#dark haired mage ladies into danger

[inquisimer]

I'M COMING BACK FOR MORE with a poetry prompt for Cullen x Neria pls: "For stones, opening / is not easy / Staying closed is / less pain but / your anger finally / is more dangerous." (Margaret Atwood)

niri niri niri happy dadwc!! some WEWH Neria/Cullen for this week uwu

for @dadrunkwriting

wc: 776

~~~

Neria’s bare feet whispered across the tile of the Winter Palace, the soft pad of her footwraps contrasting sharply with the click of heels. No one was looking at her and yet she felt the weight of more than a dozen gazes prickling the back of her neck as she made yet another circuit about the ballroom.

At her elbow, Josephine fluttered with anxious pleasure. It was certainly something to see the ambassador in her element, even as she nagged and pleaded in murmurs hidden behind smiles. She was on about the Dowager now, and the precise correct moment for Neria to approach her, but as they rounded the banister near Lady Mantillilon, something else entirely caught Neria’s attention.

Cullen, absolutely dashing in his dark uniform and fur-lined half-cape, but increasingly uncomfortable as he edged away from the flock of frilly skirts who pressed into his space. His back hit the wall and a spike of anger pinned Neria’s ears flat against her head.

Orlais was a country of masks, of secrets and intrigue. They’d drilled this into her back at Skyhold, that nothing forthright or blatant would gain traction at the Winter Palace. It was only that knowledge that kept her lips from pulling back to bare her teeth in a snarl.

“Mind your dress, Inquisitor,” Josephine murmured, melting into the shadows with a furrowed brow as Neria stalked forward.

These vultures were not mages, but the force of Neria’s anger was palpable and it thinned the Veil enough to set them on edge. Their fans fluttered faster and their titters pitched higher as they pretended not to notice the Inquisitor’s approach.

Cullen had noticed, though, and he was too Fereldan to try and pretend otherwise. He undoubtedly felt the Fade warping to her anger, even without fresh lyrium in his veins, and his frantic eyes found purchase on her fearsome visage.

She was dressed as a taunt, a reminder, a threat. Leaves and vines in various metals twisted up her bodice in an unmistakably elven design and her skirts were but constructs of the Fade, energy from the Rifts and beyond the Veil, bent to swoop and flutter as she walked. She wore a half-cape of her own, a blood-red reminder of her allegiance with a decorative pauldron—dragon bone bent to powerful runes and Dalish imagery—capping her shoulder

She wanted to draw a fist of stone across the Veil and pummel these imbeciles to pieces. Wanted to pull the dagger from the small of her back and slash their ridiculous outfits to shreds, slice the foolish masks from their pathetic faces. But she felt the stares from her ambassador and spymaster, just paces away, and knew she could not, for the night was not yet through and to lose their access here would be to lose the world.

Instead she pushed her fury outward like a shield and the force of it pressed the foolish lords and ladies away from her commander. She walked across their absence, chin jutted out, and clasped her hands behind her back.

“Commander, if you would?” She inclined her head toward the balcony.

“As you say, Inquisitor.” His relief was a bit more obvious than Sister Nightingale might have liked, but preferable to, say, drawing his sword on any of the Orlesians. With a fierce glare to discourage any of his hazers from following, they passed out into the cool night air.

They were barely free of the ballroom when Cullen’s hand unclenched from the pommel at his hip and found the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I—thank you,” he said, sagging ever so slightly. “I am sorry to have pulled you from your more important duties.”

Neria turned on one bare heel and held her hands out for him to take, if he wished. He did so and she laced their fingers together, pressing gentle kisses across his knuckles.

“You did not pull me anywhere,” she told him. “I chose to walk away.”

She gestured toward the palace with their joined hands. “I cannot burn it down without condemning the world we’re trying to save. But I can—and will—let it smolder, because you are far more important than any secrets I could glean, any favors I could earn.”

She looked out across the gardens, suddenly conscious of how serious his gaze on her had grown. Mindful of her dress, her hair, Cullen tugged her to his side and brushed a kiss across the shaved skin behind her ear.

“I can endure.”

“I know you can,” Neria said. “But you already are—so many things. This does not have to be another.”

[maple-writes]

WHG 21 - The Big Day (Viper and Honey)

I have once again failed to come up with a title for these instead of using the prompt titles.

tagging @concealeddarkness13 @pen-of-roses @ratracechronicler (let me know if you would like to be removed, or if anyone would like to be added)

Somehow ended up being a bit over 2k words.

POV: Viper

--

The sun had yet to peer over the horizon at the hour I roused Honey, sleepy-eyed and sluggish but who knew better than to argue. The rest of the Aristata were still sleeping, deep enough that no one stirred as I waited for him to ready himself. As the youngest, and the newest, it wouldn’t hurt for me to pick on him a little bit with the occasional early morning chores. He followed me quietly through the dawn, slipping out of his tent and falling in at my side like a good dog trained to heel, yawning like a teenaged boy woken up too early.

Which he was, but I found no harm in letting him think I believed him when he had claimed to be twenty years old. Or that his given name was truly Honey Davis. Who was I to judge? He’d been trustworthy so far and so why bother questioning his motives.

It wasn’t like I’d ever let anyone know who I once was, where I came from, anything more than a few years before Winter and the others found me and freed me. Ever since Stark had dubbed me Viper the name stuck and so I became her.

Honey pulled his jacket tighter around himself, breath fogging slightly in the chill morning air. “Hey, Viper?”

I hummed and looked to him as we reached a small barn, a dim silhouette against the pale sunrise peering over the mountains far off to the edge of the valley. Dawn wind blew cool through the desert and in the distance a band of coyotes loped off to some unseen destination after their night under the stars. Everything seemed as it should be, but at my side Honey grew tense.

“I… I have a bad feeling about today.”

Pausing by the door to the barn Lady Alabaster had allowed the Aristata to use for our horses, I turned back towards him. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary when everyone went to sleep last night. Lady Alabaster’s boy was still gone, but nothing new had come up about him in days now. Nearly a week.

Honey had recently been apprentice to a mortician mage. They were known to occasionally have premonitions, if the gods favored them so. Perhaps he’d been shown something I’d missed.

Pulling open the door to the barn I waved him close enough to hear me whisper, “think we’re in danger?”

He paused, eyes wandering from the ground in front of his feet out to the desert and the indigo-blue sky lightning minute by minute. In the low light his eyes reflected bright and green like a cat in the night when the torch by the door caught his face in it’s glow at just the right angle. Not for the first time. Odd perhaps, but he’d proved trustworthy so it was none of my business to grill him on it.

“I… I’m not sure.” Honey mumbled, soft and private in the quiet air. “I can’t think of anything that’s happened, but I’m nervous. I had a dream last night.”

Oh? I leaned against the doorframe, dark skin and hair half blending with the sturdy wood of the barn. I tilted my head, crossing my arms. He ducked his head and rounded his shoulders and I raised an eyebrow. He shouldn’t have brought it up if he was going to be shy about it. Unwilling to take a non-answer I stood waiting and watching, letting him shift uncomfortably under my gaze until he took a long breath and stood up straight.

“You were there.” He swallowed. “You gave me your heart and let me eat it.”

I scrunched my face, eyebrows furrowing and my heartbeat suddenly louder and more noticeable in my ears. Sometimes mages would receive messages but if this were the case, what was I supposed to think of this? Goosebumps ran up my arms and I shivered in the wind.

I pushed the door open wider, my whisper coming as a hiss, “keep your guard up for now. Could be nothing, but after those wolven came after you I don’t want to take chances.”

He nodded and slipped inside behind me into the dim barn. Faint light shone in through high windows, catching specks of dust floating softly through the air. I took a long breath, taking in the warm, familiar scent of hay and livestock. Opening the lower windows brought more clean white morning light through to the inside of the barn. At the other end Honey slipped out with a bucket already knowing I would have sent him out to the well first thing.

Dull sorrow sunk aching in my chest. He was too young for this, for what would come of him if he stayed here. The boy was no mercenary. There was hope still for him to finish his training, but who was I to tell him that? Winter thought he would make a good addition. Who was I to disagree?

In a moment I would have to get started on cleaning and feed but first I stopped by the stall where my Cinnamon stood waiting for me. Lean and long-legged, I’d bought her off a sweet but clueless man who’d wanted a graceful horse for his young daughter and got in over his head with her stubbornness and antics and refusal to work nicely with his daughter. It wasn’t the girl’s fault, she was young and inexperienced and Cinnamon could be a challenge sometimes even for me.

I smiled as I stroked her nose and cooed warmly to her. Sometimes I got the sense that she pushed me on purpose, tested me just to see if she could, but she worked hard and listened when it mattered and had to be my best horse yet.

A low nicker behind me made me turn halfway, snorting at Platinum, the horse I’d trained for Winter, stretching her head out from the stall as far as she could reach towards me.

“Be patient,” I whispered, leaning over to give her a pat. “I’ll get to you don’t you worry.”

Gunshots rang out loud and sharp and I whirled. Just outside the barn.

“Viper! Viper help!”

I ran at the door, pistol drawn and ready. Etched with the snarling face of Raesi, dog spirit of protectors, it glinted in the morning sun as I slipped out of the barn. Around the corner of the barn I found him struggling against the grip of two young men, his gun knocked to the dusty ground and arms wrenched and cuffed behind his back. His cheek was red and he winced when they jostled him and sneered.

I whistled sharp and quick, raising the barrel of my gun and glaring at his captors. Shooting would be risky with his head so close to theirs, and his body overlapping the other two, but they didn’t need to know I would hesitate.

“And who might you be?” One of them, the taller of the two, gestured lazily towards me. “Do you know this monster?”

I swallowed, throat and chest tight. Even if I tried to speak it would only end up caught in my throat, the words blocked somewhere between my head and my voice. So I stood, unwavering, giving only a tilt of my head to acknowledge I’d heard him.

There were only two of them. If I were quick, and if I shot true maybe I’d have a chance but they could move or my hand could shift or my aim be off but just a touch but enough to hit Honey instead.

The tall bastard snorted. He grabbed a handful of Honey’s hair and forced his head back drawing a surprised yelp from the boy. “I don’t know what he’s told you, but this runaway is Rantha Cathartes. He killed five good, upstanding young men and women in Wayton taking them from this world and their families forever.” He craned Honey’s head farther back, leaning in to snarl in his face. “Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree with this one after all, eh? He’s a demon parading as a mage and this is what happens when no one has the guts to step in until it’s too late.”

Anger surged inside me and I hissed, my finger twitching on the trigger. Honey caught my eye, pale faced and scared but with a tiny shake of his head. Cathartes or not I couldn’t throw him aside like a scrap carcass to be chewed up by scavengers. It wasn’t his fault what his mother did. It wasn’t him who pulled the trigger to kill my parents and countless others who tried to stand up to her and her followers.

“You’re wasting your energy.” The other peacekeeper huffed, pushing Honey to turn and walk. “But don’t worry, as much as we’d like it he’s not coming back to face up to what he’s done in Wayton. It was good timing figuring out where he’d run off to and the request to send someone chosen to compete against the best of the best.” His eyes narrowed cruel and vicious. “So Rantha naturally won’t stand much of a chance.”  

The both of them laughed and I raised my gun. If they turned just a little more I had a clear shot but only one turned fully to force Honey to move. Hissing sharp under my breath I stalked towards them. If they wouldn’t give me a good shot I would just have to make one.

A hand closed on my wrist from behind and wrenched my gun from my hand and my arm behind my back. The pressure on my wrist made me freeze, stiffening long enough for them to snatch my other wrist and force cuffs around both. My heart picked up, racing in my chest. I yanked and pushed at the cuffs but they held tight, unmoving. Hard and inescapable. Dark and cold and damp and trapped. My skin crawled, crawled, up and down my arms my back.

A hard punch in the stomach snapped me back. I gagged and gasped for the breath knocked out but he, the taller vagrant, struck again harder than the last time. Pain ricocheted through my body and I spat up watery vomit. It dripped from my mouth as I fought and coughed, trying to catch a breath.  

“Not so tough now are you?” The taller laughed, shaking out his hand as my head fell forward.

“Stop! Don’t hurt her!” Honey sounded farther than he was and out of the corner of my eye, clouded and dizzy he struggled uselessly against his captor’s grip. “Please don’t!”

The remaining man shoved him roughly and forced his head down. I fought for breath and sucked it in just in time to glare at the fucker standing in front of me and sucked in enough breath to raise my head and spit at his face.

“You stupid bitch!” He struck me across the face with the back of her hand, pain stinging my cheek and stars dancing along the edges of my vision.

The one holding me tight leaned forward, his head next to my ear in a way that made my skin crawl and nausea churn in my gut. My chest tightened and my body stiffened like a rabbit caught in a coyote’s gaze.

“Since this one seems so keen to look out for our little runaway,” he smirked at his partner, voice low and dangerous. “Why don’t we let her go with him? Friend of mine said they’d been given a similar request down in Alekton

The taller one grinned. He reached forward and caught my jaw in his hand, forcing my head up. I glared but my mouth went dry and my legs shook. My wrists ached, a phantom of pain of skin chaffed and raw. Of rope and chain and cuffs and hands…

“Not a bad idea.” His eyes flicked up to the other with a sick smile. “You can take her to Alekton,” he chuckled, “and if they don’t want her you could always give her to that friend of yours.”

My throat cinched and my eyes narrowed. I jerked my head and lunged for the hand before me, snapping my teeth on the empty air when he just barely yanked his hand back in time.

“On second thought I’ll go with you. Doubt that Martin will need my help with Rantha.” He turned and waved back at me and the other. “Come on, let’s not waste anymore time here.”

[dino-fart]

Preview of The Prophecy

Pairing: Vampire!Strange Supreme x Female!Reader

Genre: Horror, Romance, Adventure, Mystery

Summary: You are a princess of a great kingdom. Your gift is foresight and every night you get different visions. One of the most recurring vision is your kingdom in ruins and ashes with you standing at the broken throne. You think nothing of this but a simple nightmare. But when your father passes away from an illness leaving you to be the next monarch, your visions start to become clear. The mage of the kingdom suggests for you to search for the great and powerful eldritch sorcerer. But the problem isn’t finding him, it’s getting him to help you. Will you succeed or will your kingdom fall?

Summary | Preview

“I will smite every. single. one of you!” Stephen growled in his chains. He was escorted into the throne room and brought to his knees by the knights. 

“My lady, I understand your concern over your visions but bringing him here is dangerous!” The advisor said walking with you to the throne room. 

You turned to him, “There is no other choice. I am still learning my powers, my mother is in mourning and our allies will not answer the call. My visions are getting worse...Something must be done.” 

The advisor sighed in frustration but nodded. You were right. 

You approached the dark sorcerer on his knees and glared at the knights. “What is this? I did not ask you to bring him in chains!” 

“My lady, be realistic, how else are we supposed to bring him?” One knight scoffed. 

“Undo his chains and be gone!” You ordered. 

The knights looked at each other and the advisor gestured them to do so. “Very well, your grace. But know this. You are not my queen nor will be.” One of the knights growled at you. 

“Just a silly little girl with powers.” The other said. 

You bit your tongue, not allowing their words to affect you, besides you had bigger things to worry about. 

“You are dismissed!” The advisor yelled and the knights left the room. 

“Shall I have them executed for their insolence, my lady?” A guard asked you. 

“I would like everyone to leave the room, please. I wish to speak to the sorcerer myself.” You said and everyone obeyed. 

The advisor stayed however, he was curious to see what you would do. 

“May I help you up?” You offered your hand to Stephen. 

“A princess wanting to help filth like me? You must be mad.” Stephen scoffed and stood up. 

You stepped back to give him space. 

He was finally able to get a better look at you. You had on a blue fitted dress with gold seams on the skirt, your hair was in a half updo, and atop your pretty head sat a silver circlet. He smirked at your expression, you were trying so hard to appear strong but he could smell the fear coming off of you. 

He grinned, showing off his fangs, “Well, princess, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Dividers By: @firefly-graphics​

Tagging: @strangeswife​, @strangelockd​, @thealleydog​, @wolfie-west​, @k1mikoz​, @fizzybubbletea​, @pinkthick​, @silver-shadow, @strangesthirdeye​, @mynamehasbeentakenbysomeperson​​​  

[liviavanrouge]

Win pt 2

Livia: *Sits at her desk, smiling to herself*

Sebek: Lady Livia?

Livia: *Looks at him, a sinister glow in her eyes* Yes...Sebby...

Sebek: Ah...n-nothing

Livia: *Hands him the paper she was writing on* Contact this person

Sebek: LADY LIVIA!!! HE'S DANGEROUS!!

Livia: *Laughs, smiling at him* I know! I need him for that reason!

Sebek: *Stares feeling fear shudder down his spine having always known that Livia got overly scary and calculative when getting revenge* I shall send this letter then but may I ask why you're sending this...

Livia: *Smiles and looks down* Thank you

Sebek: *Glances back at her walking out* She's in Livia Vanrouge mode...

Livia: *Stands up, humming quietly then giggles, her eyes glowing* I wonder how I can make the Senate squirm...

???: Can I help?

Livia: *Turns, looking curious*

Lilia: Or do you wanna do this on your own?

Livia: *Grins* You know I can do it Papa! I'll do this myself!

Livia: *Looks down* I'll have that damned Senate in the palm of my hand!

Lilia: *Stares at her then nods, leaving the room* Then I'll leave you to it

Livia: *Hums then opens a chest, pulling out a glowing gem, grinning* Oh how one wouldn't be able to resist this!

Livia: What do you think, Goldie

Goldie (Holy Cloud Fox): *Yips, his tail flicking behind him*

Livia: I agree! Nobody can resist a mage stone this powerful~

Livia: *Tilts her head to the side, then smirks, her eyes glowing* I wonder....

Goldie: *Stares at her curiously then yips*

Livia: What would happen if an...unfortunate accident occured...

Livia: Heh...he thought I wouldn't know about Maple....the sneak

Goldie: *Leaps down, trotting after her as she left the room*

~~~~

Maple: Jack!!

Jack: *Flinches then turns and runs off dragging Deuce after him* GOTTA GO!

Maple: Hehe he's still flustered around me

???: Is that so...

