#gallowglass x oc

[plaidbooks]

Homegrown chapter 11

A/N: Sorry I’ve been absent on this story--this chapter was hard for me to write. But I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless! This also doubles as the Free Space square in @adarafaelbarba‘s bday bingo (I’m counting it as First Kiss)!

Tags: talks of mating (in the adow sense)

Words: 1635

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @adowbaldwin

For the first time since her abduction, Lyra slept fully, never once having a nightmare. Anytime she regained even a little bit of consciousness, she felt Gallowglass beside her, his strong arms holding her, and she fell back asleep.

But once she was actually awake, the room slightly lighter in morning than the dark of night, she realized how tight his hold on her was. Gallowglass had his left arm wrapped over her uninjured shoulder. His right arm was around her hip, and his hands were clasped in the middle of her back. There was no moving from his grasp on her, and from his slow, deep breath on her face, he was still deep in sleep.

Lyra’s eyes flickered open, and it took her a moment to adjust to the low light in the room. They settled on Gallowglass’s face—she had never been this close to him before. She scanned his sleeping face, enjoying how vulnerable he was with her. His face was stress-free, the lines smoothed out and the worried little pinch between his eyebrows was gone. She could see the lines around his mouth and eyes—a sign of multiple lifetimes spent laughing.

She looked at his facial hair, noticing every little strand. Only then did she notice a thin, white scar on his cheek; it was virtually invisible, mostly hidden by his beard, and she wondered how he got it. Then she started wondering how many other scars he had, both visible and on the inside. She vaguely acknowledged that she herself would probably have scars from her time with Liam.

Slowly, Gallowglass’s breath picked up. Lyra watched as he woke, his face scrunching softly—it was probably the cutest thing she’d ever seen. Finally, his eyes blinked open, connecting with her bright eyes.

He smiled softly, breathing out a soft, “hi.”

Her answering smile made his heart flutter in his chest. “Hi, Eric. Did you sleep well?”

“Better with ya beside me.”

She let out a giggle before nuzzling against his chest. It felt so right, having her in his arms like this, and it seemed that time slowed down, letting them bask in the morning sun. Soon enough, Lyra was back asleep against him, and he grinned.

But his joy was short lived; he knew he was going to have to talk to her about mating sooner or later. The longer he sat on it, the worse it would be.

 **************

It was midday when Lyra woke once more. She stretched her good arm above her, wincing only slightly, before letting out a yawn. Gallowglass was still in bed with her but had left briefly while she slept to retrieve a book.

He placed a bookmark in the book. “How’re you feeling, my sweet flùr?” he asked when she finished stretching.

“A little sore, but much better, thank you,” she replied with a soft smile.

Slowly, he leaned over and set his book on the nightstand. “Here, let me grab you some food and tea—”

“Don’t!” Lyra said in a panic, eyes wide. Then she seemed to shrink in on herself. In a small voice, she muttered, “don’t leave me, please.”

He settled back on the bed, and she curled closer to him. “Okay, I’ll stay here. Besides, I’m sure Marthe is already putting a tray together for you.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before there was a knock on the door. Then Marthe was pushing into the room, a steaming mug and an array of fruits, vegetables, and nuts on a bed tray. Gallowglass helped Lyra sit up as Marthe put the tray across her legs. Then, shocking Gallowglass, Marthe kissed the top of Lyra’s head before retreating from the room.

The room fell to silence outside of the sounds of Lyra eating and drinking. Gallowglass was lost in thought, trying to figure out where to start with the concept of mating.

“Lyra…do you know what…what the word ‘mating’ means?” he finally asked. Might as well start there.

“Do you mean the act of mating between two animals to produce offspring?” she asked as she nibbled an apple slice.

If Gallowglass could blush, he would. “Not…exactly. See, in the vampire world, mating is a biological…thing. It’s a bonding, um, thing that vampires have with each other. And sometimes, with other creatures.”

Lyra finished her apple slice, chewing slowly while she thought and swallowing. “A bonding…thing? Like, two creatures bonding together?”

“Yes, exactly!” he said, glad she was following along. “For vampires, they take one mate, and they’re mated for life. Marcus and Phoebe are mated, for example.”

“So, they’ll be together for life?”

Gallowglass was nodding now, and excitement building up in him—along with nerves going haywire. This is what he’d been waiting for. “Yeah, they will be…. I bring this up because…I think you…and I…” his voice trailed off, his nerves and doubts taking over his mind. If she rejected him, if she said no—

“Are we mates, Eric?” she asked plainly. Her voice and face were neutral, unreadable—or maybe his head was so full of anxiety that he couldn’t look at her straight.

He finally looked away, unable to take those bright green eyes any longer. “Yes,” he muttered, lips barely moving, “yes, I think we are.”

Very gently, she cupped his cheek with her good hand. His beard tickled her palm; she didn’t try to move his head, just wanting the connection. “Good. Because I don’t think I could imagine my life without you, Eric.”

The words hung in the air for a beat before he looked up at her, her hand still on his cheek. “Really? Y—you understand that you’ll be stuck with me for life—”

“I do.” Lyra smiled, her warmth melting the cold shield he’d used to protect himself his whole life. “How do I become your mate? Or do we just say it?”

Gallowglass smiled, tempted to cry, to laugh, to scream his love for this woman next to him. “To initiate a mating, you have to kiss me with nothing but love for me.” Even saying the words out loud sounded like some sort of fairy tale, but a thought occurred to him. “Wait, do you know what a kiss is?”

Lyra rolled her eyes playfully, “of course, I know what a kiss is, Eric.” Then, she leaned in towards him.

Gallowglass had pictured kissing Lyra too many times to count; how soft her lips would be. In his mind, she’d part her lips in surprise at how he kissed her, and he’d be quick to push his tongue into her mouth. That’s when he’d slow down, take his time to memorize every inch he could. She’d figure it out by then and would roll her tongue with his, melting into his body as they kissed forever.

In the present, Gallowglass ducked his head down, helping Lyra to reach him, his eyes closed, and she pecked his lips, their lips touching for less than a nanosecond. He opened his eyes to find her smiling up at him, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” Lyra asked, frowning. “Did I do it wrong?”

It took Gallowglass a moment to compose himself, shaking his head. “No, I’m laughing at myself, and my lack of foresight.” When she just tilted her head in confusion, he continued, “there’s more than one kind of kissing. What you did is called a ‘peck,’ and is normally reserved for your granny.”

Lyra’s eyes went wide, and she covered her mouth with her good hand in surprise. “So, I did mess it up! Did I mess up the mating? Are we not mated anymore?”

“Hey, hey, calm down—ya didn’t mess anything up, I promise. How about we try again, but this time, I lead?”

“What if I mess it up, Eric?” she asked, big eyes looking ready to cry.

“You won’t, my sweet flùr. Just follow my lead; we’ll go slow.”

Lyra took a deep breath to help blink away her tears, then she waited for Gallowglass. He was giddy with nerves again, but this time, he was filled with excitement to kiss her. He moved in, tilting his head, and when Lyra started tilting the same way, he grinned before tilting her the other way.

Gallowglass had never been a slow, gentle lover. He knew what he liked, and he tended to seek out partners who wanted the same. “Restraint” wasn’t a term he attributed to himself, but he knew this had to be different; Lyra wasn’t anything like his previous lovers. And he loved that about her.

The moment their lips met, he had the urge to completely dominate the kiss, to push her down and make out with her until neither could draw breath. But he fought this primal side of himself, making sure his lips moved slowly against hers.

Lyra picked this up quick enough, and soon, they were kissing slow and passionately. Gently, he bit her bottom lip, and she let out a little gasp of surprise—the sound going straight to his cock. His tongue parted her lips, and he licked into her mouth, savoring her taste. She was sweet from the fruit she was eating, but also something that was distinctly her.

Slowly, Lyra pulled back, much too soon for Gallowglass’s liking, but he forced himself not to chase her lips. The sight before him, however, was almost his undoing; Lyra’s pupils were blown wide, her eyes were half-lidded, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were slightly swollen.

“O—oh,” she muttered softly, a small, shy smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“You okay?” Gallowglass asked, his voice huskier than normal.

Lyra nodded. “Can we…can we kiss again?”

He grinned, pulling her back in for another slow, deep kiss. And as their lips melded together, they felt something in their very souls reaching out and tangling together.

[apinchofm]

Fic Rec Weekend List!

(was meant to post yesterday but Wash Day took long!) but without further ado, some fics I think you should very much read!

The Right Bridgerton by stellata

Benophie is my life and love, but if you know me, you know I love a good crackship and Edwina/Benedict are one of my new faves. This is already a really fun fic, featuring Anthony and Benedict fighting over Edwina whilst Kate and Mary laugh in the background and Violet sighs.

Bridgerton and Sons by @newtonsheffield

Love this dearly, and everyone should read it! A brilliant modern Bridgerton AU.

This Town by @viscountessevie

You should read all of Sahara's fics anyway, but this is such a well-written exploration of John and Francesca and Frannie's grief. May have you sobbing.

Hope by TooYoungToFeelThisTired

Edwina's first ball after her scandalous first season doesn't go as planned. Panic attack but she luckily has a knight in shining armour!

Ragnall & Astraea, 1269-1270 C.E. by TheModernTypewriter

This series continues to have me in my feels and Addison is back and this time in Sept Tours. Can't wait to see the rest of her time.

A Touch of Homesickness and Dear Miss Marina Thompson by @isdathriantionnsgnadh

I love these fics! A Touch of Homesickness is a crossover of ADOW and Bridgerton in which the good Doctor Whitmore meets Miss Edwina when she's unwell and works to help her. Already so cute and so much fun.

Miss Marina Thompson is the story she deserves!! George and Marina fall in love and learn more about her family and her mother. Just in love with it!

Only You Always by @tiffanytlee  and The Embers of Our Love by cococris (@dreamofme9) are permanent fixtures lol.

[witches-unruly-heart]

Gallowglass for zodiac and color?

And maybe Lyra, too? 👀🥰

Of course I'll do both of them! They're my loves! 🥰

So Gallowglass first -- I couldn't choose between two colors, so its a mix of both 😅❤️

As for the zodiac signs I took the positives of Virgo and the negatives of Gemini 🥰

Now onto Lyra 🥰

Here I also couldn't pick a color, so you get two 🥰

and for her zodiac sign I feel she has the positives of Aquarius and the negatives of Pisces 😅❤️

[adarafaelbarba]

Would you be willing to write Gallowglass x Lyra? If not, I totally understand!

But with the compliment “when you blush, it’s the cutest thing ever”

I will do my best for you my angel 🫣❤️

The two had been sat in the garden all day, planting new herbs. Well, it had been mostly Lyra planting, and Gallowglass trying his best to make her laugh with his stories.

He loved to hear her laugh, the sound being like music to his ears. And he told her as much, which made her blush like mad.

"When ya blush, it's the cutest thing ever," Gallowglass stated, looking at her with the biggest, softest grin.

The comment only made her blush more.

"fuck, yer killing me here!" He said, a groan slipping him.

"Right back at you Eric! You're the one making me as red as a tomato!" she was indeed red in the face. And Gallowglass couldn't help but lean in and kiss both cheeks, then her nose, forehead, chin, and finally, her lips.

She smiled into the kiss, cupping his face with her hand, holding him close.

"I love your kisses, Eric. Don't ever stop them." And he promised he never would.

[mrs-declermont]

What if Gallowglass grew out his hair again--but longer, down his back--and he teaches Lyra how to do warrior braids?

