim in has an unnatural current that always seems to push against them. The two of them make steady but slow progress down through the fathoms. Mil guides them, and Minthara can hear echoes of her orienting herself. Orin. Orin. Why don’t I hate Orin?

The water around them warms so gradually that, like the frog in the fable, Minthara does not notice it until it begins to blister her skin. 

Minthara looks to Mil. She is floating in place, enraptured. Minthara follows her fixed gaze. She does not understand what she sees until it is almost upon them. 

A world of flame quenches the water around them. Minthara can only stand it for a moment. Just long enough to witness Mil be immolated. Minthara jerks out of her trance with Mil’s ashes in her throat. 

Quickly, Minthara takes in her surroundings. Cheap silk under her thighs. People laughing too loud in the back streets behind the Elfsong. Mil sitting cross-legged on her bed, breathing and unharmed. Still in her trance. Now that she is grounded in reality again, Minthara lets herself understand the fire. 

She is intimately familiar with such heat. Anger is hot, hate is hot. But the inferno was not hatred of Orin. It was hatred for Orin. 

Minthara crosses the suite and wedges herself on Mil’s bed. Mil does not stir. Her body is warm. 

Minthara will have some comfort for her when she wakes. She still does not know how to feel about Orin, herself. But vengeance has always inspired courage in her. 

[yandere-darkdesires]

TEASER

of

Dark Obsession

Introduction

Rylax was a dark elf, with skin as black as night and eyes that shone with a deep, ominous glow. He was tall and slender toned body, with pointed ears that stretched out from his head like jagged horns. He wore a cloak of shimmering black silk, adorned with intricate patterns of gold thread that glittered in the lantern light. His face was hard and expressionless, and he spoke in a low, raspy voice that sent shivers down Aella's spine every time she heard it.

Aella, on the other hand, was a forest elf, with skin the color of freshly fallen leaves and eyes that shone like bright stars. She was small and delicate, with long, flowing hair that shone like silver in the sunlight. She wore a simple dress of green satin, adorned with golden embroidery that glimmered in the candlelight. Her face was soft and kind, and she spoke in a voice that reminded Rylax of the songs of birds and the whispers of leaves.

Despite their differences, the two elves found themselves drawn to each other, their similarities far outweighing their differences. For Rylax, Aella's warmth and kindness were like a balm to his tired soul, and he found himself opening up to her in ways that he had never opened up to anyone before. For Aella, Rylax's strength and determination were like a beacon in the darkness, and she found herself admiring him and looking up to him in ways that she had never done with anyone else.

Their time together was filled with long, intimate conversations, as they spoke of their hopes, their dreams, and their fears. They learned about each other's pasts, their families, their friends, and their cultures. In many ways, their relationship was like a mirror, reflecting back to each other the things that they loved and admired about themselves and the things that they struggled with and sought to change.

As their feelings for each other grew stronger, they found themselves struggling to reconcile their differences in view on the world. Rylax believed that strength could only be achieved through power, and that the only way to truly live was to conquer and dominate those around him. Aella, on the other hand, believed that strength could only be achieved through compassion and empathy, and that the only true path to happiness was through cooperation and understanding.

Despite their differences, they found themselves falling deeper and deeper in love with each other, their feelings not until--

[hms-hairy-plopper]

Nobody:

Winky: I miss Mister Barty’s laugh.

Winky: But he’s home, at least.

Winky: Maybe he’ll get better someday.

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - Aemond Targaryen

Chapter 3: A Study in Death

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 3.2k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ you begin to settle into your new position in the kingdom and forge tentative friendships.

It was disorienting, waking up in another bed. You had been shown to your room by Helaeana before she went off to sleep herself and it had taken hours for your mind to calm down enough to sleep. Your room was at ground level and made from the same combination of roots and black stone as the rest of the castle. It was larger than your entire home combined. There was a main living space with the most comfortable furniture you had ever sat in. It was all nature-oriented, with hues of green being the preferred choice of colour for decoration. 

The living space was separated by a rise in the floor by a few steps, where your bed was placed horizontally next to a wide set of windows. A desk was placed in front of the windows, along with a bookshelf next to it. There were few books, but you knew with the items you packed it would fill up a good portion of space. Your view was of the palace gardens, where plants and flowers of all types bloomed even under the dark cover of the elder trees. 

Your bed was four posters made of dark oak, all intricately carved in forest imagery. Sheer white fabric draped down on all ends, cocooning you in. Your sleep came slowly as you had tossed and turned for hours the night before. You were in a strange land, surrounded by strange people, with a king who clearly did not like you and had a penchant for killing those he disliked. Naturally, calm had not come to you. 

You had been in a state of being between sleep and awake when soft rapping sounded on your door. Your eyes shot open and you looked around your room. You scrambled out of the silken sheets of your bed and stood in the room, unsure of what to do. You were in a nightrobe that had been given to you, its gentle caress of fabric brushed against your skin. 

“C-come in.” You called out. The door opened and two elves walked in. One who stood on the right was dressed in a light powder pink dress of fine silk with sheer fabric on top that complimented her brown skin with cool undertones. The pink gown had gold embellishments that matched the jewelry draped from her ears and neck. The pink jewel that rested between her collarbones reflected the low lights of your room. Her hair was pin straight and decorated with gold ornaments in waterfall braids that formed a low crown on her head. 

Her companion was dressed in lavender, which happened to be the same style as the pink one. Her pale skin was littered with light and dark freckles that looked like the shimmering fireflies that occupied the grounds outside. Her hair was not done up like her friend's but was curly and a deep amber like the honey you would buy from the market back home. 

You knew there was no getting used to the awe-inspiring looks of the elves. A year here or not, each time meeting one would come with a moment of shock you were sure not to get used to. 

The red-haired one stepped forward, “Good morrow. I’m Amara and this is Liriel,” She gestured to her companion, “We’re to be your handmaids for the time you are here.” 

“Handmaids?” You questioned. You did not think, other than the lodgings you were given, that any other kindness would be extended your way. 

The other elleth pitched in, “We are here to fetch things you need, get you ready in the mornings, and provide company.” That was the nail in the coffin for you. They would provide company for you, a kinder way of saying that everything you did and said was being watched and would be reported to the king. This was Aemond’s way of exerting even more control over you. It was not surprising in the least, but it still made you uncomfortable. 

Another servant stepped through with a silver tray of food; breads, fruits, and cheeses. Your stomach made a slight noise and you became painfully aware of how long it had been since you last ate. The tray was placed down on the table and next to a clear glass pitcher full of water and some matching glass chalices. You moved to inspect the food while Amara and Liriel sat down on one of the couches. They gestured for you to join them and you did, choosing a spot on a chair positioned across from them. 

