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omgsomeonesomewhereonearth · 3 years

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I’ll Write This Scene a Thousand Times - Ch2

AO3 || Chapter 1

Ship: Moceit (Janus/Patton)

Warnings: Arguing, smoking mention character outed before they're ready.

Summary: Patton and Janus get into an argument. Feelings are hurt, and then they are shared.

Taglist: Technically, I don't have one yet, but I'm tagging some people from the first chapter who seemed interested in reading more. If you want to be added or removed, send me an ask or message.

@iclaimedtobethebetterbard @princess-rosie @symphony-soldier-29 @stardustsides @ent-is-undecisive @roka-logical-lies @ifyouhadntbutyoudid @3-has-charm @moceit

...

“Come on, try to be more cute!”

His new pretend paramour was turning out to be quite the demanding director. Janus pursed his lips, leaning idly against Patton’s incredible cozy couch cushions as he watched him tilt his phone this way and that, trying to find the most natural angle for a staged relationship announcement.

“You wound me, Patton,” he deadpanned, “I was under the impression you already found me rather cute.” Patton glared - no, that was the wrong word. Something incredibly intrinsic in the nature of Patton didn’t quite allow him to ‘glare’. Patton pouted at him in the selfie camera, freckled cheeks puffing out in frustration.

Clearly, he didn’t have much trouble with that particular direction, Janus mused.

“Why can’t you just smile?”

“I am smiling.”

“You’re smirking!”

“Same thing.”

Patton made a very petulant noise indeed, “This needs to be believable!”

“You’re mistaken if you think anything where I’m-” he shuddered, “-smiling, will be remotely believable.”

Then he caught a look at Patton’s face. As funny as it was to wind him up, Janus wasn’t sure he wanted to see him actually crack today.

“Alright, look, why don’t you come closer?” he coaxed, shifting slightly and encouraging Patton to lean against him, draping his arm around his shoulder

“There you go, how sickeningly adorable are we?”

Within the frame of the selfie, they were adorable. Patton’s honey brown curls and fluffy white sweater were the perfect contrast against his fitted black button down - ofcourse, he already knew that, they’d chosen their outfits ahead of time. To anybody who couldn’t feel the stiffness in Patton’s shoulders, they probably looked like the perfect couple.

“Okay… you ready?”

Just as the countdown ticked to one, Janus turned his head and pressed a quick kiss against Patton’s cheek.

The camera clicked.

Patton whipped around to face him immediately after, cheeks darkening, “You - I didn’t know you were going to do that!”

Janus grinned, reaching for his wrist.

“And this is exactly why,” he replied in a voice not entirely devoid of smugness. The picture had been caught before Patton had had the chance to react, still smiling widely as Janus leaned over to kiss him, “You’re welcome.”

Patton blushed harder, spluttering slightly and quickly prying his wrist out of Janus’ grip, scooting back as far as the couch would allow. Janus let him go, following the embarrassed motion with his eyes.

Once he was at what he apparently deemed a safe distance away, Patton mumbled, “It is quite a good picture, actually. Better than any of the others we’ve taken today, anyway.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said it was quite good, actually-”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t quite catch you saying that, would you mind -”

“Oh stop it!” the corner’s of Patton’s mouth twitched in what Janus chose to interpret as a smile.

He rose to his feet, feeling rather good about himself, “Well, now I suppose you can send that along to Logan for approval and we can be done here then? Er - not that this hasn’t been fun, or whatever.” he amended hastily. Nailed it.

“Oh, um - actually…”

Janus groaned, “I swear to God if you tell me we have to take another set of photos, ‘just in case’-”

“It’s not that,” Patton said quickly, “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Well, you’d better make it quick,” Janus drawled, “I do have actual engagements outside of this, you know.”

The words came out in a moment of pettiness and he regretted them almost immediately, partly because they weren’t remotely true - unless mooching around at his home counted as an ‘outside engagement’.

But as he said them, Patton deflated, his eyes downcast, his mouth drawing in to form a silent, plaintive ‘oh’.

“That’s okay!” he covered up quickly, as if he thought Janus hadn’t noticed his disappointment, “It was silly anyway, you don’t have to-”

“No no no, it’s quite okay,” Janus interjected hastily, “I can always take out the time for you, dear.”

Right, yes, flirt Janus. I’m sure that’ll somehow not make you the asshole here.

Patton gave him a wan smile. He gestured for Janus to sit, and he did, careful to leave space between them now that the camera had been put away. He watched Patton fidget for a few minutes as he tried to find the words he wanted to say.

“-So the night we… well, met, so to speak,”

Ah. Janus winced internally - he’d been wondering if Patton would want to have this conversation for a while now, and had dearly hoped he never would. Externally, he smirked. “Yes, I would say we were rather ‘well met’ - I’m glad you think so too.”

Instead of the frustrated groan that he was expecting, a burst of tiny, adorable laughter spilled out of Patton’s lips. Patton seemed just as surprised as him, lifting his hand to cover his mouth even as his shoulders shook and his dark eyes crinkled with delight.

It was hard not to smile back, with a laugh like that, especially when it had been his own idiotic joke that had caused it.

“That was quite funny,” Patton admitted as his giggles tapered off.

It had been terrible, but Janus wasn’t one to look compliment horses in the mouth. “Thank you, I try.”

Patton’s face sobered far too soon, “Um, did you - do you remember anything? From then, I mean?”

“I…” Janus considered, “I remember enough.”

The memories were hazy, though. He remembered leaving the premiere, going to get a drink. He remembered catching sight of an absolute vision in pale blue, gazing with wide, curious eyes at his surroundings, smiling and waving self consciously when he’d noticed Janus watching him. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what they’d talked about.

He hadn’t even known who Patton was, at the time, though he’d assumed he was at least semi-famous, given the usual clientele of the club.

“D’you - do you remember what I was acting like?” Patton asked haltingly, “Was I normal, I mean?”

Janus paused. He thought about the man he’d met , who laughed loudly and carelessly, who followed him eagerly to the dancefloor. Who looked at him like he would follow him anywhere, if Janus asked. He thought about the man he’d woken up next to, who’d been skittish, panicking, shrinking into himself when Janus so much as looked at him.

He thought about the way he’d felt when Patton laughed at his dumb joke.

“I’ve known you for about three days and you’ve been either tipsy or highly stressed for all of them,” he replied in a measured voice, “I’m hardly the person to ask how ‘normal’ you were acting.”

Patton nodded, though he seemed disappointed, his brow knit in confusion.

“It’s just - I don’t remember anything,” he started, voice strained, “I’ve gone over it so many times and I still can’t understand why I did it!”

Janus’ gut twisted far harder than it should have.

“Oh, thank you so much,” he snapped.

“That’s not fair,” Patton snapped back with just as much wounded ferocity, “You know what I mean - I’ve never done anything like that! I’m not like that, I stay out of trouble-”

“-Not like what, exactly?” Janus interrupted, narrowing his eyes, “Or should I say, ‘not like whom’?”

“Janus-”

Stop, he should stop, remove himself from the situation, calm down.

Janus had gotten to his feet without realising it.

“‘Stay out of trouble?’” he hissed, “We are grownups, have you considered that we shouldn’t be getting into ‘trouble’ for having consensual sex in the first place-”

“Of course I’ve considered it, but that doesn’t change the fact that we do, and we did!” Patton protested, “I’m just being realistic here, we both chose to be in this industry-”

Janus scoffed.

“And maybe you don’t care, but I-” Patton spoke right over him, “think I have a responsibility to behave-”

“Behave?” Janus laughed bitterly.

“You’re misunderstanding me-”

“Oh no, I think I understand just fine,” he interrupted, “I’m so sorry I led you astray, I assure you it won’t happen again.”

“I- I know it won’t?” Patton replied, dumbfounded, “Janus, I’m not trying to fight with you-”

“Well in that case, perhaps I should take my leave.” Janus cut in.

Patton looked dismayed, “Maybe that’s for the best, yeah,” he muttered eventually. He didn’t get up to show Janus the door.

Janus thought about slamming it behind him, but decided it would be rude and uncouth.

Besides, it would be far more satisfying to leave it open so that Patton would have to get up and close it. He was at the end of the corridor before he heard it click quietly closed.

He didn’t turn around.

…

Janus was mooching around in his flat. Janus was definitely not thinking about Patton as he did so.

Had he been about to cry, when he left? He wouldn’t have noticed at the time, what with his own anger, but the idea that Patton might have cried after he walked out made his heart clench.

Because that was fair, he grumbled to himself. It wasn’t like he’d said anything wrong, he was right - this whole charade they’d gotten trapped in, it was unnecessary and ludicrous, and it wasn’t his fault - wasn’t either of their faults.

God, he needed a smoke.

Just as he was reaching for the box hidden in his bedside drawer - why were they hidden, he lived alone - his phone buzzed. He’d been tagged in an image by @patton.theheart on Instagram. Ah yes. Even if they were both seething and furious at each other, the dance continued.

“Three perfect months with @totally_notalyre - we’re both so excited to finally share our relationship with you all!!! <3 <3 <3”

The comments were already flooding in, row after row of overwhelming positivity, keyboard smashing and heart emojis. Janus scrolled through them impassively, stopping to smirk at the ones raving about how attractive he was - well, he never claimed to be a modest man.

Then he saw one that made his blood run cold.

“So proud of you Patton!”

Followed by several rainbows.

And several more:

“I’ve been a fan of you since you were like, 16 and I’m so happy to finally see you living your truth!”

“Well done Patton! Don’t worry - your true fans will stick by you no matter what!”

“Thank you so much for sharing your true self with us, Patton <3”

The memories of the past few days, every version of Patton that lived in his head, flashed before Janus’ eyes in a very different light, ending with him cross legged on his couch, biting his inner cheek as he listened to Janus berate him.

He definitely needed a fucking smoke now. No he didn’t - he needed to call Patton, he needed to talk to him, to ask him - to ask him what? They were barely friends, and he’d just spent the afternoon yelling at him, what right did he have to demand answers?

“Calm down, Lyre,” he growled to himself, “Just call the man, be calm and subtle; you need to apologise to him if nothing else.”

“Hello?” Patton had picked up on the first ring. Did his voice sound subdued over the phone? Or teary?

“You weren’t out,” Janus blurted out clumsily. So much for subtle.

“I’m sorry?”

“When we had our… ‘encounter’,” he clarified, “You were still closeted?”

“Oh, that,” Patton replied flatly. He could practically hear him fidgeting over the phone, “Well technically, I wasn’t exactly closeted, I was just - trying to avoid talking about it until I was ready.”

“ …I’m so sorry.”

“No, no - it’s okay!” Patton said hastily, “I mean, maybe not ‘okay’, but looking on the bright side - I was planning on coming out in a few months from now anyway! So, you know, technically this took the pressure off!”