Livia: *Smiles, her hair up in a ponytail*

Maple: *Trembles forcing a smile, feeling a threatening aura come from Livia*

Livia: *Smiles in amusement* Not yours, but mine

Maple: Huh

Livia: Not yours! That boy is mine

Livia: *Leans close to her, smiling* I'm sorry that you seem to be confused

Maple: WHAT-!?

Livia: *Grins, her eyes glinting* He belongs to me, that boy is mine~

Maple: *Raises her hand*

Livia: *Grabs her wrist, staring her down* Go tell that Senate to watch his back...

Maple: *Falls to her knees stunned as Livia walked away* How...

-----

???: May I ask why you called for me?

Livia: *Beams, holding up a brightly glowing mage stone*

Anubis: *Stares in shock then reaches for it*

Livia: *Moves her hand away, Goldie in her lap* Ah ah ah~! Let's do business!

Anubis: Huh? What do you want from me?

Livia: The Senate's Downfall.

Anubis: *Stares then smiles maniacally* HAHAHA! I FEEL THAT VENGEFUL DARKNESS FROM YOU!!

Sebek: *Grabs his baton, trembling*

Livia: *Watches Anubis laugh then giggles* I wanna ask....are you willing to follow my orders perfectly

Anubis: Dirty work? Heh, I don't mind getting my hands filthy~

Livia: Here then

Anubis: *Snatches the mage stone grinning then perks up when the stone cracked* It's fake....

Livia: *Stands up and walks around the table, placing herself in front of him*

Sebek: LADY LIVIA!!

Livia: *Leans down grinning at Anubis* Did you think I'd give you the real thing? First you gotta prove your trustworthy, how can such a feared man be so gullible

Anubis: *Stares at her shocked* You....

Livia: I am Lilia's eldest blood child, Lady Livia Garcia Vanrouge, did you not think I'd learn a thing or two from him about revenge and gaining allies....

Anubis: *Narrows his eyes* Kid...you have got guts messing with me while we're bargaining...

Livia: And you've got guts walking into my domain without any form of protection, you may be a psychopath....but can you escape a school filled with students ready to have my back at any moment?

Anubis: *Stares at her stunned*

Livia: Oh dear! Imagine the chaos that'd cause, how quick you'd get caught and dragged off!

Anubis: Kid-

Livia: Do we have a deal or not, Anubis, if not you should watch your back on the way out~

Anubis: *Chuckles, smiling at her* Of course we have a deal kid!

Livia: *Moves back beaming* YAY!

Sebek: *Stares in relief as Livia sat back down in her spot*

Anubis: What do we start with first?

Livia: I want that Senate in a bird cage by the end of this, but right now it's a game of chess and You're my queen...so protect me well

Anubis: Understood!

Livia: Prince Askos might also join us, but for now you'll be my right hand!

Anubis: Just give me the order and it's done

Livia: *Nods, smiling before her face falls expressionless* Pleasure doing business

