#i can peacefully conclude this race in my mind having been able to make a gifpost-

[skitskatdacat63]

2023 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix - Fernando Alonso(aka me ignoring the penalty)(*edit, I successfully willed away his penalty)

[yuuri-nsane]

Bloom

Fandom: Yuuri On Ice

Ship: Viktuuri [Viktor Nikiforov/Katsuki Yuuri]

T/W: none, but if you read this and feel that there should be a warning for a certain something, please don't hesitate to let me know!

Summary: Crown Prince Viktor Nikiforov has grown into quite the dashing young man. He's charming, good-looking, and surprisingly witty. His highness, although considered quite the social butterfly, likes to spend time alone in the royal gardens at ungodly hours of the night. What happens when someone interrupts his way there, in a partially concerning, yet impressive way?

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three]

a/n: hey guys!! this is a viktuuri royalty au, as requested by @confusedgayscreeching! thank you so much for the request, and for motivating me!

anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this! there isn't so much action here, but it was so fun to write! i might even make a part two? ps. please please please let me know if you see any errors or spelling mistakes! and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! thank you!

---

He shuffled quietly through the halls of the castle, his footsteps only barely above a whisper. His movements were precise, sharp. It was as if he'd done this a million times before, which, of course, he had.

It wasn't his first time sneaking out of his room after dark, but then again, you could never be too careful. Not when you're the crown prince and a handful of guards have sworn loyalty to you and your family - it was basically a subtle promise of imprisonment. Viktor scoffed in exasperation, shaking his head; he had to focus, dammit! Or else he'd get caught again. And God knows how much trouble he'd gotten into last time.

He slipped through a pair of grand wooden doors leading into the kitchen, opting to use the door in the back to leave the castle and go venture into the gardens. He clambered his way past the central island on his left, several utensils hanging above and glistening in the moonlight. Quiet grey light shone through the obscenely large window behind said utensils, forcing glowing streaks to bounce through the shiny metal that hung above, and to rest peacefully on the wall adjacent.

Viktor reached for the door, pushing ever so slightly, a somber creak emitting from the motion - as he perked his head through. A tuft of silver hair spiked into the gap, ruffling slightly from the biting breeze of the night.

He scanned the view before him, a quick, calculating observation before he deemed it safe to step outside. He made to open the door entirely, before he was pulled backward, a sudden arm wrapping around his shoulders from behind him, lead by a quick flicking wrist which smacked a hand onto his mouth quite ungracefully.

The crown prince couldn't help the strangled exclamation that gargled in his throat. His eyes widened and his eyebrows furrowed, both in confusion and minute panic. He was forced to bend backwards slightly, giving him the impression that his captor was smaller than himself, albeit by quite a bit. It wasn't until he felt a soft thud from behind, suggesting the two had been backed into the opposing wall of the window, that he heard a voice.

And boy, was it a voice.

"Shhh! Don't move, they're coming!"

Viktor jumped in surprise. He certainly wasn't expecting that.

He sounded...young. Or at least he thought he did, from what he could guess given the low, frantic whisper that caressed the shell of his right ear. His age, he pondered. A good twenty years old, if he could make such an educated estimate. He was originally opting for an older man, maybe in his thirties instead - given his strength (which Viktor admitted bitterly, was on a level that he could only barely compete with), and the fact that most ruffians and enemies of the royal family usually fit into that age category.

He could be wrong, maybe this man was in fact thirty, and his voice just, hadn't broken...yet? Viktor grumbled dumbly, or at least he mustered a pathetic sigh from behind the hand clamped tightly around his face. That didn't sound right - no, it sounded ridiculous. The perpetrator didn't have a child-like voice to begin with, it just didn't sound like the gruff growl he'd been anticipating. No, instead, it was the opposite?

He continued to circle hopelessly in his mind, overthinking who exactly was keeping his mouth shut with such an unnecessarily strong grip. It wasn't like Viktor was going to try and escape, anyway. He hadn't even considered it. He was far too perplexed by the situation, and also a little too scared.

The prince only barely registered the footsteps on the other side of the door beside him - the one he'd been meaning to use to leave. He froze completely then.

"-hear that?"

"Yes, I'm sure I didn't hear anything."

"But, it sounded like there was someone-"

"Oh, stop it already! I've told you a million times already, there's no such thing as ghosts!"

"No, I don't mean-"

"C'mon, we came here and look! Nothing! No ghouls, no ghosts, no bogey monsters! What you heard was probably just the wind, okay?"

"...Yeah, you're probably right."

"Heh, obviously! Let's go, already - we left our posts just to check out that spooky noise you heard. We should head back before we get in trouble or whatever."

"...Race ya!"

"Wait, what! Leo! Come back! That's not fair-!"

The hazardous yet uncharacteristically soft clanking of armour could be heard quietening down, before absolute silence made a deafening return. Well, Viktor bemused, he'd have to talk to Yakov about the quality of security around here.

He let out a breath of relief, jolting when he remembered the man behind him who still held roughly held him in place, who also in turn, seemed to ease up at the disappearance of the two castle guards outside.

Viktor looked up, uttering a silent prayer before yanking the hand that had clamped his mouth shut moments earlier away from him, swivelling around and capturing both of his captors wrists in one hand, forcing them above the other's head. His free arm, he used to shove the man impossibly further into wall, his forearm digging deep across sharpened shoulders and pointed collarbones.

He was only barely able to rival the other's strength, but that didn't mean he couldn't at all.

Viktor took a moment to breathe. It was at that exact moment that he took into account the unfair embodiment of beauty that stood powerlessly caged within his arms.

It was a contrast to his own looks - Victor being of pale skin and unusually grey-toned hair. His eyes a calm yet raging blue, resembling that of a stormy ocean: elegant, yet unforgiving. A plethoric sea capable of drowning the most unsuspecting.

The culprit however, had dark hair. Sparkling locks of night that flayed here and there - not too messy, but instead just right. His skin was pale also, yet raging splotched roses had began to bloom on the apple of his cheeks.

His eyes, Viktor noted, were also dark. With a quick glance he would've mistaken them for a measly brown, but it was much more than that. Being face to face with his captor allowed him to take into account the light flecks that swirled in such pools of raven black - reflected from the moonlight that relentlessly twinkled into view. Separating his eyes meekly from Victor's intense gaze were a pair of golden framed spectacles - rectangular shaped and thin.

A small, whimpering choke jarred Viktor from of his train of thought - and he refocused his attention.

He went on to clear his throat, squinting accusingly before he questioned, "Care to explain yourself?"

"I-I, uhm..."

"You can start with a name. Who exactly are you?" Viktor goaded. He was curious to say the least: the person he was currently holding down seemed harmless, actually - he was shorter than Viktor, as he'd suspected, and the pure look of fright the other sported was enough to convince Viktor to take just a little bit of pity on him.

"-ri."

"Huh?"

"My, my name. It's..."

"I'm sorry, but you need to speak louder, I can't hear you."

"My name is-it's uh, Yuuri Katsuki!"

Viktor loosened his grip on Yuuri's wrists, before letting go completely, leaning away and giving the other some much needed space.

"Why did you do that?" Viktor asked, intrigued, "why did you stop me from going outside?"

Yuuri cowered in the midst of Viktor's questioning, opening and closing his mouth as if he was looking for the answer himself. He looked much like a fish out of water, the prince mused.

"I, uh," Viktor nodded, urging for Yuuri to carry on, as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at the quivering male, "I remember the first time you got in trouble for sneaking out of bounds after dark. Um, I just-I just didn't want that to happen a-again."

Yuuri wrung his hands anxiously, suddenly looking at the ground in wonder, as if it were the best thing since sliced bread.

Viktor gave a pointed look, but was betrayed by the tilted smirk beginning to form on his lips.

Before he could say anything, though, Yuuri suddenly bent forward - his arms straightened by his sides and head bowed in supplication.

"It-it won't ever happen again! I'm so, so sorry, your majesty! I, uh, I suppose I acted out of impulse - which is completely inexcusable, and, oh! I didn't hurt you did I?! Your highness, I-"

The crown prince looked on in amusement - doing little to cease Yuuri and his garbled rambling.

Instead, he took the time to evaluate what Yuuri had previously said, and he appointed only two main facts:

1) Yuuri worked in the castle, given the fact that he knew about Viktor's embarrassing failed attempt to sneak out once upon a time (and now that Viktor could actually see him, he noticed the slightly formal attired Yuuri wore - which fit the castle staff's dress code uncannily). Yet, Viktor wondered why he hadn't recognised the man before him, nor his name.

and 2) Yuuri saved him from a certain doom, doom being his advisor, Yakov, and his booming wrath, had he been caught in the gardens late at night again.

This, Viktor concluded, could not be overlooked!

"Yuuri Katsuki."

Yuuri immediately sealed his lips, discontinuing the string of apologetic nonsense that would've escaped had he not done so. He looked Viktor in the eye this time, shaking with what Viktor guessed to be both fear and genuine curiosity.

"What were doing in the kitchens at such a late hour?"

At this, Yuuri turned away - his cheeks gaining a darker hue of red. He stuttered and stumbled before Viktor, until reluctantly settling.

"I was, I was actually heading to the gardens...and going through this way is the quickest route. The flowers bloom quite nicely this time of year and, well, I don't have enough time to see them during the day because of the duties I tend to here at the castle. Not that it's too much work for me! In fact, I think it's just the right amount! I'm very happy with my job here, don't get the wrong idea! Not-not that I assumed you would, your highness! I just, uhm, I just...wanted to..see the, uhm, the flowers..."

With every word, Yuuri got impossibly louder and quieter, faster and slower - all simultaneously. It was comical.

He came to a sudden stop, animatedly looking away from Viktor for the umpteenth time.

Viktor, however, made no sudden movements towards Yuuri, instead grinning smugly.

"I was heading to the the gardens too! Before you, uh, made a move on me."

To Viktor's sick amusement, Yuuri's head whipped around at record speed, his eyes enlarging and lips parting in disbelief and what Viktor assumed to be offence. But before the affronted male could respond to Viktor's slight teasing, the grin sported on the royal's features was replaced by a soft and hopeful smile, when he asked excitedly,

"Why don't we make it to the gardens together! You've captured my interest, Yuuri Katsuki, and I'd like to get to know you. And of course, thank you properly for stopping me before I walked into the guards. In return, I'll tell you a bit about myself, and I might just consider forgiving you for that stunt you pulled...

"...What do you say?"

---

...to be continued?

04.12.20 edit: just to avoid any confusion, i changed the arrangement of yuuris name from katsuki yuuri to yuuri katsuki for convenience purposes- so just bare that in mind if you're rereading this or likewise!

[the-local-oddity]

Can You See Me?

A short story for the Invisible!Snufkin au, I wrote this to get my thoughts and the basic story out. Ended up being longer then I thought it would. 

Side-note: I was listening to the 2019 soundtrack whiling I was writing this, and I finished the story right around the time the second verse of Ready Now finished.

Edit: oh hey, @toonbly I wrote about it.

The trail was long. Longer than it had ever been before. His legs didn't want to carry him any further, but he was still moving. Not of his own will mind you. His hand was being held and he was being led along that familiar trail.

His body was completely invisible. All that could be seen of him was his clothing. There was a time, long ago, when he was visible and happy, but now he was gone.

How long had it been since he was last in Moominvalley? He couldn't say. He had left for winter, as he always did, and never returned. He wanted to, he desperately wanted to, but he couldn't.

He was being held against his will, some orphanage had forcefully taken him in. Thinking they could make him into a normal child, they took his bag, dressed him in fancy clothes, and forced him to act out of his nature. He hated it, he acted out, but when he did he was punished. He couldn’t get dirty, he couldn't be alone, he couldn't play his harmonica, and he couldn't leave.

He hated it more than anything in the world. He was supposed to be their miracle case, but he eventually became their most difficult child.

His rescue was only good fortune. The man who was leading him along had heard some of the workers from the orphanage discussing him, and he didn't like what he heard. The second he had seen Snufkin, he adopted him without a second thought.

Snufkin was free. He was supposed to be free. Instead, he refused to leave that man's side.

They now sat in silence around his fire, he passed Snufkin his food and then went to silently eat. Snufkin only poked at his meal, his heart felt heavy. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to bear looking at the Moomins again, not after how long he'd been gone.

His mind began to race, he could see it now. Their angry glares as they stared him down, pointing away from the valley and telling him to leave and not come back. He could see Moomintroll crying and asking Snufkin why he broke his promise, why did he never come back?

Snufkin curled up on himself, his shoulders shook as he silently began to cry.

The man looked up at him and quietly sighed.

“You have a rough life, kiddo.” He sat down next to him, and rubbed his back, “But things will get easier from here on out. Trust me. Out here in the forest, no one's gonna stop you from doing anything. No one's gonna tell you to shut up or force you into crowds of people.” He didn't really know why Snufkin was crying, but he was trying to help him anyways, “Out here, you're truly free.”

“The forest belongs to everyone…” Snufkin’s voice was quiet when he spoke, but at least he spoke at all.

“That's right.” The man stood up, “No one tames the wild!” He laughed, “No one cages the forest, we're all people of the forest, but it's not our place to control it!”

Snufkin watched him carefully, he was marching around the camp in a rather goofy fashion, and he couldn't see it, but Snufkin was smiling.

“Especially not park keepers…” Snufkin added in a quiet voice, as he wiped his eyes.

“Especially not park keepers!” He pointed right at Snufkin when he said that and smiled big at him, “You've got a good head on your shoulders!”

He walked over and passed Snufkin his food again, “Now eat.”

Snufkin nodded and slowly began to eat, the happy man had been a good distraction, but his thoughts were still there. Unwilling to leave.

He watched the man throughout the night, keeping a careful eye on him at all times. Something felt oddly familiar about him. Eventually, he realized he had to ask him something.

“Sir, ” Snufkin handed him his empty bowl, “what is your name?”

“Call me Joxter, ” he took the bowl from his invisible hand and rinsed it in the stream, “it's what everyone calls me.”

“Okay.” He nodded carefully to himself, he then paused “You know Moominpapa?”

“Yeah, we were good friends way back when. He was pretty cool, but I haven't seen him in a pretty long time…” he shrugged, he stood up and stretched before walking back towards the tent, “But that’s not important right now, it's late and we have a long way to go. Let's get some rest.”

He held open the tent for Snufkin so he could crawl in, then followed him in after.

The next morning things started out fine, the morning went well. He was able to get Snufkin to play his harmonica and watched as his hands became visible again. Together they packed up the camp and started on their way, now with the accompaniment of harmonica music. It was seemingly going to be a good day.

Then the wind picked up. Joxter kept one firm hand on his hat, and the other one held onto Snufkin, who was holding his own hat.

The trees were bending in the wind ever so slightly, and leaves were being blown into their faces. The pair struggled to keep moving forward, but they had to find somewhere to get out of this wind.

When the wind suddenly came from behind, Snufkin stumbled forward, the grip on his hat loosed just enough that it was flung off his head in an instant. They both gasped and attempted to catch up to it, but it was far too late and the hat was carried far, far off in the distance.

Joxter looked back at Snufkin his hands had disappeared yet again…

The hat was carried far, finding itself nestled into a bush, surprisingly, the hat was very lucky to have flown where it did. As it, in that spot, it would be easy for any traveler to find it.

“Snufkin…” Too-Ticky looked down at the green hat, abandoned in the woods, she knew he would never throw it out, so he to be looking for it, so she picked it up and began looking for him. She searched the whole forest before concluding that he wasn't there.

“Suppose there's nothing else to do with this…” she held it tightly and headed for Moominhouse. She wasn't a negative person, but even she couldn't help but assume the worst.

When she handed the hat to Moomintroll, it was clear mind assumed the same thing. He ran to his bedroom, taking the hat with him, as he cried. Her parents watched him with sorrowful looks.

“The poor dear, ” Moominmama sighed as she slowly turned to look at Too-Ticky again, “do you suppose there's a chance he's okay?”

“Of course, ” Too-Ticky was still looking in Moomintroll's direction, “he's Snufkin after all. I'll bet he's on his way right now.” She smiled and nodded, looking very sure of herself.

“Knowing how his father is, then I'm sure he'll be quite alright,” Moominpapa added on for Too-Ticky, “he's gotten out of several tough scrapes, and whatever's going on now is no different.”

“You're right.” Moominmama smiled peacefully to herself and gazed out the window to where Snufkin used to camp, “Until he's safe, we'll keep waiting for him. He'll always be welcome back.”

When would they see Snufkin again? Not for several days. Then again, it's not like they'd actually see him, more like they would see his vague shape.

Little My marched towards Moominhouse on a very calm morning, nothing special was really happening. But she had ideas for mischief.

“Good morning, Little Miss.” A man nodded at her as he walked passed, he was holding the hand of an invisible child.

“Not this again…” she grumbled and kept walking, soon realizing they were going the same way. She hummed to herself and decided to strike up some conversation, “So, where you two from?”

“Nowhere. We're travelers.” He didn't look back at her, and the invisible child pressed closer to him.

“Where are you going?” She asked and stepped closer, wondering if she'd have to rescue this kid from him.

“To see some old friends of mine.” he motioned at Moominhouse, then glanced back at her, “You’re a Mymble kid aren't you?”

“How'd you know?” She asked in an almost sarcastic tone.

“I dated your mother once.” He subtly motioned back to his invisible child, “Nothing special.”

“Huh?” Little My stopped and watched them walk, she suddenly no longer felt the need to talk to them. But the more she etched the invisible child, the more she realized why his clothing was familiar, “Snufkin?!” She shouted.

When she did the pair began to hurry away from her, rushing towards Moominhouse as quick as they could. She started after them, she didn't run, she walked, knowing they'd end up in the same place.

At first, they were going strong, in fact, they got pretty close to the house, but the second they reached the bridge Snufkin stopped and refused to go any further. He took a step back from the bridge, his eyes looking up to Moomin's room, not that anyone could tell.

“Don't worry, the Moomins are good people they can help us.” Joxter patted his shoulder kindly, “Come on!”

“He knows that.” Little My walked up to them, she was grinning evilly, “Don't you, Snufkin?”

Snufkin stepped away from her, backing up into the Joxter, who then hugged him close.

“I don't know what you're planning Little My, but cut it out.” Joxter hissed at her.

“I knew it was you Joxter!” She ran past them, calling out to the Moomins telling them to come outside and see what was going on.

Joxter turned to face the house, Snufkin stepped behind his back, afraid of being seen. The moomins stepped out of the house, all of them except for Moomintroll. Which Snufkin noted when he poked his head out from behind the Joxter.