Ooooo I want him to grow it back out! 😍

I feel though that Lyra might want to surprise him by learning it herself. Doing some searching in books, online, or talking to Diana, Ysabeau, and Miriam for inspiration.

Once the women of the family all know what she's planning, Freyja jumps in and just "You should have come to me first Lyra, these women, love to bits, don't know how to do propper warrior braids, especially not the ones from Gallowglass' time. I'll teach you."

The two bond over many nights practicing, while Gallowglass is none the wiser about his mates intentions.

[plaidbooks]

Homegrown chapter 9

A/N: Hey y’all! So, this chapter mostly follows Gallowglass and his pov. Lyra will be more in the next chapter! Hope you all enjoy!

Tags: minor talks of injuries, some self-hatred from GG

Words: 1825

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @adowbaldwin

“Well?” Gallowglass asked, his arms crossed. He was leaning against the wall across from the door to Lyra’s room, eyes to the floor.

“Her left shoulder is broken, along with a few ribs and more bruised. She has a concussion and multiple cuts, but otherwise, she’s fine,” Marcus answered, closing Lyra’s door softly, letting her sleep. He’d have to wake her up soon to make sure the concussion didn’t worsen.

Gallowglass nodded, then turned to resume his pacing.

Marcus watched for a moment before tackling the elephant in the room. “Are you really not going to go see her?”

“No.”

“Why not? She needs you now more than ever,” Marcus reasoned.

“I can’t.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “And why not? Too busy hating yourself?” Gallowglass stopped pacing and glared at his cousin, but Marcus simply scoffed, “I’ve seen it enough with Matthew.”

“I’m not hating myself—not like Matthew does. But I’m…fighting.”

“Fighting? Fighting what? You don’t have bloodrage.”

Gallowglass looked away. “I know that. But…seeing his mark on her, when she’s my mate…. My instinct is pushing me to…exert my dominance, to mark my mate as mine. But that would only hurt and confuse her more. I can’t do that to her, Marcus.”

Marcus thought about this—he imagined what he’d do and feel if Phoebe had been bitten by an enemy vampire. Even thinking about it had him clenching his fists, grinding his jaw.

Even so…. “You can’t just abandon her, not now.”

Gallowglass had no response to that, and he resumed his pacing. Marcus just sighed, then went to grab a glass of water for his new patient.

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

The first thing Lyra noticed was the pain throughout her body. Whenever she felt like one part hurt the most, another would throb, and she’d wince.

The second thing she noticed was a vampire’s gaze on her face. Fear rushed through her as she thought of Liam watching her sleep. But when her eyelids fluttered open, she found Marcus sitting by her bed.

“It’s just me, Lyra,” he said, nostrils flaring slightly as he took in her scent of fear. “Here, drink this.” He handed her a glass of water, and she took it with a shaky hand. It was then that she noticed her left arm in a sling. Marcus saw her confusion and fought the urge to sigh—he wasn’t as used to her ignorance as Gallowglass was.

“Your shoulder is broken—it’ll be in that sling for quite a while.” His expression softened, as did his voice, “you’re pretty beaten up, so just take a few days to rest, yeah?”

Marcus took the glass from her after she drank her fill, and she cleared her aching throat. “Where’s Eric?” she asked, voice raspy.

“He’s…busy. Family business. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Lyra nodded, but the motion hurt her head, and she closed her eyes against the nausea. A tear escaped down her cheek, then another. She missed Gallowglass, needed his calmness to be there with her, to help explain what the hell happened.

“You should rest some more,” Marcus said. “I’ll wake you in a bit to make sure you’re doing okay. And if the pain is too much, I can get you some morphine—it’s a drug that—”

“No!” Lyra objected, eyes flying open. “No drugs, please.”

Marcus’s eyes scanned her face before he agreed, “no drugs, then.”

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

Gallowglass stood next to Lyra’s bed, watching the rise and fall of her chest. She’d been home for a few days now, and the bruises on her face and body were finally starting to fade. Unbidden, his eyes would trail to the bandage on her neck. Being a vampire bite, it should’ve already healed by now, but Gallowglass knew Marcus had it covered for his benefit.

He still couldn’t bring himself to see Lyra when she was awake. As much as he reassured Marcus that he was having trouble with the bite, that was only a partial truth. The full truth was exactly what Marcus thought it was—he hated himself. It was his fault Lyra had been taken, he just knew it. And then add on that he hadn’t been there to protect her.

Which is why he decided to make his lie the truth. Lyra believed that he was gone on family business, and so, he would leave, asking Baldwin for something to do. That is, if his uncle decided to speak to him again. Gallowglass could still feel where Baldwin had struck him, even if it had healed.

“You killed the only lead we had!” Baldwin had yelled once Lyra was home safely. Then, his uncle had left, heading back to the Congregation.

Lyra’s blood pressure rose slightly, and Gallowglass was snapped back to the present. He watched her face scrunch up, and he knew she was having a nightmare. An urge swept through him, and he took a step towards her, hand outstretched. He wanted to wake her, to save her from her fears, but he stopped himself. With a sigh, he headed for her door.

If he couldn’t save her from another vampire, then he wouldn’t save her from anything, ever.

 *****************

The sun was starting to rise when Gallowglass made it to his motorcycle. He was done with this place, with France in general. Every time he was here, it just hurt more. The spirit of Hugh refused to leave him alone, but at least with Lyra, it was bearable.

Lyra…. No, he wasn’t going to think about her nestled in her bed, crying for him. He knew she did, could hear her sobs as he sat in the hallway, just out of sight. He had heard her ask Marcus with every visit when he’d be back.

Today, though, she finally asked, “is Eric mad at me?” It broke his heart to think that she believed his anger rested upon her. So, he’d leave her behind, forever. Let her think of him what she will—hell, it’d be better if she hated him. Even if the thought made his eyes burn.

“So, when do I get to meet my daughter-in-law?” a familiar voice asked from the shadows.

It wasn’t often that someone could sneak up on Gallowglass, but his papai had his ways. Still, Gallowglass was trained to not show his emotions, and he didn’t let his shock show.

“Never,” he replied, not turning from his motorcycle.

Fernando stepped towards him, melding out from the shadows to stand by him. “And here I thought I’d regal her with tales of your adolescence.” He smiled, but Gallowglass knew he wasn’t stupid; he could see what his son was doing.

“I’m leaving, papai,” Gallowglass said, throwing a leg over the motorcycle.

“No, you’re running. Something I find you doing more and more,” Fernando replied, his eyes sad. “I thought you were the muscle of the family. The one people didn’t mess with. Not the one to turn tail when it gets too hard—”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Gallowglass growled. The past few days, he’s kept his emotions in check, but now that he was having his insecurities shoved in his face, his blood was boiling. “She deserves better than me, someone who won’t get her killed!”

Fernando simply shook his head, his calming demeanor infuriating. “So, is that it? She’s too weak for you?”

“I never said she’s weak! She’s pure, innocent, and she doesn’t need a monster like me to drag her into hell!”

“You’re afraid of bringing her into your world,” Fernando said with understanding.

“Finally, ya get it!” Gallowglass yelled, gesturing with an arm. But Fernando wasn’t done.

“And you’re afraid to join her world.”

He glared at his papai. “What the hell does that mean?!”

“I know you, William—you think through multiple possibilities. It’s how you’ve stayed alive so long,” Fernando said. “Sure, you’re afraid that staying here with Lyra will put her in danger—and you were proven right with her abduction. But you also could take her back home and stay with her in an unnamed cottage, in an unnamed forest.”

Gallowglass let these words sink in, shaking his head slightly, but Fernando continued, “this, of course, would mean that you’d have to settle down. But you’re a nomad, never stilling in one place long enough for anything. You’re afraid to let yourself feel happiness, peace, love. And joining Lyra in her world would mean leaving Gallowglass de Clermont behind, and becoming Eric, which is uncharted territory for you.”

For one brilliant, beautiful moment, Gallowglass envisioned it; him and Lyra outside a small cottage, working in the garden. Her hair and smile are bright in the sun, her eyes full of love and adoration as she laughs at something he said.

A blood tear welled and dripped down his cheek. Fuck, he wanted that so, so badly. But then his insecurities came crashing back in. Could he live with her like that? What if one of his many enemies finds them? What if Baldwin or Marcus call him in through the Knights or family? And what if Lyra learned of his murderous and violent past? He never claimed to be a saint, but he was afraid of the terror she’d have—he got a glimpse of it in that hellhole he found her in, and it hurt so bad, like a dagger in his heart.

“You’re overthinking again,” Fernando said, bringing him back to the present, straddling his motorcycle.

“Too much could go wrong,” Gallowglass replied, shaking his head.

Fernando moved in front of his motorcycle, stopping him from leaving. “Do you think love is easy? Like it’s not a commitment you have to work on daily? No one ever said having a mate was easy! But the point is that you have each other through the downs and celebrate during the ups! For fuck’s sake, William, get your head out of your ass and take advantage of the gift the Gods have given you!”

Gallowglass blinked as if his papai had hit him. All the fight drained out of him, and he was a boy looking at his father once more.

“I’m scared, papai,” he muttered, voice wavering. He slumped forward, wishing that he could cry like a human.

Fernando stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Gallowglass’s broad shoulders and holding him close. “Love is scary, William, but so, so worth it. Trust me, having a mate will change your whole life for the better.”

They stood in an embrace while the sun rose above the hills. The birds started chirping, and the day started anew. With the warmth of the morning sun, a resolve settled on his shoulders.

Finally, when Gallowglass composed himself, he muttered, “ready to meet her?”

Fernando’s face broke into a wide smile, “of course!”

“She’s not your daughter-in-law yet, so don’t call her that, okay?”

Fernando laughed, making Gallowglass chuckle. Then, he led his papai into the chateau.

[plaidbooks]

Homegrown chapter 10

A/N: Hey peeps! This will probably be the last fic  I post before the new year, so I hope you enjoy! It’s a lot of talking, but I hope that’s alright!

Tags: none

Words: 1746

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @adowbaldwin

Gallowglass sat in the chair that Marcus normally occupied, waiting for Lyra to awake. Fernando thought it best to give them some alone time; no doubt, he was pestering Marthe in the kitchens.

Lyra’s face scrunched slightly, and she shifted. Her blood pressure was going up and she let out the softest whimper. She was having nightmares again. Almost every night, she was plagued with nightmares, and Gallowglass had simply stood there, wishing to reach out but terrified of facing her when she awoke. This time, though, he reached out and gently covered her hand with his.

Instantly, her eyes fluttered as she woke. The scent of fear was still rolling off her in waves, but when her gaze connected with Gallowglass’s, a shocked smile appeared on her lips.

“Eric?” she whispered, struggling to sit up straight against the pillows propped behind her. “Is this a dream?”

He stood, helping her sit up, but gently pushed her back down against the pillows rather than letting her fully up. “It’s not a dream; I’m here. But you should relax—”

“Are you mad at me? Do you—do you hate me?” Lyra asked, her voice wavering.

Once she was seated comfortably, Gallowglass sat back in the chair by her bed. The look of hurt and betrayal on her face tugged on his heart, but he made himself answer in a steady voice. “Of course not. I could never be mad at you, let alone hate—”

“Then why did you leave?” She couldn’t keep the pleading out of her voice, the need to understand. She had needed him most, and he wasn’t there.

“Because I—” he paused for a moment, gathering his courage to be truthful, “—I needed some time to think. I could never hate you, Lyra, but I hated myself.” When her face scrunched in confusion, he continued, “I wasn’t here to protect ya. I let ya get taken and I let ya get hurt.”