Anubis: *Nods knowing this was gonna be entertaining* Of course...I have a feeling I'll enjoy this

~~~

Lilia: *Smiles, his arms crossed over his chest* Heh, my daughter is quite cunning don't you agree

Nilo: She takes after you in some ways, Lilia

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

Receiving so much love in my oc post and getting some much needed words of encouragement from @bougainvillea-and-saltwater, it all gave me the confidence to post some more about my oc. I can't draw for the life of me, but I do have screenshots. So I present to you: Ravonna, my main oc. I say main, because I've been doing a lot of writing about and with her and I'm working on an enemies to lovers fic with her and Miraak, so she is the most well-rounded and detailed of my ocs. She doesn’t always wear warpaint btw, it depends how much time she has to get ready.

More info and backstory under ‘keep reading’! Likes, reblogs, comments, rambles about your ocs are very much appreciated!

Here she isss, Rumarin said he wanted some music and he needn't say more!

She grew up in Blacklight, in a tavern, with three father figures. One day, a wounded woman came in the tavern, barging in, holding a very small child. The woman was badly injured and looked like she'd been running from something for a long time. All she got to do was give the kid to the innkeeper and beg him to take care of her. After that, she dropped dead. The innkeeper, Endryn, a dunmer, kept that promise and raised Ravonna as if she were his own daughter, with the help of his mercenary brother (whenever he was at home) Teldryn and the tavern's ex-pirate bard, Hjaldir. Hjaldir is an extraordinary bard and taught her many songs, how to play several instruments and how to tell tales that captivate the people. The two were close and always joking around that Hjaldir might just be her biological father. After all, he was a dark haired nord, just like her.

She wanted to become a bard and go to all of Tamriel's provinces and sing and have a journal full of funny and exciting stories to tell. However, if she were to travel the world, she had to learn to defend herself. So she learnt magic. At first with Teldryn, then at the guild of mages. It's almost like she had an affinity for magic, quickly becoming a better mage than Teldryn.

Unfortunately, her life was turned upside down when she came home one day to find her adoptive dad, Endryn, assassinated. It looked to be the work of the Dark Brotherhood. This sparked a strong hatred for assassins and especially, for people who send assassins after someone. It’s cowardly to send someone else to deal with your problems. So she went on a quest to avenge him. First, she had to master the school of destruction, because her new-found quest was much more dangerous than travelling the world as a bard. She now had to deal with assassins. So, she ventured to Vvardenfell to search for the ex-Telvanni wizard that she heard rumors about. It turned out to be a very nice dunmer lady who didn’t agree with the Telvanni principles and lifestyle at all. After some time, she was ready to go out into the world, having mastered the school of destruction and doing decently in enchanting (because there is no way she'll wear full armor. That's heavy and hinders her movement. Enchanted robes all the way).

First she searched all of Morrowind for anyone who would have wanted Endryn dead, and she knew exactly who to look for. He was a very kind mer, too kind, maybe. He lended money to people in need and gave one guy a pretty big sum that he never got to get back. He fled Blacklight right after the assassination. She ended up finding him at the border with Black Marsh. After she dealt with him, however, she wasn't satisfied. She wanted to stop, or at least try to stop the Dark Brotherhood from killing innocents. She didn't want anyone to go through what she did, so she set off to find and destroy the guild. Black Marsh turned out to be extremely weird and poisonous with loads of unaccessible areas. No Dark Brotherhood could be settled here unless they were all Argonians, which was not the case. So she went to Cyrodiil.

There, she researched everything she could about the Dark Brotherhood. She spent most of her time in libraries, looking for any information she could. She didn't find anything useful in books, but she did hear rumours of a Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary in Skyrim. Meanwhile, one night at an inn, she met a young man who offered to pay her to take him along on her adventures. Lucien Flavius was his name. He was bubbly and cheery and he also loved to sing. Not the best when it came to defending himself, but the company was nice. They quickly became friends. Feeling like they've known each other their entire lives. They were having fun, raiding goblin caves and robbing Ayelid ruins. All that fun was spoiled, however when they got caught in the middle of a Stormcloak-Imperial fight right at the Cryrodiil- Skyrim border.

But it's all good, they escaped execution with the involuntary help of Alduin. They escaped the big bad dragon and headed to Whiterun to warn the Jarl of the return of dragons. They didn't, however get there, because they encountered a giant and a group of warriors fighting it. Ravonna struck the giant with a huge lightning strike and it turns out that the Companions don't like or trust outsider mages very much. One thing led to the other and she challenged the meaner, more talkative twin, Vilkas, to a duel that ended with both of them arrested in jail. Farkas quickly bailed his brother out of jail (it helped that they were members of the well-respected Companions of Jorrvaskr), but no matter how much Lucien bargained with the guards, they wouldn't release Ravonna. So Lucien went on his own to warn the Jarl, while Ravonna got to know her cellmate, Inigo, a little better.

When the dragon attacked, the whole city of Whiterun felt it. Ravonna finally convinced Inigo to work together and escape and fight the dragon. She wasn't going to let another city be ruined by a dragon, even if she died in the process, she could at least have peace of mind that she tried. Helgen affected her very much and she felt extremely guilty that she wasn't able to fight that dragon then and there.

They managed to lure the dragon to the watchtower and did everything they could to fight it. When guards started dying and Lucien got injured pretty bad, Ravonna conjured a huge wall that surrounded her and the dragon, trapping the foul creature with her. She fought like she never had before, using every bit of energy and knowledge that she had. When she struck the final blow the wall crumbled and everyone nearby was able to witness the Dragonborn absorbing that dragon's soul.

With a new purpose in the world, and the threat of Apocalypse, she realized that she had a much bigger prophecy to fulfill than she ever would have thought.

Personality-wise, she is a jolly spirit, despite everything, doesn't like to think about stuff too much and plan ahead. A very 'live in the moment' person, she loves to sing and joke around. Her favourite past time activity is probably sharing tankards of mead, stories and songs with fellow travellers and with her fellowship. She holds grudges, unfortunately. The type to never forgive and never forget.

As for her companions, she's got herself quite the fellowship by the time the fic starts, which is when she first encounters the cultists sent by Miraak. She's got Lucien and Inigo, of course, but Rumarin joins them after they meet while grave-robbing. He is very funny and fits right in. And if you read this short fic I did, you know how Marcurio joins them as well.

If you read this and bared with me through Ravonna's backstory just know that I love and appreciate you very much🥺❤️

[cheeseandstrawberrytartlover]

Long Before the Mantling

(Very old art)

The Banquet

It was odd for Vanus to actually go to banquet of the Aldmer Dominion, but sometimes it was necessary. Even for an altmer like him, knowing all of the etiquette was impossible. He has no idea how someone can remember all of it.

Vanus didn't even wear his normal robes this time. He was wearing a light blue robe that reached the floor. His hair was pinned up with a golden and pearl-decorated comb. Usually a hairstyle that you saw on noblewomen, but Vanus did not care for such restrictions.

After a few hours of conversation, the Great Mage was tired of so many people and made his way over to a more secluded hallway. To his surprise, he was not the only one who wanted privacy. At first Vanus Galerion thought it was a regular couple, but then he saw the golden, glowing eyes of the person being pushed against the wall.

The person looked straight at him and he saw that it was an altmer woman, but then she smiled at him in an oddly-familiar way.

"What- are you-"

The nobleman that was kissing her neck suddenly looked up.

"Can we not have any privacy?!"

"Apologies."

Vanus double-checked before quickly leaving. Yes, it was him. He disguised himself as an altmer woman.

The Great Mage immediately went up to a guard and whispered to him, "I think there is a Daedric Prince at this party."

"Which one?"

"Sheogorath."

Sheogorath knew that any second a bunch of soldiers would arrive.

Her new voice even scared her a little bit as she spoke, "Darling, let us move somewhere less... open."

The nobleman searched for a room and decided to pull her into a storage room. It was pretty dark, except for some wall-mounted candles. Perfect for what the Daedric Prince had planned.

Sheogorath moved towards her new lover and pushed him against a wooden crate. She listened as some armored people ran past the room.

"What was that?"

"Some soldiers must have seen someone dangerous at the party."

"Huh..."

"Sit down."

The nobleman smiled.

"As you please, my Lady."

The altmer nobleman sat down on the wooden crate and Sheogorath started to hike up her dress. She hasn't seen her legs so... hairless in quite a while. She pinned her skirt up in her bodice as she started to open the man's belt with one hand. Luckily, she has years of practice in it, otherwise this would quickly become awkward.

Sheogorath undressed the man so quickly that he got a little bit nervous.

"We have all of the time in the world, sweet flower!"

"Not if my husband notices that I am gone."

She carefully caressed his ear and then his face. Sheogorath has never been the most patient Daedric Prince, but especially in a situation like this where soldiers were searching for her.

Climbing on his lap and riding him was probably the easiest task of the day. He was showering her body with kisses that she could barely resist, leaning into each and every one of them.

She felt herself climaxing and before the nobleman could even say that he was arriving she grabbed him by his chin and tilted his head up aggressively. Their eyes met and she moaned, "Sleep."

The man nearly immediately collapsed backwards. Sheogorath sighed and then started to laugh to herself. After removing herself off the sleeping altmer, she fixed herself up. She pulled her skirt back down, fixed her bodice and eventually also her hair.

"A bit of food now and then I am done causing chaos on this boring party," Sheogorath promised herself.

After making sure she was pretty again, she peeked outside the door and made her way back to the party.

She immediately turned right and walked towards the banquet. She wanted some seafood, so she grabbed a few dipped shrimp and ate one after another, eyeing the Auridon steamed Mudcrabs.

"There he is!"

Sheogorath looked up and saw the Great Mage with a few soldiers.

"Aw, Vanus... how can you do this to me?"

"What did you do?"

"Not much. Let me just-"

The Daedric Prince grabbed a steamed crab and started to run for a nearby hallway, startling the other guests. Vanus attempted to run after him, but his feet were hurting from the flats he was wearing the entire time. The soldiers ran after her but the second she turned a corner, she was gone.

[nelkenbabe]

Ivy & Twine: To Confess

After a close call with some bandits on the road, Amaryll worked hard to keep Thom alive. In the aftermath, unbidden desires rise to the surface. But does Thom reciprocate?

full chapter on ao3: [x] or take it from the top: [x]

They went to bed without much prelude. Thom fell asleep as though he hadn’t gotten proper rest in days. Amaryll, on the other hand, could barely bring herself to close her eyes.

She listened to her friend’s breath in the darkness of their tent, afraid each one might be the last. Each time a snore was delayed, she sat up with a start, ready to do whatever was necessary to bring Thom back to life. Fear clenched her guts and twisted them inside her until dizziness and nausea threatened to overtake her. 

She wished for Vivienne to be here and accelerate Thom’s healing like she had done so many times before. She wished, desperately, that she had been less stubborn and included Cassandra into the mission. How hard would it have been? How hard would it have been to ask a mage from the tower to accompany her, as well? Perhaps then the attack wouldn’t have presented as close of a call, perhaps Thom wouldn’t be in danger.

Your pride. Your fault.

Your pride. Your fault.

If he died in his sleep as a result of complications caused by the hypothermia, it would be Amaryll’s fault. She would have to explain it to everybody. How her friend died an unnecessary death because she had been set on independence. 

But thankfully, Thom kept breathing. And each time a delayed snore ended up coming, tears of relief pricked her eyes. 

Two hours of that routine frayed Amaryll’s nerves like little else could have; eventually, she couldn’t take the loneliness of the situation anymore. She clumsily moved her bedding closer to Thom’s, close enough that she could see, even in the dark, strands of his long hair streaming down onto the pillow. 

Amaryll felt too awake to lay down, but sitting cross legged right by his back was soothing her a little. If only…

The discomfort in her belly subsided as a different type of ache spread in her chest. She didn’t consider the gesture at all, yet her hand reached forward to smooth over Thom’s hair. His next snore resembled a silent groan and Amaryll pulled away until he descended deeper into sleep. 

If only…

If only he knew how dear he was to her. There was something about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on, that filled her with a hunger. She felt like a canyon when beside him, ready to hold whatever he was willing to give. All that dedication, the devotion, if only it could be directed at her and not at her title. These past few days, it had felt like it could. As if he could love her, truly love her, and embrace her as she was.

She would have done anything for him in this moment, anything at all. 

If only…

A push inside her had Amaryll lean over him, press her lips onto his stubbled cheek. He stirred like he had before, his head jerking upwards a little, even with his eyes still closed. Amaryll raised herself a bit though she didn’t completely pull away, and instead started to caress her friend’s hair again. Brushing a few long strands out of his face, letting her fingers scrape over his scalp. 

“Inquisitor-” a sharp sigh interrupted what he was going to say. “My lady. What are you-”

“I just wanted to check on you,” she said quietly. “Is this alright?”

Another low, long sigh escaped the sleepy man as she massaged the back of his head in circular motions. A sigh that spoke of comfort and of the daze of sleep. 

“It’s nice,” he finally replied, voice husky and deep.

Emboldened, Amaryll pulled her fingers from his hair and lowered herself to place another kiss on top of his cheekbone. She saw and felt him turn, a little, as if to look at her in the darkness. As if to turn his face closer to hers. He said nothing, but neither did he pull away. 

Amaryl swallowed, hard, and ignored the the heating of her breath to bring her right hand over and cup Thom’s bearded cheek. To push a few strands of hair behind his ear. To pretend that she wasn’t aching for closeness.

It would have been easy. It would have been so damned easy to kiss him now, to claim what she wanted. What she had been wanting. 

If only…

“Thom-”

If only he could call her by her name. Three syllables strung together in that gravelly voice, and she would be his. Damned be the consequences and the complications. Damned be her fear of being known, of being a disappointment, of becoming a hated little thing.

Please, she begged silently. I am here. See me. Pull me closer. 

“My lady?” she heard him rasping, voice as heady and heavy as she felt herself. 

She had half a mind to tell him. Say my name. And the spell would be broken. She needed to hear it, hear him say it, so that she could know that she existed. 

But she couldn’t ask for it, now could she? If he didn’t come to her willingly, then what was this but a manipulation? An abuse of power? What were her feelings worth if they were pushed onto somebody else?

Thom was still looking up, inches away from a would-be kiss, pressing his cheek into Amaryll’s palm. 

“-I was so worried for you,” Amaryll finally said, somewhat dejectedly, with a soft breath out. 

Thom’s body softened with his next exhale as well.

“I will live, my lady. Thanks to you.”

She smiled.

“I love you, you know that?”

A sharp inhale in the darkness.

“I- my lady, I am not sure...”

 Amaryll once again leaned forward. She pressed her lips on his for a chaste, quick kiss.

“Lift your head, will you?”

He did as he was told, and the woman shifted her body in a way to snake her left arm under his nape, to place his head on her chest. Chivalrous as he was, Thom draped his blanket over her to share along with his arm, and so they laid together. Awake for far longer than they would admit to each other, yet aware that the other was not yet sleeping.

Amaryll stroked Thom’s hair as if she’d never done anything else, until the light outside tinted the tent’s canvass a lighter beige.

“You’re so comfortable,” Thom heard her mutter into his hair before she drifted off to sleep. “I’ve never lain with anyone so comfortable.”

He swallowed everything he could have said in response. Every humble or dismissive response, every proclamation of passion that could have made its way onto his tongue. 

Birds outside started to announce dawn, and he could not for the life of him fall back asleep. His ear and cheek pressed against the Inquisitor’s chest, he realized that which he had kept from himself for so long.

“I love you too,” he whispered to the woman whose fingers were still buried in his hair. “Amaryll.”

She didn’t hear.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Conquered - (5)

<<<Prev Next>>>

“I am no one’s … lady.”, I spoke, my voice cutting through the silence in his tent. But he only cocked his head to the side and huffed a laugh.

“It’s quite obvious why you are here.”, my tone was accusatory but I wasn’t here to play nice.

“Getting straight to business. I like it.”, he lowered his voice.

“Why don’t you just buy gold from us?”, I was unable to tell of his motive, his intention behind his scheme. If it was mere trade, then it could have been sorted easily. I was only interested in his tarnished reputation and the fear it could inflict upon my enemies.

“Where’s the fun in that?”, he waved his arm about as he sat on his make shift throne. A mechanical sound following him everywhere.

“In return for your security, we can trade resources from my kingdom. That would suffice wouldn’t it? This wedding needn’t take place.”, I wanted to leave, his presence an annoyance, but diplomacy needed a steady hand.

“I am no one’s … watch dog.”, he sighed dramatically but there was a bite to his words.

“Then why are you here?”, I asked impatiently. His head lifted, the hood still covering half his face but I could see the tilt in his mouth, a proud smile. He was assessing me.

“To even out old scores.”, he finally said and it only added to the mystery. Today was the first time I had met him, even so I would not have shared a past with the likes of … him.

“I’m am no one’s .. pawn”, I seethed. If a game was to be played then I was in control. He hummed cooly.

“But that’s all you are. A woman on a throne that was never hers. That the streets are much closer to home than that crown on your head.”, he spat out as if it were a fact. That he too couldn’t stand my presence and for a turn it only angered me further.

He pushed away from his seat, faint light touching his chin. His skin looked tan, his cheekbones taut, his lips plump and dark. But it was the markings that were true to the reports and gossip. His whole body was apparently covered in it.

“How does it feel to have all that potential trapped inside?”, he purred as he circled me, though my stance was confident my thoughts wavered. A fear engulfed me and I gave it away as I swallowed.

His finger traced the edge of my corset, the edge of my waist and my breath hitched in my throat.

“Wound so… tight.”, I felt his breath skim the top of my ears and it felt as though I had lost the authority with which I had arrived first.

I retracted from his touch, it felt foreign and cold. Almost as if he had burned my skin.

“You hide behind your cloak only to aid in propagating a mystery?”, I jut out my chin and now he was the one to swerve towards me

I could see the side of his lips curve.

“No”, he grumbled.

“I am a sight to behold”, he said proudly as he pulled away his hood.

I couldn’t help it, the way I construed my face. The stories were true. The scars were real and the tattoos looked as though by age they had become a part of his skin. He was like a nightmare you tend to remember. His hair fell forward, they were cut to be jagged and choppy, long enough for him to tie it back but instead he preferred the mess.

My initial expression of intimidation vanished, it happened once before, in the woods I went on a hunt, set up to entice the neighboring king to become my ally. But it didn’t go as planned when I got separated from the party for the prey we were hunting, forest deers, somehow disappeared.

I knew these woods well, my mother was a forager and she taught me all the signs to look out for danger. This was one of those instances, the absence of deers meant there was a predator around. It was always rumoured but I believed it to be another story used to scare children into their bed time early.

The fabled Lenars ruled these parts. Although no one had encountered them before, they were told to be creatures of old whose blood contained more magic than mages could obtain. But as I tried to find my way, I lost balance when my horse grew startled and threw me over. It yanked it’s head with it’s ears pinned back when my body took the impact.

The pain shot through me as my vision blurred but when it cleared, I saw the reason why the trees remained silent. I couldn’t breath. It’s eyes were on me. Dark purple. I sat where I fell and felt fear lick my bones because it drew closer.

As big as my horse, stripes on its fur and claws of gold. It’s feet threaded the floor with such lightness I thought it was a figment of my imagination. But it wasn’t, it looked at me with it's feline face as though it could sense my soul but when the initial fear passed, there was this state where my chest grew tight but I couldn’t see anything else. Some part of me could feel the power running through it veins as though we we made of the same substance. I froze sure this would be my end, when in the blink of an eye, it too vanished. I could never really tell if the encounter was real or not.

But he towered over me now, his hazel eyes so light they could be yellow that held the same weight of magic as they bore into mine, trying to read my thoughts or see my soul. Though he looked formidable, I eerily felt calm just like I had been in the woods, with a blind hope that he wouldn’t hurt me.

The tip of his ears had been pierced with sharp pieces of bone as they perked up, his brows furrowed as though he had found something, as did mine. I could sense the power he commanded. As a moment passed, his curious anger turned into a vulnerable pause, that my distain for his appearance had actually in some manner hurt him. He looked away and I did the same as though I was unenthused, turning to leave.

When he caught my arm,

“You are not well suited to handle what is it come”, he looked sincere.

“And I do not like my authority questioned.”, I matched the tone of his voice.

“Heed my instruction.”, his eyes traced the features of my face as though he was trying to find the perfect spot to plunge his dagger.

“Let go of my hand.”, I said as I felt his hold ease. Tugging away my arm, he took a step back when I caught a glimpse of his feet. Metal, like a knight’s boot. I felt uneasy, as though I looked at something I shouldn’t have.

“Either you agree to my terms or you’re free to leave.”, I looked at my hand, rubbing my wrist where he had caught me. But my remark had only angered him.

“I never wish to be in the same land as your knight. So being here isn't as pleasant.”, he spit out and it got a hold of me.

“Why?”, I asked instantly. Obi wan never spoke of him. But to my surprise, he smiled, one of vengeance and spite.

