#i am holding this goat man so tenderly in my hands

[dontheckinswear]

can’t believe that this chapter we got blushing leo with long hair AND a flower crown. like kuma sensei is catering to me specifically right now he’s so babygirl🧎

[julieloveupstead]

"You Are My Now and Forever" - Upstead

Description: My version of what could or might happen after the last scene from 8x16. I hope you enjoy it

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Events that had taken place only a few moments ago were blurring into one. I didn't know what was real and what was fake. I don't even remember by what miracle I managed to get home. Everything seemed so strange to me, as if all the movements were made by another person, I was just looking at it.

When I entered the apartment it was dark and which was ironic because that's exactly how I felt - as if the darkness had taken over me and I couldn't get out of it.

- Hey, I thought I'd meet you at the hospital - and as if out of nowhere Jay appeared, who like the light he'd just turned on in the living room made all the bad memories from an hour ago evaporate. In that moment, I realized for the first time how much of an influence Jay has on me. How much he has changed in my life and how much he means. All my life I didn't know what it meant to love, what it meant to be loved. I didn't have an example of a loving, supportive family at home. Affection, intimacy, loyalty, love, respect these adjectives were not used at home.

I saw that Jay was saying something, but what I couldn't focus on what he was saying. I just tried to nod, because all I had in my head was the thought that I couldn't let the only good thing in my life get screwed up. I have to, I want with all my might to hold on to him and what we have because what we have is so special and for the first time in my life I feel happy and safe. When I'm with him all that matters is the here and now. No work, no case to solve, no problems, no memories, and no mavens from tonight with Voight. It's just him and me. And that thought causes me to say:

- I love you. - stopping my boyfriend in half a step with this (6 months together and calling him a boy it still makes me feel amazing in my lower abdomen and disbelieve that this wonderful man is mine and most importantly wants to be mine)

- I love you too," he says surprised by my bravery, which even I am surprised by, because not long ago he had a panic attack at the sound of those 3 words.

This guy looks at me with such tenderness and love that I don't deserve, and certainly not after what I did today. I was beginning to barely see through the tears appearing in my eyes. I'm afraid it's the last time I'll hear those words out of his mouth and surely as soon as he hears about what happened in that warehouse in his eyes I'll see disappointment and that will mean my end. Feeling how much I wanted to keep him I let go of all the barriers, because in the end what else was left for me?

- You are so honest and I... - and I just wanted to feel accepted, loved and seen as valuable. Somehow I couldn't say the words out loud. I swallowed my saliva loudly at the memory of my childhood as my own father instilled in me that I deserved nothing, that I was just a worthless loser. And now that I finally felt that I was finally worth something to someone, worth loving, worth trusting, worth telling the biggest demons he was stewing inside and worth opening his heart once again, now I had to break something.

- Hey, hey, everything's going to work out with us too - the way he calmly and tenderly addressed me hurt me even more because he recognized my anxiety right away. It always surprises me how accurately he can read me as if from an open book, in fact I read him too.

- I don't want to be without you," I said with a fear that I was no longer able to mask. I can't live without him. Without it, all my demons will hit me with double or even triple force. Jay is the rock for me, the anchor of what I cannot survive without, he is my everything.

- You never will," he said with tears in his eyes and a slight smile of delight. This man surprised me all the time with how much love he had for me. I wish I could say or show how much I love him, but I fail every damn time. Maybe my father was right and I don't deserve any love?

- Maybe we should get married? - i was surprised by what I had just said, and so was Jay, and yet I really feltrything's going to work out with us too - the way he calmly and tenderly addressed me hurt me even more because he recognized my anxiety right away. It always surprises me how accurately he can read me as if from an open book, in fact I read him too.

- I don't want to be without you," I said with a fear that I was no longer able to mask. I can't live without him. Without it, all my demons will hit me with double or even triple force. Jay is the rock for me, the anchor of what I cannot survive without, he is my everything.

- You never will," he said with tears in his eyes and a slight smile of delight. This man surprised me all the time with how much love he had for me. I wish I could say or show how much I love him, but I fail every damn time. Maybe my father was right and I don't deserve any love?

- Maybe we should get married? - i was surprised by what I had just said, and so was Jay, and yet I really felt this is the right time. I don't want to lose him. I'm afraid of losing him. I could feel the panic starting to set in.

- I'm serious, let's get married," I repeated this time more confidently to reassure him that I wasn't joking.

- Honey," he smiled tenderly, and a single tear began to run down her cheek. His gaze showed nothing like love, his one hand went to my cheek and brushed it. The gesture caused me to let my eyes close and snuggle more into his warm and soft hand. - I would be honored to marry you, to call you my wife, to hear you call me husband from your lips. I can't wait for the day I see you in church in a beautiful white dress when we have a bunch of beautiful children. I love you so much that you can't even imagine and I can't imagine on this finger - with his other hand he lifted my right hand, with his finger he played with my heart finger and then he kissed it in the place where the ring and the wedding ring should be. And he looked at me again - I love you and I will never stop. Remember what I told you a few weeks ago? I'm not going anywhere, really anywhere. So tell me what's going on? What happened to make your beautiful head germinate with the thought that I might leave you? - throughout the monologue he spoke in a calm, quiet and monotonous voice that is reserved only for me. Jay always knows when something is bothering me and as of now he knows exactly what, well maybe almost. We are mentally connected and I never wanted it to end. More tears flowed down my cheeks as he gently wiped them away with his thumb. I pulled my nose, wondering how I was going to tell him all this.

- I can't tell you. I'm afraid you'll leave me, that you'll hate me, that... - my voice was breaking.

- Hey, Hailey, baby. It's never gonna happen. - said with tenderness and assurance. I closed my eyes again and thought once again of a goat's death and began to tell the story.

- Voight found Roy. He specifically sent us to the houses we were bouncing off the door, and he chose the right house himself, where he found information on where Roy was. After I dropped Adam off at Kim's house to take care of Makayla I followed Hank's trail and found him in the warehouse. - i paused to swallow my saliva, giving him a moment to calm down. Jay didn't say a word, just listened. I felt my legs no longer me and Jay guided me to the couch. I sat up and he planted me in his lap, cradling me tightly against his torso. To calm myself down a bit, I start playing with the fingers of his hand and continued on. - Walton was handcuffed to the pipe and Voight was beating him - I closed my eyes having the events described before my eyes. Jay must have started to suspect something because he pulled me tighter to him so that I was almost lying on top of him. - When Voight spotted me he pointed the gun in my direction - I could feel my defender's muscles toning I knew he remembered the story of the burglar when I was twelve and how he when not was in bad shape after a bout of PTSD set in and pointed a gun in my direction. He still blames himself for that and for what he said at the very beginning of our relationship about my father and my life. I forgave him a long time ago, and he hasn't forgiven himself. And how could I not love him, but going back - Jay I really tried to do everything right. I tried to reason with the Sergeant, but he was like he was in another world. Eyes full of murder, and zero emotion on his face. It was the first time I really saw Hank's resemblance to my father and it scared me so much. I thought I'd finally convinced him to keep Roy, that it could all still be explained. When Voight tried to unseat him Roy grabbed his gun - my breathing began to quicken, I closed my eyes - I thought Walton was going to shoot Voight. It was a good shot, I... no... i had a way out. It was a good shot.

- Those, come to me, sweetheart - when I started to cry Jay kissed my forehead and when I thought that you can't hug a man tighter, I was wrong. - Roy was unpredictable, he almost killed Kim and Kent and could have killed you and Voight. It was a good shot. Baby look at me - I did as he asked. He kissed my eye, then my eyes, then my nose and mouth. - It's not your fault, it's Voights you understand? He's got blood on his hands, not you. I love you and I will not let anyone hurt you. Hailey Anne Upton you are mine now and you will be my future and eternity you understand? - I looked into his eyes and became convinced that he really thinks so. I was overwhelmed by the love I get from him, I'm very lucky. I kissed him tenderly as if there was no tomorrow. I was unable to say how much I love him, or how grateful I am for his presence in my life, so I hoped a kiss would give it all away.

"I love you Jay," I put my forehead to his.

- I love you Hailey - this time he kissed me.

- As for my question ... - I started hesitantly, but Jay cut me off

- We will go back to this, you will see the engagement, it will be one of the most beautiful memories of our lives, of course, apart from the our wedding and the arrival of our children - he laughed tenderly and winked at me and I laughed and hugged more in my boyfriend, in my present and the future.

[thestarkerisobvious]

The Ghost Of Peter Parker

inspired by the amazing art work by @starker-sorbet​        

A snugglefic for @mrstarksbabyy​

With great thanks for the betaread by @mrstarksbabyy

It was a strange idea, that in March, Peter was still embarrassed by getting an erection around Tony.

Now, on the first day of April, Peter longed to worry about something so simple.

He clung to Tony’s neck, weeping in relief that he didn’t have to decide whether or not to kill Mr. Lovelace.  That decision had already been made by a scolding he had given Tony when he was 15.  He didn’t even know Tony had been listening. 

Tony held him close, not even feeding, rocking him and smoothing back his hair.  He sang very softly, something that might have been Portuguese.  But when he

 tried to kiss Peter’s tears away, Peter objected.

“Don’t take my sadness, I don’t want to forget this.  I need to remember what we’ve… what I’ve done.”

“There are many ripe berries on this bush, sweet Master.  Let me pic a few,” Tony murmured. 

For a while Peter thought he might never want to move.  He was being cradled in Tony’s arms like a baby, being held close, his face kissed.  But as time passed he began to feel silly, so he pushed his way out of Tony’s arms and wiped his face dry with the back of his hands.  “Okay, so killing him is out.  What are we going to do?” Peter asked calmly.

Letting Tony take the edge off his guilt and panic helped quite a bit, Peter realized, as he and Tony strategized, Peter leaning against Tony’s chest, Tony feeding from the vein in his wrist.

“There are at least 4 more cats in the barn, if you can catch them.  I think they know they’re food now…

“They cannot escape me,” Tony said, looking up from Peter’s wrist with an eerie smile.

“…and at least three owls in the barn, maybe four.  But they’re very small.  If I feed you now, and you get to them the moment it gets dark, is that enough for this?”

Tony shook his head and looked up, kissing Peter’s hand.  “I cannot tell,” he said, keeping his lips next to Peter’s fingers.  “First, give me permission to sleep in the ground if I must, and I will return to this room when I am able, but I may needs rest in the darkness for many nights.  Mayhap I may speak to you in dreams.  But if you feed me every night, the way you fed me at Mabon, it will suffice.”

Peter sighed.  “I’m going to have to join 4H and start raising goats, aren’t I?” he mused as Tony went back to sucking on his wrist.  “Wait that probably won’t work – I’d flunk 4H if all my goats mysteriously died.  Rabbits.  I’ll have to convince May and Ben we can really raise rabbits.  Then just act surprised when they turn up missing…”

Tony’s smile was unreadable.  His eyes wandered down Peter’s chest.  He lifted his mouth and he looked as if he were about to say something, but changed his mind, and returned to feeding.

“Look Mr. Lovelace killed his wife with his 44, that’s what Miss Drury said Missy said.  He has a 44, his gun from the army, a long hunting rifle he was taking walks with.  And we already know he can kill a dog from 40 feet away with the rifle  That’s how John Wickam’s dog died.  Mr. Lovelace denied it, but the Wickam’s saw it happen.  That man is crazy, but he’s a damn good shot.

“Miss Drury called Aunt May to let me know Missy was okay.  She was surprised that I didn’t know about it… Miss Drury is, I mean.  Missy said she saw me last night.  She said I didn’t even talk to her, but pointed her to the road she was to meet Miss Drury on.  When she said she was scared to walk down it I held her hand until we saw Miss Drury’s Rabbit’s headlights.  She said I must have been sleepwalking because I never spoke.  Miss Drury said it must have been her guardian angel.  All I know is Aunt May spent the next 20 minutes explaining how no one in our family sleepwalks…”

Tony licked a long, slow stripe up Peter’s wrist, then kissed it tenderly, meaning he was finished feeding.  Then he turned and looked into Peter’s eyes, bringing their foreheads together.

“You told me to take her fear.  You told me to consume it completely.” 

“It was you?”

“She fled to Chimney Hill.  She has no fear of that place.  She has forgotten the story of Tom Dylan, but she remembers that Laura Foster once lived on Chimney Hill.  Then, from the hill to the dead oak, and from the oak to the lake, there was full moonlight.  She no longer fears darkness.  But past the lake, under the trees, she was blind.  She was afraid.  I took it all.  But when she came in sight of the house, she feared to pass.  She still fears the house.  I met her at the path to point her the way.  I knew what you wished.  I showed her nothing frightening.  I showed her you.   

“But she would not take the road east.  She said she was too afraid.  She asked if I was the ghost of you.  But when I smiled at her, and held her hand.  My hand was warm.  She came with me down the road.  Pardon, Master, I know you do not wish her to wish to hold your hand…”

Peter took Tony’s face in both hands and kissed him.  A real kiss, without feeding.  Tony did nothing, at first.  Only opened his mouth a little bit, tilting his head a little bit until Peter let him go.

“Thank you,” was all Peter said.  It was all he could think to say.

“I have served you well,” Tony whispered, and now his long arms were wrapping around Peter and Peter relaxed against his shoulder as Tony kissed his face.  This was normal Tony-behavior, and Peter gave himself a moment to enjoy it.

“I will serve you most masterfully tonight, and you shall make me your beloved.  You shall see all my skill.  If an enemy of the family meets me in battle, the seals of Evorá, what is left of them, will feed me.  I shall make him lay down where he stands, even in the middle of the road, he shall not rise until morning…”

“Wait, that doesn’t sound good.  Isn’t that what you did to the pigs?  When you made them lay down and die?”

“They laid down and died because I ate them.”

Peter shivered a little at Tony’s wicked smile.  He knew he had to be very specific, now.  He knew Tony was proud of his work.

“Well, don’t make him lay down in the middle of the road, he might get run over.  What else can you do?

Tony ran a strong hand over Peter’s thigh, and then over his calf.  Peter might have relaxed and enjoyed the touch under different circumstances.

“These… these are still called muscles?  And what is this now called,” he said, his fingers tracing over Peter’s knee.  It was a lovely feeling, and Peter made a mental note to get Tony to touch him there again when it was all over.

“The cartlidge?”

“The sinew, that which is not meat,” he indicated “meat” by firmly stroking Peter’s calf muscles again.  “The sinew that connects the muscles to each other…”

“The ligaments?” 

“There is light in these,” Tony explained, stroking Peter’s calf muscle with a firm but gentle hand.  “When that light is gone, a man is not inclined to walk very far.  And when the light is gone from this,” he stroked his hand under Peter’s knee, indicating the ligament.  “A man is not inclined to move it at all.  Although Mr. Lovelace is a man accustomed to a great deal of pain.  That alone might not dissuade him.”

“I can take the light from the bone, but if I do, a man will surely die.”

“Don’t do that.  And don’t make him lay down somewhere dangerous, like in the road or something.  Wait, if you did that to his arms, could he use his arms?  It’s important he not be able to shoot.  Can you make his arms not move?  If he couldn’t shoot, that would be something.  He’s still huge though…”

Tony moved his hands and, slipping them into the small place between their bodies, placed both on Peter’s chest. 

“There are two of these,” Tony said, caressing Peter’s chest in a way that was very distracting, even under the circumstances.  “When the light is gone from one,” he whispered, moving one hand away and leaving the other in place,” a man is not inclined to walk very far.”

“What… you mean the lungs?”

“And there are two of these,” Tony said, sounding almost hungry.  He moved his hands and placed them firmly on the Peter’s lower back, indicating, Peter assumed, his kidneys.

“When the light is gone from one, a man is not inclined to do anything.”

“But… you mean… for a while, right?  The light comes back, doesn’t it?”

Tony looked disappointed.  “That is tricky work, but it can be done.”

“Tony, can you make Aunt May be not-so scared?”

Tony smiled sadly.  He looked down at Peter’s chest again, even reached out to stroke Peter’s chest with his knuckles, directly under his left nipple, but he never said why.

“If I could be two places at one time, yes,” he said with a wry smile.  “But I am no longer that strong.”

Peter and May stayed up all night playing yahtzee and dominoes, finally sitting down to watch TV.  For a while Uncle Ben sat in the car with his rifle, while Peter walked back and forth each hour to wake him up.  Finally it was agreed that the whole family would be safer in the house.  A tearful Aunt May complained that they left New York City because of the violence.  She apologized to Peter, who only smiled, threw up his hands and attributed it to “fate.”   

May and Ben discussed how miserable Peter had been when they first moved to Devil’s Holler, how he had cried almost every day for weeks.  Peter tried to keep up his end of the conversation, but, in truth, he was wondering if Missy’s life would have been better, or worse, without him.  At least the girl got to walk down a gravel road in the moonlight, holding Peter Parker’s hand.  He wondered why Tony could make the girl forget about Tom Dylan, but not about Laura Foster.

In the early morning hours both May and Ben fell asleep on the couch, allowing Peter to watch more interesting shows on their late-night channels, his eyes wide.  He was wondering how he could wake up in the middle of the night to enjoy these shows in private when he heard something at the door.  

He opened the door without hesitation to let Tony in.  “Good job,” he whispered.  The vaguely kitten-shaped bundle of fur made a small, vaguely catlike noise before dissolving into smoke and disappearing into the floor.  Then he took his place back on the couch in front of the television.  He knew there was no point in telling May and Ben to go to bed, even though he knew the danger was over.  So he spent the rest of the night combing through old TV guides, looking for more information about the shows he was probably to chicken to watch.

It was amazing, what they could get away with on HBO.

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Master Post (not THAT Master Post, the big list)

as always please direct comments, questions and constructive crit to @witchwayisright.  

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Runaway Lovers: Eternity

Due to popular demand, I have for you a 2nd part to Runaway Lovers. Be sure to read it first or you may be kinda confused. 

It’s sorter than the first part, but hopefully it’s okay. 

Words:  3070

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sex (pregnancy sex to be specific), cursing, hand job, lots of naughty talk, very sweet and loving Bakugou

Please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will not be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

The heat of the sun was not something that Bakugou was exactly unfamiliar with, but after spending years as a servant that worked primarily inside doing low impact work, it was definitely more difficult to get used to than he expected. He did have to admit that the hours spent outside doing basic farming duties was more enjoyable than standing outside of a door for hours on end, unable to even move to scratch his nose. But, it wasn’t just the work that made him feel better. It was more of a feeling of finally being free, to do and live however he wanted. There was the limitation of his lovers comfort, of course, but he found himself more than just content. He was truly, very happy. 

The road to now hadn’t been easy, however. Running away from the palace with his lover in tow had been a dangerous affair, especially with her being so inexperienced about the world beyond the palace walls. She had a vision in her mind, a dream of a cute little cottage at the edge of a forest, with plenty of land for farming and creating a life of self sustainability. Nothing is as easy as a dream, however, and she was very quick to learn that. It took them nearly five months of travel, running from warriors searching for them, and then the process of building their home until they were finally settled. 

Now, nearly a year after they had fled pampered palace life to be together, everything was as perfect as it could be. They had plenty of money, from what they had stolen from her father, and weren’t in any danger of food shortage. Luckily for them, they had found a man wanting to sell his farmland, which had always been fertile. It was in a safe area, near a forest for hunting and even with a lake only half a days horse ride away. It truly seemed like everything had worked out perfectly for them. 

Now, it was nearly reaching midday, the sun was at its highest point and with not a cloud in the sky to disturb it, the heat beat down on Bakugou like a tangible object. With a heavy sigh, Bakugou stabbed his shovel into the ground, taking a moment to use a rag to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. He had already stripped himself of his shirt, finding that it helped keep him cool while he worked to place posts for a new fence. They had come to the decision that having a couple of pigs to breed for food would be a good choice, as would some goats for their milk. He was more than halfway done with the fence, but at this point, it seemed like it would never end. 

He barely noticed the sound of an approaching horse, only becoming aware of its presence when it was paired with his lovers soft voice. 

“The fence is looking really great, Katsuki.” 

Looking behind him, he first glanced over his lovers small bay mare before looking up at the smiling woman that rode her, her face covered with a shadow from her straw hat. Leaving his shovel in the ground, Bakugou took another moment to wipe his face before approaching the horse, shoving the rag into his pocket. “It’s getting there. Out for your ride?” 

“No, not really, I just wanted to come and check on you. It’s so hot today, I was a bit worried.” 

“You can see me from the house, can’t you?” Bakugou ran his hand down the length of the horses neck, before letting his hand rest on his lovers thigh. “You know I worry about you getting on a horse by yourself right now.” He caressed her swollen stomach gently, to which his lover gave a small shake of her head and placed her hand over his. 

“I’m okay, Katsuki. I think I have a few more weeks before I can’t manage to get up on a horse anymore.” 

“I’m not worried about that. What if something spooks her and she throws you or you slip while trying to climb on.” 

“I don’t think anything could spook this horse, she barely moves as it is.” The runaway princess smiled down at him, her cheeks flushing pink from his sweet concern. “Why don’t you come back up to the house with me for a little break?” 

Bakugou nodded, making sure there would be enough room for the two of them before he pulled himself up onto the horse behind his lover, letting her squish herself back against him once they were settled. He was sure to give her plenty of room, but he couldn’t resist the chance to pick on her a bit as the horse began to meander its way back to the house. “You’re getting a little too fat for this.” 

Giggling, she removed her hat, leaning her head back on his shoulder to look up at him. “Am I? And who’s fault is that?” 

“Yours.” Bakugou caressed her chin softy, tilting her head just a bit to place a kiss on her lips. “For being so damn beautiful.” 

She returned his affection, bringing her hat up to place it onto his head, squishing his fluffy blonde locks in an adorable way. “No, it's yours. For making me love you so much. This hat looks good on you.” 

“I’ll have to disagree with you on that. I fucking hate hats.” Still he allowed it to sit where she had placed it, finding that there wasn’t much of a point in removing it. The way she looked at him like he was the cutest thing in the world was worth the uncomfortable feeling of his hair being squished from all directions. 

Since she had hold of the reigns, his hands were free to wander, one holding her hip while the other slid forward to stroke her belly. She had just hit the five month mark of being with child, and getting pregnant had been harder than they had originally figured. There was a time where they worried that one of them might just be infertile, but after the stress of running away and hiding had passed, she became pregnant only a few weeks after moving into their home. They were both over the moon, though Bakugou still couldn’t help but worry. 

Where they had settled, there wasn’t a doctor around for miles. If anything went wrong, he was the only one who would be able to do anything about it, and he was unsure of his ability to do so. At this point, everything had gone smoothly, and he was sure to not let her overwork herself for any reason. She complained about it quite a bit at first, but she was quick to understand his worries and was willing to listen to them. It had doubled the work he had to do, but he never once complained about it. He would do anything for her and their unborn child, and he had proved that every step of the way. 

Reaching the stables, Bakugou hopped off the horse first before helping his lover get down carefully. Once he was sure she was steady on her feet, he removed the hat from his head, plopping it back down onto hers. Knowing they would be taking the horse back out to the field once his little break was over, he simply tethered her to a post, leaving her to graze on the grass around the stables. 

“I’ve got some fresh water ready for you,” the woman beside him spoke softly, beginning to make her way into the house. “And I’ve cut up some fruits and bread. I figured you would be hungry.” 

Bakugou followed her, stopping at the door to remove his filthy shoes as to not bring dirt and dust into the home. “I am. Thanks.” Shutting the door behind him once inside, Bakugou flopped to sit at a wooden table near the kitchen area, chugging down quite a bit of water the instant his eyes landed on the cup. “Damn, that water is good. It’s from the new well?” 

“Mhmm.” His lover nodded as she submerged a rag into a bowl of water, the purpose not quite clear to Bakugou as he began to eat the food that was placed out for him. “It’s really clean and fresh. I still boiled it, of course, and let it cool back down. Now it’s perfect.” 

“It’s great, babe. Thank you.” Bakugou took another moment to drink, watching his lover out of the corner of his eye as she approached with the rag. With a gentle touch, she began to sweep the wet cloth over his skin, cleaning him of grime and cooling him. The droplets of water that ran down his sun soaked skin made him shiver a bit, the warmth of his body only making the water feel colder. 

She worked with a gentle touch, being sure to not miss a single inch of his back. “How’s that?” 

“Just what I needed.” He leaned his head back a bit as she brought the cloth around to run it across his neck, her lips pressing softly against his cheek. She left him only for a moment to clean the rag and get fresh water, before she returned to instead focus on the front of his body. Since he was sitting on a stool, she was able to lean her body against his back, reaching over his shoulder to tenderly clean his toned torso. 

Bakugou wasn’t sure how sensual she had meant this to be, if she had wanted it to be at all, but her hands on him sent the heat in his skin flushing through his entire body. He could feel her breasts pressing against him with every breath, which rolled down along his neck. If he weren't so entranced with what she was doing to him, he would scoop her up and take her to bed that instant. He feared interrupting her, as he was more than just a little curious to see where this would end up going. 

“You know, Katsuki,” She spoke softly, her voice making his skin tingle. “Ever since we’ve gotten out here, I think you’ve gotten a lot stronger. You were always built so beautifully, but it’s way more noticeable now.” 

“Think so?” Bakugou couldn’t resist the smirk that crossed his lips, watching her hand as it slid the cloth along his lower stomach. It was true, he had bulked up more with the constant physical activity, and this was the first time she really mentioned it. “Do you like that, then?” 

“I love it. I… want to touch you all the time. Lately you’ve been so tired, though, I haven’t really had the courage to act on what I want. But today, sitting here all alone, watching you through the window… I just couldn’t keep it to myself.” 

Bakugou chuckled, turning his head a bit to catch her gaze. “You know damn well I’d let you, even if I am exhausted. How long have you been planning this?” 

“Ah, I just got the idea yesterday,” She kissed him softly, abandoning the cloth on his lap in favor of running her hands along his skin instead. “And I know that you would… but what’s the fun if you’re not fully awake?” Her hand slid down his stomach, beginning to lightly palm his hardened member beneath his pants. Just as always, she was blunt and straight to the point. Ever since their first time back at the palace, she had never shown an inch of embarrassment or shyness when it came to her sexual desires for him and he loved that. Sure, he knew how to make her embarrassed and flush when he felt like it, but her eagerness to touch and have him turned him on even more. 

“I can’t say I disagree. Though, I seriously think being pregnant has doubled how much you want to fuck. Just this morning I was barely awake before you were on top of me.” Bakugou allowed her to continue, watching as she unbuttoned his pants. Though, her giggle surprised him, feeling his ears flush as she used the still wet rag on and around his member. “Hey, I’m not that dirty there!” 

“But you are,” she kissed his cheek softly, trailing them down along his neck. “My dirty Katsuki.” Bakugou couldn’t resist a soft hiss as she moved further between his legs, squeezing and caressing his balls as she ‘cleaned’ them. He knew it was just a way for her to tease him, to get him really worked up and just how she liked him to be. As she massaged with one hand, the other came down to hold his member, stroking him slowly but with a firm grip. 

With a choked groan, Bakugou laid his head back a bit, closing his eyes as he soaked in the pleasure. “Holy fuck… Damn it, [Name].” 

“What? Does that feel good, Katsuki?” Her soft and alluring voice along with the pleasure was beginning to make his blood boil with passion. 

“Yes…” 

“What does it make you want to do?” The longer her teasing went on, the more she increased the pleasure for him, until he was nearly unable to sit still. It was frustrating him, his need for pleasure bringing out a boiling rage within him that could only be smothered by digging his cock into her.  

“It makes me want to fuck your goddamn brains out.”  

“Is that what you want? To watch my eyes roll back in my head… to hear me scream and moan your name?” She nibbled at the skin of his neck softly, only making the fire within him hotter. 

He couldn’t take it.

With a simple shifting of his shoulders, he was able to get her to release him, though she did make a small squeak of confusion. Before she could ask or say another word, he pushed the plate of food and empty cup haphazardly out of the way, pulling her around to his front. Still conscious of her pregnant body, he picked her up and sat her down onto the table before kissing her feverishly. As she kissed him, she worked to strip herself of clothing that would be in the way, and since she was just in a light summer dress, there wasn’t much to discard. 

The table was up high enough to where Bakugou could stand and his hips be perfectly aligned with hers. So, tugging her forward, he took no time in sinking his cock into her wet and waiting pussy. A sharp moan broke their kiss as she held onto his shoulders tightly, her legs around his waist as he thrust into her. He couldn’t resist smirking against her lips as she was already completely lost in the pleasure, barely able to keep eye contact with him. “Is this what you wanted, huh? My little cock hungry slut--” He pushed her body down onto the table, pausing his thrusts just for a moment so he could tug the front of her dress apart. Buttons snapping loose and fleeing the scene, her engorged breasts were set free, bouncing with his movements once he began again. 

“Y-Yes, Katsuki! This is what I wanted--” She gripped onto her own breasts, squeezing and teasing her nipples. “It just feels so good!” 

The wooden table beneath them creaked from the abuse, but any sounds were swallowed by her sweet moans before they every reached Bakugou’s ears. She was so flawlessly attractive to him, every expression and movement of her body only fueling the fire within him. He loved to see her like this, to know that he would be the only man to ever make her feel so good. She belonged to him, completely and eternally, and the ring on her left ring finger was what solidified it. His entire life he thought that she was just a dream, that there was nothing in the world that would allow him this close to her. Now, she was his entire reality, his reason for existing and nothing but death could keep him away. 

“A-ah, Katsuki!” She squeaked, her eyes teary with the pleasure. “Please, don’t stop!” Even without her begging, that wasn’t something he would be able to do. He was so close to finishing, and he could feel that she was as well. Increasing the speed of his thrusts, he gripped her neck with one hand, squeezing with just a slight amount of pressure. 

“That’s it… Come on--” Bakugou didn’t stop, not until she gripped onto his arm tightly, her body arching as she came hard, squeezing his cock so fiercely that he couldn't hold himself back. With erratic thrusts and digging himself deeply inside her, he released, filling her with his hot cum. For a moment, he found himself lost in the fuzzy haze of pleasure that came with release, always finding that it felt even more amazing when they finished together. She was still squeezing and pulsing around him, her entire body trembling with the aftermath of such a powerful orgasm. 

Like always, he had to marvel in her beauty, her skin flushed and glowing, eyes sparkling with pleasured tears. And now, as she smiled at him, his heart fluttered violently. Lustful haze evaporating, he carefully leaned over her, moving her hair aside to kiss her softly. She returned the affection, running her fingers through his hair gently and holding him with a tender embrace. Bakugou could have stayed like this forever, connected to his lover and exchanging soft kisses for eternity. 