She reached out with her good hand, silently asking for his, and he gave it. Looking down at their clasped hands, she muttered, “I’m not mad at you, Eric. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“Yer a kind woman, my sweet flùr,” was all Gallowglass could muster.

They sat in comfortable silence for a long time, just holding each other’s hand and refamiliarizing themselves to the other’s company. But he could tell that there was something on her mind.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked softly.

Lyra tried a few times to start before stopping. Finally, she said, “I’m just so confused.”

“About what? Let’s start at the beginning….”

She shook her head. “How could someone be so cruel? He was hurting me, and he was enjoying it.” Her lip quivered, and she sounded on the verge of tears.

Interrogate her, or I will, Baldwin’s words rang in Gallowglass’s head. He was hoping that they could reconnect a bit before this talk happened, but he guessed now was as good a time as any.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what happened.”

So, she did. She told him everything she remembered: every question, every anecdote, every hit. It took a few hours to go through it all, and by the end of it, Lyra’s eyes were red-rimmed from sobbing, and Gallowglass wished Liam was alive just so he could hurt him, make him endure all the pain Lyra had to.

“How did he confuse you for Diana, though? Ya look nothing alike,” Gallowglass said at the end of her tale.

She shook her head, “I have no idea. He didn’t say.”

Gallowglass thought long and hard about it. It was possible that Liam didn’t have a lot of information—or at least current information—on Sept Tours. Maybe he knew that Diana’s aunts were there, and just looked for a witch who was alone? But if that was the case, then he must’ve not had orders from Benjamin; Benjamin had met Diana in the past and would surely be able to remember what she looked like. Either way, a small part of Gallowglass was glad that he wasn’t the reason Lyra was taken and tortured.

“How’d you know I was missing?” Lyra asked, pulling Gallowglass from his thoughts.

“Oh,” he replied, thinking back to when he knew. The talk with his papai, coming back to his rooms, the bouquet—the tulip, the tulip, the tulip. “I—I wanted to thank you for the bouquet….”

Lyra smiled softly. “Oh, you’re welcome.”

He wanted to ask about the tulip, about what it meant, but the words were stuck in his throat. Just ask her, ya idiot, he thought, kicking himself.

Lyra shifted on the bed with a yawn that turned into a wince and a hiss. Leaping on a chance to change the subject, he leaned forward, asking if she was alright.

“My shoulder hurts, that’s all,” she replied with a tired smile.

“Does sleep not help? Because you should be resting—that’s how yer gonna heal.”

She shook her head. “It hurts too much…and I have nightmares…with him.” She didn’t have to name Liam for Gallowglass to understand.

“Well, what about yer ointments? We’ve spent weeks making pain relief ointments—”

“Those are for the villagers back home!” Lyra said, appalled that he would suggest she use them for herself.

Gallowglass squeezed her hand. “Ya need them, too. We can always make more.”

She thought about this before nodding slowly. Standing, he went to her bag, digging around until he found the jar of ointment labelled “pain relief.” Then, he came back over to her.

Marcus had dressed her in a button-up shirt—something easily removed without moving the shoulder. With his cheeks tinted pink, Gallowglass undid the top few buttons. He tried not to stare at her freckled skin as more and more was revealed, and he swallowed when he saw the swell of her breasts.

Focus; she’s in pain, he told himself. Gently, he moved the strap of the sling holding her arm in place, along with her shirt to expose her broken shoulder. He took a sharp breath; her skin was a mottled mosaic of bruises. It honestly didn’t look like skin anymore, but a grotesque painting of nasty blues, purples, and greens.

“Tell me if I hurt ya,” he muttered, opening the jar. He got a little of the cream on his fore and middle fingers, then gently pressed them to her skin. He rubbed as softly as he could, and Lyra only spoke to give him directions.

Once her shoulder was sufficiently coated in the ointment, he closed the jar and pulled her shirt back on fully. He readjusted the sling until she was comfortable and buttoned the shirt back up.

“Better?” he asked once he sat back down after putting the jar back in her bag.

“It’ll take a few minutes to set in,” she explained. “I just wish it helped with the nightmares.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

She thought about it a moment before muttering, “hold me?”

Instantly he was up, shrugging out of his jacket and climbing into the bed next to her. He couldn’t wrap an arm around her without touching her hurt shoulder, so instead, he laced his fingers with hers and laid their hands in his lap.

The setting sun caught her hair, and it was as if her head was on fire. The brightness of the oranges and reds in her hair nearly blinded him, and he felt a fluttering in his chest as he was reminded of the single, red tulip in his room.

“Lyra…about my bouquet…I know the Sweet William and the lilac…but the tulip….”

She leaned more on him, her head resting on his shoulder. “My mother used to hold me like this, whenever I was scared or upset.”

Gallowglass waited, not wanting to break whatever thought process she was on. But as the seconds ticked by, he felt the urge to ask her again. Just as he opened his mouth, though, she continued.

“I love my parents, even though they’re gone. And I love the villagers back home. I love Marthe, too, and Marcus and Phoebe.” She paused again before finally looking up into Gallowglass’s eyes. “I don’t know what I feel for you—or at least, I don’t know how to describe it. It’s…it’s love, of that I’m sure, but it’s a different love than I feel for my parents or Marthe. It’s somehow…deeper? I want to know everything about you, Eric. I want to know who you are. I want…I want you, all of you.”

If Gallowglass was a lesser man, he would’ve kissed Lyra and never stopped. But he knew he had to take this slow, steady, careful. “There’re different types of love. But I feel the same way about you, Lyra.”

Her answering smile was almost as blinding as her hair in the setting sun. Again, the overpowering urge to kiss her presented itself, but he held back—it was too soon. She was in a fragile state of mind, and it would be wrong for him to take advantage.

“Sleep with me,” Lyra murmured, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think her request was suggestive.

“I need to stay awake so I can protect ya,” he replied with a soft smile.

She blinked sleepily at him. “When was the last time you’ve slept, Eric?”

He thought about it, “maybe a month ago?”

“You need to sleep!”

“You need it more, and I’ll watch over ya.”

Lyra snuggled closer to him. “I’ve never felt safer than I do right now, in your arms. I know I’m protected here. But if you don’t sleep, then neither will I,” she said stubbornly, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout. Then she let out a long yawn.

Gallowglass chuckled, “Ya wouldn’t last five minutes.”

“Please sleep?” she asked, giving him big doe eyes—her secret weapon.

He groaned; he couldn’t resist that face. “Fine, I’ll try—how’s that?”

“I’ll take it,” she muttered, eyes closing as she settled back against him. He smiled as he heard her breath and heart slow, signaling her descent into sleep. Her words repeated over and over in his head: how she felt about him, how she wanted him. Something deep inside him seemed to release—some muscle that was tense finally let go, and he felt more relaxed than ever before. And soon enough, he was asleep beside her.

[apinchofm]

Peregrinus Animus, Peregrinus Anima, Peregrinus Cor by TheModernTypewriter

The way I love this series so far! We start with Gallowglass when he is human and he meets the strangest girl who has been ripped from her own time he falls in love with. It's the story of the Goncalves de Clermont scion and it is beautiful and angsty and I just love it!

[plaidbooks]

Homegrown ch. 8

A/N: Sorry this update to so long to post! I had the chapter written for weeks, but I went back and changed a lot of it. But it’s here now, so please enjoy!

Also, I made another OC--one of Benjamin’s children.

Tags: kidnapping, injuries, talk of blood, minor character death (OC), vomit

Words: 1441

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @adowbaldwin

Lyra woke up groggy and disorientated. The last thing she remembered was being in the garden, clipping dead branches off the roses, when she felt the cold stare of a vampire and tasted the coppery tang of blood. Then, it all went black.

Now, glancing around with heavy eyes, she found herself in a plain room. The walls were made of stone, but were rough and jagged, rather than smoothed. Blinking rapidly to get rid of the blurriness, she only found four walls, a white, metal door, and a drain in the middle of the floor, rusty-colored stains around it. As she looked, the door swung inward, and a man—a vampire—she had never met stood in its entrance.

He had shaggy, black hair that fell around his face in loose curls. He was not a particularly big man, nor was his frame intimidating, but the cruelness in his eyes and smile made a shiver travel down Lyra’s back.

“Ah, it seems the drugs are finally wearing off,” he stated, more to himself than to her. His eyes flicked over her body before settling on her face. “How’re you feeling?”

Confused at what was happening and where she was, Lyra answered truthfully, “I feel groggy, unsteady.” Her tongue was heavy in her mouth, and she found it hard to speak, let alone think. Was this man here to help her?

The vampire nodded before moving swiftly towards her. She had no chance to stop him even if she wanted to before he wrapped a strong hand around her throat and pinned her to the wall behind her. She gasped in shock, having never been in imminent danger before.

“What makes you different? Why would Matthew throw everything into chaos for you?” the man asked, his breath hot on Lyra’s face.

“M—Matthew? Who’s Matthew?”

The man sneered, “you’re a terrible liar.”

Lyra had no idea what he was talking about, but she was uncomfortable with his hold on her. “Please, sir, let me go—I don’t know who you are or what you want—”

“How rude of me; I’m your grandson, Liam.”

Lyra furrowed her brow. “Grandson? I don’t have children—”

“But you must know Matthew does. I’m Benjamin’s son, hence making me Matthew’s grandson—and by extension, his mate’s grandson.”

“Mate? Matthew? What are you talking about—”

Liam pulled Lyra from the wall before slamming her back against it, hard. Stars exploded in her eyes, and she gasped in pain, her head rocking off the hard stone. With the drugs still in her system, her vision blurred more, and she felt nausea roiling inside her.

“I’m tired of your weak attempts to play stupid, Diana,” he sneered. “If I were you, I’d start talking—I’m not as cruel as my father. He’s coming in a few days, so I get to have my fun with you, first. If you tell me what I want to know, maybe he’ll simply kill you.”

Lyra’s head was spinning with pain and confusion, trying to wrap herself around what was happening—this man seemed to think she was Diana for some reason. Maybe if she simply explained that she wasn’t, he’d let her go. Right?

“My name is Lyra. I’m a witch from the forest, not Diana—”

“Do not play me for a fool!” Liam yelled in her face before throwing her like a ragdoll into another wall. Her left shoulder made a sickening crack, and she cried out in pain.

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

Gallowglass didn’t feel the wind on his face nor the ground underneath his feet. His mind was too distracted, thinking about who could’ve taken Lyra and why. But deep, deep down, he was terrified at what he’d find when they found her.

He missed Baldwin’s and Marcus’s discussion on where she could be, missed how they came up with a building in the middle of nowhere. He just heard the location and took off. He didn’t need to look back to know his uncle and cousin were hot on his heels.

The small, rational part of his mind knew that Lyra had only been gone a few hours. But the hardened, warrior side of him knew that anything could happen to her in that short amount of time. All he knew was that he needed to find her and now.

Only his long, long life could’ve braced him for when he made it to the building. Rather than rush in, stealth took over, and he snuck inside, careful not to make a noise. He crept into the foyer, then sniffed the air. A heavy scent—the one that matched the vampire intruder back at the chateau—permeated the space. But underneath all of that was the sharp tang of blood.

Gallowglass was just about to ask the others if they could tell where the scent was heavier when he heard it. A loud, high-pitched scream of pure pain slammed through him like a physical blow. Gallowglass would never know what happened next; his feet moved without his conscious thought. Down two flights of stairs, through a door, and he saw them.