“You might want to ask him about my legs.”, he narrowed his eyes and I felt my pulse quicken. As much as I convinced myself his words held little value, his suggestion stunned me.

“As for helping you,”, he paused, a sudden softness in his voice. “I know the anger you feel.”, he spoke as though he knew of the pains I carried.

I huffed, he was born to an aristocrat and only at the start of this conversation he had made his thoughts clear with regards to my past. He knows nothing of what I truly feel or the pains I carried, neither was I here to have a sentimental chat.

“You can reserve your pity, I need none of it. Call off the engagement, whatever that is to come, -

“I couldn’t care less about the wedding.”, he cut me off.

“I know of his plans.”, his eyes gleamed orange as he watched the fire.

“Why go out of your way to warn me?”, I asked, curiosity had gotten the better of me.

“Do not mistake my cunningness for kindness.”, He said with the ghost of a smile, as though he thought me to be naïve.

“I have a vendetta.”, he faced me and with that I could agree. I had my own against the emperor.

“Then I will convene my council in the morning.”, I said and to my surprise he dipped his head.

“Thank you, your Majesty.”, he smirked and it irked me, how he discredited my standing with his snide remarks. I didn’t aim to feed his attitude with a response, so I left before his eyes could find mine again.

[talesofmetalandmagic]

Xerath the Decoy

As kids, Azir and Xerath weren’t that similar to one another. Azir was bigger, taller, with thicker features that made all young noble ladies (and guys, let’s be real) swoon and a darker tone of skin; Xerath was skinny, with a slouched posture (a sad relic of habit) and a finer, less “imperial” face.

There’s also the slight fact that Azir had long lush brown dreadlocks, glowing with fine oils and ointments and dedicatedly primmed, while Xerath had thin, straight white hair he’d cut short by himself with any blade he would find. Hardship made his hair lose their color in his youth. But even if they were both shaved bald, it’d still be hard to mistake one for the other.

This would not phase Their Imperial Majesties. After Azir’s siblings were taken they’d force Xerath to impersonate their child whenever Azir was to be left alone. He’d wear a loose tunic and cloak to make up for his smaller build, cover his hair with a shawl or a Nemes and wear wedged sandals to look taller. A flawless decoy of the real thing.

“I don’t want you to be hurt”. Azir would tell him whenever he was told to hide. “We should find someone else to do this”.

Azir doesn’t seem to see the problem in the whole “let’s put some rando in deathly peril to protect the prince”, he just boils it down to “I love Xerath so someone else should be in danger instead”.

“I’ll be alright. You just… be quiet.” Xerath would say. He’d kiss Azir’s forehead and let him go into hiding as he took his spot as a decoy.

Usually nothing would happen, Xerath would mostly be bored. One time, however, he was in fact mistaken for the real prince Azir and taken away as a hostage.

Knowing his duty, he’d keep the pretense and refuse to uncover his white hair until they’d be far off and Azir would be out of trouble.

As for himself… he truly was alright. He might have been a teenager, but he was already a powerful mage. Those helpless bandits were left in the desert, torn to pieces, food for jackals and birds of prey and snakes and other beasts. Xerath would ride back to the Royal Palace in one piece, climb back into Azir’s chambers and slip back in place before anybody realized he was gone.

Not that anyone would care. Maybe not even Azir.

And as his sweet prince came back to him and noticed how scuffled he looks, covering him in hugs and kisses and requesting to be told what happened, Xerath started to realize maybe their love isn’t as pure as he hoped.

Years later, the tables have turned. Xerath is a mage as powerful as few in all of Runeterra, and Azir, while Ascended, is his prisoner. The trauma of being seen as disposable still burns strong in Xerath, and he wants Azir to know what he went through as he spent his time in hiding with sweet Nasus by his side.

So he tampers with his dreams and puts him in his place. Sometimes it’s Azir as a teenager, as he’d be back then. Sometimes it’s him as an adult, right before his botched Ascension. Sometimes it’s him as a divine hawk, as helpless as a kid under those arms. Being tossed around, hand clamped on his mouth, thrown in the back of a coach and riding off into the stars know where. And those ropes biting his skin, the harsh words in his ears… the promise to send him back to the Emperor piece by piece if he doesn’t pay the ransom. Promises that sometimes, only in those dreams, are fulfilled.

Azir always wakes up screaming and sweating from those nightmares, panicking in the constricting darkness. No more. Nothing ever changes, or stops hurting – not even when Xerath summons him to talk after a particularly harsh nightmare where they almost cut off his ears.

“Are you sorry, now?”

“Yes, my lord. I’m sorry. I couldn’t imagine… anything.” Just make him content and you’ll be fine for a while.

“Yes, you can. Thanks to me. That’s why we’ll keep doing it for a while. Until you’ve learned. Piece by piece.”

“No!” He knows what it means. It’s not real, but… it feels so. He’s sorry. He’s sorry. “My lord, there must be another way to…”

“No, Azir. Kiss my hand and be quiet, I revoke your right to speak.”

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Forgotten Ties - Chapter 16 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

The cabin wasn't even in sight yet when Nim emerged from between the trees looking wary.

He watched the two of them for a moment before lifting his hand in a cautious wave.

"Hello," Aris called out.

"This is a bird lady I found in the woods," Skye explained when Nim got closer. "Her name is Aris. She says there are other people who we could go and join and I said she should talk to you and Marigold about it."

"Well, we'd better go talk to Marigold about it, then," Nim said. "I'm Nim, by the way."

"Oh," Aris said like that meant something to her. "Your mum isn't named Talvi, is she?"

Nim had been turning to start leading them back to the cabin but that brought him to an immediate stop.

He turned back to Aris.

"You know my mum?"

"She's with the other group. She wanted to try to find you but she didn't know where to even start. When she was in prison, they wouldn't tell her where you were."

"So she's out now? She's okay?" Aris shrugged.

"Well, she's a mum. She'll be okay when she has you back with her and not before. But yeah, she's in one piece, which is more than can be said for the prison she was being kept in."

"Fuck," Nim said as he smoothed a hand through his dark hair. "I really thought she was dead. I made myself just accept it. But she's not. She's alive."

"Last I checked, yeah," Aria said. "Let's get back to your other friend and I'll explain the rest."

Nim seemed deep inside his own head as they walked back to the cabin.

He wasn't smiling but Skye didn't think that meant he wasn't happy about his mum.

Some kinds of happiness were too deep and raw and overwhelming for smiling.

Nim must have told Marigold he'd smelled something strange before he went off to find them because she was the only one outside of the cabin when they got back. "

Hi," Aris said.

Marigold shot Nim an uncertain glance.

"Hello."

"This is Aris," Nim explained. "She's in contact with another group of people who are hiding out. She says my mum's with them."

Marigold's eyes went wide.

"Your mum? She's okay?"

"Aris said so and she knew my mum's name, so... yeah. She's okay."

The door to the cabin cracked open and a couple of tiny faces peeked out.

Jay tried to get them away from the door but it only ended up getting pushed open wider to reveal even more children.

"Oh," Aris said. "You have little kids with you."

"Yeah," Nim said. "Kind of a lot of them, actually. That's not a problem for the other camp, is it?"

"Staying there? No. Getting there?"

Aris pressed her lips together and tilted her head from side to side.

"If you've been out here at least a few days, you probably don't know but a brand new mountain range has been rapidly growing and it's between you and the other camp. It's unnaturally icy and getting bigger every day."

"A mountain range?" Marigold asked. "What do you mean?"

Aris shrugged.

"I mean what I said. It's growing up out of the ground. The Fae can do a lot more than any of us realised and ever since the humans got violent, they've not holding back anymore."

"So what does that mean for us?" Nim asked. "Are the kids too little to make it across?"

"I don't know," Aris admitted. "It would be dangerous but it's also dangerous for you to stay here where you'll probably eventually be found. The humans aren't so big on taking prisoners anymore. Not unless you're a mage. Things are getting messy in their own way there, let me tell you but enough of them have surrendered that they're the only group that aren't shot on sight at this point."

Marigold sat down on the rough wooden fence that encircled the garden.

"It's been less than a week. Things are really so bad already?"

"Yeah but they may as well be, right?" Aris asked. "Rip the bandaid off and get started on the path towards whatever comes next."

"Are we going to go over the mountains?" Skye asked.

"We have to," Marigold said. "If Nim's mum is on the other side and the journey's only getting harder by the day, it's not even a choice. Aris is right, anyway. We're not safe here."

"Thank you," Nim said. "I wouldn't abandon you if you wanted to stay but... my mum."

"I know," Marigold said. "One of us deserves to have someone."

"Great," Aris said. "I'll be honest, my plan was to just scout people out and point them in the right direction but I'll stick with you instead. With the kids, you'll need all the help you can get."

"Thank you," Marigold said. "The only problem is that we're really not equipped to climb an icy mountain. I tried to pack warm clothes and practical shoes for the kids but I wasn't expecting them to survive more than a trek through the woods and some slightly chilly nights."

"There's an abandoned town not too far from here that's along the way," Aris said. "You could pick up some things there."

Nim frowned.

"An abandoned town?"

"Well, abandoned as of yesterday. See, the humans decided that the best way to reduce the enemy threat was to cremate the bodies of fallen hybrids so that the Fae couldn't bring them back as anything else."

Aris let out a breath through her nose and shook her head.

"Yeah, like that'd work. You know what broke your mum out of prison, Nim? A big, dumb rock the Fae brought to life. Smashy smashy. If you take everything else away, they'll use sticks and leaves and geriatric tortoises to make something to fuck you with if they really want to. But hey, they also won't say no to a bunch of corpses all in one place and that's what happened to that town."

"That's awful," Marigold said. "Just... all of it. This is terrible for everyone."

"That's war for you," Aris said. "Though normally there are at least a handful of rich fucks who come out ahead. Not sure anyone's really winning this one."

"Hmm," Marigold agreed. "Well, if the mountain range is only getting more hazardous with time, I suppose we should leave right away. I'll get the children ready."

"Okay," Nim said. "I'll get everything useful packed up."

"And I will eat a snack," Skye said. "For walking energy."

[celestialarchon]

The Celestial Archon

Chapter Two: The Moonlight Phenomenon

Genshin Impact x F! Reader

Warnings: major Genshin Impact Spoilers! Possible grammar errors.

Tag list: To Be Added. (sorry it needed to be published!)

With the return of a mysterious archon, celebrations began! The night was filled with laughter, food, and memories being made. One person was amiss during the celebration, Mona still found herself unsettled and unable to be as excited as the others. An eerie feeling of unrest and anxiety has settled over our esteemed astrologist as our beloved heroes celebrate.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I’ve finally found you,” Mona’s intense astrology session was interrupted by a cheery high pitched voice.

“Hello, Seraphim.” Mona turned to greet the beautiful woman.

She nearly gasped as the woman walked in, her hair now styled and her eyes shining brighter than before, the mysterious tattoos seemed to have faded and though she was still striking she looked far more human than before. The Celestial Archon merely smiled at the woman’s surprise and stepped towards her, hand out.

“We should talk, my child. Fate had brought us together, an astrologist with a water vision instead of a celestial vision is strange enough.” The woman was calm but not cold as Mona took her hand.

Mona was warm as the gentle archon interlocked their fingers and led her to the corner of the room, sinking down into a comfy chair and pointing at the one next to her. Disappointment creeped up in the astrologist as her idol released her hand. It was quickly replaced with embarrassment and a soft flush across her cheeks. Mona was wholeheartedly captured by the mystery goddess.

“I’m sure you’re aware,” The bright eyes goddess sighed, “That my arrival in Teyvat has stirred up some trouble.”

Mona frowned slightly, “There was already trouble, your sudden appearance is not the cause of it.”

“That’s good, but I still feel that my presence is going to stir the pot a bit. I am connected to all the stars and spaces of this world, I can feel and see things so deeply and I am well aware that there are challenges coming. It’s annoying in some ways.” Her eyes were distant again.

Words were lost on Mona for a moment. She couldn’t begin to imagine how stressful it was to feel so deeply, to constantly be overwhelmed by information and one’s connection to the world. Every piece of text written about the Celestial Archon was very vague. Information on the god of stars was hard to find and many details had been lost, yet one thing seemed to stay the same in ever piece of information Mona had consumed.

Even when the world was teeming with elemental energy and gods were far more common, the goddess of the sky, Seraphim, was an oddity. Before the Archon war, Seraphim was a lone wolf being without many ties. The last god of stars kept to herself and had no desire to interfere with the other’s problems, despite knowing so much of them. It was incredibly lonely and sad.

“You said it’s strange that I have a water vision,” Mona finally spoke.

“Yes,” The archon clicked her tongue, “Had I been around, somebody like you would’ve received a vision from me. However, you did not receive one of my visions and ultimately that should’ve impacted your abilities over astrology but it did not. You are quite the gifted character, aren’t you Miss Mona?”

Mona’s face was tomato red at the words of the beloved celestial archon, “I am honored to be complimented by the goddess of stars.”

“You’re very formal,” The starry eyed goddess laughed.

“Excuse me,” the two were interrupted by none other than the acting grandmaster, “I would like a word with the Lady of the Stars.”

Mona was hesitant, not wanting her idol to slip away but nodded and escorted the woman to the door. She was a bit dissatisfied with the conversation they’d had, wanting to know more and more of her long awaited god. The woman turned back to Mona, eyes twinkling, and embraced her. The normally level headed and somewhat haughty astrologist stiffened in shock but returned the warm hug. A sigh escaped Mona’s mouth, but she didn’t mind. The goddess was warm and something about her affection put Mona at peace.

“I am so lucky that somebody as beautiful and gifted as you awaited my return, Mona Megistus. Until we meet again, my darling.” The woman’s grasp around Mona tightened as she whispered in her ear.

The water mage watched as the strange goddess gracefully glided away with Jean. She was ethereal with the moonlight filtering in from tall windows, her skin illuminated as she hung on to every word Jean said. Even the confident and ever busy acting grandmaster found butterflies swarming her abdomen at the sight of the goddess. Jean felt as if she could be swept away by the young woman.

A part of Jean felt guilty for several reasons. As acting grand master, it was her duty to know about the citizens of Mond, it was her duty to work without personal emotions interfering, and her duty to oversee the safety of all the wind borne citizens. The Celestial Archon was challenging all of these duties. It was only natural for an astrologist to be obsessed with a god of stars, and Jean had interrupted the conversation. The Dandelion Knight couldn’t help but feel an innocent sort of crush on the goddess, she was kind and beautiful and she really seemed to want to get to know everyone. Ultimately, Jean was also aware of the danger a new archon posed.

Even so, the beautiful knight couldn’t help but want to push all those thoughts aside and capture the attention of the goddess for hours. She shook off that thought, attempting to focus on her duty as Mondstat’s respected Grand Master. Jean explained the general politics of the city of freedom and the individual jobs of the knights of favonious. She even went as far as to explain the adventurer’s guild and the recent trouble with Storm Terror. The Celestial Archon hung on to every word, nodding and asking occasional questions.

Jean took the time to explain the place they were in, a place between Mondstat and Liyue, and the teleport points that marked both countries. She was diligent and had already prepared some documents for the 8th Archon, maps and other things needed in the world. Jean had even communicated with others to ensure each safe place for the archon was marked. The allied domain was the middle ground, but Mondstat welcomed the new Archon with a living place and much to do. Liyue had also prepared a small home in the city for her.

The archon stared in wonder at the map. The knights of Favonious had prepared a room for her in their own head quarters, even the esteemed Tycoon had set aside a room. Wangshuu Inn welcomed her and Liyue Harbor gave her quarters close to Rex Lapis. Small notes were written for her, both Xiao and Diluc noted the stars were best seen from where they were while the traveler and Paimon had starred their favorite places to eat.

“Ah, Master Jean.” The Goddess spoke slowly, bowing.

“Please, Seraphim, there’s no reason to be so formal!” Jean’s voice rose nervously, “You are an archon after all.”

“Yes, that’s true. You do not serve me though, please refer to me as my chosen name. Formalities aren’t my taste much.” The Archon remarked bashfully.

Jean nodded, rose dusting her cheeks.

“I,” The Archon sighed, “Really need an open space so I can, uh, deal with my weapon situation.”

“Oh, oh!” Realization hit Jean.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” Jean babbled nervously, “Here let us go out to the cliffs, it should be okay, right?”

“Mhm,” The goddess followed the knight to the exit.

Aether and Paimon were also by the exit, turning at the sound of approaching foot steps. Aether grinned and waved at the Celestial Archon, she waved back and beamed. Paimon immediately took off, throwing herself into the Archons arms as the woman giggled. Jean’s face was priceless, attempting to process how this small otherworldly creature could just tackle and archon without shame.

Aether and his companion followed the two women, curious about the weapon another archon would wield. The group made their way to the edge of the cliff, the stars seeming extra bright and the moon full. The goddess lowered herself, feet on the lush grass and put her hand forth, palm out. Swiftly, she struck the air in front of her with her pointer finger, an unfamiliar constellation connecting at each point.

“Return to your master, Destroyer of Divinity.” Her words were clear and calm.

The constellation burst into a ray of white light, Aether covered his eyes as Paimon whined. Darkness fell again and he opened his eyes, gasping at the sight in front of him. The goddess held a long weapon close to her body, above her shoulder was a large opalescent curved blade, below the hip on the opposite side, another shimmering curved blade could be seen. No weapon in Teyvat was even similar.

“I-Is is that a scythe?!” Jean sputtered.

“Aha, well yes,” The goddess blushed at their reactions, “Destroyer of Divinity is an unusual weapon, meant to slice through dimensional and spatial barriers. I didn’t mean to shock you.”

Aether stood, mouth agape, “Even its name is terrifying! What the hell?”

“Ahahaha,” the archon continued to laugh nervously, “Well, its existence is basically to bring judgement from the heavens upon those deserving so yeah it’s a bit intimidating.”

Aether nearly screamed. How could she say something so casually?

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The traveler was feeling a bit nervous, as anybody would if an Archon decided to tag along for their daily commissions. Paimon and the Celestial Archon chattered away as Aether spoke to the Katheryne in Liyue. It did not help that the three had left before the others awoke and the Celestial Archon had left a note declaring it as a “friendly date.”

The last thing Aether wanted was to piss off literally any of the adepti, the Geo Archon himself, and even Jean who had taken a very noticeable interest in the goddess. A cloud seemed to look over the blonde but Paimon didn’t notice. The eighth Archon gave the teenager a sympathetic smile and put her hand on his shoulder, attempting to ease his nerves. Only one thing could make the situation worse, and unfortunately that particular thing was heading straight towards Aether.

“Let’s run,” Aether grabbed the startled archon’s wrist and dragged her to the teleport point nearby, ignoring the calls of a certain troublesome individual.

The archon chuckled, “I didn’t know daily commissions would be so exciting!”

Aether smiled sheepishly and let go of her wrist, trying to focus on which commission to start with. He was distracted by a sudden commotion, people yelled out as a hooded figure darted past the trio. Liyue Harbor’s guards thundered after the thief, knocking the poor panicked goddess off her feet.

The eight archon shut her eyes and prepared for the impact of the fall, but was yanked back by a pair of strong arms.

“Hey, girlie. Hold still.” A charming voice said.

The goddess watched as the lanky ginger haired man moved forward and shot an arrow, narrowly missing all the guard and hitting the suspicious character in the back. Aether’s eyes were filled with shock and panic at the sight of the man. Immediately, the goddess side stepped away from her hero, on high alert.

“Now,” He turned to her beaming, “What exactly is such a beautiful young lady doing with this kiddo?”

Her starry eyes met his azure eyes, “I’m just a new adventurer from Mondstat, learning the ropes from the best.”

“Hmm?” His gaze was questioning, “Well then, I’m Childe. Number 11 of the Fatui Harbingers. We should definitely get to know each other.”

The goddess moved to Aether in a quick swift movement. Suddenly, she wanted very much to escape Liyue Harbor. The Fatui were trouble, the goddess was new to the era but even she knew that they were dangerous. It was one of the first matters addressed at her arrival. She no longer knew the Cryo Archon, and this Tsarita sounded troubling.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” an annoyed voice chimed in, averting the red head’s attention.

A shorter man with a large hat and ominous aura stood behind the tall harbinger. Aether tensed up and the goddess wrapped her arm around his shoulder. Slowly, the trio made their escape at the expense of Childe. The older harbinger was chewing the younger man out for flirting and wasting time, both harbingers bickered as the traveler and his companions fled.

“You shouldn’t be wasting time on trying to get laid you, fool.” Scaramouche scowled, still ripping into his subordinate. “Especially not that woman, even from a mile away I can tell she’s trouble. You’re a harbinger not a host, get your shit together, Tartaglia.”

Childe smirked, looking down on his superior, “So you noticed her, too. I wonder what someone like that is doing with my favorite traveler.”

“We should alert the Tsarita of that girl,” Scaramouche mumbled, avoiding the earlier comment.

“I actually agree,” Childe’s eyes narrowed, “I was hoping to see for myself what she is, but that kid stopped me of course. There’s something strange about her but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe I can charm it out of her?”

Scaramouche slapped his comrades back, “Let’s go you useless fucking playboy.”

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Wangshuu Inn looked beautiful and the aroma of food was far too enticing. Aether sighed as he watched his small, chubby companion chase after the eighth archon. The woman was supposed to be divine, yet in some ways he reminded her of a puppy or a kitten. She was somewhat moody with her affections and spacey like a kitten may be, and still somehow clingy and energetic like a puppy.