Despite his cheery tone, Janus got the feeling Patton didn’t quite believe himself. He definitely didn’t believe him. “You had one planned?” he asked.

“Well yeah, actually!” Patton admitted, “Technically, it’s still gonna happen - I’m gonna be releasing an album where I sort of share my experiences and feelings and stuff, so it’s not like I lost anything, I guess.”

You lost the right to control your own damn narrative, Janus didn’t retort, because he knew fully well that Patton knew that, he was just a relentless, infuriating optimist.

“Um… Janus?” Patton’s voice cut through his thoughts, “Just by the way - I’m not technically supposed to tell many people, so please just keep that quiet because I think Logan is already quite cross at me anyway?”

“Done,” Janus chuckled. Then he drew in a breath, ready to address the difficult part of this call, “Regarding my conduct earlier today - I believe I might owe you an apology.”

“No you don’t.” Patton responded quickly, far firmer than he’d ever been, at least with Janus.

“Patton-”

“You don’t,” he repeated, “Yeah, I mean - you could have been nicer, but you were right, and I said some less than nice things too! But, you know - when you sorta grow up in this industry, it becomes a bit hard to know which bits are normal and which bits are kinda…messed up? And our little spat today, it really kind of reminded me, so if anything, maybe I should thank you!”

“You should not.”

“Well-”

“If you can forbid me from apologising, I can forbid you from thanking me.”

“Yeah, okay, fair enough!” Patton’s giggle was just as infectious over the phone and Janus felt the corners of his mouth lift against his will.

“Ahem - well, lovely talking to you, as always, but I ought to get going now.”

“Goodnight Janus.”

“…Goodnight, Patton.”

#moceit #patton sanders #janus sanders #ts janus #ts patton #sanders sides #ts sides #sanders sides fanfiction #my writing #i'll write this scene a thousand times

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the-jade-cross · 3 years

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Knight of the Forest - Chapter IV

“Absolutely not!” Lillia objected. “I will not be wearing a cinch or a corset of any kind!”

“But my lady,” the poor maid tried pleading with the 16-year-old girl who had not work a cinch or corset in her life. “King Joffrey has announced his new betrothal and his marriage coming up in a few months and people from all over Westeros will be attending the wedding. You know your parents would want you to look your best.”

Lillia’s shoulders slumped in sadness and the cherry color of her cheeks faded. “Father has been dead for almost five years Mary…and Mother… let’s just say she never held love for me… and I doubt she held love for Robin. She just fawned over him because he was a son… let’s just say she was disappointed that her son was girly, and her daughter was like a boy.”

Mary nodded sadly, knowing full well that it had only been a few weeks since Lillia had received word of her mother’s act of suicide and while it had inflicted pain and misery in the young girl, the pain was not as much as some would deem since the only motherly love Lillia ever felt in her life was from Mayaka Tyrell.

“My lady… it will be a good 5 months before the wedding. The houses of Marbrand, Rowan, Stokeworth, Martell, Redwyne and the Prince of the Red Flower Vale will be attending the wedding. If you do not wish to wear anything appropriate for the time being, please consider it for the wedding.” Mary pleaded. “Not for me but for yourself. If Cersei Lannister does not like what you are wearing, your stay here could be painful.”

“The only reason I haven’t been assaulted, attacked, thrown out or poisoned is because Tommen is my friend and Ser Jaime has taken on responsibilities of my guardian now that my parents are dead,” Lillia pointed out as she finally selected a simple cream dress with a silver ribbon around the waist with long sleeves and a white underdress to hide her lower arms and her ankles. “Did you hear anything about who Joffrey will be wed to?”

Mary shook her head, “I thought he was to be married to Lady Sansa Stark.”

Lillia shrugged, “That was how it was for a while, but Sansa wouldn’t be sitting in the garden grinning from ear to ear if that was the truth. I have a feeling Joffrey’s lustful, evil eye has landed upon another poor soul and he has discarded Sansa. Personally, I am glad because he would have destroyed what little life is left in Sansa… but now I feel bad for whoever will be occupying the other side of his bed.”

Mary giggled slightly as she helped Lillia slip into her dress and then proceeded to gather a few strands of Lillia’s long golden curls and pull them back to the back of her head. Lillia, despite the fact that she was still the type to climb trees and joust with Ser Jaime and Tommen, had decided to not cut her hair and now the long golden curls fell to her round backside and not only drew the attention of many of the men in the castle but also the annoyance of Cersei Lannister who already hated the fact that Sansa was a lovely girl in her own home and now with a second lovely girl (not to mention that previously Evelyn Stark walked the halls of Kings Landing).

“Well,” Lillia chirped, taking up the valerian necklace that Jaime had procured for her, she placed it around her neck so that it rested against her slightly tanned, freckled skin and decided to lose any other jewelry, “I am going on a walk and hopefully Sansa will be able to tell me who the lucky bastard is.”

When Lillia finally located Sansa, who had departed from the gardens and had climbed to stand upon the battlements, the girl was looking down upon the cavalry that was arriving but sadly, due to Sansa’s slightly taller height and Lillia’s lack thereof, Lillia was unable to tell whose calvary it was.

“So… I heard about Joffrey’s marriage,” Lillia said as she tried to stand on her tiptoes to see over the battlements but failed miserably. “But by the smile on your face and the color returning to your cheeks, I am guessing it is not to you.”

Sansa turned and beamed at the girl. She had not gotten to know Lillia incredibly well like Evelyn had when they visited Highgarden but in the past months that the two have been in Kings Landing, the two had found each other’s silent company very enjoyable.

“Renly Baratheon has died, and his wife is left a widow. They aided Joffrey in the War of Blackwater and as thanks for their involvement, Joffrey agreed to marry her,” Sansa replied, her shoulders relaxing in relief.

“And who are the poor souls?” Lillia inquired, grabbing at the battlement railing in the hopes of heaving herself high enough to make out a flag.

Sansa chuckled at the petite girl’s struggles. “Margaery Tyrell.”

Lillia had just succeeded in lifting herself almost all the way onto the top of the battlement when she dropped down, almost twisting her ankle but luckily saved herself before staring at Sansa with a gaping mouth, “Say that again?”

“Margaery Tyrell,” Sansa replied, confused. “She is the one to wed Joffrey. Why?”

When Sansa saw Lillia’s face go slightly pale and then a bright crimson, hope and excitement in her eyes, she caught on slightly, “Lillia? Do you know them?”

Lillia grinned widely and grabbed Sansa’s hands, “I grew up with them at Highgarden! I cannot believe it! I haven’t seen Margaery in years! And Willas and Garlan and….Loras…”

“I do not believe Willas and Garlan are here,” Sansa replied. “It was just Mace Tyrell, Margaery and Loras. Loras helped in the fight and when Joffrey asked him what he desired in payment, Loras requested Margaery wed Joffrey. I owe them everything! If they had not suggested it to Joffrey, I would be the one wedding him!”

Lillia’s face paled, “So…. Loras…. Is here…”

Sansa nodded before frowning, “Lillia… are you alright?”

The girl hastily reached down and grabbed the bottom of her skirt before heading off, “I’ll tell you later!”

Sansa had a hard time keeping up with the fast footed girl as they rushed to the Great Hall. When she finally caught up with Lillia, the girl was peeking around one of the large pillars, looking at the crowd of Tyrell men who were feasting and drinking after their long journey.

“Why are you hiding?” the red head inquired.

“I want to see Margaery but not Loras…. Let’s just say we parted on not so good terms a few years back.”

Sansa smiled in understanding before pointing out the youngest Tyrell girl, “There she is, with Joffrey.”

Lillia spied the girl and quickly made her way through the crowd, leaving Sansa to remain hidden behind the pillar, the red head not wanting to encounter the king.

When Lillia came upon Joffrey and Margaery, she had to stare in wonder at Margaery. There was a time with the girl had been the same height as Margaery who had a few years on her but now, Margaery was a good few inches taller with slightly shorter auburn hair than Lillia but had grown with matured features and a beautiful face and elegant posture.

“Margie?” Lillia said softly, not wanting to interrupt since Joffrey was boasting loudly to the girl who pretended to be listening.

Margaery turned her head and immediately her eyes widened in joy at the sight of the girl before she rushed over to her, drawing Lillia into a tight hug.

“LILS! I cannot believe it! It is you!” She cried, pulling away to get a good look at the girl. “I never forgave father for sending you and Maya away. Oh, it is so good to see you! You have grown up! And Maya, have you seen her? Do you know where she is?”

Lillia giggled at Margaery’s many questions, “I’m so happy to see you too! Out of the two of us you definitely grew up right. And yes, I have spoken with Maya. I have not been able to see her personally, but she promised she would visit soon and with you here and your marriage to King Joffrey, I am sure you will see her.”

As the two girls chatted like two hens, a pair of blue eyes watched them from afar. Loras had been drinking and laughing with some of the men when he had spied his sister having a joyful heart attack and almost run over a petite, blond haired girl before the two had entered that state of girl chatter that Loras often deemed dangerous and scary.

However, he found his eyes drawn to the girl. She was a petite thing and standing next to Margaery who was almost the same height as Loras, the girl only reached Margaery’s shoulder. Her long golden hair was curly and fell to her hips that swayed just right. Loras was never interested in girls and had found himself drawn to men but this girl… made him forget all of that in an instant.

From what he could see from his side view of her face was that she was rosy with a little more plumpness than Margaery who was perfectly slender and elegant. The blond girl wore a simple cream dress that accented her curvy hips and perfectly rounded chest and the paleness of the dress brought out the rose of her cheeks and the freckles upon her skin that was slightly darker than Margaery’s pale complexion.

Loras found himself striding over to the two and greeting his sister, only for the strange girl to freeze before slowly turning around, green eyes wide and Loras didn’t have to ask to know exactly who the girl was.

“Loras…” The girl whispered, almost shocked with her green eyes reflecting a feeling Loras couldn’t distinguish.

“Lillia!”

(The past couple of chapters have been set roughly in season 1-3. However, for the rest of Part 1, it will be set in season 4:))

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

Lillia’s eyes widened as round as the giant water lilacs that grew in the garden of Kings Landing when her eyes locked with the all too familiar and yet unfamiliar Loras Tyrell. It had been a good couple of years since she saw him and the last time she did, they had been nothing but children but now… the Loras standing before her was a man… a grown man with curly dirty blond locks that fell almost to his shoulders, thin quirked lips, straight nose, stormy grey eyes framed by dark, thick lashes and the just slightly cleft chin.

He wore a simple dark grey doublet over a dark green shirt, the high collar of the doublet accenting his sharp cheekbones. His eyes were trained on her and Lillia fought the deep urge to fidget with her blond curls so instead she gripped a pinch of her skirt in her hands discreetly and began to knead it between her thumb and pointer finger to keep from blushing or practically breaking down in tears.