The vampire with his back to the door, Lyra trembling in his grip, her sundress ripped and tears trailing down her face. But worst of all—the thing that made Gallowglass’s vision go red—was a fresh bite mark in the crook of her neck.

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

There was pain throughout her body. In fact, if Liam wasn’t holding her by the throat once more, she’d be crumpled on the ground. She was trembling from his last strike, sticky blood dripping down her body from the claw marks across her stomach. Her left arm hung uselessly, and she was unable to even curl her fingers.

“You bore me with your weakness, sniveling in fear. I don’t understand why my father is so obsessed with you,” Liam said with a scowl of disgust. “Maybe I should just drink from you, see your memories.”

“Pl—please—” Lyra begged, sobbing uncontrollably. She wasn’t even sure what she was begging for, just wanting—needing—to get away from this monster.

He sneered at her before, quick as lightening, he sunk his teeth into the right side of her neck. She screamed in pain, her throat going raw with the sound. Weakly, she pushed at him with her good arm, but there was no dislodging him.

Liam drank a few mouthfuls from her, almost humming with the taste. But when he leaned back to look at her, his eyes were wide with shock.

“You—you’re not Di—"

Suddenly, Liam let her go. An unfamiliar, male voice screamed, “NOOOOO!” as metal slammed against stone. Then, there was a loud snap followed by a thud as Lyra slid to the ground, scratching her back painfully against the wall. Once slumped on the ground, she opened her eyes to find Liam sprawled a few inches in front of her, his neck twisted almost 180 degrees. His unseeing eyes bore into hers, shock still on his features.

Lyra turned and vomited. She vaguely heard, “get him out of here,” in a familiar voice, and she struggled to stop retching.

“E—Eric?” she gasped, throat burning from the acid and her screaming. There was a rustle of clothes, and then Gallowglass was there, kneeling in front of her.

“Let me get ya home, my little flùr,” he said softly with a smile—though, his eyes radiated concern. He tried to help her up, but she was in too much pain to uncurl her body.

“It hurts,” she whined, fresh tears spilling down her face.

His expression softened, “I know, but we need to get ya home to patch ya up.”

Marcus appeared over Gallowglass’s shoulder. “Just knock her out, Gallow—”

But he was cut off by a deep growl from Gallowglass, something Lyra never heard from him before. Her fear must’ve shown on her face, because he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, mind working.

“Do you trust me, Lyra?” he asked, eyes scanning hers.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t need to think about it. “Yes.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up before he brought his thumb to his mouth. He bit into the pad of his thumb until there was a drop of blood.

“Taste my blood, and it’ll take away the pain…for a little bit,” he explained, holding his thumb out to her.

She trusted him so much, yet her stomach roiled at the thought of tasting blood. Even so, she swallowed the bile and stuck her tongue out, licking his blood. Before the nausea could take over, darkness took her.

[plaidbooks]

Homegrown

A/N: This is my first real foray into the ADOW fandom, specifically for Gallowglass, and I’m excited to post it! This is going to be multi-chaptered, and I base the character’s looks on the show version, rather than the books.

This is Gallowglass x Lyra (witch!OC)

Tags: none this chapter

Words: 1579

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart​ (I don’t wanna tag SVU peeps here--let me know if you’d like to be on my ADOW taglist!)

(facecanon for Lyra)

That’s the place, Lyra thought as she looked upon the castle in the distance. Her magic has never let her down before, so she steeled her nerves and made her way towards the place. Once she was less than a mile away, she felt the first pinprick of magic—outside her own—in the countryside; a coolness dancing across her face and body. There could only be one cause of this: a vampire was watching her. The people in the village were nice enough to mention (or warn) that the castle—known as Sept Tours—was on vampire ground, so she wasn’t surprised. But she wondered what her magic was trying to tell her, leading her here.

Find Diana, the wind whispered, and she nodded to herself; it was the only clue she had. Before she could make it much further, a young man appeared in front of her. He had short, wavy, black hair and a kind face. Though as his cool, vampire eyes looked over her, she could see he was trying to be intimidating, puffing his chest out and crossing his arms.

“Who are you?” he asked.

She tilted her head slightly. “It’s rude to ask without giving your name first,” she huffed. Normally, Lyra wasn’t so blunt, but the long trip and open air was making her restless. She thought about her little cottage in the forest, cut off from most the world, and wished she were home again; she felt exposed here.

The man clenched and unclenched his jaw, debating. “Marcus,” he finally said. “You?”

“Lyra,” she replied, and Marcus quirked an eyebrow.

“Sorry, miss, but this is my family’s land. No witches allowed.”

“But I’m looking for someone, and I believe her to be there,” she said, pointing to the castle behind him.

Marcus’s eyes narrowed at that, and she wondered what she had said wrong. “Who are you looking for, then?”

“A witch named Diana.” A breeze passed by Lyra’s head, carrying the word careful to her ear. But she ignored it; something about Marcus was trustworthy. “She’s fighting to make this world better for us creatures, right?”

Before Marcus could reply, two more cold sets of eyes were on her, making her shiver slightly. She glanced up at the castle, wondering where the vampires were watching from. Her warmblooded eyes couldn’t see that far.

“And how do I know you’re not working for Knox? Or Gerbert?” Marcus asked, gaining her attention once more.

Lyra blinked, “because I don’t know who Knox or Gerbert are.”

“You’re not a good liar,” he said with a sigh, as if bored with this conversation. “There’s no way you don’t know two people on the Congregation.”

“I don’t know anyone on the Congregation!” she spat back, hands shaking slightly. She remembered her mother talking about it once when she was a teenager, but that was so long ago.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Witches are near, the wind whispered, and she glanced at the castle again.

“If you don’t believe me,” she started, “then have the other witches there ask me. A witch cannot lie to another.”

Marcus took a step towards her. “How did you know there are witches here?”

“My magic told me. And you just confirmed it.” Lyra let her words sink in before continuing, “I promise I’m here to help, not cause trouble. I do not know who Knox or Gerbert are—I’m here because my magic called me to find Diana. I’m a friend, not a foe.”

He looked conflicted, thinking hard. Finally, he said, “you wait here, and I’ll talk to the head of the household.” She nodded and he was off, gone in a blur.

Lyra wasn’t sure what she would do if denied entry. Though she had never met Diana—had no idea who she was—her magic was insistent on getting them together. It had been months since the first whispers tried to pull her from the cottage. At first, Lyra ignored it, tending to her plants and animals, and making potions and ointments for the small village near her; her only connection to other people.

But her magic grew ever more destructive. Soon enough, fierce winds were whipping through the forest, as if trying to carry her off to wherever it wanted. The people and animals were being injured from the winds, and her crops were being destroyed. So, against her better judgement, Lyra made potions of healing, packed up her herbs and empty bottles, and the few clothes she could fit in her bag. With her meager amount of money, she left her cottage, heading where, she knew not, allowing her feet and magic to guide her.

And throughout all of this, she was plagued by visions in her dreams, visions of a woman—a powerful witch—dressed like the Goddess and saving the creature world. Lyra would wake with the name Diana on her lips, and hope blossoming in her chest. What this all meant, she wasn’t quite sure. All she knew was that she was heading in the right direction.

Marcus reappeared then, alone, and her heart dropped—he was surely going to deny her. But, to her surprise, he gestured with a soft, “come with me.” He turned back towards the castle, setting off at a quick pace, and she hurried to keep up. Her legs were exhausted, and she was starving, but she refused to complain as she tried to keep up with the man, who thankfully walked at a human speed.

“Thank you…for accepting me,” Lyra huffed out in between breaths.

Marcus glanced sidelong at her, before rolling his eyes and taking her bag, trying to lessen her burden. He slung it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing, and her bottles clinked together inside. “I have not accepted you, not yet. But my grandmother would like to meet you…as would the others.”

Lyra closed her eyes in weariness; how many people did she have to go through to be allowed here? How many questions and tests? She was sleep deprived and it had been over a day since her last meal. The last of her money had been used on water, but that had run out hours ago.

The walk was long and silent, outside of her heavy breathing. Lyra had been walking for weeks, and she was sure her legs were going to fall off with the next step. Or the next. Or the next. But still, she trudged on, one foot in front of the other. If she could only reach the castle…what? What was she expecting to happen? A group of vampires accepting her into their home? Unlikely.

Finally, Lyra and Marcus made it to the arch by the front of the building, the walls of the castle beyond looking so much more imposing up close. He wasn’t even winded, and she almost started crying from fatigue. Almost. But the appearance of two female vampires had her swallowing her exhaustion down.

“This is the witch?” one asked. She was obviously the matriarch of the castle; she was elegant, poised, and beautiful. Plus, she exuded a power that she should not be messed with.

The other vampire had short, curly grey hair and, like Marcus, had a kind face. But unlike Marcus, she didn’t try to hide her open concern for Lyra. In fact, she muttered, mouth barely moving, “she’s dead on her feet.”

That was the last thing Lyra knew before darkness overtook her.

Marcus caught her body before she could hit the ground, the bag on his shoulder clanking loudly. He lifted her easily, then glanced at his grandmother. But it was Marthe who spoke.

“Bring her inside and lay her in the bedroom down the west hall,” she ordered. Marcus looked back to Ysabeau for approval, and his grandmére nodded once, chin barely dipping. Instantly Marcus was moving, heading for the bedroom Marthe indicated. He laid Lyra on the bed and worked her shoes off before covering her with the sheets.

After getting his medical bag, he ran simple tests to confirm what he knew from her scent and heartbeat; she was dehydrated, starving, and exhausted. As the one in charge, he started making decisions on what to do with her. It didn’t take him too long to decide what to do; once Lyra awoke, she’d be fed and given water while Sarah and Emily interrogated her. Both witches had confirmed that witches could not lie to another, and with his superior nose and ears, he’d be able to tell if she was lying biologically. Though in his initial talk with her, he did not sense any lies, only exhaustion.

Marcus sighed, looking down at her dirty, sleeping form. He did not trust her—he couldn’t afford to trust strangers—but he also felt bad for her. She obviously had a rough trip to make it to Sept Tours; her accent was familiar, but it was not French, and he couldn’t pinpoint where she may have come from. Even if what she had said was all true, he wasn’t sure she’d be allowed to stay there until Diana and Matthew returned from the past. Hell, he wasn’t sure why she was so certain Diana was here when she’d been gone for weeks.

So many questions and no answers, not until she awoke. Marcus closed his eyes in frustration before turning to leave her room—he hated not having all the information.

[plaidbooks]

Homegrown chapter 4

A/N: The next few chapters are going to be just snippets of life at Sept Tours. So, enjoy these little looks into Lyra and Gallowglass coming together.

This also covers the “Can you warm me up? I’m cold” square in @adarafaelbarba bingo!

Tags: none

Words: 901

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @adowbaldwin

Summer was ending quickly, which meant the nights were getting colder. It had been warm when Lyra left her cottage, so she never thought to pack any warm clothing—she figured she’d talk to Diana then head home. But there had been no sign of her return, and Lyra’s sundresses and overalls did little to keep her warm.

The first frozen night, Lyra found herself shivering in her room. She remembered the massive fireplace that was in one of the main setting rooms within Sept Tours, and she climbed out of bed. Even the evening gown that Marthe had given her—soft, off-white, and billowy—didn’t block out the cool evening air.

She made her way to the room with the fireplace, arms wrapped around herself, only to find it sitting empty. No logs, no fire—just a cold, empty space.

“Lyra?”

She jumped, turning to look at the couch; she had been so focused on the fireplace that she didn’t even notice Gallowglass sitting there. His brow was furrowed as he looked at her, and she shivered under his cold gaze.