Luckily for the two, Aether had a commission from Verr Goldet. The blonde tried to maintain composure as he saw a familiar dark haired yaksha speaking with the Inn Keeper, not wanting to admit he’d accidentally led the Fatui straight to the Archon. The traveler watched in fascination and amusement as Verr’s face twisted from composed to horrified when Xiao was knocked over by the goddess. The conqueror of demons merely grunted and stood back up, clutching the ethereal woman to his chest.

Xiao’s eyes were cold as they met Aether’s, clearly annoyed with the boy, but his expression softened at the yawning goddess in his arms. Once again, the traveler was overcome with curiosity at her behavior. Only moments ago the woman was bubbly and hyper, now her eyes were fluttering and she was snuggling up to one of the most dangerous beings in Teyvat. Without a word, the tattooed man spun around and carried the goddess upstairs.

“I’m here for your com-“ Aether began.

“Who was that?!” Verr Goldet burst out, “I’ve never seen Adeptus Xiao so damn agreeable. What just happened? Is this a dream?”

Paimon giggled, “He loooooves her! That person is the one we told you about before! Even Xiao can’t be in a bad mood around her, it’s amazing!”

“Oh,” Verr blushed at Paimon’s words, “She’s that person? No wonder he’s been so restless.”

“Wait, restless?” Aether questioned.

Verr Sighed and beckoned the two to a guest free area. The two followed her into a small back room, exchanging glances. The boss lady pulled out an old book and brushed the dust away. Aether and Paimon peered down at the book, puzzled by its appearance. It was a dark leather with carvings of the moon and clouds on the front.

Carefully, Verr flipped the book open and turned it to the two. Paimon shot up, shrieking. The book looked like a book you’d find in a library but was strange. Instead of ongoing text, the pages had scraps and pieces stuck on the pages with various notes scribbled around. Verr turned to the first page, placing her middle finger at the beginning text and giving Aether and expectant look. The traveler leaned down and began to read the text.

“The moonlight phenomenon: Legend of Liyue.

It is said that there was once a ruler of the stars, one who ruled over the sky as the Gods rule over our land. When tides of war overcame Liyue, Rex Lapis sought out the monarch of the sky to form a contract.

Seraphim granted Rex Lapis the moonlight phenomenon. Liyue’s skies were never to dim even on the darkest of nights, the moon and stars would remain as guides for Liyue always. It is said that this contract assisted in bringing the evil gods to their doom, the sky illuminating the way to victory for Liyue and all of Teyvat.”

Verr flipped the page as Aether exhaled trying to wrap his mind around the strange passage.

“The Contract: Seraphim and Rex Lapis.

The circumstances of the moonlight phenomenon still remain unknown. It is an ancient mystery that many still attempt to solve, what exactly did the Geo Archon barter for his people?

Nobody knows, still. However, the most common theories are that the contract has not been fulfilled or that there was no contract to begin with. Many believe that Rex Lapis and Seraphim were secret lovers, and this was Seraphim’s gift to her beloved. Others hypothesize that Seraphim’s wish was never fulfilled, as her death sealed the victory for The Seven Archons.”

Aether shuddered. People in Liyue believe that The Celestial Archon died in the Archon war? Verr flipped to a page in the middle of the book.

“Liyue’s Priestess Seraphim

It is said that a woman with eyes vast like the galaxy beyond and mysterious astrological powers once enchanted all of Liyue.

Seraphim, the last Celestial wielder was Liyue’s last hope. Though she is not honored as an archon, she is known vaguely as a priestess. The woman who captured the attention of the archon’s themselves and was adored by the Adepti. Few remain, but Liyue’s legends claim that the priestess of the stars was the lover of Rex Lapis, the lover of the Vigilant Yaksha, or the lover another adepti.

Even fewer discuss the devastation that occurred when she fell from grace. Her death was the catalyst of the only known battle between Liyue’s very own Archon, The Anemo Archon and his people, and the Adepti. A lesser known battle that almost forced both Mondstat and Liyue into Civil Wars.

When the dust settled, all that stood was the full moon. Many Adepti still honor the priestess under the moonlight by fighting evil spirits and demons.”

Aether’s eyes widened at Verr. She solemnly shook her head as the traveler’s face fell. Xiao, Ganyu, Zhongli, Venti, all of them suffered so terribly. It was confusing to the boy that every text described the Celestial Archon as deceased. His head began to hurt from the information. Verr sighed and led him back out.

“Once you finish commissions, why don’t you two stay here? I’ll prepare a room for you,” The boss was sympathetic.

Aether grimaced but nodded, leading Paimon out to finish their duties.

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Somewhere in the shadows of Wangshuu Inn crept a Fatui agent, slipping away as the traveler set out. The shadowy figure grinned at the piece of paper in their hand.

“Protected by the traveler and the Adepti. Master Childe will be interested in this,” His eyes were dark as he approached his fellow Fatui agents, “She could be very useful to us, this (Y/N).”

The suspicious shadows began to slink away, overcome with desire to inform their boss of the new information. Only a few feet away, a strange creature ducked down to avoid being seen by the agents, fidgeting.

“The angel is here!” The creature shrieked as the cult like group left it’s sight, “(Y/N) will be ours.”

[rosella-writes]

Free for all time! I just saw you have a lady mage Adaar and I am dying to meet her, with the poetry prompt "it’s necessary for us to be transformed each moment into an icon"

thank you for asking about my newest bebbe, Bryn! I'm still fleshing them out and love any chance to explore who they are, so I appreciate this so much

it’s necessary for us to be transformed each moment into an icon

cw: saarebas body-modification mentions, fantasy racism

"Oxman."

"Beast."

"Brutish."

"Savage."

"Darling."

Bryn Adaar holds tight to that one, precious darling that drips from Madame de Fer's wry mouth. Whether sarcastic or not, it doesn't matter. The First Enchanter still lays a hand on their arm and calls them darling, while looking directly up into their eyes.

"They will fear us or love us," she says. "Make their attention your power."

"Us?"

Vivienne smiles, the dim light of the chantry making her teeth bright in the brown of her face. "Why, we're mages, my dear. Who do we have if not each other?"

-

"You do not use a staff."

Bryn snuffs out the flame dancing in their hand, then shakes the ash loose as they eye the dead bandit at their feet. "No. Tama didn't, and neither do I."

Dorian Pavus frowns, looking between them and the charred corpse in the grass. "It's all rather uncivilized, isn't it? What if your spell goes wrong, or you charge it with too much mana? Won't you blow your hand right off?"

A dozen frozen memories flash behind their eyes — their tiny fingers tracing the scarred holes around Tama's mouth, a cropped tongue trapped behind Tama's teeth, scars around Tama's neck from a heavy collar that broke long ago, Tama's hands signing <Your power is your own, and no one can control it but you.>

Bryn straightens, making strong the line of their shoulders. The mage beside them is very small, even for all his golden finery, well-waxed mustache tips, and perfectly coiffed hair. It is one of the few moments they are glad to be large. Make their attention your power.

"No," they say. "My spells will not go wrong. Don't worry about my hand, Dorian, I have it under control."

-

"You have no formal training?"

Bryn looks sharply at Solas's face. The thin lines of it are lit from beneath by the flickering green in their palm.

"Neither do you," they say, "hedge mage."

He concedes this with a tiny inclination of his head. A swell of blue swallows his hand, wrapping around and around under the twists of his fingers. The fire flickers nearby, casting shadows against the walls of their tents and deep among the trees beyond.

"I understand your mother taught you what she knew," he murmurs. "It could not have been much, considering how the Qun treats its mages."

Bryn bristles. "She taught me enough."

He looks up at them. The hollows of his eyes are dark in his skull. "Enough to keep you alive thus far. But for how much longer? This is a dangerous world for a mage at all, and perhaps even more so for one of your... stature."

They square their shoulders. "Why do you tell me this? What could I possibly do about it?"

Solas considers them, a slow smile creeping over his face. The blue magic fades from around their hand, and he releases their fingers from his own as if casting away a spider. "Posturing is necessary, Herald. It is an unfortunate reality that you will be transformed into an icon in a world such as this, in the position you hold. Take care to make it one that they will remember."

"Stop talking in circles," they sigh. "I'm tired of it."

He surges to his feet, barely as tall as they are even as they sit. He stares evenly at them, eye to eye for the first time since they awoke in the bowels of Haven's chantry.

"I have a book for you to read," he says finally. "Stay here."

And so they wait, until Solas returns from his tent with said book in hand. He drops it into their lap — the title is a scrawl of something foreign, paired with a translation beneath.

"Here is what is known of the path of the arcane warrior," he says. "I believe it would suit you and your staffless style. Vivienne knows more of the modern chantry application as a knight enchanter, and Leliana may have more resources for you otherwise. I would teach it to you myself if I knew it."

Bryn watches him, wary, as they gingerly pick up the book. They thank him with naught but a tight smile — the moment his back is turned, they flip to the first yellowed page.

[bonelessghoul]

the witcher and the sea (2)

Summary: A lot can happen in just one day. For the Princess and the Witcher, as a newfound trust finally begins to form between them, she only becomes more persistent in breaking every rule and challenging him. As Geralt adapts to Skellige and tries to find a plan to stop the Drowners with Moira’s help, more secrets of the Princess’s life come about and their new bond is put to the test when her friends are found to be in danger. But the Witcher soon realizes that one cannot say no to a Princess.

Words: 8.8k 

note: heyooo not really sure how many people will read this but hope those who do enjoy it!! Please give your feedback, reblog, like, and all that fun stuff. I tried to make this a little longer and more packed than the last part so I hope you all like it :)

Part One |...| Part Three

The morning came earlier than Moira would have liked with Saorise and a few of the handmaids entering her room at the crack of dawn with gowns for tonights feast.

“Good morning, Princess.” Saorise chimed.

In response, Moira turned on her side to face away from the curtains that were drawn open and she pulled the thick, silky blue blanket above her shoulders as she braced for the chilly air that came in from the open doors to her balcony.

“The guests won’t be arriving til noon, Saorise.” Moira groaned.

“That may be so, but your brother Eist has returned from Cintra.”

While she still wished to catch a few more hours of sleep, Moira sat up in bed and rubbed her crusted eyes as they adjusted to the pale morning light from the overcast skies. She hadn’t seen her brother all week and part of her found the motivation to spring up out of bed knowing he was arriving earlier than expected.

Saiorise was grabbing her a subtle dress to wear for the day from the wardrobe opposite of her bed, but Moira’s eyes were focused on the ones the handmaids brought in that were resting over chairs. They were surely sent by Birna who, despite dressing like a crow, picked out dresses that resembled the Turiseach’s colors of blues and silvers alike. Her eyes had immediately found the one in the middle.

It was the least tacky of blues, resembling the color of the ocean that reflected grey skies in its variety of tulley and netting. The corset was a light shade of blue, but hardly noticeable underneath the gold and silver sequins over the dark blue floral like fabric that spanned across the bust and just below her waist. There was a cape attached to it, hard over her shoulders and neck but the sleeves attached to it were sheer and the same color as the dress itself. That too shared the same dense silver and gold embroidery as her dress, and short silver chains connected it to the top of her corset.

Every little detail of the gown that Moira took in only made her eyes widen more and more with admiration.

“If you want me to get out of bed, Saorise, I think I would like to put on one of those dresses now.”

“Would you like us to prep you for the evening now, my Lady?” one of the maids asked.

Looking over at her Mage as she slipped out from under the covers, bare fit hitting the icy cold floor, the woman shrugged at her.

“Well, at least you will be spared from Birna harassing you to get ready today.”

Moira took a quick bath to freshen up, the sea breeze that blew in through her open balcony surely waking her up when her wet skin met the chilled air. But once she slipped into the gown and took a seat by the vanity her late sister once used, it was easier to listen to the duties she would have today as the guests arrived.

The Mage sat beside her, occassionally stepping outside while one of the maids went over the schedule of events.

“You will have breakfast with the King and Queen, the Jarl, and your nephew Crach will be joining as well.”

The other two maids were poking and prodding with her hair and face which made it slightly more difficult to hide her disgust at her nephew.

“The nephew that only bothers his uncles for whenever he needs favors and conveniently forgot my birthday last year. Lovely.” Moira said, only able to roll her eyes.

Saorise quickly turned though and walked into the room, shooting her frown.

“It’s not polite to speak of your nephew that way in front of the maids, Princess.” Saorise sighed, but there was an unmistakable look to her Mage’s face that only showed she couldn’t stand him either.

“Ladies, you remember the story of my precious nephew tattling on me to my brothers when I first picked up a bow and arrow, correct?”

“Yes, my Lady.” they said.

Moira beckoned her hand out to the women. “See? They know he’s a little rat.”

A few of them giggled and Saorise couldn’t hide her knowing grin either.

“After breakfast, the Queen has requested you help her make preparations for the court and then you two will stand with King Bran and Eist to greet the visitors. It seems you will be the one guiding everyone to the guest rooms.”

As the maid went down the list of her tasks, Moira’s mind drifted elsewhere to the Witcher. After their conversation yesterday evening, it had been mulling over in her thoughts and she was intending on speaking to him today if she even had a second or more to breathe. He was a hard man to read, and she tried to imagine all the ways she could approach him after making such a fool of herself. But even still, she was eager to find him at some point.

“And Moira, please don’t find any excuses to miss your duties today. If you even get a fingernail dirty I will know about it.” Saorise said, drawing her from her thoughts.

Moira frowned at her. “I would never do such a thing.” she assured.

Only moments later, the pair walked downstairs to the throne room which seemed all too empty with just her brothers standing around and guards posted like statues not too far away. But when Moira could hear Eist’s voice, a smile spread across her lips as her pace quickened to try and sneak up on him from behind.

But to no avail, Eist turned around with open arms before she had the chance.

“My dearest sister!” Eist beamed.

Eist looked younger than Bran, his hair darker like hers and his face unscathed of any aging despite all the battles he lead Skellige through. He was certainly dressed like a royal of Cintra though and maybe it was being on the sea for his travels that made him seem lighter with every moment, but his smile certainly had everything to do with Queen Calanthe.

“Hello, Eist.” Moira said, embracing her brother. “Tell me, are you finally married?”

His smile remained as he shook his head and sighed. “Not yet.”

Bran had been standing there, waving them over. “Come on, let’s eat. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Are you implying we start drinking now, my King?” Eist asked, raising a brow at him.

Moira laughed as she followed behind the two of them towards the long stretch of the dark wooden table where they would all be sitting this evening looking down on the room that would soon be filled to the brim.

“I think that is the best idea you have had. Perhaps you should visit Cintra more often.” Bran replied.

Without any commands, the servants from the kitchen were already at their table before they sat down with a freshly cooked breakfast of eggs, bread, and fruit. The two men had large pints of mead whereas she had wine, which she wasn’t sure would mix well for her food but Moira would not deny herself a drink.

“Where is Birna this morning?” Moira asked, leaning her head slightly forward to glance at them.

Bran swallowed his food and put his hand up.

“She was speaking with the Witcher after I had introduced Eist to the man who will put our people at ease. I think she will be very thrilled to see you wearing one of the dresses she had made for you.”

Moira’s brows raised as she sipped her wine.

“I’m sure she would be. Why did she need to speak with Geralt, though?”

“I see you’ve already learned his name.” Eist mused, looking at her suspiciously before turning towards Bran. “I still can’t fathom why you brought him here, brother. Our men are well suited to contain this problem that may I remind you, happens every year.”

Moira opened her mouth to question why Eist would care if she called the Witcher by his true name, but her family had always been wary of those who possess such abilities with the exception of their Mage. She was even more curious to know why Birna needed to speak with him but she refrained from asking any more questions at all.

“Eist, you cannot deny there is something off about all of this.”

“Maybe so, but how much do those of his kind ask for with such simple tasks?”

“The Isles have never been at peace as they are now! Finances are not a problem.”

As the two bickered the political nonsense Moira never cared for, she raised her glass to one of the servants who went to get her more wine. If this was the forecast of her day, she knew she was going to need it.

“Well on a lighter note, Moira, I have a present from Calanthe.”

Moira’s face contorted slightly as she sipped the freshly poured wine.

“A what? From Calanthe?”

Before she could even move, Eist had pulled out another bow and a fresh satchel of brand new arrows from the empty seat beside him and Moira’s jaw hit the floor. Immediately, she jumped from her seat and rushed over to her brother, marveling at the strong wood it had been carved from, glossy and shining from the mere daylight at every angle.

“Calanthe had this made for me?” Moira asked, her voice light as a feather while the excitement that ran through her squeezed at her heart.

“She knows a warrior when she sees one. While she’s never agreed with how Bran and I have raised you, I secrelty think she adores it.” Eist chuckled.

Moira’s eyes didn’t leave the new toy she had been gifted and she started to turn away, walking to return to her room while the two brothers called out her name.

“Moira, we have things to do today!” Bran called out.

“Then he should have shown me this tomorrow!” she casually replied, glancing back at him.

As she left the court, Saorise had been walking in her direction and Moira had nothing but the giddiest grin upon her lips.

“Where are you going?” her Mage asked, pausing as she kept walking.

“I’ll be back in time for the guests, don’t worry.” Moira chuckled.

The exasperation from Saorise’s face did not go unnoticed, but everyone knew there was no stopping her from trying this out now and let her go on her way.

Once she returned to her room, Moira immediately picked up her old beaten arrows and gently placed the new ones from Cintra upon her bed.

There was the nagging thought of knowing she had to help Birna with the preparations for tonight, but she easily dismissed it when she picked up her new bow and went outside. From her room, she could see the tiny harbor village down below. It seemed so much closer than it really was with the ships docked and the roofs of every home and establishment. Her favorite part was how she could see the way this part of the Isle curved, the mountains surrounding them like they were extensions of her own arms. There was even the rocks just a couple miles out that stuck out from the water like the back of a serpent.

Sometimes she felt as if she could shoot an arrow and it would land right on its surface.

But for now, Moira leaned upon the stone barrier between her and a very miserable descent to the gardens beneath her.

Sometimes, she would shoot at nothing. Other times, she would simply aim for a particular tree or somewhere down below just to mess with the guards. Moira was tempted to use her new arrows as her old ones didn’t feel right with this newly carved bow, but she knew she had to get rid of them sooner or later and did so by freely shooting them from her balcony.

Even though the air was cold, her newly tailored gown kept her warm enough and didn’t hinder the focus she needed in every muscle and breathe she took.

But as she came down to her last arrow, Moira caught side of a white haired figure all the way down to the left. From here, she could not make out Geralt’s face as he stood at the near opposite end of the castle at the stables, but she could see the indivudal stacks of hay under the wooden structure that held his horse Roach. Birna was nowhere to be seen, and she was still curious as to what they spoke about earlier, but knowing that she was gone made her more eager to mess with the Witcher.

She wanted to talk to him soon, and she still drew a blank as she did since last night when it came to what she wanted to say. By the time she would make it down there while he was alone he would surely be gone.

As the gears turned in her head, Moira quickly turned away from the balcony to rush back to the vanity and she searched for a piece of parchment and something to write with while anxiously hoping Geralt would still be standing there.

Once she found what she needed, she quickly scribbled down a simple little note, tying it to her last dainty little arrow as fast as her fingers could before rushing back out to the balcony. To her relief, the Witcher stood there presumably feeding roach from what she could make out from here. Placing the bow and drawing back, Moira sucked in all the air she could fill in her lungs and narrowed her eyes upon the wooden post that was only a few feet away from the two.

Maybe this would be a bad idea if there was a sudden breeze that suddenly ended with a dead Witcher or a horse and she halted for just a moment.

But when Geralt slowly started to turn away from Roach, Moira didn’t hesitate when letting go of the bowstring and still held her breath as she watched it soar across the air.

From the stables, Geralt had caught sight of the Princess a few moments ago aimlessly playing with her bow and arrow. Of course, she was not looking as he occasionally glanced up at her, his mind unable to wrap around the freedom she had with her title. Geralt didn’t know the brothers that held such power of Skellige, but what he knew didn’t surprise him one bit with what he’s learned about the Princess over the past day.

Roach made a soft little huf and swayed her head.

“I agree, Roach. She is hiding something about the Drowners.” Geralt responded, feeding her one last apple before turning away.

The horse made another sound, a bit harsher this time but it didn’t diguise the sound his supernatural hearing could only pick up. It was like the hum of an insect, except more high pitched and in the seconds it took to come close enough, Geralt turned around to hear the head of an arrow sink its way into the wooden post not too far from them.

“It seems this Princess also has a death wish.” he muttered with a frown on his lips as Roach became slightly startled.

Moira winced, guilty for causing the beautiful creature to become scared and quickly turned away to her room.

But Geralt, curiosity hidden under his firmly pressed lips watched as the little piece of parchment slipped off of the arrow and into the dirt. When he walked over to it to read it, his eyebrows raised, lightening his face ever so slightly.

“I will tell you what I know tonight. Say a word of it to my family and the next arrow will be in your head, Witcher.

Moira.”

By the end of it, Geralt could not hide the way the corner of his lip ticked up just a little, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

Maybe this would all be worth the coin after all, he thought.