“Once you’re finished eating, we can get you ready for the day,” Liriel spoke. She shifted her gaze to the large dark oak wardrobe resting against the wall behind you. You had opened it last night to see dozens of fine dresses in a variety of colours and sizes, obviously planned to try and fit the needs of any random guest. However, you doubted the word guest could accurately describe your situation - a prisoner with special privileges felt more like it. 

“Oh! I cannot wait to style your hair. I’ve never done a human’s before.” Amara smiled as she reached out to pluck a cherry from the tray. You were resigned to eating in silence while the two elves chatted away, talking about what it is like to live in the castle. You paid attention but were also focused on the underlying message in your conversation with them. While you had yet to meet many elves, there was always a secret unspoken point when they spoke to you. 

The aspect of your humanness was treated like an oddity. It was something rare and unique to gawk at for a moment before one would become bored and disregard it. You believed yourself to be nothing more than an object displayed on a shelf; meant for entertainment and nothing more. 

You plopped a piece of cheese in your mouth and despite it being delicious, your thoughts bittered the taste.

It had taken an hour for Amara and Liriel to get you ready for the day. Each of them fretted over different aspects of your style, conversing with one another on colours, hues, styles, and jewelry. You had spoken to them many times that you cared little for your own presentation and that you were here on one mission alone; find a cure for the taint. There was no time to fuss over what complimented your undertones or how one particular fabric pattern suited you more than the other. However, you knew putting up a fight and resisting would be pointless and resigned yourself to becoming a doll they could dress up. 

Their intentions were good, but you regretted it the moment you left your room and began to be escorted down the hall. Other elves passed, all servants or members of the court, and they gawked at you. The elvish clothing on you felt wrong and you occasionally tugged on the ends of your sleeves with nervousness. You felt inadequate in any way and just wished to go back to your work, for that was what you could do well. 

You happen upon a set of two doors, not as large as the ones at the grand hall, but still detailed enough that you appreciated the craftmanship. The two guards that had walked you from your room each grabbed a handle and opened it. Inside you could see a large study. Shelves were lined with countless vials, boxes, and chests filled with more ingredients than you knew existed. It was the most exquisite laboratory you had ever seen.  

A door on one of the far ends opened and an elf walked in. He had short silver hair that hung down just past the bottoms of his ears in whisps. He was dressed in dark trousers with high boots. His doublet was made of an emerald-coloured fabric with metal embellishments. His stature was thin but built, and he appeared to be just a few inches taller than you. Surprisingly so, he looked to be a young elf.

“Ah, I’ve been expecting you,” He spoke. The elf waved off the guards, “You can stay posted outside, I can take her from here.” 

He placed down a box he brought in on one of the many tables. His gaze swept over some brewing vials and adjusted some of the fires below them. 

“I am Daeron, the head healer and potions master. I must admit, my sister Helaena did not tell me much about your research, other than the fact that you have been studying the taint.” His eyes, the same shade of blue as Helaena and Aemond, caught yours. He subtly smiled to reassure you, as you had stayed rooted in your spot with your arms wrapped around your stomach. 

“Yes, your grace. I have experience studying the taint’s effects on the land. I am also a healer.” You stepped forward and lowered your hold, letting your arms hang at your sides. 

“That’s good,” Daeron stopped his work and straightened his back, “I’ll take you on a tour and fill you in on what we know.” He gestured for you to follow him and the two of you walked side by side to one of the two doors at the back of the laboratory. Daeron opened it for you and let you walk in first. 

While the grand hall with the throne impressed you, this room far exceeded it. It could not truly be called a room, for it was a vast tower that went up as far as you could see. The walls were covered in bookshelves overflowing with texts. In the centre of the tower was a large open fireplace with a low flame. Around it were a bunch of tables with chairs. 

“This is the library, well, one of them at least. This one concerns all the information we would need regarding medicine, plants, and magic,” Daeron began as he walked around the space, his footsteps echoed off the cold stone floor, “You will find all kinds of languages here, but we have translators should you need them.” He moved back towards the door to walk back to the laboratory, but you hung back for a moment, eyes still scanning the vast array of scrolls and tomes. 

You turned back around to follow Daeron. He led you through the other door that opened up to a grand hall full of elves in sick beds. Other healers were moving about between the patients, offering medicine and comfort. The sounds of murmurs and coughing flooded the room. 

“This place was an old feasting hall, but we converted it to house the influx of sick patients. While we have a decent understanding of the taint’s effects on plant life, the effects on the body are… different to all previous knowledge we have.” Daeron walked down the centre aisle at the foot of all the beds and you followed. 

“I know it spreads through cuts and other openings of the body,” You added while glancing at all the sick people as you pass by, “Truly my expertise remains with the taint's effect on nature, not the body. I have only met a few people who were afflicted by it and only for a moment.” 

Daeron nodded and stood in front of a long white sheet that sectioned off a part of the hall, “Then I must warn you about what you are about to see, it is not pleasant.” He opened the curtain and walked in, holding it so you could pass through. On the other side were more patients, however, they did not look like the ones you passed. The ones you passed were sick with a common fever, coughing and sweaty, but the ones here had visual effects on their body. 

Wounded elves lay in their beds, most asleep, while the ones who were awake acted caught in a perpetual hell. Their skin looked like glass, shiny under thick covers of sweat but had marked cracks as though it was the bed of a dried lake. There was a dark purple, almost black tint on different areas of each person’s body with their veins protruding to the surface. Some were coughing up blood onto rags as their body convulsed. The sight was grim and you had to suck in a breath to refrain from displaying any signs of discomfort. 

“It burns through the body quickly in some cases, eventually rendering them immobile in some limbs. It occurs at different rates as well. No remedies for pain or other ailments even aid in pain relief.” Daeron turned to you and leaned in, lowering his voice so the others could not hear, “The people in this section have no more than a day or two before they pass. At this stage, all they can do is wait.” 

You looked around at the elves, despair rolling over you in waves. It was one thing to hear of the taint killing but to see it was something else entirely. It was an incredibly sad sight, to watch the life be horribly drained from people that did not deserve it. You and Daeron continued on as he began to name patients and how they got infected. Most were injured while inspecting the taint, others approached because they did not know what it was and suffered the consequences of curiosity. 

“Have you tried moonweed? I’ve seen it make surprising effects on the taint I experiment on back home.” You proposed. Daeron turned to you and thought for a moment. 

“Moonweed is a poison,” Daeron stated. 

You nodded, “Yes, but it is known that some poisons can be used to counteract others. I tried it in an experiment once. Tainted flowers began to grow alive again, but it did not last.” You were solemn by your failed experiment just the day prior. You truly believed it had worked, but when the life faded away and the taint took over again you felt a part of yourself go with it. 