“C—can you warm me up-p-p? I’m co-co-cold,” she asked, teeth chattering.

As a vampire, Gallowglass had never had someone ask him to warm them before—usually the opposite. Nevertheless, he was off the couch in a moment. By the time Lyra waddled over to the couch, he was back, a heavy jacket, fuzzy blanket, and soft slippers in his hands.

He held the jacket open so she could slide it on, then wrapped her in the blanket. While she slipped her feet into the slippers, Gallowglass knelt by the fireplace. He put a few logs of wood inside, then lit it. The kindling caught quickly, and soon enough, a fire was blazing in the fireplace.

Gallowglass sat back on the couch by Lyra, but he knew his body was cold, so he kept space between them. “How’s that?” he asked softly.

The warmth was already seeping into her, and she snuggled deeper into the blanket. “Better.”

They sat in silence for a moment, just basking in the warmth entering the room, until Gallowglass’s back pocket pinged. He pulled out a little black rectangle and tapped it with his thumbs.

“What’s that?” Lyra asked from within the depths of fabric.

Gallowglass glanced from his rectangle to her eyes. “It’s a cell phone…I guess that means nothing to ya, huh?” When Lyra shook her head, he continued. “It’s a way to communicate instantly with anyone around the world. You could also use it to look up information, pictures, videos—”

“Is this some sort of witch’s tool? It sounds magical,” she breathed, eyes latched to the phone.

Gallowglass chuckled. “I think this is a daemon creation, actually, but almost everyone—creatures and humans alike—have one.”

“Wow.”

He motioned with his head. “Come here, I want to show ya something.”

Lyra squirmed her way over to him, leaning fully against his side. He touched the rectangle, and a plain blue background with the time showed up.

Gallowglass unlocked his phone, pulling up the internet and going to google images. He typed in “ocean,” then tilted the screen towards Lyra. She audibly gasped when she could see the pictures, her eyes widening. He scrolled through a few pictures, then changed to videos.

He found a 10 hour, calming beach noises video, complete with waves crashing on the beach, and clicked it. He handed the phone to Lyra, who held it like it was the most precious thing in the world. Her eyes were glued to the screen, unblinking, and he smiled at her childlike wonder.

“Don’t forget to blink…or breathe,” he chuckled, and she took a shuddering breath.

“It’s…beautiful….”

“It really is. Maybe one day, you can see it for real, touch the water with your hand and feel the sand underneath your feet.”

Finally, she ripped her eyes from the phone, looking at him. “I want to, Eric, so badly. Would you show it to me?”

His heart thudded in his chest. She was so sincere, wanting to experience that with him of all people. How could he ever say no?... As if he wanted to.

“If we figure all this stuff out with Diana and the Congregation, then I’ll happily take ya to the ocean. Hell, I’ll take ya out on one of my boats, let ya be surrounded by the ocean, as far as the eye can see,” he promised.

She smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek softly in thanks. Then she settled against him, looking at the phone. “Can we see forests? Or flowers?” she asked innocently.

But Gallowglass was frozen, head fuzzy. He could feel where her lips had touched his cheek, could feel the heat of her body against his. His throat constricted and expanded, words dying on his tongue before he could voice them.

“Eric? Are you okay?” Lyra asked, but she sounded so far away. “Eric?”

Finally, her voice calling his name broke through to him, and he started. “I’m sorry, did ya say something?”

“Oh, I was wondering if we could look at plants on your cell phone?”

“Right, yeah, sorry. Anything in particular?”

They spent hours there, scouring the internet for anything Lyra asked for. And if she didn’t fall asleep against him, he was sure they’d be up all night. But he found himself not minding that at all.

[plaidbooks]

Homegrown chapter 3

A/N: Gallowglass appears! And boy howdy, does he have a time meeting Lyra.

Tags: none

Words: 2618

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart​ @adowbaldwin​

Lyra had been at Sept Tours for a few weeks now, and she fell into an easy rhythm, like she belonged there naturally. The first day was all about unpacking her meager items—and Marthe taking all her clothes to clean; they were filthy from her walk. Lyra insisted on helping, and Marthe begrudgingly agreed. But the more time she spent with the vampire, the more they adored each other.

It took Lyra only another day before she was outside in a shirt and overalls (freshly cleaned), weeding the garden. Marthe tried to explain that she or another vampire could handle it, but Lyra refused to take no for an answer.

“My purpose is out in the garden, with nature…at least until Diana comes here,” she had explained. So, Marthe agreed to let her weed the expansive space, and Lyra reveled in it. The open space still made her feel exposed—compared to the trees she was normally surrounded by—but the garden slowly eased her nerves.

Lyra only asked once about Diana coming to the chateau and received a vague answer. But, instead of letting that get her down, she simply threw herself into the garden work. Besides, that was her main job and hobby at her cottage.

It took only a week since Lyra’s arrival before Marthe allowed her to till a small part of land. Lyra wanted specific herbs for her healing potions and ointments, some not found in the garden. Marthe tried to offer her some herbs from the vampire’s own supply, but Lyra declined, telling her that she had her own seeds and could perform a simple spell to make them grow.

Lyra wasn’t much of a spellcaster; all her magical talent went to potions and nature. The windwitch power in her veins gave her some control over breezes, but it wasn’t as strong as her mother’s power had been. The one thing Lyra had that her mother didn’t—and no other witch she knew—was that she could listen to the wind. It was often confusing and cryptic, but after years of little whispers, Lyra had learned to listen well, dissect what nature was telling her. Though, she was still confused on what she had to do with Diana.

Lyra’s potions and ointments were mostly for healing simple things: cuts, open wounds, burns, rashes. At first, they were for animals that limped to her cottage, ones that had been hurt by other animals, and ones that Lyra nursed back to health. But after her mother passed away, the village people came to her for medicinal purposes, so she had to adapt. She loved helping them all, though, helping them to heal; she felt like she was taking over her mother’s purpose.

Though Lyra still had a few potions and ointments in her bag, she wanted to restock. If there was to be a battle of some kind against this Congregation everyone kept talking about, then she wanted to make sure her new friends here were safe.

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

Marcus heard the motorcycle before anyone else did, and he smiled softly; his favorite cousin had finally made it (and he made a mental note to never tell Miyako that). He headed out the front door, making his way to the archway to greet him, and to give him an order.

The motorcycle stopped a few feet in front of him, and a leather-clad Gallowglass unmounted it. He grinned wickedly at Marcus before embracing him in a bear hug.

“Hey cuz,” the Gael said, releasing Marcus before he accidentally cracked his ribs from the force of his hug.

Marcus smiled up at him. “Hey Gallowglass…. I’m sorry to do this—”

“Ah, come on, I only just got here! And on French land, too!” Gallowglass grimaced; he still hated the French for killing his father.

“I know, I know. But I need you,” Marcus replied apologetically.

Gallowglass rolled his eyes dramatically. He honestly shouldn’t be surprised that he was summoned here early for an order. “Well? Out with it, then.”

“There’s this witch that came here a few weeks ago. Both Sarah and Em have questioned her and found her to not be a threat. But,” he pushed Gallowglass’s shoulder playfully, “I’d feel better having someone I can trust watching her. Warning, she’s a little, er, sheltered.”

“I come here for the first time in centuries, and you want me to babysit a witch?” Gallowglass asked. “You’re turning more into Grand-da every time I see you, and I’m starting to hate it.”

Marcus looked mock offended. “I’m not that bad…am I?”

“Not yet. But keep hanging around Matthew, and you will be.” He said it in jest, but like with most of Gallowglass’s jokes, there was a kernel of warning in it. “Okay, let me say hi to Granny, then show me to your witch.”

He followed Marcus through the front garden, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. It had been centuries since Gallowglass had stepped foot in France, let alone the home to all de Clermonts: Sept Tours. Though, to be fair, he had never thought of the chateau as home; Scotland, that was home. The ocean was also his home. His father’s favorite house had been one of Gallowglass’s homes once, but not anymore. Both him and his Papai, Fernando, don’t go there.

Athair, he thought, Hugh’s face flashing in his mind, and the name was bittersweet. It brought back such fondness and love, but also so much pain and heartbreak. Gallowglass missed his dad, always would. But being back here in Sept Tours reminded him of the day he learned his father was no more.

“Sorley,” a soft voice called, pulling him from his grim thoughts, and he couldn’t stop the smile from tilting his lips up. Only one person in the world called him by that name.

“Granny,” he greeted. He made his way to Ysabeau, enveloping her in a gentle hug and kissing her cheek. “Ya haven’t aged a day.”

She gave him a soft smile, one reserved for him; Ysabeau loved all her family, but the big Gael held a special place in her heart.

“I’m glad you came back, Sorley. I’ve missed that smile of yours.”

Gallowglass gladly gave her that smile she’d been missing; a genuine smile that made his eyes light up. “I’ve missed ya, too, Granny. One of the only things I’ve missed about this place…’sides Marthe, of course.”

“She’ll be happy to have your appetite back.”

They looked at each other for a moment, all the years they hadn’t seen each other disappearing in an instant. Then all too soon, she got down to business.

“I assume Marcus has told you of the mysterious witch?”

Gallowglass sighed; there was no more putting off his job. “He has. And he’s charged me with watching her.”

If Ysabeau ever rolled her eyes, this would be the moment. Instead, she looked over her grandson, picking her next words.

“She’s a strange one, but I don’t think she poses a threat. Not to us or our enemies. She’s too ignorant of the world around her,” she explained.

“Marcus mentioned she was sheltered—”

“Completely cut off from the world sums it up better. She claims her magic brought her here, but I have yet to figure out why.”

Gallowglass nodded, tucking that away for later—he’d see if he could figure it out through watching her. “And where is this sheltered witch?”

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

Lyra was on her knees, digging a trench in the soil with her bare hands. Marthe had offered her tools and gloves, but she declined, wanting to feel the earth beneath her fingers. She never felt more at home than when she was in nature, tending to plants, and the rich, fertile soil calmed her.

Two cold patches appeared on the back of her neck, and her hair stood on end. A vampire was watching her, but she didn’t recognize the feeling. Sighing, Lyra finished her trench before standing and dusting her hands off on her denim knees. She turned, and sure enough, there was a vampire stalking towards her.

He was tall, his frame massive and imposing. His beard was trimmed, but long enough to be unruly, much like his hair. He wore a black jacket, tshirt, and jeans. With a flick of her wrist, Lyra changed the breeze, having his scent come towards her. He smelt of mint and…salt mixed with something that reminded her of the wind. She breathed deep, letting his scent wash over her; it was oddly relaxing.

“So, you’re the new witch that showed up unannounced, eh?” he asked once he was close enough. He stopped a few feet in front of her, eyes scanning up and down. Lyra suddenly felt like a small rabbit being eyed by a wolf, and his height over her didn’t help. She could tell he was tall before, but now this close, she realized that he towered over her. He was a full head and shoulders taller than her, and she had to tilt her head back to see his face.

“Oh! Um, yeah…. Oh, let me introduce myself,” she said in a rush, trying to get her voice to stop shaking. “I’m Lyra.”

The vampire grinned, and she couldn’t tell if it was in politeness or mocking. “Name’s Gallowglass de Clermont. Do you not have a last name?”

“Last name...? I only have the one name. Why, how many do you have?”

He barked out a laugh, and it made her smile, relaxing slightly; something about the sound was nice. “I’ve got six: Eric Ragnall Brendan William Sorley de Clermont,” he listed, counting on his fingers, “but most call me Gallowglass, so you could say I have seven.” He couldn’t tell what compelled him to give her all his names, but it was too late now.