“I love you, Katsuki.” She spoke softly once their lips parted, softly stroking his cheek. “I’m so happy we did this…” 

“Did what? Fuck on the table?” 

“No,” She giggled, nuzzling her nose against his. “That we decided to run away… and have a family together. I… know it’s been hard to adjust. For both of us… but I feel like we’re finally on the right track.” 

“We are, [Name]. I’ve dreamed of being with you for so long that sometimes things like this don’t even seem… real.” 

“Well it is real, my love.” She kissed him once again, refusing to let him go. “And we have an eternity to be together. I love you so much.” 

“And I love you, [Name]. For eternity.”

[mortuarybees]

do u have any more good omens fic recs?

oh boy do i. some of them are fics that i have included in my fic rec tag so if you’ve been in that bear with me there will also be others. basically my preferred and only accepted genre of anything is “unbearably tender” and “aziraphale is extremely neurotic and crowley loves him anyway” it’s therapeutic

at some point im going to update the original reference post with like. all the amazing content ive come across since making it but until then:

one may tolerate a world of demons for the sake of an angel by lumosity aka @femmeaziraphale aka my very best friend

they have started another fic intended to destroy my life in which hell wins the next round and divines a special torment for crowley pls read it and encourage them to finish it because they don’t believe me when i tell them it’s amazing and i am  d e s p e r a t e  for more.

 “You know, you’re very familiar,” Aziraphale said, breath stinking of the sweet wine.

 “Oh? I guess I look like many goat herders,” Crowley allowed. Aziraphale snorted, nudging Crowley’s shoulder clumsily.

 “No! I mean that you just seem like someone I’ve known before,” Aziraphale said. Crowley felt that familiar ache in his chest. Suddenly he wished he was sober.

 “I have a common face,” Crowley dodged.

 “Say whatever you like, but I feel like we fit together quite nicely,” Aziraphale said, resting his head against the bark of the tree. Crowley took the opportunity to watch Aziraphale while he had his eyes closed. There were the same old blonde eyelashes against his cheeks, the one little drop of sunlight that formed a mole at the corner of his eye. Crowley wished to kiss his cheek only once. An apology for not losing. For not giving Aziraphale an eternity of listening to celestial harmonies.

wings and how to hide them by triedunture

Crowley's been annoyingly in love for six thousand years. What's another lifetime between friends? // if you follow me you’ve probably seen me post or quote certain excerpts a million times you may recognize it as His Body Is A Place And It’s Filled With Love.

He swallowed. So bloody awkward, staring up at Aziraphale like this, having his face held. Was he supposed to maintain eye contact? It seemed impossible. His gaze darted away.

"Keep your eyes fixed on me," Aziraphale admonished, giving his cheek a little pat. "Try to imagine, I don't know...slipping into my body the way you'd slip into a new coat." His smile was weak.

Crowley made a face. "Sounds grotesque."

"It isn't! Come now." His voice and eyes softened. "Please. Try."

Deep breath in. He would try. For Aziraphale's sake. "All right." He opened his eyes, held Aziraphale's plaintive stare, and pictured how it would feel. To be a part of Aziraphale. To be held inside him, to surround him at the same time.

To be loved.

hand in unlovable hand by courfeyrock (les mis solidarity)

“Goodnight, my dear,” he says, and Crowley swears, Aziraphale could call him my dear for six thousand more years and he still wouldn’t be able to get used to it. // it’s tender it’s bed sharing it’s “i love you in the human way” it’s quoting that unspeakable broadchurch scene its title is from no children by tmg; in short, it’s specifically designed to torment me.

Crowley’s head snaps around as if on a swivel. “Shall we… what?”

“Go to sleep? Normally I would love to stay up and have a drink or a chat but you see I really am exhausted and I--”

“Yes, yes, of course.”  Idiot,  Crowley thinks.  I am such an idiot.  "I'll uh, I'll sleep underneath the covers, and you can sleep on top." He waves his hand in a forcefully casual gesture that he hopes conveys just how normal it is for two platonic friends to be having this conversation.

everything just stops by witching

they are drunk and crowley wants to take a bath so he miracles one and they have. the most unbearable conversation ever fucking put to fiction literally returning to it to select one single quote was nearly impossible for me emotionally. god the tenderness the yearning!!!! “i like your silly aziraphale things”!!!!!!!!!! “i love you deep, angel”!!!!!! i hate it! just read it please i cant actually keep describing it or i’ll have to lay down for a little while.

 “Are you –” the angel’s voice was hoarse, and he paused to clear his throat, “are you playing some sort of game right now?”[....]

“I am not,” Crowley whispered fervently, his face frighteningly close to Aziraphale’s. “Six thousand yearsss, angel. You’re a part of me, and I jussst – just wanted you to know, is all.”

 Without warning, Aziraphale reached with both hands to pull Crowley in closer, forcing him to drop his own hand from the angel’s face. Aziraphale held him gently, pressing a single chaste kiss to the demon’s forehead, his lips lingering as his thumbs slid tenderly along his cheekbones, his fingers wrapped up in dark, dripping hair.

 When Crowley responded not by recoiling, as Aziraphale had expected, but by melting against his skin and sighing contentedly, the angel placed another kiss on one cheek, then the other. He moved to kiss Crowley’s eyelids, his jawline, his chin, the corners of his mouth, all the time cradling Crowley’s head in his hands, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Crowley to rebuff his affection.

Crowley, ever one to defy expectations, continued to allow the angel to kiss his face to his heart’s content. It was only when he heard Crowley sniff and let out a pitiful whimper that he pulled back, looking at the demon with concern.

hard feelings/loveless by witching

Aziraphale said it was like the opposite of the feeling you’re having when you say things like “this feels spooky.” Crowley didn’t know what to make of that, but he expected it was something like the opposite of the feeling you get when the only person who truly knows you makes a cryptic remark suggesting that you can’t understand love. Crowley understood love all too well. // crowley. crowley can’t sense love bc he is so goddamn full of love that he can’t see past it he’s just so full of it that he can’t separate it from just how he always is  c r o w l e y. also angelic/demonic mindmelding.

“What about - I mean, if that’s… love,” he struggled to get the word out, “then what’s this other feeling? The one that I’ve been calling love for all this time?”

 “I don’t know,” Aziraphale said. “I can’t possibly imagine.” He didn't have to voice his surprise at the fact that Crowley had an emotion he called love. It wasn't that he had truly thought Crowley was incapable of such an emotion; he was deeply aware of the power and range of the demon's feelings. He simply hadn't thought that Crowley was in tune with his own mind enough to understand it in those terms.

 “Can I show you?” Crowley blurted without thinking.

come as you are by punkfaery (explicit; trigger warning for body dysmorphia and disordered eating)

Aziraphale visits a modern art gallery, goes on a diet, and submits to the mortifying ordeal of being known. Not necessarily in that order. // this mugged me in an alleyway and ruined me emotionally for a whole night but like whatever. it starts with a mary oliver quote so idk what i expected

He dragged a kitchen chair out and sat in it, looking like he wanted to set fire to things with the power of his mind. He was probably angry enough to try it, too. Aziraphale moved a nearby copy of The Earth Compels out of the way, just in case. “It wasn’t really because of him,” he said. “It just made me realise, that’s all.”

“Realise what?”

Aziraphale swallowed. “That I’m not… quite as I should be. That you deserve better.” He lowered his head, feeling wretched. “That’s all. I’m sorry I didn’t say something from the start, but it seemed like a difficult sort of thing to bring up.”

Crowley’s face was indescribable.

“You thought I’d stop liking you because you’re not thin,” he said. His voice was utterly toneless. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

“Well, naturally when you say it like that it sounds – ”

“Seriously? After six thousand years of, of whatever you want to call this? After we literally saved the fucking world together?”

salinity (and other measurements of brackish water) by drawlight

It's an odd thing, getting on after the End of the World. Crowley takes to sea-watching. // michael sheen has read and recommended it. god. it starts with a quote from eros the bittersweet. it took me a full half hour to read past the first paragraph or so it’s so Much.

"I want to see you cook." (Something made from his hands. Something purely Crowley. Nothing pulled from the ether. Nothing sourced and given, no. Something made from his hands.)

He looks at his hands. Holds them up, splays them against the shale backdrop of his ceiling. His hands are always the same, day to day. They are clean but stained. His long and dawdling fingers, his bit of knuckles, his veins and tendons beginning to show a little more. Yes, more, he doesn't know the age of his body but he keeps it somewhere here, at indeterminate forty. There is a hangnail on the ring finger, there are stains of belladonna on the sides, on the rough spots.

Belladonna, that green plant sick with chlorophyll, sick with poison. Crowley is a gardener and he grows belladonna in his bedroom. He knows poisons the way Aziraphale knows the Dewey Decimal System. Yes, he knows them intimately, bent over his long counter, pulling the leaves apart, peeling the stems. Crushing the seeds. He knows not to lick his fingers after, that the leaves and berries are toxic to a grown man, that maybe even Livia had used it once, dripped into Augustus' wine. Not, really, that poisons would  matter  . It’s one of those little perks of the demon gig, that whole  immortality thing. What can get at him; what can cut it short? Only holy water and other blessed things. (Aziraphale is an angel, made out of blessed things. Crowley does not know how it might be to kiss him, mouth to wet mouth. If holy water might burn him, what can he expect from the freshwater mouth of an angel?)

birds of a feather by idiopathicsmile

Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals. // look....im weak for home decorating as proxy or metaphor for domesticity and familiarity and this trope is literally this. i die

“Demons definitely don’t court,” says Crowley. “They fuck sometimes, but it’s—I don’t know if you’ve ever seen anything about the mating practices of insects but it’s more—like that. There’s no guarantee all parties will come out in one piece. Never seemed worth it, frankly. I like my pieces where they are.”

Aziraphale takes this all in with a series of slow, horrified nods.

“Wait,” says Crowley, “what do angels do?” He’s never pictured angels engaging with each other at all, outside of maybe mandatory team-building exercises.

“They nest,” says Aziraphale.

Crowley waits for this to all make sense. “What, instead of fucking?”

“No,” says Aziraphale primly. “Not  instead. It’s—it’s part of the courtship ritual. You have to be able to build a decent nest if you want to be seen as a viable mate—”

“Like birds,” Crowley repeats, disbelieving.

“Not like birds, birds got it from us,” shrills Aziraphale.

men have gone to heaven for smaller things than that by mercuryhatter

Aziraphale finds an age slipping away from him. // aziraphale and crowley attend robbie ross’ funeral, and aziraphale mourns the loss of the old circle. also there’s some brief dunking on bosie. i adore this fic with my whole heart

“Listen.” Aziraphale took Crowley’s elbow and dragged him out of earshot of the funeral, releasing him under a nearby tree. “It’s not that I’m not glad you’re back. Remember that, because I’m about to be very short with you, but it’s not that.” He raised an eyebrow questioningly and Crowley nodded.

“That being said.” Aziraphale took a deep breath. His voice was shaking slightly and he tried to press it back to steadiness inside his throat. “You will not get near one more human under my charge this decade, are we clear?”

“Angel–” Crowley started, surprised, but Aziraphale cut him off. Fury was bubbling up inside of him, bright and brittle and with a deeply-buried thread of exhaustion that he couldn’t afford to think too long about.

“No.”

where you stay i will stay by mercuryhatter

at the hundred guineas club, men went under women’s names. aziraphale went by naomi and he paid! to keep ruth free! for crowley!!!! while crowley slept! it stopped my tender heart

“Let’s see. We all know Victoria, of course. Betsey, Henrietta, Georgiana, Chastity, that’s rich, and Temperance too, particular friends of each other, I imagine? A few Elizabeths, not particularly creative… oh.” Crowley nudged Aziraphale until he peeked up from his place hidden in Crowley’s sweater. “Aziraphale.”

“No, dear, I didn’t put that one down.” Crowley huffed in fond exasperation.

“No, honey, you put Naomi.”

“So I did.”

“And… I don’t see a Ruth.”

“No,” Aziraphale sighed. “No, I paid them an extra hundred pounds a year to hold that one for me.”

“For you or for…”

and this isn’t a fic but another essay that means the world to me, making an effort: queer (trans) masculinity in the ethereal & occult beings of good omens by elegantidler and irisbleufic

[this-is-a-love-story-fleabag]

Strangers in the Night

Something a little different before I post the last chapter of the Good Place AU.

Fleabag/Priest. 2393 words, one-shot. Also on ao3.

Masquerade ball. You're not allowed to show your face or tell anyone your name. It's very intense. It's very, very *erotic*.

Across a crowded room, the priest and the libertine make eye contact, and time stops for just a moment.

Masquerade ball. You're not allowed to show your face or tell anyone your name. It's very intense. It's very, very erotic.

Across a crowded room, the priest and the libertine make eye contact, and time stops for just a moment.

He looks away, down at the drink in his hands, clears his throat uncomfortably, but, despite himself, is compelled to raise his gaze once more. She turns up a corner of her painted mouth into a knowing smirk, then allows herself to be drawn away into conversation. He looks at her back for a long, helpless eternity, the deep plunge of her sequinned red dress drawing his eye, only to look hurriedly away when she sends him a genuine smile over her shoulder. She feels his eyes on her and stands a little straighter, smiles a little warmer, plans how to make her approach.

They work their way around the room separately, exchanging glances more often than not. She shines like a blood moon, beautiful and foreboding in equal measure, and the idea of falling into her orbit sends a thrill of fear down his spine.

The ballroom is ornate and ancient, exactly the kind of place you would imagine for a masquerade. The nameless, faceless ladies and gentlemen talk in hushed whispers as the band plays a slow waltz, a few couples here and there, twirling together to the rhythm like leaves caught in the wind. The stately home they are standing in is enormous and probably haunted, with endless corridors and hunting trophies leering from every wall. He feels absolutely out of place here, but with the anonymity of the mask, there's no way for the crowd to know. He could be anyone.

He's heartened by this thought and drains his drink, reaching for another just to have something to do with his hands.

"Hello," says a voice in his ear, and he drops the glass.

"Fuck!" he exclaims, kneeling down to start clearing up the broken glass, then "Fuck!" once again as he cuts himself.

"Jesus," she says, kneeling down to help him, holding a tissue from her purse to his wounds. He startles when he looks up into a pair of inviting brown eyes, all the more captivating up close.

"Hello," he breathes. She smirks.

"Do you think champagne has enough alcohol in it to sterilise a wound?" she asks, dabbing at his bleeding hand.

"Uh." He shakes his head to clear it, the strange stillness of the evening and the sight of his own blood making him feel disorientated. "Probably not?"

"Thought not," she says flatly, rising to her feet and beckoning for him to follow, as a member of staff bustles up with a dustpan to deal with the debris.

As if in a trance, he follows her through the maze of strange corridors to an old kitchen - flagstone floor, Aga, and everything. She finds a clean cloth in a drawer and wets it under the tap, then, with sure hands, cleans the cuts on his fingers, illuminated by the unearthly moonlight through the window.

"It's nice of you to do this," he says, keeping watch as she tenderly ministers to his hand.

She shoots him a wry smile, her eyes expressive even behind the mask. "The least I could do, considering it's my fault."

"I don't know, it might have been divine intervention." He hisses as she removes a sliver of glass from his finger and she winces in sympathy.

"Are you saying that God hates champagne?" Having finished her ministrations on his hand, she continues to hold it, rubbing a deliberate caress into his skin, then bends to press a gentle kiss onto the palm, thrillingly intimate.

"He's more of, uh, a red wine kind of guy, I think," he stammers. He takes a deep breath to steady himself as she looks up at him through her eyelashes. "We should probably get back to the-"

"Yeah." Chivalrously, she offers him her arm, and he takes hold of it, trying hard not to feel like a damsel in distress. They make their way back towards the bright light and the hubbub of voices spilling out of the great hall, his fingers hot against her arm like a brand.

"What brings you here tonight?" he asks politely as they apply themselves to the buffet table, glad to be back in public and safe from his own impulses. "Ooh, olives! I love olives, I never get olives."

"I made the food," she grins, picking up a mini quiche. "Might as well get to eat it. You?"

"It's a good charity to support, and I guess I'm just really fucking lonely." He shoves three olives into his mouth at once to prevent himself from saying anything else embarrassing.

"Not the best way to make life-long friendships, since we're not allowed to share our names."

He swallows heavily. "Sometimes it's nice not to be-"

"Yourself?" She understands this, more than it is possible to articulate.

"Yeah." The silence between them is comfortable, intimate. It should be strange, sharing conversation and standing so close, but things that happen at night always feel strange, the moonlight glazing everything with unfamiliarity.

"May I have this dance?" she asks after a while, with a decorous and only mildly sarcastic half-bow.

"Oh, I don't dance," he demurs, waving his hands and scrunching up his nose.

"Even with your guardian angel?"

"Oh, no, no, no," he chuckles, shaking his head. "I don't think you're an angel."

"You don't strike me as an expert on angels."

"I could be a priest for all you know."

She lets out an incredulous peal of laughter. "Priests don't swear like you do."

"Oh, so now you're an expert on priests-"

"I'd recognise that pair of legs anywhere," booms a voice, cutting into their conversation. The voice is attached to a handsome fellow, rather nicely filling out an expensive suit. He greets her with a kiss on the cheek and slides his arm around to rest a hand on her arse. "Might I have this dance, m'lady?" he asks with the confidence of a man with no doubt what the answer will be.

The priest tugs at his own bow tie uncomfortably, the collar of his crisp, new shirt suddenly feeling itchy and tight, and his lips quirk into an uneasy half smile.

Before she can respond, a twitchy, angular woman taps her on the shoulder. "Could you please put out some more of the vegetarian- oh, hello," she breaks off, recognising the new arrival.

"Claire," he says delightedly, turning the scorching force of his attention onto her. "You look like a lawsuit waiting to happen." He eyes her up and down with no subtlety whatsoever, and she somehow becomes even more twitchy, clearly flustered.

"I'm supposed to take that as a compliment, am I?" she says tightly, nonetheless looking rather pleased.

"I was just asking this saucy little minx to put me through my paces, if you know what I mean," he says, leering indiscreetly.

"Oh," says Claire. "Perhaps the mini quiches can wait if you-"

"No," her sister replies firmly, eager to escape the mounting lawyer-on-lawyer sexual tension. "Mini quiches are impatient little buggers. I'm just going to let this... yep."

She peels away, picking up an empty serving platter on her way.

"Oh, let me help you," says the priest, chasing after her retreating back.

"Thanks," she says when he catches up. From a stack of catering boxes in a tucked-away corner, she hands him another tray of delicate pastries. "They are terribly heavy. Can always do with the assistance of a big, strong man."

"Well thank fuck I was here, or all these people would have had to be-"

"Quicheless, yeah."

They work together to re-stock the buffet table, sneaking bites here and there. The noise he makes on tasting the goat's cheese and beetroot filo parcels for the first time borders on the obscene, and the mask does nothing to hide the way her pupils dilate.

"Follow me," she says simply, setting down her dish. She turns, then, and takes his uninjured hand, drawing him after her through the double doors, through the antechamber and into a side room, half the size of the ballroom. He allows himself to be led, the enchantment of the evening settling over him. She gropes for the light switch on the wall, and the bulbs begin to hum and then the room is slowly lit with an increasing warm light.

A grand piano lies under a dust sheet, the wooden boards of the floor stretching away underfoot. Chairs are stacked in neat rows in the corner, and the strains of music from the band next door can still be heard.

"Time for that dance, don't you think?" She steps out of her shoes and pads barefoot across the floor to press close against him.

Bewitched by either the champagne or their solitude, he gives in and rests his hand on the gentle curve of her waist, the red sequins warm against his fingers. She matches his action, her firm touch setting the nerves ablaze on his hip. With her other hand, she takes her time stroking down the length of his arm, only to stop at the wrist, hand hovering just shy of his palm.

"For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch," she murmurs, looking into his eyes.

"And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss," he finishes, taking her hand in his and interlacing their fingers.

The night seems destined to become one of those memories that are polished down to a bright shine by re-treading your steps over them, over and over. They sway together to the music, her hairsprayed curls brushing against his cheek. She fits her body against his, pressing close, her breath raising the hairs on his neck, her perfume filling his senses. He grips her tighter, his solid warmth under her fingers drawing her in. She looks in his eyes after a while, a teasing smirk on her tempting red lips.

"Have not saints lips-" she begins, but is cut off when he kisses her, bringing up his hand from her hip to her cheek and breathlessly pouring himself into her, revelling in her little intake of breath, in the taste of the wine on her lips, finally allowing himself to sink into her embrace.

He breaks off and rests his head against hers as they both gasp in a breath. "I don't do this any more," he murmurs.

"Me neither." She runs her fingers through his short, dark hair and he shudders at the touch. "Good thing we're not ourselves tonight."

Their lips crash together again and he presses her backwards until he can lift her up onto the closed keyboard of the grand piano, hips pulsing together as he sinks his teeth gently into the bared column of her neck. His hand slides up her thigh through the slit in her skirt as she fumbles with his belt buckle. Once unfastened, she slips a hand down the back of his trousers and grabs a handful of his arse, drawing him closer as she devours his mouth. With her other hand, she cups the growing bulge in the front of his shorts, eliciting a strangled groan.

"Do you have a-" he starts, just as she pulls out a condom and throws it at him.

"Where were you even keeping that?"

"Don't ask."

He slips his hands further up under her dress, towards her waist, then pauses, frowning. "Do these knickers reach your armpits?"

"Hurry up," she says, palming his hardening cock, "before I turn into a pumpkin."

With a growl, he rips them off and throws them over his shoulder, settling between her legs with a truly wicked smirk, before he buries his head between her spread thighs.

"I just don't understand how I got a sequin in my ear," he says some time later as they lie sprawled on the floor, panting hard, a sheen of sweat over their bodies. She raises her head from where it's resting on his chest, an absurd shimmer of glitter painting her cheek, and makes a show of examining both of his ears and his nostrils, for good measure.

"I think you got all of them, if that's any consolation."

"Thanks, he says drily. "How much longer until you vanish in a puff of smoke?"

"Not long," she whispers, leaning in for another kiss, slow and satisfied.

"Do you think I'll see you again?" he says tenderly, cradling her face.

"Who knows?" she murmurs, brushing her lips against his. She stretches, making a face at a twinge in her shoulder, and stands up, graceful and entirely unselfconscious in her nudity. He props himself up on his elbows and watches as she slips back into her underwear and picks up her dress from where they'd laid it carefully on the grand piano.

She steps into the red sequinned dress and shrugs the straps over her shoulders, then pauses when she tries to reach the zip. "Could you-"

"Sure," he replies, jumping up from the floor after pulling on his shorts. Careful not to catch her skin in the zip, he fastens the dress, covering up inch after inch of her warm flesh. He can't help but trail his fingers over her skin, tracing the contours of her back.

She pulls a small mirror and a tube of lipstick from her bag and applies it carefully, lips parted. He starts dressing, wincing as he pulls his trousers on over damp skin. He struggles with the bow tie, crossing the straps uselessly and catching his fingers in the knot.

"Here," she says, unpicking the knot with deft fingers and fastening it into a neat bow, smoothing it against his collarbones. She's standing so close. He can't stop himself from pulling her in for one last, helpless kiss.

"Goodnight," she says as they part, her red lips mere inches from his.

"Goodnight," he breathes.

As she walks out of the room, her high heeled shoes swinging from one hand, she starts to hum a tune. As he watches her disappear into the darkness, he can just make out the words she's singing.

"...exchanging glances, wond'ring in the night, what were the chances..."

He smiles to himself as he turns away. Perhaps their paths will cross again.

[mathiaskillmaster]