Daeron walked closer to you, awe in his eyes as his hands went up to rest on your shoulders, “Are you being truthful? It really receded?” 

“Well, yes, but only for a moment,” You undermined your work, still reeling from the colossal failure. 

“Genius!” Daeron began. He started to walk away from you towards the exit of this area of the sick ward, “None of our healers have yet to accomplish that. You must go over it with me in the laboratory. What a feat!” His steps had renewed vigour at your words. You got the sense that this was an elf with an intense passion for his study, bordering on obsession by his reaction to your words. 

“Genius for a human, right?” You did not mean to say that as loudly as you did, but it had been feelings simmering under the surface the whole time you had been in the elven kingdom. Whenever people talked to you, their compliments always felt backhanded; as though a human was unworthy of such praise but received it otherwise. 

Daeron looked at you with an eyebrow raised, confused that you would ask such a question, “No. Just genius.” As he walked away, you paused for a moment. Your heart swelled at the compliment and you knew that hopefully, you would be making another friend in this place; anything that could make your stay here better. 

You sped up your walking to catch up with Daeron and walked with him to the laboratory, where the two of you spent the following hours swapping notes and other bits of information. The two of you had to catch up on what the other knew, as being on the same page was crucial. 

The time between you and Daeron passed swiftly. Despite the topic being grim, it felt nice to share information with someone just as deeply invested in the same study as you. His passion for healing was much like yours, though his talent for potion-making far exceeded your skills. The two of you spent hours in the laboratory, bouncing ideas back and forth and scanning through books. 

Over that time, your conversation had managed to move into topics that were not strictly work-related. You had gotten to know Daeron beyond that of the role of head healer. He had an interest in horse breeding and animal care. He had a plethora of pets, including some cats, dogs, an owl, and two ferrets. You had instantly seen a resemblance between him and Helaena, as she had an interest in collecting insects. Your thoughts drifted to Aemond and if he collected anything like his siblings. 

Your feet pattered against the stone hallway as two guards walked in front of you. It was as if your thoughts summoned Aemond himself, for at the end of the hallway he turned down to walk by you. His shoulders swayed with the movement of his gait. His lithe figure was tall and lean. He wore a similar outfit to the one you saw yesterday, all dark leather. His longsword was strapped to his waist and moved back and forth with his steps. His hair was done in the same style of half up and half down. 

The elf king was the most exquisite being you had ever seen, but his reputation threw you off entirely. With the stories you had heard, he was like a spawn from the greatest evils deep under the earth’s surface. Another elf walked beside him, with sunkissed skin and dark hair. Thick stubble covered the bottom portion of his face and you realized that he was the first elf you saw that possessed a beard. He was clad in silver armour and conversed with Aemond. While Aemond did not so much as spare you a glance as he passed by, the man to his side was looking at you with an intensity of hate you had yet to receive from anyone. Even the scornful look you had received from the king the other day was not as odious as this. 

The elf stopped glaring at you to give attention to his king. You nodded with respect as you passed, but you doubted it was noticed. The guards in front of you marched at a steady pace while you maintained a step behind them. After Aemond passed, you released a breath of relief. You hoped that he would continue to ignore your presence for the year you were there, for you did not wish to see what would happen if you were to get on his bad side. 

A burning feeling at the back of your head hit you and you knew someone was staring at you. It felt exactly like the stare Aemond gave you when leaving the throne room the other day. You knew the king was watching you as you moved down the hallway. It was with great relief that it faded once you made a right turn and got out of his sight. 

There was a part of you that wondered why he had been looking, but logically you hoped it was nothing but your nerves tricking you. 

Chapter 4: A Night of Song and Dance Preview

“What about,” You lowered your voice slightly, “The Great War?” It had ended centuries ago, but the scars from such gratuitous violence still cut and the blood still stained the minds and hearts of everyone. Daeron’s eyes darkened for a moment as if recalling it himself. You knew he would have been alive during that period and it once again hit you how odd it was to be among elves. They live so long, and everyone in this room was guaranteed to be many centuries, possibly even a millennium, older than you. 

“All that my brother did was to defend our lands, that is all. What about your people? Are you telling me they did not do terrible things to protect themselves?”

☾⋆⁺₊✧ If you want to be added to the taglist, click here!

taglist: @izzicle @arriettys-song @ggukiespace @wasntpriscilla @marielahurtado @shamelessblazecrown @peachysunrize @lolliespocketfullofpollies @lanadragon04 @kokosg @sinistersnakey @Aemondtargaryenwifey @m-riaa @sarcasticwitch11 @coriellesmarya @simpinonyouz @scrumptiousloser @gcdofchaos @whorrorbellee @ashjade19

[ego-osbourne]

Sanguine …and Erandur

Doodle showcasing big man Sam

Erandur is a very protective parent. Doesn’t wanna see his kids hang around questionable people, y’know? And he means business, but uh, Sanguine’s a bit slow

Also, Sam turns out to be harmless, dw

[angelasscribbles]

Art for Dark Elf

You guys!! You guys!!! I am soooo excited about this art commission from @bayleedrawsx that I won from @storyofmychoices for her Shadows and Deception murder mystery event!!

Shout out to @karahalloway for suggesting Dark Elf when I asked for opinions on what to get!!

It's cute but evil Elven Liam!!!! 🤩🤩🤩🤩

[crypt-tids]

A Gift Unto the King

21

Complications

The last few weeks had passed by peacefully. That was, of course, for everyone except Carmilla, who had found herself deep in the throes of horrendously, violent morning sickness. She’d spent most of the morning curled up in her bed, huddled beneath her silk sheets, her unrelenting nausea a constant reminder of her delicate condition. Any attempt she made to eat or drink was met with a fiercely quick return, and so, she had resigned herself to no longer trying. It wasn’t ideal, but she’d hoped that the vomiting would lessen if there was nothing left to vomit.

Thus far, her theory on that matter had been incorrect.

Glimmers of early morning sun peeked through the crack in the drapes, glowing faintly into the room. On her night stand, rested the melted remains of a beeswax candle that had long since burned out, and beside it, a half full cup of water that she dared not even look at, out of fear that it may return a scornful glare.

“Ugh.” She groaned, clamping a hand to her mouth. Her eyes squoze shut as she focused on the nausea swirling in her stomach, like a ship bobbing in the waves, inching closer to a maelstrom. After a few, agonizing moments, the wave passed, and she released her grip.

Burying her face in her pillow, she let out a long, exasperated sigh. It had been nearly three days and she’d hardly been able to keep anything down aside from a small slice of bread, a few bites of frumenty, and a collective three glasses of water—give or take, to be honest she’d stopped keeping track after about her tenth rendezvous with the bucket.