“My goodness, Joxter!” Moominpapa hurried over to him, “It has been some time, hasn't it?”

“Yes, ” Joxer shook his hand happily, “it's been far too long Moomin!”

“Oh, Joxter, we have some unfortunate news…” Moominmama walked over and gently took his hands, “Your son, Snufkin, he's-”

“Right here with me!” Joxter smiled proudly, the Moomin parents looked at each other oddly, then looked back at him, “I suppose you can't really see him, huh?” He laughed just a little bit, “He was a lot easier to see before he lost his hat.” Then the Joxter took off his own hat and plopped it onto what seemed like thin air when it didn't hit the ground they gasped.

They heard a quiet yet familiar voice from behind him “Son…?”

“Oh Snufkin, ” Moominmama coveted her mouth, “is that really you?”

The hat tilted upwards as he looked up at the Joxter then back to her, with shaking legs he stepped out from behind the Joxter, showing his familiar clothing yet invisible hands and face. They couldn't see it but his fists were clenched in fear, waiting to be yelled at for being so late.

Instead, she took his hands and pulled him into the biggest hug, “We were so worried!” She held back her tears as she squeezed him, “We thought something terrible had happened!”

“What a fantastic day this is!” Moominpapa laughed, “Both of you back on the same day! How lucky!” He jumped into the hug too, the pair squeezed Snufkin tightly, then lead him to the house. Saying they were going to give him food and deserts until he couldn't eat anymore.

“Moomintroll! Come downstairs! It's important!” Moominmama called out to her son, who sat in his room sadly, trying to move on from his dear friend.

They hand pulled Snufkin into the dining room and sat him down quickly, serving him pancakes and juice. Joxter leaned against the wall and politely declined food. None of them brought up his invisibility, Little My instead chose to poorly summarize everything that had happened since he left.

“Sniff is still a coward though, so that hasn't changed.” She shrugged and stole a bite from his pancakes, he didn't stop her.

Moomintroll began making his way downstairs, still holding Snufkin's hat, he hadn't wanted to let it go since he was given it. He could hear laughter from the dining room, but he really didn’t feel like being around people.

“This must be how Snufkin used to feel…” He managed a small smile, before turning around to go back upstairs.

Snufkin caught sight of just a little of him, and he watched him disappear from view again. He rubbed his hands and glanced around the room, where everyone was talking. Then looked back to where Moomintroll was, he sighed to himself and slipped out of the room. No one noticed.

He went to the bridge outside, where Moomin used to wait, then turned to face Moomins room. He held his harmonica tightly and took a deep breath, trying to think of Moomintroll's favorite song, before playing.

The music started, the whole house fell quiet. They listened and watched each other. Trying to silently figure out what would happen next. Moomintroll ignored it at first thinking it was just a memory, then the song began to change, it faded into a new one, one none of them had ever heard. He sat up and looked out his window and when he saw the figure, he didn't need to see his face.

“Snufkin!” He screamed grabbing the hat he raced down his ladder and towards his dear, moving faster than he ever did, “You're home!” He cried and leaped onto Snufkin who accepted it with joy.

‘You're home.” Snufkin thought about what Moomintroll said, he smiled brightly, that's right. He was home. This was his home. No matter where the went, Moominvalley was home, and he liked that thought.

“I missed you Moomin, more than anything in the whole world.” He didn’t stop hugging Moomintroll, but he did feel something be placed on his head, which made him pull back a little to investigate.

“There, ” Moomintroll said after placing the hat right back on Snufkin's head, “now you look like yourself!”

Snufkin smiled at Moomintroll, even though he couldn't see it, Moomintroll knew it was there.

“We have a lot of time to make up for,” he hugged Snufkin again, who seemed very happy to be hugging again, “but that's alright because it doesn't matter how long you take, as long as come home, I'll always be happy!”

Snufkin's shoulders began to shake, and Moomintroll could feel the fur on his own shoulders getting wet, but he didn't say anything, he just rubbed his back and quietly reassured him.

“He'll be okay now.” The Joxter watched them from the window for a little bit before turning the other adults, “I knew I outta bring him to you.”

“He's not the first invisible child we've helped,” Moominmama said with a bit of fondness in her voice.

“Indeed, ” Moominpapa adjusted his hat, before looking at the Joxter nervously, “Whatever happened to him, my friend? It's just so surprising to see him like this.”

“Not my story to tell, ” the Joxter shook his head, “He'll tell you when and if he's ready.” He then yawned and took a seat on their couch, making himself comfortable before falling asleep.

“Yes, I suppose that's…” Moominpappa trailed off when he reached the Joxter had fallen asleep, then he only glared at him.

Little My hurried from the house, Sniff followed behind her, they ran to Snufkin and Moomintroll and began to excitedly talk to them. Snufkin was pulled to his feet and the group hurried to find Snorkmadien, who happily made him a flower crown when she saw him again.

The entire group spent the entire day playing and catching Snufkin up on everything he had missed, and as the sun began to set, they sat in the grass in front of Moominhouse, slowly falling sleeping on each other with Snufkin right in the middle.

Moomintroll watched him with sleepy eyes, that had trouble staying open for long.

“Moomin?” Snufkin said in a voice meant only for him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you… for not forgetting me.” He leaned his nose so it pressed against Moomintroll's and watched his blue eyes as the began to shut again, “I… I'm sorry it took me so long.”

“Don't worry…” Moomintroll did everything in his power to keep his eyes open, “As long as your back with me, I'll always be happy to see you…” the last thing Moomintroll saw before he drifted into sleep when Snufkin's smiling face.

[therealcalicali]

“Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 9

IMAGINE: TELLING YOUR HUSBAND IVAR, THAT YOU HAVE BEEN SLEEPING WITH ANOTHER MAN, AND IT’S DEEPER THAN JUST SEX.

Read Part 1 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 1

Read Part 2 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 2

Read Part 3 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 3

Read Part 4 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 4

Read Part 5 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 5

Read Part 6 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 6

Read Part 7 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 7

Read Part 8 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 8 

Read the Finale Chapter 1 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.”

Read the Finale Chapter 2 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.”

Read the Finale Chapter 3 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.”

PART 9 WARNINGS: Angst, Intrigue, Marital Strife

Word Count: 12,764

____________________________________

As you slept peacefully with the help of the tincture administered by the Healer, an elated Ivar entered the passageway. There, he found his brothers and the main servants eagerly awaiting him.

"Well, what is it?" Hvitserk asked, annoyed at his little brother's silence.

He was worried sick and it didn't help that Ivar seemed intent on making them beg for information.

"There is no need to be distressed." Ivar smugly replied. "I will tell you everything in a moment."

With that, he glanced at the servants and ordered them to return to their duties. Even Adelaide. Naturally, the Head Domestic was taken aback by the command but did as asked. When he was certain the Thralls were out of earshot, your husband proudly announced that he was to be a father again.

Ubbe, Bjorn and Hvitserk could not believe their ears. Like Ivar, they were shocked that he had managed to become a father at all. But now, that you were with child yet again, they began to question all they had believed about their little brother. The things the female Thralls had told them about his inability to "perform" now held no weight.

As for Ivar, he wanted to gloat further, but the looks on his brothers faces was victory enough. After all their taunting and gossiping, he had won. He would now tie Bjorn in the number of offspring and add more. Ivar had always desired a large brood to leave his legacy to, and now, he was well on his way.

"I can see that you are all overcome." Ivar said with deep satisfaction. The jubilation he felt from rubbing their faces in the announcement was palatable. "I shall take the silence as a sign that you are all overjoyed for Y/N and I. Now, if you will excuse me, I must tend to my wife."

When Ivar reentered your chamber and closed the door behind him, Bjorn became livid. Though the most reserved of the Ragnarssons, he was still the eldest. Thus, he took exception to Ivar’s obvious disregard for the rules.

Glaring at his brothers, Bjorn stated that he wanted him returned to the cells immediately. Especially since your "illness" had now been identified. However, before he could call for the guards, Ubbe informed him that he didn’t agree. In fact, he added that he didn’t see the issue with Ivar being at your side.

"Let us not punish Y/N for his mistakes." Ubbe concluded. 

"But he killed Sigurd. Or have you forgotten that already?" Bjorn asked with eyes wide.

"Of course I have not forgotten. But the trial is tomorrow." A thoughtful Ubbe replied. "So what harm is there in him spending time with his wife? As fathers, we both know how stressful things are for a woman in that condition."

"Fine. But I am telling you, he has learned nothing." 

Without another word, a frustrated Bjorn walked away. He couldn’t understand Ivar’s ability to garner mercy even when it wasn’t deserved. Though he tried to shake the thought, in his heart, Bjorn knew that his little brother would not pay for his crime. Like it or not, it appeared that the Gods favored Ivar.

The signs just couldn’t be ignored. For that reason,Bjorn resigned himself to leave Kattegat as planned once the trial concluded. He refused to be around when Ivar the Boneless was unleashed again.

________________________

"Ivar?" You mumbled as you noticed him asleep beside you.

Sitting up, you could still feel the effects of the tincture. For that reason, you were unsure if you were dreaming or not. He was supposed to be in the cells, wasn't he? 

Ever the light sleeper, your husband's eyes promptly opened and his hand instinctively went under his pillow. It was where he kept an axe, despite all your protests.

"Y/N…what is it?" Ivar asked with concern as he sat up. Holding the weapon’s handle firmly, he eyed the chamber door. "Did you hear something?"

"No. I just did not expect to see you here."

Relieved that there was no danger to you or Dahlia, Ivar set the axe back in its place. After laying back down, he motioned for you to come closer. As you did so, he brought you against his body, resting your head upon his chest.

"You do not know how happy you have made me." He declared as he ran his fingertips along your arm.

"Me?"

"Of course, woman. Are you not with child?"

"Oh." You replied with some displeasure. "I explicitly told the Healer that I wanted to give you the news myself."

"Either way, my heart is full." Ivar said before bringing your hand to his lips. After kissing your palm, he apologized for the man not heeding your request. "Perhaps it was because you were asleep by the time I was called."

Before you could reply, your mind went to Dahlia. The last you saw of your daughter, the wet-nurse was feeding her in your chamber. Immediately, you sat up - heart racing.

"The baby." You exclaimed.

"Calm yourself, Y/N. She is in her cradle."  

You felt a wave of relief as you laid back down. As he held you again, Ivar stated that he was glad that you also saw the need to keep Dahlia close. After all, he was no fool. He knew that there were people who wouldn't mind hurting her just to send him a message.

For that reason, your husband had employed his own countermeasures. 

Ivar had numerous spies masquerading as Thralls. All of them courtesy of his loyal friend, King Harald. Furthermore, he was using his "flirtations" with Messilla to mask his real reason for keeping her near. Whom better to uncover things for him than your shy personal attendant? No one would ever suspect that the pretty Thrall was Ivar's eyes and ears. Not even you.

Caressing your back, he admitted that there was much to discuss, but it could wait until after the trial.

"After the trial." You thought.

The words echoed in your mind, nearly causing you to burst into tears. The sleep concoction had eased your mind temporarily, but now, reality had returned. Hvitserk and Ubbe wanted you to bear witness against Ivar, and King Solmund expected you to do far worse.

"Ivar…………"

"Yes, love?"

"Never mind. It is nothing." You replied, too afraid to lay your heart bare.

"Are you certain?" He asked tenderly. Ivar then brought your face up gently with his rough hand. Looking straight in your eyes, he studied your countenance, almost as if he could see the fear that raged within you. "Y/N, you know that you can tell me anything. I am your husband after all."

"I know. It……it is nothing important. Just nerves about tomorrow, I suppose."

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure." You lied – hoping your facial expression didn't betray you.

In all honesty, you wanted desperately to tell Ivar everything. But what if revealing the plots against him only made things worse? Your husband was clever, however, he had the habit of losing his temper. If you divulged all, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't make things worse.

"God, help me. I do not know what to do anymore." You prayed silently.

_________________________

Unable to find any peace, you awakened in the middle of the night. Though you tried, you just couldn't shake the ominous feeling that hung in the air. Either way, the trial was going to put you at odds with someone.

If you sided with Ivar, Hvitserk and Ubbe were sure to be upset. After all, they had plans on ruling Kattegat without their little brother's interference. And why wouldn't they? With Bjorn no longer interested in anything there, they would be able to do as they pleased. Most importantly, they wouldn't have to placate or bend to Ivar’s ego ever again.

Then, there was King Solmund - Sven's father. He and Jarls Borg and Øysten would be furious if you didn't side with Ivar. 

“I need to clear my head.” You thought as you got out of bed.

Desiring fresh air, you put on your boots and grabbed a cloak - tying it about your shoulders.

You then walked over to the cradle and caressed Dahlia's cheek as she slept. Looking at your daughter, you nearly sighed when you noticed her thumb stuck in her mouth. It was another new habit that you didn't care for. 

However, as always, Ivar encouraged it. As long as it made his baby happy, he could care less about your complaints.

After fixing her furs, you walked to where your husband slept peacefully. It was obvious that he had been completely exhausted. Which of course, was not surprising. Despite his high spirits, you doubted that he got much sleep in the cells. As you were fixing his furs, Ivar’s eyes fluttered open.

"Where are you going?" He asked groggily - noticing your cloak.

"I am going to the gardens for fresh air."

"Let me come with you."

"No. Just go back to sleep." You insisted. "I will not be gone for long."

Ivar stared at you a short while before asserting that he didn’t like the idea. However, he recalled that you often went for walks when carrying Dahlia. So, he relented. But before you could depart the bedside, he grabbed hold of your wrist.

"I will come and find you if you do not return soon." A tired Ivar declared.

"There is no need. Besides, your men are posted everywhere."

"Y/N, I will never leave your safety or that of our children to others." He replied before placing his hand upon your belly. "You are my responsibility and I will never take that lightly. Do you understand?"

You nodded before laying your hand on top of his. Satisfied that you appreciated his concern, Ivar laid back down as you left the chamber.

_________________________

In the gardens, you sat down, practically on the verge of tears. You were with child and that typically meant joy all around. However, it only complicated your dire situation. The only thing you could think of was the safety of Dahlia and your unborn child.

As you sat contemplating things, Torvi's warning echoed in your mind. She had not minced her words when she stated there were people who would do anything to hurt Ivar. After all, he appeared to be the strongest of the Ragnarssons. Not even Bjorn Ironside commanded the following that he did. 

Thus, any weakness they could find, they would most certainly seize upon it. That of course being you and your children.

"Princess, why do you weep?"

Stunned to realize you were not alone, you looked up to see a worried Sven staring at you.

"I...........it is nothing. Please, do not concern yourself."

Though he hardly believed you, the Prince didn't push further. Instead, he informed you that he had just returned from the Ragnarsson’s training grounds and was unable to sleep.

"But I suppose that makes two of us." He said lightheartedly in an attempt to lift your spirits. "I get these restless spells from time to time. Perhaps it means I am half owl."

When your expression didn't change, he became concerned again.

"Princess, I know this may be bold of me….." He said in a hushed tone. "but tell me why you are so troubled. As a man of my word, I will do my best to help you."

"And why should I?" You asked skeptically. “Pardon my bluntness, but I have absolutely no reason to trust you.”

It wasn't your intention to be impolite to the Prince, however, he was the son of the man you now feared. King Solmund had proven himself to be treacherous and for that reason, you didn't know how to feel about Sven anymore. As for the Prince himself, though taken aback by your harsh tone, he remained serene.

"I know there is allot on your mind right now. But despite what you may believe, you and I share a great deal in common." He replied.

"Sven, please. You have been beyond kind and I think you are a good man. However, I prefer that you leave me to my thoughts."

"No!"

You were surprised by his reply but he appeared determined to remain where he was.

"Fine. If you will not leave, then I shall go."

"Please stay, I beg of you." An exasperated Sven implored. "All I am asking for is a few minutes of your time. Nothing more."

"Why should I listen to anything you have to say? I hardly know you."

"As if how long you have known me infers anything. Tell me, the people you have known for much longer, how do they seem now? Personally, I think all of them are showing their true colors."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Believe me, the opportunity to gain power always reveals the worst in people."

You wanted to deny what he had said but you couldn't. Sven was right. Everyone was acting quite strange. Even sweet Hvitserk, whom you never thought was that ambitious. Giving in, you informed the Prince that you would allow him to speak his mind. The one condition however was that you didn't need to respond, either way.

"Tell me, do you not wonder why I have been so drawn to you?" Sven asked, causing you to give him a peculiar look.

But it was a good question. He had been attentive from the very first time you met. When you shrugged, he smirked.

"You remind me so much..............” He added as if hurt physically to utter the words. “of someone dear to my heart."

"What does that have to do with anything? You asked with disinterest.

Undeterred, Sven paced a moment before glancing at you again.

"You promised that you would hear what I had to say. So I ask that you allow me to finish." He replied. "As I was saying, from the moment I saw you, you reminded me of someone." Sven then inhaled and let out his breath nervously. "My wife."

"Wife?" You thought to yourself.

That was the last thing you expected him to say. Sister or Cousin, yes. But not a Wife. From all you had heard, the Prince was unattached. Not to mention he flirted with maidens, including Jarl Holmfast's daughter.

"Asfrid was so much like you.” He added with a weak smile. “You should have seen her. I swear, she had a presence larger than her small frame. I  think that you would have liked one another."

"Where is she now?" You asked cautiously.

"In Valhalla . Along with our son."

You could see the heartache in Sven’s eyes despite him remaining stoic. There was a brief silence since you didn't know what to say. How does one continue a conversation after such a revelation?

"You need not feel sorry for me." Sven said – noticing your expression. "It has been some years now so I have done all my grieving."

"If I am being too forward, do let me know. But can you tell me what happened to them?"

"They died during one of the battles over the disputed lands."

Your heart sank. Not because you thought it was directly Ivar’s fault that his family had perished. But you knew it meant that the Prince surely held a grudge. It could also mean that he was going along with his father's plots.

"Is that why you befriended me?" You asked with disappointment. "So you can use me to get your vengeance?"

"What?"

"Sven, do not insult my intelligence. You must know that your father wants me to kill Ivar." You furiously replied. 

"I will not lie to you. I am aware of the scheme but I had no hand in planning it."

"So, what is your role then? To use our “friendship” to convince me to listen to your father?

To your surprise, Sven looked wounded by the accusation. He shook his head in disbelief as he gazed at you, almost unable to speak.

"Princess, I do not blame you for thinking the worst of me. But I will say this, I may be King Solmund's blood but I am nothing like my father." He replied. "To be honest, I have been waiting for the chance to ask for the vial."