Rebirth of the Dragon (After GOT / Daenerys Targaryen) Part 2

The first thing Daenerys saw when she opened her eyes, her eyelids stuck a little, after her troubled sight was back to normal, was the ceiling of the little room she was in. A pleasant and light smell of incense permeated the air. She was lying in a comfortable single bed under a dark silk blanket. Her head was horribly painful, and she felt as if her whole body were suffering from aches and pains. Despite the pain, she managed to sit up, sitting in the bed and watching around the darkness of the room, lit simply by the rays of daylight filtering through the tile of the only window in the room. But a peculiar pain made her look down at her chest wound. Once again, she remembered .... Jon .... it was him who had done that .... she saw him again, in her mind, his face looking at her, and the stinging pain of the blade penetrating into her flesh ... the young woman's beating heart rose again, while without being able to prevent it, she shed tears, her lips trembling and plunging her face into her hands .... how was all of this possible? How could he do that to her? And above all, how could she come back? Why was she here? She also remembered Jon and his scars on the body, as well as the story of his return to the world of the living, brought back also by a priestess of R'hllor .... Had it happened for her too? Daenerys was more than lost, all mixing in her head, and the feeling of sadness invading her. The door of the room opened slowly in a squeak and the servant Athias entered, to find the young woman sitting under the blanket. _ "Ah, finally you're awake. You've slept for almost two days ... I'm bringing you something to eat, you need to regain your strength." The servant came to put down a small wooden tray containing a piece of bread, some cheese and a few pieces of dried meat, as well as a bronze water jug. Daenerys said nothing, staring at him suspiciously and retreated a little into the bed. Athias noticed it and smiled at her. _"Don't worry, you will not risk anything here." _ "B .... but ..... where am I?" she asked. _"In the temple of R'hllor, at Volantis. You are the high-priestess Kinvara's distinguished guest. We must take care of you, that is her will, as well as that of the master of light, who by a miracle as he alone can provoke them, has brought you back among the living." R'hllor? The master of light? Like many, Daenerys knew the worship devoted to this god and the many disciples who compose it. So, was it really him who had brought her back from the lands of death? But why? Feeling her stomach scolded fiercely, the young woman first chose to take the tray and eat timidly, which seemed reassured the young servant to see that she had kept the appetite. He also noticed the traces of dry tears on her cheeks. He would ask her why, but choose to leave her alone, knowing what she had already suffered. Feeling the food and the water running down her throat made Daenerys feel like she was really alive, literally. She watched as Athias came to lay clean and folded clothes on the bed, especially for her. _ "When you feel ready, you can get dressed and come to see the High Priestess." _"But ... how did I get to Volantis? I remember that ... I was in King's Landing when ...." She could not continue her sentence, her throat getting tied again because of the sorrow. _ "Your dragon has carried you so far ... He has even stood by you to protect your body, even starving himself of food and sleep. I must admit that I had never seen such devotion from an animal." replied Athias. At the mention of this dragon, Daenerys reacts immediately and seizes the servant by the collar. _ "Drogon! Where is he?! I have to see him!" _"Uh, he's in the backyard of the temple. He had to get some strength again ..." Athias replied. Daenerys did not wait any longer, spreading the blanket and getting up, her feet touching the cold pavement of the room. Athias, out of respect, looked away as the young woman, completely naked, seized the clothes on the bed and began to dress. A simple and modest dress of a dark green-gray color, short pants, as well as shoes. She did not even pay attention to Athias's presence as she put on the dress. She could see herself for a moment, in the small mirror resting on the wooden table in front of the bed. She could see her face dug by fatigue, doubt, her long silver hair undone and cascading over her shoulders ... Once ready, and without even the permission of the servant, Daenerys left the room hastily, pushing the door out of her way and closely followed by Athias who wanted to hold her. He held her by the wrist, which earned him a glare from her. _"Wait, wait, I know you're in a hurry, but you have to stay calm. You've just had a very violent shock and ..." _ "I have to see my dragon, do you understand?!" she insisted, releasing her wrist from his hand "... I want to make sure he's fine." At the woman's tone and stubborn gaze, Athias sighed heavily and then decided to accompany her, guiding her to the back yard. They crossed a large number of corridors and rooms, where Daenerys could see other servants at work, maintaining the temple, as well as red priests and priestesses working for their god. After a door, Daenerys finally found herself outside, feeling the fresh air come to caress her face and the light of the day come to greet her. And it is in the middle of this big space, that she saw him finally. Her dear child, her last still alive, his huge scaly body getting warm in the sunlight. Tears, of joy this time, flowed down Daenerys' cheeks as she walked unhesitatingly towards Drogon, who, noticing her, immediately rose with all his stature and came to her with affectionate grunts. Daenerys huddled against his muzzle, caressing him with all the love a mother could give to her son. Drogon seemed almost purring like a big cat. With the tip of his big tongue, the dragon came to lick her cheek gently in an emotional sign, which made a snort laughed from the young woman with the tickle. _ "Drogon ... I ... I'm so happy you're here .... you .... you saved me ..." she said in her tears of happiness. It is true. If she had been able to return, it was thanks to him, who, by taking her away from Westeros, had thus prevented anyone from getting rid of her body. Drogon listened to her, continuing to look at her and gently rub his muzzle against her as her hands caressed his black scales. Standing at the door, Athias stayed behind to let the young woman find her dragon in peace and returned to his temple duties. Daenerys, as an attentive mother, was looking all over Drogon's body to see the trace of some wound, but luckily he had nothing. He had regained strength and regained his appetite, judging by the many bones of animals that littered the backyard floor. R'hllor's servants had taken care of him, and inwardly she thanked them. At least he was still the dragon she knew, still letting his food scraps as a big child. Daenerys smiled, tenderly, seeing Drogon come to seize a half-eaten carcass of what was a goat and lay it in front of his mother, and looking at her with a childish air as if to offer her food. _ "I .... no thanks, Drogon, I've already eaten." she said with a little grimace at the smell of carrion and flies fluttering around. Drogon seemed to understand and did not deprive himself, enclosing his jaws on the carcass and swallowing it at once in a crack of bones and flesh. _ "Dragons are quite remarkable creatures." Suddenly, the voice of Kinvara, the high priestess, who came forward to meet the young Queen Targaryen. Drogon showed no sign of mistrust or aggression towards the red woman, knowing what she had done for his mother. Although still a little suspicious, Daenerys also knew that she owed her miraculous return to this priestess. _"Drogon is not only remarkable," said Daenerys, turning to her and looking at him with love and pride, "he is unique, and he is my child ... the only one I have in this world." Her thoughts returned for a moment to her two other sons, Viserion and Rhaegal, both dead during this infernal crusade to reconquer this accursed throne and the bloody war against the white walkers that had cost her a lot, whose life of her dearest and faithful friend, Ser Jorah. With a tight heart and a tight throat, Daenerys had a thought for him too, as well as her dear Missandei and Grey Worm. She hoped he was still alive, somewhere. She had lost everything .... everything. Sadness invaded her, but also anger, a bitter and disgusting mixture in her mouth. She saw the faces of Tyrion, her former hand that had let her down, and Jon, the man she loved, who had stuck a dagger into her heart ... Daenerys's fist was twitching, shaking softly. Seeing the young queen plunge back into her painful memories, Kinvara came to her. _ "If I understand correctly ...." said Daenerys turning to her "... I also have my return to your powers, red priestess." _"Oh, it's not my will in particular ..." Kinvara replied modestly as she joined her as the two women walked side by side on the pavement of the courtyard. "... I am only a humble servant." _ "So I have my return to the master of light, is that it?" questioned the young fallen queen again. Kinvara confirmed the question with a simple nod. Daenerys really had trouble conceiving it. _"Do you find that really so surprising? Did not you hear, like me, as we bring you back, that voice in the flames .... you heard it too, did not you?" Daenerys's face turned pale and Kinvara saw on her face the answer to the question. How could this priestess know? It was true. While she was almost dead, she did not really know how to describe the state in which she was, she had heard it ... that whisper, that disembodied voice in her ear while a powerful heat enveloped her ... Was it ..... him? _ "But ... but why me? Why have brought me back?" Kinvara understood this curiosity that devoured her, and invited the young Targaryen woman to follow her inside the temple. ********* Kinvara led Daenerys into the great room of the altar, where the queen of the dragons could finally contemplate with her eyes this imposing room, whose mystical appearance was matched only by the heavy aura that reigned there, almost wrenching a shudder from Dany's body. Her attention was focused on the altar ... she was convinced that she had already seen it .... in a dream, or maybe it was not .... a big fiery heart all carved stone, standing in the middle of a dark and giant room, surrounded by flames ..... Kinvara, as usual when she went to this sacred place, lit one by one a few candles on the candlesticks arranged on one side, causing small dancing flames on each wick. _ "Answer me now, what your master can expect from me?" asked Daenerys, losing some patience. Kinvara understood it quite well, contenting herself with blowing the rod used to light the candles and resumed her conversation with her. _ "You are the one who was promised, Daenerys stormborn. A great destiny awaits you, as the master of the light has wanted ...." _ "A great destiny?" Daenerys interrupted, raising an eyebrow "... I was betrayed by those I thought were my allies, I was murdered by the man I loved, I lost two of my children and all my army .... where do you see a great destiny in this disaster?!" The young fallen queen was getting carried away, but calmed down very quickly to avoid sinking, and feeling that she was not yet fully recovered, blew a big blow. Kinvara was very calm, not insulted by the tone Daenerys had used towards her. Dany pulled herself together, and sat down on the stone bench in the back of the room, running her face between her hands and trying to tidy up her confused mind. _ "What .... what happened when I was ......?" she could not even finish her sentence as it sounded impossible. _ "The northern kingdom has become independent, and the six crowns are now ruled by a new king named Bran the broken .... the iron throne, as for it, is no more." At this last mention, the heart of Daenerys jumped and she raised her head to the priestess, and guessed in her eyes, that she was telling the truth. _ "The ... the iron throne has disappeared?" _ "Yes ..." confirmed Kinvara "... your dragon destroyed it after he found you dead in the throne room ..... I saw it in the flames ... . " _ "Drogon? But why did he do that?" Daenerys asks, even more lost. _ "As you said yourself, majesty, your dragon is unique, with an extraordinary intelligence .... the iron throne was what caused your downfall, and Drogon, in his clairvoyance, therefore decided to eliminate once and for all what had brought about the death of his mother, to avenge you, but also to deliver you .... " _ "To deliver me?" replied Daenerys, raising an eyebrow, wary of the explanations of the high priestess who pursued. _"To deliver you from the legacy of your ancestors, this same legacy that not only cost you your life, but also your most faithful allies .... you were not made for sitting on that iron throne, as you were not made to reign in Westeros .... " Daenerys had a hard time accepting that. She who, all her life, had fought with all her strength to take back the inheritance of her dynasty ... With the disappearance of the iron throne, what remained of the symbolic legacy left by Aegon the conqueror had just fainted forever, putting a definitive end to the reign of the Targaryen dynasty on Westeros. Daenerys was once again divided between sadness and anger. She had just lost everything this time. Another usurper had seized power in Westeros, a waking nightmare for the fallen young queen.... _ "If what you say is true .... then, where is my true place?" Daenerys asked again, emptying her mind. Kinvara smiled at her, and with a gesture of the hand, invited her to get up and come near the stone pediestal in which was burning the flames of a brazier in a container of iron and bronze. _ "Come closer, Daenerys stormborn .... look in the flames and tell me what you see ...." Daenerys was beginning to be tired of all this mystery, but carried away by her curiosity and the belief that Kinvara was right, stepped shyly up to the brazier and stared her focused gaze on it. Standing behind her, Kinvara waited, watching intently. _ "What do you see?" said the high priestess. _ "I ..... nothing, only the flames ...." answered the young Targaryen, honestly, moderately convinced. Kinvara insisted that she continue to watch, more carefully. What Daenerys did. She could only see the dance of flames in front of her, nothing else, as if the world around her had faded away. There was only her and this brazier in front of her, nothing else. The pleasant heat came to caress her face, bringing her some moral comfort. This unique bond with fire, which she did not know how she could have gotten, had always been a way for her to feel alive. Long seconds passed during which Dany stared at the fire. The mystical aura became more and more felt as and when. Kinvara felt it too but did nothing, just showing a satisfied expression. Daenerys's expression also changed, looking astonished, voiceless, as if watching something in the midst of undulating flames. _ "I ... I see something ..." suddenly sighs the silver-haired young woman, without being able to look away from the brazier. "... dark lands, where the night never seems to end .... I see a city made of black stone ..... I hear .... yes, I hear cries .... cries of baby dragons! They come from this black mountain, shaped like ... a screaming skull ...... I ... there is a form in this mountain .... it ... it turns to me ... those eyes ... " fear grew in Daenerys's tone. Sudden, a crackling of the fire made Daenerys jump, who now could not see anything in the fire. Kinvara had not lost anything of the description made by the young woman, and did not seem really surprised either. Dazed by what she had just seen and heard, Daenerys came to sit on the stone bench. The cries of these baby dragons continued to resonate in her head, almost like calls. _ "I know what you've seen ...." Kinvara told her "... because I've seen it too." _ "But .... what does that mean?" _ "That your place is here, in Essos, Daenerys stormborn .... remember what you did for these lands, countless slaves that you have saved, lives that you have made better by your actions ... .. you are more than a queen ... you are a liberator, the one who was returned to us in fire and ashes, by the grace of the master of light." Was all this real? After all she could see, Daenerys could hardly question the intervention of a certain divine presence. But why her? The vision of these black mountains punctuated in this disturbing night, this city of black stone, came back to her mind. Kinvara guessed it as well, gently putting her hand on Dany's and kneeling in front of her. _"The master has shown you the way, it's up to you now to take it, and know that I, Kinvara, high priestess of Volantis, swears to follow you and serve you." Daenerys did not know how to react, but was still grateful to these priests for taking care of her and her dear Drogon. Although she could decide to ignore this vision, the latter could not detach from her mind. The cries of these baby dragons resonating in a distant echo obsessed her ... she had to discover what it was. _ "But ..... where should we go?" was the last question of the young queen. Kinvara gave her a clever look and a smirk, and gave a very special name that almost made Daenerys shudder. _ "Asshai."

[futurebiblestudies-blog]

Genesis 27

Son, and the elders at hand, the son of Esau’s brother, they can also eat delicious food, and the children who jump on you, shaking in the office, they say: they said there? And received the dress and disappointment of the call to arms, saying: stop for the feeling of wheat, and go ahead, I said, I came, I came, be happy, blessed, son, lock. Translate it here. Go now both to the cattle and the gate of the pond. Quieter and better? Do you bless him? He said: See also the smell of you, your brother, Mother of God in the Spirit, so bless deer for food, in fact, it will remain in their hands and change it, because they are hurting. son of Jacob. Jacob’s son. Jacob’s car has arrived quickly and I am going to ask you, sir, to look at the master of death. Before that, I’m leaving.

That’s why he is rarely put in the sky pink wheat and rosé wine, and they now have a son. And he said to break our brother, until the days of my life, to speak to Him who had begun to fall, and a stool, and now, and for the mother, or the son, or your mother? “And after eating my son, but he soon found out he was dead.” In the country, the children, and he will be satisfied, and in love. “

In fact, it must be said that the secretary of the Fund, the secretary of the Fund, my sister, Jacob himself, went to speak to him: “I loved his father, I love his father, the flesh of the deer, as well that the son like you, my dear, must be brought up now, for the father, and eat the things of the father, and the words of that, his brother, because he is a hunter in the project. and secondly, he placed them at Jacob’s place and ruined them in the house I ate and blessed you tenderly, he came all his brethren, because of the grace of God, which gave birth to your soul my life, so do not interrupt, he says father, I’m old Esau, and I’ll teach you to sit and eat by the pool for others, oh my Papa.”

Blessing, father? Tell Anna’s maid to eat some delicious food and eat. Bring the wine you make. You see, now, give us the dead before his death. before his death. I say hello to Jacob’s son, you see, I heard that, I felt I was holding you. You are your master. We can, shaking the fields and worshiping, the best for me at the end of Jacob and saying: Here, I mentioned a delicious food made by yourself, not good. Not a user of my father, I say that it is equal to the door, not brown, if you are a father, you are like the children of Esau. Esau was not.

Jacob’s Park, sir, my food tastes the same as my father’s. To my uncle. He said: My brother came to see his father and his father who took him to the service. With me and with me, I said to Isaac, and I brought him, the hundredth, and I gave a son, and I said one in the place of this son. This son. Among men, and I am good, I have heard Esau’s words, I have felt him, and I have said that he has blessed me. He said: Bless me too. Isaac and a drink. I have enough . They shouted at their father’s order on the ground, and now I took it and kissed me, O woman, brunette.

The master of the building. He said “Jacob” is the voice, but the father is not my son. But the woman did not do? I saw above. However, it is the firstborn, Esau. Always your hands and fingers. Abe, Abe and stood up and said to Esau, “Here I did it with him. I’m here . I am happy . I booked myself and told his father, thank you. I bless you. So get me out of the barn and get out of them, and take your kids out of the fountain in front of their goat eyes. The waiter of the people who was near you, he adored the people, the food and the kitchen of the duke, and if he was not ready to fight and not grow old, but you are my master, my son speaks Has he the curse of Jacob my son? She said, “He did not have a mother, after the blessing, do you feel well?” facing the determination of death. Die.

It was also from Isaac, Rebecca, and she told me, I heard that in the end she said, it seems like it should be also a wild animal, so they said when they approached from me and told my father Ezau, take it. father, Esau, in the back of my brother’s head, but is not it Jacob? name of Jacob’s son? when I took something fishing and changed it inwardly, I realized that they loved, holy, strong and bitter not to be called, I approached Isaac’s father, he the merchant, and you can say bald, ah, so I like that and I did not like ‘do not take advantage of my son’s obedience to vote that the limit immediately changed his face into the face of the earth only when he called the Lord and his mother to eat in the presence of the Lord God who has changed man. and all fats should be reduced to pain because of things that are important to the Earth, and therefore in some ways. you must be happy. Blessings of the hand. there is - you are blessed. Isaac, the father of a man, to feel tears and his father out loud. I said it was a deer and a summer chair. And the soul.

[thecardsimagine]

Could I pretty please get an overly fluffy scenario where the reader and Asra have been together for a while and are just being super lovey dovey (like waking up together and kissing each other’s noses or holding hands whilst strolling through the market?) thank you! And sorry it’s so specific I’ve had this idea but with the gang following and making snide comments and gagging noises about the couple for so long now

Thanks for requesting! I hope you’ll enjoy the scenario, I wasn’t sure if the last part you actually wanted to have included, so I just added a small extra, I hope you like it! (I can only think about one possible goat man who’d be like that tbh)

The rays of the early sun lightened the room, but aside from you giggling, there wasn’t much other noise to be heard. Pulling the blanket over your mouth as if you were hiding, you peaked out from it at your boyfriend who smiled mischievously, his eyes still tired from the sleep he had just awoken from. “Look who’s up already,” he mumbled, stretching his arms upwards before rolling onto his side and pulling you close.

He tenderly let his nose brush over your face, bumping yours with his before giving you a sheepish smooch on the lips, lingering a while like this, letting your warmth caress him tenderly. “How long have you been up?” he asked, inspecting you with half-opened eyes, still very much in sleep mode. You shrugged, entangling your arms from the blanket to wrap them around his neck and sink into his chest.

“A while,” you admitted, feeling the sensation of his lips pressing little kisses on top of your hair. “But I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful for once,” you explained, hearing a hum in response. “Thanks for looking out for me, [Name]. I had a wonderful dream in fact,” he purred, pulling you closer into his embrace.

“Was it about me?” you asked, giggling some more as you felt a bit of embarrassment rush through you. You found it a little haughty to assume that even his dreams must be about you, but the love between you two was still so fresh, it felt like a dream itself. There was another thoughtful hum, though you could hear the smile on his face. Even if you weren’t aware, he was just as giddy about you as you were about him.

“All my dreams are about you, [Name]. Every single one of them,” Laughing you pushed yourself away from him a bit so you could look up. The moment his gaze met yours, he leaned down, meeting you in a long, sensual kiss, before listening to what you had to say.

“I hope the will forever be good then.” Asra only laughed, kissing you again before replying, “I know they will.”

“And we need to get some eucalyptus!” you pointed out, voice a little louder so he’d hear you over the divider in your room. You heard him moving around, picking up various items you two needed for your expedition to the market and maybe the forest too, depending if you could find everything he needed for his magic.

“Noted. Will you need much longer?” he asked, and from the closeness of his voice you realized he was standing right in front of the divider. You felt a little embarrassed, having struggled with wrapping yourself in your own clothes. You hadn’t expected them to be so difficult to put on when you bought them and you had wanted to impress Asra with a new look. However, now you were just keeping him behind, even though he had lots to do that day.

“I’m sorry…” you mumbled. “Just having problems with that damn- Ouch!” The struggles with you tag in the back, being held by safety pin finally came to an end as you stung yourself with the metal, making you cry out from the moment of surprise. “[Name]?” Asra’s head immediately came into view from behind the divider, worry in his gaze, though his cheeks quickly flushed red and he turned away as he realized that he might not have looked at you while you were changing.

“I just poked myself,” you explained, trying to laugh it off and turning towards him, showing that it was alright for him to see you. “I am sorry for holding you back, Asra…” you whispered quietly, turning around to the mirror again, trying to fix the rest of your outfit. He was silent as he approached you from behind, putting his hands on your hips and looking at you in the mirror.

“You’re not holding me back, [Name],” he replied, keeping a serious expression on his face. A quick glance at your neck and he saw the tag, reaching upwards to take it out. “Here let me help,” he offered, pulling off the safety pin and placing it away on a cupboard. After that, he looked up in to mirror again, a sudden smile appearing on his mouth. “You look really beautiful,” he purred, leaning forward to kiss your exposed shoulder.

You enjoyed the affections from him, letting out a pleased sigh. He knew exactly how to ease your mind and make you feel loved. Instantly a warm feeling spread through your body. That was until another thoughtful hum escaped his mouth, his lips stopping to kiss your skin. “Maybe we should stay in bed today,” he suddenly suggested, giving you a concerned wrinkling of his forehead in the mirror. “Why that?” you laughed, finding the expression hilarious.

“You are just too pretty, what will I do if other people try to hit on you?” he asked, trying to be his most serious self, though you could see the flirty attitude behind his words. “Ah, you’ll just have to defend me,” you replied, turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Like a knight. My magical knight.” Returning the affection, you kissed along the underside of his chin until his stern expression changed into a giddy laugh as he united the two of you in another hearty kiss.

Extra

“No, are you deaf? To the left I said, left! Does no one know how to put up a painting in this damn palace?”

The two of you could already hear Lucio’s booming voice, the moment you set foot out of your room in the palace that the two of you were residing in at the moment. You gave your boyfriend a pitying expression, knowing how much he hated to be in the presence of the count, and he gave you a dramatic roll of his eyes, followed by a sigh in return, before giggling with you about it.

Once you were in clear sight of the count, Asra’s grip on your hand strengthened, his gaze straightforward and already focused on a point behind Lucio. However, the moment he could see you, he did, turning around towards you with one of his signature wide grins, opening his arms for a greeting. “Asra! Perfect timing, can’t you do anything? Use your magic, my painting has to be perfectly hung here or Noddy will take it off again.”

Though against the expectations of the count, for Asra to stop and help, the magician just passed by, pulling you along quickly. “We’re terribly busy, Lucio,” he explained, hooking your arm demonstratively under his. “Come on, it’s not like she’d run in my arms the moment you let go of her, oh great magician!” Lucio sneered as he looked after the two of you.

Even though you didn’t expect him to be affected by that so much, you could feel the tension building in Asra, as he slowly came to a halt, turning only halfway back to Lucio. Just loud enough for the count to hear, Asra announced “That’s true, you are just too crooked for her taste. Like your painting,” before leaning down, kissing you sweetly. One last smirk towards Lucio before Asra tugged you along again, hearing the count shout after you, “Oh, get a room!”

“We already have one!” Asra replied with a laugh. “It’s in your palace even!” he added before the two of you laughed over the frustrated grunt you heard from the count, making your way towards the market, hand in hand.

[faveficarchive]

I, Conqueror: Part 4

By SwordnQuil

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: The best Conqueror tale I’ve ever read, this story follows a similar line to Remember Nothing (No violence alt-universe Xena). Gabrielle wakes up to find herself in a universe where Xena has conquered Greece, Callisto is her right-hand, and the world trembles at her feet. Can she set to rights this world turned upside-down?

From her spot just to the right of the huge crowd, Callisto watched, grinning maliciously, as Gabrielle screamed. "So, the annoying little brat recognizes the death of a kindred spirit, does she?" Cocking her head, she watched with interest as Tao Feng gathered the distraught woman close to him, looking concernedly down at her. "And she seems to have found a little friend. How sweet."

The gears in her mind spun and, in response, her face lit up in a brilliant smile that reached all the way to her eyes. "Oh, my dear little Gabrielle! For the first time in your annoying little life, you just may be of some use to me after all!"

Then, like a specter, she was gone.

***

Tao Feng gathered the sobbing young healer to his body briefly before holding her out to the length of his arms and peering down at her in concern. "What is it, Gabrielle?"

"It could have been me," the bard murmured, half incoherent through her tears. "It could have been me up there. It could have been me!"

"I am afraid I do not understand you, Gabrielle. Who could have been you?"

"That woman!"

Tao Feng looked up quickly, then back down at the weeping blonde woman. "The one on the cross?"

Gabrielle nodded, her hand over her eyes.

"She is an insurrectionist, Gabrielle. She spoke against the Realm."

Taking her hand quickly away from her face, the bard lifted her head, fury sparking in her eyes. "She spoke for the people!"

Again, the elderly healer looked up, his seamed face paling as his almond eyes darted toward the marble platform. He couldn’t quite hold in a breath of relief when he saw the Conqueror’s gaze firmly upon the cross that was being planted into the ground beside the dais.

Tao Feng risked a quick glance at the crowd around them, gratified to see that they, too, were staring at the spectacle taking place near the Conqueror’s throne.

Then he looked back to Gabrielle, who was still staring at him with blazing eyes. "It is an unfortunate thing that is done here, Gabrielle. But a lesson was learned. Not so much on the girl’s part, of course. But the Conqueror’s laws are to be respected. The people must be made to understand that."

"Tell that to her," the bard snarled, throwing the hand he had resting on her shoulder away with brute force.

The healer looked around again, his heart thudding crazily in his chest. Speaking against the Realm was suicide even in the darkest of caverns. In broad daylight, surrounded by a massive army, with the Conqueror of Greece sitting mere yards away from them...

He reached out again, only to have his arm deflected.

"Don’t touch me, Tao Feng. Not right now."

The crowd’s low murmuring caused the healer to look up sharply. He sighed in relief as he watched Xena, in her palanquin, being borne up onto the strong shoulders of her attendants.

Murmuring turned to cheering as the Conqueror’s parade left the platform and started back toward the massive palace.

Once Xena and her followers were out of sight, the crowd began to break up, talking quietly among themselves, some shooting glances toward the mercifully unconscious woman hanging from the cross and guarded over by a half-dozen armed men.

Gabrielle finally looked up, toward the hanging woman, her eyes stony. She examined the men standing around the cross, studying their expressions and wishing she’d thought to bring her staff with her.

"We need to leave, Gabrielle," Tao Feng said softly, taking care to keep his body well away from hers, as requested.

"Not without her."

The healer’s eyes widened. "Impossible!"

Gabrielle rounded on the older man. "I’m tired of hearing you say that, Tao Feng! It’s getting old! I’m going to rescue that poor woman up there. Are you going to help me, or not?"

As Tao Feng continued to stare silently down at her, Gabrielle’s expression twisted into one of distaste and disappointment. "Fine. I’ll do it myself, then."

Her determined step away broke the healer’s paralysis, and he reached out an arm. "Wait. Please."

"Not this time, Tao Feng. I’m not going to be too late again. Not this time." From where she was standing, still some distance away, Gabrielle could see the woman’s struggling efforts to breathe.

"No. I will help you. But going in and fighting those guards, assuming they can even be defeated by the likes of us, and stealing that woman’s body will ultimately end in our own executions." He smiled. "There is a better way."

Gabrielle turned back, arms crossed over her chest. "I’m listening."

***

Pulling back on the reins, Tao Feng brought the horses to a smooth stop several feet from the guarded cross. Tucked inside the back of the wagon, Gabrielle put the finishing touches on her costume, pulling the black hood up over her head to hide her features. The healer turned back to her and nodded before standing up and stepping out of the wagon, his face set.

Returning the nod, Gabrielle carefully eased herself out of the back of the wagon and took up a deferential stance behind the horses, trying her best to portray a meek attitude.

Tao Feng, undisguised, stepped up to the guards, who looked down at him with contempt.

"What do you want, old man."

"I have come to remove the body."

"Not a chance. The Conqueror wants this bitch’s corpse hangin’ high for everyone to see."

The healer took an exaggerated look around the empty square, then turned back to the soldiers. "But there is no one here. The crowds have all left." He took a step closer to the group. "Please allow me to do my job. There are men in the main camp who must be attended to."

"Then go back and tend ‘em, ya old goat, and leave us be. The bitch comes down when the Conqueror says she comes down."

Tao Feng sighed, and then bowed deeply. "Very well. I shall leave. But if the Conqueror should complain of the corpse’s stench ruining her noon meal, I can only hope that you will be kind enough to tell her that it was you who sent me away when I tried to perform my duties." He slowly looked up into the blazing noon-day sun, shading his eyes with one hand. "It promises to be quite hot today. The decomposition should begin very soon." He bowed again. "Good day to you all."

The guards looked at one another.

Then up into the sky.

Then over their shoulders toward the nearby castle.

Then back at Tao Feng, who was waiting patiently.

"Oh alright," the lead guard finally said, gesturing with his spear. "But be quick about it, old man. I’ve got a meal waiting for me too."

Tao Feng bowed again. "Rest assured, I shall move as fast as is humanly possible."

Turning, he gestured to Gabrielle, who walked slowly, gracefully over to the group.

"And who’s this? Yer bodyguard?"

The men laughed as the head guard used the tip of his spear to slide the hood from Gabrielle’s head. The bard stiffened, but kept her head bowed, hoping that the black wig she was wearing had the fortitude to stand up to the soldiers’ examination.

"She is my associate, Hee La. She has come over with the soldiers from Chin. She is a most capable assistant."

"Looks a little scrawny to me," the guard replied, peering at the robed woman who was staring meekly at the ground beneath her feet.

"Yeah. I bet I know just how she assists ya, too," another contributed, complete with lewd gestures to punctuate his feeble attempt at wit.

The group laughed again.

Tao Feng smiled enigmatically. "She is much stronger than she looks."

"Whatever. Just get that carcass down from the cross now, old man."

"As you wish."

***

Tao Feng once again pulled the horses to a stop, this time just behind the large healing tent within the Greek encampment. Hopping quickly from the seat, he strode over to the rear of the wagon and peered inside. "Is she alive?"

Gabrielle looked up, cradling the broken young woman against her body. "Barely," she whispered, stroking the wavy golden hair tenderly. "Thank you, Tao Feng. You risked your life to save a stranger. I appreciate that." The bard smiled slightly. "I’m sure she does, too."

Though it wasn’t in the man’s nature to blush, Tao Feng could feel, to his extreme embarrassment, the heat traveling from his neck to his cheeks and ears. He cleared his throat gruffly, gripping the splintered wood of the wagon’s short lip. "We cannot keep her here, you know. She is most unsafe in the middle of the Conqueror’s main war camp."

Gabrielle nodded. "Yes. I know. I have a friend who I think can help. I’ll take her there."

Tao Feng nodded. "We must not waste time, then. Tell me where to go."

"No. I need to do this alone, Tao Feng. My friend is...very secretive."

"Absolutely not. This territory is much too dangerous for a woman traveling alone. Even a woman as skilled as you."

The bard smiled softly. "If you recall, Tao Feng, I traveled alone before I met you."

"And look at the trouble you’ve gotten yourself into since then!"

Gabrielle laughed out loud. "Speak for yourself, my friend." Her expression became somber. "Trust me, Tao Feng. I can take care of myself." Reaching out, she softly touched his arm with her free hand. "You’re needed here. Like you said to those guards, the wounded need tending to. I’ll be okay."

"But - "

"Please."

Whatever strength he might have had broke to pieces in the face of the beautiful woman’s soft plea. Tao Feng sighed, then nodded.

Gabrielle smiled brightly, squeezing the healer’s thin arm. "Thank you."

Tao Feng cleared his throat again, adopting his coolest expression. "Yes. Well. Just endeavor to return safely. And quickly. The men have need of you as well, healer."

"I’ll be as quick as I can. Take care of yourself, Tao Feng. And thanks again."

The healer bowed deeply, respectfully, then turned and, without looking back, slipped around the healing tent, leaving Gabrielle to her task.

***

Though it took nearly a day to walk the path, it took a fraction of that with two strong and spirited horses adding their assistance. Gabrielle gently pulled the wagon to a halt outside a cave that appeared at first glance to be deserted. Gingerly stepping out of the cart, she walked up to the cave opening. "Um...hello? Is anybody home?"

Silence.

"Damn. Manus, you have to be home. There’s no where else I can turn right now."

Sighing at the continued silence, Gabrielle walked back to the bed of the wagon and looked inside. The young woman was still alive, though her breathing was very shallow and her skin remained blue-tinged. "I’m sorry," she whispered to the girl, reaching out to stroke her cheek gently and shivering at the waxen chill of the young woman’s flesh. "I’m so sorry this happened to you."

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and the bard whirled around, pushing against the back of the wagon to protect the precious burden residing within. She relaxed a split-second later as her eyes beheld the very welcome sight of Manus, the Priest of the Fates, his aged face creased with worry.

"Gabrielle, what’s wrong? Are you alright? What is the problem? Are you alone? What do you need?"

Smiling slightly, the bard held up her hands. "I’m fine, Manus. Honest. I came here because I need help, and, well, you’re the only one I can think of to give it to me."

Manus’ face creased further. "I cannot interfere in this, Gabrielle."

"I’m not asking you to interfere, Manus. I’m asking for your help." Stepping away from the wagon, she gestured toward it.

The priest stepped forward, peering into the wagon’s straw-lined bed. Wide-eyed, he turned back to Gabrielle. "Who is she?"

The bard shook her head sadly. "I don’t know. She got caught, somehow, speaking against the Realm, giving voice to the people." Her face set in anger once again. "Xena crucified her."

Manus looked back at the woman. "But...she’s still alive!"

"Yes, I know. And I need to make sure she stays that way. That’s why I’m here." She looked down at the small man. "She’s not safe in Xena’s camp. She’s not really safe anywhere." She laid a hand on Manus’ shoulder. "Can you help?"

Manus looked down at the unconscious woman again. "Her injuries are very severe."

"I know."

"I can’t promise anything."

"I know that, too."

After a long moment, the priest nodded. "Then I shall do the best I can do. Help me bring her into the cave and close by the fire."

***

After unburdening the horses, brushing them down, and leaving them to wander the small corral outside of the healing tent, Gabrielle slipped inside the enclosure, her mind on nothing save for the comfortable cot awaiting her there.

Despite her exhaustion, both mental and physical, her step was much lighter, having left the grievously injured woman in safe hands. She only wished she knew the woman’s name. Did she have any family to mourn her? Anyone who would cry joyously when she walked back into their lives once again?

Or was she truly alone, like Gabrielle herself was alone? A single human being for whom the weight of the entire world rested on her shoulders?

Enough of that. Any more of those kind of thoughts and I’ll never get to sleep.

Blinking in the low lighting, she could see that Tao Feng had done his job well. Where she had left a full tent of injured soldiers, only two remained at her return, both resting comfortably.

From a spot in one shadowed corner, the healer finished washing his hands and turned, a slight smile on his somber face. "Welcome back. Were you successful?"

Gabrielle returned the smile. "Yes. She’s in good hands." She looked around the nearly empty tent again. "Looks like you were pretty successful yourself."

"All part of my plan to ensure that we would both be able to sleep soundly tonight."

The bard yawned and stretched her body, stiff from hours of riding in the uncomfortable wagon. "Sounds good to me. It feels like years since I’ve had a decent night’s sleep."

Tao Feng’s smile deepened. "Then my plan was a success." He gestured to the freshly made cot at his side. "Your bed awaits. Get in and dream of only pleasant things."

Doing as she was bade, Gabrielle groaned as she slipped in between the soft furs of the bed made up for her. She yawned again, rubbing at eyes filled with road dust. "You too, Tao Feng. Sleep well, my friend."

***

The night was dark and heavy with the scents of the earth reveling in the just-passed rain. The fire hissed as the damp branches protested the giving of their precious moisture to the heat of the flames.

Gabrielle lay on her back, luxuriating in the feel of the dry, soft furs dancing against her heated, sweating body. Her gaze was captured in the smoldering glance of eyes gone white-silver with erotic passion.

Raven hair, fragrant with crushed herbs, tickled her shoulders and breasts as the moonlight-gilded body of her sweat-sheened lover rocked sensually against her, stimulating her senses beyond belief.