Hardly even six weeks along and she was already suffering a great deal more than she had originally anticipated. The concept, of course, she understood quite clearly, and Alistair had explained to her what to expect to some degree. But, for some reason, no one had ever bothered to mention just how bloody awful morning sickness actually was, and she had foolishly believed that the condition would be mild, and tolerable, allowing her to function with some small level of normalcy—or to at least be able to eat.

Aoife made frequent visits to bring her fresh water and bland foods, and exchange her bucket as needed, however, she had been relieved of her duties for the night, as the dark circles beneath her eyes hinted heavily to her lack of sleep. Illness or not, Carmilla had no desire to see Aoife suffer in such a way on her behalf.

She shuffled uncomfortably under the covers. It seemed that no position would alleviate her nausea, and she was getting increasingly more frustrated with each toss and turn. She rolled over onto her sides, her back—very briefly, electing not to, under any circumstances, do that again—and finally, settling on propping a fluffy pillow against the solid oak headboard, giving it a good lean, and hoping for the best. At least, in the partial sitting position, the illness pressing into her throat felt less severe.

Sinking deeply against her pillow, and engaging in a few rounds of intensely wishful thinking and near straining focus, the exhaustion clinging to her bones won over, and her limbs fell limp, as she drifted back to sleep.

The midmorning sun cascaded through the window of the small cottage. A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, filling the air with a calm static.

As the light grew bright against his lids, Lucas hesitantly awoke, squinting as he recalled forgetting to shut the curtains the night before, and letting out a low grumble. He felt the warmth of Vin’s body pressed against his back, his arm loosely wrapped around him, hand protectively guarding his curved belly. The steady, drawn out tempo of his breath told Lucas that he was still asleep. He slowly shuffled his head against the fluffy, down pillow, tucking his hands around it, careful not to wake his lover. Vin’s fingers lightly twitched against his skin, before falling still again.

It was the first morning that Lucas had awoken with Vin still in his bed. The vampire had taken to the habit of allowing Lucas to sleep in, quietly slipping away in the early hours to return to his tasks, much the way it had been before when they were still sneaking around the darkened corners of the castle. It was just something that had become silently expected. Lucas would slink from Vin’s chambers in the night, and Vin would slip out of the cottage before dawn, and with any luck at all, no one would be the wiser. Lucas never complained, but he’d always hated it.

He sank further into Vin’s warm embrace, and in the depths of his memory, he couldn’t recall another morning in which his heart had felt so full. His body remained rigidly still, in hopes that he could cling to this moment for just a little longer. Though his eyes were still heavy with sleep, he dared not close them out of fear that when he opened them again, Vin would be gone, as if he had never been there at all.

Every so often, Vin’s breath would brush against his back, and some of that fear would melt away. Part of him knew it was silly to feel this way—to need Vin so desperately—but he couldn’t help it. Before, he had been able to trick himself, when their relationship had been so tucked away that it hardly felt real at all, but now, he seemed to be unable to hide from his desires. From the moment he confessed, he knew that he would never again be able to pretend that he didn’t love him. But as Vin laid wrapped around him in the bed they’d so lovingly shared, with the promise of an eternity together still bouncing around in his chest, he accepted that he’d never have to.

Vin lightly stirred, nuzzling his head into Lucas’s back, his grip around him tightening. He let out a small grunt as he stretched his back, his body further pressing against the werewolf. Lucas half expected Vin to try quietly slipping away, but he didn’t. He just held him close, fingertips gently dancing over his belly.

“You stayed.” Lucas spoke quietly, his voice thick with sleep.

“Mm-hm.” Vin returned with a yawn. “Is that okay?”

“Mm- Always has been.”

A smile danced on the corners of Vin’s lips as he inhaled the sweet, floral aroma of soapwort wafting off of Lucas’s hair. The scent remained just as fresh on him now as it had when they’d emerged from their bath the night before, and he was finding himself quite drawn to it.

He pressed a soft kiss to Lucas’s shoulder blade, then he shuffled up, brushing aside the lycan’s sandy hair, and placing another on the back of his neck. Slowly dragging his hand up, he caressed Lucas’s plush breast. Lucas shuddered, drawing a sharp inhale, and Vin instinctively pulled away.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Lucas assured. “They’re just… a bit tender sometimes.” He mumbled into his pillow.

The vampire’s hand fell limp across Lucas’s stomach, his brows creasing slightly.

“Were they… last night?” Vin asked, suddenly concerned that he’d unintentionally made Lucas uncomfortable amidst his impassioned fondling.

“No. I don’t know. Maybe?” Lucas sighed. “I was probably too lusted up to notice, either way.”

Vin was disconcertingly quiet, and Lucas turned over onto his other side to better look at him. His face was soft, but his eyes were drowning with concern, and Lucas felt unbearably guilty for unwittingly bringing that upon him.

“You didn’t hurt me.” Lucas added, sensing that, that was the fear clinging to the forefront of the vampire’s mind. “I promise.”

Vin gave a small, slightly unsure, smile, and Lucas leaned towards him, firmly pressing their lips together, as if to further prove his claim was genuine. When they finally broke apart, Vin gave his lover a proper smile, his worries fading away with it.

“You’ll tell me if I ever push you too far.”

“Of course.” Lucas replied. “It’s all new for me, too, you know.”

Vin nodded, gently stroking Lucas’s cheek with his thumb, as the lycan nuzzled into it. Golden sunlight glowed around him in a radiant halo, softening the firm edges of his body, as if he himself were a divine creature sent specifically for him. Gazing at his beauty, he grew overwhelmed, still somehow unbelieving that the man before him should feel any desire at all to claim him as his own. This was exactly where he wanted to be. Every night, and every morning, he wanted to be there, wrapped tightly around Lucas, encapsulated in their loving warmth. They had missed far too many peaceful mornings as it was, and Vin refused to miss another, for as long as Lucas would allow it.

“The full moon is only a few days away.” Lucas interrupted Vin’s thoughts. “I was wondering if…” he anxiously gnawed at his bottom lip, “if you might… stay with me?” His voice faltered towards the end. Something that had once seemed so natural, now felt heavily weighted with tense memories.

Vin’s crimson eyes widened. The last time he had offered to stay with Lucas, he’d been pushed away, and Lucas began volunteering for any assignment that would keep him from the castle. Vin had always assumed that it was because Lucas wanted nothing to do with him after their bitter separation. Only just now did he realize that it was because he had been trying to hide his pregnancy.

“Do you really want me to?”

Lucas nodded, his brows slightly upturned over his golden eyes.

“Very much so.” He whispered.

“Then I will gladly weather it with you.” Vin pressed a gentle kiss to his nose, which playfully wrinkled beneath his lips.