“Oh…well, I quite like the name Eric. May I call you that?” Lyra asked in a small, innocent voice. She craned her neck to look up at him, tilting her head back to see his face clearly, her eyes wide and pure.

“Yeah, Eric is just fine,” he replied. He felt a weird tugging in his stomach, but he ignored it.

Lyra smiled again and he returned it, expression softening. Their eyes seemed to be drawn to each other, and it was only when Gallowglass noticed they’d just been staring at each other that he tore his eyes from her. He glanced around, trying to find something to talk about, until he saw the trench at her feet.

“Can I ask why you’re digging in Marthe’s garden? I know she looks gentle, but she’ll kill ya faster than you can blink.”

“Marthe allowed me to plant herbs here,” Lyra blurted out defensively, crossing her arms. Then she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of Gallowglass’s scent—it was very soothing. “Sorry, I’m still a little frazzled from all the people here. Marthe let me till here so I could plant herbs for my potions.”

He let out a low whistle. “She did, did she? That’s surprising—Marthe never lets anyone touch her garden. Except Alain.”

Lyra had met Alain briefly, and enjoyed his presence, before he was whisked off on de Clermont business. “Well, she let me,” she said bluntly.

Suddenly, she was afraid that this man was jealous of her acceptance into the garden. She had no idea how to deal with a jealous vampire. So, she decided to change the subject.

“You smell like salt and the wind,” Lyra said, and he chuckled, a little stunned at the abrupt change. “But there’s something else there, too, and I don’t know what it is.”

“Well,” he started, pretending to think about it, “many people tell me I smell like the sea.”

Lyra tilted her head slightly. “The c? Like…the letter?”

That made him throw his head back with a laugh. “No, like the ocean.”

“Oh…shaaan?” she asked, dragging the ‘a’ out.

“…do you not know what the ocean is? Huge body of water? Humans believe it’s infested with sharks?”

She blinked; she had never heard of such a thing before. “What’s a shark?”

Gallowglass gave her a look, obviously trying to figure out if she was joking with him. “Hm, Marcus mentioned you were sheltered growing up, but I didn’t think you were this sheltered.”

“I guess I…just never knew there was more outside of my forest…” Lyra trailed off, looking down at her feet. She had never been embarrassed about her lack of knowledge before; in fact, before she left her cottage, she thought herself very knowledgeable.

Gallowglass came up to her then, taking her hand. It was almost comical how his big hand swallowed hers. “Come; I want to show you something.” He pulled her towards the castle, and Lyra sadly looked back to her seeds, waiting to be planted.

He directed her through the kitchen, up a flight of stairs, and into what looked like an office. Books lined two of the walls, and an ornate desk sat on the opposite side of the room. But Gallowglass didn’t pause to look around, pulling her towards the desk and only stopping once in front of a mostly blue, circular…thing. He gestured to it, and Lyra raised an eyebrow in confusion, looking up at him for guidance.

“It’s a globe,” he explained. “You’ve heard of the Earth, right?”

“I know of the earth beneath our feet, the earth that grows our food and that we’ll all return to one day…some maybe sooner than others,” she added on, thinking about how vampires live “forever.”

Gallowglass smiled at her add on. “Nice save.” He returned his gaze to the globe. “But this is the planet we live on. It’s 70% water—look at all the blue compared to the land.”

Lyra stepped closer, inspecting the globe. So much of it was blue, and the land looked so small in comparison. It was hard to believe his words, though—the only water she had seen was rain, or the water she used to cook and clean.

“So much water…is it really blue? The water I know is clear,” she asked, eyes still on the globe.

She missed his answering smile. “It is—the ocean reflects the sky. It’s blue when the sky is and turns grey and black with clouds and nightfall.”

“It sounds beautiful…and scary….”

Finally, Lyra looked at him, and Gallowglass’s expression softened. “It can be. But it’s also freeing. I love sailing on the open water.”

There was a moment where they simply stood, looking at each other. A million questions swirled through her mind, and so far, he seemed like the only creature who didn’t mind her endless questions. But the thought of Lyra’s seeds baking in the sun came back to her mind, and she wanted to plant them.

“Thank you for showing me this, Eric. Maybe one day, I can see the ocean.” She gave him a smile, and he returned it unconsciously.

Without further discussion, she turned and headed back the way she came. With her back turned, though, she missed how Gallowglass tilted his head up, taking in her scent. She smelt of aster and cornflower, and it was utterly intoxicating. He had to physically stop himself from going after her, and he vaguely wondered if being tasked to follow her was a blessing or a curse.

That weird tugging in his stomach came back, only this time, he realized it wasn’t in his stomach. No, it was slightly above it, more in his…chest.

Yes, maybe one day, she’ll see the ocean. And maybe Gallowglass will be the one to show it to her.

[plaidbooks]

Homegrown Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry this took a bit to edit; I started my Master’s courses, and that’s my focus right now. But with this chapter, we’re back to the main plot of the story! This is mostly from Gallowglass’s point of view, and I’ve made up a few things for him since we don’t have a lot on him and Fernando.

Also, time travel is weird. At this point in the story, Diana and Matthew (in the past) have just gotten married. I have this point as the ripple effect that had Phillipe assign Gallowglass to Diana when she was born. That being said, this means GG has feelings for Diana at this point.

Tags: none

Words: 1995

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @adowbaldwin

The gladiolus were just opening, the bottom blossoms showing a deep purple, petals still wrapped tightly. Lyra put her (Marthe’s) little basket down, examining the flowers and trying to debate just how much magic she should use to open the flowers a little more. A familiar coolness brushed across her face, and she smiled.

“Hello, Eric,” she said aloud, gaze still on the flowers. The vampire had been hovering around her for the past few months now, and his presence was refreshing.

He came up to her side at his own pace; he never hurried with anything. “Hey yourself. What’re you up to today?” It was a common question, one he asked every day. Sometimes, when Lyra was working in the garden, he’d join her, helping her and talking.

“Picking flowers. I want to make bouquets for the chateau’s residents,” she explained. “Doesn’t this gladiolus just remind you of Ysabeau? She’s elegant, strong, beautiful…but sad. The gladiolus is also known as the sword and used to signify a hurting or broken heart.”

Lyra felt Gallowglass’s eyes back on the side of her face, and she turned to look into his eyes. He scanned her face, wondering how she knew so much about his Granny’s heart, before smiling. “I think Granny would love that. But bouquets?”

“The chateau is beautiful, sure, but it’s just so…boring inside.”

Out of all the words Gallowglass used for Sept Tours, “boring” was not one of them. His confusion showed on his face, his brow pinched.

“There’s no nature inside—all the plants are fake: marble, tapestries, paintings. But no thriving greenery,” Lyra clarified.

“And bouquets are thriving greenery?” he teased with a grin.

She sighed, rolling her eyes and pushing his shoulder playfully. “No, but it’s better than nothing!”

With that, she turned back to the gladiolus. With a few soft words and a flutter of her fingers, the blossoms opened more—the bottom two flowers were fully open with the rest unfurling more than before. Gallowglass watched with interest at the transformation, eyes wide with fascination.

“There we are,” Lyra muttered, taking her—Marthe’s—clippers and snipping the stem. She placed the flowers in her basket, but before she could grab the wicker handle, the basket was snatched off the ground with inhuman speed.

Lyra turned to look at Gallowglass, a grin on his lips and his eyes lit up with mischief. “Allow me, ma’am,” he said, bowing in front of her.

She raised an eyebrow, not understanding his mannerisms, but she smiled at him all the same. Plus, she enjoyed his company. He dutifully followed her to every flower she picked out, and he asked who each flower was for and why. Lyra explained what each flower was called, what they symbolized, and, if applicable, what kinds of potions and ointments the petals or leaves could be used for.

Gallowglass hung on every word, committing as much as he could to memory. And when she was focused on speeding along a flower’s growth, she missed the look of adoration he gave her.

********

“Papai,” Gallowglass greeted Fernando as he opened his door, giving him a monstrous hug. They clapped each other on the back, both men shoving down their feelings on the missing member of their family. Gallowglass loved Fernando like a father, just as Fernando counted Gallowglass as his own son, but seeing each other always brought back the fact that Hugh was gone.

Fernando leaned back, holding Gallowglass’s shoulders as he scanned his face. Fernando’s gaze was keen, and Gallowglass could never hide anything from him.

Finally, his father let him go, sighing. “Still having witch troubles?” he asked, turning and heading into the house. Of course, Fernando was able to tell Gallowglass had feelings for Diana—and how could he have avoided that? She was brilliant, strong-willed, beautiful. But she was Matthew’s. Not only that, but in the past few months, Gallowglass had forgotten about his Aunty and his wayward affections completely.

“How did you—yeah, I am,” Gallowglass replied, a little taken aback. He didn’t know he was so easy to read. He followed his father into the main sitting room and took a seat on the couch by him.

Fernando gave him a stern look. “Do. Not. Let. Matthew. Know,” he warned.

Gallowglass blinked but connected the dots. “No, this isn’t about Diana.” Fernando looked skeptical, so Gallowglass added, “you know that witch at Sept Tours? The one that came from nowhere?”

His papai rolled his eyes. “What is it with you and the witches you’re charged to watch?”

He winced slightly. “I don’t want this, either! But…there’s something about her. I’ve even…I forgot Aunty completely. It’s like my very being is calling for her, being pulled towards her.” Gallowglass shook his head; he wasn’t making any sense.

Yet Fernando didn’t look confused. Instead, he gave his son an appraising look. “How does she feel?”

“I don’t know…. She lived secluded in a forest all her life, never even heard of the ocean. I don’t know if she has the same feelings as other people—”

“You must tread carefully, understand? You do not want to scare her away or hurt her.”

The very thought made Gallowglass growl loud in his throat; a warning. He stopped, looking surprised by his own lack of self-control. “Sorry, I—”

“I understand. She’s your mate, whether she knows it or not.”

Gallowglass sputtered. His mate? No—that couldn’t be; other’s had mates, not him. In his incredibly long life, almost every single vampire he has known has mated. But not him, never him. He actually stopped believing that he would ever find a mate centuries ago. Not that he was too upset about that; after what he saw Fernando go through at the death of Hugh, Gallowglass didn’t think he could survive that.

But the way the word settled in his mind, his heart, it felt right. Is Lyra really my mate?

How the hell would he even go about telling her that? He wasn’t even sure she knew what marriage was, or even what a kiss was. How would she deal with this?

The panic must’ve shown on his face, because Fernando gave his shoulder a little shake. “Stop thinking about it; you’re overthinking.”

“I—but—she—Lyra can’t be my mate,” Gallowglass asserted, albeit desperately. She just couldn’t be.

But Fernando just gave him a knowing smile. “I know all about, ah, difficult matings.”

Gallowglass honestly couldn’t imagine the struggle his fathers must’ve gone through, being in a gay relationship that long ago. But this was different.

“It’s not about the taboo of a witch and a vampire,” he started—he honestly didn’t care about that at all. “She’s very sheltered. I’m not sure if she knows what a kiss is, let alone mating—and I refuse to mate with her without telling her all it entails.”

Fernando considered that for a moment, thinking hard. “Well, why don’t you show her? Guide her through it?”

Gallowglass groaned. “And how do I bring that up with her? ‘Hey, I know we only met a few months ago, but why not be bonded to me for the rest of your life?’”