“Loras…” the girl managed to choke out, not surprised at how soft and almost shy her voice sounded.

Lillia saw Loras’s deep, calculating orbs scan her up and down before observing each corner of her face as if trying to memorize every detail though she wondered why it took him so long since due to her “couple of goats too thick” figure according to Cersei Lannister, her face and figure did not require that much attention since she lacked the sharp features someone like Cersei would possess.

“It…” Loras said, smile still evident on his face and his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “its really great to see you again.”

Lillia beamed at him and Loras felt his heart flutter at the rosy way her cheeks flushed as she smiled.

“You too,” she said, voice still gentle but with a slight bubbly excitement edge.

Margaery smirked knowingly at her brother and best friend before speaking, “I was just telling Lillia that I hope we see Maya while we are here.”

Loras tore his eyes from the blond, “Oh, I almost forgot! You haven’t seen Maya since you’ve been here?” he immediately asked of Lillia, turning his attention back to her.

Lillia shook her head, gold curls bouncing, “No. I have not seen her since I left Highgarden.”

This wasn’t a lie since she had only been communicating with Maya via the pinnacle which was just their spirits talking, not actually seeing each other face to face and she was not about to reveal to Loras who, she knew for a fact was protective of his sisters and an avid swordsman, that his big sister was living in a brothel and Lillia could talk to her because of her strange ability to control earth and plants. It was crazy enough explaining it to Evelyn, Maya and Nanteza without showing them. She couldn’t even tell Jaime because she would then have to tell him everything including the fact that his wife was alive, in the wild and some dragon mother with fire powers.

“There you are Lills,” a familiar voice said and Lillia sighed at having been rescued before her heart exploded.

“Ser Jaime!” Lillia chirped joyfully, turning her eyes from Loras and over to Jaime who had a wickedly smug look on his face.

“Ser Jaime,” Margaery greeted, “lovely to make your acquaintance.”

Jaime bowed to the Tyrell, “My Lady. Ser Loras.” he greeted.

Loras bit back a growl when he saw Lillia inch closer to Jaime as if seeking out protection.

“You are wed to Evelyn stark is that correct?” Margaery inquired.

Jaime nodded, “That is so. I have not seen her in almost two years.”

Margaery gave him a sad smile, “I am sure Evelyn is well. I remember meeting her at my sister’s name day and if Eve is anything like she was then, she is safe and well.”

Jaime smiled gratefully at the kind and encouraging words from his soon to be in-law but Loras ground his teeth. He watched as Jaime lent down and whispered to Lillia just loud enough for the Tyrells to hear.

“Tommen wanted to know if you would dance with him tonight.”

Lillia chuckled and snorted in the process, making Margaery giggle and Loras and Jaime smile at her unladylike action.

“It seems I am doomed to be Tommen’s dance partner until he learns the steps. Fear not though, I coated my shoes with iron.”

Jaime chuckled and planted a fond kiss in the girl’s blond hair. Anyone could see that the love between the two was like father and daughter but to Loras, it was not like that but much more extreme.

“It must be difficult,” Loras said to Jaime, trying to keep his voice calm, “To have lived two years without the comforts of a wife.”

Jaime saw the way Loras’s eyes practically burned green with jealousy as they drifted back to Lilli and he caught on to the root of the boy’s comment. Pretending he hadn’t heard, Jaime spoke back.

“I heard that you remained in your sister’s cap while she was married to Stannis. I suppose you and your brother in law were close?”

Lillia’s jaw dropped, having heard the rumors that Stannis Baratheon’s wife had been left a virgin due to the king’s lust for a certain knight but she hadn’t realized it was…. Oh gosh, that explained many things!

Margaery pretended to be vastly intrigued by her wine and Loras’s jaw tensed as he and Jaime stared each other down. When Lillia touched Jaime’s arm to snap him out of it, Loras’s eyes turned to the girl and was shocked to find the light and color in her face gone, replaced by misery and pain.

“Will you excuse us?” Jaime asked, sensing Lillia’s desire to depart and when Loras made to speak to Lillia, a single scowl from Jaime shut him up.

Once Jaime had escorted Lillia to one side of the hall and fetched her a glass of water, Lillia collected herself.

“Why did you say those things to him?” She asked Jaime, “He has done nothing to you and yet you treated him like he was your childhood bully.”

Jaime sighed, “You love him Lills. I can see it as plainly as you have a nose upon your face. But he doesn’t see it because he is a foot, an idiot and most definitely interested in men. I will not have him treat you all friendly and sweet and lead you to believe he is in love with you, only for him to break your heart. You are too good to have to experience a broken heart.”

“I know!” Lillia snapped before her voice became soft, “I know he doesn’t love me and never will. That was made clear to me long ago.”

Jaime let out a breath before gathering the girl into a hug, well aware that Loras was glaring at him from across the room. If only the young fool knew that five months prior, Jaime had named Lillia his ward. Mostly to keep Cersei from forcing the girl into an evil marriage since if a girl is claimed as a ward, whoever her guardian is cannot lay sexual hands on her and is the only who can determine the ward’s husband.

“Lillia Arryn?” a girl’s voice squealed.

Lillia pulled away from Jaime and almost fainted when she recognized the tanned skin, big dark eyes, plump smooth lips, petite slender figure and brown hair immediately.

“Nanteza!?” The Dornish girl rushed into Lillia’s arms and began to ramble as a smiling Jaime left to give the two some privacy.

“I cannot believe I’m seeing you right now!” Nanteza squealed. “When uncle Oberyn told me we were coming to Kings Landing, I never thought I would actually get to see you!”

Lillia beamed, “You are definitely a sight for sore eyes!” the blond exclaimed. “Where is your uncle?”

Nanteza smirked mischievously, “He dropped by the brothel right when we landed, and you’ll never believe who he met!”

Lillia frowned before she realized the truth and her eyes rounded, “Maya!?”

Nanteza nodded, “OF course the dim wit didn’t recognize her, but I went with the guards to bring his trunks to the brothel and I saw her! She wears a mask and surprisingly modest brothel clothes. She keeps her hair covered but there is no mistaking those eyes.”

“Oh this is just getting better,” Lillia squealed before her face went serious, “But Nan… you do realize that this is the opportunity we have been hoping for. We need to get Maya out of that brothel as soon as we can and make up a reliable story to hide the truth about you know what.”

Nanteza nodded. This was going to be interesting.

#got #game of thrones #Jaime Lannister #loras #Loras tyrell #Loras Tyrell x oc #Loras Tyrell x reader

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 5 years

Photo

SOON YOU’LL GET BETTER

time's running out for Riza. and they can do nothing else, but face this truth.

ao3

{AN: This is easily the most personal story that I have ever written. My mom died of cancer almost two months ago and I needed to cope with that, hence this fic. Tbh, I don't even think it can strictly be called fanfiction - I simply used those characters to channel my personal trauma. Sorry not sorry for that. It feels very weird to post it publicly, but I decided to do it, cause the fact that this doc was somewhere on the hard drive of my laptop was driving me mad. Also... I feel like the topic of death and dying is not discussed often enough nor openly enough. I certainly hope that this story will maybe help someone who's going through something similar to what I'm going through. Or maybe will help someone to understand how it feels to say goodbye. How heavy this grief is.

The title comes from Taylor Swift's Soon You'll Get Better, cause this song is by far the most accurate description of what's going on in the head of some who has a sick parent that I have ever seen.}

__________________________________________________________

When you're feeling lost I'll leave my love

Hidden in the sun

For when the darkness comes

- Colbie Caillat

RIZA

The house’s so quiet and feels so inviting that she could cry from the sheer relief of coming inside. There are no flames dancing in the fireplace but she still feels warmth worming underneath her skin, replacing the bone-chilling coldness of the rain outside. With a sigh, she kicks off her shoes before putting them neatly in the corner and stepping on the white plush carpet in the corridor. She wiggles her toes in it, enjoying the texture against her battered feet.

Soft material makes her steps almost soundless as she makes her way through the first floor and climbs up the stairs. Even Koya doesn’t lift his little ginger head from where he’s sleeping, in his wicker basket by the doors of her younger daughter.

Riza gently pushes the door, letting them open slightly. The light from the corridor spills inside the room, framing Sara’s bed in silver; her little face so pale in the poor lighting, dark hair messy and thumb inside her mouth.

It’s been a few years since she last did it, since she last came back to the childish comfort of this coping mechanism. Riza was sure that she has it well behind her, those moths of coating Sara’s hand in foul-smelling ointments or wrapping it with ribbons.

Despite her best wishes, she can do nothing but take a few steps closer and then another few and then suddenly she’s on her knees right next to the bed. Carpet in her little daughter’s room is blue, Amestrian royal blue, deep and soft. Her girl loves this color. Wears it in her hair and on her clothes and all her pet animals are blue too. But as Riza watches her sleeping face, she thinks pink would be a shade much better suited for Sara, with her rosy cheeks and flowery innocence of a child shielded from any possible harm, any dangerous blow.

That’s what they have been doing all this time, her and Roy. Spreading an umbrella above their girls’ heads, building glass castles on the clouds for them and keeping them safe at all cost.

Riza gently touches Sara’s still-chubby hand and contemplates pulling her thumb from in between her lips, but ultimately decides against it.

Her daughter will need all the comfort she can get soon.

Sometimes she feels like she has spent most of her life waiting.

When she was six years old and her mom went into labor, nobody suspected that it won’t be a quick thing, devoid of complications. Tereza Hawkeye was a strong woman, used to hard work on the farm and running the house for her absent-minded husband. Riza remembers her red, calloused hands and freckles that would appear on the bridge of her nose during summer months; remembers her smile and the smell of her hair. There wasn’t a soul that would look at her and guess that Tereza was born in the aristocratic circles of Central City, with an army of servants ready to attend to her every whim and silk dresses in her closet, that she could rise very, very high if she didn’t decide to so-called ‘’follow her heart’’, run away with the young alchemist and settle down with him in the village on the countryside, forgotten by god and men alike.

To be honest, Riza never thought much about her mother until she became a mother herself. Trying to put together fragments of Tereza in her head the way one could play with a jigsaw puzzle, she looked through few faded photographs she had left and recollected even more faded pictures in her memory. And the more she thought about it and the more she watched Roy and Grumman playing chess together, the more she pondered of how much of a hopeless romantic really was in her mother. Because it seemed to her Tereza could be as well a perfectly pragmatic young woman who just plainly decided she preferred to be barefoot and pregnant at the edge of the world than to be pushed on the board according to the whims of her father – even as a queen.

No matter her motives, Tereza married Berthold Hawkeye and gave him a daughter before dying in childbirth along with their son.