Wrapping their arms around each other, they pulled themselves close, their legs crossing and tangling together. The mattress was old and lumpy—and certainly nowhere near as luxurious as the plush bed lying cold in Vin’s chambers—but it was comfortable in a different way. It felt like home. Their home.

Vin pressed his lips to the top of Lucas’s head, his fingers lightly tracing over his muscular back. They laid there for a while, silently enjoying their warm embrace. Sunlight glittered across the bed, shimmering brightly against their bare skin. Vin wanted to live in the peace of this moment forever. Lucas’s stomach, on the other hand, did not seem to care much for such sentimentality.

With a low, gurgling, grumble, the werewolf’s stomach growled, rudely disrupting their late morning cuddle. Lucas blushed with embarrassment, however, Vin didn’t notice, as his face was thoroughly buried in the vampire’s chest.

“Hungry, are we?” Vin toyed, a snicker hanging in his throat.

“... Yeah.” Lucas hesitantly answered, his voice muffled.

“Well! I suppose it would be in poor taste to make the father of my child wait for breakfast.” Vin smiled, and gave Lucas’s arm a quick rub, before sliding himself out of the lycan’s grip. “What shall I prepare for you, my love?”

Lucas propped himself up on his elbow, following the vampire with his eyes, a puzzled half-smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“You can cook?”

“I’m not without skills.” Vin replied playfully as he tugged on his pants, giving his foot a little wiggle.

“That’s an understatement.” Lucas teased, giving Vin a once over, that certainly wasn’t lost on him.

“That’s dangerous ground you’re treading.” Vin smirked, wagging a finger. “So, what do you want to eat?”

“You.”

“Lucas.” Vin rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry.” Lucas giggled. “I think all I have are some eggs and potatoes.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position, the thick blanket falling across his lap.

“That’s all you have?” Vin raised a brow.

“Yeah. Why, what’s wrong with eggs and potatoes?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Vin assured with a wave as he walked into the kitchen to stoke the fire. “We’ll just get something else later.”

Lucas nodded, watching Vin as he thinly sliced and cubed the potatoes. He had managed to find some green onions and a couple spare mushrooms amongst the pantry’s stores, and decided to chop them up for good measure. Tossing a pat of butter into the waiting skillet, he cracked the eggs, and shoveled everything in. With a sprinkle of black pepper, and a pinch of salt, he had the makings of a decent looking omelette.

It smelled wonderful, but having gone so long without eating, the savory scent seemed to be exacerbating the wave of nausea that was blossoming in Lucas’s stomach. A clenched fist rose to his mouth, pressing harshly against it as he squoze his eyes shut to focus. When it finally passed, his eyes were met with Vin’s deeply concerned stare.

“I’m fine.” Lucas brushed it off. “Just hungry.”

Vin didn’t break his gaze.

“Truly, I’m fine.” Lucas insisted.

Vin waited for a moment, perfectly still, crimson eyes scanning over Lucas carefully. To be truthful, it made Lucas feel a bit like a prized slab of beef under scrutiny before an intense negotiation. While he didn’t usually mind Vin’s eyes on him, in this particular instance, he wasn’t very keen.

“Have you been drinking enough blood?” He asked flatly, pulling the skillet from the fire and dividing the contents onto the two waiting plates.

“Yes.” Lucas replied.

“Are you sure?” Vin pressed, carrying the plates over to the bed.

“Yes.” The lycan hissed, taking the heavier plate.

As Vin sat down across from him, his eyes remained fixed, his lips thin. Every inch of him was on guard, ready to leap into action the second anything went awry.

“Vin…” Lucas sighed, reaching out to grab the vampire’s hand. “It just happens, sometimes.” He tried to give a reassuring smile. “I’m hungry, my moon cycle is starting, and I’ve got a bun in the oven.” He giggled. “Every now and then, I’m going to feel less than tops.”

Vin watched their hands for a moment, the tension he’d been tightly clinging to slowly sifting away, like sand through an oversized hourglass. His thumb lightly rubbed over Lucas’s knuckles as he tried to settle himself, his plate of food now seemingly unimportant. Quietly, he retreated into his thoughts, a frown drawing at his mouth.

“Vin.” Lucas beckoned him to lift his gaze, and he slowly obliged. “I’m not delicate.”

The vampire winced as the last word exited Lucas’s mouth.

“But, you are.” Vin contradicted, his face twisting slightly. “I was there.” His voice faded with a crack.

Lucas quickly understood what beast had now nested on Vin’s shoulders. Hardly three weeks to their rear, Lucas had suffered a horrifically intense fainting spell. A fainting spell he had unknowingly brought upon himself through his own selfish stubbornness and anxiety. And while he knew Vin had been afraid, he hadn’t quite realized just how visceral that fear truly was. Vin, above all, had always been profoundly terrified of losing Lucas, and that day, he had been faced with a vivid reminder that there were things in this world that could take Lucas away from him.

“I haven’t given you much reason to trust me, I know that.” Lucas sighed. “I hope, someday, you’ll be able to trust me again, but… I need you to know that I will never hide anything from you again.”

Vin’s face softened, his eyes scanning over the penitent werewolf.

“The second anything feels wrong-”

“I’ll tell you.” Lucas interrupted. “I promise.”

Vin drew a deep breath, giving his lover a small smile as they started on their breakfast.

The omelette was unexpectedly tasty—though the potatoes were a touch underdone. Even so, provided how little Lucas had to work with, Vin pulled it all together quite well. Not that Lucas doubted Vin’s abilities to maneuver around a kitchen. It was just that, well, he’d never seen it. They had rarely even dined together outside of meals in the great hall, sat in their respective seats at opposite ends of the room. There had been no romantic brunches, or candlelit dinners. In fact, this was the first real meal they had shared together, just the two of them.

“Uh- In the spirit of being honest,” Lucas spoke through a mouthful of eggs, “I should probably tell you that, er-” he hesitated for a moment, not quite sure how to phrase it. “It’s just that. Well.” He swallowed, and forced a sharp exhale through his nose. “Werewolves don’t exactly… produce the smallest offspring.” His face scrunched with embarrassment. “I mean, they aren’t giants or anything. Fairly normal, I suppose, just, you know. A touch… bigger. Usually. Not always. But… usually.”

Vin raised a brow, a puzzled half smile forming on his lips. He didn’t speak, instead silently beckoning Lucas to clarify his point.

“Ah, um. That is to say- I-I mean, it’s small now, but. My family in particular seems to… uh… carry a bit… big.” Lucas awkwardly stammered out, his hands mocking the shape of a large belly.

“Okay?” Vin snickered, still unsure what exactly Lucas was getting at with this seemingly random confession.