Her fists planted firmly against the damp ground, Xena thrust against the willing body of her lover, her heavy breasts skimming sweetly over Gabrielle’s moist skin. She growled deep in her chest as her lover’s body opened itself more fully to her, feeling the wet heat as it seared a path along her lower abdomen and back with each thrust of her hips.

Panting heavily with passion’s exertion, Gabrielle turned her head and bit down into the plump, corded muscle of the forearm planted beside her. The action caused Xena to groan and thrust more forcefully against her, her lips parting as her flashing silvered eyes narrowed down to slits.

The heady scents, sights and sounds seemed to coalesce within the body of the bard and she felt that curious drawing up that preceded a breathtakingly powerful release.

Teeth still embedded in salty flesh, Gabrielle reached up with the last of her strength, latched onto her lover’s swaying breasts and drew forth the explosion waiting within her.

Green eyes snapped open in the tent’s night-blackness as breath rushed forth from labored lungs. Gabrielle sat up quickly, senses already tingling danger even through the passion haze of her fading dream.

Her heightened senses caused her to duck and roll, neatly avoiding a rudely grasping hand. The furs tangled around her legs softened her fall to the dirt-packed floor, but she shed the blankets quickly, jumping up and lashing out with one well-muscled leg.

A crash followed a grunting wheeze as the bard’s attacker collapsed onto a nearby cot, his heavy weight shattering the frame and dumping the man to the ground.

More hands grabbed at her, pinning her arms to her sides and encircling her waist. She whipped her head back at the one behind her, catching his trachea and forcing him to let go.

She then twisted, freeing first her right arm, then her left and lashed out with hands and feet, blindly keeping her attackers at bay.

"Back off!" she snarled as an errant hand found its way past her defenses and grabbed at her breast in an attempt to secure a handhold. She kicked back, and high, and got a breathless whimper that told her she’d been on target with the groin shot.

The man crumpled forward against her and she pushed back with all her might, sending him sprawling over several more of the empty cots.

The group closed in again and she fought them off as best she could, getting strong punches and kicks in to sensitive body parts every chance she was able.

After what seemed an eternity, the tent flap opened and a man entered, shadowed by the large bonfire blazing outside. "Stop now, or he dies."

Gabrielle froze as the man stepped slightly to the right, revealing the knife he held to Tao Feng’s long, thin neck. In that instant, the bard knew exactly what it felt like to be Xena during the first couple years of their travels together.

She found she didn’t like it one bit.

Raising her hands, she allowed the men to close in around her once more. She gritted her teeth against the almost overwhelming instinct to lash out against their coarse hands as they dug into her flesh.

The man smiled, the scars on his face giving it a lopsided, evil look. "That’s right, little girl. Play nice and the old man here stays alive."

"What do you want with me," Gabrielle ground out, trying to keep her breathing steady.

"We don’t want you, little girl. The Conqueror does."

Lewd chuckles filled the tent.

"In the middle of the night?"

The man shrugged, then grinned again. "They say that’s when she does her best work."

Laughter rang out again.

"I’ll be sure and tell her you said so," Gabrielle said, smiling insincerely.

The smile disappeared from his face. "Say one word, bitch, and your friend here sees what it’s like to breathe through the hole I’ll put in his neck."

"Fine. Take me to her then."

***

Xena lounged back into the deep well of her throne, garbed in a blue silk robe whose sheerness and cut drove her interior door-guard into periodic fits of apoplexy every time his eyes rose to gaze upon her.

Callisto stalked the huge room like a caged beast, her boot heels ringing on the stone flooring, only to be muffled as she stepped onto the lush carpeting which laid a crimson path to the throne. Her expression was decidedly gleeful as she paced, twirling locks of her long, blonde hair with every step she took.

Hearing the commotion before anyone else, the Conqueror gestured for the door to be opened, which it was, to admit Gabrielle surrounded by her retinue of guards. Walking the young woman to the throne, the guards bowed and the largest of them brought a knee to Gabrielle’s back as an enticement to kneel.

Stepping forward, Gabrielle ignored the blunt summons. Then, locking eyes with Callisto, she slowly, deliberately lowered herself to her knees before the throne, her back straight, her head unbowed.

Looking up at her guards, the Conqueror hid her amused smirk at their dishevelment. One was sporting an already blackening eye, another was rubbing at his throat, and another was holding himself ramrod straight, sweat beading between his bushy brows. Xena well imagined what had been done to him to cause that type of expression. With a flick of her hand, she dismissed the guards, who bowed and exited the room with alacrity.

Anger flashed in Callisto’s dark eyes, but she tempered it with a smirk. "So, the little Amazon knows something about protocol after all, does she? What a plus!"

Ignoring the taunt, Gabrielle turned her eyes to Xena’s, ignoring the temptation to let her gaze wander lower to take in the generous and supple curves so barely hidden by the sheer fabric. "I believe you sent for me?"

The corner of Xena’s mouth curved upwards fractionally in appreciation of Gabrielle’s bold move.

Callisto stepped forward, intentionally towering over the kneeling woman, her eyes alight with absolute knowledge and insane glee. "I believe we haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Callisto. And I am the Conqueror’s partner."

Gabrielle turned her eyes back to her tormentor, well aware of Callisto’s tactics and refusing to rise to the bait being dangled. Instead, she smiled sweetly. "How wonderful for you."

Taken off guard, Callisto’s response was automatic. She drew her hand back swiftly, fully intending to wipe the grin from the bard’s face.

"Callisto..."

The low-voiced rumble of the warning was ominous and Callisto quickly dropped her hand. Instead, she smiled. "It will be so delightful to hear how that pretty tongue of yours speaks when it’s being ripped out of your head like the Roman spies you sent into the camp last night, dear."

Now it was Gabrielle’s turn to be taken off-guard. She had thought that her enforced visit had sprung directly from the young woman she’d rescued from the cross. During her short journey into the castle, she’d thought up many arguments to explain her actions. Now she was being accused of something else altogether. "I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about," she replied honestly.

Callisto laughed. "Oh come now, my dear. Even those fat lumps of goat dung you brought in here thought up more inventive excuses than that! And you call yourself a bard."

The tall blonde froze as she realized her mistake. Gabrielle, however, grinned and pounced. "I believe you have me confused with someone else, Callisto. I’m a healer. Not a bard."

Gabrielle turned her head in time to catch Xena looking at Callisto, a speculative expression on her face. Feeling the gaze, Callisto looked back, smiling innocently. "I heard the soldiers talk about her skill at telling stories."

Gabrielle groaned inwardly, forgetting that she had, indeed, attempted to cheer up the injured men by telling them stories. Still, it was good to know that there were chinks in Callisto’s armor. That gave her hope. "I won’t deny that I told the men stories. If that makes me a bard in your eyes, so be it."

"Well I, for one, would just love to hear the little tale you’ve concocted to explain just how you managed to show up here on the very day our men were attacked and the Roman spies were found trying to run away."

"Coincidence."

Callisto threw back her head and laughed. "’Coincidence’? Surely you can do better than that, can’t you?"

"It’s the truth, and you know it, Callisto."

Grinning wildly, Callisto looked down at Gabrielle, fingering the hollow of her neck. "Oh I do, do I?" Her smile became a snarl. "The only thing I know, you annoying little brat, is that Persian soldiers dressed as Egyptians attacked the Conqueror’s men in an obvious attempt to allow three Roman spies to escape with some sort of information which cost them their tongues and hands."

Callisto smirked at Gabrielle’s pained wince.

"And all the while, a strange woman bearing the staff of an Amazon Queen coincidentally happens to find herself in the middle of the mayhem." She turned to the watching Conqueror. "Are you buying this load of dung?"

When Xena didn’t answer, Callisto turned back to Gabrielle, who spoke first. "I was fighting those men, Callisto, same as you were."

"Ohhhhh, you were fighting them. With what? Your little stick? Bet you didn’t kill any though, did you."

Gabrielle gritted her teeth. "I. Don’t. Kill."

Callisto smiled sweetly. "Of course you don’t, dear. How fortunate for the ‘enemy’ you’re fighting against."

Clenching her fists, the bard managed to keep a hold on a temper that was growing more heated by the second.

"But then again, you always were too much of a goody-goody to relish a good kill, weren’t you."

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Callisto paled, frozen to the spot. Forcing her muscles to move, she slowly turned her head, only to be captured by a pair of glittering blue eyes. "That...didn’t quite come out the way I meant it to."

"I’m sure it didn’t," Xena replied, leaning slowly forward in her chair, her smile dark and hungry.

"I could explain - "

"Leave."

"But - "

"Leave."

Making her first truly wise decision of the evening, the Conqueror’s second in command spun on her heel and, after shooting a deadly glare toward the still kneeling Gabrielle, strode from the room as quickly as her legs could carry her.

After the door closed, Xena rose gracefully to her feet and closed the distance between herself and Gabrielle. "Get up." Her voice was deathly soft.

The bard stood quickly, ignoring the swimming sensation in her head, a sensation caused as much from the abrupt change in position as from the sudden and menacing presence of Xena just inches away. Still, she managed to meet the Conqueror’s eyes without fear.

"How do you know Callisto."

Gabrielle’s mind whirled with a thousand thoughts as the words suddenly dried up in her throat.

Reaching out, Xena tilted the younger woman’s chin upward, her grip biting. "Answer me quickly, Amazon, or the fate of those Roman spies will be the Elysian Fields compared to what I’ll do to you."

Swallowing hard, Gabrielle decided to go with what she knew.

The truth.

Or as much of it as she could reveal, given the circumstances.

"She killed my husband," she said softly.

Xena felt a brief moment of shock, that being the last answer she would have suspected, but refrained from letting it show. She continued to stare silently at the smaller woman, waiting.

"We had only been married a day, and we were both unarmed, but she killed him anyway in cold blood."

"So your being here was a ruse to get you close enough to take your revenge on her."

Gabrielle’s eyes flashed. "No. When I said I didn’t kill, I was telling you the truth." She took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "I wanted to kill her at the time. I wanted to rip her heart out and feed it to her." She dropped her eyes, remembering. "But I didn’t."

Xena was intrigued. "And why was that."

"Because a friend convinced me that losing my blood innocence over someone like Callisto just wasn’t worth it. And she was right."

"And where is that ‘friend’ now?"

Gabrielle looked back up, staring deep into Xena’s penetrating eyes and speaking a truth in her heart. "She’s dead."

"Then there’s really nothing stopping you from going after Callisto, is there."

Green eyes blazed with determination. "Yes, there is. My friend may be gone, but her message, and her love, lives on in my heart. And no one can take that away from me. Not Callisto. Not even you."

Dropping her hand away from Gabrielle’s face, Xena turned and walked back to her throne, lowering herself into the seat with fluid grace. She smiled slightly; the first expression of true emotion Gabrielle had seen from her. "You intrigue me, Amazon. At first I thought you a simple spy, perhaps in collusion with Callisto. But you have depths to you which reach far beyond that."

Gabrielle looked up, stunned. "Would you mind, uh,  backing up a little? 'In collusion with Callisto?’ What does that mean, exactly?"

The bard’s heart twisted slightly as the familiar and beloved gesture of Xena’s characteristic eyebrow-raise was directed at her. "Perhaps I should reassess my opinion of your intelligence."

"Are you trying to tell me you know that Callisto’s out to get you?" Gabrielle asked, wide-eyed.

The Conqueror gestured toward the room around her. "One doesn’t attain this type of position without being well aware of what’s going on around oneself." Her eyes, though, spoke other messages, ones of betrayal and trusts brutally broken, of lessons learned the hard way, and of the absolute determination never to let it happen again.

Confused, Gabrielle scratched at the back of her neck. "Forgive me for saying this then, but why in the world do you keep her around?"

Xena’s smile became dark. "Keep your friends close; your enemies closer."

"But you said you don’t have any friends."

"Exactly."

"And am I your enemy?"

"As I said, I have no friends."

Gabrielle’s gaze shone with compassion. "That’s a very lonely way to live a life."

Xena’s eyebrow went up again. "That depends on who’s living it."

"I disagree," Gabrielle replied, warming to her subject. "To live without love is something none of us should be forced to experience."

The Conqueror snorted. "Love is a myth told to beggars by bards to let them forget the hunger in their bellies. It is a weakness to anyone who thinks they possess it."

"You’re wrong," Gabrielle said, forgetting, in her passion, just who she was talking to. "Love does exist. It’s not a weakness. It’s a strength."

"Spoken like a true zealot." Looking over the bard’s left shoulder, Xena gestured with one hand, causing Gabrielle to look in that direction and watch as two gorgeous women walked gracefully forward from the shadows. The smaller of the two, a beautiful Asian, bore a large bowl in her hands, while the taller woman held a gem-encrusted decanter and matching goblet. When they reached the throne, Niamey and Ling Li knelt down and held up their offerings to the Conqueror.

Gabrielle fought down the tiny seed of jealousy that threatened to raise its head over the display.

At Xena’s nod, Niamey poured the liquid from the decanter into the goblet, then handed it to her Ruler.

Drinking deep of the sweet wine, the Conqueror used her other hand to reach into the bowl of oiled olives, her long, slim fingers plucking one from the rest and casually popping it into her mouth. As she separated the meat from the pit, Xena looked down at the young blonde, watching the healer watch her lips. "Tell me, Amazon," she said, almost casually, "when my men put that young woman on the cross, did you feel her pain?"

Gabrielle’s eyes narrowed. "Yes. She didn’t deserve to be executed for giving the people hope."

Fishing another olive from the bowl, the Conqueror nodded, expecting the answer she received. "How is she, by the way?" she asked, eyeing the ripe olive as if it were a rare and precious jewel.

Gabrielle just managed to keep her jaw from dropping open at the casually uttered question. She swallowed hard as her heart sped its rate in her chest. "She’s safe."

"Mmm."

The bard willed Xena to meet her gaze, but the Conqueror continued to roll the olive between her fingers, watching as the light from the torches played off its shining skin.

"It’s just as well. The girl meant very little to me in any case." It was then that Xena looked up, her gaze intense with knowledge. "The message was received, as intended." She smiled slightly. "And I should thank you for your act. You managed to prevent me further troubles down the road."

"I don’t understand."

"You mean you didn’t see my little display?"

"What display?"

Xena rose gracefully to her feet and stepped between her two attendants. "Come," she said to Gabrielle, who followed her to the window.

Upon looking out, the bard gasped.

Where one empty cross had stood just hours before, six now stood, each bearing the body of a slowly dying soldier.

"If it hadn’t been for your rescue of the girl, I might not have known until too late that members of my Royal Guard could be so easily duped by a parlor trick." Xena bowed slightly, mockingly. "So, thank you for that. You saved me a great deal of trouble."

Gritting her teeth in angry frustration, Gabrielle whirled away from the window and strode once again into the center of the room, breathing heavily to keep from giving vent to her anger and horror.

Turning from the window, Xena leaned back against the cool stone, crossing her arms and smirking at the angry young healer. "So you see, Amazon, what you call ‘love’ is a weakness. For every person you save in its name, six more die because of it. Not a very profitable venture."

"Profit?! We’re talking about human lives here and you’re worried about profit?" Gabrielle’s eyes blazed with righteous indignation. "What kind of a monster are you??"

The Conqueror sneered. "A very powerful one."

Threading her hands through her own hair, Gabrielle pulled at it, shaking her head. "No. No, I’m not going to let you pull me down to your level. I won’t." Releasing her head, the bard looked up at the Conqueror, who was still smirking at her from beside the casement. "Xena, I know that beneath those trappings of godhood and feigned indifference, there’s a woman in there capable of compassion and love. I know it."

Pushing herself away from the wall, Xena walked over to Gabrielle, stopping just inches away. "Don’t delude yourself, Amazon. Others before you held the same convictions." The corner of her mouth curled. "They don’t feel that way anymore."

"No?" Gabrielle turned her head and looked over at Niamey and Ling Li, who were watching the proceedings avidly, if obliquely. "What about them?" She turned her gaze back to the woman towering over her. "I saw the looks in their eyes when they served you, Xena. And that look was love. If they can love you, there must be something inside you worthy of that emotion."

Xena looked at the two women still kneeling by her throne. As one, they blushed deeply, then looked down, heads bowed in unison. She turned back to Gabrielle, one hand reaching out to cup the young woman’s chin. "I’ll show you what they ‘love’ about me."

Lowering her head slowly, the Conqueror captured her healer’s lips in a kiss filled with animal passion. At first, Gabrielle sunk into it, the feelings the familiar action engendered too strong to resist. Her hands moved of their own accord, reaching up to tangle in Xena’s thick, fragrant hair and pull the taller woman more closely against her.

After a moment, though, her mind caught up to her hormones and she pulled away, trying to steady her rapid breathing and fluttering pulse. "That was lust, Xena. Don’t confuse it with love."

Xena smiled. "In the darkness of the night, the line between the two often becomes blurred." She pulled the smaller woman in close once more, pressing her lips against Gabrielle’s, before grasping her wrist in an iron grip and whirling around. "Niamey, draw a bath. Now."

"Don’t do this, Xena," Gabrielle said, struggling fruitlessly to disengage from the Conqueror’s vice grip.

"Monsters can do anything they wish, Amazon. And you’re about to find out exactly what this monster wishes to do to you."

"Xena..." Continuing her struggle, Gabrielle looked desperately over to the two silent servants, seeking help. Niamey had already arisen at her Ruler’s order, and Ling Li lowered her eyes in shame as the bard’s gaze touched hers.

Ignoring the healer’s attempts at escape, Xena strode forward toward her bathing chamber, giving Gabrielle little recourse but to stumble along behind the dark Empress or risk having her arm torn from its socket. Though she had firsthand knowledge of Xena’s legendary strength, that knowing didn’t stop her attempts to free herself in the slightest.

It also didn’t give her any success in the venture.

Upon entering the bathing chamber, Gabrielle was tossed into the arms of a surprised Niamey, who just managed to keep them both from toppling backwards into the rapidly filling tub. The tall African wrapped both arms around the smaller woman and steadied them both before releasing Gabrielle and looking over her head toward the sneering Conqueror, eyebrows raised in silent question.

"See to it that she’s cleaned and bring her to my rooms."

"Yes, Majesty."

Xena turned away, then looked back slightly over one broad shoulder. "I wouldn’t think of escaping if I were you. If you succeed, they’ll pay."

Gabrielle didn’t even bother to look up, having long since figured that Xena would seek to teach yet another lesson by using the bard’s compassion against her. Instead, she began to calmly undo the blouse so painstakingly re-sewn by Tao Feng’s talented hands, a part of her even managing to look forward to the first hot bath she’d enjoy in long weeks.

***

Freshly bathed and proudly naked, Gabrielle walked into the Conqueror’s private sleeping quarters, flanked on either side by Niamey and Ling Li.

Xena’s gaze was hot upon her as she walked forward, stopping only when she came close enough to feel the heat emanating from her avid watcher’s body. The Conqueror still wore her sheer robe, though it was unbelted and open enough to show the innermost curves of her breasts and the tiniest hint of the silken skin of her taut abdomen.

Looking down into the searing gaze, Gabrielle smiled; an open, sunny expression without a trace of fear or lust she knew the Conqueror would expect.

Xena’s eyes narrowed.

The bard’s smile broadened..

"What game are you playing, Amazon?"

"Gabrielle."

"What?"

"My name. Gabrielle. It occurs to me that you’ve never used it." She cocked her head slightly. "Why is that?"

Xena’s gaze sharpened and her lips parted in a soundless snarl, yet she made no move to capture the alluring body standing to tauntingly close to her own.

"Could it be that my name makes me a person, like you? Is that why you won’t use it?"

Growling, the Conqueror lashed out and captured Gabrielle’s wrist, pulling her down onto the bed and onto her back, covering the smaller woman with her larger body.

Gabrielle forced herself to lie still and pliant under the Conqueror’s ravishing lips, neither spurning nor encouraging the primal advances.

After a moment, Xena pulled away, looking down at her.

"I won’t fight you, Xena. If that’s what you’re looking for, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed."

The Conqueror smiled. "Oh," she purred, "I don’t think I will."

Again, the bard forced herself not to react. It was a difficult task, with half of her body wanting nothing more than to respond to the familiar fires Xena was stoking in her body, and the other half screaming all-out rebellion against the Conqueror’s actions. With effort, she drew upon the meditative techniques the warrior herself had taught her to remain as still and relaxed as possible as Xena’s hands followed her lips on a trek over Gabrielle’s sleek body.

After several more moments, Xena again pulled back. "Am I keeping you awake?"

Opening her eyes, Gabrielle stared up into the sardonic blue’s above her. "You wanted my body, Xena. You have it. My soul isn’t yours to take."

Grinning with malicious intent, Xena palmed one of Gabrielle’s breasts, squeezing slightly. "Oh? And who is the proud owner of such a prize?"

Taking in a deep breath, Gabrielle forced herself to remember that the cruel and calculating woman above her was the same person, down to the last molecule, as the woman who did own what the Conqueror couldn’t take. That, but for the simple intervention of one brave man, her Xena and this Xena would be one in the same.

Letting go the breath, she put all the boundless love she held for her soulmate into the strength of her gaze, staring directly into the stormy eyes of the Ruler of Greece.

Caught in the untold power of the gaze, Xena pulled sharply away as if burned, her own eyes wide and blinking, yet not having the strength to look away.

Gabrielle smiled, a soft and gentle expression, and tenderly lifted her palm to place flat against Xena’s cheek. "Love is the answer, Xena," she whispered.

For the briefest of seconds, Xena leaned her cheek into the warm palm of her healer, something in her drawn to the almost maternal comfort offered.

Then, as if coming fully into herself once again, she jerked her face away, then removed her hand from Gabrielle’s breast and flung the young woman from her bed to sprawl in an untidy heap on the cold stone floor. She looked up, eyes blazing. "Ling Li, call a guard."

Bowing hurriedly, the Chinese woman gathered up the folds of her colorful robe and dashed away on bare feet.

Rolling out of the bed, Xena grabbed Gabrielle by her already bruised and swollen wrist and pulled her to her feet, her eyes blazing. "Whatever sorcery you’re conjuring won’t work with me, Amazon. You’re very close to having your life ended simply because it would please me to do so." She grabbed the bard more tightly and shook her. "Don’t press your luck."

Before Gabrielle could think to reply—had one even been formulating in her head—Ling Li returned, a strapping guard in tow.

Xena pushed the healer away and into the professional hands of the older guard. "Confine her to one of the rooms in this hall and guard her well. If she isn’t in my throne room at dawn, you’ll be joining your fellows on the crosses outside. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Majesty."

"Leave me. All of you."

***

The castle servants had cleaned quite well and, lacking anything new or priceless to break, Callisto sat on her bed, thrusting her knife through the feather mattress and silk sheets, her face a twisted mask of anger.

When the half-expected light began to coalesce in her room, the warrior threw her knife, not at all surprised to find Ares, fully formed, tossing it in his hand and grinning. "Now, is that any way to great an old friend?"

"I’m sorry. Did someone make us ‘friends’ when I wasn’t looking?"

Laughing heartily, Ares flipped the knife back at Callisto, who caught it easily and slipped it into the sheath at her waist. "What do you want,." she asked, scowling.

The war-god shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood. Figured I’d pop in and see how things were going."

"You know damn well how things are going, Ares. That annoying little bitch is going to ruin everything!"

"And which annoying little bitch would that be again?" At Callisto’s murderous glare, Ares grinned. "Oh. That annoying little bitch." He shrugged again, the leather going tight against his shoulders and chest. "It’s not as if I didn’t warn you."

Callisto laughed mirthlessly. "Fat lot of good that did, Ares. Xena and the little brat are probably in her room right now going at it like rabbits!"

"Unfortunately, no." Ares sighed in affected disappointment. "I was hoping for a hot and heavy session of girl/girl action, but no dice, I’m afraid. Seems the little do-gooder pissed Xena off and spoiled the mood." He sighed again.

"I’m terribly sorry for the waste of a perfectly good hard-on, Ares, but that information, fascinating as it is, really doesn’t help me with my little problem, now does it."

"Who said I was trying to help? You’re the one who can’t keep her stories straight, not me."

Callisto’s dark eyes narrowed. "And you were enjoying every second of it, weren’t you."

Ares grinned. "Call me a sucker for a good tap-dance."

When Callisto didn’t rise to the bait, Ares contented himself with looking around the nearly denuded room. His gaze fell upon a heavy wooden table that had somehow managed to withstand the blonde’s insane rage. "Hello, what do we have here?"

Lacking anything better to do, Callisto rose to her feet and walked over to the table, looking down at the inlaid object that Ares was rubbing his index finger against. Then she looked up at the dark god. "It’s called a ‘rock’. Pry it out, why don’t you? I’m sure it’ll make a perfect match to the ones already in your head."

"Play nice, Callisto, or I’ll start to wonder why you don’t recognize the importance of this stone and give it to my sister instead. We all know how much she likes her little baubles." Ares stuck a finger in his mouth in a faux gag.

"Oh please fill me in, Ares. Won’t you?"

The god of war smirked. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." Using his powers, Ares easily levitated the stone into his palm, then tossed it lightly into the air, grinning. "Are you sure you don’t recognize it?"

Snarling, Callisto made a grab for the stone and missed, badly.

"Ah, ah, ah. You didn’t say the magic word."

"Bite me," the blonde growled.

"Close enough." As Ares bent forward, teeth bared, Callisto slipped away, grabbing the stone at the same time and peering closely at it. She then looked up at Ares, eyebrows raised.

"That, my dear, just happens to be the Ixion Stone."

Callisto looked back to the stone in her hand, disbelief stamped clearly across her features. "This is the Ixion Stone?"

Ares cocked his head. "I think that hearing problem of yours is getting worse. I’d see a healer about it pretty soon if I were you." He grinned. "Gabrielle’d be perfect for the job."

Callisto pointedly ignored Ares’ taunt as she stared at the stone in her hand. "So this is why that incompetent little piece of goat dung follows Xena around like a drowned puppy."

Ares folded his arms across his massive chest. "And which piece of goat dung would we be talking about now?"

Looking up, Callisto bared her teeth in an evil grin. "Dagnine, of course. This stone is the only goal in his miserable little life. Xena must be holding it over his head to insure that he does her bidding." Her eyelids fluttered closed. "She’s soooo good."

"That she is, my dear. That she most definitely is."

"Won’t he be surprised when he finds out who has this little trinket now?" Throwing her head back, she laughed, rattling the stone in her hand. Her eyes snapped open as a delicious idea popped into her head. "That’s it! I’ll use him to get the annoying brat out of the way, then use Xena to get him out of the way! It’s perfect!"

The war god pointed an enthusiastic finger at Callisto. "You have a really evil mind. I like that in a woman."

"Spare me."

Ares smoothed his beard and smiled. "Too bad Dagnine isn’t a storyteller like Gabrielle," he said after a moment.

"And why is that?"

"Because then, you could kill two bards with one stone! Get it?" Laughing uproariously, Ares sparkled out of existence, leaving a groaning Callisto behind.

[haunting-your-dash]

[Snow Flower] [Chapter 1: Meet and Greet]

“My god…” The twins looked around the now near destroyed city of Greachen.

“Looks about the same as everywhere else” Cas said as he finds a stall that hadn’t been too badly destroyed and steals the rest of the dried goat.

“I will never understand how you can eat in a place like this-”

“Oh look, unmolded potatoes.” Mira hears this and swipes up the bag of potatoes.

“Shut up don’t say anything!” she growls, her face bright red. Cas chuckles.

“Oh course not dear sister” her brother can’t help but be amused by how cute his sister could be.

“Let’s head to the outskirts and get a fire going, oh but first we should see what spices are around” Mira was in a better mood with the idea of roasting her favorite food with any spices she could find. Cas just rolls his eyes as he helps his hopeless sister find the spices she wants.

Mira was humming happily as she and Cas looked for a building to hide out it. As they explored they saw a speaker leaving one hut and caught the tail end of what sounded like brotherly banter.

“Eat shit and die.”

“Yes fuck you.”

The two men laughed as the twins came around the corner.

“A Belmont?” Mira spoke out making the two men turn toward the twins.

“And you are?” Trevor raised an eyebrow looking annoyed and a little on edge.

Mira opened her mouth only for her brother to cut her off. “Amature demon hunters” her tall brother smiles sweetly.

“It is an hour to meet a Belmont we feared they’d all died out.” Trevor looked like he trusted them even less, making Mira give him a look.

“I am Mira and this is my twin brother Cas. We’ve been traveling around trying to help where we can.” she stretches revealing a scar on her left arm.

“Trevor.” the Belmont said.

“And I am Alucard. A Pleasure.” Alucard gives a small, polite smile.

Mira smiles in return.

“We just got ourselves some food and were looking for a place to cook, we’d be happy to share with you” she smiles kindly.

Trevor and Alucard exchange a look before Trevor's stomach growled. Alucard gave him a deadpan look and sighed.

“It seems you have your answer” the blond man says.

Cas wasn’t exactly thrilled to share any food but he relented and cut the meat into equal parts, saving some for the speaker the men said would return soon. Mira in the meantime wrapped the potatoes in what looks like big leaves before throwing them into a fire.

“I’ve...never seen food made that way” the blond man came over to sit next to Mira. He seemed curious about what she was making.

“Where I come from, this is a special treat, potatoes do not grow easily back home”

“And where are you from?” Alucard asks curiously.

“The far north.” she responds before Cas can stop her. Trevor coughs in surprise.

“Wait are you both Romanov’s?” he glares at them making Cas give his sister a look that says ‘Good going’.

Mira blushes and clears her throat.

“N-No, though we’ve heard tales of them. They slept with demons or something right?” it enraged her to continue the slander against her family, it was ONE person and they’d been put to death. But now everyone pegged their family as demon fuckers.

Trevor looked suspicious. “Right…”

This is when Sypha returned. “When did we add to our merry band?” she asks looking annoyed. “We have food” Cas offers her the goat meat.

Sypha started to protest then sighed.

“Fine.” she took her share and sat with the rest of the group.

Later that evening….

“So you two are just traveling around fighting the legions of the night?” Sypha looked impressed.

“Da, We do what we can, my sister makes medicine and helps heal the sick and I fight off what I can.” Cas smiles charmingly making the speaker blush shyly.

“What kind of medicine do you use?” Alucard raises a brow.

“I mix herbs and substances” she says vaguely. “I’m not a master, I can make salves, and herbal teas”

By this point, while they seemed to put up with the twins presence. All 3 people seem to understand the twins are hiding something.

“Why don’t we join you?” Cas finally speaks making his sister look at him confused.

“Excuse me?” Trevor gives him a look.