And Riza remembers that waiting all too well; small blonde girl sitting forgotten and omitted on an armchair in the corridor, clutching her teddy bear close to her chest, her face pressed to the faded material. She remembers screams behind the wall, remembers how her father stormed inside, remembers the sound of the door shutting close. Remembers long hours of pressing her fingers to her closed eyelids just to see stars exploding. Sometimes she feels like maybe she never left this armchair, never hoped off to kiss her mother’s soft, cold cheek goodbye.

And then years and years of silence, of wind blowing inside the house and playing with endless pages of her fathers’ notes laying discarded on every surface. Of silence in which they both were trapped, like flies in a jar full of honey, which they shared for so long she thought she will never speak again. Until a pretty boy from Central City appeared on their creaking doorstep, with his laughing dark eyes and a suitcase. He bowed in front of her politely and asked about her name.

And she said ‘’Riza’’, even though only her mother ever called her that, even though she was ‘’Tereza’’ in her birth certificate.

And he smiled widely.

‘’What a beautiful name.’’

Forget fire alchemy; the warmth she felt in that moment was incomparable with any other before and after.

At least her daughters won’t be left to her own devices after she’s gone. At least she has given them a better father than hers. At least this, at least that, all bitter, all making her choke.

They tell them first thing in the morning.

Time for deception and avoiding this topic is over. They wasted it on constructing elaborate lies instead of trying to find the right words and it’s so, so hard now. Riza grips Roy’s hand tightly under the table during the breakfast and opens her mouth before he has a chance to.

“I’m sick, girls.”

The harsh, ugly truth. Cruel military honesty.

Sara whips her head up to stare at her in shock, her eyes round like coins and confused. She drops her fork; it slips from in-between her fingers and lands with a clatter on the porcelain plate, spraying her blouse with yellow of scrambled eggs. But, as Riza takes a look at her older daughter, she thinks Eli as well could’ve, on the contrary, turned into a stone. She doesn’t even blink. She just sits perfectly still, her hand suspended in the air, reaching for a bread roll.

A heartbeat passes, maybe two.

“Girls-“

Eli’s hand slaps down on the table.

“How sick?”

Sara’s bottom lip starts to tremble. Dear god, please don’t let her cry. – thinks Riza desperately, feeling something welling up in her chest. She feels like a grenade about to burst and kill everyone in the room. Maybe that’s truer than she suspected.

She tries to answer and, horrified, finds that she cannot seem to find any words.

“Very sick, Eli.” – says Roy instead; quietly, gently, he reaches out to caress Sara’s cheek and here they are, rolling down her perfect, pink skin. Tears, one after another.

Riza cannot breathe, cannot think even.

Eli slowly lowers her eyes, until they stay stuck on her plate; she is so, so beautiful like that, lost in thought. Forget blonde hair and sun-kissed complexion of Hawkeye’s, forget her blooming breasts and round face – she has never looked more like Roy right now, when Riza can almost see the gears in her head turning, her brilliant mind putting facts in order.

“I knew it. I knew it and yet… I didn’t want to know it.” – Eli’s voice is very quiet, barely above whisper, but she commands the attention of everyone. Even Sara stops biting on her lip to look at her. – “You stopped working and god, all those trips. The trip all the way to Xing, that you didn’t take us – you were visiting Al and Mai, right? To ask if they can do anything.”

Riza suddenly has an urge to laugh. To cry also, but mostly to laugh. Her eyes find Roy and there it is, their common understanding how could we thought we can ever keep anything a secret from them?

Even if they don’t know, they do. Sara’s finger stuck in her mouth, how big of a crybaby she became lately, her ever-brave and ever-bold firecracker of a girl. The stare of Eli’s watchful eyes analyzing every action and change in their daily routine.

“You are too smart for us, darling.” The corners’ of Roy’s lips twitch as if he was about to smile. “We never give you enough credit.”

Eli takes a shaky breath and barks a sad, little laugh before burying her face in her hands for a moment. When she raises her head up, her amber eyes are shiny.

“I don’t think I am, honestly. If I was, I would know what to tell you –“

“Are you going to die, mommy?”

Silence falls like a knife, cutting Eli’s sentence in half and freezing Riza’s brain. Sara is standing now, hands planted flat on the table and she leans towards her; tears still rolling down her cheeks and nose already red, she asked her question with the dead seriousness, crashing violently with the high, birdy pitch of her voice.

Ishbal was one, never-ending bloodbath that she will never manage to atone for. Working under Bradley was a constant, day by day struggle, when her body felt like a taunt bow-string, never relaxing, always on alert. During five minutes when she thought Lust had killed Roy she barely felt alive at all. Promised Day was a nightmare. Her first miscarriage sent her into the very depths of despair. Sitting with Roy in that room and hearing the results of the tests, seeing his face and the light gone from his eyes, she was sure there will be nothing more harder than that. But having lived through it all, Riza realizes has never felt more broken, more helpless and devastated, than now; when she has to gently cradle her youngest daughter’s face in her hands, look her in the eyes and say, without any turn-backs or bullshit excuses:

“Yes.”

There are more than a few things that she loves about her life. She loves their house in Central; cozy, bright and without fancy high ceilings and big windows that would put her bodyguard instincts into overdrive. She loves her dogs; their simplicity and loyalty, how they always come over to greet her home, how they appreciate a good scratch between their ears and how they all remind her of dear Hayate somehow. There are days that she even loves Central City, its hustle and bustle, and all the memories – good and bad alike – that she made here.

But above all, she loves her family and each and every person that form it. She suspects she will never stop marveling at the miracle that happened to her at some point; that the lonely, sad little girl growing up as alone as a child can possibly be, ended up surrounded by so many people loving her and caring for her. So many people to say goodbye to.

She considers herself lucky. More than lucky – the luckiest.

It doesn’t think any of this makes is easy. On the contrary - she thinks it would be easier if she was not so generously gifted by fate. The biggest struggle, as she learns in time, is to not say I’m fine all the time, not repeating it as a foolish parrot round the clock. She respects Roy and girls too much to maim them with this fool’s gold phrase, but it’s so difficult. She finds herself biting on her tongue more often than not, several times a day, until there are scars on the soft tissue that refuse to heal.

Cause she is not fine.

Where it hurts most, asks her Roy one time, desperately, in the dead of the night; his arms around her, holding her upright from behind and his lips on the back of her neck as she sags above the toilet. At this point, she can’t remember how much time has passed since she started vomiting, the room is spinning in front of her eyes and she too bone-deep tired to even try faking anything, and so maybe that’s why she actually answers him.

She slowly wills her arms to raise up, until her hands are up in the air, high enough so he can see.

“This.” She says, voice small and throat scraped raw, but she knows he would understand anyway.

This never-ending shaking, twitching, trembling, as if somebody was electrocuting her limbs all the damn time. Her treacherous hands that used to be so sure and reliable holding a gun, finger concrete-still on the trigger, and which now did not even allow her to braid her daughters’ hair. She misses their sureness and, even more than that, the sign of them simply makes her scared. Everything is more real, more tangible, seeing this tremble.

And then she starts to vomit again, with blood this time, and she doesn’t want to remember anything else from what followed, but she recalls how it ended; the blissful, cool sheets, the wet rag on her forehead. Roy on his knees by the bed, kissing her every finger and knuckle and line on her palms.

They go to Dalisay in June, just four of them. The road is longer and harder than Riza hoped it would be, with pain running up and down her spine like an electric current, her hands struggling to turn the pages of the book - but it’s nice anyway, so nice.

She cannot read and is too tired to talk really, so she just sits with legs resting on the opposite sofa and head nested on Roy’s shoulder, listening to Sara’s baby-bird-twitting. Her girl spends the whole journey standing up with her palms pressed to the glass, looking out of the window and asking about everything – what is this station, what is this city, how many hours ahead of us, are these sheep, mommy look, mommy look. And Riza obliges, slowly turning her head in the direction of the outside and nobody has to know that she doesn’t look at the sheep, or horses, or little farms, but she just watches Sara; her eyes gleaming, her cheeks cherry pink, dark hair curling around her face.

Eli has an alchemy book on her lap, opened right at the middle, but it’s more for the show as she’s not reading either. From time to time, she scratches Mochi’s head or pets Koya gently, but most of the time she just stays silent. Riza feels her eyes on her, as her skin tingles from the intensity of this state, with the familiar desperation, love, and longing. How to burn someone’s face in your memory, in your heart? If you stare long enough, can you remember for forever?

So, the only voices in their compartment – a nice one, really, with comfortable sofas and wooden floors and curtains, private, for what she’s more than thankful – are Sara’s questions and Roy’s answers. He knows everything about the landscape outside and Riza wonders how weird it must feel for him, going down this old memory lane with them, taking the same train that he used to take as a little boy and then teenager, but many years later, with his family and his dear, dying wife. She doesn’t know what kind of feelings it must evoke – she was always the one waiting on the train station after all, static and longing.

He tells Sara – this is river Enola, do you know where it starts? This village is called Priam, they have a sunflower festival every summer, yes, we can go see it. Yes, this blue thing is a lake, lake Moore. It’s very big. Like, hm, from your school to the park? No honey, I don’t think whales live there. Dolphins neither. But there are many other fish.

Riza skids closer to him, feeling his arm gently wrapping around her, his fingers rubbing circles on her hip. He must take comfort in knowing at least this, answering at least those questions. For Roy’s action-driven nature it must be torture to drift with her like that, time slipping from in between their fingers like water. But he slows down to stay by her side as long as they have left, wills his blood and heart to match the rhythms of hers. He is no longer her wildfire, but a rock, solemn and still.

Unflinching.

Dalisay’s somehow just like in her memory and completely different at once, and it makes her head spin. The streets are busier, livelier – with the opening of new train lines and the discovery of rare elements in the area nearby, her sleepy little village has never been so awake. But the air still smells like honeysuckle and strawberries, the grass is so shockingly green compared to the one in Central.

It’s a new world, altogether. It’s almost like they crossed some barrier and entered a foreign land.

And her daughters explore it eagerly, even Eli losing that worried expression from the train in order to curiously peek around the corners and listen to people talking with a melodic, longish intonation that Riza has abandoned long ago, somewhere between the first and second year of the Academy. Sara basically vibrates with energy as she runs from one stall to another on the farmer’s market, begging Roy for sugared almonds or a pack of mint candies.

As the girls lead the way, the two of them slowly stroll, step by step. Riza holds onto Roy’s arm, but she feels so light that it surprises even herself. The pains more bearable like that. She can almost convince herself that the girls are a little smaller, that they are still a First Family, that it’s just a regular Saturday like thousands before and thousands after. The sun’s so warm and honeysuckle so sweet, and they take a break here and hide in the shade for a second.

“I have dreamed of taking you on that damn market, you know.” – Roy whispers into her ear and she just has to laugh at the irritation at his voice. –“ But I never had enough money or guts to do it.”