"This is some type of trick.” You said. “If I hand the vial over, you will just report that I will not comply. That would put me and my daughter in danger."

"Stop with these accusations and listen." Sven pleaded as he looked at you. He was quite frustrated and for the first time, you saw emotion upon his face. "If Ivar dies, my father will surely invade his settlements. He wants it all. Honestly, he hated the idea of sharing even when King Ragnar was alive. I may be a warrior but I grow tired of killing at my father's behest."

"Why should I believe that you are against your father? He is your blood, regardless of how awful he may be."

"Because………." Sven said, eyes glistening with tears. "Ivar did not kill my younger brother Tormund. My father did."

Your eyes went wide as you stared at him. If he hadn't appeared so broken, you wouldn't have believed your ears. You recalled Ivar mentioning a great battle with Tormund's battalion right before King Solmund surrendered the lands.

In fact, Sigurd had told you that despite the treaties, the King held a grudge for the death of his son. 

"But, I do not understand. From what Sigurd told me, everyone believes Ivar killed him."

"Well he did not. Though your husband is unbothered by the lie, I know the truth. "

"How are you certain?" You asked.

Walking closer, the Prince knelt before you.

"My ships faced severe weather, for that reason, my men were too late to be of help. However, as my men searched amongst the dead for survivors, they miraculously discovered Tormund. He was between life and death. Upon taking him to my tent, it was quite apparent that he would not last long. Thus, I resigned myself to be at his side." Sven paused a moment. "Remarkably, his eyes opened and he called my name. As I held his hand and confirmed that I was truly there, his exact words were "Father cut me down. Our own father turned his sword on me. Do not trust him, ever."

The Prince then added that his brother held on long enough for him to ask a few questions. The most important of course, being why would their father do such a thing.

"Princess, my brother was a man of honor. So he did not agree with father's decision to seize the disputed lands after Ragnar's death. And he was quite vocal about it. Obviously, this caused a rift between them. Still, duty compelled Tormund to fight Ivar's men when they came to reclaim the territories."

"It sounds like he wanted a peaceful resolution."

"He did, but father never regarded his wisdom." Sven agreed. "It is why my brother had the hearts of our people. Both in our Kingdom and the settlements. Father grew resentful, but I never realized how much. Thus, he seized the chance to rid himself of the son he feared would replace him."

"Sven, I am speechless." You confessed.

"Now, that I have unburdened my soul, I hope you longer think ill of me."

"I do not even know where to start. Forgive me for misjudging you."

"There is no need to ask for forgiveness." The Prince replied lightheartedly. "It only proves you are as prudent as I have believed you to be."

"But, what do I do now? Your father expects me to act after Ivar's trial. If I do nothing, he will surely send men to silence me."

"Do you trust me, Y/N?" Sven asked, looking you deep in the eyes.

You nodded as he glanced around the gardens again. Satisfied that you were alone, he instructed you to give him the vial of poison when possible. With that, Sven instructed you to return to your chamber. But he added that you had to slap him first. When you asked why you should do such a thing, he laughed. 

Wisely, the Prince stated that he wanted it to appear as if he had been trying to seduce you the entire time.

"You never know who may be watching from their window." He said with a smile. "Now, Princess, please make it worthwhile."

Getting to your feet, you walked over to Sven and mentally prepared to strike him. After all, it was not something you were accustomed to doing.

"What is taking so long?" He taunted. "Are you scared to hurt your wrist?"

Annoyed, you let your hand fly, striking him much harder than you had intended. However, your violent slap amused the Prince. To your annoyance, he smiled as he rubbed his cheek that had turned a bright red. As you left the gardens, Sven watched you with pure admiration in his eyes.

___________________

Back in your chamber, you entered to find that your husband and daughter were both still fast asleep. After removing your cloak and boots, you got into bed, however, you didn't lay down. Instead you looked at Ivar, contemplating what to do. There was great turmoil within your heart as you debated whether or not to reveal the plot against him. 

For whatever reason, something kept compelling you to reveal the truth. The sooner the better. Despite Sven having a plan of his own, you didn't feel right hiding things from Ivar any longer.

"Y/N, are you alright?" He suddenly asked as his eyes fluttered open.

Ever the light sleeper, Ivar had sensed your presence in the chamber.

"Not really."

He gave you peculiar look as he studied your expression. Though you hadn't noticed, you were twisting the fine hairs of the furs nervously.

"Y/N, look at me." He said sincerely. "There is no need so suffer in silence. As your husband, it is my duty to do everything within my power to help you."

Though he sounded sincere, you knew Ivar was a force of nature. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t lose his senses once you told him of King Solmund’s plan. So, you took a deep breath and mentally prepared for the worst.

"What I am about to reveal is sure to enrage you. For that reason, I need you to promise that you will not do anything hasty."

"You know very well that I cannot promise such a thing."

You sighed and informed Ivar that if he couldn't do that one thing, you would keep your thoughts to yourself. Of course, that displeased him because he wanted to hear what you had to say. Especially now that you were with child again. The last thing he wanted was for you to be under stress for any reason.

"Fine." Ivar reluctantly said. "If it will make you happy, I promise to control my temper. Now, can you please tell me what is troubling your mind?"

"I am serious, Ivar. You must make this promise on your honor as the son of Ragnar. I am trusting you to keep your word.

Though he glared at you momentarily, he reaffirmed the promise as a Ragnarsson. Satisfied, you looked at the fireplace as you composed yourself.

"Well, I am waiting." Ivar demanded.

Though it wasn't obvious, he was troubled. The last time the two of you had a serious discussion, you told him that you were in love with another. Despite Herry being deceased, it didn't mean you couldn't have similar news. Numerous scenarios raced through Ivar's mind until his anger began to rise.

"Y/N!" He seethed, unable to take the suspense any longer. "Speak!"

"Ivar, you were so right about King Solmund. He is a dangerous man."

Your husband practically let out a sigh of relief. All the dire assumptions vanished from his mind as he gazed at you. Whatever you were going to say, he could at least take comfort that it had nothing to do with a lover.

"Go on." Ivar persuaded, giving you his undivided attention.

"He asked me to do something."

As your voice wavered, he eyed you with suspicion. He wasn't sure what you were alluding to. But for the King's sake, Ivar hoped the man had not tried to bed you. Regardless of what he had promised, it was one thing he wouldn't take lightly.

"Y/N, your silence is not helping. Just tell me what it is."

"He……………he asked me to kill you."

"What?" A dumbfounded Ivar asked as he finally sat up.

The words hit him harder than when he had heard of Aslaug’s death. He couldn't believe what had come from your lips. For a long while, your husband could only stare at you. Not in anger but deep anguish.

"For whatever reason, he said that you are a common enemy." You continued. "I assume he has heard the many whispers about our relationship."

Sensibly, Ivar recognized that people did gossip about your dysfunctional marriage. But for King Solmund to use it as a tool to entice you to murder, shook him to his core.

"So, how was it supposed to play out?"

"He provided a poison." You anxiously replied. "I was to pour it in your ear as you slept."

Even in the dimly lit chamber, you could see Ivar’s eyes glistening. There was no doubt that your revelation had shocked and enraged him. As the tears began to well, he stared at you - speechless.

“Please, say something.” You pleaded as you clutched the furs. He was truly making you regret listening your instincts. But you couldn’t hide such a massive secret any longer. Especially if things went awry. He had to be in the know in order to make a contingency plan. “Ivar?”

“Did you consider following through?” He finally asked with deep hurt upon his face.

“Of course not! That is why I am telling you everything.”

“I will not get angry if you tell me the truth. After all, I know you hate me.”

For the first time since you had been with Ivar, he was vulnerable. Even his body language that was typically imposing, revealed a broken man. Yes, he had been your tormentor and done vindictive things to break your spirit. Yet, there was no doubt that you held a power over him unlike anyone else.

“I do not hate you.” You replied. “It is true that you have been unkind, but I am a Christian. I am compelled to forgive.”

“Y/N, I do not care for your Christianity!” Ivar said with exasperation. “I want your heart, not your pity. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you never considered using the poison.”

You looked him straight in the eyes as he had asked. Hoping it would help calm his emotional state.

“Though you have mistreated me and we have been at odds, I do not wish you harm. Besides, you are the father of my children.”

“I will take you at your word. But let me say this. I know I am not the man you wanted.........”

“Ivar, th—–”

“Y/N, please allow me finish.” He interrupted. “I make mistakes and do things that even I cannot explain. But I need you to know one thing for certain. I love you.”

Looking at him, you could practically feel his pain. In spite of everything, his raw show of emotion had touched your heart. Before you could speak again, Ivar rested his head on your shoulder. Again, he professed his love and added that you didn't need to reciprocate.

"I am sorry that I did not tell you straightaway." You admitted as you stroked his neck. "To be quite honest, I was confused and afraid."

"The fact that you told me is all that matters."

When he lifted his head, you ran a hand over his plaited hair reassuringly.

"Fortunately, I believe things will work out without your interference. I spoke with Prince Sven and he revealed that he already has plans for his father."

Instantly, Ivar's eyes fell upon you and he didn't look pleased.

"Sven?" He repeated. "Of all the people to trust, King Solmund's own blood is the last."

"And that is how I felt initially. But trust me, Ivar, there is more to him than you think. He is nothing like King Solmund."

Your husband scoffed. But unlike other times when he disagreed with something you had said, he remained composed.

"Y/N, you know that I do not give my trust easily. Whether blood or otherwise. So tell me, why do you feel that the Prince is worth yours."

You were grateful that Ivar hadn't resorted to shouting or putting you down. Normally, that is how all your conversations went. But this time around, he was actually interested in what you had to say.

"I know it sounds absurd, but I do not think Sven likes the way King Solmund operates. Not only did he tell me not to listen to his father, but he also revealed something about you."

"About me?" Ivar asked with curiosity. "What?"

"That you did not kill his brother. He said that though mortally wounded, Tormund lived long enough to give last words. He told Sven that their own father had cut him down."

"Well, at least someone knows the truth." A apathetic Ivar replied.

"But I do not understand. Why have you allowed King Solmund to go around spreading lies about you?" You asked with great confusion. "Sigurd said that you supposedly killed Tormund after he and his men had surrendered. Why allow people to think you did something so dishonorable?

"Because."

Though you waited, Ivar didn't add anything further. Instead, he laid down and stared at the ceiling.

"Because what?" You asked. "Please, I really want to know."

"Y/N, is it not obvious?" He replied reluctantly. "People already believe worse about me. There are even those that say Aslaug was cursed, that is why she birthed a half serpent child. So what is the point of fighting their prejudice? I am not a perfect man, but if they wish to think I am a monster, so be it."

You hadn't considered the fact that people did gossip a great deal about Ivar. Even when you were a Thrall in Bjorn's home, you heard countless whispers about "The Cripple". It couldn't be easy to live life continually being mocked for an infirmity.

"But that is no way to live, Ivar. I refuse to believe that you like people making such assumptions." You said. "Why give in so easily?"

"It is far from giving in. It is merely allowing them to think what they wish. If people want to believe every tale they hear about me, let them. I will never beg to be understood."

"So you do not care how people see you? Even a little?"

"No." He replied confidently. His sorrow had lifted and he was now contemplative. "Let them create whatever version of me that pleases them. Besides, any man that cares about the opinion of others will never be happy. And I prefer to be happy."

Everyone knew Ivar was a masterful tactician but who knew that he was also quite philosophical. Curious, you observed him a moment before asking if he was indeed a happy man.

"Of course I am." Ivar said before he stopped gazing at the ceiling. He then gave you his full attention. Putting an arm about you, he stroked the small of your back in circular motions. "When my mother was killed, I never thought I would find peace. Every day I woke up with a great tightness in my chest. As if a storm was raging deep inside. But then came the day I saw you. It was like finding something I did not know I was searching for. So yes, I am very happy, Y/N."

You could only stare at him. Your husband was showing a side of himself you had never seen before. Not only was he being soft-spoken but he was revealing personal thoughts. In nearly three years of marriage, you couldn't remember sharing such a moment.

"Ivar, it is not wise to find your joy in other people." You said as he brought his face closer to yours. "My father; rest his soul; believed such a thing was the path to sorrow and disappointment."

"Perhaps. But I have never been good on my own. When I had my mother, all seemed right with the world. In spite of everything, she made me feel that I was truly loved." He confessed, almost as if he was reminiscing. "She loved me unconditionally. So when she died, it was as if she took everything good with her. Despite the presence of my brothers, I felt………………..alone. Floki was my only saving grace. But then, you came along. So you see, I cannot help finding my joy in you."

"Did you not hear what I just----------"

Putting his finger to your lips, Ivar gazed at you - his intense eyes studying your every feature.

"Y/N, I choose to feel as I do. If I am gravely wounded for that in the end, so be it."

With that, Ivar pressed his lips to yours tenderly. As he pulled back, he  affectionately caressed your cheek, feeling more assured about your marriage than he had in some time. 

_______________________

In the morning, Ivar was the first to awaken. Quietly, he lifted himself utilizing the leather and chain strap he had installed over the bed. After putting his leg bracers on, he rang the bell for the servants. 

As the women busied themselves selecting his clothes for the day, one asked if they should wake you as well. To the shock of all the Thralls present, he nearly threw the horn of ale he was drinking.

"Are you mad?" He hissed. "Can you not see that my wife is exhausted? Now go and have them prepare my bath before I have you flogged."

Before the three frightened women departed, he called one back to the chamber.

"Yes, Master."

"Fetch Messilla. And tell her to come straightaway. I have a very tight schedule and cannot be kept waiting."

"Of course, my Prince."

With that, the woman hastily left to go and fetch the newest Thrall. Optimistic about the day going well, he walked to the cradle and gazed at Dahlia. The baby had apparently been awake for some time, entertaining herself. She was happily babbling away until she saw Ivar’ face. Instantly, she gave him an adorable smile as she reached up for him.

"Are you happy to see me, my love?" Ivar sweetly asked as he placed his finger in her grasp. To say that he was enamored with his daughter would have been an understatement. Every time he beheld Dahlia, he couldn't believe she was real. Taking a seat in the chair beside the cradle, he placed the crutch down and picked her up. "You are going to spend the morning with me so mother can rest.”

As he brought her in for a kiss, Dahlia excitedly held his face with her plump fingers. It was a little game they played now that she was bigger. As Ivar kept lifting her in the air and bringing her down for kisses, he tried to get her to repeat words.

"Say, fa-th-er." He coaxed before nibbling her cheek playfully.

He did so a few times more which only seemed to amuse Dahlia. Every time he said the word, she squealed and became livelier. Knowing that repetition was the only way to get babies to talk, Ivar kept the game going.

"Fa?" She unexpectedly babbled.

His eyes lit up with elation as Dahlia kept repeating herself. Glancing over at your sleeping form, Ivar contemplated whether or not to wake you. However, despite wanting to share his the news of your daughter’s first word, he quickly decided against it.

"We will tell her later." He cooed as Dahlia stared at him attentively - almost as if she understood his words. "Do you know you will be an elder sister soon? Yes, you will. That means we have to take good care of mother so she and the baby stay healthy. She will need lots of rest."

To Ivar's amusement, Dahlia began babbling excitedly as if she was challenging his assertion. As he continued playing with her, a knock came upon the door. When he asked who it was, the Thrall he had sent to fetch your personal attendant nervously replied.

"My Prince, I have brought Messilla as you instructed."

"Let her in."

The door opened slowly and in walked the tense Gaul. She had been asleep when the Thrall had burst into her chamber instructing her to make haste. For that reason, Messilla only had time to throw a robe over her night dress.

"Master, what do you require?"

Without taking his eyes off Dahlia, Ivar informed her that it was to be a long day. And since he wanted you to rest before the trial, she was to take the baby to be fed and bathed.

"When the wet-nurse is done, you shall mind the baby."

"Of course."

Timidly, Messilla walked to where Ivar sat and took Dahlia into her arms. Though she didn't cry, the baby did begin to whine.

"What has father told you about crying? Hmm?"

Running his hand over Dahlia's head, Ivar comforted her affectionately before glancing at the Thrall.

"She is likely quite hungry so you may go. But remember…….." He said before dropping his voice to a whisper. "do as I have instructed."

"Of course, Master."

______________________

As he ate first meal in the privacy of the Study, Ivar asked one of the servants to fetch Messilla. After all, he had to keep up the pretense of favoring the Gaul. Not long after, one of the Thralls returned with the lovely Gaul in tow. 

Though she still found it awkward, Messilla had donned one of the costly dresses Ivar had gifted her. 

This of course was causing great chatter amongst the other Thralls. It was bad enough that the new arrival had her own chamber within the estate. But the fact that she was also being dressed lavishly by Ivar was not doing her any favors. Most of the female Thralls were growing to hate the young woman. 

In fact, whenever Messilla was around them, they went out of their way to be rude or curt.

Fortunately, they didn't go too far with their disdain. They may have been envious, but the last thing they wanted was for the young Ragnarsson to hear of her mistreatment.

"I am so glad you called for me, Master." Messilla informed Ivar as she took at seat. She then began to gently rock Dahlia in an attempt sooth her. "I have not been able to calm the baby since her feeding. Mistress told me that she is cutting teeth so I went to get advice from the wet-nurse. However, I was informed that she has gone into town."

"For what reason?"

"They said she was headed to town square. She wanted to purchase certain foodstuffs appropriate for the babies."

Rolling his eyes, Ivar broke a piece of bread and put it on his plate. Though he found himself growing aggravated with the wet-nurse, he didn't wish to dismiss the woman. Not only had she come highly recommended, but she was actually quite likable, minus her unplanned day-trips. Additionally, her son was only a few months older than Dahlia. 

That meant he wouldn't need to find a playmate for her as she got older. Taking a piece of dried beef from one of the platters, Ivar motioned Messilla over.

"Bring her to me."

Placing the baby over her shoulder, Messilla did as commanded. To her surprise, he took Dahlia from her arms and sat her on his lap. Ivar then held the dried meat to her lips despite her crying. It took some coaxing, but soon enough, Dahlia grasped the hardened beef and began chewing on it.

"How did you know that would work?" An impressed Messilla asked as she took a seat at the table.

"You women need to stop thinking men are dolts when it comes to children." Ivar remarked proudly. He held Dahlia securely with one hand as he began eating again. "Anyhow, have you had first meal?"

Messilla shyly looked at her lap and shook her head. She had wanted to, however since you were asleep she was nervous about entering the Great Hall. Especially since the Ragnarssons and guests were there feasting. It would have been too much for the poor girl to enter such an environment.

"Then help yourself." Ivar commanded as kissed the top of the baby's head. "There is plenty."