“What I’m saying is…” Lucas rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not…uh… gonna be able to hide it much longer.” He gestured to himself. “As it is, I’m nearly five months along, and the fact that it’s still as small as it is, is more or less a blessing at this point.”

“Ah.” Vin nodded, shoveling another spoonful of omelette into his mouth. “Right.”

“People are gonna notice.” Lucas polished off the last of his breakfast.

“Well, all that hard work, it’d be a shame if they didn’t.”

“Vin!” Lucas chuckled, giving the vampire’s knee a playful shove, which sent Vin into a laughing fit of his own.

As the giggles slowly subsided, Lucas continued.

“What are we gonna do?”

Vin thought for a moment as he chewed his last bite, giving the few scraps of omelette left on the plate to Lucas, which he happily snarfed down.

“Well,” he finally spoke, “we have a little time.”

“Very little.” Lucas emphasized.

“I think we can carefully maneuver this.” Vin nodded confidently.

“How?”

“First things first, we get married. Then, when we’re ready, we’ll make a casual announcement to the court.” Vin shrugged, as if this were a completely normal and uncomplicated situation.

“And you think that’ll go over well?” Lucas asked, a hint of sarcasm tugging at his tone.

“I don’t see why not.”

“And your mother?”

“Oh. No, she’ll be furious, I’m sure.” Vin waved the thought away, like a fly. “But, I already made my position on her interference in my life very clear.”

“Mm.” Lucas pressed his lips together, his gaze falling to his lap, thumb mindlessly stroking his belly.

Vin felt Lucas withdraw, the lightness of their conversation dying within him. And as he watched Lucas softly caressing his abdomen, he realized just how deep of a scar Marion’s words had left on him. It was something he would never forgive his mother for. But even worse, he could never forgive himself for allowing it to happen in the first place, and he was desperate to prove to Lucas that he would never allow anything of the sort to ever happen to him again.

“Lucas,” Vin gave his knee a gentle squeeze, “she can’t do anything to you, now.”

Lucas didn’t speak, instead nervously gnawing at his bottom lip. Anxiety painfully tickled his chest as his mind danced around the memory of that horrid day.

I TOLD YOU NOT TO INTERFERE! YOU’VE RUINED EVERYTHING! He shuddered.

“Lucas?” Vin attempted to draw his attention, but he was still lost in his mind.

With a sigh, Vin leaned forward, lifting Lucas’s chin so their eyes would meet. His brows were creased, and his lips pressed thin. All of the joking and laughter from before was gone, and the large man, somehow, seemed so incredibly small in that moment.

“You’re safe. I promise.” Vin lightly stroked Lucas’s cheek with his thumb, and slowly, the weight began to lift.

Vin pressed his forehead to Lucas’s, each focusing on the other’s breathing. Slow inhales, and warm exhales, gentle and comforting. Slender fingers gripped at Lucas’s thighs, holding him steady. The heat of Vin’s palms radiated into his body, connecting them as one, and the pit in Lucas’s stomach shallowed.

“I will always protect you.” Vin whispered, sliding his hand up to meet Lucas’s, still hovering over his swollen middle. “And our baby.”

Lucas’s stomach fluttered as he peered up at Vin, the vampire’s face glowing with content happiness. He held no apprehension in his heart—not anymore. The man before him, who once trembled beneath the weight of his crown, now embraced it, carrying it on broadened shoulders. He was a king. A great king, just as Lucas had said he would be all those months ago.

“I trust you.” Lucas whispered in return, leaning forward, delicately meeting their lips. Pulling apart, he gazed into Vin’s shimmering, red eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You taste like onions.”

“So do you.” Vin snickered.

“It’s not good, is it?”

“Not at all.” The vampire agreed, leaning in for another kiss, before unfolding his legs, and swinging them out of bed.

Reaching down, Vin lifted the crumpled mess of his shirt off of the floor, and tugged it over his head. With a huff, he freed his hair from the prison of fabric, and ran his fingers through it like a make-shift comb. With a few hasty shoves, he tucked the plum blouse into his trousers, the unlaced neckline exposing his smooth, upper chest.

“So, how do I look?” Vin gestured to himself playfully. “Fit for the trollop trot?”

“Oh, most definitely.” Lucas giggled through a wide grin.

“Excellent.” Vin placed his hands on his hips, displaying a confidently seductive silhouette. “Do you need anything?”

“Ginger tea. I’m pretty sure I’m out.” Lucas scratched his chin, thinking. “Ah, I forgot to pick up some more transformation elixir. I suppose I should go get that, today.”

“Not to worry, I shall collect it for you.” Vin leaned over the bed. “Anything else, love?”

“Just you.”

“And me, you shall have.” Vin graced Lucas’s lips with a gentle kiss—which likely would have turned into something much deeper had he not forced himself to pull away.

Lucas reluctantly released his vampire, and watched him saunter towards the door, the light scuffing of his boots against the wood floor, a rhythmic protest to his exit.

As Vin reached for the latch, he gave Lucas one last, loving glance, a kind smile promising his return, before swinging the door open, and waltzing out.

The door clacked shut, and Lucas was, once again, alone in his cottage—well, almost alone. Letting out a sigh, he flopped back on the bed, rolling onto his side, and burying his face in his pillow. Vin’s sweet scent still clung heavily to it, lightly mixed with the spiced floral aroma of soapwort. He laid there for a while, deeply inhaling the intoxicating scent, his mind drifting back to the night before. Their panting breaths filling the silence as their bodies tangled together, Vin’s hands brushing along his skin, shivers running up his spine with every sensual touch. The feeling of his lips pressing against his chest, and the way he’d held him close as they collapsed into each other's arms. And when they’d awoken together, Lucas knew he finally had him.

Reluctantly, he pried himself away from the pillow, casting the blanket aside. They’d have a proper dinner that night, he decided. And since his pantry laid embarrassingly bare, he figured a trip to the market would be in order. Certainly, the day would still be young enough to purchase a fine slab of beef. Even still, he didn’t dawdle, quickly shuffling into some fresh clothes and tugging on his boots. Giving his blouse a last loosening adjustment, he swept his hand across his belly, a sudden flutter giving him pause. With a sweetened smile, he gave the bump a gentle rub, then grabbed his coin pouch, and headed out.

Vin slipped into the castle, unnoticed—which was shocking, considering how many people were milling about.

His boots furiously tapped against the stone tiles as he hustled down the hall towards the infirmary. Lucas only had two requests—well, three, but if he thought about it too much, his heart would skip—and he was determined not to let him down. With the full moon nipping at their heels, he didn’t want to take a chance on forgetting anything, especially since part of that request was an absolute necessity.