“To be honest, I think guts were the bigger issue.” – she waves her hand at the crowd and the stalls. – “ The only thing you could’ve bought me here back then were carrots probably.”

He chuckles lightly, gently sneaking one arm around her waist to stabilize her, as the smooth street turns into a cobblestone path. She wonders briefly if he even notices those small acts of care that he performs or if they are something completely instinctual. Her heart swells at the thought and she turns her head slightly and presses a kiss just below his jawline.

“What was that for?” he asks softly, caressing her cheek with a free hand in return.

“Everything.” She simply states and rests her head on his shoulder as they continue to stroll at snail’s pace, in silence this time. She is sure he understands. They never really needed many words between them anyway.

Bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, they make their way forward.

There were snakes in Ishbal. Or, she supposes, there are snakes in Ishbal, since they have proven to be far more resilient than Ishbalans.

Upon entering the front, the first thing higher-ups did, was presenting her with a pair of military boots and forbidding her to ever take them off. They were monstrous things, made from tough, boiled leather, with an extra protective layer around the ankle; they weighted a ton and made her feet cook inside, turned her skin white, slimy and wrinkly. But she and everyone else would dutifully wear them every day, even in their sleep, mindful of the alternative.

Sand vipers like dark and cool places, just like humans in the desert. They are small and sleek, their bodies fashioned for zig-zaging through the golden dunes and escaping from sunlight. If they bite you, you don’t even feel it at first; you go on with your life, resume your duties. But after two hours or so, you start to shiver violently. Then, in mere minutes, you lose your balance. Then your sight, your hearing. And then you die, just like that. It takes maybe an hour from the first tremble. You don’t have any time to say goodbye, to write a letter to your loved ones. You are gone before you can feel yourself slipping away.

More Amestrians died from this goddamn venom than from any Ishabalan resistance, that’s for sure.

Riza’s sickness is kinda like that.

It takes time to unravel, gives her a room to breathe, gives Roy and the girls and even herself some hope against all reason, because how can she die if she still can walk and talk and smile? If she cooked a dinner yesterday and tended to the flowers in the garden in the afternoon?

Yes, she can.

Yes, she does.

One morning, she doesn’t get up.

I still have time to say goodbye, I still have some time, I still do. - she keeps on thinking right until it runs out.

ROY

In the end, after Havoc and Catalina take sobbing Sara away to their flat, it’s only Roy and Eli, alone. Her, curled on the bed by Riza’s right side. Him, kneeling on the floor next to the bed by Riza’s left side. Each holding her hand.

It’s very late and very quiet, no sound besides Riza’s heavy breathing. She has lost consciousness days ago and ever since then, Roy has been staring into her unseeing eyes and trying to spot just a spark of awareness in them, just a little bit of brightness. It’s all for naught, of course. Her eyes are still brown, but they are no longer hers. He doesn’t know where his wife went to, but she’s not here. He told that Eli a thousand times and more and she would always nod in understanding and then lay back down on the folded sheets and resume tracing gentle circles on Riza’s limp hand.

So he gave up trying to talk her out of staying. Besides, her presence gives him comfort, he cannot deny it; she’s the other set of heartbeat in the room that is not going to go silent any time soon. And she’s the only one who can possibly come close to understanding what he feels, no matter how different was Riza’s role in her life compared to the one in his.

Riza, Riza, Riza. Slipping through their fingers so damn quickly. He keeps on begging for just one more smile from her, just one more word that means anything; not the delirious babbling that she sometimes lets out, not those screams full of fury when they try to move her. She just went under so quickly and violently that it makes his head spin.

‘’Life is no more than a candle burning in the darkness, about to get blown away at any moment.’’ – Eli whispers, breaking the silence.

Roy almost smiles at that. They’ve been playing this game of quotes ever since she was six, but recently, she started to win more than lose. His bright girl.

“I don’t know.’’ – he admits, his eyes trained on Riza’s face. God, she is still so beautiful. Her skin is clammy from sweat, lips half-opened and cheeks hollow and she remains the only woman he has ever had eyes for. – ‘’Who wrote it?’’

‘’Mom said it.’’

Eli’s voice is heavy and, when he takes a look at her, he realizes she’s on the verge of tears.

“She did?’’

‘’Yeah. She also said I should cherish the light as soon as it lasts. But - papa, this is - so hard.’’ – his daughter lowers her head, her hair falling down and obscuring her face from him, but he can still hear her choked sobs. Her shoulders are shaking. She hasn’t called him ‘’papa’ since Sara was born.

She does not deserve this, crosses his mind. Maybe it’s my punishment for all the things I did, but she’s innocent. She’s good. She does not deserve this.

He wonders what he can say to her to make it easier for her and finds himself empty-handed and terrified. So he settles for the only thing he can say.

‘’I know, baby. I know.’’

He holds out his free hand and she takes it. Her grip is strong and sure, and he thinks, once again when did she grow up, when did it happen? Five minutes ago she used to have two long braids and missing front teeth. Ten minutes ago she used to be a sleeping babe by Riza’s breast, cheeks pink and brows constantly furrowed, as if she was pondering about the universe’s biggest questions. And now she’s here, they’re both here, holding hands in a circle and waiting in silence for the candle to burn out.

‘’She wanted to say goodbye so badly. We had so much time and wasted it all.’’

‘’We did not waste any time, dad. I don’t think you can ever really say goodbye to someone like that.’’

Riza dies before the morning comes, choking on the blood flooding in her lungs and flashing the whites of her eyes in desperate attempt to catch yet another breath. Roy does not cry; instead, he stays solemn and still as a stone, his voice loud and clear, telling her how he remembers when they first met.

“What a life we had, my love. You can go now, rest.”

He can feel his heart beating in his throat.

Eli sobs helplessly, clutching Riza’s hand to her chest.

“I love you mom, I love you, I love you.”

Maybe Eli is right. What more can you say than that? I love you, I will miss you. And Riza already knows all of that, wherever she is.

“You don’t have to be brave anymore, Riza.” - He tells her, every word dipped in honey of years well-lived.

And then there is only silence, uninterrupted, ringing in his ears like a gunshot.

He can swear that his wife last breath was a sigh of relief.

ELIZABETH

Dawn finds Elizabeth curled on the swings in the garden.

She has laid down here after mom died, hours ago; slipped out of the house just when the lights of uncle Jean’s car appeared on the driveway. In part, she wanted to give them all the space to say their goodbyes and didn’t feel like she was needed inside. In another part, she just wanted to be somewhere else for a while.

Nobody told her that death had its own smell.

And nobody told her that her mom’s corpse will still be soft and warm after she passes away. That, if one would not look for it, you could even not notice she wasn’t breathing.

Elizabeth sat on the bed and felt as mom’s hand in hers was growing colder and all she could think of is that it’s still her mom.

And so she fled, her feet wet from the morning dew and sobs still tearing through her body.

She’s not crying now; it feels like she has run out of tears, to be honest.

Somewhere, at the back of her mind, she’s thinking: there are mom’s clothes hanging in the closet. Her shoes put neatly on the shelves by the door. Her favorite mug, the one with chipped rim, on her bedside table. Her favorite perfume, the one in a blue glass bottle, in the bathroom.

What we’re supposed to do with all of that?

What am I supposed to do, when she’s gone?

Now it’s only her and sunrise, light caressing her face like her mom sometimes used to do, when she was tucking her in. She closes her eyes and she can almost see that; moonlight coloring mom’s hair silver and her soft, low voice wishing her goodnight. The smell of her shampoo. The quiet rhythm of her steps on the carpet as she was leaving, the sound of the door shutting close because Elizabeth never wanted the ajar.

Mom used to sing to her when she was sick. Soon you’ll get better. Soon it’ll get better.

Elizabeth pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. Maybe she can pretend it’s not real, if only for now. Maybe she can forget that their time has run out.

Maybe she can just – close her eyes and think about her mom, about her face and her voice.

Ooo-ah, you’ll get better soon.

Despite the morning chill, for a moment, all she feels is warmth.

#royai #royai fanfiction #royai au #royai fic #fma #fma:b fanfiction

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vierafication · 5 years

Text

Getting to Know: Faolan Kells

Was tagged by @an-honest-waltz for most of these AGES ago, so just gonna make one big ol’ post!

Bold those that apply, italicize if occasional or situational.

╳ FLAWS

♔ STRENGTHS

🖌 SKILLS & HOBBIES

[ BODY ]

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Thick thighs. Toned thighs. Skinny arms. Soft arms. Toned arms. Muscular arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby Stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame. Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Small waist. Average waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Narrow shoulders. Broad shoulders. Average shoulders. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

[ HEIGHT ]

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm to 150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2 m. Taller than 2 m.

[ SKIN ]

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Moles. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Freckled. Scars. Birthmarks.

[ EYES ]

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Turquoise. Violet. Pink. Green. Gold. Hazel. Crimson. Doe-eyed. Almond. Close-set. Wide-set. Deep-set. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned. Mismatched.

[ HAIR ]

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Afro. Pompadour. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Past hip-length. Buzz cut. Bald. Weave. Hair extensions. Jaw length. Layered. Mohawk. Pony Tail. Braid. Locks. Box braids. Faux locks. White. Going Grey. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blonde. Strawberry Blonde. Ombre. Ash brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Golden brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Orange. Ginger. Red. Auburn. Dyed. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows. Plucked eyebrows.

[ TATTOOS / PIERCINGS ]

Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. Back tattoo. Shoulder blade tattoo. One tattoo. Face tattoo. Hand tattoo. Henna tattoo. Wrist tattoo. Forearm tattoo. A few here and there. Multiple. No tattoos (for now). Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercings. Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Top of the ear. Tragus piercing. Angel bites. Labret. Stretched out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercings.

[ COSMETICS ]

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Nude lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears war paint from time to time. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Never wears make-up.

[ SCENT ]

Floral. Herbal. Earthy. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Fur. Sweat. Food. Incense. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Fire. Cold. Fresh. Metal. Rain. Chemicals. Baking!

[ CLOTHES ]

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight/Form-fitting dress. Cardigans. Tunic. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports-T-shirt. Sweatpants. Tanktop. Cut off t-shirt. Designer. High street. Leather jacket. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sun dress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress.High slit dress/skirt. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Waistcoat. Khaki pants. Suit. Hoodie. Basketball shorts. Boxers/Boxer-Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sportsbra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Cotton. Linen. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Light colors. White. Black. Dark colors. Fur/Fauxfur. Revealing clothing. Heavy armor. Medium armor. Light Armor.

[ SHOES ]

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Bare feet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes. Leather boots.

So I personally don’t like this prompt because it assumes the character answers IC, but how many characters would actually let someone come up and interview them with this barrage of questions, some very personal, out of nowhere, IC? So I think it works better to think of them as... filling it out as a form themselves?