"That is a kind gesture but I must decline."

"Why?"

"I mean no offense by it, my Prince. It is just that my previous Master would never have allowed such a thing. Perhaps you are putting me to a test."

"Messilla!" Ivar said with exasperation. "If I wished to punish you, I would do it outright. Now eat."

Bashfully, she took a plate and began serving herself whilst Ivar gave Dahlia his attention. The baby was content and resting her head against his chest as she busily suckled on the dried beef.

"Love, you are getting spittle everywhere." He commented before grabbing a linen. As he wiped her face and chin area, Dahlia began whining. "Stop that. You are becoming much too spoiled."

As Messilla ate, she kept stealing glances at Ivar. It was hard for her to believe that it was the same person everyone feared. Even when he had purchased her from her old Master, the man had given an ominous warning. He teased that the young Ragnarsson was likely to be the worst Master she would ever have in her life. Thankfully, she had yet to experience such.

"Give Father a kiss." Ivar sweetly said after cleaning Dahlia's face. When he brought his face closer the baby pressed her lips to his. With a big smile, he looked at the introverted Thrall. "Can you believe how clever my daughter is?

"Yes, Master. She is also very attentive when adults are speaking. It means she will likely speak earlier than most children."

"Of course she will." He replied as he looked at Dahlia. Taking his horn of mead, Ivar took a sip before turning his attention to the Thrall again. "Now, tell me, is there anything new I should be aware of?"

Straightening in her seat, Messilla bashfully looked at him. She then stated that she had overheard a conversation between Ubbe and Bjorn.

“Well?" Ivar said with annoyance.

"It was right before they entered the Great Hall for first meal. I was seated near the gardens when they made their presence known. After they acknowledged me, they spoke by the entrance. Apparently, Master Bjorn plans to leave Kattegat after the trial for his settlement. He thinks you will not see any punishment and does not wish to be around once the dust settles."

Ivar scoffed. He could care less about Bjorn ever since his mother killed Aslaug. Though he had tried, living at peace with his elder brother had run its course. Despite what Ubbe and others said, to forgive Lagertha was not in his blood.

Ivar had denied himself vengeance for years, suppressing his growing rage for the sake “family”. But now that he had a real family of his own, he no longer cared if he fell out with his brothers.

"So, Bjorn wishes to run away?" Ivar contemplated with a delighted expression. "That does not surprise me. Like his mother, he is a coward. But please, go on."

"He said that……..that….he wants Master Ubbe to take over his assigned territories in Kattegat. He does not think he will return to oversee them anytime soon, if ever. Master Ubbe tried to change his mind but it appeared that Master Bjorn is resolute."

"Is that all you overheard?"

"Yes."

Not believing her reply, Ivar looked at Messilla. As expected, her eyes were dashing around which was a telltale sign that she was hiding something. Being astute at reading people, he eyed her with seriousness.

"Messilla, I will not ask again!" He said as Dahlia became restless. She let go of the dried beef and began fidgeting in his lap. Taking his attention from the Thrall briefly, Ivar held the baby firmer. He then spooned some honeyed porridge and put the spoon to her lips. "Still hungry love? Do not worry, Father will have a talk with that blasted wet-nurse when she returns."

As he continued feeding the baby, Ivar turned his attention back to Messilla.

"Tell me what you are so afraid to say. And do not make me repeat myself. Trust me, you do not want to see my other side."

"Master Bjorn said…….he said he could not believe that the Mistress is with child again. He also said that he pities her and the children for being trapped with you. And Master Ubbe agreed."

Though the words enraged Ivar, he didn't show it outwardly. He instead kept feeding Dahlia while pondering what Messilla had revealed.

"Thank you for being of great help." He finally said. "Now come closer, I have something to say."

Placing her knife and bread down, Messilla went to Ivar's side. She stood nervously with her hands clasped in front of her as she waited to hear his words.

"I want you to keep doing as I have asked. And remember, no matter what my wife may inquire, do not reveal anything. I will let you know when you are free to desist your efforts." He stressed. "You may go and finish your food."

"Yes, Master."

"And remember, anything I do or say to you in public, play along.” Ivar added. “But never to the point that it offends my wife. Understand?"

"Of course, my Prince."

Messilla returned to her seat, grateful that Ivar was nothing like her previous owner. Though she had initially thought he wanted to lay with her, it was apparently not the case. Amazingly, Ivar was a loyal husband. Her previous Master was nothing of the sort. The man was not only cruel but he used her as a bed-warmer despite having two wives.

As she ate, Messilla hoped that when her task of spying came to an end, she could make use of her talents. As a learned woman, she could teach languages, music and other skills to Dahlia and her siblings. Indeed, for the first time since becoming a Thrall, the young woman felt she could have a decent life with you and Ivar as her Masters.

__________________

You awakened in the afternoon feeling rested and ready for the long day ahead. For whatever reason, you spirits were high despite all that was occurring.

“You know what? I think I shall wear something colorful today. Perhaps the color red would suffice." You announced to the servants as they rubbed you down with rose oil.

"Would you like to take a look at your wardrobe so you can make a selection?"

"No." You said cheerfully. "Just surprise me."

Straightaway, one of the Thralls left to go through your vast collection. The one thing no one could ever say was that Ivar was selfish. He was exceptionally generous when it came to showering you with gifts. Your husband gave you so many things, that there was hardly any space in the chamber that housed your wardrobe.

When the woman returned, she was holding a lovely burgundy dress with gold embellishments and embroidery. You nodded in approval as the other Thralls laid out your boots and other necessities. As they were doing so, one of them brought out a corset.

"I shall not require that." You said without explaining why.

The woman put the corset back on the bed and came to assist with the braiding of your hair. Thankfully, with two Thralls working diligently, they finished rather quickly.

"Mistress, how would you like the ends? Pinned into a bun or left down."

"Pin it up please. And use the golden hair combs."

After your hair was finished, the servants helped you dress before looking you over.

"I think you should use kohl as well, Mistress?" One thoughtful Thrall said.

Agreeing with her assertion, you sat down so they could apply it to your eyes. As they were doing so, one of your least favorite people entered the chamber. Head Domestic, Adelaide, sauntered in unannounced, looking unpleasant as usual.

"May I have a word, Princess Y/N?

"As you can see, I am quite busy. Besides, I must go and have first meal once they are finished."

"Understandable. But I will not keep you long."

"Alright.” You said, trying to hide your annoyance. “I am listening."

The old woman looked around the chamber to convey that she wished to speak to your privately. Taking notice, you dismissed the other Thralls despite not really wanting to entertain Adelaide.

You knew she didn't like you nor your presence. But what could you do about it? The woman had served Aslaug faithfully and taken care of Ivar after her death. Thus, asking him to send her away would be like asking him to dismiss a family member.

"Well, we are alone now. What do you wish to discuss with me?" You asked.

Adelaide looked at you with a stern resolve.

"Prince Ivar tells me that you are with child again." She began. "He asked that I say nothing to the other servants until he makes the formal announcement."

"That is understandable." You replied. "But if he has already spoken with you, what do you need from me?"

"I need to ask an important question. Something only you can answer."

You instructed Adelaide to proceed, but you were weary. To your utter bewilderment, the old woman looked you straight in the eyes and asked if you were truly with child.

"What a strange thing to ask. Of course I am! Do you think the Healer has nothing better to do than to go around fabricating things?"

"I meant no offense. I just wanted to know for certain."

“Well, you may rest your mind. I am indeed with child! You snapped. 

"I beg your pardon. But you cannot blame me for being apprehensive. After all, you did not want to birth my Master’s firstborn."

Your neck snapped in her direction. The audacity it took for Adelaide to speak to you as she was doing was astounding. 

“There is no need to feign innocence with me.” The old woman continued. You attempted to rid yourself of seed the first time around did you not?" And do not say otherwise because I witnessed it all with my own eyes. The only thing I want to know now is if the unborn child is truly Ivar’s."

"What?"

"You heard me." Adelaide replied without flinching. "Why are you so content this time around? Personally, I think it’s another man’s seed."

Your hand hit the table hard before you got to your feet. Not only were you angered by the accusation, you couldn't believe that she had been spying on you so much.

"I will hear no more from you Adelaide!" You seethed. "I cannot believe you have the gall to speak to me as if I am the servant, and not the other way around. Now you listen, and you listen well. This is Ivar's child whether it pleases you or not! Now get out!"

"As you wish, Princess Y/N."

With that ominous reply, the old woman departed the chamber, leaving you to your thoughts.

_______________________

"It’s done." King Harald said as he stood on the pier beside Ivar. "Someone should come across her soon enough.

Since the time of the trial was fast approaching, Bjorn had given permission for them to meet. Despite the King being on the panel of judges, he was still Ivar’s dearest friend. For that reason, he requested time with Ivar in case it was his last day of freedom.

"I cannot express how grateful I am. Lizzy was a danger to my family."

"That she was." The King said with a nod.

With a pleased expression, Ivar suddenly looked at his friend, almost unable to contain his joy. Noticing his sudden change of mood, King Harald gave him a peculiar look.

"What’s with the smile?" He asked.

"Though I have yet to make the announcement, you must share in my good fortune."

"Good fortune, aye? What is it?"

"Y/N is with child again."

With a hearty slap to Ivar's back, King Harald congratulated him. As he laughed, he added that the news only proved that the Gods had not abandoned the youngest Ragnarsson. In fact, it seemed that they favored him greatly.

"And you now what else? The King added. "It also proves what you said to me the night you met her."

"I said something to you?"

"I’m not surprised that you cannot remember. After all, you were very intoxicated that night. But after Y/N served our table, you looked at me as if you had been stuck by lightening. Your exact words were "She’s the one. I must have her." Hopefully, this good news should finally give you reason to stop mistreating the poor girl."

"What?" An irritated Ivar asked as he shifted the crutch underneath his arm. "You think I mistreat Y/N? If that is how you feel, why have you never voiced it before?"

"Do you forget whom you are?" King Harald asked with a hearty laugh. "I prefer my skull intact, thank you very much. But I digress. If you truly wish to know my opinion, then I shall speak freely. Personally, I think you should stop being so aggressive with your wife. Leave the rage for the enemies on the battlefield."

"Let me understand what you are suggesting. You wish for me to become soft so Y/N can run amok? Never. She is far too willful as it is."

"Look Ivar, I am not asking for you change who you are. But you must think before you act. Y/N is a foreigner and already unaccustomed to our ways. If you are not careful, like a bird, she will fly away the moment opportunity presents itself."

King Harald observed his friend’s expression once he was done speaking. Obviously, Ivar was not thrilled, however, he did not fly into a rage. Instead, he pondered the words thoughtfully.

"I am grateful." Ivar finally said as he glanced over the waters. "It is not often anyone gives me words of wisdom. That all ceased when Ragnar died. For that reason, I will take what you have said to heart.”

"Good. Now, about the trial, have you spoken to any of the other panel members?”

"That will not be necessary. You see, I believe things will go my way."

"Oh?" King Harald remarked with a chuckle. "You are far more confident than you were before. What has brought about this sudden change?"

"Let’s just say that my brothers have been overly zealous with their desire to take control of Kattegat.” Ivar scoffed. “Ubbe is a fool to think he can dissolve the Council without worrying our allies. But I’m not surprised. He lacks understanding when it comes to the intricacies of leadership. Not to mention he forgets whom everyone credits with avenging Ragnar. Me."

"That is interesting. I never took Ubbe as the ambitious type. What of Bjorn?"

"That coward? He intends to join Lagertha at his new settlement. As if mere distance will protect him once I’m ready to strike."

When King Harald asked if he was finally going to seek vengeance for Aslaug's death, Ivar nodded. 

"That treacherous woman will die by my hand. I will watch the light leave her eyes and enjoy every second."

"I do not blame you for wanting to do so. But it may be easier said than done. Don’t you think Bjorn will fight by his mother’s side?"

"Then he shall die by her side." Ivar shrugged.

"True." King Harald mused as he ran his hand over his beard. "But what of Ubbe and Hvitserk? I know they are not your favorite people at the moment. But do you think they will finally side with you?"

"Those useless dogs? None of them cared about our mother like they should have. They may go and join Lagertha’s forces for all I care."

"Well, if it is of any consolation, I shall be at your side when the time comes. After all, you area seeking justice. That makes your cause righteous in the eyes of the Gods and man.”

A pleased Ivar smiled before thanking his noble friend. There was no one else he trusted more than King Harald. And in that moment, it was reassuring to know that such a powerful man understood his need for retribution.

________________________

When you entered the Great Hall, the entire place went silent. Though it was unnerving, you remained calm. With everyone's attention focused on your every move, you approached the center of the room with your head held high. 

There were about sixty people in attendance, all of them men of valor and great importance. As for the Ragnarssons, they were on the panel of judges along with King Harald, King Solmund, Jarl Borg and Jarl Øysten.

"Thank you for being patient, Princess Y/N. Please, sit there." Ubbe said as he pointed to the chair that sat in the center of the hall. 

As you did as instructed, you passed by Ivar. Remarkably, your husband seemed to be in good spirits despite the gravity of the situation. He even gave you a reserved smile while watching you take your seat.

You could hardly breathe wondering how the proceedings were going. Despite being a character witness, you had not been present for the start of the trial. Due to your condition, Ubbe felt it was best not to expose you to the entire ordeal.

"Sister, how do you fare this afternoon?" Hvitserk asked with a pleasant expression.

"Fine, thank you."

"Good." He replied. "Firstly, on behalf of the panel, I must ask if you understand why you have been summoned."

You nodded and stated that you were there to answer their queries about Ivar. Satisfied, King Solmund followed Hvitserk’s words by asking if you were prepared to speak truthfully despite your husband being the accused.

"Of course, your Majesty. I swear by the Gods."

"The Gods?" Jarl Borg interrupted. Despite being one of the conspirators who wanted Ivar set free, he had not forgotten about your little confrontation. "No offense Princess Y/N, but everyone present is aware that you are a foreigner. Not only that, you were a Thrall forced to adopt our ways. For that reason, swearing to our Gods holds little water in my eyes."

As several people murmured in agreement, you could only look the Jarl's arrogant and mocking expression. Though it was clear he enjoyed demeaning you, he was playing with fire. 

Ally or not, Ivar didn’t appreciate his assertion. Though his expression remained serene, one thing was certain. The Jarl would live to regret his display.

“I hardly think her old life matters, Jarl Borg.” Ubbe declared.

Though you thanked your brother-in-law, you added that you understood the man’s concerns.

"Jarl Borg, you speak no lies. I am indeed a foreigner. And a Christian one at that." You began. "If swearing by my newfound Gods is not acceptable, with permission from my husband, I will swear by my old faith."

When you looked at Ivar, everyone in the Great Hall watched with great interest. It was no secret that he treated you harshly, even in public. For that reason, all those present expected an angry response.

"You may do so if it will appease Jarl Borg's concerns." Ivar replied, surprising everyone.

Relieved that he had shown restraint for once, you thanked him before giving the Jarl your attention again. You then swore to be truthful by your Christian faith, and their Gods.

"That is more than satisfactory." Jarl Øysten said, as he glanced at his friend. "What say you Borg?"

Defeated, the Jarl shrugged and told Bjorn to continue with the proceedings. From what you could gather, your brother-in-law appeared more tense than usual. 

"Sister, as you know, we are here because of Sigurd's untimely death. Unfortunately……" Bjorn continued as Ivar stared daggers in his direction. "he died at the hands of none other than our brother and your husband. Ivar. In spite of this, we want you to be forthcoming. Is that clear?"

"Yes, of course."

"Now if you please, can you shed light on Ivar's feelings toward Sigurd?"

You knew the question was coming but it didn't make it any easier to answer. Honestly, you had heard your fair share of Ivar's complaints about his brothers. But for whatever reason, Sigurd got the brunt of it. Simply put, the two were like water and oil. 

Although there were moments of peace, your husband made it clear that he hated the deceased Ragnarsson for tormenting him. 

"I can only speak on what I observed." You said as you tried to gauge your words. . "There were times that the two of them got along. For instance on the Council and things of that nature. But things never went well for long. They argued often and would not speak to each other for long periods of time."

"And what did they fight about most of the time?" King Solmund asked with curiosity.

"Well, my husband is…………was born with an affliction." You began.

But before you could say another word, the King interrupted.

"My dear, we all know he is a cripple." He affirmed. "What of it?"

"With all due respect, King Solmund, I would not put it that way. As I said, Ivar was born with an affliction."

"Fine. You may carry on."

Ivar's expression softened. Despite often referring to himself as a "cripple", it was a word he greatly disliked. He only called himself one in an attempt to take the sting out of the insult. However, it still hurt him to his core. For this reason, he was immensely touched by the way you spoke of him.

"As I was saying, my husband’s affliction was used to belittle him." You continued. "Though Sigurd knew it bothered Ivar, he would continually make mean-spirited remarks."

"Like what?" Jarl Borg asked.

"Often, it was things directed at Ivar's worth as a man." You admitted as the room erupted with whispers. It was so distracting that Bjorn had to tell everyone to desist so you could be heard. "I loved Sigurd. God knows I truly did. But he did not bite his tongue when it came to Ivar. Nor did he desist when threatened. Honestly, when my husband’s anger would rise, it only amused him. It even………………"

You paused before adding that on numerous occasions, Sigurd had told Ivar that Aslaug should have allowed him to die. Additionally, you revealed how he would also insult their deceased mother for being a dreadful caregiver.

"Of course, I never had the opportunity to meet my mother-in-law. She was long dead before I was transported to Kattegat. But from what I can tell, Ivar truly loved her. For that reason, Sigurd's disrespect of her memory made things between them worse."

King Solmund leaned back in his chair and glanced at you with a raised brow. As for Hvitserk, he looked at Ubbe before leaning forward and placing his hands on the table before them.

"Sister, you speak truthfully. The feud between the Ivar and Sigurd began in childhood." Bjorn said in agreement. "But if we are to believe that inciting Ivar is what causes his ruthless behavior, then how do you explain how he treats you?"

Your heart sank. It had not occurred to you that out of all people, one of the Ragnarssons would be the one to bring up your marital problems. And since they had witnessed things firsthand, you couldn’t lie.

The entire Great Hall was strangely quiet - everyone eager to hear your response. The only other person unnerved by the question beside you, was Ivar. 

Though the two of you had conversed openly, there were no guarantee that you wouldn’t change your mind. Naturally, the line of questioning only deepened his hatred for his elder brother.