“Well, you 3 are going against the army of the night da? Why not add to your numbers to increase the odds of success. My Sister and I both know how to fight. My sister with her bow and I with my great-sword.” he reasons.

“Besides that we know how to get food from literally anywhere, you’d never have to worry.”

The 3 looked at each other a moment before lowering their voices to discuss.

“Sister do you have any of your salve left?” he asks while they talk, seeming to ignore the fact they were watching the exchange.

“Da, is it your eye?” her voice became soft, looking at him as he nods “Da, don’t worry it’s not that bad” he gives her a smile as she touches his face sadly. “Here” she removes his eye patch to reveal a large star shaped scar on his right eye. It looked like some parts were still healing.

The three went silent as his sister applied the cream looking like she’d done this before.

“Ty takoy idiot” (You are such an idiot) she spoke in her native tongue making Trevor and Sypha look confused. Alucard kept silent, he didn’t want to let on he could understand them.

“Da, da, ya tozhe lyublyu tebya, sestra.” (Yes, yes, I love you too sister.) he smiles tenderly as she puffs her cheeks at him.

“Ty ne vsegda dolzhen zashchishchat' menya! Chto yesli otets ubil tebya!” (You don't always have to protect me! What if father killed you!) she protests shyly.

“Togda ya by s radost'yu umer, yesli by eto oznachalo uvidet' tebya svobodnym ot bezumiya ottsa.” (Then I would have gladly died, if it meant seeing you free from father's madness.)

Mira sighed and finished her work before pressing her forehead to his.

“Vot pochemu ty idiot .... dumay o sebe bol'she ... glupo …” (That is why you are an idiot....think of yourself more...stupid…)

“I hate to interrupt” Trevor broke the twins from their thoughts. Mira jumped and blushed shyly looking away flustered. Cas returns the patch to his eye. “You have come to a decision then?” he smiles as if nothing happened.

“Yes well, your logic seems to be sound, you can come with us, for now, but if you do anything to stab us in the back we WILL kill you, without hesitation” he warned.

Cas puts his hands up with that same sweet smile on his face. “Of course, it is a deal then!” he holds his hand out for Trevor to shake.

They two shake hands firmly. The deal was done.

“Now! Shall we get some rest? It seems we travel tomorrow.” Mira was already on their side of the hut before her brother came to join her.

“Should we be worried about...how close those two are?” Sypha whispered. “I’m not thinking about it goodnight” Trevor dismissed looking absolutely done and not wanting to go down that train of thought.

“I’ll stand first watch then.” Alucard announces as he sits on the edge of the house wall.

“Good night then!”

“Good night.”

[squiddybeifong]

Alliances, Chapter 4

Read on Ao3 here:

--

Raven leaned her weight on the princess as she was led to her room. Cassandra kept running her fingers through her hair as she tried to have her sit, but the mage had been too shaky. Mahogany eyes worriedly followed the older woman’s flustered pacing for a few moments before she stood. Raven had jolted when the noble grabbed her wrist and led her to the desk, deftly opening the drawer to find the ink and pens.

Cassandra looked at her expectantly, softly running her hand along the mage’s back. Raven swallowed and nodded, a heavy breath leaving her as her shoulders sagged. Slowly, hesitancy still coiling in her muscles, the Azarathian began to write.

The princess leaned her head on Raven’s shoulder, humming softly as she listened to the faint scratch of pen on paper. She paid no mind to the muscles in her back screaming at her hunched over posture. Her eyes shot open as Raven crumpled the scroll into a ball. She tugged on the indigo cloak, confused.

Without bothering to answer her silent question the mage unrolled another scroll and started anew. As she did so, she scooted over until she was half off her chair, patting the free space with her hand. Cassandra giggled as she joined her, pleased despite the awkward position. She snuggled against the healer, slowly taking in the odd script that Azarathian was written in. The princess sighed as she let her eyes shut, wrapped in the scent of tea and ink. A yawn escaped, the time of night finally catching up to her.

After nearly half a mark of writing and rewriting, editing and re-editing, smoothing out scrolls and refilling her ink, Raven held the letter out in front of her. She weakly smiled at her words, rereading it once over to check that she didn’t seem too overbearing. Taking a deep breath, she sought to console herself; Arella was surely fine, nothing to be worried about. Cassandra’s warmth on her side was enough to convince her of that.

Still, she wouldn’t be able to send off the letter for another few marks…

Deciding to reread her words for the third time, Raven hadn’t noticed her companion dozing until a faint snore sounded near her ear. She paused and shifted, letting out a little huff of surprise when Cassandra all but flopped into her lap.

Smiling despite her blush, Raven stretched and maneuvered until she stood. Cassandra did not wake up, instead curling up even more in the chair. The mage considered her for a long moment, then turned to the window, noting the late hour.

Her lips pulled into a thin line as she realized that she had no idea where the princess’ room (or any of the Waynes’ rooms, come to think of it) was. Accepting that waking up a servant was out of the question, Raven softly scooped Cassandra up, her knees nearly buckling from the effort. Forcing herself to breathe slowly (while cursing herself for being out of shape), the mage laid her on the bed.

Quickly tucking her skirts up, she covered the princess with the quilt. Sighing tenderly, she looked Cassandra over once again then leaned against the back of her chair, skimming over her letter for the fourth time.

Her fingertip ran over the last line. Satisfied when no ink came off, she rolled the scroll and tied a string around it. The mage quickly made her way down to the kitchen, hiding a smile at how familiar some of the hallways were becoming. She left the letter on the kitchen table, ensuring that her name and Azarath’s stamp was present to see. Nodding to herself that Sir Alfred would see it when he and the cooks started breakfast in a few marks, she picked up the hem of her cloak and quickly padded up the stairs and back to her room.

Cassandra hadn’t roused in the minute she was gone. Curled up on her side, the princess took up less than half of the bed. Normally, the mage knew that two women having to share a bed due to uncommon circumstances wasn’t brow-raising. But with them? Amethyst eyes briefly flicked to the royal’s lips, remembering their near kiss in the kitchen. Raven bit her lip and let out a breath, considering her options.

After a minute she ran a hand over her face, feeling a blush start to heat up her cheeks. Nimbly, she climbed in bed next to the princess, making sure to keep a hand’s length of space between them; for courtesy’s sake, she laid on her side, facing the window and not Cassandra. Glancing over her shoulder at her current bed-mate for the night, Raven shut her eyes and began to meditate, silently murmuring out, “Azarath. Mentrion. Zinthos,” until sleep overtook her.

A few marks later a crow landed on the mage’s windowsill. Careful around the clinking vials, its cubby beak opened and the bird shrieked into the room, indignant at the lack of snacks that morning. Raven blearily opened her eyes and tried to turn around, squinting as the light hit her eyes. Her pupils shrunk and she sighed, sinking back into the heavy warmth that pressed against her chest.

She wrapped her arms around the warmth, nuzzling the mass of soft strands and hearing it coo out in response. Raven signed again, pulling as close as possible as she tried to fall asleep again. After a long minute, the mage’s eyes snapped open and she tensed, her hands becoming awkward against the warmth.

A warmth that, as she was now very aware of, was Cassandra.

The princess let out a high pitched grumble and scooted closer, burying her nose in the crook of the older woman’s neck. Raven blushed red, the hazy fog in her mind immediately evaporating as she became more and more cognizant of their tangled limbs. Cassandra shifted again and the healer cleared her throat, a shiver sliding down her spine. Trying to ignore the warmth that tingled at each and every spot where they touched, Raven nudged the woman.

“My Princess?” She murmured, her tone higher than usual. Mauve eyes winced shut at the nervous crack in her voice. If Cassandra noticed, she didn’t comment, even as the Azarathian continued, “Umm, my Princess? Are you awake? You, uh, you spent the night. In my room.” She paused, and after a beat of silence, “Ahem, uh, in my bed as well.”

Cassandra lazily lifted her head in response, the ghost of her breath blowing over Raven’s pulse. The mage stilled and the princess blearily watched, intrigued, as the blush visibly crept down her pale neck and pooled at her collar. Smiling a bit, the royal propped herself up on an elbow, rubbing at her eyes.

Raven gaped at her, not bothering to move her hands from Cassandra’s waist. She watched as the noble ran her fingers through her bedhead, chuckling a bit as she sat up fully. Finding a smile slide onto her face despite her nervousness, Raven poked at the princess’ side, “Sleep well?”

Cassandra nodded, her arms raising as she stretched. Tilting her face to the ceiling, she hid her smile at the mage’s little gasp. She turned to look at the older woman, mahogany eyes flicking from her face to her stomach when a low grumble sounded. A tan hand motioned to the door, her brows jumping teasingly.

Running a hand through her long hair, Raven smiled shyly, “I need to bathe first. Perhaps I can prepare you some tea as well?” At the princess’ nod, she rolled out of bed and smoothed down her cloak. Her eyes flicked to the younger woman then shot to the floor as Cassandra stood and stretched again, readjusting her skirts to cover her legs.

Confidently, Cassandra winked at the mage and slid out the door, the click sounding in both the mage’s room and the hallway a second later. Simultaneously, Raven kneeled on her bed and Cassandra leaned against the wall, covering their hands over their blushing faces. The healer shoved her head into a pillow, her legs kicking as she laughed into it, the nervous, incredulous peal of happiness hidden in the cushion.  

Nearly two marks later Raven left the rest of the Waynes in the Hall as she carefully maneuvered the route that Sir Alfred explained to her. Luckily, the retired knight had not been suspicious when Raven sent off her letter; in fact, he had been grateful that she hadn't held off an additional day, lest the extra squadron set for Azarath have to make another trip. After learning the news the mage had set off for the stables.

Grinning when she didn’t get lost on the way, she softly pushed aside the stable doors, eyes wide at the sheer size of the animals within. Azarath didn’t keep horses; all their husbandry attempts were used for either food or clothing. And while sheep and goats could get big, she never needed to look up to see their eyes. Her pale hands pet the horses’ manes while the soldiers packed up, running the pads of her fingers over their snouts and letting them eat sugar cubes and carrot stems off her palms. A man cleared his throat behind her and she turned, jumping a bit as she craned her neck up to see his face. The tall bearded leader tucked her letter away in his tunic for safe keeping and, after one more quick brush along the steeds’ hides, the healer watched as the group of twenty headed off. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, closing her eyes as the quiet of the now empty stable surrounded her.

Behind her, a man cleared his throat.

Raven let out a gasp and whirled around like a guilty child. At the sight of the royal she released a shaky breath, a hand clutching at her chest, “Prince Timothy! Oh, please don’t sneak up on me like that.”

The younger man grinned at her, his emotions tight despite his smile, “I’ll try.”

“You better. Three times makes it a habit,” He laughed at that and Raven stepped up next to him, looking up at him expectantly. He held out an arm and she took it, unsurprised when he started to lead her back the way she came.

The mage allowed him a minute of silence, then asked, “I assume you all have conjured up a plan? Something to do with -- I’m assuming -- the Jester and that scroll your brothers brought back two nights ago?” She didn’t bother looking at the prince when his steps faltered, instead pulling him along as they turned a corner.

Amethyst eyes glanced at him, a sly smirk curling her lips, “I should hope none of you thought me as an idiot, my Prince.”

He sighed, an honest smile coming as he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head, “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

“I thought it was because I talk back to Prince Damian.”

Raven squeezed his arm as he laughed, a beam of giddiness escaping the worried cluster of his emotions. She bit at the inside of her cheek as the Hall came into view, bringing with it the nervous aura that surrounded the prince. Sir Alfred met them at the door, softly grinning at her. Peeking behind the older man, Raven noted how the rest of the Waynes were busy, crowded over a map that took up nearly the entire length of the table.

The king looked up at her as they entered, “Raven, how extensive are your healing abilities?”

The mage stepped up next to Richard, peeking past his arm to the inky trails that slid over the map. Glancing at the longest route, ending a third of the way into Blackgate, she raised a brow and looked at the royal, “Most of the salves I have are for immediate use. I would have to grow certain herbs, but I have potions that are good for up to a week after they’re prepared.”

Her eyes flicked from the king’s face to the map and back again, “If you think that there’s a danger of serious injury, I can charm some talismans, although it would take a few days.”

“Make talismans for all of us.” She turned to the youngest prince, nodding at his demand. A brow raised in question as her fingers laced and unlaced behind her back, “Simple talismans will take only a day and a half, but for the seven of you personalized ones will take about three days.”

The mage glanced at Sir Alfred, silently questioning if her number was correct. At his affirmative nod she bit her lip, “I also would need a drop of blood from all of you.”

Jason glanced up from the map at her, “Can I ask what for?”

A thin smile stretched her lips, “Blood is the most protective guard that a spell could have. I put some of my own in every potion but this’ll ensure that you all can survive more damage than usual.” Cassandra pitched forward, meeting her gaze curiously and Raven hastened to add, “True invincibility is impossible, of course, but falls from certain heights and piercings through your armor that would kill most won’t be as critical.”

Timothy finally spoke, “Could you make potions as well? This is a recon mission, not exactly one that necessitates fighting, but you never know with the Jester around. Or does charming talismans take up too much time?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Raven glanced up at the patriarch again, “It depends on when you all plan to leave. I can grow the herbs for the potions and the talismans tonight,” She paused in thought, a hand coming up to bite at her thumbnail, “I’ll start charming by dawn tomorrow… I should be done by day three’s midday. Usually you guys leave at sunset, correct?” At the nods she received, she hummed, the sound low in her throat, “Then I can at least get two, maybe three potions for each of you. Maybe five apiece if you can hold off until the sun is completely set.”

The king nodded definitively at that, tilting his chin to the doors, “Can you get started immediately, then?”

Bowing her head, Raven picked up her skirts, “Of course, my King. I’ll have the blood salves ready by dinner.” She waited a beat, as if to gauge that the conversation was over, then hurried out the Hall, headed towards her room.

Cassandra watched her go, her fingers impatiently twittering with the bands on her arms. She picked at the lace trimmings and cleared her throat. The princess signed to her father, I will take the westernmost route.

He raised a brow at her, “Most of your informants are near Arkham’s outskirts and a third of the way into Blackgate. Why the change?” His sapphire eyes flicked to Jason as the prince scoffed out a laugh as he followed the route, obviously seeing the princess’ motive.

Raven’s mother is sick, Cassandra signed, a sheepish curl on her lips, Whether or not something is wrong, I want her to at least visit. Richard smiled at his little sister, giddy despite the news, “That’s what? A day and a half’s worth of travel just to the informant? Two days at most?”

He slung an arm around Timothy’s shoulders, “Looks like she’s planning on having the healer all to herself, hmmm?” His tone was light and his grin widened at how his brother leaned his head back, snickering. Cassandra aimed a pointed look his way, embarrassed at the blush that she knew was threatening to stain her cheeks.   

“Cassandra and I can switch routes,” Damian added, rolling his eyes at his siblings. After a pause he raised a brow at his sister, “That means you should go tell her.”

Jason snorted at his bluntness, leaning over to flick at the youngest prince’s arm, “You have so much to learn in terms of romance, kid.” The four brothers ignored how their father’s eyes widened but the princess could not. Horrified that her secret had been blown so casually (and a bit stunned at how approving her brothers were with the idea), her back straightened and she felt a chill go down her spine as she watched the king from the corner of her eye.

She forced herself the look at Jason, barely registering his and Damian’s banter. Her father looked her over once, twice; he leaned back in his seat, an unassuming rumble deep in his chest. Cassandra involuntarily held a breath as Alfred leaned over her father’s shoulder, his lips whispering something that she could not read. The king’s face stayed blank for another moment and the princess abruptly stood, the legs of her chair scraping the floor.

I will tell Raven now, she hurriedly signed, picking up her skirts and heading towards the doors. Cassandra noticed the small, nearly imperceptible turn up of her father’s lips but ignored it, lest she get her hopes up.

Deep down, she could admit to herself that she was probably her father’s favorite, and that he wouldn’t be too objecting to never having a son-in-law, yet alone a grandchild from her. She bit her lip at the thought, physically trying to shake it out of her head; it was foolish to plan ahead when she wasn’t sure that Raven even had an inkling of attraction towards her? She knew that Azarathians were private people, but what if the mage was merely trying to be a good guest? Her gait faltered a bit at the realization, nevermind how another part of her screamed about their almost-kiss in the kitchen, their late night conversations, how they slept in the same bed and woke up in each other’s arms.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, the princess paused at the stairs. Thinking better of herself, she walked around to the courtyard and spotted Raven, crouched along a patch adjacent to her garden. Breathing in deeply, Cassandra forced her steps to be calmer than she felt. Still, she couldn’t hold back her surprised gasp at the sight of magic before her. Pausing a stride away, she watched for a few minutes.

The sorceress was softly singing over a new batch of plants, mist spontaneously forming from her fingertips and weaving around the sprouts. Hesitantly kneeling next to Raven, she leaned forward, watching as the mist tainted the chlorophyll into a silvery white. The leaves curled about in a dance, softly ripping themselves in half to the tune of Raven’s song.

Each half curled up like ringlets, all but shimmering in the sunlight. The mist settled over them and clung to the waxy stems as the mage’s song ended, finishing with a quiet hum. Cassandra held her breath as she watched the buds open, the scent of saffron and chamomile nearly overwhelming. Raven smiled at the princess’ reaction, scooting over to plant more mint and lemon beebrush.

She held out some sprouts and Cassandra took them, copying her movements to tent the soil around the buds. The mage leaned back and observed their handiwork, smiling as a bee bumbled past the royal’s shoulder. Both women looked up as what seemed to be a hive’s worth of bees hovered over the gardens, diving from one patch to the next, mixing pollen from the garlic and saffron and herbs as they went.

Eyes widening, the two picked up their skirts and quickly headed back inside, patting at the material to ensure that no bees got stuck in their clothing. Taking a moment to watch the buzz around her garden, Raven turned to raise a brow at the younger woman, “Does some tea sound good?” She bit her lip, conscious of the short amount of time they would have to themselves, “Maybe even a stop at the library, too?”

Cassandra nodded and offered her arm. Raven smiled as she leaned on the princess, both of them still covered in the lingering scent of tea leaves. The princess’ hand touched hers and the mage blushed, playfully bumping their shoulders. They walked into the library, Raven dropping her arms as they spotted two of her brothers. The two were in some sort of argument, Timothy hunched over a thickly bound book and Jason standing, his hands pointing at some excerpt that proved his point. They paused, their eyebrows jumping up and mischievous grins sliding onto their faces as the women walked in.

Jason sat down and leaned against the back of his chair, smirking at his sister. Cassandra raised a brow at him and crossed her arms, daring him to speak. Raven watched the two curiously, her eyebrows raising as Timothy signed with his hands, snickering at the blush that flooded the princess’ face. Cassandra signed back and the mage was lost in trying to understand them, especially without the princess’ helpful gestures.

Timothy nudged Jason’s shoulder and mimed shooting him with an arrow. The older man snorted and stood again, walking over to sling an arm around the mage's shoulder. Raven looked up at him blankly, one brow peaked in question. He paid her no mind, instead shooting a grin to his sister. His fingers curled up near his ear and he signed to the princess, his laugher obvious.

Cassandra pouted and playfully shoved his shoulder, grabbing Raven's hand and leading them away. The pale woman could only walk after her, picking at her skirts to keep up with the shorter woman's fast pace as bookshelves gave way to the art that adorned the hallway walls.

Raven blinked rapidly as she was led to the training yard near the stables, eyes adjusting to the bright afternoon light. She furrowed her brows and looked at her companion, confused by the rapid turn of events. The flustered, confused mess of Cassandra's aura made her pause and she stayed silent, even as the noble began leading her along the winding pathway, dirty wooden planks fading away to beige grass, desperate for a watering.

The Azarathian, feeling bold, leaned down and tucked a lock of black hair behind the princess' ear. The royal’s strides faltered for half a heartbeat, then continued on. “Cassandra,” Raven spoke, her voice concerned, “Is something wrong?”

Despite her words Cassandra made no move to communicate; instead, her pace quickened to nearly a skip, forcing the mage to jog alongside her to keep up. Raven frowned, even as her heart fluttered when the princess slid her hand down to hold her own. The apothecary squeezed her hand, holding back her sigh of relief when Cassandra slowed her gait. The grass slowly gave way to healthier feeding pastures, the springy grass squished under the soles of their boots and dampening the ends of their skirts.

They walked for a while, following the curves of the path. The mage furrowed her eyes as she spotted the knotted tree, recognizing where they were headed. Cassandra slowed to a walk and Raven matched her strides, surprised as her garden came into view again. The garlic was dormant, its sprouts arched towards the ground, shading the roots. The rest of the herbs were still reaching towards the sky, their flowers closed and their leaves unfurled. The quiet hum of magic still lingered, as did the rest of the bees. The women gave the plot a berth of space, plopping down on the bench a few running strides’ away.

Raven folded her hands in her lap, closing her eyes as she breathed in deeply. She did not meditate, instead listening as Cassandra worriedly gnawed on her lower lip. The comforting buzz of a bee sounded and mauve eyes opened, watching as a different group of them flew towards the herbs. The buds partly unfurled for them, inviting the pollinators to do their job, needless as it was with the magic already in them. She felt Cassandra's gaze on her face and turned to meet her, knowing that the princess would see the worry and concern.

However, the mage did not voice her thoughts. Instead, she let the tension fully leave her shoulders, softly questioning, “Will you ever teach me?”

Cassandra’s brows jumped at that and Raven had to fight back a twinge of adoration -- she never realized that the princess couldn't raise her brows individually. It made her seem both mocking and genuinely curious, a contradictory look that only Cassandra could pull off.

“To speak with my hands,” The mage clarified, holding her gaze. She smiled thinly, “And as much fun as Prince Jason and Prince Timothy were apparently having at your expense, I would like to know the correct way to speak with you.” The princess suddenly looked guilty and Raven raised her palms, “Not that I can't understand you! We communicate quite well as we are at this point,” Her hands lowered and she averted her eyes, pupils shrinking as she watched a bee fly from the rosemary to the peppermint, “I just want to converse with you as fluid as your family does.”

Feeling self conscious, the healer fiddled with the hem of her skirt, “You don't have to teach me, of course. I was just hoping that with us -- umm, not like that but if you, uh, I mean -- you seem fine with us spending so much time together, and I just thought that--”

Cassandra cut her mess of an explanation off, her hands lunging to hold the pale ones. The princess grinned, an embarrassed blush dotting her nose and creeping over her shoulders as she vigorously nodded. Raven smiled back, the movement smaller but just as pleased, her shoulders curling in relief. She re-adjusted her headscarf, squaring her shoulders as she sat up straighter, “Could we start now?”  

The princess nodded, held up her hands, and began her lesson.

Raven proved to be surprisingly adept at forming the shapes, although she had to sound out what she read. Cassandra bit back a smile at the sight; the mage paid no mind to her loosening headscarf, instead moving her lips and furrowing her eyebrows as she mimicked the younger woman’s movements.

A mark’s worth of progress went by fast, the healer quickly figuring out how to translate pronunciations from oral to sign. She easily copied the princess, giddy at how easy the process was. Cassandra signed simple sentences, carefully ensuring that Raven both read and signed them correctly.

The garden is over there. Bees are yellow and black. Tea is delicious. My hair is dark.

A pout threatened to slid over Raven’s lips when Cassandra signed a word quickly, surprised when she wasn’t able to immediately have some sort of grasp on its meaning. The princess repeated the word and Raven mimicked her, a crease deepening right below her pyrope as she did so. Sound it out, the mute advised. She signed the word again. Raven watched her scarred hands intently, her lips moving as she read, “Ass-sar-raft. Oh! Azarath?”

She hummed a bit, softly signing the name over and over to get a grasp at it, Azarath, Azarath, Azarath. The princess felt her heart flutter at the wistful smile that slid over the older woman’s face and, remembering her mission, quickly stood.

Raven blinked at her, “My Princess?”

Wait right here, she signed. I’ll be back very soon.

The violet haired woman nodded and watched Cassandra’s back as she ran back towards the Hall. Sighing, amethyst eyes glanced at her gardens and she started practicing her signs again, barely noticing the pounding thud! of the princess’ boots as she returned.

Raven blushed but raised a brow as Cassandra sat flush against her and pulled out her copy of the map, pointing along her assigned route. The mage kept her face blank, “You’re going to west to see an informant.” She seemed to be steeling herself for bad news but the princess stopped her, placing a hand on her arm. We are going to Azarath, she signed, a soft smile on her face.

Raven blinked at her, her fingers nervously fiddling with her rings. She was certain she had read wrong, “We?” Instead, the princess grinned at her, holding and squeezing her hands. A breath shakily escaped the mage, “Really?”

The man I need to talk to stays near the river. You can see your mother while I see what he knows then we’ll come back to the Manor. Cassandra kept her signs calm and slow, staring at Raven’s mouth as she muttered her message out loud.

The mage gnawed at the inside of her cheek, her eyes glassy as she held one of the princess’ hands in her own. She brought their hands up and kissed Cassandra’s knuckles, her lips cool against her skin. A blush darkened both their cheeks and Raven murmured a soft, “Thank you,” along one of the noble’s scars. The healer shot her a large grin, her face lighting up, “Thank you so much, my Princess. I’m in your debt for this.” 

Cassandra shook her head at that, tugging their hands to her face and kissing Raven’s knuckles. The princess gave her a lopsided grin, No debt between us, Raven. I like it when you’re happy. Raven blushed even darker than that, “Thank you, Cassandra.”   

A bee glided past them, bumbling as it headed back to its hive. Raven tore her eyes away from the princess to look at her gardens, smiling at how the sprouts had already more than doubled in size. Cassandra turned around to look at them as well, an incredulous giggle escaping.

Your magic is amazing, she complimented. Raven tinkered with the ends of her headscarf, blushing as she tightened the material. Her gaze bounced from Cassandra to the garden to the Hall, a brow arching when she spotted Sir Alfred waving towards them. “I think lunch is ready,” She hummed, standing up and holding out a hand for the princess. Cassandra took her arm as they strode to the older man, their cheeks flushing as he smirked at them.

[unpopcorned]

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His Father had always told him when he was born, he cried a lot. And every time he cried, his father would too. He would cry and cry ( tears of joy, he assured ), because Arliss was so small in his arms and so delicate and there wasn’t anything else that he wanted to protect more than this. 

When he grew bigger, he taught Arliss to hunt and fight and watch after his Mother. Soon, her belly began to swell when he was the age of three, and soon after, his little sister was born. Aurelia, a spitting image of Mother, a baby that slept peacefully through the night and smiled when she met your eyes. 

He loves his sister, more than the Stars and the Sun and the sweet-bread that Mother makes in the evening. They sleep in the same bed together, their house being so small. The two of them cuddle for warmth through the night, take care of each other, wipe the others tears. That’s how it is and that’s how it shall always stay. 

Mother stays at home with them, cooks for them, teaches them. And Father, well - he’s always at sea. He sails back and forth from Yovaria, speaks to the guards there, and he comes back exhausted and crestfallen every time. Mother is there for him, always. Once, Arliss could’ve sworn he was awaken by his Father’s cries, and when he peeked outside of the room he shared with his sister, he saw their parents hunched together. 

His Father, on his knees in front of her, face pressed into her stomach. She holds him there, curls fingers into his dark hair. Her words are tender,

“...we will find another way.” 

“They will not listen to me because of who I am.”

“And if they do not listen? What will you do? You are my husband, you are my Life and Sun, just as our children. If they do not listen, you will make them. Your words deserve to be heard.” 

He tightens his arms around her midsection and doesn’t say anything for a very long time, “Your father was a fool to give me your hand.” 

“My father would be so proud of you at this moment. And yours. You are doing what others wouldn’t dare dream of.” 

He’s quiet, his crying has simmered. 

“Bring peace to Nuxvar. Bring freedom to our people.” 

.

.

His Father dies by the hands of Yovaria soldiers. A letter is sent through the men of his Father’s ship, they look forlorn and somber when his Mother answers the door. 

She takes the letter with shaking hands once its offered to her, Arliss and Aurelia watch as her shoulders bunch up towards her ears, and her delicate frame begins to tremble. 

Arliss is the first to his Mother’s side when she’s unable to support her weight any longer. 

She’s crying, weeping, crumbled to their floor and clutching the note to her chest, “Please,” she keeps whispering, “Please no...!” 

“We’re sorry for your loss,” the sailors say, they avoid eye contact with the children and keep their gazes down, “We’re so sorry.” 

.

.

After that, Mother isn’t much of herself anymore. She is a hollow-shell of the past - thin shoulders and stringy hair. After two years, Arliss is unable to get her to eat anymore, she only stares at the wall and blinks ever so often. 

He does his very best to take care of his family - he gets a job in small town a few miles up ahead, he works and he gets his hands dirty and he comes back home dog-tired and filthy. His sister is there for him as much as she can be, even as her gaze lingers on their Mother far too often. 

He makes enough for food, but not much else. They are forced to sale their livestock, they are forced to go nights without dinner, they are forced to rely on each other even more than before. Arliss does not mind, because if there is one thing his Father has taught him is - “Family is what matters”. 

The Kingdom around them falls apart, piece by piece. Packs die off, soldiers do not return, no one is here to douse the flames. People are taken and never brought back, soldiers search every home and take what they please. Women, children, and everything in between. His Mother doesn’t seem to care as much as them. 

.

.

When he is eleven, their Mother packs their bags for them. She leads them to the port, where boats have gathered and are being boarded. Aurelia is by his side, clutching her doll to her chest ( a small strange-looking rabbit that is falling apart at the seams ), she’s dressed very pretty today, and so is he. Mother looks at them fondly, and for a moment, she seems like herself - warm brown eyes and soft hands. She brushes dirt from his cheek and holds her palm there for a very long time. 

“You will take care of your sister,” she says, “No matter what.” 

Arliss nods, he’s staring up at her, “And you.” 

She smiles, it doesn’t reach her eyes, “Not me.” 

“Mama--” 

“You don’t have to look after me anymore.” 

He’s at a loss, leans his face further into her hand with a purpose, “I don’t understand.” 

“You will. Someday. There are better opportunities past the horizon, over the sea.” She’s looking out into the ocean, her gaze looks unfocused. He notices a slight crinkle to her eyes, as if she is trying to smile but cannot find the energy to, “It’s what your Father would’ve wanted.” 

He wants to tell her that that isn’t true, he should’ve told her that at the time. Because Father is not here, Father is dead, Father’s body has been washed away with the others. But he is a child, he is his Father’s child and he listens without question. 

“It’s too dangerous to stay here. You’ll go somewhere better, somewhere safe.” 

“You’re not coming with us?” 