► Name ➔ Which one? ► Are you single ➔ I think so. ► Are you happy ➔ I’d better be. ► Are you angry? ➔ Thankfully, no. ► Are your parents still married ➔ Who?

NINE FACTS ► Birth Place ➔ Somewhere where the trees are tall and green and overshadowing, I think. ► Hair Color ➔ Like the earth. ► Eye Color ➔ Like the leaves. ► Birthday ➔ I do not know. ► Mood ➔ Fluctuating. ► Gender ➔ Leaning towards male. ► Summer or winter ➔ Summer. ► Morning or afternoon ➔ Can I say evening instead?

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE ► Are you in love ➔ With life itself~! Mostly. Usually. Sometimes. ► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ It’s the stuff of faerytales. So of course I do! Would love to actually see it in action, though. It’s certainly elusive. ► Who ended your last relationship ➔ No relationships to end- so I have not suffered that terrible heartache so often written about! Ha! ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ Probably. I hope so. ► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ I think the answer is yes, because I do not want them, if I can help it! Don’t like strings. ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Of course! Who or what, though, I cannot recall. ► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ I hope so! ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ NO.

SIX CHOICES ► Love or lust ➔ Love! Incredibly useless, but really quite fun to mess with. ► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ Lemonade. ► Cats or Dogs ➔ Dogs are more reliable, cats are more fun. So... cats, then.. ► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ Yes. ► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ A wild night out leads to so many more interesting possible occurrences. The other option is boring on multiple levels. ► Day or night ➔ Oh, so this is where I can say night. Night, then.

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS ► Been caught sneaking out ➔ Out of where? By whom? ► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ I am far too graceful for THAT, but it is very humorous to see! ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ No comment. ► Wanted to disappear ➔ Not if I’ve enough distractions to keep me occupied at the moment!

FOUR PREFERENCES ► Smile or eyes ➔ Eyes tell a lot more than a smile ever could. ► Shorter or Taller ➔ Shorter people are easier to poke fun at, in my experience. ► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ Attraction. ► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ I don’t want anything THAT close to me, thank you very much.

FAMILY ► Do you and your family get along ➔ We fight sometimes. ► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ It is certainly abnormal by your standards! If only you knew. ► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ When I was a child, I tried to multiple times, but I just ended up running right back home again. Not voluntarily, of course, for the forest paths never lead you where you want to go, only where you don’t. ► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ Not kicked out, necessarily, but... locked up? Hidden away? I feel that’s a better term.

FRIENDS ► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ No! That would be silly. ► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ No. ► Who is your best friend ➔ I adore friends, of course, but I would not trust anybody to THAT extent. ► Who knows everything about you ➔ Only the ones back home, and I intend to keep it that way.

Thanks again Killian!!!! Not gonna tag anybody ‘cause y’all have already done these I’m sure. But if you haven’t, consider yourself tagged!

#prompt #about faolan

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rapturesxsilliestxfool · 8 years

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Really Long Character Survey

RULES. repost , don’t reblog ! tag 10 ! good luck !

Tagged by: @sanctamater

Tagging: idk if you have some time to kill/are procrastinating, you can say I tagged you. This is really long. It’s good procrastination material.

BASICS. FULL NAME : Diane Louise McClintock NICKNAME : Miss/Ms. McClintock (does that count??) AGE : 28 when she dies BIRTHDAY : 23rd June ETHNIC GROUP : Caucasian NATIONALITY : American LANGUAGE / S : English, some basic French from holidays in Paris SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Heterosexual. tbh though I’m not sure if that’s a definite thing, or it’s just because of the time/way she was raised. She might be a lil bit bi. idk. She doesn’t know either tbh. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : Heteroromantic, but see above. RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Taken. Unmarried. Engaged sometimes, verse dependent. CLASS : Upper middle class on the surface. Very near the top in Rapture once she becomes Ryan’s official girlfriend. And then during the civil war, way down near the bottom of the class system, can just about afford a flat after selling her jewellery. It’s quite a shock for her because she’s never really been poor before. HOME TOWN / AREA : San Francisco. CURRENT HOME : Rapture. Various places, verse/time dependent. PROFESSION : Baker (although mostly she worked the counter- she did little baking in practice); girlfriend of Andrew Ryan

PHYSICAL. HAIR : Blonde. Curly, but only because she puts it up in rollers before bed. Sometimes she does little victory rolls at the front, but not every day. It depends how she feels that morning. EYES : Greeny-blue. Little flecks of brown, if you’re up close enough to see them. Thick black lashes (is it mascara? if it is, she’s not telling a soul.)

NOSE : Quite thin and elegant, as far as noses go. Turns up a little at the end. FACE : Classic oval face-shape, with a delicate chin. Rounded cheeks, which she furiously tries to hide by using make-up to enhance her cheekbones. But she still has cute lil cheeks. LIPS : Always wearing lipstick. Red is her favourite, followed by a soft coral pink. But red is definitely her usual colour. Only time she is not wearing lipstick is when she goes to bed, but she slathers her lips in lipbalm before she sleeps so that her lipstick won’t dry them out. COMPLEXION : Fairly pale on the surface, although she is the sort who tans a little in the sun. Just a little. In Rapture, obviously she’s hella pale she’s on the bottom of the ocean. BLEMISHES : She has a few freckles, which she hides with make-up. SCARS : well. if the civil war has started, she has a pretty major scar because she was caught in an explosion at her favourite restaurant and had to undergo extensive surgery to fix it. She is never happy with her face anyway, but especially after this. TATTOOS : None HEIGHT : 5 ft 1 inch. The one inch is important to her. WEIGHT : healthy. Diane is soft, soft, soft. She has a nice shape to her- not quite an hourglass, her hips are too wide in proportion to her shoulders/chest for that- and is soft. I can’t think how else to describe it. You cannot see her ribs at all. She is a good weight. BUILD : shit i just described this in the weight bit FEATURES : She has rosy cheeks when she’s been outside on a day that’s anything even remotely resembling breezy. And she has a smile that can be beautiful, could charm nations, yet it’s heartbreaking when it’s paired with tears in her eyes. ALLERGIES : Mint. It gives her a rash. USUAL HAIR STYLE : Roller-curls USUAL FACE LOOK : A basic coat of foundation to hide all the things she doesn’t want the world to know about, red lipstick, mascara. Eyebrows are shaped and maintained well. USUAL CLOTHING : She favours skirt/blouse combos, but wears dresses to events.

PSYCHOLOGY. FEAR / S : Being abandoned; dying alone; not being enough ASPIRATION / S : Diane is pretty sure she wants to marry a nice man and have kids, and then raise those kids and become a housewife/stay-at-home mum. POSITIVE TRAITS : Loyal, dedicated, precise. She has, at the end of the day, a good heart and a strong moral compass. NEGATIVE TRAITS : Fiery temper, judgemental, unlikely to question authority MBTI : ESFJ ZODIAC : Cancer TEMPERAMENT : Melancholic but with a close side-order of choleric SOUL TYPE / S : The Performer ANIMALS : Wildcat VICE HABIT / S : Wrinkles her nose; taps her nails against surfaces FAITH : lowkey Catholic. She was raised in a Catholic family, but has never been especially religious personally, and it all stopped being important to her when she moved to Rapture. GHOSTS ? : Yes AFTERLIFE ? : Yes, although after she joins Atlas, Diane struggles a little with the concept of Heaven/Hell and Good/Evil. REINCARNATION ? : No. ALIENS ? : tbh I can’t see her being surprised if presented with concrete proof of aliens, but she’s likely to laugh and ask if you’re crazy if you bring it up, just because she thinks that’s how a lady should act. POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : Pre-Civil war, she’s not really political at all. Whatever her boyfriend thinks best, she’ll go with. Post-Atlas, she thinks for herself more, and is drawn towards the left side of centre. She’s spent several years dating Andrew Ryan though, so she’s never going to be far, far left. ECONOMIC PREFERENCE : Diane has always (pre-fall) been pretty well-off, so she definitely has a preference for that lifestyle and those people most of her life. SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION : In Rapture, once she starts seeing Ryan she’s basically at the tippity-top of society. EDUCATION LEVEL : Diane dropped out of high school at sixteen, as she had a stable boyfriend (Dr Mattie Richards, the reason my Diane even ended up in Rapture) and so if she was destined to be a good and dutiful wife for him, there wasn’t much more she could learn at school that would be of use (in her opinion).

FAMILY. FATHER : Robert (Bobbie) McClintock MOTHER : Alice McClintock nee Laurent SIBLINGS : N/A EXTENDED FAMILY : Her mother is French, and Diane’s grandparents and aunt still live there. This is why Diane spent a lot of time in Paris as a child, and why she has a basic grasp of the French language. NAME MEANING / S : Diane- French form of Diana, meaning “heavenly, divine”; Roman goddess of the moon, hunting, forests and childbirth / Louise- French feminine form of Louis, which in turn stems from the German Ludwig meaning “famous war/battle” / McClintock- Anglicised form of the Gaelic Mac Gille Fhionndaig (Scottish) or Mac Giolla Fhionntóg (Irish) meaning “Son of the Servant of Saint Finndag” HISTORICAL CONNECTION ? : Uhhhh not really... I do like to think of Diane as the sort of woman who is in the background, though. She isn’t going to go down in history, and if she does it will be simply as “wife of *this dude*”. But she contributes so much to the world and gives everything her all, and I think a lot of women throughout history have been Dianes in that respect.

FAVOURITES. BOOK : Jamaica Inn- Daphne du Maurier. It’s enough of a romance that Diane can be seen reading it without feeling too self-conscious, but at the same time it’s hardly a romance at all? MOVIE : Singin’ in the Rain. Diane can’t really dance, and her singing is nothing spectacular, but when she feels down, it’s this movie she turns to. 5 SONGS : Are you kidding 5?? I am too young to know 5 50s songs that my daughter would enjoy!! ok. um. I’m going to cheat and use my above answer, and say the Singin’ in the Rain soundtrack. Especially You Were Meant for Me, which she just feels is so romantic gosh. DEITY : There is only one god in Catholicism. HOLIDAY : Valentines. Diane would be the sort to use it as an excuse to spoil her partner. Think an expensive restaurant booking, a new dinner suit laid out on the bed for them, a card sent to their office, a special effort to wear a dress their favourite colour that evening, etc. Diane loves being spoilt, but she also loves spoiling others. MONTH : June SEASON : Summer PLACE : Her Auntie Estelle’s house in Paris, on the white-painted iron bench that sat in her garden by the fishpond. WEATHER : Sun, sun, sun! SOUND : The door opening and her partner coming home; the easy chatter of a crowd on a busy shopping street; music that can take her to another place if she closes her eyes and lets it; the click of heels against a hard floor; the pop of a lid being replaced on a tube of lipstick SCENT / S : Rosewater; expensive perfume that smells of flowers and fruits; moisturising creams; hair product- hairspray and mousse; the strong smell of nail polish in an enclosed space TASTE / S : lipstick accidentally painted on teeth before it’s noticed and rectified; strawberries- in cake, as a flavouring in lipsticks, in drinks, just by themselves, with cream; fruity little drinks that smell sweet and taste sweeter FEEL / S : A hand in hers, squeezing just enough to let her know that its there and attached to someone who cares; a brush running through freshly unrolled hair in the morning, separating out the curls; taking off a pair of particularly restrictive shoes and feeling her feet find themselves again ANIMAL / S : Birds, particularly canaries and doves. NUMBER : Nineteen- the age her mother was when she married her father. Diane is secretly disappointed that she’s now older than this and unmarried herself. COLOUR : Coral pink; pastel colours.