"It is no secret that my husband is volatile." You said truthfully. "Has he done things to bring me to tears? Of course. In fact, many have seen it first-hand, including yourself. However, I do not know whether he’s worse than any other husband. All I know is that despite everything, Ivar rescued me from a life of servitude. After all, I was your Thrall when he met me."

"That may be so.” Bjorn replied. “But are you saying that Ivar isn’t cruel by nature? That he needs no provocation to be violent?"

"As a Christian, I do not think anyone is violent by nature. Everyone is capable of good and bad deeds. Even Ivar can be kind. After emancipating my family, he not only gave them homes but he established trade for my mother and brother-in-law. For that, I am ever grateful."

There were murmurs as Bjorn groaned at your reply. As for Prince Sven, he sat quietly amongst the crowd, pleased by the developments. On the flip side, no one was more disappointed by your testimony than Hvitserk. 

Like Bjorn, he hoped that you would have sealed Ivar's fate. Unfortunately, it had come to nothing.

The questioning went on for a while longer before Jarl Øysten indicated that it was enough. He added that you had been very cooperative and provided great insight. With a kind smile, he then gave you permission to depart the Great Hall.

Utterly relieved to have held your own in a room full of intimidating men, you stood. As you passed by where Ivar was sat, you felt the calloused touch of his hand on yours. When you looked down at him, he gave you a gentle squeeze.

Giving him a reassuring smile, you returned the gesture before leaving the Hall.

___________________

"Mistress, please eat something." Messilla said as she rocked a sleeping Dahlia. The two of you were sat under a sunshade in the courtyard trying to enjoy second meal. However, you had no appetite despite the delicious spread. "There is no use in worrying about what is occurring at the trial. The Master is in the hands of his Gods now."

Though you knew she was right, you were far too stressed. Whenever that occurred, your appetite was the first thing to go. And how could you enjoy any food at such a time anyway? 

The fate of your family was in the hands of other people. If things went badly for Ivar, it would be devastating. Especially since you had cast your lot with him. That meant there was no guarantee that any of the Ragnarssons would offer shelter or help.

"Messilla, if things go awry, Please stay long enough to help me get my daughter somewhere safe. After that, I will let you go."

"I wish you would not think so negatively, Mistress. But if it will ease your mind, I give you my word."

You thanked her before taking a sip of honeyed milk. Your mind eased slightly, but as you glanced at your personal attendant, your curiosity peaked. In spite of all that had been going on, you had noticed that Ivar had taken a liking to the Gaul. 

So despite your normal aversion to him, you found yourself slightly bothered.

"Tell me, what do you think of Ivar?" You asked as Messilla ran her hand over the Dahlia’s thick black hair.

"The Prince is a good Master unlike my previous one. Many of the other Thralls think so as well."

"That is good to hear." You replied as you looked into her green eyes. "But what do you think of him? Personally, I mean."

When her expression wavered, your anxiety worsened. How odd it was to think you could very well be chatting with Ivar's mistress. Though you had no evidence, all signs were saying it was a possibility. 

From her expensive wardrobe to her private chamber within the estate, your husband was not treating Messilla like a Thrall.

"Do not be alarmed. I am only trying to satisfy my curiosity. Has Ivar attempted to..............lay with you?" You added.

"Mistress, please. You are asking things that you know I cannot answer. As I told you before, the Master forbids me to say anything without his permission." She said timidly. "Truly, I wish that was not the case."

Her response didn't answer your question but it definitely created more. Why did Ivar have her sworn to such secrecy? After all, Vikings took Mistresses openly. There was no need to hide anything if Messilla was his lover. But since the entire subject was giving you a headache, you chose to push it from your mind.

Before you could take another sip of milk, you spotted some guards escorting Jonah to where you sat. Since you had not seen your brother-in-law since the last time he had visited with Ivar, you got to your feet. 

However, you barely greeted him before he practically collapsed in your arms.

"Oh Y/N, it’s awful." He said with great pain in his voice. 

Your heart raced as your thoughts went straight to your mother. She had gone to take care of a foreign Jarl's daughter. What if the girl's illness had killed her? 

"It's Lizzy! She’s dead!" Jonah said as if he barely believed it himself. “My wife is dead!”

You could barely accept what you heard. Was your little sister truly gone?  Though you tried to ask him to repeat himself, Jonah was overcome by grief and embraced you tightly. As tears welled in your eyes, you felt the peculiar ache that only death provoked. It was numb and surreal.

All you could do was rest you head on your brother-in-laws shoulder and grieve with him.

_____________________

"We have come to a decision." King Harald declared as the Great Hall quieted down. "I will now give the floor to Bjorn to convey the panel's decision."

With that he sat down as the eldest Ragnarsson got to his feet. He first locked eyes with Ivar briefly before folding his hands over his chest.

"Friends, we gathered today for the sole purpose of deciding whether or not Ivar, son of Ragnar, was accountable for the death of our brother Sigurd." Bjorn said as everyone hung on his everyone word. "After all statements were taken into account, the panel concludes that Ivar did not act maliciously. Furthermore, he will be given his freedom immediately with the condition that he pay the fine of one thousand silver penning within the month. The amount will be split equally amongst the leaders of the Heathen army. If the fine is not paid, he will be returned to the cells until the entire amount is remitted."

The Hall burst into chatter and whispers of approval. Some men even cheered causing Bjorn to raise his hands for their attention.

"Have you any questions to ask of the panel, Ivar?"

With a smug expression, your husband looked at his elder brother with satisfaction.

"You shall have the coin first thing in the morning." He replied.

Hvitserk was so appalled, he could barely look in Ivar's direction. The disappointing ruling had gone down, two to six. With he and Bjorn voting against Ivar. For whatever reason, Ubbe had changed his mind halfway through the proceedings.

"That concludes the trial. You are all free to go." Bjorn pronounced.

The Hall erupted with great noise as the people in attendance began making their way to Ivar. Everyone wanted the opportunity to shake his hand and commend him on his vindication. As for Bjorn, he marched out of the Great Hall straightaway, followed by Hvitserk. 

Ubbe, however, sat at the long table, pondering his next move. He knew that he had angered his brothers, but he had no choice.

He may have been ambitious, but Ubbe was smart enough to see the writing on the wall. Ivar was going to be set free even if he had cast a guilty vote. And the last thing he wanted was to put a target on himself or his family.

"It appears that congratulations are an order." Prince Sven said to Ivar as he shook his hand. "I for one am glad to see you remain at the head of the Great Army."

"Your words are kind. I shall not forget them." 

"I only speak the truth. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall step aside so others may have their turn."

With that, Sven excused himself and departed the Great Hall. 

______________________

As a euphoric Ivar made his way across the courtyard toward the West wing, he couldn't help smiling to himself. Not only had he thwarted the takeover attempt by his brothers, but everyone seemed satisfied by the outcome of the trial. 

In fact, like Prince Sven, most voiced their relief that he would remain leader of the Heathen forces. Whether the Ragnarssons liked it or not, their allies viewed Ivar as the superior strategic mind. 

"Master!"

Ivar stopped in his tracks as Messilla came dashing across the courtyard holding her skirts. When she made her way to where he stood, she looked around to ensure no one was within earshot.

"Why are you running around like a madwoman?" He asked half amused.

"It is Princess Y/N." She began, her breathing somewhat labored. "She has been taken to your chamber and put to bed. Master Jonah is at her bedside along with the Healer."

Ivar's pleasant expression melted away as the words hit his ears. His first thought was that something had happened to the unborn child. He knew that it was a common occurrence for women in the early stages. But then, his thoughts went to you. Ivar could tolerate many things, even the loss of an unborn heir. Though sad, it was possible to try to create another.

However, he didn't want to think of what would happen if he were to lose you.

"Why was the Healer called?" He asked. When the nervous Thrall failed to reply straightaway, his anger began to rise. "Speak, damn you!"

"Apologies. I think I should make things more clear." Messilla replied. "Rest assured that the Princess has not taken ill. She is grief-stricken."

"About what?"

"I hate to be the bearer of unhappy news, but your sister-in-law is dead."

Feigning disbelief, Ivar asked the Thrall if she was certain. Messilla replied that it appeared to be so since Jonah himself had said it. 

Though he had not expected for Elizabeth's body to be found so quickly, Ivar was glad. The sooner she was laid to rest, the sooner your family could grieve and move on.

"Where is my daughter?"

"I gave her to the wet-nurse for a feeding only moments ago."

"Fine. But when that is over, you are to keep Dahlia with you. Understand?"

"Of course, Master."

Before Ivar could add to his instructions, He spotted King Solmund, Jarl Borg and Jarl Øysten walking. The three men were headed to the Dining Hall to partake in the imported wines he had instructed the Thralls to serve. Without hesitation, Ivar took hold of Messilla's hand and kissed it affectionately.

Though he had told her to expect such things to occur, it didn't make it any less awkward. Messilla truly enjoyed being around you and feared losing the burgeoning relationship. 

Ivar leaned closer, as if flirting with the Thrall, aware that King Solmund and his companions were observing.

"That is all for now." He whispered. "And remember, anything you observe or hear, no matter how insignificant it may seem, report it."

Messilla nodded despite wanting to tell him that the entire situation was rousing your suspicion. But she held her tongue. She was a servant after all and there to do as commanded. All she could do was hope that things would return to normal sooner than later.

"Now, go and do as you have been told." Ivar said as he began walking away. "I will go and see to my wife."

King Solmund and the Jarls weren’t the only people to take not of Ivar’s “flirtation” with Messilla. Hvitserk, who had decided to go for a ride, spotted his little brother and the Thrall as well. Of course, he thought exactly what Ivar wanted everyone think. 

Needless to say, the flaxen-haired Ragnarsson was appalled by his brother’s display. Especially since he had just announced that you were with child again. Despite you siding with Ivar at the trial, Hvitserk was still contemplating helping you escape Kattegat.

It would be difficult, but not impossible. So, as he stared in his brother’s direction, the plan began to take shape.

_____________________

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[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

What the Water Gave Me, chapter 3

Main pairing: Catradora

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20172373/chapters/47980459

Chapter 3: Black Sails

Three days after leaving Seaworthy, Adora still can’t get the skirmish out of her mind.  She doesn’t think she can be judged for her preoccupation, having witnessed a fight like that.  It reminds her too much of the old battles that haunt her sleep, battles at sea aboard a different ship, but all the worse for it.

She turns the wheel and squints against the late morning sun.  There’s nary a cloud in the sky and the wind is fair.  Since their stop at Seaworthy was cut short, they’re making good time toward Salineas and are set to arrive in 10 days, less if the winds pick up in their favor.

Her crew have already recovered from the shock and are as boisterous and loud as ever.  Bow is at her side once again, leaning against the edge of the quarterdeck. Glimmer is on the main deck with one of Adora’s men, and he appears to be teaching her how to adjust the sails while she listens intently.  No one seems especially concerned about much of anything, but that just gives Adora a worse feeling of unease.  She keeps coming back to those pirates and their ship, to that brazenly flippant woman with the scorpion’s claws.  She remembers the way those pirates watched her on the dock and can’t shake the idea that their attention was more than simple curiosity.  True, there’s been no sign of them in the past three days, but Adora concludes that she won’t really feel better about it until they get to Salineas.

She’s thinking about Catra too, because of course she is.  Her brain will take even the flimsiest excuse to do that.  She remembers one of the few times the Fright Zone ever docked in Salineas, when the two of them had been released to galivant through the streets. They weren’t allowed to have spending money like the older pirates, but it was a rare day when they were left without supervision, as Shadow Weaver was elsewhere doing gods know what and Captain Hordak was conducting his secretive business in the dockyards.

Catra had been ecstatic and unwilling to waste any time, dragging Adora by the hand as they ran down the cobble streets.

Eventually they found themselves crouched in a cramped side street that was situated by the lively, bustling marketplace.  Their eyes fixed upon one particularly spacious stand that was selling crates and bushels of the exotic fruits native to these particular islands.  They licked their lips hungrily as they identified mangos, melons, kiwis, papayas, and more.  Food on the Fright Zone was bland at best, especially for them, the two youngest people there.  They weren’t old enough to help board ships, and so were rarely allowed to share in the spoils.  Catra had always resented that, even though it didn’t really bother Adora.  Shadow Weaver always set aside nice foods for her anyway, which she was able to pocket to share with Catra later.

“Okay, here’s what we do,” Catra said.  “You’ll be the distraction, and I’ll grab everything I can carry from that box over there.”  She pointed to one crate set down on the far side of the stall, one that was slightly blocked from view and therefore easiest to take from.  She then pointed at the vendor, a tall man with bull’s horns and hooves for feet.  “Once I’m in my spot, go over there and get his attention.  I’ll give you a thumbs up when I’m finished, and then I’ll meet you back by that closed down bait shop we passed a few streets ago.  You got it?”

Adora nodded excitedly. “Okay, I’m goin’ in,” Catra whispered, getting up.

Adora caught her hand as she started to go.  “Be careful!”

Catra flashed her pristine, pointy teeth.  “Always am, Adora!”

Adora stayed crouched in the alleyway while Catra ran out of sight, only to reappear a minute later kneeling next to their targeted crate.  She grinned mischievously at Adora and jerked her head in the direction of the vendor.

Adora gulped and steeled her nerves.  When she was ready, she stood and jogged up to the man.  “Uh, hey mister!  Are those real horns?”

“Hrrm?  Whadja say to me, girl?”  The vendor scratched a hairy ear as he turned from his wares to look at her.

Adora gave him her best innocent smile.  “Those horns! They’re reaaally cool.  I was wondrin’ if they was real!”  In her periphery, Adora saw Catra grabbing as much fruit as she could hold in her shirt.

“Whuh… What kind of dumb question is tha?  Course they real!”  He started to turn back but Catra hadn’t given her the signal yet.

Adora scrambled to stall. “Uh!  W-What about the hooves?  How come you got hooves for feet but got ten fingers too?”  She hated playing the idiot.  The only thing that made the humiliation worth it was the fresh fruit she would soon stuff her face with.

“What in the…? Now look ‘ere, ya mangy brat.  Some of us got work to do ‘ere, and I’ve got no damn time for---” From behind the huge man, Adora could see Catra grab one last mango and stuff it in her shirt, giving Adora a thumbs up before taking off in the other direction.  Thank the Drowned God.

“Oh, okay!  Bye, mister!” She said loudly before she too turned tail and ran, skipping back down the alleyway that they’d been hiding in.  As she left, she heard a bovine roar from behind her.

“Who stole from my bloody stall?!”

She couldn’t stop her giggles until she was outside the rundown bait shop.  She looked around for Catra, eager to get her share of their spoils.  That was when she heard the familiar sound of flesh hitting flesh and Catra crying out.

She ran in the direction of the sound, to the other side of the small building.  The first thing she saw was Shadow Weaver standing with her hands balled into fists, tendrils of darkness whipping furiously around her body.  Then she saw Catra curled up on the ground, clutching her face and crying.  All the fruit they had taken had spilled onto the street, their juices leaving sticky stains behind.

“Catra!  Shadow Weaver!” Adora gasped, running up to them.

“Adora,” Shadow Weaver drawled in her oily voice, turning to her.  “I shouldn’t be surprised to find you here too.  I caught this wretched creature making a nuisance of herself and threatening the captain’s interests here by stealing out in the open.  I don’t suppose you would know anything about that?”

Adora gulped, looking down at her feet and worrying the bottom of her shirt with her fingers.  “I-It wasn’t her fault, Shadow Weaver.  It, it was my idea!  Mine!  I wanted the fruit, and I made her help me.  She didn’t do anything wrong!”  She could see Catra staring at her from the ground, blinking back her tears.  Adora felt her own eyes burn and moisten.  “We- we didn’t mean to cause trouble for Captain Hordak, honest!”

“Oh, Adora…”  Shadow Weaver cupped her cheek with a cool, long-fingered hand.  “I know when you lie to me, dear child.  You must take better control of your pet, darling, or else the captain will have cause to get rid of her.  Do not let something like this happen again.”  She ran one pointed finger down Adora’s nose affectionately before straightening up.  “That being said, this incident cannot pass without proper punishment.”  Quick as a mako shark, Shadow Weaver grabbed Catra by the arm and dragged her to her feet.  Adora opened her mouth to protest, but Shadow Weaver cut her off with a wave of the hand.  “Ah ah, my sweet, keep quiet now, or you’ll only make it worse for her.  Do you understand?”  Adora still remembers how terrified she was of the witch in that moment. She had shut her mouth and followed Shadow Weaver back to the Fright Zone in silence.

Catra had struggled and squirmed valiantly once they were up on the deck, turning pleading eyes to Adora even as two older members of the crew dragged her to the mainmast on Shadow Weaver’s orders.  They tied her to it with ropes so tight that the brush burns didn’t heal for days. They ripped open her shirt, stained with sugary juice, and bared her back to the unforgiving malice of the crew. A huge reptile man, Tung Lashor, approached with a whip in his hand, looking at Shadow Weaver for instruction.

Shadow Weaver rested her hands on Adora’s tiny shoulders, firmly holding her in place.  “Ten stripes,” she decreed.  “Five for causing trouble for Hordak, and five for getting Adora to lie about it.”  Adora shuddered and whimpered as tears rolled freely down her cheeks.  She felt it when Shadow Weaver bent down to whisper in her ear, all while Catra tried to break free from the ropes and Tung Lashor unrolled the whip.  “You see, Adora.  Our actions always have consequences.”  The first blow landed on vulnerable flesh, and Catra’s scream rent the air.

“Captain!”  Adora’s head jerks upward and she focuses on her lookout in the crow’s nest.  “We’ve got a ship incomin’, Captain!  With black sails!”

“What?”  She follows to where he is frantically pointing, taking the telescope Bow hands her automatically and peering into it.  When she does, sure enough, she spots a ship speeding in their direction, decorated boldly with sails the color of tar.  “Fuck me,” she spits, her mind already racing.  She hands the telescope back to Bow, who takes it grimly.  “Alright, calm down.”  She says to herself as much as him.  “We don’t know that they’re coming to attack us,” she says to him.  He just stares back disbelievingly.  She can’t blame him.  She doesn’t really believe it herself.  There’s no way in the Drowned God’s sodden breeches that this ship is flashing black sails peacefully.

She shouts down to her crew, where they are already awaiting her command.  “Ready the guns!”  Instantly, the atmosphere shifts from one of energetic work to tense preparation.  The man who was teaching Glimmer leaves her by the shrouds to help roll up a cannon on the starboard side.  The Princess now looks stranded on the deck, trying to find something to do.  Adora turns back to Bow.  “Take her to my cabin and stay with her there.  If they do attack us, they cannot get their hands on her.”