“Not like that,” Fernando said, rolling his eyes. Sometimes, his son was dramatic. “Start by telling her how you feel, then work from there.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

*********

The conversation with his papai was not at all what he expected. Lyra was his mate. What the hell was he supposed to do with that information?

You might as well tell her, Fernando had said, the feeling in your soul will never go away.

But how would he tell her? He didn’t want to go right in for a kiss—that could end poorly. No, talking about his feelings would be the best start. He didn’t know how to start that conversation, though.

But it was getting late, and he figured he could talk to Lyra in the morning. Mind still distracted, he made it back to the chateau, then retired to his room. He wouldn’t sleep, of course, but he could at least plot his next course of action.

Purple caught his eye, and he glanced to the dresser in his room. On top was an ornate vase overflowing with flowers. Gallowglass recognized the lilac and the Sweet William, but the single, red tulip in the middle caught his eye. What was it that Lyra had said about tulips?

Pulling out his phone, he quickly looked up what the flowers meant. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that lilacs meant first love—but they also meant remembrance. Maybe she was showing him that her memories with him were some of her favorites?

Sweet William, he remembered. It meant gallantry—she thought him gallant, which made him smile.

But it was a single tulip that made him freeze. I declare my love for you. The definition swam in his head over and over. I declare my love for you. Is that why she chose red? Is that why she added the lilacs?

I declare my love for you.

Instantly, he was out of his room, heading for Lyra’s bedroom. In his haste, he moved at vampiric speed. But her room was empty, and her smell faint, as if she hasn’t been around all day. Glancing at his watch, he noticed it was almost midnight—she was normally in bed by now.

It took him only a few moments to go through the entire chateau, but there was no sign of Lyra. In a fit of desperation, he went into the garden—her favorite place in all of Sept Tours.

Gallowglass sniffed the air, catching her flowery smell, but there was another sent underneath that. One he didn’t recognize. A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he followed the scent. It was definitely another vampire, but who? And how did he get on the property with no one noticing?

Another growl, louder this time, crawled out of his throat, and his blood went cold in rage. Who the fuck had his mate? Whoever it was would die by his hand—he’d make sure to rip his damn head off—

“Gallowglass? What’s happening?” a familiar voice asked from behind him.

It took all his strength to turn slowly, trying to relax as he looked at Marthe and Ysabeau. “Who was here? Who took her?”

Marthe blinked in confusion, but Ysabeau answered, “I do not recognize that scent. But they must’ve known when to strike; Marcus is gone at a meeting with Baldwin, and Marthe and I were just visiting in the town.”

“Are ya telling me no one was here to protect her?!” Try as he might, he couldn’t stop his anger, and he yelled the latter half of the sentence.

Marcus appeared then, with Baldwin standing behind him. “Gallowglass, what—”

Quick as lightening, Gallowglass rushed Marcus, but the ever-faster Baldwin caught him in a headlock, holding him back from the smaller man.

“You left Lyra alone?!” Gallowglass hissed between his teeth, reaching to strangle his cousin.

“Why? What hap—” Marcus stopped talking as he sniffed the air, catching the other’s scent. “Oh—oh God, I’m so sorry, Gal—”

“Sorry?! I’ll make ya sorry—”

“Cut it out, runt,” Baldwin said, tightening his hold on Gallowglass’s neck.

Marcus raised his hands in defense. “We’ll find her, Gallowglass. I promise you.”

But Gallowglass was still frothing, pissed off, and Baldwin thanked the Gods that he didn’t have bloodrage.

“Sorley,” Ysabeau’s voice cut through the commotion, and Gallowglass felt himself relax slightly, “we shall find Lyra, and punish whoever took her.”

He looked in his grandmother’s eyes for a long time before he sagged in his uncle’s arms. Baldwin released him, and Gallowglass grunted out a thanks.

“We’ll find her alright, but if she’s injured, I can’t be held responsible for what I’m gonna do to the bastard that took her.”

[plaidbooks]

Homegrown chapter 6

A/N: The last of the snapshot chapters before getting back to the main plot. Also covers the Dancing in the Rain square in @adarafaelbarba bingo!

Tags: none (besides some talks of different Gods)

Words: 1295

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @adowbaldwin

Gallowglass was glad that he was dismounting from his motorcycle as the rain started. He had been out on business for Marcus and the Knights, and though he normally didn’t mind the rain, he had found that heavy rainfall ruined his leather jackets. With his long legs, he made it inside the chateau just before it started pouring.

He took off his jacket, hanging it on a hook inside the front door before shaking his head like a dog. He smoothed his dripping hair back with one hand—mostly to get it out of his eyes—then headed deeper inside.

Ysabeau was sitting on a couch with Marthe, sharing a cup of tea. His grandma turned and smiled at him; a silent welcome back.

“Hey Granny,” he muttered, dipping to kiss her cheek, and trying not to drip on her. “Have ya seen Lyra?” Normally, he was around her, either talking and/or helping her in the garden, or just watching from a distance. But, as Ysabeau and Marcus predicted, she didn’t pose a threat.

“I’m not sure—I haven’t seen her since the rain started,” Ysabeau replied before glancing at Marthe, who simply shrugged one shoulder.

At first, Gallowglass wasn’t worried, but as he went throughout the chateau without a single whiff of the witch, he started getting nervous. Thinking there might be a clue in the garden, he grabbed a jacket—a big, warm one, not leather—and an umbrella. But he stopped at the doorway outside.

Lyra was near the rose bushes. Her normally bright-green sundress was muddled with water, clinging to her drenched body. Her red hair, normally tied up in a messy bun, was hanging down past her shoulders, plastered to her torso and face.

Gallowglass watched, entranced, as she moved. Her body was almost as fluid as the water as she danced. She would raise her arms to the sky, turning so fast that her hair and dress fanned around her before slapping wetly against her again.

“She’ll catch her death in this storm,” Marthe muttered, and Gallowglass jumped slightly; how did he not notice her approach?

Mentally shaking his distracted mind, he opened the umbrella and headed outside. He stopped a few paces from Lyra, but if she noticed him, she didn’t acknowledge him.

“Lyra, you should come inside before you get sick,” he called over the pounding of the rain.

“Can’t,” she replied.

“And why not?”

“Dancing in thanks to Freyr for the rain.”

Gallowglass blinked; it had been a long time since he’s heard mention of the old Gods. But he shook off his surprise. “Lyra, it is pouring rain and you’re in a sundress that barely reaches your knees.”

She spun, and when she faced him, she had a wicked grin on her face. “So?”

He huffed; for someone so openly curious and childlike, she could be very stubborn in her ways. But she also unlocked something within him, and he had infinite patience when it came to her.

“So,” he started, “I don’t want ya getting sick. Think about it; you’ll be stuck in bed, unable to play in the garden until you’re well again.”

It was Lyra’s turn to huff in annoyance; taking her away from the garden was like severing a limb. “I’ll just make a potion—”

“Please, Lyra. I can see the goosebumps on your arms, see how you’re shivering.”

She weighed her options, body still moving. “My dance is almost complete, then I will come in.”

If she thought he’d go inside to wait, she was dead wrong; Gallowglass just stood underneath the umbrella, waiting for her to finish. Finally, with one last prayer of thanks sent to Freyr, Lyra stood still. She was panting slightly, even though she was freezing.

Gallowglass wordlessly handed her the umbrella, and once she took it, he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, uncaring how wet it got. Then he took the umbrella back, wrapped a strong, protective arm around her shoulders, and guided her inside.

Once within the warm chateau, the shaking started. Marthe was there before Gallowglass could collapse the umbrella, pushing a steaming mug of tea into Lyra’s hands.

“Thank you,” she muttered before Gallowglass whisked her down the hall towards a bathroom.

Lyra took a sip of the tea, almost moaning as she felt the warmth go down her throat, warming her from the inside.

Gallowglass left her side, heading for the tub and turning knobs until he was satisfied with the heat of the water.

“I do not need to bathe—” Lyra started before he cut her off.

“You’re gonna sit in the water and warm up.”

She blinked. “I am?”

“You are. At least until you stop shivering.”

She glanced at the steaming water then back to him. “I normally bathe with a cloth—”

“I know,” he said with a sigh, “Marthe told me. But you’re not bathing; you’re warming up before ya get sick.”

That made sense to her, so she started to pull her sopping, dripping dress from her body. Gallowglass’s eyes went wide, his cheeks a bright red before he turned away from her.

“What’re ya doing?!” he asked, flustered.

Lyra was curious about his change in mood, and she let the dress fall to the tiled floor in a loud, wet slop. “Getting in the bath? Or was I supposed to stay in my clothes to do that?”

“Well, no, but I thought you’d wait until I was at least outta the room,” he muttered; with his back to her, she could barely hear him.

She tilted her head. “Does it matter?” When he didn’t immediately answer, she walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm. “Is something wrong, Eric?”

He glanced over his shoulder, finding her in nothing but her undergarments, and he quickly averted his eyes. “I—I guess ya wouldn’t know about nudity as a taboo….”

“A taboo?”

“Never mind. Just—just strip and get in the bath.”

Still slightly confused, Lyra finished undressing, then climbed carefully into the bath. She let out a hiss as the hot water connected with her frozen, wet skin. As she sank into the tub, she moaned in content.

“It’s getting’ late,” Gallowglass mentioned, finally turning to face her, his eyes looking everywhere but the tub. “Have ya had dinner?”

“Hmm…” she hummed, thinking. When was the last time she ate? “I guess not?”

He sighed, slightly frustrated. “We’ve talked about this before, Lyra; ya need ta eat throughout the day. Gods know we have the food.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I was working in the garden when I sensed the impending storm, and then I got distracted with the ritual dance,” she replied, a little sheepish.

“Okay…. How about you soak—get that chill outta your bones—and I’ll bring you your nightgown. I’ll have Marthe serve ya in bed,” he offered.

Lyra smiled; he was so sweet to her. “Only on one condition; you come with fruits, not Marthe.”

Gallowglass blinked. “Why not Marthe?”

“Because I want to talk to you, Eric,” she replied with a bright smile. “You didn’t question me about the dance or Freyr—”

“Well, that’s because I know who Freyr is.”

Finally, he made eye contact with her, ignoring that she was naked.

“I find that interesting—Marcus and Phoebe were trying to tell me about a God named God, and I was just getting so confused—”

Gallowglass chuckled; he didn’t know much about other Gods outside of the old Norse ones, but he knew enough about Christianity because of Matthew.

“Deal. You soak, and I’ll get everything else ready for you tonight,” he agreed, and Lyra grinned. She was looking forward to spending all night with him, talking about everything.

[plaidbooks]

Homegrown chapter 2

A/N: Here’s chapter two! It’s still just setting the story--Gallowglass will be here next chapter, I promise!

Tags: none

Words: 1454

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart

Lyra awoke on a soft mattress, linen sheets drawn to her chin. It took her eyes a few minutes to adjust, and when they did, she gasped. The room she was in was huge, with elegant furniture and gorgeous curtains hanging over the windows. This single bedroom was bigger than her whole cottage, and she knew she was within the castle walls.

The door opened then, and she tensed, trying to get her groggy mind to focus. The same, kind-looking vampire from before entered with a steaming mug. Lyra quickly sat up and the woman handed her the mug. It was warm and the drink smelt amazing—there were floral tones in it, she found.

“Some tea; it should help ready your stomach for food,” she explained.

Lyra took a sip, and though it was hot, it was delicious. “Thank you…. What is your name?” She waited a beat, then blurted out her own name, along with, “sorry, that was rude.”

The vampire smiled softly at her. “Marthe. Drink some more tea, then come to the kitchen to eat.”