EXTRA. TALENTS : Hair and make-up; acting stupid; cheering other people up when they are down BAD AT : Cooking anything resembling a meal; self-confidence; trusting partners- she’s been cheated on before, and part of her still sees that as her fault. She can’t help but expect it to happen again. TURN ONS : Formal wear; dark hair; cleanliness; manners TURN OFFS : Bad manners; an unkempt appearance HOBBIES : Reading romance novels (/science, secretly); sewing (this comes in useful post-Atlas, as it means she can patch up her dresses when they get torn); planning events TROPES : Break the Cutie ; Horrible Judge of Character ; Heroic Self-deprecation ; Always Second Best ; I Just Want to be Beautiful ; Took a Level in Badass AESTHETIC TAGS : dresses/skirts that do the thing when you spin; bright, bold lipstick colours; dainty heels- especially ones with bows; bows in general tbh GPOY QUOTES : “Chin up, princess, or the crown slips.” - I have no idea where, I saw it somewhere once and it just fits her.

FC INFO. MAIN FC / S : Amber Heard ALT FC / S : Emilie du Ravin OLDER FC / S : N/A YOUNGER FC / S : N/A VOICE CLAIM / S : Miriam Shor GENDERBENT FC / S : N/A

MUN QUESTIONS. Q1 : if you could write your character your way in their own movie , what would it be called , what style would it be filmed in , and what would it be about ? A1 : I think I’d just call it Diane, or maybe Miss McClintock, because minimalist titles are cool. It’d follow Diane through from her arrival in Rapture up to her death. The first part, where she is still naive and innocent, would be all in bright colours and beautiful dresses and sparkles. The accident would trigger a colour change, and suddenly the world would look a lot darker- because Diane’s worldview is a lot darker from that point. I want to be super cheesy and say that whenever Atlas is onscreen, though, the colour returns- just a little- to symbolise the hope she feels. idk. Q2 : what would their soundtrack / score sound like ? A2 : Ummmmmmm... I want to say jazzy? Classy jazzy? idk. Q3 : why did you start writing this character ? A3 : I played Bioshock 1 and 2, and wanted to write something somehow because I felt so many feelings (goddamn games making me feel shit) but didn’t have any solid ideas for a fanfic. Indie rp was something I’d been considering for a while, so I figured what they hey, and picked Diane because she’s so... interesting, and great. Q4 : what first attracted you to this character ? A4: I think it’s this idea that Diane doesn’t really influence Rapture’s fate, she isn’t one of the people that does science, or business, or whatever. Yet at the same time, she matters. She gets upset and she cries and she loves and she hates and she’s so incredibly human, and I love that about her. Q5 : describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5 : She’s a bit more impulsive than me, and a bit more blunt, so that makes her kind of hard to write sometimes. Q6 : what do you have in common with your muse ? A6 : I, too, need to be wearing bright lipstick in order to feel even remotely confident. Q7 : how does your muse feel about you ? A7 : uhhhhhhhhhhhh.... idk.... She’d probably be happy that I’m quite career-driven and chasing my dreams, whilst at the same time be like gurl why are you single, let me introduce you to this guy... Q8 : what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ? A8 : Andrew Ryan (duh.), Atlas/Frank Fontaine, Jasmine Jolene, Alex @thegirlfallsfromthesky. She actually has very few friends. Q9 : what gives you inspiration to write your muse ? A9 : My pinterest tbh. or Bioshock, in general. I see a Bioshock reference somewhere and think my daughter. Q10 : how long did this take you to complete ? A10 : idk don’t mock me I did this in chunks.

#a foolish little girl (headcanon)

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the-jade-cross · 4 years

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The Lion, the Witch, and the Elph - Chapter 7

“PETER!” Lucy cried, charging in her brother’s direction.

Peter spun around from having just watched Aslan kill the White Witch. He saw Susan and Lucy running in his direction and he opened his arms to Lucy who totaled into him, but Susan looked around worried.

“Where is Edmund?” she insisted, worried.

Peter suddenly remembered watching Edmund charge at Jadis in a fury before snapping her wand in half…. before she stabbed him in the gut with it! The three children rushed off to where Peter had seen his brother fall, only to see the boy laying on the ground…. a dwarf approaching him with an ax that was much too big for him.

“Edmund!” Susan cried, firing an arrow which struck down the dwarf.

The children rushed over to their brother and Lucy brought out her healing cordial before dropping some into Edmund’s mouth. They waited with bated breath as Edmund’s ragged breathing slowed and his eyes closed.... before he started to cough, and his eyes opened.

Lucy let out a sigh and Susan laughed breathily in relief.

Peter quickly grabbed his brother and drew him into a hug before gently shaking him, “When will you learn to do as you’re told!?” Edmund smiled sheepishly before a thought came to him and his face paled as his eyes widened, “Rhea….” “Where is Rhea?” Lucy inquired, looking around curiously. “I haven’t seen her….” “Sire!” A familiar voice called.

The kids all turned to see Orius approaching from behind Aslan…. Back to his normal self but in his arms…. was a stone figure. Even though it was stone, it was limp in his arms, but Peter and Edmund recognized it right away.

“RHEA!”

The kids scrambled to their feet and rushed over as Orius gently laid the elph down. The girl’s wings were still out and wrapped around her form as if still trying to protect herself, but her stone eyes were closed, and she looked horrible…. Lying limp like a dead fish.

“What happened to her!?” Susan insisted.

Lucy looked over at Aslan who had approached, “Can you….” The lion nodded before gently breathing on Rhea’s face. The girl’s long hair billowed from the breath before her body slowly began to change back to her normal self, the stoniness of her body seeming to disappear.

However, when she was completely back to normal, the kids saw that her state was not just because of Jadis’s magic. The wound on her head had stopped bleeding and crusted over but the side of her face was red from the blood that had dried there, standing out against her white hair and fair skin. There was also a wound on her upper left arm and her lower abdomen from the arrows and spears she had protected Peter from.

Lucy quickly grabbed her cordial and plopped a drop into the girl’s mouth. The girl did not move but they watched in shock as her wings seemed to shrink before disappearing into her skin like they had dissolved into her. Peter quickly moved around so he was sitting by her head, gently lifting her head into his lap so that it was not lying on the hard ground.

“Why isn’t she waking?” Susan insisted, worried.

“Be patient child,” Aslan assured her. “Rhea is not just a normal person. Just as the witch’s magic took time to work its spell on her, it takes time for the magic of Lucy’s cordial to work.”

On cue, the moment Aslan said this, Rhea’s eyes fluttered open and her breathing became even.

“Rhea!” Lucy cried, leaning down to grab the girl in a hug. “You had us worried!” The girl slowly sat up with Lucy’s help before Edmund came over and hugged her tightly. “Don’t scare me like that again! I’m sorry I distracted you earlier….” Rhea chuckled before patting the boy on the head, “Don’t worry about it sire. It is my duty to protect you.” “Yeah, but not to get yourself killed in the process!” Susan pointed out. “You were practically dead just now!” Rhea smiled, “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. If it means Narnia is safe then I would gladly put my life on the line.” While Lucy and Edmund reached over to hug the girl again, Susan spied Peter over Rhea’s shoulder, having watched the exchange and a pained look cross his face….

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

The children were beaming as they stood on the small platform where the four thrones stood. One by one, Tumnus and the beavers brought forth their crowns and set them upon their heads. However, each of the kids were a little out of it, occasionally looking around for any sign of the white haired Elph who had been undergoing care from the nymphs and dryads. The children had soon discovered that Lucy’s healing and even Aslan’s magic could only go so far on Rhea. It was like she was protected from any form of magic by a hard shell and only a little bit of any magic could get through, meaning that her healing couldn’t be immediate from the help of Lucy or Aslan.

“Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen,” Aslan said calmly and firmly.

Soon all the rest of the Narnian’s joined in together, “Long live King Peter, long live queen Susan, long live king Edmund, long live queen Lucy!” The children all beamed and soon the whole of the great hall was engulfed in music and dancing. The four children climbed off their thrones to go in search of one person and even though they didn’t tell each other who they were looking for, they knew that they were all looking for the same person.

After about ten minutes of searching, they all met back near the thrones and they all looked disappointed.

“I’m worried,” Susan admitted. “I asked the nymphs, but they said that she was fine this morning and they released her from the hospital ward.” “Maybe she just wants to be alone,” Edmund pointed out. “She did get hurt pretty bad. I wouldn’t really want to come to a party if all that happened to me.” “You nearly died too Ed,” Peter pointed out.

The boy shook his head, “But I didn’t get turned to stone and hurt multiple times and I don’t have an invincible shield that slows healing.” Just when Susan was about to agree with him, Lucy cried out. “There she is!” The kids all spun around to see where their little sister was pointing, and they all froze. They had never seen Rhea in anything other than her warrior attire she had worn when they first met and then the armor she wore for the battle. Now, she was washed and looked so fresh, her face bright and her cheeks rosy with color. Her long white hair was pulled mostly up into a messy bun on the back of her head and a few strands hung loose, curled instead of straight. She wore a simple dark blue dress that fell to the floor and while the collar tied around her neck, there were no shoulder sleeves, just sleeves that hung limp against her arms.

The dark blue and black of the dress brought out the paleness of her skin but also the light freckles that dusted her shoulders and nose that none of the kids had noticed before. It also accented the lime green of her eyes and showed off the dark blue ribbon that was tied around the base of her bun, the ends hanging loose at her neck which also matched the simple dark blue long earrings that hung from her ears. The girl stood next to Aslan, the two talking to Orius and both chuckling like brother and sister.

“She looks beautiful!” Susan whispered, Lucy nodding in agreement. “She has never worn a dress,” Edmund pointed out. “What do you think Pete?” “Pete?”

The two girls looked away from Rhea to find that Edmund had looked to his brother for his thoughts on Rhea’s new look only for him to discover that Peter had left. When the three looked around, they spied Peter walking confidently toward Rhea.

“Well that’s a new side of him,” Edmund muttered before asking Lucy to dance.