It’s clear that Bow doesn’t want to leave Adora’s side, but he wants Glimmer in danger even less, so he readjusts his bow to his back and hops down from the edge, jogging over to the girl. From where she stands, Adora can see that Glimmer isn’t pleased by what Bow tells her, and she glances unhappily up at Adora, who only stares back, unyielding.  She frowns deeply, but ultimately goes with Bow, and they both disappear inside the captain’s quarters.

Now Adora stands alone at the helm, taking deep breaths.  She reminds herself that she needs to stay composed, for the sake of her crew.  As captain, she forms the foundation of their confidence and morale, and she can’t afford to waver if all of their lives are about to be put on the line.  She looks behind her once more, and curses when she sees that their pursuer has picked up speed.  In the distance she can see long oars cut and drag through the waves, propelling them ever closer to the Swift Wind’s stern.  Opportunistic shit-licking whoresons… The Swift Wind, for all her grace and speed compared to others of her kind, is still a big, lumbering cargo hauler that could never outrun a ship smaller and leaner than she.  And these flea-bitten pirate rats know it as surely as Adora does.

Still, she calls for the sails to be fully extended.  If she can give them even a bit of trouble catching up, they might decide it isn’t worth the effort and leave them be.  The extra bit of sail gives them a small burst of speed, and she spins the wheel hard to the left as their foe approaches from 20 degrees to the right. The Sword is thrumming against her hip, as if It knows It will be needed soon.

The waiting is the worst part. The two ships aren’t close enough yet to risk attacking, so all they can do is run and chase and watch each other. The pirates’ rig inches ever forward, the bowsprit jutting out like a great spear above their figurehead, which strikes Adora as somewhat familiar, but from this distance she can’t make out exactly what it is.  The black sails are flashy and bold, turning the ship into a dark specter prowling the waters, like the sea demons Shadow Weaver used to tell her stories about. Whoever the captain is must have a flair for the dramatic.

A glance at her deck reveals that her swabbies have positioned most of the guns and are ready to fight when it comes to that.  Sighing, Adora knows they’ve done all they can.  Either they fight, or they all walk away from this in peace, and there’s no way to know what will happen until it’s done.  A harsh gust cuts across the hull, forcing her to fix her hair and pull up the hood on her burgundy coat.

It takes upwards of twenty minutes, but eventually black sails are blotting out the sky in the west behind them.  Adora looks once more at their pursuers to assess the odds in the battle that’s about to break out.  When she does, her breath stutters in her chest and her gray-blue eyes go wide.

No! She recognizes the figurehead now, all too well.  The baleful eyes of a snarling, shrieking witch pierce her through.  She had always hated its twisted face, its shining shark’s teeth, and the riling snakes that made up its hair.  It used to give her nightmares as a child, but even now it freezes her blood.  Because this is no ordinary pack of thugs chasing after them, and she must now deal with the oppressive realization that she and her crew are not going to win this battle.

The Fright Zone glides up on their right side, and there is terrible silence for 10 eternal seconds. Adora can see the captain at the helm, Hordak, the bastard.  His face and figure are hidden beneath a black coat and tricorn hat.  She watches in horror as he raises a hand high in the air… And brings it down hard.

The air fills with smoke and thunder.  Adora counts fifteen cannonballs as they fly across the choppy waves and hit the Swift Wind directly, concussively piercing her starboard side and sending blood, lead shrapnel, and wood splinters flying.

“Fire!”  She yells down at her crew, and they are already lighting the fuses.  Their return wave is short by two guns but still unforgiving and harshly retributive. Her size might slow her down, but the Swift Wind makes up for it with plenty of big fucking cannons.  Through the heavy fog of smoke and sulfur, she can still see the shots as they connect, rocking the smaller vessel on impact and sending several of the pirates soaring through the air.  “Reload!”

She turns the ship’s wheel hard to the left once more with the intent of getting more distance between them. The Swift Wind lists in that direction, but it’s no use as the Fright Zone’s oarsmen pick up the slack and keep them well within range for a second attack.

“They’re firin’ chain shot, Cap!” One of her men bellows just as said shots rip gaping holes in their starboard once more.  One of them takes a dangerous chunk out of their foremast and another carves through one of their firing teams.

She watches her people fall dead to the deck, only for their bodies to be dragged away and their positions replaced.  She could scream with rage, but she doesn’t because there’s no time.  “Fire on the mangy dogs!”  She calls as her eyes turn back to Hordak, who has left the helm to his first mate and is now standing with arms crossed at the railing, bold as brass.  She’s tempted to order a shot on him directly.

The cannons roar like war drums as they counterattack, and though they do an admirable amount of damage to the Fright Zone’s aft, the other ship continues to creep closer to them. Adora curses as she glimpses hooks and ropes being thrown from the Fright Zone to catch onto the Swift Wind’s rail.  “They’re boardin’ us!”

Sure enough, right as she shouts down to her crew to abandon the cannons and get ready to fight man-to-man, she hears Hordak yell, “Run ‘em through, lads!”  Wait, that’s not Hordak’s voice…

Facing the reality of their imminent boarding, Adora lets her hands drop from the helm to the Sword. It sings an otherworldly note as she pulls It forth from Its scabbard.  Its ethereal blade glows blue, and It makes her entire body tingle as It pours Its power into her.  She reads the runes engraved into the metal, letting them embolden her and steel her courage.  Adora has been a natural with a blade since her training aboard the very ship trying to kill her now, but with the Sword in her grip she is more than a master.  She never could decide if the Sword became an extension of her or if she became an extension of It, but whichever it is means that she has never lost in a blade-to-blade fight.

She vaults the quarterdeck’s banister and lands gracefully on the main deck.  She meets the eyes of one of her men, who gulps loudly at the sight of her.  “It’s time to end this,” she tells him severely.

He nods jerkily.  “Aye aye, Captain!”

She marches forward, heading straight for the hooks pulling the two vessels closer together.  She sees one of the pirates take hold of a rope and swing over to her side.  The Sword quickens her heartbeat and urges her onward.  She sprints at her own mainmast, leaps past the shrouds, and runs up the thick wooden pole, grabbing an iron notch a yard or so up to help propel her body high into the air.  As that oh so brave and enterprising brigand crosses the water between the ships, she meets him with a roundhouse kick that spins her in the air to better slam her shin into his grinning face.

They fall together, but he hits the water with a painful smack while she angles her body so as to land on her feet atop one of the cannons.  She perches there, the Sword’s blade resting on one shoulder, glaring at the pirates gawking at her from the other end of the ropes.  One of them eventually thinks to aim a pistol at her, and she thanks the Drowned God that the Sword’s influence and pure adrenaline make her petrifying fear of guns nearly non-existent.  She does a backflip off the cannon as the lead ball soars underneath her head and off into the distance.  She lands deftly on the deck once more, just as the Captain Who Isn’t Hordak turns to their men and shouts, “Come with me and take this ship!”  The pirates cheer and bellow with swords and guns raised, and they all charge for the Fright Zone’s edge, some grabbing ropes to swing on and others putting down planks to climb across.  Yet more attempt to simply leap over the gap between the vessels, but Adora is ready for them.

The first pirate that crosses the threshold is kicked so hard in the stomach that he flies backward, cracking his spine against the aft of the Fright Zone and falling limp into the waves. Some of them try to put down another ramp and cross over that way, but the Sword slices through the wood like paper, sending it and its occupants down as well.

It’s not enough though. There’s too many of them, and they’re boarding in droves.  The Swift Wind is in chaos, and a tumultuous brawl is under way with swords clashing against each other and flintlocks firing left and right.  Her crew are doing their best, but they are vastly outnumbered.  Adora wastes no time diving right into the thick of the action, cutting a merciless slash into one brigand’s side before knocking the gun out of another’s hand, a woman with short hair and dark skin like Bow’s.  She grabs the pistol as it falls and whips the woman across the face with it.  The pirate cries out and falls away, and Adora moves on to the next.

She sees one of her men wrestling with a particularly enormous pirate.  They are battling for possession of a musket locked between them, and the huge brigand is slowly winning.  She gets a running start and does a long and elegant front flip, bringing the Sword down in a painting-perfect arc to slice through his forearms.  The Sword doesn’t sever them as she might like, but the injury still makes the pirate lose his grip on the gun, allowing Adora’s man to get it back and turn the tide.

By now, some of the enemy forces have begun to realize who their biggest threat is, and so they advance on her, attempting to cage her in and overwhelm her.  She raises the Sword in front of her and spits on the deck, daring them to attack, and is somewhat shocked to see that they actually hesitate. She wonders if her unflinching glare is really so intimidating, but doesn’t give them the chance to make up for their reluctance.  The Sword creates a shining blue arc in the air as it descends on the pirate closest to her.  The tip rips through the man’s chest, and she takes advantage of the gap he creates, blocking the axe that aims for her neck and severing the blade from the handle. She hops onto the banister leading up to the bowsprit and runs toward it.  Now free of harassing enemies, she takes a split second to scan the battlefield.

Her people are still outnumbered, and even with her help they are starting to lose.  She struggles desperately for any kind of plan that will see them through this, and her eyes catch on the hat of the Fright Zone’s captain, who, Adora only realizes now, appears to be a woman.  The captain is their crew’s foundation.  Kill the captain to break their morale, and even the hairiest fights can be won in a pinch.

Adora watches with eyes narrowed as the other captain saunters onto the Swift Wind’s deck like it already belongs to her.  Feeling white hot anger surge beneath her breast bone, she runs along the rail, hopping from gun to gun until she is close enough to strike.  Her hood falls as she jumps down behind her target and pulls her Sword back to cut right through the bitch’s throat.  But as her left arm extends to make the killing blow, she sees the other captain’s right arm rise.  She sees the briefest flash of a toothy smirk before the cold muzzle of a pistol touches her forehead, just as her blade connects with the woman’s jugular.

They are both frozen in place, arms extended and bodies left vulnerable, and the battle around them fades to barely noticeable background noise.

Adora can’t believe what she’s seeing.  Surely, it can’t be true.  She must have been hit on the head and simply failed to notice.  She can’t be seeing a pair of blue and yellow eyes staring back at her.  She can’t be seeing a set of pearly white teeth in a mouth that gawps like a fish. She can’t be seeing this face, not this face that has lingered in her thoughts and dreams every day for the past five years.

“C-Catra?”

Catra doesn’t seem to register her own name.  She just keeps gawking at Adora like she’s looking at a ghost, or maybe a miracle.  Her jaw moves up and down erratically.  Her lips struggle to form syllables.  She seems entirely incapable of speech until…

“Adora?”

In unison, as perfectly as if they’d practiced it, they both lower their weapons.  Catra’s gun hand drops limply to her side, and Adora’s sword arm follows suit.  The both of them have been rendered effectively useless, since all they can do now is stare.

It’s Catra that makes the first move, taking a single, unsteady step forward.  Her empty hand rises, falls, and rises again.  “But… you’re dead.”

“No.”  Gods, is that all she can come up with?  No? “I’m not.”  Fucking blithering idiot…

“But how?” Catra demands, taking another step forward until they are nearly nose to nose.  Her trembling fingers touch Adora’s cheek, and she sucks in a harsh breath when they do. “How can you be here?  I saw you d---”

The thunder of another cannon blast cuts off Catra’s words, and Adora’s head turns just in time to see the projectile hit the middle of the Swift Wind, smashing into the cargo hold, and her mind flashes instantly to the three dozen barrels of gunpowder sitting prettily in that very spot.  Shit!

Sure enough, she has only a second to make her decision, and it’s a simple one, really.  She turns back to Catra, wraps both arms around her, and tackles her to the deck not a fraction of a moment too soon, as Hell opens its gates behind them.

The force of the blast is incalculable, as is the volume of its roar.  Still, she only shifts to cover Catra’s body further even as her entire back explodes with searing agony.  She might scream.  She isn’t really sure.  Very little is certain.  She thinks she feels the deck as it tilts.  She’s also sure she notices when Catra slips out from under her.  Or maybe Adora just falls off.  Regardless, she presses numb palms to the wood and tries to stand up. She fails.  She tries a second time, and fails.  She can’t move her legs and her arms are useless, buckling under her weight and leaving her in a heap.

She feels hands grabbing her arms roughly, understands that her body is being dragged against someone else’s, but beyond that she doesn’t really know what’s going on.  Someone is speaking in her ear and running their hands through her hair, but her vision is blurry now and her eyelids are heavy as anchors.

The last thing she feels is someone desperately shaking her shoulders.

[a-study-in-asp]

Gene’s Birthday

I wake up on October 19 with only one thought on my mind: Gene’s birthday is today. I look over at my boyfriend, sleeping peacefully on the other side of the room. Getting up, I quietly walk over to his bed and plant a small kiss on his forehead. Gene’s face forms a small smile, but he doesn’t wake up just yet. I step back a bit and just admire his peaceful, sleeping form. I can’t wait for him to wake up, because then the fun can begin. I’m planning a surprise party for him, and Brinker and Leper are gonna help out. I tiptoe over to my closet and open it to make sure I have all of the decorations, which are hidden under a pile of clothes. I hear Gene start to wake up, so I quickly put the clothes back, obscuring the decorations from view. Then, I quickly grab a random shirt and pants to make it look like I was getting ready. He gets up, walks over to me, and wraps his arms around me.

“Good morning beautiful,” I say to him. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks cutie,” he responds tiredly, burrowing his face into my neck. I laugh, then turn around and pull him into a hug. He rests his head on my shoulder, and we just stand there, hugging. Gene then decided that he needed a shower, so I released him from the hug, but only after a quick kiss. He just giggles, then goes to get washed up. I use that time to double check that I have everything else: every Dark Tower book (because he won’t admit it, but he loves fantasy/sci-fi books), ready and wrapped, the cake, and the candles. The books and candles are under my bed, while the cake is in the ice box, which I haven’t allowed Gene into since I got the cake yesterday when I snuck into town. Satisfied, I actually get ready for the day, wearing my statement-making pink shirt (because it’s Gene’s favorite) and a pair of trousers. I’m fully dressed by the time Gene comes back, also fully dressed. I take his hand, and we make our way to the dining hall.

(Time Skip)

Once we’re in the dining hall, I spot Brinker and Leper, and we join them after getting our breakfast. Leper and Brinker wished Gene a happy birthday, and the four of us just talked. At one point, Gene ran out of orange juice and left to go get more. That’s when I finalized my plans with Brinker and Leper.

“So, you guys know the plan?” I ask them once Gene is out of earshot.

“We got it Finny,” Brinker responds. “Leper and I decorate, get the cake ready, and wrap our gifts while you keep Gene occupied and out of the dorm. Then, once we’re done, you bring Gene to the dorm after you let him know that we’re ready.”

“Precisely!” I quickly slip Brinker a room key as I see Gene coming back. “It HAS to be a surprise! Remember: don’t tell him!”

“Don’t tell me what?” Gene asks as he sits back down. Brinker, Leper, and I do our best not to panic.

“Uh, how great your gifts are, duh!” I say, trying to cover for our little slip that could’ve ruined everything. Gene searches me for a second, but doesn’t end up questioning it. I inwardly let out a sigh of relief. After we’re finished, Gene asks if we can go to the library, and even though it’s not my favorite place, I say yes, and he happily drags me along to one of his favorite places. It warms my insides to see him so happy. Once we get to the library, Gene giddily goes around to all of the bookshelves, looking at different books and reading excerpts from each of them. I look at a couple too, and I see Gene look at me with pride. I blush, put the book back, and go after my boyfriend.

(Time Skip)

After spending 3 hours in the library and then being forced to go to church, I suggest lunch and then a walk along the Devon River. Gene goes along with me, and we stroll to the dining hall hand in hand. A couple people stare, but we ignore them. We get some food, and then find a nice spot for two. He tries to get me to spill the beans about what Brinker, Leper, and I were talking about this morning, but I refuse to break, and change the topic to how great of a day it is today. We both finish up then, hand in hand, with fingers interlocked, we make our way towards the Devon.

(Leper’s POV)

I swear, all of this decorating is taking forever. I’m just glad Brinker and I were able to find the decorations. Even though Finny told us where they were, we still had to dig through all of Finny’s clothes. Anyways, Brinker and I have been decorating for about an hour, and I think we’ve done well. Streamers line the window, about eight balloons are scattered throughout the room, and there’s a “Happy Birthday” sign on the back of the door. Of course, there’s still decals to put on the walls, and a cake to set up. Finny said it was chocolate. I approve of his life choices.

“Leper, come look at this!” Brinker says, gesturing wildly from Finny’s ice box.

“What is it?” I ask while making my way over to where he is.

“Look at this cake! It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever seen!” He has the lid of the ice box open, and is looking at what’s inside with wide eyes, looking like a kid on Halloween. I take a look at the cake, and instantly agree with Brinker. It’s covered in chocolate icing and has chocolate shavings along the sides. “Happy Birthday Gene” is scrawled across the top with pink icing. It takes all of my self control to not reach into the ice box and just eat the entire cake. And maybe share. But probably not.

“We should probably close this before we end up eating this ourselves,” Brinker decides, voicing my inner thoughts. He slowly closes the ice box, and we get back to work. At one point, I look out the window to see Finny and Gene strolling alongside the Devon River.

“We should take a picture of them,” I say, grabbing Finny’s Polaroid camera. Brinker nods excitedly as I snap the photo. The picture slides out of the slot at the bottom of the camera, and I make sure not to touch the actual image, as to not ruin it. It develops into a cute black-and-white image of Gene and Finny, hand in hand. I go the door and tape it on the front, so that they can both see it when they come in.

“Leper! Where should I put these decals?” Brinker yells at me. Well, back to work! Hope we don’t get hungry.

(Finny’s POV)

This is perfect. A nice, peaceful river walk with a perfect human being. We’ve crossed the tree line by now, but I could’ve sworn that I saw Leper in our window earlier. He better not have touched my Polaroid. I hear Gene snicker beside me.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, turning to him. He just keeps grinning and trying to hold back laughter.

“This,” he says, pushing me into the river. I hit the water and pop up a second later, glaring at my boyfriend, who’s doubled over with laughter. As payback, I splash him with river water. He lets out a very manly squeak as he gets hit with cold river water, making me laugh.

“Jerk,” he says.

“Love you too. Now help me up,” I respond, holding my arm up. He takes my arm, and being the great boyfriend I am, I pull him into the water with me. He hits the water, and I bust out laughing. He pops up and gives me a look that, if looks could kill, would send me 6 feet under. It only makes me laugh harder. He splashes me in the face, making me sputter. He smirks, and I splash him back. Soon, we’re in a full-on splash war, laughing at and with each other. Soon enough, we’re climbing out of the river and onto dry land because we’re both freezing. Gene’s wet clothes cling to him, exposing some of his muscle, and making me blush. Gene notices and flexes his biceps, only making me blush more.