She gets this look, this very sad look that he doesn’t think he’s supposed to see, “There is nothing more for me here, not in this life, Arliss,” Her thumb rubs underneath his eye, its wet there - he’s trying his best not to cry, “You understand that, yes? As the oldest, you must understand.” 

He does not say anything. He wants to hug her, like his Father had done before. Burrow his face into her stomach, will her to be strong. But the world does not work like that, it’s a cold and unforgiving place. It’s taken his Father, it won’t show mercy on his Mother. 

“I only had enough money for the two of you,” she says to them, she puts a hand on Aurelia‘s shoulder, huddles them together, “You must go. You must go and grow and learn. Take care of each other, love each other. Family - that is what matters. Yes?” 

Arliss stares at her. Aurelia whispers, “Yes.” 

“Good,” That is enough for their Mother, she stands and takes their hands. Arliss wants to dig his feet into the ground, stay rooted to spot, but he finds himself following after her. They come to a sailor, many of his men are loading up the ship, ushering people onto it, “These are my children, they will be coming with you.” 

“On their own?” It’s an older man, he’s staring at their young faces with a look of curiosity, “Are you sure about this--”

“They’re covered, Remus,” she tells him, extending both of her hands so her children are offered out to him, “Please. Take them with you.” He looks unsure, but he nods. The two of them seem to know each other fairly well.

“Alright. We lift anchor in only a short while. Say your goodbyes.” 

And that’s just what their Mother does. She bends down to their height once more, shares a long embrace with Aurelia, tears catching into her hair and Aurelia’s thin arms are shaking. When they part, she curves an affectionate hand over Arliss’ hair, brings him close into her chest. 

“You are strong,” she says into his ear, “You will live long. You are hardworking, independent. Both of you,” she pulls back, smiles tenderly in Aurelia‘s direction, “You will make a beautiful bride one day.”

Aurelia is crying, “Ma’--” 

She stands, faces Remus again, “Please take them.” 

He steps forward, “Come, children.” 

Aurelia is reluctant. And Arliss more so, he looks up into his Mother’s face, she smiles back in a comforting way. They are placed in the rowboat with their things, paddled farther and farther from the place they once called home. Their Mother stands in the same spot for a long time, she watches the boat lift anchor and begin its journey. 

Arliss and Aurelia watch as her frame grows smaller and smaller until they cannot see her anymore. His Mother’s parting words were softspoken, but resonate through his ears for years to come. 

.

.

“Do not tell anyone where you are from. Do not tell anyone who your Father was.” 

.

.

“Arliss! Hey! Arliss! Hey, hey! Oops, sorry, Remus!” 

“Watch where you’re going, Edward--” 

“Arliss! Where are you - there you are!” 

Arliss looks up, blinks when he spots Edward in the entryway. He is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, out of breath, hair windblown. He wouldn’t be surprised if he ran here, he runs pretty much anywhere. Arliss finds himself smiling before he can stop it, “What’s the hurry?” 

“The docks!” Edward breathes, this huge smile breaks across the expanse of his face, “We have to go!” 

“What’s at the docks?” 

“Edward, how many times do I have to tell you?” Remus isn’t far behind, he already has his Nagging Voice on, “This is a place of business, you can’t just--” 

“We have to go!” Edward isn’t listening, he’s tugging at Arliss’ arm, “Now, now! We can’t miss our chance!” 

Arliss stares at his face. And then to Remus, he looks exasperated. When he spots the look there, he blows out a long sigh, “Fine! Go, just go. Be back before sundown.” 

“You’re the best, Remus!” Edward says, and forces Arliss up from his seat. 

The two of them leave the barn, past the goats and cows, hop over the gate, Edward chances his luck and runs through the group of chickens just to make them squawk. The Sun beats high from the sky, there temperature grows as the seasons past, summer is close and peaking over the horizon. A year of new beginning and old tales, out of the corner of his eye, he spots Edward grinning towards the bleeding light of the land, he runs faster and jumps in the air, lands on his feet and he’s off again. 

Moments like this, Arliss wishes they’d never pass. 

.

.

They make it to the docks, fortunately. 

It’s full of life and people, all different shades of color, all speaking to one another, stomping feet and frilled dresses. Dogs barking, livestock catered away on rope, crates and boarding planks. It’s lively and bustling with newcomers and others who have come and go for years, Arliss greets a few here and there, almost runs right into a woman with a lot of pearls around her neck. 

“She shouldn’t walk around like that,” Arliss says, jogging lightly beside Edward to keep up with him, “Someone may rob her.” 

“That someone may be me,” Edward replies, cheekily. He’s out of breath, flushed and excited. Arliss stares, “Hurry, hurry!” They do hurry, they run through the crowd, bypassing many and offering no apologies when they step on a few toes or knock over their things. They are in a rush, they have no time to worry over such trivial matters, even as a few yell at them. 

And finally - finally - they reach who they’d been searching for. 

There’s a group surrounding him, mostly sailors or pirates or common folk. But he’s a showstopper, someone you can’t pass up walking by. He’s seated on a crate, confidence may as well be pouring out of his skin, skin sun-dried and hair swept back from his face in a messy bun. He looks tired, rugged, drained from the sea and still, a hero in the making. Just looking at him, Arliss can’t help but stare.

Captain Eirik of the Nightingale was the type of person you read about in books, the type of person that was destined for bigger and better things. Even more than Yovaria, the Kingdom of Opportunities. 

“--there I was, in front of the beast, nowhere to run or hide,” he’s speaking in a hushed tone, the others are leaning forward, enraptured, “A dagger in my hand, pistol out of ammunition, and nothing to lose.” 

Edward is already listening with rapt attention, his gaze may as well be filled with the Stars from the night. Arliss is no better, he’s elbowing and shouldering his way through to get a better view. 

Someone suddenly asks, “So, what did you do?” 

Eirik smiles, “What could I do?”

“Most men would shit and die, probably,” Another says, it gains a few laughs, “Don’t you think?” 

“I guess I’m not like most men,” Eirik says, easygoing, “It’s so very easy to die, so much more difficult to live.” 

“What happened next?” 

“Yes, tell us.” 

“How big was the sea-beast?” 

“Did it take any of your men?” 

“It must’ve been--” 

“You ass,” A voice speaks out from behind Eirik, a boot catches him right between the shoulder blades. He nearly loses his balance and falls off his seat, “If I weren’t there, you would be dead.”

Eirik’s smile is gone, he’s now glaring back at the other Captain behind him, “I was gettin’ to that part.” 

“Sure you were,” Captain Harlow says, she lowers her boot back to the ground. Arms cross over her chest, a lock of striking red hair brushes against her cheek from the strong gust of wind, “You’re a fool. Reckless and incompetent. Who charges their ship straight into the Hallows with no plan?” 

“What you call fool, I call brave.” 

“Your bravery is nothing but an act. If I hadn’t been there--” 

“Must you ruin the fun?” 

“Telling children’s tales is what you call fun?” 

It’s a rare occurrence to see Captain Harlow. Even more rare to see the two of them together. Two of the most feared and notorious Captains to ever set to sea - riveting tales about countless battles won between the both of them, people cower in their presence, gravitate to them naturally, they’ve been banned from nearly every kingdom as is. They make names for pirates, they make history, revolution is coated all over their skin and thriving in their blood. 

The crowd becomes thin when she arrives, her signature crimson hair that tosses around her shoulders is like a flame. Too bright and too searing to stay close to, many people begin to disperse once the arguing starts. But not Edward and Arliss, they’re either stupid or have a death wish. 

“E-Excuse me!” Edward suddenly blurts, very loudly, “Captain Harlow! Captain Eirik! At your service!” 

Harlow stops, she’d been grasping a hold of Eirik’s shirt to bring him closer and looked close to ripping it. Eirik does too, his fierce expression becomes tame fast, he’s glancing over in their direction and he looks as if he wants to groan, “You two again? How long has it been?” As Harlow releases him, he brushes down his clothes to look more proper, “A year?” 

“Nine months, actually!” Edward says, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, “Nine months, three weeks, and a couple days. But who’s counting, am I right, sir?” 

Eirik frowns at him, “You are, apparently. Get lost.” 

He begins walking away, but Edward is quicker, blocking his path, “W-Wait, sir! I’m hoping this time you’ll take me up on my offer!” 

“Offer?” 

“I’m trying to sound more confident, sir.” 

Eirik doesn’t look amused, “It’s not working. How old are you, even?” 

“Nineteen, sir!” 

“Too young.” 

“But, sir!” 

This is a common thing. It’s always been Edward’s dream to meet and speak with Eirik, but it never seems to go well. In fact, the Captain always looks close to throttling him. Arliss can only watch - Edward has been the mouth of their little duo since they were kids, since when they were thirteen. He doesn’t have much to say, but Edward sure does. As they begin to bicker, Arliss’ gaze trails over to Harlow, who’s watching. 

She catches him staring, “Mind your eyes.” 

“I apologize,” he says, she is very intimidating, “For myself and my friend.” 

She’s quiet for only a moment, “Why’re you two so persistent? Do you really seek the sea this badly?” 

Does he? He supposes so. Every morning, he comes to the docks, leisurely cuts at a block of wood for hours until its nothing more than a twig. Watching the waves, inhaling the smell of the water. He wonders sometimes just what is he waiting for - his Father, his Mother, who can tell. But he’s always longed for the sea, he’s always been at its beck and call. He needs no money, no men, just one person in particular and he thinks he will be fine. 

When that thought crosses his mind, he glances over at Edward. He looks as if he wants to start grovelling on his knees. Not again. 

“I want freedom,” Arliss says to her. 

She lifts a brow, “Yovaria is just that.” 

“Is it?” 

And then she tilts her head at him, her lips curve upward at the edges, but its not quite a smile, “Trying to run away from your problems, are you?” 

“No, ma’am,” he shakes his head, “I’m trying to run towards ‘em.” 

Before she can say anything, Edward suddenly cries out from a few feet away. Eirik has shoved him to the ground, it seems as if his patience has worn thin. Arliss is by his friend’s side fast, crouching down to make sure he’s alright. When he looks up, Eirik’s gaze is cold, harsh. Like a Fellstar’s winter. 

“You speak of nothing but dreams. What do you take me for?” 

Edward is still trying, “But, sir--”

“I don’t want to hear it--” 

“You can help us!” Edward says, “You can help the people here! You have such a huge influence in this country, if we all just band together--” 

“We?”

“Revolutionists! People that want change!” 

“Change--” 

“Don’t you want--” 

“No,” Eirik’s tone is final, it’s enough to make Edward go quiet, “Take some word of advice, kid, you keep talking like that and you’ll end up dead.” 

And then he turns away, walking from them at a leisure pace. Harlow stays where she is, watches them for a moment, and then she’s following after Eirik. She says something loudly to him that’s muffled by the bustle of the docks, hits his shoulder. The two of them disappear into the crowd, Edward doesn’t bother following them. 

.

.

“Uuughhhh...” 

“I know,” Arliss says, placing one hand to the back of Edward’s head. He threads his fingers through dirty blonde locks, damp with sweat. He smells of rum, slumped over the table and grasping his glass in one hand, even though its empty. Around them, the bar has died down, now there are only two or three drunks dotted here or there. The bartender is giving them a bad look, willing them to leave. 

Arliss will soon, but Edward seems reluctant. 

“I can’t believe,” Edward mutters, hiccuping slightly, “he would say that to us...” 

“I know,” he’s been saying that over and over for the past three hours, since they got here. The sun has set, Remus will be angry when he returns, “I know, Edward.”

“Just what does he stand for?” he groans, lifting his head from the table. There’s a red patch of skin on his forehead from laying it on one spot for too long, he looks very amusing, “What does he fight for? What does he want to gain? What’s the point of having that much power if you don’t want to use it! Captain Harlow, too!” 

“Not everyone is like us,” he reminds his friend, brushing hair from his face so it won’t get caught in his mouth, “Not everyone wants to make a change. Not many people care.” 

“Our Kingdom is corrupt!” Edward suddenly declares. And its the truth, but he says it very loudly and it makes the bartender glare even more, “A Queen and King that don’t listen to their people! Rebellion is the only way to make them listen! By sailing the sea, by gathering other people who feel the same way, we could really make a change! Don’t you think?” 

Edward always gets like this. Arliss almost wants to smile. He’s passionate and driven and he never gives up. He may not be the smartest in the room, but he’s the best with his words and dedication. He’s even been known to lift up a few. But it’s quiet now, there’s no one listening but Arliss, and still he speaks as if he’s talking to a crowd. 

He stands, slamming down his glass. It doesn’t break, thankfully, “Cowards! They’re cowards, that’s what it is! How can you call yourself a pirate, a Captain of a ship but not stand for the people? If I was a Captain, I would - I would...I would make sure there is change! I would--!” 

“No shouting,” the bartender tells them, shouting himself. He’s scrubbing hard at a glass, glare unwavering, “Or I’ll toss you out!” 

“Edward--” Arliss tugs at his arm. 

Edward ignores them both, “The King and Queen only speak to their people when they need slaves, when they need money for their own gain! I am not a puppet tied to my strings! Does it look as if I was born yesterday, Arliss?” 

“No, but--” 

“I will not roll over and yield!” 

“Edward--” 

“Yovaria, the Kingdom of Gold? The Kingdom of Opportunities? Just what has this land offered us but chaos and death? The people of Nuxvar--” 

Arliss stares up at him, “The slaves.” 

“Slaves! Slaves who deserve to be free!” 

“If you’re gonna do all that yappin’, why don’cha go to talk to someone important?” One of the drunks complain. A few others agree with him. 

Edward throws a grumpy look over his shoulder at them, “Like who?” 

“Like the Senate. Go talk to the senators, see what they say. They make all the decisions.” 

“They just offer solutions,” Edward says, “Doesn’t mean anything goes through! The Queen and King decisions are final!” 

“Go and talk to someone who cares!” 

“Yeah! Shut up already!” 

“People’re tryin’ to sleep here!” 

Before Edward can take his frustrations out on them, Arliss stands, leaves a few coins on the table, and apologizes for his friend. He ushers him out before any punches can be thrown, throwing an arm over his shoulder to keep him close. Edward does the same, leans most of his weight into Arliss’ side. 

“Those fools...don’t know what they’re talking ‘bout...” 

“It’s a good idea,” Arliss tells him, “They might actually listen to you.” 

“Ha! Who in their right mind would?” 

“A lot of people,” Arliss lifts his head, looks over at him. Their faces are very close together in this angle, but Edward doesn’t seem to mind. His face is flushed, hair falling everywhere, eyes unfocused. He looks pale in the moonlight, “Your skin is fair, you have a good head on your shoulders, you can talk for hours and hours. Nobody would stand a chance against you.” 

“But--” 

“And you’ve been reading up on the law. You keep saving up and buying those books.” 

“You need to know the law in order to survive.” 

“I can’t read, you know that.”

“When we get on the sea, I’ll teach you.” 

Arliss manages to get him a good distance away from the bar, just in case the bartender comes out and tries to chase them off. He gently helps Edward sit down in the grass, ignoring the dampness from the earlier rain. The two of them sit together, Arliss staring up at the moon and Edward lays back, one hand covering his eyes. 

Arliss can’t help but stare, listen to his own heartbeat that’s thudding away inside of his chest. Whenever it’s silent between them, it’s always been like this. This soft, tender feeling that fills up his stomach, makes it difficult to breathe when it cinches around his ribcage. He’s staring at Edward and he’s always staring at Edward, enough where Remus had called him out on it once. 

What’s so wrong with that? What’s so wrong with wanting to be close to him? Wanting to touch him? Wanting to keep by his side? Is that not something a friend would do? Or perhaps ... a maiden? 

Edward is oblivious. But then again, Edward is oblivious to almost everything. 

Arliss remembers when he was fifteen, when he brought Edward flowers in hopes that he would take them. He was young and naive, heart offered out in the palm of his hand. Unfortunately ( or maybe it was for the best ), Edward hadn’t even paid the flowers any mind. He took them and gave them to a random girl at the brothel, as if Arliss had given them to him for just that. It’s not that he minded, but he wishes the world wasn’t so complicated. 

He wonders what his Father would think of Edward. He would probably say he’s full of spirit, would make a fine soldier. He remembers struggling to write to his Mother, he never learned so he let Aurelia write his words for him. Their Mother never responded, and after two years, he stopped sending them. There was no point anymore. 

Love is love, he’s sure that’s what his sister would say. Love is kind and warm and gentle. That’s what he feels for Edward, that’s how it feels in his chest. The scrappy little kid who came to his rescue when a few street thugs tried to rob him of his food. In the end, they’d lost, but he’d came and he’d helped, even though they’d been strangers. And he shared his own food with Arliss. 

Edward is endlessly kind. Outspoken, hardworking. Nothing could ever stand in his way. 

“...the sea...” Edward is mumbling, breaking Arliss from his thoughts, “The sea...I want to go...” 

“Mmm,” Arliss says, he reaches over and pats him on the stomach gently. It makes Edward groan, he smiles some at the sound. Arms curl around his knees, chin lifted to get a clear view of the sky, “Maybe we can go sailing. I’ll ask Remus if he’ll let me borrow his rowboat--” 

“With you.” 

“Hm?” 

“I want to go...on the sea, with you, Arliss,” Edward says. His voice is quiet, barely above a breath. And Arliss turns his head to see Edward staring up at him, eyes shining in the very dim light of the moon, “Together.” 

He’s drunk. And even worse, he’s an emotional drunk. It’s a usual. Arliss can’t help smiling though, can’t help reaching out and pushing hair off his forehead. His skin is hot to the touch, “You sound like a kid. Like when we were younger.” 

“But it’s what I want! I want to be on the sea. With you,” he whines. 

“Edward--” 

“But I guess there’s more important things, right?” he’s muttering, frowning now up at the sky, “Tomorrow...tomorrow I think I’m going to go talk to the Senators.” 

Arliss’ eyebrows lift, “Yeah?” 

“Yes,” Edward sits up, with great difficulty, but doesn’t try to stand, “Once we set our land free, once we set your people free, we’ll go sailing! We’ll get our own ship, you and me.”

Arliss stares at him fondly. Edward is the only person he’s told of his heritage, of his Father. Of just who he is. His Father, the bravest General of Nuxvar to go against the Kingdom of Gold. His name isn’t even to be spoken here, not mentioned in the slightest. Arliss wishes he could read, wishes he could know just what his Father had done to create such a name for himself. He’s heard stories here and there, tried not to seem so interested to not raise alarm. But he cannot help it - what he wouldn’t give to be even a shadow of what his Father had been. 

His own ship, his own men that followed him to the ends of the earth. The countless people he’d set free, the memoirs and essays and federal papers he’d written for new laws and ideas and--

He’s amazing. He had been amazing. 

He watches as Edward begins to rant and rave again, growing his spirit back once more, “--we’ll go into the castle walls and set all of the slaves free! Why should I have plenty opportunity when they have none? Each man blood runs red, right? So it makes no difference! I’m telling you, Arliss--” He grips his shoulder in an affectionate manner, “We’re going to change things! We’re going to make history!” 

“And after that...” 

“After that--” 

“...we’ll go sailing?” 

Edward smiles, “Yeah! You and me and the sea!” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

.

.

“This came for you,” Remus holds it out for him to take, and when Arliss reaches for the letter, he pulls back, “I can read it for you.” 

“I want to,” Arliss says, reaching for it. It takes a few tries to get it ( Remus is old but he loves to tease him ), but once he does, he rips it open and unfolds the paper inside. There’s pretty lettering all over, some words he can sound out in his head and others he’ll have to come back to. It’s a few minutes before he reaches the end of it, breathing, “...signed, Aurelia.” 

Remus perks up, “Aurelia? Your sister?”

“Aurelia!” Arliss suddenly stands from his seat, “Aurelia! She’s--” 

“That school actually allowed her to write,” Remus takes the letter from him to glance over it, but Arliss is too filled with excitement to notice, it’s practically pouring out of him. He might just dance, “What has it been? Almost four years?” 

“Yes!” Arliss says, grinning, “She’s finally able to come back!” 

Remus is watching him, he looks fairly amused, “Alright, alright. Sit down. It says here she won’t be coming into town for another...few weeks. So, you have time to prepare for her.” 

“Prepare...” Arliss mumbles to himself. Four years is entirely too long. In order for his sister to get a higher education, to not end up a coal-rat such as himself, he sent her abroad. Stored all of his money until he had enough. She’s off chasing her future, dead-set on learning as much as she could, she’s always been a rather bright girl and he can’t wait to hear just what she has learned. She took a ship, far away to another country on the other side of the sea, to learn their customs and knowledge, to become a perfect bride for someone one day. Who knows - maybe she’s changed, maybe she thirsts for even more. 

He can’t wait to see her. 

“I have to tell Edward!” 

“Finish your work first.” 

He does what Remus says, he’s unable to stay still, he has to keep his hands moving. He finishes his workload quickly, bids a farewell to Remus, who only shakes his head at him. He runs through the fields, bounds over the fence and pets his favorite goat on the way out. He hurries through the town, bumps into children and their mothers, working salesman at their counters, a group of ruffians that threaten him, and only slows to a jog when he gets close to the Senate building. 

When he rounds the corner, he runs right into someone. 

“Oh!” 

“Are you alright, son?” 

He lifts his chin. In front of him, there is a man. A very familiar one, his face is one you don’t forget. Lagorúthon stares down at him, impassive, lifting one brow when Arliss stays silent. Quickly, he bows to him, just out of habit when it comes to his elders or someone of higher stature. 

“I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to run into you.” 

“It’s nothing,” Lagorúthon assures him, “Please stand.” Arliss listens, straightening his back and facing him. Lagorúthon has endless eyes and an intimidating stature, “What brings you here?”

“I was--” And then he stops there, smiling sheepishly, “Nothing, sir. My excitement got the better of me. I received good news today.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, he’s also smiling, looks fairly amused with him, “Excitement or not, watch where you step. Some won’t be as forgiving as me.” 

“Of course, sir. Thank you, have a good--” 

“Arliss!” 

His head lifts, “Edward!” 

Right behind the Senate, there’s his friend, who’s smiling ear to ear. He cannot help but do the same, bidding a small and polite goodbye to Lagorúthon to rush to his friend’s side. Edward hugs him as greeting, which is a nice sign, he’s in a good mood it seems. 

“I have exciting news!” 

“As do I!” 

“You first!” 

“No, you!” 

“I insist!” 

“At the same time?” 

“Same time!” 

“My sister is sailing here.” 

“I managed to speak to the Council!” 

True to their words, they do speak at the same time, over the other. But Arliss hears his words as clear as day, he finds himself flinging onto Edward, hugging him like he would as if its years since they’ve last seen the other. Edward is laughing, returning his embrace with equal enthusiasm. 

“The Council?” 

“And the Co-Council!” 

“The Assistant Council, you mean.” 

“Yeah, that!” 

They end up in town, sharing a seat together under the cooling shade of a large oak tree. Edward talks and talks and talks, and some parts, Arliss thinks he makes up, but he doesn’t care. Because he’s listening, one hand balancing his chin, completely enraptured. For a moment, he forgets why he’d even been rushing to meet him in the first place. 

“What did you have to tell me?” Edward asks, tilting his head, “It’s about your sister?”

Arliss shows him the letter, it’s crumbled in his pocket and Edward spreads it straight to read it. He reads it out loud for Arliss, just so he can get a general idea of the things he missed, “Whoa, Aurelia is actually coming back? I haven’t seen her since she was small!” 

“She’ll still be small,” Arliss protests, he takes the letter back, just to stare at her writing again. It’s so elegant, scribbled neatly onto the page. Her signature is even prettier, “She couldn’t have grown that much.” 

“She’s seventeen,” his friend says, “She’s a woman.” 

“Stop it,” Arliss shoves his shoulder, it only makes Edward laugh, “I just - I can’t wait to see her.” 

His little sister. The girl he loves more than the Sun and Stars. The only person he loves more than Edward. He can’t wait.

.

.

Her ship arrives a few weeks later, like the letter said. And he makes sure to take his time getting ready, cutting his hair, picking out something nice for it all. He brings flowers, holds them close to his chest as the ship docks. Many people get off, they greet family members and hug and cry. 

Arliss waits and waits and waits, and finally, he spots her. 

She’s dressed in a soft emerald, hair pinned back from her face. For a moment, he could swear he was seeing things ( Mama? ), but he blinks fast, stares at her as she moves through the crowd and towards him. Edward was right, she does look like a woman. Hair dark and long and sleek, eyes bright and warm, skin luminous and soft. She looks like a bride, she looks like their Mother. 

“Arliss!” She greets him enthusiastically, a smile spreading across her face. She embraces him, and he doesn’t know what to do at first. His arms stay limp to his sides, but once he catches a whiff of her scent ( her painstakingly familiar scent ), he’s pulling her closer and crushing her to him, “It’s so nice to see you!” 

“And you,” he says, pulling away for a moment only to hug her once more. They stay like that for awhile, him burrowing deep into her hair and her rubbing his back until he calms. The flowers are a mushed-mess by the time they part, but she takes them anyway and laughs with him. Her eyes are teary, smile unabashed, “You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” she breathes, her cheeks are flushed with a delicate pink, “You have to say that, though. You’re my brother, Arliss.” 

“Others would be foolish not to think the same.” 

“I have not been made a wife yet, so there must be many you consider fools.” 

“Plenty.” 

“Does Remus count?” 

“He’s always been an idiot.” 

“Speaking of him, how is he?” 

“In very good health. I’m absolutely certain he wants to see you.” 

“I would love to!” 

But first, there are others he wants to introduce her to. The two of them end up at the local bar, where everyone is waiting. They all grow loud once they enter the room, Aurelia flushes from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes at the attention. Through the introductions, she’s all smiles, beaming practically - she reminds Arliss of how their Mother had been, of how full of life she once were. 

There’s music playing, so he’s not sure that she can hear him well, but still - 

“...and this is Thomas, he does coal mining with Remus, I work with him sometimes. Oh! This is Joseph, his brothers John and Walter, his wife Bertha. And Mabel, she owns the brothel further down, a few miles.”

There’s a long list of people, and he doesn’t realize it until he’s through nearly half of them. All of these connections, all of these people he has met since she’d been gone. And still, they weren’t even close to being enough to fill her spot. Aurelia is smiling by his side, bowing or curtsying whenever the moment calls for it. She’s very well mannered and soft-spoken, he’s glad his money hadn’t been a waste. 

She’s happy, he can tell just from looking at her. 

“What is it?” She asks when they have a moment together, she’s smiling at him, “You’re staring.” 

“You...remind me of Mama, is all.” 

Her smile falls by a degree, her eyes become soft, “You knew her much better than me. I can...barely remember her face,” She pauses there, “What was she like?” 

“Always smiling,” he pokes at her cheek teasingly, she swats at his hand, “She cooked very well, I remember she always made stew or porridge. I never grew tired of it. And her eyes...” He looks to her, spots that she is staring at him, “I miss her. I missed you.” 

“It’s strange, even though we’ve been apart for so long, I haven’t forgotten a thing,” She reaches up, tousles his hair and makes a mess of it. He doesn’t bother protesting, “You look like Father. I remember his smile, his voice.” 

“He was pretty stern.” 

“He would scold you now for bringing your little sister to a bar.” 

“My little sister can drink more than half of these men.” 

“Even so,” she’s laughing, “Let’s go home soon. You do know how uncomfortable a corset is, don’t you?” 

“You’ve been gone for years, you should be used to wearing it now.” 

She swats at him, “Don’t be an idiot.” 

He listens to her though, he goes to say goodbye to his many friends, only for there to be a sudden commotion from the entrance of the bar. Lots of greetings, loud calls of names, and laughter. He manages to catch one, and he smiles, visibly brightens as the crowd parts. 

“Arliss!” 

“Edward, you made it.” 

“I wouldn’t miss it! Nice shirt.” 

“Jealous?” 

“Of the rip in the armpit? No.” 

This leads to banter, Arliss throws an arm around his shoulders and tugs him into a headlock. But he thinks Edward is laughing too hard to take him seriously. The only thing that makes them stop is Charles and Thomas breaking through - if they got involved, it would go from friendly wrestling to an all-out bar fight. The two of them detangle for each other, only for Thomas to latch onto Edward fast, leaning close to speak to him. 

“I heard a lucky somebody managed to talk to the Council recently!” 

Others, who had been listening, immediately perk up their ears. 

Edward sheepishly says, “It’s nothing, it was just a rather quick--” 

“Tell us about it,” Charles butts in, he’s leaning his weight into the bar, tapping his hand along the top for another drink, “Who knew anybody would’ve given you the time of day?” 

Edward takes offense to that, obviously, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that you spout nonsense all day long,” Walter says, clinking his drink with Charles once his is refilled, “Who would sit around for that? It’s hard to listen to you with a straight face.” 

Arliss catches that look in Edward’s eye fast. There’s a few others joining in, teasing and having a good laugh at the thought. 

“Don’t you care at all?” Edward asks, he’s glaring in Walter’s direction, “Do you not care about this country?” Not that he gives Walter a chance to respond, he’s already ducking from underneath Thomas’ arm, “You all joke and kid when there’s a revolution at hand!” 

Here he goes. 

Arliss does his best to try and stop him, holding his hands up in an abiding fashion, “Edward--” 

But he does not listen, he’s stepping closer to Walter, “All your family does is fight in the streets, creating infighting between all of us when we should stand together. I told the Council and the Co-Council--” 

“Assistant Council,” Arliss reminds him. 

“--just what they needed to hear!” He turns away from Walter, who looks as if he’s visibly biting his tongue, “And I’m going to keep saying it even if I have to yell in everyone’s faces! You will hear what I have to say--” 

“And just what do you have to say?” Charles is frowning at him. 

“A proposition for new laws! New government, a chance to choose what we think! We shouldn’t just let the King and Queen do what they please with our land and our families and our money, shouldn’t there be an even split!” 

Now, Charles is quiet. Walter, too. Even Thomas has slunk off to the side, watching. And now that those three are silent, the rest are listening. This ... is good, Arliss supposes. As long as there aren’t any punches thrown or drinks tossed, he guesses he can let Edward keep going. 

“I told them about the people here, the ones who work in the slums. We want new buildings, new schools, better resources! And do you know what they propositioned?” 

Everyone is silent. 

“Slaves!” Edward blurts, “Can you believe that? What makes me better? Because my skin, because of my parents? Just who the hell do they think they are? So I realized, there’s no going to the Council, no more talking to the Senators. If we want things to be different, we do it ourselves.” 