~~~

The day passed rather quickly and people from all over Skellige soon filled the castle.

Moira’s usually empty home came to life and she loved every second of it. Ever since Bran became king, court was hardly as fun with how much work he put into keeping the peace between the Isles but when he did decide to make things more interesting, it never failed to be a wonderful time.

But Skellige, the rowdy bunch that never missed an opportunity to dress up and drink til the sun rose the next morning, still maintained a decorum of formality to impress the royal family that ruled it and Moira was not used to it. As a child, everyone greeted her like the adorable little Princess she was and she would run off with her friends in no time but now there was a growing discomfort with every man that kissed her hand and girls she once called friends already married and staring at her with looks that could kill.

“Keep smiling, Princess.” Birna whispered, nearly breathing down her neck.

Moira whipped her head back to look at her, wearing a deep navy blue gown that was almost as detailed as hers but much more delicate. Whereas Moira looked like she could run into battle with the tiara upon her head, Birna did radiate a certain elegance that she never knew possible in Skellige.

Together though, the two of them standing before the entire population was a sight to be admired as they all gathered to greet them.

“I am smiling.” Moira hissed the second another family had passed them.

Birna raised an eyebrow at her before she turned back around.

“The dress you picked looks very nice. It’s probably why every girl looks like they want to kill you and every man wants to get down on one knee.”

Moira scoffed, still maintaining her smile as one of the men from Ard Skelling took her hand. She had to force her politeness as she curtseyed for the man who was twice her age.

“It’s almost as disturbing as you complimenting me.” Moira said as the man went away.

Moira had to give some credit to the man her brother chose to love. What they had was genuine, something that didn’t happen often in this world. Despite their relentless fights, with the mother and sister she never truly got to know gone, Birna had done her best to mold her into the woman she was today even with resistance from Moira.

As her brothers, Birna, and Saorise turned to take their seats, she shared a secret grin with her Mage who had overheard her conversation.

“Who knew she could be so nice to me?” Moira said under her breath, wiggling her brows as they ascended the stairs.

Saorise laughed gently. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Princess. You know she will tear you to shreds over something so little at some point tonight.”

Moira agreed and just as she reached the top of the stairs, her brothers and Birna already at their seats, a new face had walked down the aisle of already seated members of the court,

“My king, you have one more guest tonight.” a guard said.

Moira turned around, Saorise still trailing behind her a few stairs below her, and just over her shoulders the Witcher himself entered and a similar feeling to the first time she saw him just yesterday evening washed over her.

She froze midstep, watching as he strode over towards them, and everything within her seemed to tighten like a coil.

Geralt’s eyes were as gold as the chandeliers above them, and she watched as they quickly scanned over her dress and suddenly she could feel every inch of fabric on her skin like fire. She wondered if he felt scrutinized by her when she looked at the hardened armor as black as night that he wore, curious about the silver pendant around his neck.

As every hair on her began to stand, feeling pulled into some world where she forgot that the entirety of Skellige’s most important families surrounded them, she was quickly drawn back to reality when her brother Bran breezed by her to greet the Witcher halfway.

It almost made her laugh at how short the Witcher made everyone look.

“Why is he dressed like that?” Eist asked, his voice low.

“He’s a mutant. Of course he wouldn’t know how to dress appropriately for court.”

Moira glanced back at them.

“That’s a rude way to speak of the man who’s going to rid of us our Drowners problem.”

They dismissed her easily and ascended the stairs to take their seats and Moira took one last glance at Geralt before following them with Saorise.

Once above all of the guests, she watched as every head in the court turned on the Witcher as Bran led him up to their table, their whispers hardly going unnoticed. After knowing how he could hear her heartbeat, she wondered if he could hear the things they were saying.

But when Bran picked up his pint, tapping one of the butter knives against it, every whisper and sound from the small band ceased.

“People of Skellige! I welcome you to this wonderful occasion which I am sure you are all wondering what it’s about.” Bran announced, his deep voice filling the hall. “I’m sure you’re all even more curious as to why we have a Witcher in our presence.”

Looking over at Geralt who stood there with a straight face, she could sense his disdain for the show her brother was putting on. Or perhaps he just always looked like that.

“As many of you may already know or have heard whispers about, An Skellige has been plagued by an uprise of monsters that have once kept quiet and has been harming the people of our villages. I want to do what is best for my people, even if those of you from the other Isles may not be affected, I want it to be known that everyone’s safety is a matter I take seriously which is what led me to my decision in bringing a Witcher here to prove that to you all.”

People began to clap, and Moira did too.

“But even in this troubling time where many of the people of An Skellige may be concerned, I want it to be known that the Witcher will slay the beasts that think they can attack people of Skellige nonetheless!”

The claps got louder, the men cheering now which brought a smile to Moira’s lips.

Bran then turned to the Witcher.

“Geralt of Rivia, I welcome you to Skellige and will provide anything you need to do what it takes. Now, lets eat, drink, and show this Witcher what it is like to celebrate amongst us!”

The Witcher had a smile on his face now, even if it seemed like he had to put it on for show. Her brother was always one to put on a show, so she was glad that he could at least pretend to enjoy such attention while it was all on him. To her relief though, he sat on the opposite end of the table from him and once food was served, her stomach was in too many knots to properly enjoy it.

“You think you could make it a little less obvious that you’re infatuated with him, Princess?” Saorise said.

Moira sipped her wine and glanced at her mage.

“You are imagining things, Saorise.” she dismissed.

The woman grinned at her, a taunting grin at that.

“I haven’t seen you look at anyone that way since Rotty came back from those long months at sea with the rest of the navy.”

“That was a pathetic little crush I had when I was fifteen!” Moira cried, laughing as she looked at the woman. “Plus, every woman here is oggling at the Witcher. I’m here to help him get rid of the Drowners and nothing more because he will be on his way traveling and slaying monsters across the Continent.”

“You like danger, Moira, and I fear that Geralt of Rivia is a very attractive piece of danger to you.” she said, sighing with exasperation.

“I don’t see a problem with that.” she shrugged, glancing across the table to catch another look at him.

The moment people finished eating, it wasn’t long before guests started to fill the open space of the floor to dance in pairs to the light music the band played.

After a couple glasses of wine, Moira even dragged Saorise out to the floor with her and they linked arms and danced together like she was a child again. Even Eist joined after forcing Bran and Birna to come down with him and for a moment, she forgot that she needed to speak with Geralt.

The one thing Moira adored about her family depsite all of their bickering was that they were not the type of royalty to remain seated and look at their people through their noses. They were more than ready to drink and dance amongst their people like they were all one big family which they all were more or less.