The infirmary door was propped open, and Alistair was engaging in light conversation with Angelique, who leaned casually against the table while Alistair processed some fresh herbs into medicine. Swatches of dried soil decorated Angelique’s tights and lined her fingernails. Sunlight glittered through the window, shimmering against her brilliant, red hair. Noticing the king enter, Angelique stiffened, pushing herself up, and giving him a small bow.

“Your majesty.” She greeted. Alistair turned and followed her lead.

“My apologies, we were not expecting you.” Alistair straightened up.

“I won’t be long, I only need to pick up a few things.” Vin replied, plainly.

“Ginger tea, for one, I presume?” Angelique wandered over to the shelf that housed various different ceramic jars, and pulled one down, gingerly setting it on the table. “I just mixed up a fresh batch, so it should be quite potent.” Grabbing a small pouch, she began filling it with the spicy tea. “Carmilla’s morning sickness seems to have taken a rather firm hold on her. I told Miss Aoife to come by in the afternoon to collect the tea, but it seems you beat her to it.”

Ah. Right. Carmilla. Vin gulped. The time certainly had escaped him. Not that he really knew much about this sort of thing. Even with Lucas, his experience had been brief and intermittent. He also hadn’t known it was morning sickness at the time.

“I’ll need two bags, please.” Vin clarified.

Angelique raised a brow, but didn’t question it, instead, doing as she was instructed.

“Is there anything else, your majesty?” Angelique asked kindly, as she handed Vin the pouches of tea.

“Yes, actually,” he continued, “I’ll need a vial of transformation elixir.”

“Ah.” Alistair nodded, putting the pieces together. He walked towards the cabinet against the far wall, well stocked with potion bottles and herb jars, and removed a small vial. It was smaller than Vin had expected it to be, but if it was potent enough to do its job, he had no right to complain.

“Forgive me, your majesty, had I realized sooner, I would have treated Sir Lucas differently.” Vin took the vial from Alistair’s outstretched hand. “He’d never shared with me who the child’s father was.”

Angelique’s brow creased, her eyes darting between her brother and the king. Vin stood rigidly still, surprisingly shocked by the astute analysis the healer had bestowed upon him. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why that statement had caught him so off guard.

“Unless,” Alistair tilted his head, arms loosely crossed over his chest, “I’m incorrect in my assumption?” His tone and expression indicated to Vin that the healer was, without a doubt, quite confidently, most certainly, certain in his assumption.

Vin cleared his throat, collecting himself.

“No, your assumption was correct.” His face suddenly felt hot following this small admission, but he did his best to ignore it. “Most of the court is not privy to that information, and for the time being, I’d appreciate it if it stayed that way.” He spoke bluntly.

“Of course, my king.” Alistair bowed, his long, gold earring glinting in the sunlight as it brushed against his pale cheek.

Vin gave a satisfied nod, before turning to leave, stopping short in the doorway. He gave the healers a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Thank you for caring for him. You have my deepest gratitude.” With a gracious smile, the vampire scurried out of the infirmary, his footsteps lightly echoing down the corridor, disappearing into the distance.

“You never mentioned that to me.” Angelique spoke softly.

“Hm?” Alistair acknowledged, having already returned to his tasks.

“That Sir Lucas was pregnant.” She clarified.

“It wasn’t my place to say.” Alistair tightly wrapped some twine around a small bundle of rosemary. “But,” he looked up at her, a brow raised inquisitively, “didn’t you know?”

Angelique shook her head, her wavy, red hair shuffling against her jaw.

“And you call yourself an empath.” Alistair smirked, playfully sucking at his teeth in sarcastic tsk’s.

“Oh, dry up!” Angelique gave his arm a quick shove, knocking him slightly off balance. “You know reading curse-borns isn’t easy. You can hardly blame me for missing it.” Though her words were light, Alistair could tell that she was deeply bothered by it. “I saw him so many times.” She muttered to herself, her arms tightly crossing her body. “How did I miss it?”

“Go easy, Angel.” Alistair placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, I couldn’t even definitively confirm it at first, and I was looking for it.” He gave her a kind smile. “Just because something slipped past you, doesn’t mean you aren’t a brilliant healer.” Alistair gave her arm a reassuring shake, leaning down to peer into the bright green eyes that mirrored his own. “And you are a brilliant healer.”

“You prat.” She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. “Thank you.”

Alistair nodded, sliding his hand off of her arm, and returning to tying bundles of herbs, before hanging them from iron nails to dry. Removing some of the previously dried herbs, Angelique grabbed her stone mortar and pestle, and tossed the crisped leaves into the bowl. Pushing up her sleeves, she tightly gripped the pestle, and began grinding the herbs down into powder. Every so often, the table would shake from the force of her movements.

The pair worked silently for a while, their need for idle conversation having long since faded off. The shuffling of leaves, and scraping of stone filled the large room with a monotonous, white noise. Normally, processing medicine would be a mindless, calming task, but neither healer seemed to be too soothed by it. They didn’t bother to ask what the other was thinking, but they each had a feeling their thoughts were one and the same.

Things are getting more complicated.

Vin hesitated before the door, his fingers unconsciously curling into a tightened fist around the bag of tea. Suddenly, Carmilla’s chambers felt incredibly imposing, in a way that made him shudder. He shouldn’t feel that way. It was ridiculous to feel that way. She was his friend. He would be there for her, whatever she needed. Everything she needed. He had made that promise to her. So why couldn’t he bring himself to knock?

Lucas. The thought danced into his mind before he could stop it.

She needed to know. Above every other member of the court, she needed to know. It wasn’t as though this moment hadn’t been inevitable. The thought of it had plagued him, shadowing him like a storm cloud, from the moment he had found out himself. But, in his mind, he had been able to fool himself into believing it was simple. There were no feelings between them, and there never would be. Their only attachment to each other was their child. The child that currently had Carmilla nearly bedridden.

Vin gulped, steeling his nerves, and knocked on the wooden door. His heart pounded furiously in his ears, and the pit in his stomach was making him queasy.

A fitting punishment, he thought, trying to see the humor in his predicament.

Slowly, the door swung open, the hinges giving a subtle creak. Before him stood a young, ginger haired woman with fluffy ringlets, tied in a loose braid down her back. Red freckles contrasted her alabaster skin, dark circles tugging at her hazel eyes.

Vin’s heart wrenched.

“Your majesty!” She squeaked with surprise, giving him a hasty bow. She glanced at Carmilla, who was sitting in bed, propped against the headboard. Giving the maid an approving nod, Aoife shuffled aside, granting the king entry.

“I brought you some tea. It’s supposed to help with the morning sickness.” Vin handed the pouch to Aoife, and she scurried over to the dressing table to set it down.

“I’ll fetch some hot water.” Aoife stated kindly, giving the royals another quick bow, before heading off towards the kitchen.