“Like what you see?” he asks me. I chuckle a bit and nod.

“That’s hot,” I answer him. He grins. I feel warmer even though I’m freezing. I take his hand in mine, give him a quick kiss, and lead him back to the dorms, hoping that Brinker and Leper are done decorating.

(Leper’s POV)

“No, we should keep it on the desk!” I say, my temper slowly rising. Brinker and I have all of the decorations set up, we agreed to have the presents on Gene’s bed, but now we’re arguing about where to put the cake. He insists that it goes on Finny’s bed, where it could get sat on, while I say we just keep it where it is now, which is on the desk.

“Leper, if we put it on the bed, then it’ll be in the same vicinity as the other decorations. Having it on the desk will make it harder to see,” Brinker explains. He’s trying to reason with me. It won’t work.

“But if we put it on the bed, then someone could sit on it. And no one wants a smushed cake.” Brinker glances at the window, and by the look that crosses his face, I can conclude that he isn’t worried about the cake anymore. ‘Point, Leper’ I think. “Why are you staring out the window?” I ask Brinker.

“Because Finny and Gene are coming!” He answers me with a slightly alarmed tone. I look out the window and, sure enough, Finny and Gene are approaching the dorms, joking and hand-holding and….soaked? Did they fall in the river? I abandon the window, make sure the door is unlocked, and hide in the closet. Brinker stares at me like I’m crazy as I close the door.

“Why are you just standing there?! Hide!” I whisper-yell at Brinker. He finally registers what I’m doing and I hear him dive under the desk. “Watch the cake!”

“We wouldn’t have to watch the cake if it was on the bed!”

“We’re not going back to that! Just leave it!”

“No! Give me 5 seconds, and it’ll be where it’s supposed to be!”

“FORGET ABOUT THE STUPID CAKE!! THEY’RE COMING!!” Brinker shuts up after that.

(Finny’s POV)

We get to the dorm building and instantly go looking for towels to dry off with. The sunlight on the walk back to the dorms had helped us dry off a little bit, but we still wanted towels. So, after we finally find some towels and dry off, we race each other up the stairs. I win, but not by much. We stop at the top of the stairs to catch our breath. I recover first.

“Okay. Close your eyes,” I instruct Gene, who’s just now getting his air back.

“Why?” he questions. ‘Dude, just do it.’

“Because I wanna surprise you.”

“Okay…” Gene decides to trust me, closing his eyes. I take his hand once more, intertwining our fingers, and lead him to our dorm room. I go to open the door but then notice a Polaroid picture of Gene and I walking along the Devon. I already knew who it was. ‘Leper, I’m going to kill you. No one touches my Polaroid.’ I take the picture down and put it in my pocket. Then open the door. I lead us both inside, and I can’t help but admire the decorations. Brinker gives me a thumbs up from under the desk.

“Okay, open up!” I say excitedly. Gene opens his eyes, and gasps at the room around him, full of decorations and presents and cake.

“Surprise!!” Leper, Brinker, and I all shout at the same time, Leper popping out of the closet, Brinker popping out from under the desk, and me putting both my hands and one of Gene’s hands in the air. During Brinker’s attempt to get out from under the desk, he hits his head on the underside of the desk and then on the chair, and he slumps to the ground, causing Leper, Gene, and I to break down laughing.

(Brinker’s POV)

I tried to pop out from under a desk. I failed miserably, hitting my head on both the desk and the chair. I now lie on the floor with my friends laughing at me while I question and regret every life decision I’ve ever made.

(Finny’s POV)

The three of us-Gene, Leper, and I- pull Brinker up from the ground.

“I regret everything I’ve ever done,” Brinker says, voicing his inner thoughts. Leper starts laughing again, and Gene and I just grin while Brinker glares at Leper.

“So,” I start, turning to Gene, “do you like it?” He gives me an Eskimo kiss before kissing me for real. He presses his forehead to mine after breaking the kiss.

“I love it, Finny,” he answers, both of our faces completely red.

“Get a room!” Leper calls from the desk, where he and Brinker look like they’re going to tear into the cake at any given second. In response to that, Gene and I just kiss once more, while Leper face palms. “When you guys are done, can we eat?” Gene and I kiss until we need air, and only then do we break. “Finally, I’m hungry!” We start laughing again and I cut the cake, much to the delight of the other three boys in the room. We sit on my bed eating cake and telling embarrassing stories. I quickly glance at the bookcase and see my Polaroid sitting there, reminding me of something.

“Hey Leper, did you touch my Polaroid?” I ask, even though I know he did. He looks to Brinker with alarm, and Brinker gives him a look that says “you’re screwed”. Gene chuckles, luckily not choking on any cake. Leper tries not to hold eye contact with me.

“No…why would I touch your camera?” Leper counters. I don’t respond, saving that for another time, which only scares Leper more. He knows that I know. Anyways, after we finish our cake, I do a giant leap over to Gene’s bed and try to successfully do a giant leap back. I almost hit my face into a giant stack of books while losing my balance, but I don’t fall. Leper and Brinker also reveal what they got. By the time Gene’s done opening presents, he has an entire book series (Dark Tower), a pink shirt that matches mine, and a leather jacket. Brinker breaks out a pack of cards, and soon enough we’re sitting on the floor playing poker, rummy, and almost every card game in the books. By about 9:00, we’ve eaten most of the cake too, mainly because we needed food and none of us wanted to leave the dorm room. Brinker and Leper decide to head back to their rooms so that they can get some sleep, and Gene and I bid them farewell. Gene rests his head on my shoulder, and I rest my head on his.

“Did you have a good day?” I ask him. He nuzzles my neck.

“The best day,” he answers with a smile, and pulls me into a hug. I place a kiss on his forehead, and we fall asleep cuddling.

[nerddface]

Lockbox

Characters: Jacob Frye, Reader, Evie & Henry make an appearance

Warnings: Nothing :)

Word count: 2019

Notes: Ficmas Day 23 | What is Ficmas?

blarg i never want to see the word lock ever again

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Jacob yawned and sunk deeper into his loveseat. There were a dozen things he would rather be doing than listening to Henry prattle on about intel and paperwork. This was Evie’s forte, not his. He was the enforcer. He beat people up and raced carriages, not puzzled over... puzzles.

“The only obstacle,” Henry continued as Jacob watched leafy shadows dance on the car’s floor, “is they are both in locked boxes, behind locked doors, behind a guard rotation.”

“Guards aren’t a problem,” Jacob put in.

“I don’t expect them to be,” Henry assured. “My concern is for the locks. Can either of you pick them?” Jacob polished a spot of dried blood off his gauntlet.

“Can’t we just steal a key?”

“No one on site carries one. The only key is held by the owner of the buildings, who is currently in New York.”

Evie hummed. “Do you know someone who could teach us?”

“I can teach you, partially. It is probably better to learn from someone else, however...” Henry shuffled for a paper on his desk and handed it to Evie. “This is Y/N L/N. She owns a small produce store a few blocks from here. Don’t let her propriety fool you-- I’ve never met anyone better at finessing a lock than this woman. I can call in a favor for her instruction.”

Jacob stood and peered over his sister’s shoulder at the sketch. “A grocer? Is that a cover job?”

Henry chuckled. “Oh, no, she hasn't the stomach for our work. She nearly fainted once after watching a rat get caught underhoof. I don't know where she learned her skills, but she is the best I have to offer, and I daresay the best in the city. She should be open now, if you’re ready.”

~

Miss Y/N’s shop was heavy with the perfume of flowers, and Jacob had to duck under a clothesline of dried bundles as he came in her door. There were more strung up along her counter, and a couple little dancing animal figurines decorating the top of her cashbox.

“Good morning!” a voice chirped from between the tall aisles. A woman appeared, dressed simply, with a towel slung over one shoulder. She paused when she saw them, but her smile faltered only for a second before it returned. “Oh, hello there! What can I do you for?”

“Henry Green said you might be able to help us,” Evie clasped her hands at her middle, trying to present them peacefully. Jacob peered down at the shopkeeper as she assessed them, pretty eyes flickering behind wispy butterfly lashes. She didn’t linger on him long, but he recognized her full once-over of him.

“You must be the Frye twins, then,” she concluded. “What did Henry say your names were, again? Eva and John?”

“Jacob,” Jacob corrected firmly, and Evie shifted her weight, just happening to trod upon his toes as she did so.

“And Evie, Miss L/N.”

“Oh, that’s right!” the woman exclaimed. “Sorry, terribly forgetful.” She tapped a finger on her temple. “Got it from my mother. Poor mum could get lost in a paper bag. Evie and Jacob. Got it. What can I help you with, Evie and Jacob?”

“There’s some paperwork we need to get at, but it’s in lockboxes too hard for us to break. Mr. Green said you’re the best chance to get into them.”

A flush brightened her cheeks, and she chuckled somewhat nervously, clasping her hands at her middle. Jacob narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t say the best, but I can certainly see what I can do! Where are these boxes of yours?”

“There are two, across the city, in Blighter warehouses. One is relatively close by,” Evie explained, slapping Jacob with the back of her hand as Y/N shifted uncomfortably under his intense scrutiny. “Your earliest convenience would be appreciated.”

“Oh, no, Miss Evie, I’m afraid I can’t do any of your fancy fighting.” Her eyes met Jacob’s for a heartbeat, but then flickered to his sister again, and she wrung her hands. “Bring the boxes to me and I’ll bust them open for you! I can patch up the locks afterwards, as well, if you’d like to keep your things a little more secure, plus they’re good to learn with. Do you think you can manage that?”

“I believe so, Miss.”

“Wonderful! Now, unless you’d like some apples, there isn’t much I can do for you until I get those boxes.”

“We’ll see you soon, then, Miss.” Evie dipped her head in farewell. Jacob fixed the grocer with a long look as he tipped his hat, and followed his sister out of the shop.

~

Once around the corner on the way back to the train, Evie smacked Jacob’s chest with some force.

“Ow!” he exclaimed. “What was that for?”

“You’re going to frighten her off with that look you’re giving her. Mr. Green is already helping us at his expense.”

“Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. I’m surprised he didn’t get her for you personally! Hire London’s foremost locksmith, perhaps!”

“Jacob.” The sharp edge to Evie’s voice left little room for argument, and he clacked his jaw shut. It wasn’t worth fighting with her, now. All she would do was quote Father at him again, and ruin his day. Before she could launch into one of her tirades, he separated from her and scaled the nearest building, determined to upstage his sister and get his lockbox to their new friend first.

~

It was beyond easy to find Y/N. If her bright pink, lace-frilled apron didn’t point her out among the dark fashions of the market street she explored, the large flowers decorating her cap did. A cheerful sunflower called to him all the way up on the London skyline, beckoning him down to greet it. Entirely without his permission, his heart leapt towards her, and he paused for a moment, slightly startled and more than a little concerned. He pulled it back off the edge of the high-rise and settled it back in his chest with a deep breath. He didn’t have time for feelings.

He skipped down the building, keeping to the shady alleyway, and paused again atop a thick clothesline, taking a moment to watch her peruse a ribbon stand. He hardly even noticed when he jumped to the ground, and only came entirely back into his senses when the brisk wharf air blew a decidedly warm scent to him -- of lavender, cloves, and the perfume of those bright flowers on her hat. It hooked at his chest, drawing him towards her headfirst.

He snuck up on her through the crowd, and came to stand beside her as she tucked her recent fabric purchase into the basket on her arm. Before she could turn away and continue shopping, he inclined his head to speak closer to her ear.

“Hello, Y/N.”

Y/N jumped about a foot in the air and away from him, her hands flying to her chest. The yelp that escaped from her curled his lip. “Oh! Goodness, Mister Frye, you frightened me!” She tittered and sighed audibly, readjusting her scarf around her neck. “What can I do for you?”

High on mischief, Jacob grinned at her from beneath his top hat. “You can be outside your shop at 4 o’clock today.” He left her with a wink, and melted back into the London traffic.

~

For some reason, the prospect of seeing Y/N again spurred Jacob through his day, and he had his lockbox in hand by noon.

“Boy, that’s a vault, that is!” she exclaimed when he arrived with the thing. “There’s no way that will fit through my front door. Bring it around the back, here, i’ll grab a lamp and we can work on it.”

She disappeared back into her shop and then reappeared out the back door as his Rooks were parking the cart. There was still plenty of light to work without it, so she left it atop a nearby barrel and hoisted herself (somewhat awkwardly thanks to her skirts) into the back of the cart. She managed not to topple over, and Jacob followed, perching on the side panel to watch her bust the safe open. He tilted his head at his driver, and the Rooks took their respective posts, in case any Blighters attempted to reclaim what he had rightfully stolen.

Y/N sat, cross-legged, before the lockbox and retrieved a small cloth roll from her pocket. She set it beside her and retrieved a few small, silver tools, and for a few minutes worked in silence.

“Alright!” she said, suddenly. “Home stretch. Get a good pressure point, right... one more... and then we just -- jimmy -- this here -- and there we go!” The lock clicked and the door popped open. She stood and stepped back. “Have at her.”

Papers. Of course he had been sent to retrieve more frigging information. Nothing in it for him, as always. He scowled, but shuffled through the miscellaneous paperwork until he found a small leatherbound notebook with the assassin insignia stamped on the front.

“Brilliant,” he muttered, tucking the book away. Now that that was over, he was eager to move on. The potential places knowing how to unlock this could get him into was motivation enough to want to learn, not to mention this was a perfect opportunity get under Y/N’s skin. Her delicacy was endlessly entertaining. “Now, how does this work?”

Y/N adjusted her skirts to kneel down again, shut the safe door, reengaged the lock, and took a seat. “Tension is everything,” she began. “You need talented fingers to pick locks.” Her eyes lingered on him for a moment as he sat beside her, but he was probably just reading too deep into her words.

Her first instructions were simple enough, but he was much more invested in getting a reaction out of her. Purposefully, he dropped the tension in his wrench. She didn’t even hardly respond, just tilted her head at the sound of the pins dropping.

“Whoops!” she chirped. “Try again. Tension is your key.” She seemed quite proud of this little joke, but he remained stoic, even as her sparkling eyes begged him to laugh, and she cleared her throat. “You need to keep the pins up.”

Half a dozen more times, he made simple mistakes, trying to figure out how to exhaust her patience, but she remained as level-headed as always. Jacob watched her hands as she instructed him again, but his mind wandered. He wondered how she kept so cool. Perhaps she didn’t know he was toying with her. Was she really that impercipient?

In the distance, Big Ben bonged loudly, alerting them to the time. Y/N stood, peering up above the high-rises at the depleting daylight. Sighing, she reached for her matchbox and her lamp and illuminated the darkening space.

“I think it’s about time to wrap up for the evening,” she said as she shook her hand to extinguish the match. The candlelight danced on her cheekbones and chased the dying sun across her hair, beckoning his heart to follow, and it made an involuntary flutter in his chest. “Next time we’ll start on a simpler mechanism. I hope you have more finesse than your sister alluded to.”

Jacob resented that. He took up one of her hands and held her gaze squarely, mustering the look that colored every woman’s cheeks. “Well, miss, I hope you can’t break more than locks.”

She shot him a wink, but he was pleased to see a blush bloom up her ears. “You don’t keep any locks on you, darling. You’re open as a book.” She dropped the little leather notebook into his hands, one that had previously been stowed safely away, and he looked between it and her, startled. It looked as though her nimble fingers were capable than more than just lockpicking.

“Careful around here, Mister Frye,” she said, fixing him with one last sunbeam grin before she left, one brow quirked. “Never know what the grocers might be up to.”

[a-study-in-ginny-archive]

Gene’s Birthday

I wake up on October 19 with only one thought on my mind: Gene’s birthday is today. I look over at my boyfriend, sleeping peacefully on the other side of the room. Getting up, I quietly walk over to his bed and plant a small kiss on his forehead. Gene’s face forms a small smile, but he doesn’t wake up just yet. I step back a bit and just admire his peaceful, sleeping form. I can’t wait for him to wake up, because then the fun can begin. I’m planning a surprise party for him, and Brinker and Leper are gonna help out. I tiptoe over to my closet and open it to make sure I have all of the decorations, which are hidden under a pile of clothes. I hear Gene start to wake up, so I quickly put the clothes back, obscuring the decorations from view. Then, I quickly grab a random shirt and pants to make it look like I was getting ready. He gets up, walks over to me, and wraps his arms around me.

“Good morning beautiful,” I say to him. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks cutie,” he responds tiredly, burrowing his face into my neck. I laugh, then turn around and pull him into a hug. He rests his head on my shoulder, and we just stand there, hugging. Gene then decided that he needed a shower, so I released him from the hug, but only after a quick kiss. He just giggles, then goes to get washed up. I use that time to double check that I have everything else: every Dark Tower book (because he won’t admit it, but he loves fantasy/sci-fi books), ready and wrapped, the cake, and the candles. The books and candles are under my bed, while the cake is in the ice box, which I haven’t allowed Gene into since I got the cake yesterday when I snuck into town. Satisfied, I actually get ready for the day, wearing my statement-making pink shirt (because it’s Gene’s favorite) and a pair of trousers. I’m fully dressed by the time Gene comes back, also fully dressed. I take his hand, and we make our way to the dining hall.

(Time Skip)

Once we’re in the dining hall, I spot Brinker and Leper, and we join them after getting our breakfast. Leper and Brinker wished Gene a happy birthday, and the four of us just talked. At one point, Gene ran out of orange juice and left to go get more. That’s when I finalized my plans with Brinker and Leper.

“So, you guys know the plan?” I ask them once Gene is out of earshot.

“We got it Finny,” Brinker responds. “Leper and I decorate, get the cake ready, and wrap our gifts while you keep Gene occupied and out of the dorm. Then, once we’re done, you bring Gene to the dorm after you let him know that we’re ready.”

“Precisely!” I quickly slip Brinker a room key as I see Gene coming back. “It HAS to be a surprise! Remember: don’t tell him!”

“Don’t tell me what?” Gene asks as he sits back down. Brinker, Leper, and I do our best not to panic.

“Uh, how great your gifts are, duh!” I say, trying to cover for our little slip that could’ve ruined everything. Gene searches me for a second, but doesn’t end up questioning it. I inwardly let out a sigh of relief. After we’re finished, Gene asks if we can go to the library, and even though it’s not my favorite place, I say yes, and he happily drags me along to one of his favorite places. It warms my insides to see him so happy. Once we get to the library, Gene giddily goes around to all of the bookshelves, looking at different books and reading excerpts from each of them. I look at a couple too, and I see Gene look at me with pride. I blush, put the book back, and go after my boyfriend.