It was why she never feared being a traditional Princess.

Moira eventually backed away from the crowd, stearing more towards the open balcony windows so she could catch the cool air while still remaining in the ballroom itself.

As she stood on the outskirts of it all, admiring the crowd that sung and danced together, she noticed Geralt come up beside her out of the corner of her eye and immediately straigthened up.

Everything from the way he stood to the way his eyes seemed to scrutinize the guests gave her the impression that he didn’t quite know what to do, aside from the obvious part of how much he did not fit in.

“I sense you don’t really like big parties being thrown in your honor?” Moira asked, staring up at him as he scanned the crowd.

The Witcher heaved a sigh as he looked at her with a lighter expression compared to his unnervingly blank face.

“I never really have parties thrown in my name. Kings and rulers typically keep my presence hidden and the job they have for me secret.”

“I’m almost surprised by that. So, I assume you don’t typically like these royal parties then?”

Geralt looked back out at the people of Skellige and her family in particular, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“It is not necessarily my cup of tea.”

Moira snickered, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the column she stood near.

“I didn’t take your kind as the type who would drink tea anyway.”

“You’re right. We prefer to keep a stash of the blood of the monsters we slay anyway.”

She quickly turned to him, her mind letting her believe that he was serious for a moment by the way he didn’t even blink.

“Wait, really?”

“No.” Geralt said, looking at her with raised brows that seemed to pull up the corner of his lips as well.

Nervously, she let out a laugh, and Moira shook her head as she looked down at her shimmering gown.

“Well, speaking of monsters, I do believe I owe you an honest conversation about the Drowners.”

“It appears you do, Princess.”

Moira frowned at him. “Call me Moira.”

Geralt nodded. “Understood.”

Taking a deep breath, her memory of the Drowners unfolded as she tried to figure out where to start and still cover her tracks.

“We have a pretty skilled navy and army here on Skellige. So, when the Drowners started to claim more lives than they normally do in the winter, my brother decided to send them out to patrol the area. My best friends are in the navy and I grow restless in the castle so I decide to sneak out and help them.”

“That’s very bold of you.”

Moira glared. “I am very skilled with weapons. I grew up with two brothers who didn’t ever really know how to raise a little girl without putting a sword into her hands for fun.”

“Your aim with a bow and arrow is impeccable but I think Roach would disagree.” Geralt mused.

“In all fairness, I did not mean to startle your horse. It was mainly a jab at you for being so forward last night. Anyway, you’re getting away from the point!”

“Carry on.” he said, nodding at her.

“One night, we were patrolling one of the streams that go through the woods. It isn’t that close to the village, but it connects to the bay just off of Urialla Harbor where we’ve seen them the most and thought that’s where people have been getting snatched up. What we found out was true, and that they have been traveling from the bay in numbers I’ve never heard of.”

“That’s when you got attacked.”

“Yes.” Moira sighed. “The waters were covered in mostly ice, which is why we didn’t expect to see them, but since that night we’ve went back to that area and have probably killed about a dozen already.”

Moira knew she was keeping a major part of the story out, but it was a secret buried so deep that no one other than Saorise would ever know. But she was comfortable with what she told him and hoped he wouldn’t pick up on what she left out. Technically, she wasn’t lying.

“That bay you mentioned, has there ever been anything else there?”

Moira shrugged. “Just a couple of weird caves but nothing out of the ordinary. It’s a place where everyone goes in the warmer months.”

Geralt seemed to be trying to connect the dots in his head, but when he nodded, she was slightly relieved.

“Any ideas yet?”

“Not really. I can slip out tonight and try to find out more for myself.”

Nodding slowly, Moira wanted to interject and offer to come with him, but Saorise had been approaching them.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Witcher.” Saorise said, bowing her head towards him before turning to her. “You, Princess, cannot be seen hiding in the corners of a celebration thrown by your own family.”

Glancing at Geralt who seemed to be amused at this, she sighed heavily and started to walk with her.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Moira said, glancing back at him.

“Thank you, Princess.” Geralt smirked.

Before she could snap at him, Saorise had pulled her to dance again and the two were back to how they were except this time, she looked at Geralt every chance she had as he still stood in the same spot she left him.

“It was only a matter of seconds before Birna scolded you for talking with him.” Saorise said, pulling her away again.

Moira shrugged. “You’re not wrong.”

As Moira danced with her family again, she had unlinked arms with Eist and thought she would be jumping into a dance with Bran but instead found her nephew Crach joining her and her mouth was instantly filled with a bitter taste.

“Oh, look who it is!” the young man boasted.

Moira smiled at him cockily as they continued the dance routine.

“How unfortunate it is to see you again, my dear nephew.”

Crach shared a strong resemblance to Bran with a face full of light colored hair and the same eyes the whole family had. But he had the brain of a boar and certainly embodied the arrogance of once. She never imagined how her fair sister could have conceived such a pest.

“You’re breaking my heart, Moira! We’re still family you know!”

“We may be family, but you are a royal pain in my ass who in fact, does not seem to care about family.”

They switched positions again, and she was eager to find another partner, her head on a swivel as she was practically flailing around and missing steps while she danced with him.

“What were you doing talking to the Witcher? You know Birna would have a fit for not speaking to an eligible bachelor.”

Moira rolled her eyes.

“Not all of us have the luxury of escaping to live with another family in the Isles, Crach.”

“Maybe you should finally marry and leave Skellige entirely. Ever think of that? It’s not like it’s hard, Princess—but wait, it seems you still think you can be a soldier.”

Striking a nerve in her, Moira snatched her arm a way from him, causing a ruffle in the flow of Skellige’s most traditional jigs as she now stood in the center of it aflame with anger spewing towards her nephew.

“Don’t judge me when you know all the women at every brothel in the Isles, you little rat.” Moira seethed.

Crach put his hands up in defense, giggling like a little boy as he did so.

“I mean no ill intent, Moira. Don’t get so riled up, you know that isn’t attractive.”

Moira stepped forward. “I’ll show you riled up when I shove my—”

“Princess.” said an unfamiliar voice.

Moira sharply turned around, her blood pumping with more heat towards the pest she called a nephew only to find Skjordal Drummon, the jarl of one of the clans that rivaled Crach and his family on Ard Skellige. The man was at least fifteen years older than her and it showed, but his mere presence made her go cold as he looked down at her with a hunger to his eyes that every man had tonight.

“What a pleasure to see you again, Skjordal.” Moira said, her voice strained as she straightened herself out.

“May I have this dance? My absence on this island has suited me well I suppose, and it’s an honor to have returned to witness such elegance and grace you have grown into.”

“She would love to!” Crach said, gently pushing her forward.

Moira’s heart was racing, unable to process the sickening comment her made to her still even as her hands became intertwined with his, making her skin crawl. Every fiber of her being wished to have whipped around and hit Crach with all her might, but instead, she was left with the repulsive feeling that made her stomach churn as Skjordal gleefully pulled her into the dance routine.

The seconds felt like long, brutal minutes as Moira kept her attention elsewhere as they danced, waiting for the song to switch by the band so she could run away from the way his hand squeezed hers and the other rested on her back. She was choking on her own breath as she kept her chin tilted up for formalities.

Skjordal had a daughter that was almost her age, having been sent off to the Continents a couple years ago with a new husband.

It sickened her that he was trying to pull her in every chance he got as the song continued on so much so that it began to make her dizzy.

As her gaze remained on anything else, she kept making eye contact with Geralt.

From the outside, he could sense her discomfort after being irritated by her nephew and shoved into the arms of a man old enough to be her father. She was looking for every chance she could to escape, and Geralt would be lying if he said the sight of it didn’t bother him.

But that was the fate of most princesses he encountered, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised to see it happening to Moira.

Before the song could even end, Moira had forced herself to pull back and she quickly put her hand up to her head to give the impression that she was exhausted.

“I must say, all this dancing has me feeling quite ill. I think I didn’t eat enough this evening.” Moira laughed faintly. “I appreciate the dance, Skjordal. We will have to do it again later!”

In reality, her face was as white as snow as it was slowly draining of its color as that of a truly ill person, but she was also flustered to finally have gotten away from the dance. If she continued any more then she would have surely fainted in the middle of it all.

Before the jarl could even answer, Moira slipped away, just catching a glimpse of the offense he took to her leaving, and she wanted to run to the kitchens for any water she could find. As she breezed through the dense crowd, she only started to feel more irritated from every drunken Skelliger that brushed up against her, every touch making her want to scream.

What nearly set her over the edge was a firm but dainty hand grabbing her elbow and pulling her back, bringing her face to face with Birna.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she yelled in a hushed tone, her eyes wildly angry, yet still perfectly shielding her body from any wandering eyes.

Moira was confused though, yanking her arm back.

“Do not grab me like that, Birna.” Moira said, backing away. “We may be family but you are still no more than my rotten sister in law and that doesn’t give you permission to—”

“Family looks out for family, you spoiled brat.” Birna snapped, stepping forward again. “What you did by running off from a member of the Drummond clan was embarrassing! Your brother has done nothing but bring the Isles together in no way that anyone has ever seen. What will they think when Skjordal runs off and tells everyone you made a fool of him that way!”

Moira was at a loss for words, her chest rising and falling as every possible curse flooded her mind.

“He’s a man, he wouldn’t admit to being made a fool by a princess.” Moira said, picking the softer of responses for the sake of the night.

Birna laughed darkly, shaking her head, a gleam of sadness to her desperate eyes.

“You don’t get it, Princess.” she scowled. “You don’t understand how brutal men can be when they don’t get what they want.”

Tears immediately stung her eyes. Little did the precious Queen know, Moira knew all too well how brutal a man could be even without doing a single thing to provoke it. It was something she was not shy to whether she acted like a Princess or not.

“You don’t know anything about me.” Moira said between gritted teeth.

“I know enough to know that your brothers have guided you to believe you won’t be married off someday, and it should have already happened! You cannot sit here and think you are exempt from this path, and you cannot let the men of Skellige believe that either if your brother’s reputation as king means anything to you!”

Moira was trembling, every word suffocating her more and more.

She felt helpless against Birna who knew all the right things to say to pick her apart and get her to listen.

But that frustration that built up in her was growing, so much so that the winds outside began to pick up. It was as if the tide was at her fingertips.

Her eyes immediately scanned the room for Saorise as the fear of her own strength began to creep in with that deep hum from her blood.

“Who said anything about marriage?” Moira scoffed, trying to downplay what was truly happening outside the walls.

“You are a naïve little girl, Moira. If you don’t think your brothers know you are overdue for starting your life as a true woman, then you are deeply mistaken.”

The tears that stung her eyes made the Birna and the chandeliers beyond her head blur. Blinking them away, she glanced outside through the windows and saw that snow started to fall.

Moira could feel the storm within her, every gust of wind with every breath and every word Birna spoke fueling her imagination that every snowflake was like ice shredding against her skin. It was dark, even for Moira, but it would be worth releasing the numbing buzz that ran over every inch of skin. She had the strength of a thousand oceans in her mind and if she even blinked the wrong way, Moira swore that the waves could swallow the whole island.

“If you think I’m going to whore myself out to any man of power that walks through these doors like you did, you are deeply mistaken.”

Without another word, Moira turned away, knowing that it would be too much for her to stay around and stormed out to the balcony where she prayed no one would bother her as she hid off to the dark corner that wasn’t touched by the light of the party.

The brisk air was welcoming to her, the gentle snow that seemed harsh with the wind calming as she took deep breaths. Her hand rested against the stone where ice seemed to have covered, and that bone deep chill seemed to bring her fuzzy mind back to reality.

Anyone would have guessed that it was a gust of wind bringing some extra snow off the roof of their castle.

“Moira…” said a gentle voice that belonged to her mage.

Looking down at her feet that stood in the small dusting of snow, she felt a single tear roll down her cheek from the waterfall she was trying to hold back.

“I just want to be alone, Saorise. I have it under control.”

Her knuckles were as white as the gentle coating beneath her from the way she was gripping the stone railing.

It hurt her to push her away, especially knowing that her mage was the one who helped hide this mysterious magic that flowed through her blood. But of all people she would understand and if she could convince her that she had it under control, she hoped that it would keep her convinced that her family would never know.

When Moira heard her footsteps walk away, she felt it was a little easier to breathe.

But then, when she heard another pair of footsteps return, she sharply turned around.

“I said I wanted to be—”

Moira paused at the sight of Geralt who was looking at her quizically.

“It’s you.” she sighed, a cloud of her air pushing through her lips before she turned back around.

Staring out at the forest that looked like a black abyss at night, she knew that she had very little chance of hiding from him now.

“That was quite a show you put on.” Geralt said, coming up beside her. “You’re lucky none of the members of this court are sober enough to put two and two together.”

Moira scoffed, chuckling humorouslessly as her head tilted back.

“I wish I could say I had no idea what you were talking about, but something tells me you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

Geralt leaned back on the railing her hands rested upon, arms folded across his chest, and he shook his head at her.

“Not a chance.”

They stood there in silence, and yet the chaos that stirred within her as she tried to come down from the events that occurred over the span of ten agonizing minutes somehow seemed to disappear with him being there. Maybe it was the comfort of someone who knew nothing about her. Either way, she was almost glad he found his way to the balcony.

“Did you freeze the waters in the Isle?” Geralt asked, not in an accusing way which took her by surprise.

Moira thought back to that night when the Drowners attacked her and her friends and she could still feel that rush of power that took over her when they became too much.

“There were so many, and they ran. I got caught up trying to fight them off and once the one lunged at me, it sort of just happened. The entire stream was frozen over in an instant, half of their bodies still crawling out just frozen in time.”

“Hmm.” was all he said.

She raised a brow at him. “Wonderful response.”

They stood in silence once more and the guilt started to eat her away.

“Did I cause this?” she asked.

Geralt shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Moira turned her whole body to face him. “I need more than a few worded answers, Geralt.”

He sighed. “The Drowners are simple minded creatures. The ice would turn them away, not bring more to fight through it. I do not think your seemingly unhinged magic caused it but something else. I just have to figure out what.”

Moira could sense that now that he knew all the pieces to the puzzle, he was slightly troubled as well trying to figure out what exactly the missing piece was.

“Did you just call me unhinged?” she asked.

“I don’t think I could call it anything else, Princess. How exactly does one in your position go her whole life hiding something like that?”

Moira scoffed at him.

“Did it ever occur to you that these things might not be welcomed in Skellige? That my family would ship me off to those cult like schools where girls become mages? Saorise told me of them, before she got lucky with my family she said it was hell.”

Geralt shrugged.

“There are worse fates.”

Moira crossed her arms, the cold finally seeping in through her dress now.

“And tell me, what do you know about fates, Witcher? You get to freely roam the Continent every day of your life, collecting money for risking your life. I am doomed to marriage and children and my people despise me because I don’t want any of it.”

“Like I said, there are worse fates.”

“You are truly a man of words.” she said mockingly.

They fell in silence again, which was more comforting than them speaking and she could find peace and their newfound trust. At least, she felt as if she could trust him a little more now after what took place tonight. It was such a shame it had to be ruined but she was relieved that she could find herself talking freely with someone other than Saorise.

“I’m going to take Roach out to the bay and see what I can find.”

Moira’s head perked up from where she stared at the dark ocean in the distance.

“I can help.”

Geralt’s head sharply turned towards her.

“No.”

“Did I hear you correctly?”

“Not used to being told no?” he retorted.

“That isn’t fair. I just told you everything. I deserve to help. I’ve been out there every night since before you came here.”

“And tonight you can peacefully sleep knowing I’m going to handle it.”