Vin stood still for a moment, before cautiously approaching the bed and sinking into the soft chair beside it. He gave Carmilla a quick study. She seemed paler, and her skin glistened with dewy sweat. Her cherry lips were chapped and irritated, and her features appeared slightly thinner than when he’d last seen her. The elf was properly ill, there was no questioning that. Lucas certainly hadn’t been well during his morning sickness, but nothing like this—at least, that he was aware of—and every fiber of his being was screaming at him that this wasn’t normal.

“Thank you for the tea.” Carmilla spoke, her voice hoarse and tired.

Vin nodded, but didn’t speak. The lump in his throat wouldn’t let him. Seeing her this way filled him with a guilt so unbearably deep that he couldn’t hope to see the bottom of it.

“Don’t look at me with that face.” Carmilla shot him a piercing glare. “I won’t accept your pity.”

Vin’s eyes flickered, and he swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. It was all he could think to say.

“Don’t be. I’m merely jesting.” She smiled apologetically.

“No, I mean…” Vin sighed, his brows upturned over shadowed eyes. “For this.”

Carmilla tilted her head, her eyes scanning over the defeated silhouette hunched in the chair beside her. Drawing a deep breath, she sharply forced it out through her nose as she shook her head.

“Vin…” She gave the bed a gentle pat, inviting the vampire to sit beside her.

He hesitated for a moment, then pushed himself up from the chair and slid over onto the plush mattress, the silk sheets shuffling softly beneath him. Once he was settled, Carmilla reached over and took his hand, giving it a light squeeze. Her chilled fingers sent a shiver up his arm.

“Please don’t apologize for this.”

“How can I not?” Vin’s eyes darted over her thin features. “This is… awful.”

“It certainly isn’t enjoyable, I’ll give you that.” She let out a huff of a laugh. “But, you can’t blame yourself for this. This isn’t your fault, you have to know that.” Her bambi, brown eyes begged him to understand.

But he couldn’t. Not while she was seemingly shriveling away, bit by bit, with the passing of each day. How long could she last like this? Her untouched breakfast had long since gone cold on the nightstand, the glass of water still nearly full.

A hand flew to her mouth, catching Vin by surprise, as she released her grip on the king’s hand, curling over the side of the bed, and vomiting into the waiting bucket. Her body wrenched as she heaved, and it reminded Vin of the way Lucas had been on the night of his courting party. The only difference was that he had been far less worried about Lucas then, than he was for Carmilla now.

Once the heaving stopped, her body hung limp for a moment as she panted fresh breath into her lungs. Spit sputtered into the bucket as she tried to rid her mouth of the sticky saliva and bile. Her throat had been burned raw days ago, and seemed to have reached the worst that it was going to get.

“Are you alright?” Vin placed a gentle hand on her back, his voice calm, but heavy.

“Mm-” Carmilla hoisted herself back up onto the bed, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “I’m fine.” She grunted.

Then, a thought occurred to him.

“I assume you know that vampires… need blood, right?”

“It had been mentioned, yes.” Her breathing was still harsh. “But I can’t even keep water down. I don’t think blood is going to be any different.”

“I may be asking a lot of you to humor me, but…” Vin wrapped his slender fingers around hers, pulling her hand closer to cup it within his own. “Would you mind trusting me?”

She swallowed hard, but he had a feeling it wasn’t nerves itching her throat. After a moment’s contemplation, Carmilla nodded.

“I trust you.”

Vin carefully removed his hands, drawing one up to his mouth. Twisting it around, he eased his sharpened fangs into the heel of his palm, slowly clamping down until it had been sufficiently pierced. The pain stung sharply for a moment, sending prickles up into his fingers, then lessened into a dull ache. As he withdrew, bitter blood flowed into his mouth, coating his tongue most unpleasantly—much the way that unsweetened cocoa would. He grimaced as he removed his palm, holding it towards Carmilla, blood slowly trickling from the fresh wound, down his arm, and soaking into his plum sleeve.

“The look on your face doesn’t exactly invoke confidence.” Carmilla joked, obviously disguising her apprehension.

“Vampires typically don’t care for the taste of their own blood.” He hastily sucked his tongue, doing his best to remove the foul flavor. “But, it should be fine for you. Well, as fine as it possibly can be. I hope.”

Carmilla gathered her nerves, disregarding the swirling unease in her stomach, and pulled Vin’s hand to her mouth. The blood was hot on her lips, and salty on her tongue. Vin’s fingers twitched as she sucked at his palm, but he didn’t make a sound.

When she’d taken all she could stand, she pulled her lips away, instinctively covering her mouth with the back of her fist, as if anticipating a quick return. As the blood settled, she realized there was no need for such precautionary measures, and withdrew her hand.

“Are you alright?” Vin asked, tucking his hand into his sleeve, compressing his shirt to the seeping punctures.

“I believe so.” Carmilla replied, sucking at the roof of her mouth, attempting to hide her distaste for the blood that still lingered there.

“And the morning sickness?”

“Calm for the moment.” Carmilla released a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”

Vin wrapped his arm around the elf, and hugged her close. His thumb gently stroked her arm as she nuzzled into him, allowing herself to relax in the comforting embrace of someone who understood.

“Anything you need, I am always here.” Vin whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her disheveled curls.

He felt her nod against his chest, and his previously firm resolve to tell her the truth about Lucas vanished.

Perhaps, another day, another time—preferably one that didn’t require the presence of a bucket. Carmilla had enough to worry about right now, she didn’t need anything else weighing on her. At least, that was how Vin justified it.

There was a knock on the door, and with a quick invitation from Vin, Aoife re-entered the room, carrying a bronze tea kettle, cupped with a thickly folded cloth.

“Pardon my interruption.” Aoife spoke softly, noticing the royals engaging in a friendly cuddle.

“Nonsense.” Vin waved off the apology. “I’m afraid I must be on my way, regardless.”

Carmilla lifted her head, and the vampire untangled himself, before sliding out of the bed, careful to collect the tea and elixir he’d set aside. The glint of the vial caught the corner of her eye, but she brushed it off—though, admittedly, the curiosity lingered, despite her best efforts to purge it.

“I trust you’ll take good care of her.” Vin gave Aoife a pleasant smile.

“Of course, your majesty.” The maid bowed.

And with a final, pitying glance, Vin vacated her chambers.

[matrica-a-novelized-actual-play]

Yufi was originally spec’ed with a weapon innovation, but that didn’t feel right since he’s conflicted about contributing to further bloodshed these days. I liked the idea that he diversified into armor and other gadgets, so here he is with his sexy new armor innovation redesign!

[pfeffermuhle]

𝕽𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖈 𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖞 𝕬𝖀 🗡️🏹

Ivan is an elf ranger who turns into a fox, Luka is an elf rogue