People have began to gather around him, nursing drinks or simply watching out of curiosity. A few even appear to be paying attention. Arliss can’t really find himself to be surprised, like he said, if there’s one thing Edward is good at, it’s definitely talking. 

“How do we do that?” 

“Rebellion!” Edward is quick to say, turning in one wide arch to face the person who asked, “Revolution, of course! Joining hands, fighting together until we get progress!” 

“What’re you talking about?” 

“You’re speaking nonsense!” 

“Going up against the King and Queen, do you have a death wish?” 

“That’s the problem! They think they have control over us!” 

“They do, Edward--” 

“They think they do! Because of their military, because of their guards! If we fight back, the control’s lost!” 

“Revolt against your own kingdom?” 

“Have you gone insane?” 

“I’m not a sheep,” Edward says, “I don’t fall in line when someone tells me to! If that’s the life you want for yourself and your wives and your children, then heed by what the guards say.” 

There’s murmurs now, going back and forth until its this huge circle that has no end. Arliss can only sit back and stare, Edward climbs onto a table, he’s speaking to everyone that crowds him. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, or maybe its because most are drunk, but no one looks particularly displeased by what he’s saying. In fact, more and more are beginning to agree. 

Arliss ends up back beside his sister, crosses his arms over his chest and watches it all unfold. Everyone’s talking at once, but not over Edward. They’re listening and they’re watching, captured by this moment. It’s like for the first time, they’re really paying attention.

He finds himself smiling quietly, only glancing up when his sister moves from beside him. He blinks at the expression upon her face. And then follows her gaze. Like everyone else in the bar, she’s staring at Edward. But she’s different, her eyes have swelled up and filled her face, and she’s flushed again, smiling. 

It’s almost like ... she’s looking at Edward through Arliss’ eyes. 

Aurelia whispers to him, “That’s Edward? Your friend from before?” He wordlessly nods, “He’s...different.”

Is he? He seems the same to him. 

He looks back to Edward, and then to her face again. She hasn’t taken her eyes off him, even as he gets the bar to begin chanting. He can barely hear them over the blood in his ears, over the heartbeat in his chest. She’s looking at Edward just how their Mother used to look at their Father, when he came back home - overfilled with love and joy and relief. 

“Brother,” she looks away from Edward, her eyes are moist and excited, “Can you introduce me to him? Please?”

“But--” 

“I know, he remembers me from before, but...” She tucks her hair behind her ear in an almost shy fashion, “but...” 

“Okay,” he says. Because he is her brother and his Father’s child and he listens without question. That’s just the type of person he is, “When he’s finished with his ramblings, I’ll take you to him.” 

Her answering smile is dazzling. 

.

.

Family is what matters. That’s how it is and that’s how it shall always stay.

.

.

[yi-dashi-a]

//A disjointed follow on from this in fact. Not something I thought I would continue any time soon, but some imagery has just been swirling in my head. Sorry for bad writing though if you seek to venture below the read more. I honestly feel feverish right now. Gonna go sleepu.

  There’s still no context because I have never explained much about Yi’s parents, but ohhh wellll

Huan could think of nothing more exhilarating than the speed of a horse, and the whooshing by of people almost knocked off the street by its passing. So unabashed he was in the way he galloped the stallion through the capital of Shon-Xan, but in a way she reveled in the rebellion. He at least let her wear his hat while disturbing the peace so that the legend of trouble-making Wuju Masters would live on. It also gave her an excuse to giggle into his back and blame the bamboo later.

But eventually the air about her slowed, and the Wuju practitioner snatched his hat back. She made a playful grab for it in response, but before she could grasp the thing her eyes were filled with magnificent colour.

“Oh, Chao! You always know how to pick a vista. Such beauty.”

The rolling hills before them swooped down into sharp, white cliffs. The water, with the perfect dotting of distant boats, merged flawlessly from blue, to the white of the clouds, and then to their orange and pink highlights. The sun set in magnificence grace, finding a bed in those clouds just… perfectly. She’d seen the sun set every day of her life, but as she hugged about the waist of her distant pen-pal it always seemed so special.

“Such beauty indeed.” He offered with a small laugh, “I figured it was something we could do that didn’t cost me the pelts off my back. Admittedly I came here with no items to barter with. The grass is a bit wet here I think, but the horse needs to rest. He has taken me quite some distance, and I feel terribly for him. I’m sure he’ll like the wet grass combination, even if he can’t appreciate what he’s looking at.”

“Then why did you run him so hard, Wuju Master?”

“Why else but to see you?” Carefully he unwound from her embrace, and his feet met the ground once more, ��That… sounds somewhat romantic. I…”

“Oh, let it be, Chao.” It was her turn to laugh aloud as she accepted his help down, “I know what you mean.”

As much as she’d deny him to others as a suitor or a partner, there were times when she could only entertain his inherently romanticised nature. He was a Wuju Master, after all. Surely many young women had dreamed of being spirited away by such a man, and yet he was here holding her hand, of all hands, and watching the sun find rest. They were friends before anything else though. Respectfully they breathed in the sunset, and respectfully they would continue to coexist into the future.

Because even if she would deny his suitorship, in her mind she always felt she wouldn’t get another. Emotions were fickle like that.

“… Have I ever told you that horse rides make my legs wobbly?” She mumbled in good humour, “I think I must sit. Even if it soaks my robes.”

“That is fair.” Chao nodded, “The sun will still set whether we stand or not.”

“Quite.” Huan near skipped away from his hold, sitting astutely at first upon the dewy grass, “Oh! And I must ask you. What brings you here all dressed in pelts and broad brimmed hats anyway?” However, when she saw the Master of grace and poise take a pause to consider her question, then unceremoniously dump himself upon the ground, she felt herself under no obligation to keep her back perfectly straight, “I… forgot to ask before now. The thrill of the ride and the view took my politeness away.”

“Well, uh…” Any energy he’d had from their journey all but melted away, much to Huan’s dismay. He was always so easy to bring down, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty every time she said the wrong thing, “Necessity. It would have been… complicated if I hadn’t left discreetly.” The mage cocked an eyebrow at the Master, and he need not have been asked to continue, “It… It truly is complicated. All that need be known is that… I was under strict instruction not to leave, but I left anyway.”

“Discretely? On your horse?”

“If I had run away I would have been caught, but even a Wuju Master cannot outrun a horse.”

“… You’re a sixty-year-old man, Chao.” She said with tone somewhat playful.

“And you say that every time I voice my grievances.” He replied, tone notably lacking that same playfulness, “What are you to say next? That a woman such as yourself has more freedom than a clan son? I really didn’t come all this way to be witness to more criticism.”

“Chao…”

The man flopped back in a flurry of dark sheep’s wool and goat pelts, his hat falling away to reveal a terse face that stared to the orange sky. It was easy to tell when the man was nervous, apart from the off-color remarks. His deep brown eyes always flickered about, as if he read some sort of scroll before himself that no one else could see, frantically scanning the words as if they would provide a calculated solution to his problems. When his moment of silence brought with it no justification for his actions, he merely said,

“… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She offered him in similarly hushed tones, “You just have to tell me what’s going on. You’re worrying me now.”

“I’m… not even sure where to begin.” Slowly he drew a hand down his face, and she hoped his brow was just wet with dew, “Things have simply been terrible, as they normally are I suppose. The oppression of my position leaves me particularly tense and stressful.”

“… Your Master is being overbearing even now?”

“I fear to think what my life would be like if it were he with the powers of mind and not myself…” He took another pause, with strain finding his face once again, “… Terrible. The only escape I have sometimes is within… and with you.”

Carefully Huan leaned over slightly, placing an immaculate mage’s hand upon his collar bone. For a moment the act seemed to snap him out of his agitated invisible readings, and in a way he tried to mimic her soothed features.

“You seem more troubled than usual, all of a sudden.” She spoke in coos and inoffensive tones, “Tell me everything you can. Lose it to the cliff side so that we can enjoy the rest of the sunset.”

The silence that came after was so palpable that Huan almost found herself tuning in on the munching of the horse as he rummaged around for the best grass. Guilt panged in her gut, almost making her lose her comforting expression. She was steadied only by the fact that she’d known the soundlessly anguishing man for years, and that she knew how these things went. He was never one to offer things outwardly, yet desperately waited for the chance to speak his mind.

“My…” When he finally spoke, it was as if a frog’s croak had replaced his sultry voice, “… My mother… passed recently.”

“Oh Chao…” She shimmied all the closer to him, rubbing his shoulder tenderly, “I am so sorry. Is it… too soon to ask how?”

“I… I don’t…” His breath hitched a moment, but with a couple of calmer breaths he brought himself back, “… That is just it. That’s the pain I’m experiencing right now. I don’t know. My Master… My father will not tell me. He refuses to give me a single detail, other than to proclaim that she was old and not long for the world.”

“... When is the funer--?”

“I don’t know Huan!” He ripped his face away from the sky, and certainly away from her, “He won’t tell me a thing. He forbade me from leaving my home for fear that I’d go looking. But I haven’t seen her since I was a boy of single digits. How would I even know where to look if I hadn’t found her before now? For all I know he had her buried in a place not even my sisters know, just so that he might spit on her bones when he felt the evilness in his heart. She died… and I never got to see her again. And now everything… he is seeking to take everything from me, as if her death was some sort of pass he needed to take complete control of my life! It’s as if he owns me now, like property...”

The grass blades pricked her face with their chill, but she let it be so. Sometimes it was all she could do but stoop to his level. To be in his same position when he endeavored to try and push back against his hurt. But as she knew he would have done for her, so too did she try with him. Putting a hand upon her face, though not with any force, she merely attempted to rub at his cheek bones.

“I don’t understand why he does these things to me.” He choked out, not giving into her prodding in the beginning, “I had to get away, even if just to ride. Even if I didn’t come here I just needed time. He doesn’t understand what his plots and schemes do to me.” Finally, though with clear reluctance, he began slowly arching into her touch. She guided him without a word, and as he turned in the bowl of his conical hat it revealed the heat of his tears against her fingers. It took all of her effort to stem her empathy before he offered the quiet comment, “… You’re getting yourself all wet, lying down here.”

“It’s the least I can do,” She smiled when he couldn’t, though made sure to be rid of it when he voice took a more serious measure, “because you do not deserve the terrible things your father does to you. He plays with you without cause. I’ll never understand it. The abuse…” As best as she was able, Huan cupped the man’s cheeks in either hand, “… Thank you for being so open with me, Chao. I’d be happy in the day I’d never have to hear a terrible thing from the Wuju Lands ever again, but I’m also so very happy that you can and do tell me of them.”

“I’d be happy in those days too.” The Wuju Master laughed a sad laugh, “But I’m… so very stuck in my position. There’s no way out. Especially not now…”

“Whatever do you mean? Surely things will be okay? I know it’s not the same but… I remember the feelings from when my father passed to the Stars. This has only just happened, correct? Time needs to come.”

The mage wouldn’t lie, she found little physical discomfort in wiping away his tears. His face was so hot with melancholy, and with the sun disappearing and the sea air kicking up about them she was glad that her hands were kept from shivering. But she wouldn’t have to fret about the cold for too much longer. Not when next he spoke,

“… I love you, Huan.”

“Wh..? Nn...  I… I know.”

“Don’t just—“ The man almost bit his own tongue, it seemed, before he took one of her wrists in his hand, “… Don’t just say I know. I know it isn’t… like that, but I love you Huan. I love you, and your compassion, and I just…” He was about to curl himself up, but she spotted it first. Almost reflexively she brought her forehead to his, as close as she dared get. The love word always plucked at her heart in ways she wished her foolish feelings wouldn’t rise when it was spoken. Such a rare sentiment to be found in their language was too easily muddied by the guilt or sympathy that she felt. He’d say it only so rarely, and he seemed to mean different things by it each time. But he wanted to hear something,

“I have known no other man like you. You know that... I love you so very much.”

And even if it was what she thought he wanted to hear, it didn’t necessarily make it untrue.

If he could not curl into his own world however, he would curl into hers. Perhaps he forgot his own strength, or maybe it was an intentional act, but his arms were powerful as he entangled her in them. His prominent nose lay straight into her neck, and she gasped quietly when he wheezed upon her cold skin. Stupid mixed feelings at such a time as this… but she was poised enough to let him cry. To pet the back of his head, and to whisper reassurances into his ear. To do it even as the world grew darker still about them, and as his mind’s voice became unchecked,

I came all this way to drag you into the mud, the voice within said with a complete lack of emotion, even as the man outwardly wept, Literal, and figurative mud. I came all this way to tell you I love you so much, and appreciate you so much, in the worst way possible. I didn’t plan for it to be this way. I thought about it all the way, but nothing has worked.

“You’re not making any sense. You just need to calm down. It’s going to be okay…”

I’m never going to see you again. I can’t take it…

“Wh… What?”

“H-Huan..?”

“Deep breaths, Chao…”

Finally, after so long, he lifted his heavy head. Just barely in the last wisps of sunlight could she glimpse at the toll of his sadness. His eyes seemed ripe for caressing, and his face needed to be rid of sweat and tears. It was perhaps the innate motherly instinct within that had her so desperately want to tend to his every wound. Instead the man wouldn’t allow it. As soon as his head was up his head was also forward, and suddenly, so recklessly…

His lips were ice, despite all his whimpering and choked breaths. She didn’t need that to tell her to put force upon his face with her hands. As much as she could see herself being lost to his misplaced passions, as much as it might have happened in fleeting pasts,

“N-No. No…” The man’s face tensed in her grasp, but he was not one to assert himself, “There are times, but that time… isn’t now. I don’t want you to do things like this when you’re so upset. We’re talking, alright?”

I don’t want to be alone, Huan. A breath hissed out his clenched teeth.

“You don’t have to be. I’m right here. You just need to calm down first.”

Stay with me.

“I am.”

Stay with me tonight. All of tonight. I can’t bear to be alone.

“N… Now you know I can’t do that. It’s just a matter of… of decency with the children.”

“Not like that! I just… I just…” A deep breath in, and then a deep breath out upon her chest. He did it once, then twice, then thrice. Quietly his arms went lax about her, and with a seemingly pained effort he broke away, “… I’m saying all sorts of… of bizarre mixed things, aren’t I?”

“… Yes, but I… do believe I brought them on.”

“I’m… sorry. I’m just so… I don’t know what. I really don’t know. I’m so upset. I’ve never felt this way before...” His brow was so creased that it almost appeared that his bushy eyebrows were in the place of his eyes. The Wuju Master wasted no time in propping himself up and clicking his tongue. Trained so well was the horse that it came without a second’s delay, and he used its reigns to help him stand, “I can… cry on my own terms. It’s paramount that I get you out of the mud and back to your college before your cohorts miss you, I think.”

“You don’t have to worry about me like that. I understand, I really do. All I want to be is here for you. We don’t have to leave just yet. I’m not mad, I’m just--”

--I’ll be staying here a couple of days more if I can find away to pay, he reached out a hand to her, At least I’ll be somewhere around until I work out what I’m to do. I don’t think I can keep speaking out loud. That’s really all you need know. We’ll talk about better things… another time…

Not that she needed the help, but if she let him do anything to her, then helping her from the grassy overlook was the least.

“The view was nice.” She offered quietly, watching him stoop down to aid her ascent to the saddle with a quiver to his form, “It really was. We must come back.”

I’m going to faint… His words echoed inside her skull almost illegibly, But home for her first. Maybe I shouldn’t have come at all. I should have stayed home. Should have just stayed. Everything is ruined. I’m never going to see her again…

She didn’t bring up that his thoughts rattled off in her mind all the way back home. Not only because she didn’t want to upset him further, but just because she didn’t have a response. All she had was arms with which to embrace him, but even that seemed to stir him up even more.

What do I do? I don’t understand… I don’t know what to do. I’m going to be sick. I’ve made a fool of myself. I’m a fool. A dumb fool. I just don’t want to be alone. I messed it all up…

You haven’t, she thought back to him, even if she wasn’t a telepath like he. Even if her tightening hug as they rode caused him to spout more and more thoughts, Even if I can hear your every thought, I still don’t know exactly what you’re thinking. We’ll talk about it one day at a time. We always have. I’m sure it will be okay. Maybe then I’ll stop worrying about you so much so that I can have a chance to know what I think about all this.

Really that was her main problem. It was easy to forget she had a say in it all too, but she’d ponder such things after drying her robes, and perhaps having a warm bath.

[boysbeforehomework]

kids. - Yoonkook Week day 3

Bruh I am so late with this and I haven’t even participated as much as I wanted I am sosososo sorry. BUT! Here is a funny little thing I thought of and just HAD to include in the week. It’s been lit, sugakookie babies! “AS OR WITH KIDS” fluff; 1.5k

on AO3

- A trip to the zoo has got Yoongi melting at first, but leave it to him to get lost in an unexpected (possibly scary) new thought. -

When Jeongguk woke him, it was with soft little kisses planted on his cheeks and lips and nose, and he couldn't help the smile that would remain long after he opened his eyes. It was because of this awakening and the softly muttered words afterwards that Yoongi barely knew what he was agreeing to for the day. So when they ended up at the zoo, Yoongi was a bit surprised, but pleasantly so. Jeongguk was bouncing on his toes, excited for the little date he seemed to have planned the night before when Yoongi dropped asleep in his lap.

They quickly bought tickets and, soon, were walking around the well-known zoo near their place. Neither of them had been to the zoo in a while -- in fact, it’d been awhile since they even had a peaceful day to themselves that allowed them to go on a date.

Jeongguk took a breath of the animal-scented air and grimaced a bit, a smile still finding its way onto his lips anyway. “Do they have tigers here, Yoongi-hyung?”

Yoongi squeezed the boy’s hand in his, having not let go since they left the house. “I don’t think so, babe.”

Jeongguk whined shortly, shoulders slumping for just a second before he was back to his towering height and dragging Yoongi to an exhibit that caught his eye. He was especially drawn to the amphibians and reptiles, marveling at the snakes that Yoongi couldn’t help but shiver and turn away from. He was more inclined to the bears, anyway, and maybe the cute little otters, too. He couldn't help but imagine Jeongguk and himself as the two otters lazing around the pool on their backs with their paws locked together. This was only for a few seconds before he shook away the thought, hoping his husband wouldn't notice the embarrassing soft pink on his cheeks.

It was after an hour or so of exploring that Jeongguk gasped and tugged Yoongi to a stop. Yoongi looked up from his phone he couldn't help but check from time to time to see what had happened.

“Hyung! There's a petting zoo here!” Jeongguk exclaimed, fingers tightening around Yoongi's hand. “Let's go!”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, hesitation clear on his face. “Uh, won't there just be goats and stuff? Do you really want to--”

“Yes, I wanna see if there's an alpaca we can pet. Don't you want to find out if they really do spit in people's faces?”

“Why on earth would I want to find out if that was true?” Yoongi was in the process of responding with this while Jeongguk pulled him along, until they were standing in the entryway of a fairly large clearing. From what Yoongi could see, there were animals roaming around; a pony being pet by a child and her mother, an employee holding a large rabbit in his arms, a small group of four year olds gathered around, would you look at that, an alpaca. Yoongi feared for that last group’s lives.

Just when he felt Jeongguk move to stand near the alpaca, there was a call from another employee behind a short picket fence to the side. “Here come the kids!”

Yoongi stood still, bracing for deafening yells of even more children to come racing in but instead all he got was small bleating. His eyes widened when he looked to where the gate had been opened and saw five baby goats teetering and galloping as best they could toward the open space. “What the fuck,” he breathed just as Jeongguk started laughing.

“Oh, my god,” Jeongguk wheezed as he made the connection, “baby goats are called kids, hyung! Oh, god, your face!”

Before Yoongi could grumble out a reply, one of the kids (baby goats, of course) came tottering over to them much like a toddler. It stared up at them momentarily before proceeding to rub its black and white coated body against Jeongguk’s leg.

“Aw, hey there, little guy,” Jeongguk cooed, releasing Yoongi's hand to kneel on the grass. He let the kid jump against him, bleating happily as he pet its small head. “Aren't you the cutest thing ever…”

Yoongi felt his heart melt at the sight, his Jeongguk cooing over a small baby goat. He leaned down to pet Jeongguk’s fluffy hair and smiled softly. Suddenly, there was a sound and another kid came up to rub against Jeongguk’s side, and then another. The young man was giggling loudly as he tried to get to all of the jumping beans that were baby goats around him. “Yoongi, look at my kids! Ah!” His voice was elated, eyes curved prettily in happiness as he glanced up at Yoongi, who was awestruck once again by the one he called his own. “I want all of them! Give me all the kids!” He was exclaiming as he fell backwards onto his butt with bundles of wiggling baby goats in his arms or nudging against his body somewhere.

Yoongi laughed while trying to pet some of the kids romping around and then pulled out his phone, snapping multiple pictures before the words Jeongguk had spoken settled into his mind. He couldn't help his sudden shift in mood, distracted with the rapid fire pace his mind was working at then. Jeongguk and… kids? Maybe his husband of only three years and lover for several more finally wanted to bring up… children.

He figured he was being irrational, standing in the middle of a petting zoo with Jeongguk and some baby goats beside him, thinking about such a serious topic. But he couldn't let the thought go. Even after Jeongguk had forced him down next to him to feed and pet the kids and, soon after, leaving the zoo for some lunch, Yoongi had the thought of raising an actual human being with the love of his life on his mind. He'd never thought about it to a great extent, just saw it as a possibility but not one he would pursue unless there was a big change of heart. He didn't even think Jeongguk had given it much thought either, but right then, he was sure he missed something.

It wasn't until they were back in their apartment that Jeongguk turned to him and broke him out of his whirling mind.

“Alright, hyung, what's wrong? You've been acting weird since we left the zoo, did something happen?” Jeongguk stepped closer to where he stood in the little hallway that lead into their home.

Yoongi looked down, not yet ready to bring this topic to light so fully. He was quiet for quite some time, hoping that Jeongguk would let it go and hug him anyway, but while he stood there, he came to the conclusion that he should speak up for Jeongguk.

Jeongguk, the one who quite possibly meant what he said when he had all those baby goats surrounding him.

Yoongi didn't look up when he said, “Baby, do you want to adopt a kid?”

Jeongguk froze, stunned to silence by Yoongi's unexpected question. “W-What?”

“You said earlier in the petting zoo that you wanted kids so I figured that was your way of bringing it up and I'm sorry if I've been dense but if you've been thinking about it, I'm sure we can discuss it and see what we can do?” Yoongi knew he was rambling but it couldn't be helped. He had reached a hand up to run through his hair, eyes staring only at Jeongguk’s chest as he spoke.

Suddenly, Jeongguk let out a short, possibly incredulous laugh. He reached forward to rest a hand on Yoongi's shoulder to tug him into a hug. “You're so silly, hyung. So, so silly,” Jeongguk mumbled into Yoongi's hair, holding him tenderly and sighing.

Yoongi, for one, was a little confused but much more relieved. Almost immediately, he brought his hands up around Jeongguk’s waist and breathed in his familiar floral scent.

“I wasn't even thinking when I said those things, Yoongi,” Jeongguk said as he pulled back slightly. “I was caught up in the moment and they were just so cute! I couldn't help but want to keep all of the little baby munchkins.” He giggled softly and leaned forward to briefly brush his nose against Yoongi's. “I don't know about an actual child and how we would go about that whole process and life, especially right now. I know it scares you a little bit and that's okay, because it's scary for me, too. So, don't worry, okay? We're still young, we have plenty of time to figure stuff like that out but for now, I just want you, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi stared up into Jeongguk’s pretty brown eyes and felt his heart shake. He let out a tiny breath of relief he didn't know he was holding in before leaning up to press their lips together. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, good.” He leaned in for another kiss and then another until Jeongguk took a breath. Yoongi could feel him smiling against his lips.

“But if you want to adopt a little baby goat, I'm totally up for that.”

[fableweaver]

Arc of the Valiant Paladin

The forest receded on the horizon as they rode west, the road dusty and sun hot in the summer air. Horace missed the shade of the trees, and Pricilla was having no trouble voicing her own discomfort.

The leave taking from Alma had been uneventful as far as Horace knew, he had not been part of those farewells that had made Glen shed tears. Lord Kaden seemed reserved and unphased from leaving Alma and his cousin took to the road like it was a normal stroll through the woods. Horace wasn’t sure what to make of the two Aldan lords, they were too enigmatic for him to read. He could see why the Regarians found them arrogant, it was hard for him not to see a superior pride in their calm cool exteriors.

But he had seen these people in their homes, their lives as they lived in their forest, heard their poetry and seen their paintings, listened to their music and stories, and seen their children at play. They were a people of many emotions hidden under a surface of calm born of an inner peace Horace had come to envy. They had a nobility to them than made him realize why they had held the Kingdoms together all this time.

“We should take a rest,” Lord Basil said breaking into Horace’s thoughts and Pricilla’s complaints.

“Finally,” Pricilla said scathingly. “I’ve had enough of this beastly riding. I think I’m getting freckles.”

Horace looked at her and found himself musing over how she would look with freckles and hating how pleasing he found the image.

“Good,” Horace said before he could think, and Pricilla glared at him.

“Lord Basil where are we going to rest,” Pricilla said ignoring him. She had decided to ignore him now and seemed to be trying to gain the favor of Basil.

“There is a traveler’s waystation ahead if records hold true,” Basil answered. “Just around the bend ahead. And you may just call me Basil milady, I am so far out of line for the Odell title I hardly warrant being called Lord.”

Pricilla made a face of disappointment, pouting like a child.

“There is always Kaden Lady Pricilla,” Horace said lowly and Pricilla glared at him.

“He is married,” She hissed at him.

“So? As I understand he isn’t close with his wife,” Horace said. “He could always leave her for you.”

“I will not be the second woman or worse a mistress,” Pricilla said hotly. “I’m too good for that.”

Horace didn’t answer feeling ashamed; Pricilla may be a brat, but she had every right to her pride and chastity. That she felt such worth in herself made him feel he was lacking in that respect. As time went on he only felt more and more worthless.

They reached the roadside waystation, a small log cabin with a watering tough. Basil saw to the horses as the rest of them went into the cabin. It was a neat little store packed with all the goods a traveler might need, an Elmerian man sitting at the counter with a string game between his fingers.

“Greetings,” he said in the trade tongue.

“Greetings,” Horace after a pause when Kaden did not answer. “We need a few supplies, maybe a hot meal.”

“And a bath,” Pricilla said.

“I have a stew on the fire and plenty of supplies,” the Elmerian said. “But a bath is a tall order.”

“Some hot water then,” Horace said before Pricilla could say anything. He dropped a silver royal on the counter and the Elmerian scooped it up.

“Right away milord,” the man said with a bob of his head. “Help yourself to the stew.”

He left to draw water and they went to the fireside. Glen served out the stew of bacon, beans, and carrots, Horace just glad to have something hot. He remembered fellow knights gripping and moaning over their meals many times when they had been on the road. He had as well, but now he couldn’t help but wonder how many people in the world would be over joyed just to have this.

Pricilla of course turned her nose up at the meal.

“It’s this or trail rations,” Horace said. “At least it’s hot.”

Making a face Pricilla ate, seeming to warm to the stew after a few bites. Her hunger must have overcome her dislike. She was still bearing much of her weight, if anything she had gained weight from her time in Alda. How, Horace didn’t know since the Aldan ate lightly.

Basil came in and served himself some food before going to haggle with the store owner for some supplies. The store owner set a bucket of water to heat over the fire, and soon Pricilla had enough hot water to wash up a little. Glen used some as well, sighing contently.

“You’ve been traveling a long time now haven’t you Glen?” Horace said feeling sad. Glen smiled at him and patted his arm reassuringly. Horace nodded back to him, but he wondered about his brother and how he was fairing. He couldn’t speak, so he could never voice his problems. Horace was starting to feel how lonely that must be, he was starting to miss talking with Glen so it must be worse for him.

Horace washed after Kaden, leaving only a little for Basil who didn’t seem to mind. They were just getting ready to leave when two men stepped into the store. They were obviously drovers, typical Markian stock of thick brows and burly build. Both noticed Pricilla first, and then eyed Horace warily. Not liking their cut Horace’s hand dropped to his sword. The two eyed him until Basil stepped between them.

“Greetings,” Basil said smoothly. “Though I fear it will have to be farewell now, we were just leaving.”

He started towards the door when one of the drovers stepped in his path.

“You are Aldan,” the man said, and Horace almost wanted to reply with a quip about the man’s intelligence.

“I am,” Basil said lowly, something in his voice making Horace’s hair stand on end. Both the drovers looked afraid then, sharing a look like they were just told a storm was on its way.

“Why have you left the forest?” the first man asked afraid.

“I think you know the answer to that already,” Basil answered.

“Aye,” the man said lowly. He nodded and stepped aside so they could pass.

They walked by Horace surprised that they had escaped trouble.

“What was that about?” Horace asked as he helped Basil with the horses.

“The Mark has shared boarders with Alda for as long as the kingdoms existed,” Basil answered. “When we closed the boarders, I suspect the people of the Mark took it as a sign of our end. The fact that we have left means our end is near.”

“He didn’t seem happy about it,” Horace said, and Basil smiled wanly.

“Maybe that will be enough,” Basil said sadly and mounted his horse.

They continued on the road for another five days, passing only a few outposts or drover towns. Occasionally they passed a Rhodin caravan, but the wandering people passed them without even a greeting. The trip seemed to be going uneventful, until they reached a village. Horace wasn’t sure of the name of the village, they never got the chance to stop there. Riding in they found the village eerily quiet, only the crows could be heard. People watched them from windows or doors, but none ventured out. They reached the inn, Basil once again taking care of the horses. Entering the inn they found few travelers, places like these should have plenty of the Rhodin but it was empty except for a few tradesmen.

They paid for a few rooms and a meal, sitting by the fire as they waited for some stew and bread. Pricilla ordered a bath filled for her, Horace feeling pity for the poor girl that was hauling the hot water from the kitchen.

“Couldn’t you just wash in a basin?” Horace asked as the girl hauled the fifth bucket upstairs while Pricilla waited.

“I want to be clean,” Pricilla said as she examined the goat’s milk soap the innkeeper had given her. “And I won’t feel very clean with soap like this so hot water is the best there is. You girl, help me comb my hair while I soak.”

The girl bowed as Pricilla followed her upstairs. Horace rolled his eyes and returned to his meal.

“Go easy on her,” Basil said. “She doesn’t know any better.”

“No, she does,” Horace said. “She’s known wealth and luxury all her life and doesn’t seem to understand other people are suffering.”