Lyra nodded, taking another sip of the “tea”—it never occurred to her to be cautious of a strange drink given to her by a vampire; she seemed so trustworthy. Soon enough, Lyra finished the drink and gave Marthe the empty mug. Then Lyra stood on shaky legs and followed the woman to the kitchen.

“What did you want to eat? Eggs, sausage, bacon—”

“Eggs?! Like…animal eggs?!” Lyra exclaimed, suddenly feeling nauseous.

Marthe’s eyes scanned her face, giving her a sniff. “Fruits and vegetables, then.”

Lyra swallowed down the bile rising in her throat; she knew that she grew up isolated, but what else did she not know about this world? A world in which people ate animals and their offspring?!

Hopefully, I can meet with Diana, then get the hell out of here and back to my secluded forest, she thought.

Lyra entered the dining room—also much bigger than her cottage—and froze. Marcus and the matriarch vampire were at the table, as well as two witches and a daemon. Marthe continued into the kitchen, and the head vampire gestured for Lyra to sit next to her—she’d be sandwiched between the matriarch and Marcus, across from the witches and daemon. She sat nervously, eyes flicking between the four unknown creatures.

“I, uh, hi. My—my name is Lyra…” she started. Then, she cast her eyes downward in fear, waiting for the four to rip her apart.

It was silent before one of the witches replied, “I’m Emily, this is my partner, Sarah. The head of the house is Ysabeau, and the daemon here is Nathaniel. I believe you’ve met Marcus.”

Lyra nodded, glancing at them in turn, trying to commit all their names to memory; she wasn’t used to seeing this many people at once, let alone talking to them all.

“Where are you from?” the witch named Sarah asked. Emily gave her a look but said nothing.

“Um…the forest,” Lyra replied.

Sarah let out a sound of annoyance. “Which forest? What country?”

“I, oh, um…country?”

“You do know what country you’re from, don’t you? Or at least what town?”

Lyra gathered all the courage she had—they were asking questions to see if she was lying. She’d have to tell them her story, she realized: the visions in her dreams, her insistent magic, all of it. “I was born in a cottage in the forest, and that’s where I lived until I left to find a witch named Diana.”

It took Lyra upwards of an hour to tell the assembled creatures her story, what with all the questions Sarah and Marcus asked. Thankfully, Marthe set an array of fresh fruits and vegetables in front of her; some she knew, others she didn’t but ate anyways—she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Marthe also brought cold water, and Lyra drank her fill.

Even after she fell silent, the questions continued. Sarah seemed the most suspicious, not believing that Lyra didn’t know where she hailed from, even though Sarah could tell she wasn’t lying. Eventually, though, they finally ran out of questions, and Marthe ushered Lyra out of the room while they discussed her fate. She had Lyra follow her to an expansive bathroom, where her bag had been placed.

“Get yourself clean—you’ll feel refreshed afterwards—and dress. By then, we should know what to do with you,” Marthe said. Her tone was light, motherly, but Lyra still didn’t like that her fate was out of her hands.

Marthe left after that, and Lyra gazed into the gigantic mirror. She was filthy—well, filthier than normal—and her sundress was ruined with tears and holes. It’s been a long journey, she thought, and being clean again will be nice.

She turned, looking around the bathroom until her eyes fell on the giant, bronzed tub in the middle of the room. Unsure of what to do, she played with the knobs until water came out of the spigot. It was burning hot, and she yelped as she touched it. Marthe was instantly by her side again, and Lyra explained what happened with the water.

Again, Marthe’s eyes scanned her face, but she said nothing as she turned another knob. When she had Lyra touch the water this time, it was lukewarm. She stared in fascination at the knobs, wondering how cold the water could become.

“Do you have a cloth in which to wash with?” Lyra finally asked. She only noticed a large towel and a new sundress that seemed her size folded on the counter.

“It’s a bathtub, dear. You strip your clothes and sit in it, then wash with the soap.”

Marthe must be trying to trick her, right? “You sit in dirty water instead of dipping a cloth and washing yourself with clean water?”

The woman smiled softly. “That’s how warmbloods bathe, yes.”

Lyra looked at her as if she grew a second head. “…I’ll stick with the cloth, thanks.”

Instead of arguing, Marthe went to a cabinet and found a washcloth for her, along with soap that smelt of lavender. With another soft, yet concerned, smile, she left the bathroom, leaving Lyra alone once again.

She gently stripped out of her filthy dress, then dipped the washcloth into the water.

****

“We can’t just let some random witch join us,” Sarah exclaimed angrily.

Marcus sighed; this wasn’t the first time Sarah had said that since Lyra left with Marthe. “But both you and Em said she didn’t lie at all.”

“She didn’t,” Emily replied, cutting off whatever remark Sarah was about to make. “I do believe she’s genuinely here to help us—or at least Diana.”

“But how she knew to come here, when Diana was here months ago, is still a mystery,” Ysabeau commented. She had been silent while the rest of the creatures had questioned the witch, and now argued.

Marcus turned to Nathaniel, wanting to hear from all involved. The daemon caught his eye, then shrugged. “I’ve learned with Sophie just how odd magic can be. If she said her magic led her here, and both Sarah and Em say she’s not lying, then I believe her.”

“Truthful or not, can we really just let whoever waltz in here? Matthew made it sound more…protected than that,” Sarah asserted.

Marcus dipped his head towards her, acknowledging that she had a good point. But on the other hand, they were going to need all the help they could get to deal with the Congregation. Plus, the Knights of Lazarus—of which Marcus was now Grandmaster—was sworn to protect those who needed it. And this mysterious witch who seemed to know nothing of the world definitely needed help.

In times of tough decisions, Marcus did what his heart said. Slowly, he turned to Phoebe; his lover and his mate—who he had made sure was safely hidden in his bedroom during the questioning. She was already looking at him, as if knowing he’d turn to her. She gave him a warm smile, one that melted his heart.

“If you really want the Knights to make a difference, then having more creatures backing you is helpful,” she said matter-of-factly.

Marcus smiled back at her; god, he loved her. “You’re right; all of you are. The witch will stay and help, as she wishes. Sarah and Em can question her as much as they need to make sure she’s not here for any ulterior motives. And we tell no one outside of the chateau about her; if she doesn’t know who the Congregation is, there’s a good chance they don’t know her, either. She can be a surprise.”

[plaidbooks]

Homegrown chapter 5

A/N: Another snapshot of these two, and it covers Stargazing in @adarafaelbarba trick or treat bingo!

Tags: none

Words: 1028

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @adowbaldwin

Lyra stretched her arms above her head as she rolled out of bed. She then went to the bathroom, starting her morning routine. Glancing in the mirror, she smiled affectionately at her mess of hair. The red strands dangling down her back in a thick tangle was impossible to brush…for a human.

Muttering a soft spell, Lyra focused her magic on her unruly locks. She felt her hair untangle, slithering like snakes until it hung limp. With practiced hands, she took the soft hair and braided it before wrapping it up into a bun and fastening it there. Lyra adored her hair, but it often got in the way, so she normally wore it up in the day, only taking it down to wash and sleep.

Her plan for the day was harvesting and watering in the garden—no need to wear her overalls. Instead, she pulled on a sunflower-yellow sundress. She smiled in the mirror as she twisted this way and that, letting the fabric swing around her hips. Giggling softly to herself, Lyra plucked her (Marthe’s) basket off the floor by her door, then headed down to the kitchen.

Unsurprisingly, Marthe was up and moving, even early in the morning. She must have heard Lyra get up, because the tea Marthe made for her daily was on the table, still steaming.

“Thank you, Marthe!” she called out, happily taking a sip. It didn’t matter where she was; Lyra knew she heard her.

“Yer up early,” a voice said from the doorway to the garden, and Lyra grinned.

“Morning, Eric,” she replied with a smile. She was a little shocked that someone like him was up this early; he seemed like a heavy sleeper. “Did you sleep well?”

He raised an eyebrow as he came fully into the kitchen, dwarfing her easily. “Did ya forget I’m a vampire, sweetheart?”

When she only gave him a confused look, he huffed out a chuckle; he was getting used to explaining things to her. “Vampires don’t sleep as often as warmbloods do.”

“Oh…how often do you sleep, then?” Lyra asked, curious—she always was, especially with him.

He took a moment to think, adding it up. “Once every other week? Maybe less if I’m busy.”

“Woooow,” she said in awe, entranced by this man and his life. “What do you do all night, then?” In a small voice, she added, almost to herself, “I could get so much gardening done.”

Gallowglass chuckled, shaking his head in the way Lyra adored, his shaggy hair bouncing. “Family business mostly. But sometimes, I read, or plot the next sailing trip I wanna take. Sometimes, I even just go somewhere quiet, watch the stars appear, then disappear in the morning.”

He was so soft when he said that last part, and she was struck with a yearning to see him like that, just soft and vulnerable—something that seemed rare with him.

“That sounds…magical,” Lyra muttered, eyes sparkling.

He smiled down at her. “Stay up with me tonight, and I’ll show ya the stars.”

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

Lyra spent her day in the garden, Gallowglass by her side, just chatting. And, as promised, he took her to the tallest tower in Sept Tours that evening. He explained that it was Matthew’s room, but since he was gone, they could be there.

He laid a blanket on the ground—normally, Gallowglass didn’t mind the cold, but he didn’t want Lyra to freeze in her summer dress, sitting on cold stone—then helped her sit. He sat next to her, head craned back to look at the sky. It was autumn, so the evening was still comfortable, but the cold winter breezes were starting to creep in.

Only the first stars were starting to appear in the darkening sky, and they both told stories from their cultures. As more and more stars appeared—and constellations were visible—they took turns pointing them out. Neither of them noticed how close they were cuddling together, both lost in the stories and each other.

“That group there is Noctua, the Owl. She grants us wisdom resourcefulness. It’s common during Mabon to burn a rat tail and bones in a tribute to her,” Lyra explained.

“Those two stars there?”

“No, just below those—see those three together, then the fourth a short way away? That’s her talons.”

Gallowglass pointed, “oh, those ones?”

“Yes, that’s her.”

After a moment, Gallowglass pointed up to another group of stars. “That there is Malus—the mast of the ship Argo Navis. Ya can see Carina, the keel, Puppis, the deck, and Vela, the sail—” he pointed to each part in the list— “she was a mighty ship, one that sailed over the edge of the world and into the stars.”

“Oh wow,” Lyra whispered, following his finger, “that group there?”

“That’d be her…. I wish I had a chance ta sail her….”

She let the silence hold for a moment before she asked, “you really love sailing, don’t you?”

“I do—if there’s anything that’s touched my heart in my long, long life, it’s sailin’.”

Lyra shifted to look up at him, but his eyes were still on the stars. The sight of the little pinpricks of light reflecting on his face made her smile for reasons she did not know. Resettling next to him, she stifled a yawn, not wanting this night to ever end.

“Tell me about your last sailing trip,” she muttered, leaning against his chest.

Gallowglass smiled before starting his tale. He talked passionately for hours, only stopping when he glanced down and found Lyra out cold, curled against his side, head on his chest. His eyes flicked over her sleeping face, unconsciously memorizing every detail he could.

Lyra awoke in the morning, tucked carefully into her bed. A smell of sea salt and mint graced her nose, and she opened her eyes to find Gallowglass’s leather jacket laying across her torso. On the bedside table was a note, and the scratchy writing said:

Sorry about the jacket, but your body was cold from the night air. Hope you slept well, and I’d love to take you sailing one day

~Eric