When Peter appeared before Aslan and Rhea, the girl looked up and met Peter’s blue eyes. Peter barely got a chance to take in her face before she dropped to a low curtsy since kneeling was difficult in a dress.

“Your majesty….” The girl was cut off by Peter reaching down and grabbing her pale hands in his, drawing her back to her feet.

Rhea still kept her head down, but Peter saw Aslan smiled out of the corner of his eye before the lion walked off to leave the two alone.

“Will you walk with me?” the boy inquired.

Rhea kept her eyes down but nodded. Peter held out his arm to her and of course Rhea couldn’t refuse so she slipped her arm through his and allowed the boy to lead her away from the crowd and onto a secluded balcony, neither of them knowing that Susan, Edmund and Lucy had watched them go with smirks written all over their faces.

When they came out onto the balcony, Peter turned to Rhea to see that the girl was looking out at the view of the sea but still keeping her eyes averted from his. Peter released her hand from his arm before turning to her.

“Rhea, please look at me.” The girl hesitated, and Peter saw her bite her lip and he knew full well what she was thinking. She really didn’t want to look him in the eye but because he had ordered her to do so, she had to obey. Peter groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Never mind…. I don’t want to order you to do something you do not want to.” He sighed, turning back to the sea.

“I am afraid,” the girl said quietly, causing Peter to look back at her. She was still looking at the sea but wasn’t averting her eyes entirely, glancing at him occasionally out of the corner of her eyes.

“You?” Peter asked in disbelief. “You faced off Jadis and her whole army by yourself without flinching. You protected my brother and I from onslaughts, taking the strikes yourself and you turned to stone and not once were you afraid.” “I wasn’t afraid then,” Rhea whispered. “I was terrified. I am just very good at hiding it. That is what Aslan says.” Peter sighed, trying to not lose his composure and draw her to him right then and there, “What is it that you are afraid of?” “Happiness,” Rhea replied. “I know it sounds stupid to fear something as wonderful as happiness, but I fear what will happen to it if I allow it to enter my life.” “You mean…. Losing people, you care about?” Peter inquired.

Rhea nodded, “And if my life goes back to what it was like before you and your siblings came here…. When I was not happy…. I do not know if I could revert back to my unhappy days after living so happily now.” Peter let out a shaky breath, causing Rhea to look at him before Peter quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly in a hug.

“Why do you have to be so selfless? You are the most selfless person I have ever met. You neglect yourself happiness for the welfare and happiness of everyone other than yourself. You fear happiness for yourself because you do not trust yourself to live on if that happiness dies. Is it against your expectations for me to be selfish?” the boy insisted.

Rhea stared at him, shocked at his outburst before she thought about his question, “If you choose to be selfish your majesty then there is nothing, I can do to stop you and it is not against my duty….” “Then let me be selfish,” the boy muttered.

Rhea barely heard him before Peter drew her toward him and smashed his lips onto hers. He didn’t care that with Rhea pressed against him flush and her hands gripping his tunic that he was probably wrinkling his outfit. Quickly releasing the girl’s arms, his hands traveled up to her face and cupped it gently in his hands, drawing her closer as he deepened the kiss.

Gently he drew back to find that Rhea’s face was flushed, her lips slightly swollen from the rough kiss and her eyes wide in surprise…. The faintest evidence of tears appearing in her lime green orbs.

“You said it is your duty to protect my siblings and I and to ensure that we are happy and safe correct?” the boy inquired.

Rhea slowly nodded, still shocked from the kiss, Peter’s hands still on her face.

“Then, I do not feel safe or happy when you are not with me Rhea,” the boy breathed, tracing her face with his thumbs. “I feel lost and confused. I cannot stand being around you, but you are avoiding my gaze or treating me as if I am above you. I hate it that you never use my name anymore but just my title. Gosh darn it I wish that if this was what it would come to, that I wasn’t meant to be on the throne!”

“Don’t say that!” Rhea said suddenly cutting him off, but Peter pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes.

“No, I will say it. I never want you to think that what I am telling you is a command. Do not think that everything I tell you or say is a command that must be followed blindly because of the fact that my siblings and I are now royalty. I want you Rhea. I want you in my life and not as a General or as a subject but as a person. As the person who guided us and protected us through the whole of Narnia. Who was our friend and important person in our lives that we cared about…. the girl that I fell in love with!” Rhea froze at those words before Peter slowly relaxed from his ranting and sighed.

“You do not have to give me your answer right now…. Just think about it,” he whispered.

The girl slowly nodded before allowing Peter to bend down to place a feather light chaste kiss upon her lips.

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

Peter sighed as he stepped out of the hot bath dressed in his pants, his shirt in hand about ready to climb into bed. He had said goodnight to his siblings earlier who had gone to their separate rooms to sleep. It had been a long reception after the coronation that had lasted well to midnight and now everyone was either dead asleep in the great hall from all the drinking and eating or had retired earlier.

The boy tossed his shirt over his head, not bothering to lace up the collar, leaving part of his chest bare as he grabbed his towel and began to dry his hair. He had just finished drying it, leaving his hair rather ruffled and untamed when there came a knock at the door.

Thinking it was one of his siblings or possibly Orius or the beavers, he quickly walked over and opened it, only for him to come face to face with a familiar pair of green eyes.

“Rhea!” The boy stuttered, realizing that both of them were in a state of undress.

He was dressed only in his pants and shirt, barefoot and part of his chest bare, his face still damp from the bath water and his hair ruffled. The girl had changed back into a more warrior type attire, obviously finding it foreign to dress in a dress after so many years. She wore a simple pair of pants with a cotton shirt similar to Peter’s but at least her’s was tucked in and the laces laced up to hide her chest but that was it.

“Wha….” Peter started but froze when Rhea lifted her eyes and he saw the earnest look in them, her face showing no signs of faltering or holding back. It was like he could see her whole heart in her eyes.

“May I ask you for one favor sire?” she whispered gently.

Peter paused, not sure what was happening but so far, he didn’t see it as bad before he slowly nodded.

Rhea smiled softly before biting her lip, “May I be selfish?”

The young king did not need anything else to tell him that was her answer. Reaching forward, he grabbed Rhea by the wrist and pulled her into the room, closing the door behind them with a sound thud.

Rhea felt the air in her lungs sucked out when Peter clasped her behind her head with one hand, pulling her face to his as he crashed their lips together before slipping his other arm around her waist, holding her flush against him.

The kiss was passionate, full of love, desperation and long-awaited feelings. When they finally pulled back, they were panting, and Peter rested his forehead against Rhea’s.

“You may be as selfish as you want,” he whispered. “I do not care if you are never selfless again, just as long as it means that you will be in my life.” Rhea smiled shyly, letting her head thunk against his broad chest. Peter felt his face flush when Rhea’s warm hands touched his broad chest, his own hands drifting down her arms to her waist.

“May I say something?” the girl whispered.

Peter chuckled, “You never need to ask for permission to do anything…. But this time, you have to at least call me by my name.” Rhea paused before biting her lip in thought, trying to see how she could do that when an idea popped into her head and her eyes flitted shyly up to Peter’s.

“I love you, Peter.”

The boy froze, feeling his face flush and tears prick his eyes. Quickly grabbing the girl’s face, he pressed his lips to hers gently in a chaste gentle kiss that expressed every depth of love.

When he pulled back, the tears in Peter’s eyes had fallen down his face, a smile on his lips, “I love you Rhea.”

That night, Rhea and Peter shared a love that they never thought existed and that love would carry on through the whole of their lives.

During the years that the Pevensies lived in Narnia, Rhea grew closer and closer to each of the children. She and Susan grew as close as best friends, always turning to each other when it came to guys. Rhea would confide in Susan when it came to Peter and Susan would ask Rhea for help when young knights or men tried to flirt with her. Of course, the moment Rhea came on the scene, the guys all dispersed…. To circle around the elph instead. That is, until they saw the metal bracelet around her left arm which showed that she was taken and betrothed.

Peter had gifted the bracelet to Rhea shortly after she had accepted his feelings and had expressed her own to him. Peter had learnt of the Elph custom to not marry till they were older but to ensure that he never lost Rhea to another man, Peter designed the bracelet and gifted it to Rhea. From that day onward, Rhea never had it off. Peter and Rhea’s relationship soon became one built on trust and pure love that they felt for each other. Of course, since they were not necessarily engaged and not yet married, they could not share quarters but that did not stop the two from spending some nights in the other’s room especially the nights when everyone in Cair Paravel was out like a light after a party or banquet.

Edmund and Rhea soon became as thick as thieves, playing pranks on the other kids, Tumnus and the Beavers. Rhea taught Edmund different talents that he could learn by recognizing the gifts of the elements. How to listen to the earth… the difference of the tree’s behavior, animals’ reactions to different things nearby and how to feel things through the earth. How to hear voices by putting your ear to the wind or to walk with the wind so that no one can pick up his trail. How to know the water like the back of his hand so that rowing was ten times easier or treading through water was easier and swifter. And most importantly, how to recognize heat signatures not just in humans but in animals, the earth and even plants.

Lucy and Rhea’s relationship remained the way it had been from the start: Rhea always being at Lucy’s side and being a mother figure to her while Lucy always seemed to read Rhea’s expressions easier than anyone.

That one particular day that Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy went riding after the white stag, Rhea stayed behind which was of course unusual for the girl who always loved to join in the sport with the Kings and Queens who were now almost adults… but Lucy knew there was something up.

Rhea had been acting a little differently…. Quieter…. But brighter as if she had a wonderful story to tell. Lucy had also noticed Rhea constantly staring at the bracelet that Peter had given her. Of course, it had soon dawned on the young girl that Rhea and Peter were now old enough to marry, it was just up to Peter to pop the big question.

Then that fateful day… the day when they came upon the lamppost and they trekked through the woods…. Only to disappear through a tunnel of fur coats.

“RHEA!” Tumnus cried, rushing to the balcony where Rhea was standing, waiting for the kings and queens to return. “Phillip just returned…. It’s not good!” Rhea felt her heart stop as she followed the fawn down to the courtyard where the horse, Phillip stood.

“Phillip,” Rhea said, rushing over to the chestnut horse and touching his snout. “Where are they?” “We were hunting, and they happened upon a lamppost…. Then they ran through the woods. Minutes later they hadn’t returned so I went to look for them…. but they were…. Gone….” Tumnus and the horse looked at Rhea for support for when the four kings and queens were gone, Rhea was the next nearest thing to ruler they had.

“Rhea?” The beavers inquired, waddling over. “What is it?” Rhea slowly began to shake, her face going pale, “They…. They went back…..” “Sh dear,” Mrs. Beaver said, rushing over to the girl to tap her leg gently. “We all knew this day would come….” “But why now?” Rhea whispered, covering her face to hide the tears springing to her eyes. “Why now?”

#Peter pevensie #pevensie #Peter pevensie x oc #narnia

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