“And is that so bad?” Basil asked. “To see only the wonderful things of the world?”

“It is if it makes you blind,” Horace muttered.

“I for one envy the luxury of that innocence,” Basil answered.

“She can’t have that luxury anymore though,” Horace answered vehemently. “She can’t go back to that life. And if she is to hold any sort of power then she should understand everything that is happening to those she rules.”

“You care a lot for her,” Basil said. “To be so concerned about how she sees the world.”

Horace felt his face flush and stood quickly.

“I’ll go deliver her meal,” Horace said grabbing some bread and a bowl of stew. He went up to their room, finding Pricilla squeezed into a small tub as she washed. She had gotten the girl to brush her hair, the girl smiling as she worked tenderly on the golden locks. Pricilla jumped when he entered and quickly covered herself.

“Get out!” Pricilla said hotly.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Horace said setting the stew and bread down on the table.

“I’ll eat later,” Pricilla said, her cheeks pink. “Now leave.”

Horace didn’t answer, feeling cross he leaned against the door and crossed his arms. Glaring at him Pricilla shifted in the bath so her back was to him and continued to wash. The girl continued to brush her hair, seeming rather fascinated with the process. Horace watched Pricilla, unable to help feeling a sense of admiration for her porcelain skin and golden hair.

“Do you think the innkeeper would let me have her?” Pricilla asked breaking into his thoughts.

“Have who?” Horace asked puzzled.

“Betty,” Pricilla said pointing to the girl who looked at her and then at Horace confused. “I need a lady’s maid, Alora wouldn’t send any with me, but a servant is just as good.”

“She isn’t a slave,” Horace said.

“I know that, I said servant,” Pricilla said. “I’ll pay her once I get married. The experience would be good enough anyways.”

“Pricilla, ask her yourself,” Horace said, feeling odd about talking about a person who was right in the room. Then again how many times did he do that with their household servants? Not many, but he could recall times suddenly when he spoke in front of servants as if they weren’t there.

“Well asking her doesn’t matter, it is her employer that I need permission from to hire her,” Pricilla said.

“I’ll go ask milady,” Betty said. “If I may?”

“Yes good,” Pricilla said pleased. “A good servant always anticipates her mistress’s needs. But only speak when spoken to, understood?”

“Yes milady,” Betty said. “Thank you, milady.”

“Go on now,” Pricilla said, and Betty scampered away excited. “Now you’re going to tell me we can’t afford another person on this journey or she’ll only slow us down.”

“No more than you are slowing us,” Horace said, and Pricilla glared at him.

“Why must you always belittle me!” Pricilla shouted at him angrily.

“Because you are petty and little,” Horace answered angrily. “I state what you are, and you are a petty little brat with no brain that can only think of herself.”

Pricilla stood suddenly, water dripping down from her naked body. She snatched up her towel and wrapped it around herself storming up to him.

“And you know what you are?” Pricilla said lowly. “A hypocrite, you’ve lived your life same as mine. You said you loved me without even saying one word to me. You only want to have your way with me and after you slake your lust you will forget me like any other whore.”

Her words bit deep because Horace knew they were true. He felt so much shame he hid it with anger.

“Then maybe I should take you so no other man can have you,” Horace said lowly moving closer. He saw fear flash through her eyes, real fear of him, and that look turned his shame to horror at himself. He turned away and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He left the inn and slumped down under a lemon tree outside, bearing his face in his hands. He felt more than heard Glen sit next to him.  Glen of course said nothing, but more in a way that he was waiting for Horace to talk rather than his usually silence.

“I take it you heard us shouting?” Horace said, and Glen nodded. “But you didn’t hear what I whispered.” Glen tipped his head indicating confusion. So, Horace told him, and this time Glen’s silence took on a disapproving tone. “I’m a horrible person,” Horace said, and Glen shook his head and made the sign of redemption and forgiveness. “You think I should apologize? Maybe but I doubt she would forgive me nor do I feel like I deserve it.”

Glen made a sad face and patted Horace on the back, offering what comfort he could. Horace sighed loudly and buried his face in his hands, not wanting to go back into the inn. The evening grew dark and still he and Glen sat together outside the inn. Shadowy figures drew their attention, five men heading into the inn. Horace was up with his sword drawn, heading for the inn with Glen hot on his heels.

Inside he found the men had entered from the back and had already moved into the common room. Horace rushed into the common room to find the men just finishing killing the innkeeper, Basil and Kaden by the fire with weapons drawn. The men were of the Legion, wearing the dirty burlap and marked with sores.

“You have been marked by Kal Ba’el,” one of the men said drawing a rusty dagger. “You will come with us.”

“No,” Horace answered levelly but they were at a disadvantage. The men all bore daggers, ideal for fighting inside, while he and Basil were both armed with sword and bow better suited for places they had room to maneuver. The man grinned and pulled out Betty from behind the bar, putting a dagger to her throat.

“You will come or the girl dies,” the man said. Horace felt his heart lurch, he knew the man would kill the girl anyways. He was desperately trying to think of a solution, but none was coming to him. Then he felt the air grow hotter, the fire in the fireplace flaring. The flames formed into a serpent like creature with spindly legs, a Salamandra that Glen had summoned before. It leapt from the fireplace onto two of the men, the others turning in surprise as their brethren went up in flames.

Horace dove and pulled Betty free, punching the man in the face with the pommel of his sword. A scream tore his gaze over to the stairs to see Pricilla dressed and staring at the fire in horror. Horace felt something punch into his side, his mail turning the blade. He pushed Betty away so he could concentrate on his opponent, holding his sword across his body like a staff almost. The man kept stabbing at him with his rusty dagger, Horace turning the thrusts aside with mail or sword until at last he got an opening to bash his pommel against the man’s temple felling him.

Horace heard another scream and turned to see one of the men had Pricilla by the hair, dragging her to the exit. Betty leapt over trying to stop him, but the man lashed out with his dagger catching her across the throat. Blood spurted and Betty fell, but her distraction had bought Horace the time to reach them, his sword sinking into the man’s side. Pricilla stood shaking staring down at Betty who lay gaping on the floor.

She rushed over and tried to stop the bleeding, but it did little good the girl was dying. Horace looked up to see the common room was on fire, no sign of Basil or Kaden, Glen stood by the back-door beckoning. Horace grabbed Pricilla by the arm, but she wouldn’t move.

“Help her!” Pricilla cried.  

“She’s dead Pricilla!” Horace shouted. “Come on or we will be too.”

“No!” Pricilla wailed. Grinding his teeth Horace sheathed his sword and scooped up the girl, Pricilla following him as he dashed for the exit. Coughing they emerged into the cool night air, running from the burning inn. No one was about, no one was trying to stop the blaze. Horace set Betty down and Pricilla bent over her. Her eyes were glassy, and her breath no longer came.

“She’s dead,” Horace said.

“No!” Pricilla cried out. “Do something!”

“Pricilla…”

“No, Sect Glen surely the gods can do something!” Pricilla said but Glen sadly shook his head. “She… she saved my life… there must be something….”

The jangle of horse tack drew Horace’s attention and he looked up to see Basil and Kaden leading their horses over.

“Come on Pricilla,” Horace said. “We have to go.”

“She was going to be my servant,” Pricilla said hollowly, and Horace nearly snapped at her callow behavior until she spoke again. “I was supposed to protect her.”

Horace felt like he had been kicked and saw Pricilla crumble before him, breaking into heart wrenching sobs. She started to gather Betty in her arms, but Glen stopped her pulling her back. She wailed trying to reach the girl, but Glen pulled her to her feet towards the horses. Horace helped him, trying to get her to mount but Pricilla fought him. Finally, he pulled her up onto his horse and mounted behind her, pulling her against his chest. She collapsed into a fit of weeping against him as they rode out of the village.

They stopped in the lee of a hill and made a rough camp once more, Pricilla out cold from her sorrow. Horace made her comfortable before joining the others at the fire.

“It wasn’t fair,” Horace said lowly and Glen nodded.

“Violence is never fair,” Basil said wearily.

“I think it will be only more dangerous from here on,” Kaden said rubbing his arms. “We are being hunted, I can feel it.”

“We can’t avoid towns,” Horace said. “Pricilla won’t stand it besides we need supplies.”

“No, but we can’t stay in towns,” Kaden said. “We will just pass through.”

“And what is to stop them from tracking us and attacking while we are on the road?” Horace asked and Kaden’s face paled. Glen waved his hands then and made the signs of wandering and people.

“The Rhodin?” Horace asked and Glen nodded.

“They would never let us travel with them,” Basil said. “Only the Rhodin are welcoming to the Rhodin.”

Glen took Horace’s hand and spelled something out Horace un sure what it was.

“K-R-E-E, Kree,” Horace said. “What is Kree?”

Glen made the sign of woman and then wandering people again.

“A Rhodin woman,” Horace said, and Glen nodded. “Could she help?” Glen shook his head. “Then how can she help?” Glen made the sign of name. “Name?” Horace said confused.

“I think he means that if we give her name at a Rhodin camp they will help us,” Basil said. “They are known to help those who know other Rhodin. Mainly because the Rhodin still lay with outsiders, if a woman gets with child from a Rhodin man she could go to any camp and give his name. So if we go to a Rhodin camp, they might let us travel with them if we give Kree’s name.”

“How on earth do the Rhodin know all each other’s names?” Horace asked doubtful.

“I have no idea,” Basil said. “We could ask but I doubt they would tell us.”

Horace just made a sour face and turned away to get some sleep. They took turns on watch, though Kaden said he would sense danger before it arrived Horace didn’t want to take the chance. Morning thankfully came without sign of pursuit so they rode off once more. Their decision to find a Rhodin caravan for aid started to prove difficult as the days turned without any sign of the Rhodin.

“We’re traveling the main road shouldn’t they be around?” Horace grumbled. Typical of the Rhodin to be nowhere when they were needed. Glen made the signs of travel and lesser paths. “They travel the back roads? Well how would we find them then?”

“We’ll lose time traveling those roads,” Basil said. “Besides the likelihood of getting lost. There is a reason only the Rhodin travel those roads, they’re probably the only ones who know them well enough. Besides the way the back roads meander and twist it would take longer to travel them.”

“Then why should we travel with the Rhodin?” Horace asked loudly.

“Because it will be safer,” Kaden said. Horace fell silent glancing back at Pricilla. She had been silent since the village, not a word of complaint passing her lips. She barely ate and sat in the saddle listlessly. Horace was deeply worried and wanted to get to the safety of Warren quickly. At the same time, he knew they needed some form of protection soon.

The next day they decided to go off the main highway, along a back country road. The road wound in and out of woods and dells, occasionally cresting a hill. They passed secluded farms, seeing mostly cattle out in the fields. For a few days there were no signs of the Rhodin until Glen pointed to an old scarf tied to a tree, signing that this was a marker of the Rhodin. He led the way off the road down an animal path, Horace gripping his sword and eyeing the bushes around them. Then they smelled smoke, not the smoke of camp fires since it carried the thick smell of burning flesh and hair.

They emerged from the trees into a clearing of burnt ruin, the ground and husks of wagons still smoking. Horace could make out the twisted remains of people in the wreckage, their bodies little more than charcoal now.

“It looks like not even the Rhodin are safe anymore,” Horace said grimly. Pricilla whimpered and hastily slid off her horse running to the bushes. Horace quickly followed her to hear her noisily retching in the bushes. He helped her stand, her face drawn and pale.

“Those poor people…” Pricilla said with horror. Horace felt a pang of guilt, he had wished Pricilla would be more understanding of the plight of others; now that she did he suddenly wished she hadn’t.

“Come, we need to get out of here,” Horace said gently.

“But who could do such a thing?” Pricilla asked. “I never liked the Rhodin but this…”

“The Legion of the Creed seems to be hunting them as they are hunting us,” Horace said. “We need to go.”

“The Legion…” Pricilla said fear lighting her eyes. “The men back at the village, they were like the one that broke into the Sect during the wedding then. They were the ones that killed my sister.”

Horace had forgotten about that; he hadn’t been in Cair Leone at the time so he had missed the wedding and the attack on the Sect. He realized then that Pricilla had every reason to fear the Legion.

“Yes, but I’m here to protect you,” Horace said, hoping he sounded reassuring. She looked up at him with eyes shinning with tears before moving closer to hold onto him like he would shelter her. Feeling like he was lying he let her, guiding her back to her horse.

“Now what?” Basil said wearily as they mounted and turned back from the fearsome sight. “Even if we manage to find a Rhodin caravan, which I doubt there are any in these parts anymore, we probably won’t be any safer with them.”

Horace turned to Glen, he had thought of the Rhodin so maybe he could think of something else. Maybe there was something he could do with magic. But it was Kaden who spoke up.

“Glen, I’ve been sensing the threads, but I can’t make out what is going on with them,” Kaden said. Glen sighed sadly shaking his head. “I know, since I lost my memory, I lost my skill with the threads, but I can still sense them. I’m having to learn things all over again. What do you sense?”

Glen made the signs of wayward, winds, and seeking.

“They seek us but cannot find us?” Horace said, and Glen nodded. “What about the winds?”

Glen made the sign of hidden.

“The winds hide us?” Horace asked. “How do winds hide us?”

“Of course!” Kaden said. “The winds of the aether, have you been calling them to hide us?”

Glen shook his head and made the sign of Iris.

“Iris has,” Horace said.

“You mean Arke the Color Weaver,” Kaden said. “If she could hide us why seek the Rhodin?”

Glen made the sign of holes and imperfection.

“The winds are not perfect,” Horace said. “I don’t think we can get to Warren with only the winds of whatever protecting us.”

“I think we can,” Kaden said. “Arke can only do so much from her side of things, she can only hide our tracks in the aether so the Legion has to find us by physical means. But we are here in Miread, we should be able to work something out on our end. What of the Wild Kin?”

Glen shook his head, signing that it would not be enough.

“Then stepping sideways?” Kaden said and again Glen shook his head. “No that would take too much to keep up. Do you have any ideas then?”

Glen seemed to think a moment before nodding, making the sign of protection.

“Protection?” Horace said, and Kaden frowned.

“You don’t mean a ward, do you?” Kaden said. “A ward must be grounded in one place.”

Glen shook his head, making the sign of the sky. Horace didn’t know what he meant and neither did Kaden, so Glen proceeded to show them. He dismounted and then walked around the group, his hands moving as if he were gathering something. He walked around them three times, then walked backwards, and then forwards once more. When he finished, he mounted again, Kaden looking at him like he was mad.

“Did you use aether in that warding?” Kaden said softly. Glen nodded somberly.

“Aether? Is that possible?” Basil said. “Would it even work to protect us in Miread?”

“No, it shouldn’t,” Kaden said. “But I see little choice in the matter. We need to ride on.”

“Our only chance then is to ride hard and hope we get to Warren without any more encounters,” Horace said grimly.

They set out once more, backtracking until they returned to the road, days wasted on the venture to the Rhodin. Pricilla remained dejected, Horace’s heart heavy to see her so broken. They rode for another week, pushing their horses hard and resting little. They passed several other villages, all with signs of the Legion but none with a significant force to hinder them. It was ten days later after Glen had drawn his ward that it was tested.

They arrived at another village, only another week’s ride from Warren, when five of the Legion waited for them on the road outside of town. They were armed with farm implements and wore no armor, but Horace doubted he could take on all five men alone. Basil had his bow strung, but Horace did not like the odds of five against two especially when there were three people they had to protect. The men said nothing, simply charged.

Basil took out two with two swift arrows, but the other three were within striking distance before he could fell them. Then all three stopped dead, falling as if felled by a fist. Horace rode over, looking down at the men to see them dead without a mark on them. He turned to Glen who was watching all with mild interest.

“How?” Horace said shocked.

“The ward,” Kaden said astonished. “I see what he did now. He set a ward around us in the aether, one that should someone cross it their spirit will flee their body. It only works on those already weak of spirit, like the Legion who have had their spirits eaten away by the Crippled One. The ward travels with us because it is in the aether not in Miread.”

Horace decided he didn’t need to understand, as long as they were safe. They rode on for another week and thankfully reached Warren at last without any more encounters. Horace got the sense they were followed, but it seemed the Legion now knew of the danger of attacking them.

The walls of Warren rose over the hills, thick and impenetrable. The gates were all closed as well except for the west gate, forcing them to ride around the city to the only open gate. Horace watched the walls as they rode past, noting the soldiers and knights lining the battlements. Reaching the gate they arrived to find it crowded with wagons and people. It was a long wait to be let into the city, but at last they reached the guards. The guards looked at Basil and Kaden with surprise, but they eyed Glen, Horace, and Pricilla with a more hostile air.

“Greetings,” one of the city guards said looking at them warily, eyeing Horace most of all.

“Greetings sir,” Basil said. “I am Basil Odell and this is my cousin Lord Kaden Odell, we bear a message for the King of the Mark from Queen Alora Tira-Dora.”

“Yes milord,” the guard said bowing to both of them. “Ride on to the palace.”

Basil bowed in return and started to ride through with Kaden when the guards stood in the path of Horace, Glen, and Pricilla.

“And your business here?” the guard said to Horace darkly.

“We are with Lord Odell,” Horace answered icily.

“A Regarian with the Aldan?” the guard scoffed. “Spies more like it. Be gone.”

Horace saw Pricilla sit up higher, a spark of anger returning to her eyes, but it was Basil who answered the guard.

“Sir these are our travel companions, Sir Horace De Modeste, Sect Glen De Modeste, and the Princess Pricilla Drasir. If you wish to turn them away then you turn away me and Lord Odell, as well as the message we bear.”

The guard glared at Horace and then turned to another guard. They exchanged soft words and the other guard hurried off.

“We will see if the King wishes to see all of you,” the guard said frostily. “Wait here.”

“Some welcome of the Lords of Alda being kept waiting on the door step,” Basil said angrily.

“Easy Basil,” Kaden said, and he dismounted. “If we must wait then we wait.”

They all dismounted and moved to the side of the gate, watching as the rest of the traffic passed them. Horace glared at the guards as they glared right back at him. At last a page from the castle came running up, passing a message to the guards in Markian. The guards nodded and walked over to them to address Basil.

“The King will receive all of you,” he said flatly. “We are to escort you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Basil said with a bow. Horace said nothing to the insult that they were to be brought before the King by guards as if they were criminals. They mounted again and the guards led them off into the city.

After a few blocks Horace was glad they had a guide. Even though he could see the palace towering over the city, the streets wound and twisted so much he was lost within moments. The streets went in and out of tunnels and over bridges, the dark stone of the buildings making it seem very much like they were underground.

They turned a corner and suddenly they had arrived at the palace, the great gates of the keep looming over them. This time they were not kept waiting outside, grooms hurrying forward in the courtyard to take their horses. A man was waiting for them at the entrance to the castle, an older man in servant’s livery of the House of Lonna.

“Greetings lords and lady,” the man said bowing to them. “I am Graham, the King’s steward. Come, you must be weary from your journey.”

“We are sir, but our message comes before our comfort,” Basil said. “We will see the king now.”

“Now?” Graham said shocked. “Manners of the Aldan truly have slipped. I cannot lead anyone before the king still bearing the dust of the road on them.”

“Lonna is expecting us now,” Kaden said stepping forward. “And he will see us now.”

“Then your weapons sirs,” Graham said. Reluctantly they parted with swords and bow, Glen and Pricilla were unarmed.

“This way milord,” Graham said leading them into the keep. The entry hall was grand and spacious, pillars holding up the tall ceiling. Tapestries lined the walls, the marble floor polished until it shown. Marching through the entry hall Graham led them to the further set of double doors which stood open to the Court of Fates.

People were still arriving to the court, lesser or greater nobles of the Mark gathering in the hall. Horace wondered for a moment what the commotion was since it seemed like everyone was gathering hastily, then he realized as heads turned towards them that they were the reason for the impromptu gathering of the Court of Fates.

Horace hung back, uncomfortable under all the stares directed at them, not all were friendly. Glen walked forward flanking Kaden with Basil, while Pricilla fell into step with Horace. He looked at her, expecting pride or anger at the glares directed at her, instead he saw her looking around wide eyed like she was seeing those around her for the first time.

“No one looks happy to see us,” Pricilla said lowly. “Is it because of the message of war Lord Kaden is bringing?”

“They haven’t heard his message yet,” Horace answered.

“Then why are they glaring at us?” Pricilla asked.

“They are not glaring at Kaden or Basil, Pricilla,” Horace said lowly, watching as that registered with her.

“But why are they glaring at me then?” Pricilla asked.

“Maybe because your father cut off their prince’s hand,” Horace answered.

“But that wasn’t my fault,” Pricilla whimpered. “This isn’t fair.”

Horace couldn’t answer her because he was feeling much the same. He personally had done nothing to the Markians, yet as a Regarian he was being held responsible for those who had. Why punish those who agreed that wrong had been done and not punish those who had committed the crimes in the first place? Because they couldn’t punish them Horace realized, Mark could not attack Regis, but it could take out its anger on a few individuals instead.

They reached the throne, King Lonna sitting on his throne looking weary. His hair had more white than black in it, his face drawn with lines of sorrow. Horace counted the Queen and Princes until he came to the last member of the royal household he had not expected to see.

“Jeanne!” Pricilla said shocked seeing the woman sitting at the end of the dais. Jeanne Lonna looked like the dead, her eyes sunken in dark circles and face thin. Her eyes flashed to hear Pricilla’s shout, standing she drew a rapier.

“Drasir scum,” Jeanne growled lowly advancing. Horace stood in her path, though he was unarmed he still wore his mail and could fight. Kaden however stepped in Jeanne’s path before Horace, though his eyes were on King Lonna.

“So, this is the welcome we receive to your court?” Kaden said. “Drawn steel.”

“You brought these Regarian dogs into our halls!” Jeanne shouted. “We have every right to slay them on the spot.”

“What is going on?” Basil said shocked. “Were you not married to King Drasir Lady Jeanne? Why have you returned to your father’s household?”

Jeanne’s glare could have melted steel, but Basil did not flinch from her.

“Daughter,” King Lonna said wearily. “The Aldan have been in isolation, they of course have not heard the news.”

Jeanne sneered and returned to her throne, though her sword still lay bare in her hand.

“Excuse my daughter,” Lonna said, his words slow as if speaking caused him pain. “The King has set her aside.”

“That is putting it gently,” one of the princes said angrily. “He raped her and made her sterile and then blamed her! He sent her back broken and we are expected to just sit here as if he has done nothing!”

“Easy Asher,” Lonna said but the prince remained irate.

“I will not just sit here like you father,” Asher said angrily. “You let your children be mutilated and have done nothing!”

This seemed too much for Lonna because he stood and turned on his son with rage in his eyes.

“I am not just your father!” Lonna shouted. “I am the King of the Mark and I have my people to consider. Would you have me to ask them to die for your honor? I will not let others blood be shed for the sake of my family’s pride!”

Silence greeted this outburst, Lonna slumping back into his throne.

Kaden stepped forward bowing to King Lonna.

“Majesty, there is a greater threat to the Kingdoms than the Regarian rule,” Kaden said.

“You mean the Orc Army and the Lirians,” Lonna said. “Tell me, why does it matter? Surely there is little difference between the two, both will rule us with tyranny anyways.”

“The difference is that the Orcs are intent on the genocide of the Aldans,” Kaden answered.

“And we would grieve the loss of your people,” Lonna said. “But I am not King of Alda, I am King of the Mark and it is my people I must consider.”

“You will not be around to grieve if Alda falls!” Kaden said hotly. “If Alda falls the Orcs will only sweep across the Kingdoms like wildfire.”

“And you know this how?” Lonna asked. “Whatever their grudge against the Aldans they do not seem to bear it to any other race for they have not killed all the Lirians whose kingdom they occupy.”

“The grudge they bear is against the Phay,” Kaden said. “The Aldans being a race of the Phay are their target yes, but do you think they will be content once all the Aldans are dead? They are the last of the Phay in Miread, once the Phay are gone they will turn to the races of men.”

“Then we will face them when they come,” Lonna said dismissively. Horace could see the princes and Jeanne were not pleased with this yet the looks on their faces suggested they had been through these arguments with their father before. That was when Horace realized if they were to get an army from the Mark it would not be coming from Lonna.

“You may if you wish majesty,” Horace said stepping forward. “To those who wish to face the enemy though may come to Alda.”

“Enemy?” Jeanne said with disgust. “The only enemy I see is you and the Regarians.”

“No!” Horace said facing her angrily. “The Orcs threaten one of the Nine and you talk about squabbling with Regis. What was done to you Jeanne was the work of one man, do not hold our people responsible for the acts of our king.”

“Or those of Alda,” Kaden said gravely. “Alda needs the Mark.”

Horace saw Jeanne chewing on these words angrily, Lonna seemed ready to turn them away unwilling to listen, and the Princes looked torn between the desire to fight and fear of disobeying their father. Then Pricilla stepped forward her head held high. Horace would have stopped her, but Glen held him back as Pricilla stood before King Lonna.

“My brother is a mean monster,” Pricilla said. “He always teased me when we were little, so I always hated him. But I know him well, and I know this is exactly what he would want. He is probably happy that all of you are here sitting around the fire in misery. He is happy the Mark and the House Lonna has fallen so far.”

Lonna’s eyes shown with new light of anger and pride, but Jeanne leapt to her feet first.

“And what are you doing here Pricilla?” Jeanne said hotly. “Sent by your brother to rub salt in our wounds?”

“No, my brother did not send me,” Pricilla said loftily. “I had to go into hiding when an assassin attacked.”

Jeanne was silent a moment with shock, Horace realizing what she was going to say then.

“So, you have not heard,” Jeanne said lowly. “Your mother was killed in that attack Pricilla, she is dead.”

Horace saw Pricilla’s face drain of blood and she turned to him with wide eyes. Horace opened his mouth to explain, but he could not speak past the sudden lump in his throat. Glen however stepped in waving his hands, going to Pricilla and putting an arm around her shoulders. Somehow this act helped Horace swallow and finally speak.

“We lied to you yes,” Horace said his voice rasping, Pricilla staring at him with eyes filling with tears. “Only to spare you, the assassin killed your mother.”

She broke down weeping then Glen supporting her in her grief. Horace wanted to do the same, but they had come here for a reason.

“Is this what you wanted Jeanne?” Horace said coldly facing the Princess of the Mark. “To break her like you were broken? Well you have, you are now the monster you so hate.”

“You know nothing!” Jeanne shrieked. “He raped me, mutilated me, blinded my lover and stole him from me, and he tortured a woman I had sworn to protect. I have been banished and cannot go to their aid. You want us to fight the Orcs when I need to go to Regis and save those I love!”

Horace had an idea then and turned to Pricilla still weeping in Glen’s arms. He reached out and touched her arm gently, Pricilla looking up at him with a tear streaked face. He was glad to see not hatred in her eyes, only sorrow. She had just lost her mother, and Horace thinking of his own felt a pang of sorrow in sympathy.

“Do you want to go home?” Horace asked lowly and fear filled her eyes. He saw the war inside her, the desire to return home as well as the fear of facing what was there. Then she nodded, and Horace turned to Jeanne.

“We will go back to the Court of Miracles,” Horace said to Jeanne. “We will save those who you want us to save.”

Jeanne glared at them fingering the hilt of her sword as she considered the offer.

“I take it in return you want aid for Alda?” Jeanne asked.

“That is not something you can promise is it?” Horace answered as he looked to the King. Jeanne turned to her father as well, but Lonna still slumped in his throne.

“I still will not risk the lives of my people,” Lonna said.

“You will not, but will they?” Kaden asked. “Why not put the choice to them?”

“I am their King!” Lonna shouted jumping to his feet. “I lead them, I protect them, and it is my decision if they are to go to battle. I will not let you steal my people from me.”

“No one is talking of doing that majesty,” Basil said gently. “We are here to see you after all. Surely there must be something that Alda can offer so that you would lend us aid.”

“We are not the Hyrians to be bought by Regarian gold,” Lonna growled.

“I never said anything of gold,” Basil said. “All alliances must come with an agreement of some sort that would benefit both parties, we need your aid but understand that we cannot ask you to risk the lives of your people with no benefit. What could Alda offer that would be to the Mark’s benefit?”

“Do you really have that kind of negotiating power?” Lonna asked skeptically.

“Alora sent us with every intent of honoring what we would promise,” Kaden said. “She gave me full reign in negotiations and will agree to whatever I say.”

Horace was shocked and telling by the murmurs of the court so was everyone else. The Kings of the Nine Kingdoms rarely lent out so much power to their diplomats. The fact that Alora had only showed how desperate Alda truly was. Horace saw this sinking in with Lonna, sorrow draining him more.

“It is really that bad is it?” he said lowly. “Very well, there is only one thing that I am willing to go to war for, and that is the High Throne. If the Mark is to join Alda in this venture we will do it only with the promise that Alda will join us at war with Regis to over throw Elrik Drasir.”

The court erupted in shouts and calls, Horace noting most was in eager agreement rather than argument. Lonna shouted and the hall quieted, all eyes going to Kaden.

“And who shall be the heir to the throne that we will back?” Kaden asked levelly.

“The witch twins that visited my court,” Lonna answered. “I sent them on to Alda, they are still there are they not?”

“No,” Kaden answered. “One has entered the war herself, the other travels to Hyria to see if King Wildlough could be persuaded to aid Alda. However, their claim to the throne has been determined lesser to another’s. King Terrian IV Alvar had a bastard son by Selene Lonelove, Alora has recognized his claim.”

The uproar this time was so loud it took Lonna several tries to quiet the court so he could speak.  

“If what you say is true his claim may even be better than Elrik’s,” Lonna said. “We might stand a better chance if the Mark were to attack Regis, then we could ally to defeat Lir.”

“We must see to the Orc army first majesty,” Kaden answered to Lonna’s displeasure. “So, you will go to war with us?”

Lonna glared down at him, drumming his fingers on the arm of his throne. Horace saw Kaden grinding his teeth in frustration, but the Aldan Lord managed to keep his silence as he waited the King’s answer.

“Very well,” Lonna said carelessly. “We will discuss details later, when you are rested.”

“Thank you, majesty,” Kaden said bowing low. “Thank you.”

He led the way off to where a servant was waiting to take them to rest. Horace watched Pricilla carefully, her face was still bloodless and drawn.

“Will we really return to the Court of Miracles?” Pricilla said softly almost to herself.

“Me and Glen will take you back,” Horace said. “We took you it is only fitting we return you. I swear it.”

Pricilla looked at him, but he was unable to read her expression. She simply nodded and continued to follow Glen, Horace feeling as he were walking on knives.