Moira watched his lips curve and she started to notice a pattern with the ways she could get him to crack that stubborn face of his, and it all seemed to be when he got a rise out of her. But even still, she couldn’t help but stare at him like he had two heads.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

“It’s Moira.” she said under her breath, watching as the Witcher left her on the balcony.

~~~

The following morning came with a heavy pit in Moira’s stomach from the moment she woke.

It was the calm after the storm following the events of last night, and the princess laid in bed staring out through the glass doors of her balcony, having left the curtains drawn last night by accident. It was another overcast morning and she could see the leftover dusting of snow on the stone and the mountains beyond it from where her head lay. But despite the echo of her terrible evening still resounding through her, there was something off about what today would bring and she couldn’t quite figure out why.

By the time Moira dragged herself from her bed, she slipped into more comfortable attire and hoped the guests were gone by now before making her way downstairs where she would hopefully find her brothers. If they weren’t already awake in the throne room discussing plans for the coming days, she had a few other spots in mind and wouldn’t be surprised if they had still been sleeping in.

As Moira neared the open doors to the throne room, she could already hear more than just her brothers voices.

Curiosity getting the best of her, Moira immediately entered the room without hesitation, finding her brothers, Geralt, and three men dressed in the Skellige navy uniform with one looking more wounded. A warning seemed to arise from her deepest thoughts before she even knew what was happening, and immense worry began to fill her as she made eye contact with the Witcher who didn’t look any more pleased than the rest of them.

“Ah, Moira.” Bran greeted, seated slumped in his throne while Eist shared a dismal look at his side. “It might be best if you come back later. I can have one of the guards bring you breakfast to your room, if you’d like.”

Moira raised a brow at him.

“You only offer me breakfast in bed when something is wrong.” She frowned.

Suddenly, one of the navy men turned around and she immediately recognized Arnie who stood there with a bruised face and his arm held in a swath to keep it stabalized after injuring it and her heart sunk. She could see a terrible heartbreak written on his face and she immediately approached him, hugging him carefully as her worst fears started to rise in her mind.

“Where is Rotty and Orin?” Moira demanded from her brothers, glancing at Arnie.

Eist sighed, looking down before turning his attention back to her. “Your friends, as well as three others from our forces were trapped on Undvik after unsuccessfully trying to fend off the ice giant.”

Two of her three closest friends were now missing, and she felt the crushing weight of it the way it was written across Arnie’s face.

“Will you be sending more men to try and rescue them?” Moira asked, her voice tight.

The thought of them being gone was not one she could easily believe. Maybe she couldn’t except it, but she felt it deep in her soul that it was not possible.

“Moira, dear…” Eist said, his eyes sad as they looked at her.

“No.” she laughed, shaking her head. “They are not only my friends but your men. How could that not be your first course of action?!”

“Moira, you don’t understand what happened. There was an avalanche and we got separated.” Arnie said, his bleary eyes looking at her.

The boy she knew as the weakest link between his brother and their friend Orin who might as well have been a brother too now looked strong. He was strong in his own ways compared to the two, but now standing alone, she could see just how much his face changed as he accepted their fate.

“But you’re not going to try?” Moira asked.

“We have plans in place but we need time to figure out our best course of action.”

There was not a doubt in her mind that she would go there herself to find them. Even if she had to go against her brothers wishes, Moira would not live with herself if she wasn’t the one to make the tough, irrational decision to go and at least try whether they were alive or not.

Turning on her heels, Moira didn’t even spare the Witcher a glance as she left the room in silence.

Once alone, her imagination got the best of her as she pictured Rotty and Orin buried under the snow, frozen to death by now or worse, torn up by an ice giant she’s only ever read stories about. Tears pricked her eyes, but she swatted them away as the plan unfolded in her mind. By the time she got back to her room though, she hadn’t realized she was being followed until she went to her wardrobe and saw the Witcher standing in her doorway.

“Nice room.” Geralt said, leaning upon the door frame with his arms crossed. “Do you really think you are going to take on an ice giant on your own and save your friends even if they’re alive.”

Moira wanted to ignore him, in no mood to hear a lecture that anyone else would give her at any given time. She raided her closet for the clothes she would often wear when searching for Drowners at night with her friends and goes behind the tall, wood bordered screen to change.

“I know Witcher’s don’t have many friends, and quite honestly, I do not have many myself, but I will be damned if my brother thinks he can take his time constructing a plan before sending another crew out. Hell will freeze over before I lose them.”

Aggressively, she switched out of her clothes and into her new ones, hands shaking as she did so and not wanting to think of what faces Geralt was making on the other side of the screen.

“I don’t doubt your ability to freeze hell over, Princess.”

Groaning, she peaked her head out from behind the screen. “Moira. And I could do without the snide comments.”

As she finished changing, she quickly added, “You can play hero and tattle to my brothers about me all you’d like, Geralt but I am going no matter what anyone else has to say.”

“I don’t have to tell your brothers because I already offered my services to solve this problem.”

Moira froze for a moment, stepping out from behind the screen, watching as he came further into her room.

“I suppose you didn’t mention I would be tagging along, did you?”

The Witcher frowned at her, arms dropping at his sides.

“You can’t fight a monster on this scale.”

“And you can’t sail a ship as far as I am concerned.”

Moira reached behind her bed to grab her sword, as well as her new bow and arrow which clearly impressed him.

“I suppose you’re not going to take no for an answer?” Geraly asked.

“You can’t tell a princess no, Geralt.”

There was a pit embedded in her stomach from the moment she woke up, and it made her feel sick now knowing that lying and sneaking behind her brothers’ backs to this extent was not something she’s ever done before. But as she stared at the Witcher, there was a mutual understanding and despite the way this tore her apart, Moira couldn’t help but acknowledge that this thrilled her more than anything.

~

[restlessfandoming]

campfire in the snow (chilumi)

hey friends back again with that fanfic writing :^)

this is my headcannon that childe absolutely suffers during the colder winter months as a hydro user (based on this post here) so SOMEONE’s gotta take care of him

in other words, a chilumi...chilumine? lumichilde? CHILDE X LUMINE sick fic !!!

thanks for reading as always <3

[Fic Masterlist]

“campfire in the snow”

“Ahchoo!” 

Lumine glanced at Childe, watching him sniffle miserably as they walked through the woods towards Mondstadt. 

The sky was overcast, giving the land the hazy gray glow of winter, and the chilly temperature felt stiff against shivering bodies—their coats only warming them slightly. Their shoes crunched in the snow from last night’s snowstorm; the promise of another snowfall hung in the air. 

“Are you sick?” Lumine asked. 

Childe gave a weak smile. “Of course not. In top shape as always.” Then, AHCHOO! Another sneeze. 

Paimon popped up in front of the Harbinger’s face, staring directly at his red nose. “You don’t sound so good to me. Paimon thinks you’re sick!”

“Hate to say it, but I definitely agree with Paimon,” Lumine said, ignoring the guide’s flailing arms of anger. “I think we need to get you somewhere warm.” 

The orange haired man playfully scoffed. “All I need to do is speak with the Grand Master of the Knights. Easiest mission of my—sniff—life.”

The traveler stopped in her tracks, and took off her own scarf, holding it out for Childe. “Then at least take this. I think you need this more than me.”

He looked at the scarf, eyes almost glazing over from yearning. He shook his head. “I’d never take something from a lady in need.” 

Lumine almost threw the scarf at him. “I’m not in need.”

“And she’s not a lady; have you seen her eat?”

“Paimon.”

“Paimon only tells the truth!”

“Thank you, really, but it’s just a little reaction to the colder weather. No big deal,” Childe assured, walking past Lumine’s offering. 

“What’s his problem?” she muttered, as he walked ahead. She heard him coughing in the distance. Why won’t he just take it? 

“He doesn’t seem so threatening now, does he?” Paimon said. “Paimon’s never seen him so weak…”

“Weak…,” Lumine echoed. 

Of course. 

Childe was a member of the Fatui. A Harbinger. A deadly fighter. Someone who used a bow despite it being his weakest weapon. 

He would never accept help like this, not when it made him feel weak. 

Lumine groaned in frustration. Stupid, stupid man. She continued on the path, picking up her pace to try and catch up to him. 

Except he was nowhere to be seen. The cold set into her body a little more. 

“Childe?” she called out. She ran down the path, eyes scanning every inch of the snowy road and fields. Then—

“Lumine, look!” Paimon shouted, speeding over to Childe’s body laying in the snow. 

The blonde traveler quickly scrambled to his side, flipping him over so his face wasn’t buried in the snow. He was drained of color, and his body felt ice cold. There was barely air leaving his nose. 

“Childe!” she called, shaking him. Wake up; please, wake up! 

He didn’t move. Lumine cursed. 

“What should we do?” Paimon asked frantically. 

Lumine took a deep breath in, then took off her own coat and scarf, placing it on Childe’s shoulders. She shuddered as the winter air nipped at her skin. 

“Now you’re gonna freeze to death!”

“It’s okay, Paimon,” she said, beginning to pick up the unconscious man. “We need to find somewhere to stop and start a fire.”

Paimon nodded worriedly, trying to (unsuccessfully) help Lumine shoulder Childe. The traveler eventually had his arm slung across her shoulders, and her arm gripped his waist. 

The three shuffled down the path, searching for any sort of shelter or firewood. As time went on, Lumine felt colder and colder, her whole body beginning to ache under the weight of Childe. Every so often, she would call out his name, hoping to hear a response, but there was nothing. 

As she crested the top of the hill, she spotted a tiny cabin at the base. Her ragged breath became concentrated as she mustered up the last of her energy to drag Childe there. 

“Almost...there…,” she strained out. No response. 

“Come on! You can do it!” Paimon cheered, though her scared expression betrayed her positivity. 

Lumine was mere feet away from the door when she heard a familiar high pitched and distorted laughter ring out behind her. 

An Abyss Mage! 

She turned to see it prancing around in its bubble, icicles swirling around it. 

Great, a Cryo Mage at that.

She set Childe down gently, then drew her sword. The blade shook in her hand, her teeth chattering. And she still felt winded. But I have to protect us. 

“Try to wake him up,” she told Paimon. The tiny fairy nodded and started tapping his shoulder.

Lumine charged the mage. Her blade scraped against the frozen barrier. She slashed frantically, making miniscule scratches. Around her, icicles fell as the mage chanted spell after spell. It took all of her will to continuously dodge the attacks. Charging enough energy, she unleashed a Palm Vortex. The shield cracked considerably. 

I can do this. She leapt at the mage, striking a few times, then casted a Gust Surge. The bubble crackled. A few more hits and the shield will be down. Then, it’ll be a piece of cake. 

She started concentrating, trying to summon another Palm Vortex, when an icicle came unexpectedly from the side, slamming into her. She crumpled to the ground. 

Nononono. She tried to get up, arms shaking, fighting the exhaustion in her body. 

The sinister laughter drew closer as the mage floated towards her. It raised its staff, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

“Hey!” 

Lumine looked past the mage. 

There stood Childe, hunched over, gripping his side, but standing. She almost cried out in relief. 

The mage made noises of anger, blinking away, then reappearing closer to Childe. 

The Harbinger raised his hand, droplets forming from his palm. 

No, Childe wait—! His Hydro elements didn’t stand a chance in this battle. 

The beginnings of his spear formed. But then, the water quickly crystallized, turning into shards of ice, and dropping to the ground. Childe winced painfully. 

Lumine jumped up on her feet, her energy renewed, and raced towards the mage. 

The mage raised its staff again, forming a huge icicle above Childe. He wouldn’t have enough time to move, especially in his condition. The shard started falling. 

“Childe!” Lumine screamed. 

He closed his eyes. The mask sitting atop his head began to glow. It crackled with purple electricity, and spiraled out, creating a barrier. The large icicle shattered on impact. The mage shrieked in confusion. 

Lumine took the distraction, and destroyed the Abyss Mage’s shield, then stabbed its critical point: right through its head. It vanished into the air. 

“Good job...traveler…,” Childe said between heavy breaths. His voice sounded distorted, his eyes and expression darker than before. The electro-shield came down, and Lumine watched as he fell to his knees, before rushing over, and catching him before he fell down completely.

She felt his forehead on her bare shoulder. “You’re burning up,” she whispered. 

He laughed weakly, before descending into coughs. “I hate to say it, but I think you were right,” he murmured. 

She saw Paimon opening the door to the cabin. “Okay, c’mon, we only have a little bit to go, then we can rest.” She felt him nod. 

When the three finally got into the cabin, Lumine laid Childe down, folding their scarves to make a pillow, and covering him with their coats. Paimon helped carry some pieces of wood to her, and soon a small fire was started. The guide disappeared back into her world to let Lumine rest. 

Lumine finally let out a sigh of relief. She looked over Childe, making sure he didn’t have any injuries she didn’t notice before. Her eyes fell on his mask, the mask that created the electro-shield earlier. 

Two elements? That shouldn’t be possible. Was he different, like her? Not of this world? There was certainly something dark about the mask, lurking beneath the surface. 

She reached for the mask. Childe’s hand weakly sprung up, catching her before she could touch it. His eyes were still closed.

“Now, now, we don’t touch things that aren’t ours—isn’t that right, girlie?” he teased quietly. His voice was hoarse, strained. 

“Even on the verge of death, you love teasing me,” Lumine responded. He still hadn’t let go of her wrist. “And anyways, I dragged you all the way here. You could at least tell me what that thing is.” 

He opened his eyes, narrowly. “Sorry, sweetheart, Fatui secret.” Lumine tried pulling her wrist away, but he held onto it, then shifted it so he was holding her hand. “Thank you, Lumine.” 

She blushed. “I couldn’t just leave you out there to die.” She looked at their intertwined hands. “Why did you take this mission anyways? You know it’s dangerous during the Cryo months for a Hydro user like you.” 

There was a long pause of silence. She almost thought he had fallen asleep. 

“It was for Mondstadt,” he finally replied. “I knew you would be here.”

She was feeling warm. Too warm. Is it the fire? Am I getting sick too?

“You should get some sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up,” she said, completely avoiding what he said. He nodded and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. 

Lumine observed his sleeping face, how harmless he seemed right now. None of his antics. None of the mystery surrounding him. None of that lurking darkness. Just a sick, lonely boy. A sick, lonely boy completely vulnerable to the world. 

She started to get up, maybe to go cook some stew for him, but to her surprise, Childe held tightly to her hand. 

“Stay,” he said, hazily. His eyelids were fluttering, like he was struggling to open them. 

“...Okay.” Tired herself, she laid down next to him, tucking herself under the coats as well, glad for the warmth. 

He pulled her closer, letting go of her hand, and instead wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his head under her chin, like he was listening to her heartbeat—a heartbeat that was surely beating way too fast right now. This sickness is making him delusional…

She was about to start protesting when he started speaking. 

“No one ever stays,” Childe whispered. It had been no louder than a small leaf rustling in the nighttime wind; Lumine might not have heard it if she wasn’t listening. Her heart broke a little. 

She wrapped her arms tightly around him. You’re not alone.

“I’m here,” she whispered back. “I’m right here.”

[chaos-burst]

questions and answers

He had meant to be rude. And it had not worked even a little bit. Eodwulf is sure that anyone else would have been offended. Hell, he’s even sure that the other members of this weird group were absolutely offended on behalf of their friend. But Eodwulf can’t say he has ever met a person like this.

There was no malice, no ill intent, no anger.

When you work with Trent you have to be aware of every little shift in the mood. The slightest twitch of an eyebrow can mean the weather is about to turn foul. Eodwulf knows what to look out for. It had been his intent to rev this weirdo up and it had backfired spectacularly.

Damn.

No meat. No booze. And balls of steel, apparently. Eodwulf had never seen anyone talk to Trent like that. And while Bren‘s—Caleb‘s—words of wanting to kill Trent outright had been more than Eodwulf would ever admit to his mentor, it somehow felt less crazily reckless than to call Trent Ikithon, Archmage of Civil Influence for the Cerberus Assembly and one of the most powerful mages in the Empire, a fucking fool.

To his face. With a smile. In a complete sincere manner.

Eodwulf doesn’t want to replay the words in his head over and over again but his dumb brain has latched onto them and he can’t stop. Only this time it’s not one of Trent’s lessons that forces him to obsessively repeat something until you have internalized it to the point where you can cite it in your sleep.

No.

“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people.“

Eodwulf has it on repeat in his head the whole way back to the tower and it is still going when he lies down hours later to sleep.

“What are you“ had not been meant as a serious question when Eodwulf had asked it. But by the time he finally falls asleep he feels like it has become a very vital question indeed, because who or what would dare to speak to Master Trent Ikithon in a way like this with an honest smile on their face.

*

Because for some reason his thoughts have decided to betray him, Eodwulf’s brain makes his tongue and lips form the words again when they see the Mighty Nein the next time. This time, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited to dinner—Trent has very specifically not been invited, you could say he was uninvited with quite a few flowery words in a strange accent.

And as soon as Eodwulf sees Caduceus he remembers the weirdly polite scratching of a chair, the wide smile that indicates that this is a person Eodwulf possibly can not force to lose their composure through careful placed rudeness. And his mouth betrays him.

“So. What are you, really?“

Caduceus blinks mildly surprised before his unfamiliar features shift into a warm smile that has Eodwulf feel quite a lot of inappropriate things he didn’t expect to find in a place like this.

“Gardener. Maker of fine tea. A decent cook. Keeper of graves“, Caduceus lists of and he uses his long fingers to count the things that are important to him about himself.

“Very powerful cleric“, Jester chimes in from the right. She has Astrid next to her in a chair and Eodwulf is pretty sure that Jester has started to put flowers in Astrid’s hair. But surely he must be mistaken. Who in the Nine Hells are these crazy people?

“Oh, yeah. Well, that too, I suppose“, Caduceus says, his smile still warm like honeyed wine.

“Huh“, Eodwulf says because he can’t for the life of him think of something else to say. But Caduceus is yet again pulling out a chair for him so Eodwulf straightens his shoulders and sits down next to Caduceus. Across the table from him the angry one throws herself into a chair and stares at him.

There’s no fear there either, but she can be easily angered, something Eodwulf is good at. He gives her a canine smile and she holds up her middle finger.

This group is full of people with an enormous lack of self preservation.

And they are so loud.

Eodwulf almost doesn’t hear it when Caduceus turns to him to ask him a question.

“Huh?“, he says again, like a fool.

“And what are you, was what I wanted to know“, Caduceus says, his lazy grin open and honest. There is no malice in his words. He actually wants to know.

Eodwulf thinks “Murderer, wizard, protégé, spy“ but he doesn’t say any of these things. “Maker of graves“ comes to mind, but it seems like too dark of a joke to make.

“Enthusiastic about both meat and booze“, he says in the end and Caduceus laughs.

“Yeah, as are most of my friends.“

The implication these words bring is probably only in Eodwulf’s mind but it makes him swallow and look away to find Astrid’s eyes. But Astrid now has pink flowers in her hair and a look of absolute confusion on her face as Jester rattles of compliment after compliment about various of Astrid’s features.

Eodwulf can’t help but look at Bre—Caleb. And he sees that there is a soft, barely noticeable smile on his old friend’s face as he watches the scene unfold.

What am I, indeed, he thinks.

*

Trent’s orders have been clear. Get close to the group called the Mighty Nein to find out what they are working on with Lady Vess DeRogna.

Eodwulf allows himself to think that Caduceus might have been right. Maybe Master Ikithon is indeed a fool.

Because being in the presence of these people is like nothing Eodwulf has ever experienced and it makes him think, wonder, question—

“Here we are again“, Caduceus says after, yet again, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited for dinner. Eodwulf wonders if this group just wants to make it very easy to spy on them, or if they have an agenda of their own—but it’s hard to believe that there might be any coherent agenda behind anything these people do.

He has watched the buff one called Yasha try and play what looked like a harp made of bone and when the angry one, Beau, told her that she looked hot playing the harp Yasha had torn two of the strings which had led to a whole scene of apologies and various tries to fix the harp.

Jester has drawn dicks on pretty much every surface this magical mansion has and she delights in the fact that Caleb brings the dicks to life in various colors. At some point he made glowing sparkles shoot out of one of the dicks Jester had drawn and Jester had laughed as if this was the best joke she had ever witnessed.

Eodwulf notices Astrid’s eyes on Jester.

Eodwulf also notices that while there seems to be no agenda or efficiency behind anything, they are still being watched.

Beau and Fjord look at them. And Eodwulf is pretty sure Caduceus watches everything as well, but he does it without crossing his arms and glaring so much.

“Looks like it”, he answers. Caduceus offers him tea and Eodwulf’s first instinct is to decline, but then he remembers that “maker of fine tea” had been very high on the list of descriptors so he takes the cup he is offered while somewhere in the background people start screaming something that sounds like “FLUFFERNUTTER”.

Eodwulf tries the tea. He’s not a fan of tea, but this tea is absolutely delicious and he finds himself impressed.

“I believe this one comes from the Hollburns’ graves. Those remains made the tea grow quite fast, it was impressive.”

Eodwulf blinks at his tea and then at Caduceus. For a second his brain wonders if this statement should register as a threat, but it had been delivered with such honest delight and a sense of pride that Eodwulf discards that feeling.

“What?”, he asks. Caduceus points at the tea.

“Oh, well, my family grows tea on those graves we’re keeping. In case you wanted to ask me again what I am. Or—hm, I think I already mentioned that I am a keeper of graves?”

Caduceus trails off and looks thoughtful and Eodwulf stares at him.

“Keeper of Graves. That make you a follower of the Matron?”, he asks.

Caduceus looks at him and smiles.

“Not quite. My family serves Melora. But we are descended from a champion of the Raven Queen.”

Eodwulf can’t help but wonder if this was some kind of weird joke. But his goddess usually isn’t one for joking.

Eodwulf considers for a second, then he pulls out the raven feather pendant from under his cloak.

Caduceus nods. “So”, he says and smiles widely. “What are you?”

Eodwulf snorts.

“For real?”, he says.

Caduceus’ smile widens.

“For real.”

*

It feels like this has become a sort of game.

“What are you?”

“Moral compass. Middle sibling. Eccentric. Amateur flute player.”

Eodwulf finds that through this question he himself posed the first time, he’s been forced to think more about himself than he feels comfortable with.

“What are you?”

“Decent chess player. Dog person. Sportsman. Only child.”, are the things he says out loud.

“Self-made orphan. Patriot. Volstrucker. Torturer.”, are the things he thinks to himself.

Eodwulf has the impression that Caduceus is somehow aware of the things he doesn’t say.

*

“So. This is the crew you’re running with now?”, Eodwulf asks Bre—Caleb one night before the Mighty Nein will leave with Vess DeRogna to who-knows-where. Neither Astrid nor Eodwulf did get very far with their planned infiltration work. Eodwulf is not even sure how hard they even tried.

It’s very easy to get swept away by the chaos and the weirdness and the complete lack of fear that the group displays when it comes to him and Astrid. They are dangerous people in a lot of ways.

The Mighty Nein are also dangerous people in a very different way. A way that Eodwulf doesn’t know anything about.

“This is my family, ja.”

He says it, just like that, without looking at Eodwulf.

Family.

The word tastes bitter in Eodwulf’s mouth as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“Weird people”, he says. Caleb huffs.

“You can say that, yes. But they grow on you very quickly”, he answers quietly and with a small, fond smile that makes something inside Eodwulf ache. For a long time Eodwulf pitied Bren for breaking, for not making it, for failing, for being locked away and discarded. Now he realizes that maybe, in a very macabre sort of way, Bren becoming Caleb through failure was the better end of the bargain.

It feels blasphemous to think that.

“The pink one is especially weird”, Eodwulf finds himself saying and he takes a big swig of whiskey from his flask before handing it to Caleb.

“Ja, I noticed that you seem to have a... uh... particular kind of interest in him. And, if I may add, he in you.”

Eodwulf takes the flask back after Caleb drinks. He contemplates the different sorts of feelings inside his gut as the words sink in. Then he tucks it all away very carefully, just as he learned through many years of being in Trent’s presence.

“Still don’t know what he is”, Eodwulf says. Caleb snorts and shakes his head.

“His people are called Firbolg”, he provides.

“Not sure that’s what I mean. Not anymore, at least.”

It seems dangerous to admit that. Caleb turns his head and looks at Eodwulf with a shimmer in his eyes that Eodwulf can’t read. Many years ago he was able to read Bren like an open book, but Caleb is another book entirely.

“You deserve to have some nice things, you know. You deserve friends. A chance of—hm. A chance of peace. A chance for redemption, if you want it.”

Eodwulf gets up and tugs away his flask.

“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people. Pain is inconsequential, it’s love that saves them.”

Eodwulf understands the truth in these words now. Bren was broken, Caleb is being healed. Eodwulf doesn’t think that there’s anything left in him that can be saved. Or should be saved.

“Good luck on your journey tomorrow. Don’t die”, Eodwulf says and he leaves Caleb behind.

What are you, he thinks. A sentimental fool.

*

Astrid sits next to him on one of the balconies of her house and looks up at the stars above them. The Mighty Nein have been gone for six days and it has been very quiet.

They sit in silence and share a bottle of whiskey, passing it back and forth instead of words. It’s been like this for many many years that they’ve allowed themselves to just be. Today though, Astrid breaks the silence.

“I’m going to be the one who kills him.”

She says it quietly, without remorse, without indicating that this is a scandalous statement. She says it just how other people would say “I’ll go to bed soon.”.

Eodwulf stops breathing for just a moment. Then he inhales the cool night air and turns his head to look at her.

“Could kill you for treason”, he says. She looks at him and cocks her head slightly, the analyzing gaze of a murderous spy meets its equal in silence.

“I’d love to see you try”, she says. Eodwulf grins. It feels reckless.

“Don’t die”, he says, the same thing he’s said to Caleb before. Astrid regards him for a long moment and Eodwulf takes another sip. “Will you help me or try to stop me?”

Eodwulf considers this for a moment. Would he try to stop Astrid should she try to kill Trent? No. Would he help her? He doesn’t know that either.

“Can’t you just wait for Bren to do it for you?”

“I won’t lose to him again.”

Eodwulf snorts.

Always so competitive.

“That’s some fucked up shit, Astrid.”

“Shut up, Arschloch.”

Eodwulf grins before getting up to stretch. He puts his hands on the railing of Astrid’s balcony and wonders what Caleb’s new family is up to.

Making a new family never came to mind before. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale. While he contemplates the question whether he would help Astrid kill Trent Ikithon, a slow, familiar voice pops up in his head.

“Hey. Uh—Jester told me to send you an update. We’re still alive. Hope you’re good. Got  a new question for you. What will you become?”

The rustling of Astrid’s clothes as she stands up as well somehow tells him that she received a message in her head as well. She steps beside him and puts her hands on the railing next to his.

“They’re persistent”, she says quietly.

Eodwulf nods and inhales.

He doesn’t know what he will become. He didn’t even know that was a question to be asked. The path is clear. It always was.

Pain doesn’t make people.

“Not going to answer?”, she wants to know.

“Don’t have an answer yet.”

It’s unclear to him whether she means her own question or the message Caduceus just sent him.

He answers the sending spell with a simple “I don’t know.”. It takes a few minutes before another message comes in.

“That’s good. Uncertainty is good. It’s the first step in a better direction. I’m going to kill a dragon now. Wish me luck. Good night.”

“I’ll keep you posted on the answer to that question of yours. I’ll see you tomorrow”, he says and leaves Astrid behind on the balcony. Eodwulf thinks about something he hasn’t thought about in a very long time. A priestess in his Matron’s temple once told him: “Death is the only certainty in life.”.

He thinks that Caduceus would agree.

And Eodwulf hopes that the next time he sees that weird, reckless man, he’ll have an answer for him.

[capt-spooki3]

By The Witch's Grace

Chapter One

A Sbi "choose your own story" fanfiction

It seems Y/n, a known and hated magic user in their small town, has a lot to deal with after the rowdy bunch that is Philza, Wilbur, Technoblade, and Tommy, show up at their door step in the midst of a giant snow storm...

Warning: Cursing, talk of hate/discrimination

2.6k words

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“Alright, we need flour, milk, apples... Uh no no stop meowing, please. Shit okay, flour, milk, apples, and what? Oh god, was it- oh! Bottles! Of course, geez.” Y/n laughs at themself before kneeling down, and pets the head of their cat who was demanding their attention. The little feline, who looked like a little toasted marshmallow, purred and meowed as she was happy with the much-needed attention.

“Alright Poppy, I’ll be back. Be a good little girl for me, okay? I’ll be back in time to give you supper I promise.” They baby talked to the cat with little forehead kisses before getting back up to their feet and reaching toward the wall where a large cloak was hung on a large nail next to the door. They threw on the heavy fabric and clasped the small glass button to keep it on their shoulders, their hand lingering as it passed over the glassy eye that permanently stayed on a chain around their neck. The result of a curse placed, not too long ago, that bound it to their person until death. Just the luck of someone who often plays with magic that they can barely comprehend.

The piece would pass as a decoration to any untrained eye, but to those who delved into the arts of magic, any one of them could tell you what this object was. With the deep and light greens with accents of blue and a cat-eye pupil that was forever staring, there was no mistaking an eye of ender. The object was rich in stored-up mana, but it was no joke. Even with the most skilled of mages, they had to be most cautious and limit their time interacting with the eye. The sooner they distanced themself from it the better as the eye has been heavily rumored to take possession of people who use its magic for too long. Mages long past wrote notes in books, Y/n as read countless times, on how the eye has influenced beings to cause great harm and destruction. Its motives are still unknown. 

With the object on their person 24/7, they take caution every moment in case the eye decides it's time to take control. They hope it isn't any time soon.

Tucking the eye of ender under the latch of the cloak, they peeked outside to be met with chilled air kissing their cheeks. The bitter promise of snow.

More the reason to get their errands done as soon as they could to get back home. As if their life being in danger wasn’t the biggest reason to rush so they could hide again. They carefully pulled on their hood and hid as much of their features as they could within the cloak before stashing a satchel that jingled with coins and setting off through the door.

Being able to leave their distant home was always a treat, but also a constant threat to their life. They were never positive if they would return home after each venture. As a magic user, thoughtfully given the nickname of ‘Witch’ from the townsfolk, they weren’t liked much. They made the mistake of trying to show off their powers once before learning quickly that magic was despised among these people. It was only associated with the rich who treated people lower than them like they were dirt under their shiny boots. Luckily they still had a vendor in the town that sold to them, it was the only thing keeping them going.

After about a hour walk down a few winding forest paths that they carved out by themself after years of taking the same route, the port town was in view. Snow littered the ground to the sides of the dirt roads that they walked along and the small breeze that was present ran cold, the overcast sky promised a harsh amount of snow. That is bound to make next week fun. They sure were lucky to bring extra coins so they can stock up.

Once reaching the main town, they made sure to keep their head down and slip through the hundreds of bodies at the markets. It was all routine now, sadly. They took a turn down an alley that harbored a few stray cats and even a dog that scattered when they pressed on down the alley. Softly, they knocked a code to the shopkeep on the old wooden door.

The door just barely creaked open and an old green eye peered out. Y/n looked down to meet the weary eye peeking out at them and couldn't fight a smile. An old cackle rang out and the door opened up wide to an older woman. She was small and had all gray and white hair that was long and braided over her shoulder, but her eyes were alive and she was brimming with joy.

“Oh my little bird, how are you doing?” She said fondly with a slight German accent and Y/n knelt for the woman when she reached to hold their cheeks and look them over.

“I’m well Oma, thank you. You look as young as ever.” The kind words made the woman laugh and she put her hands on her hips and let out a sigh of contentment.

“So what do you need today? I just got in a big order of sugar if you want some.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful actually. I need flour, milk, and is Opa at his shop today? I need apples and he always has those bottles that I need.”

“Actually, he is home sick today,” She started and she walked into the shop to retrieve what Y/n needed. “He caught a small cold but he’ll be better soon. Wait just a moment and I’ll go grab everything.”

The lady went off on her way and Y/n sat on the doorstep, waiting and watching the people walk past the end of the alley. They cringed to themselves whenever they caught the word witch in some distant conversations, they seemed to be a tall tale at this point. At least they weren’t being actively hunted down anymore.

A few long minutes passed and there was a small thump that caught their attention in the shop, when they looked back there were two large sacks and no sign of the woman. Rest assured, after a few moments, the old lady was just barely managing to carry two more large sacks filled to the brim with the few things they had asked for plus much more as they usually only bring one sack home each trip.

“Oma! Oh no, I don’t have enough for all of this! Besides, I can’t possibly carry this all back home.”

“I know, I know. You’ll need it with the weather we have coming on tonight, as payment you can show me that magic you talked about last time. You know that… carrying magic..” She gestured wildly, trying her hardest to remember the word as Y/n stood back up.

“Oh, my spatial magic? I’m not too good at it, but I am sure I can manage this. Alright, are you ready?” They checked the alley for possible watching eyes before holding their hands out with their palms toward the bags.

The old woman stepped back and watched with excitement, her eyes practically sparkling already. Y/n closed their eyes and sucked in a deep breath, their hand flexing a bit and opening wider. A soft purple light began to emit from their hands and two thin, long arms that seemed to be made from the night sky itself stretched out and each hand touched the sack and engulfed it in darkness before retreating back within Y/n’s hands. They let out their held and concentrated breath with a deep sigh, their muscles and bones feeling heavy as they held some of the weight of the sacks within their being.

“That was amazing! Oh, you are so talented, I am so proud of you.” The woman said happily and walked forward, pulling Y/n down and kissing the head of the young mage she seemed to love. “Please hurry home now, stay safe. Opa and I love you and I hope to see you again soon.” 

She waved them off and Y/n waved back, pulling their hood down more for precaution, and slipped into the crowd toward the road they took back home. They felt rather blessed they were able to make it home without even a scare.

They walked along the road, waiting to see their well-worn path as the heaviness of their body grew with walking uphill. Using magic like this weighed on the body and the soul with however much the individual was carrying. They reached up, pulling down the clasp to their cloak to reveal the eye of ender to the world. As much as they didn't want to rely on its power, it was the only way they would confidently make it home. Grasping the warm object tight, it pulsed with magic beneath their fingers as if it were alive, they sent their mana into the eye to mix and grant them a magic boost. They knew quite well the item was evil and no good to toy with, what else should one do when it's bound to them for life? With a soft purple glow to their eyes now, their body felt lighter and the strain to keep their goodies in a personal pocket in the dimension lifted almost completely. They shook off their bits of anxiety with the gain of power and picked up the pace to get home as small flurries were filling the air around them.

The walk back home was fast and they were beyond relieved upon opening the door and feeling the hug of the warm cottage and a string of excited meows when their familiar raced to greet them.

“Hey Poppy, miss me?” They stroked the cat before kneeling on the ground to perform the same technique of magic for consuming the sacks to spit them back out onto the ground in front of them and hummed a soft tune while they went through the goodies and put them in their respected places around the three stories of the home. Before they noticed it, the world outside had grown dark and they lit the lanterns around the house and peered through a window to see the snow blowing strongly and the wind howling, they hadn’t even gotten a chance to see the sunset. This was turning out to be a real blizzard, they did a silent prayer that it wouldn’t last long.

Just as Y/n was trying to put the last of the sugar away there was a heavy thump on the door followed by a hurried couple of knocks of which were all inconsistent but did the job of grabbing their attention. They fumbled with the sugar but safely put it down before hurrying to the door, their fast movements spooked the cat and caused her to scramble away to go hide.

Once getting the locks undone they opened up the door to see four individuals standing there, waiting. Two of the larger individuals there stood on the sides to frame the group in a way. The one on the left most who had shoulder-length pink hair and noticeable tusks sticking out from his bottom lip and inhuman down pointed ears, was using his large, red cloak to hold a blond boy who was about to his shoulder, against him and shield him from the snow. The two both had on heavy armor, though, the blond’s armor was a bit more leather than metal. On the other end stood a taller man with brown hair who also was in armor and was hunched over to be able to get covered by a large dark grey wing that held him. Said wings belonging to a man who was shorter than the brunette and had on expensive-looking mage robes and messy blond hair. The winged man looked to Y/n in desperation as he began to speak.

“Please let us stay for the night. We will leave as the sun rises, please just-”

“Stop talking- just come in. Hurry! It’s got to be below zero out there.” Y/n hurriedly ushered the bunch inside as they held the door open for them.

The burly pink-haired man was the first to make a move as he pushed the blond boy off of him and through the doorway and was already reaching over to push the brown-haired man next. He made sure the winged individual made his way in before going in. He looked at Y/n who was still holding the door and adjusted his jaw, a nervous habit it seemed, eyes darting around a bit before he returned his eyes to them and gave a nod of appreciation.

Y/n barley was able to get the door closed after him before they turned around and was assaulted with a hug from the winged man, he was incredibly cold. They hugged the man back, rubbing his back a little as he said many soft thank yous to them, though they watched the other three who stood close and looked around at the bottom portion of their home. The blond boy hugged himself close, shivering and the brunette rubbed his back as he looked around.

They hope they wouldn’t regret not thinking it through before letting a bunch of strange people into their home.

“I truly cannot thank you enough for this. We would have died out there.” The man said as he finally let go of Y/n and studied their face for a moment, looking for words it seemed. “We should introduce ourselves. I’m Phil and the big guy back there is Technoblade. The lanky one is Wilbur and the blond one between them is Tommy. They are my sons.”

Y/n watched them as Phil introduced them, each of them giving them some sort of little greeting when they were called. Whether it was a head nod or a little wave or a smile. They seemed nice.

“One hell of a family..” Y/n mumbled which Phil seemed quite funny and even Wilbur chuckled a bit.

“Oh yeah, but they are my boys.” He said while looking at the three with fondness.

The sweet moment was caught a little short when Technoblade crossed his arms, his body language screaming distrust. He looked down at Y/n and sized them up as he grumbled out a question that sounded more like a command. “What is your name. Who are you.”

“Techno- for god’s sake be a little nicer could ya? Bloody hell, they just saved us.” Wilbur retorted and Technoblade huffed a little growl and looked away. Wilbur gave a short and annoyed sigh, looking back at Y/n as he pulled his hand away from Tommy and instead rested a hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist. It wasn’t meant to be seen as a threat, but the gesture did make Y/n a bit uneasy as they shuffled back a tad. Instead, he just spoke kindly with an inviting hand gesture.

“What is your name?” He stated and he and Phil looked at them expectantly.

They hesitated for a moment with the eyes on them and cleared their throat, standing taller. “My name is Y/n... it’s nice to meet all of you.” They thought for a moment about what they should say to these people who stood awkwardly, warming up from the cold. “How about I uh… go get some blankets for you all. Blankets and I’ll set up my two spare rooms.” They added as more of a side note to themselves than the group and hurried up the stairs to get things together. 

This was going to be a long night. They can only hope the snow stops soon.

[Chapter Two]

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