(Time Skip)

After spending 3 hours in the library and then being forced to go to church, I suggest lunch and then a walk along the Devon River. Gene goes along with me, and we stroll to the dining hall hand in hand. A couple people stare, but we ignore them. We get some food, and then find a nice spot for two. He tries to get me to spill the beans about what Brinker, Leper, and I were talking about this morning, but I refuse to break, and change the topic to how great of a day it is today. We both finish up then, hand in hand, with fingers interlocked, we make our way towards the Devon.

(Leper’s POV)

I swear, all of this decorating is taking forever. I’m just glad Brinker and I were able to find the decorations. Even though Finny told us where they were, we still had to dig through all of Finny’s clothes. Anyways, Brinker and I have been decorating for about an hour, and I think we’ve done well. Streamers line the window, about eight balloons are scattered throughout the room, and there’s a “Happy Birthday” sign on the back of the door. Of course, there’s still decals to put on the walls, and a cake to set up. Finny said it was chocolate. I approve of his life choices.

“Leper, come look at this!” Brinker says, gesturing wildly from Finny’s ice box.

“What is it?” I ask while making my way over to where he is.

“Look at this cake! It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever seen!” He has the lid of the ice box open, and is looking at what’s inside with wide eyes, looking like a kid on Halloween. I take a look at the cake, and instantly agree with Brinker. It’s covered in chocolate icing and has chocolate shavings along the sides. “Happy Birthday Gene” is scrawled across the top with pink icing. It takes all of my self control to not reach into the ice box and just eat the entire cake. And maybe share. But probably not.

“We should probably close this before we end up eating this ourselves,” Brinker decides, voicing my inner thoughts. He slowly closes the ice box, and we get back to work. At one point, I look out the window to see Finny and Gene strolling alongside the Devon River.

“We should take a picture of them,” I say, grabbing Finny’s Polaroid camera. Brinker nods excitedly as I snap the photo. The picture slides out of the slot at the bottom of the camera, and I make sure not to touch the actual image, as to not ruin it. It develops into a cute black-and-white image of Gene and Finny, hand in hand. I go the door and tape it on the front, so that they can both see it when they come in.

“Leper! Where should I put these decals?” Brinker yells at me. Well, back to work! Hope we don’t get hungry.

(Finny’s POV)

This is perfect. A nice, peaceful river walk with a perfect human being. We’ve crossed the tree line by now, but I could’ve sworn that I saw Leper in our window earlier. He better not have touched my Polaroid. I hear Gene snicker beside me.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, turning to him. He just keeps grinning and trying to hold back laughter.

“This,” he says, pushing me into the river. I hit the water and pop up a second later, glaring at my boyfriend, who’s doubled over with laughter. As payback, I splash him with river water. He lets out a very manly squeak as he gets hit with cold river water, making me laugh.

“Jerk,” he says.

“Love you too. Now help me up,” I respond, holding my arm up. He takes my arm, and being the great boyfriend I am, I pull him into the water with me. He hits the water, and I bust out laughing. He pops up and gives me a look that, if looks could kill, would send me 6 feet under. It only makes me laugh harder. He splashes me in the face, making me sputter. He smirks, and I splash him back. Soon, we’re in a full-on splash war, laughing at and with each other. Soon enough, we’re climbing out of the river and onto dry land because we’re both freezing. Gene’s wet clothes cling to him, exposing some of his muscle, and making me blush. Gene notices and flexes his biceps, only making me blush more.

“Like what you see?” he asks me. I chuckle a bit and nod.

“That’s hot,” I answer him. He grins. I feel warmer even though I’m freezing. I take his hand in mine, give him a quick kiss, and lead him back to the dorms, hoping that Brinker and Leper are done decorating.

(Leper’s POV)

“No, we should keep it on the desk!” I say, my temper slowly rising. Brinker and I have all of the decorations set up, we agreed to have the presents on Gene’s bed, but now we’re arguing about where to put the cake. He insists that it goes on Finny’s bed, where it could get sat on, while I say we just keep it where it is now, which is on the desk.

“Leper, if we put it on the bed, then it’ll be in the same vicinity as the other decorations. Having it on the desk will make it harder to see,” Brinker explains. He’s trying to reason with me. It won’t work.

“But if we put it on the bed, then someone could sit on it. And no one wants a smushed cake.” Brinker glances at the window, and by the look that crosses his face, I can conclude that he isn’t worried about the cake anymore. ‘Point, Leper’ I think. “Why are you staring out the window?” I ask Brinker.

“Because Finny and Gene are coming!” He answers me with a slightly alarmed tone. I look out the window and, sure enough, Finny and Gene are approaching the dorms, joking and hand-holding and....soaked? Did they fall in the river? I abandon the window, make sure the door is unlocked, and hide in the closet. Brinker stares at me like I’m crazy as I close the door.

“Why are you just standing there?! Hide!” I whisper-yell at Brinker. He finally registers what I’m doing and I hear him dive under the desk. “Watch the cake!”

“We wouldn’t have to watch the cake if it was on the bed!”

“We’re not going back to that! Just leave it!”

“No! Give me 5 seconds, and it’ll be where it’s supposed to be!”

“FORGET ABOUT THE STUPID CAKE!! THEY’RE COMING!!” Brinker shuts up after that.

(Finny’s POV)

We get to the dorm building and instantly go looking for towels to dry off with. The sunlight on the walk back to the dorms had helped us dry off a little bit, but we still wanted towels. So, after we finally find some towels and dry off, we race each other up the stairs. I win, but not by much. We stop at the top of the stairs to catch our breath. I recover first.

“Okay. Close your eyes,” I instruct Gene, who’s just now getting his air back.

“Why?” he questions. ‘Dude, just do it.’

“Because I wanna surprise you.”

“Okay...” Gene decides to trust me, closing his eyes. I take his hand once more, intertwining our fingers, and lead him to our dorm room. I go to open the door but then notice a Polaroid picture of Gene and I walking along the Devon. I already knew who it was. ‘Leper, I’m going to kill you. No one touches my Polaroid.’ I take the picture down and put it in my pocket. Then open the door. I lead us both inside, and I can’t help but admire the decorations. Brinker gives me a thumbs up from under the desk.

“Okay, open up!” I say excitedly. Gene opens his eyes, and gasps at the room around him, full of decorations and presents and cake.

“Surprise!!” Leper, Brinker, and I all shout at the same time, Leper popping out of the closet, Brinker popping out from under the desk, and me putting both my hands and one of Gene’s hands in the air. During Brinker’s attempt to get out from under the desk, he hits his head on the underside of the desk and then on the chair, and he slumps to the ground, causing Leper, Gene, and I to break down laughing.

(Brinker’s POV)

I tried to pop out from under a desk. I failed miserably, hitting my head on both the desk and the chair. I now lie on the floor with my friends laughing at me while I question and regret every life decision I’ve ever made.

(Finny’s POV)

The three of us-Gene, Leper, and I- pull Brinker up from the ground.

“I regret everything I’ve ever done,” Brinker says, voicing his inner thoughts. Leper starts laughing again, and Gene and I just grin while Brinker glares at Leper.

“So,” I start, turning to Gene, “do you like it?” He gives me an Eskimo kiss before kissing me for real. He presses his forehead to mine after breaking the kiss.

“I love it, Finny,” he answers, both of our faces completely red.

“Get a room!” Leper calls from the desk, where he and Brinker look like they’re going to tear into the cake at any given second. In response to that, Gene and I just kiss once more, while Leper face palms. “When you guys are done, can we eat?” Gene and I kiss until we need air, and only then do we break. “Finally, I’m hungry!” We start laughing again and I cut the cake, much to the delight of the other three boys in the room. We sit on my bed eating cake and telling embarrassing stories. I quickly glance at the bookcase and see my Polaroid sitting there, reminding me of something.

“Hey Leper, did you touch my Polaroid?” I ask, even though I know he did. He looks to Brinker with alarm, and Brinker gives him a look that says “you’re screwed”. Gene chuckles, luckily not choking on any cake. Leper tries not to hold eye contact with me.

“No...why would I touch your camera?” Leper counters. I don’t respond, saving that for another time, which only scares Leper more. He knows that I know. Anyways, after we finish our cake, I do a giant leap over to Gene’s bed and try to successfully do a giant leap back. I almost hit my face into a giant stack of books while losing my balance, but I don’t fall. Leper and Brinker also reveal what they got. By the time Gene’s done opening presents, he has an entire book series (Dark Tower), a pink shirt that matches mine, and a leather jacket. Brinker breaks out a pack of cards, and soon enough we’re sitting on the floor playing poker, rummy, and almost every card game in the books. By about 9:00, we’ve eaten most of the cake too, mainly because we needed food and none of us wanted to leave the dorm room. Brinker and Leper decide to head back to their rooms so that they can get some sleep, and Gene and I bid them farewell. Gene rests his head on my shoulder, and I rest my head on his.

“Did you have a good day?” I ask him. He nuzzles my neck.

“The best day,” he answers with a smile, and pulls me into a hug. I place a kiss on his forehead, and we fall asleep cuddling.

-Mod A

[mysticalcrusadementality]

Scars Along My Heart (A Frisk, Gaster and Sans Love Triangle)

 Damn… That was faster than I thought; I actually didn’t expect anyone to give this post any mind. But the people have spoken so… On with the show!

Also since Tumblr won’t let me italicize or bold texts anymore this key will help you keep track of who is saying/thinking what.

Frisk: (F)

The voice (better know as Chara): (V)

Gaster: (G)

Anything without “” is the characters thoughts

Anything inside {} is said in sign language

~}{~

Frisk waved good-bye to Undyne as she dashed away, most likely heading back to Snowdin while Alphys and Papyrus trained. She chuckled at the thought; if she was honest it seemed like a pretty good fit to have the proud skeleton be her mentor. Being around someone so upbeat and hopeful even in the face of adversity was just the thing for such a shy little introvert like the royal scientist. The content smile on her face soon fell away though as she turned to face the road ahead, dread oozing and spilling over her soul like toxic sludge at the thought of facing Asgore. Again. Mechanically her feet brought her forward, each step dragging across the damp ground as the apprehension seemed to physically weigh her down the closer she got to the castle. It wasn’t even facing off against the king that made her feel this way, it was facing HIM and she’d have to be a real moron to think he wouldn’t have something else planned for her after she’d finished this little side quest he’d sent her on. God just thinking about going through all of that a second time made her feel exhausted. Physically, mentally, spiritually… Exhausted. Unconsciously her arms rose up to wrap themselves around her torso, her grip on her forearms tight as she hugged herself to have even the smallest form of comfort. Even if it was only from herself… (V) You know it doesn’t have to be this way. It whispered in the same way a snake would try to entice its next victim. (F) Oh god not you again. She thought back with a groan. (V) Oh you better believe it doll face. It giggled mockingly. The voice was back, the same voice that had been following her since the beginning of her journey in this strange subterranean world. At first the human hadn’t thought much of it, after all if she had landed in a hole inhabited by anthropomorphic goats with fire magic, little voices in her head that occasionally gave helpful advice was probably the most normal thing to happen in this particular situation. It was weird, but it was nice to have some company. That is until their suggestions started to take on a, darker tone. After exiting the Ruins and making their way to the inviting warmth that was Snowdin Town, the young woman had encountered several formidable enemies. Those battles had been difficult, testing her endurance and ability to think on her feet. More than once had her impatience and recklessness caused her to meet her end, it was only her strange ability to turn back the clock that allowed her to be where she was now. Each time it happened it felt like waking up from a bad dream, an experience she hated no matter how many times it happened. Despite this the girl still tried to end these battles peacefully, Toriel had showed her the kindness they were capable of and in turn she wished to return it and show monsters that she was not here to hurt them. Her companion on the other hand had seen things differently, growing more and more frustrated with each defeat. Insisting that taking a more aggressive approach was the best course of action and that a hardy swing of the toy knife she’d picked up would have been enough to scare her opponents away, or better yet getting rid of them altogether. It was then the human decided that she didn’t like this voice anymore. The monsters had hurt her yes, but unlike Flowey they were never malicious. They’d talked about taking her soul to the king and how it was the last one they needed to finally be free. At the time Frisk hadn’t fully understood what that meant, but she was smart enough to conclude that the monsters were being “trapped” by something and they believed that she had what they needed to escape. They weren’t evil, just desperate. And that was enough to solidify her decision to keep showing them kindness, she couldn’t truly die anyway so she might as well put this “gift” to good use and see if she could help. At that the voice grew distant and cold, leaving her to fend for herself until she ended up in another taxing battle that had her struggling to stay alive. When this happened they always sounded delighted, as if they enjoyed her pain while they tried to persuade her into indulging in some “well deserved payback” as they put it. But she refused. She was not a killer and they did not deserve to die for wanting to be free. Reading the prophecy in Waterfall the first time had left her with a number of emotions to shift through; anger at the humans of the past for their actions came the quickest. Sadness soon followed at the realization of what they had done to monster kind set in and last was a peculiar happiness that she had followed her instincts and continued to spare those that tried to fight her. (F) What do you want? As if I didn’t know already. Rolling her eyes at her luck. (V) Oh, someone’s feeling snarky at the moment. The monsters giving you trouble? Are you finally beginning to see things my way? It honestly disgusted Frisk to notice how they didn’t even try to hide that sick, sadistic glee in their words. (F) Fat-chance Casper, now piss off! She shouted back. The sparks of anger igniting the fire in her soul and prompted her to release the hold on her upper arms, now swinging them as her stride grew longer, faster and with purpose. (V) Come now gumdrop you know as well as I do that this goody two-shoes act has only gotten you killed a dozen times over and steady migraine. If I were in charge we would have been at Asgore’s doorstep a long time ago. (F) Well then it’s a good thing your not then isn’t it? The human hissed back. (V) Such an idiotic, pathetic little thing you are. Too weak and stupid to comprehend that— Okay now that got the young woman’s attention, this pain in the ass poltergeist never passed up the opportunity to insult her and they never cut themselves off in the middle of one either. Halting her advance Frisk scoped out the immediate area, whatever had the voice on edge she needed to keep an eye out for it. At the moment the girl found herself in a deserted hallway, seeing nothing other than the same deep blue stone that made up this portion of the Underground. (F) Okay either the threat is invisible or this is your new way of fucking with me, she told them as she continued to search. (V) Get out of here. NOW. The demand was loud, reverberating in her mind and disorienting her to the point where she almost lost her footing. Shouting in pain she clutched at her head, screwing her eyes shut before taking a few deep breaths to help ride out the intense throbbing between her eyes. “I don’t understand what are you so…” Frisk trailed off. With her eyelids open just a crack she could see something shimmering on the on wall to her left. “What is—” (V) STAY AWAY FROM THAT! They screamed at her. “FUCKING HELL! Again!” The sheer force enough this time that she indeed fell to her knees in front of the shimmer. “Quit doing that!” Blood racing through her veins she waited until her pulse was calm before she rose to her feet. Blinking she looked for the shimmer, but was surprised to see that it had vanished. “What? But it was just here” gasped Frisk. (V) Well it’s not here any more. Let’s go. (F) I don’t think so. Narrowing her gaze in defiance the young woman scanned the wall for the telltale glimmer from before. (V) No I forbid it! The voice practically growled with anger. (F) Yeah well you can take your forbid and shove it up your—there! Quickly Frisk rushed forward to where she saw the shift in the light, keeping both eyes squinted to insure that the thing she now recognized as a grey door remain in her sights. (V) YOU IDIOT I SWEAR IF YOU OPEN THAT DOOR I’LL TEAR APART YOUR MIND UNTIL YOU DON’T HAVE EVEN A SHRED OF SANITY LEFT! This was practically a banshee’s screech within the confines of Frisk’s mind, one that should have left her a crumpled mess on the dirt floor had her determination to see what was in this new room not been so high. Whatever was in there scared no, terrified the voice and that meant one of two things. It was either an object, maybe an ally that could possibly help her get rid of them or it was a horrible monstrosity that would kill her and be able to make the death a permanent one. There was no way of knowing what the outcome would be, but anything was better then going on as she was. So with as much determination as she could the human grabbed the knob and twisted it open before propelling herself forward. She stumbled, nearly falling to the ground again but was able to catch herself at the last second. She prepared for the onslaught of the voice’s tirade but in the back of her head she could only hear a faint buzzing each time they tried to speak. (F) Okay not sure what this place is, but I like it already, she mused taking in the light grey walls of the short hall she was in that lead to an equally small grey room. Then she spotted something strange, at the center of the grey room was a large mound of what could only be described as ink. And it was moving. (F) Who or what is that? The buzzing grew louder but she ignored it in favor of slowly making her way to the black mass, she stopped two feet away from it in case it decided to get violent and in a gentle voice she called to it. “Hey, excuse me who are you?” The black mass seemed to jump, not expecting someone to speak to it. As swiftly as its liquid form could manage it turned to face the human, revealing a white skull-like face that was cracked in two places. The first extended from its left eye to the corner of its open mouth, while the other stretch upwards from its half closed right eye to the back of its head. When it saw her Frisk could have sworn it let out a strangled gasp as it stared at her in shocked. Then the strangest of sounds like the kind a computer would make came tumbling out of its mouth, while two boney hands moved in tune with the sounds. “I’m sorry I don’t understand,” she told him sadly. Frantically they moved their hands faster, the noises they were making almost desperate as they tried to get her to understand. “I’m sorry, I really am but I can’t understand what you’re saying.” It was heartbreaking to see their face fall at her confession; they looked so hopeless and miserable. They stopped making the noises yet their hands continued to move, though now at a slower, more easy to follow pace. “Weird it’s almost like you’re… speaking in hands,” her realization ending in a whisper as she stared at the mysterious monster’s perpetually moving fingers. Let’s see if I still remember how to do this. Kneeling down before them Frisk slowly began to sign out letters. (F) {Hello my name is Frisk. Who are you?} When the monster caught sight of her message they froze, even their busy hands stilling at their surprise. After what felt like an eternity they responded in a similar fashion. (G) {Hello Frisk my name is Wing Dings Gaster.} The buzzing was getting worse now but that didn’t matter, they could communicate, she could talk to Gaster! Now she just had to find out what he was doing here. Giving him a warm smile she continued with her questions. (F) {Can you tell me what this place is? I’ve never seen it before.} (G) {It is part of a place known only as the void. A sort of parallel dimension that shadows this world.} (F) Well damn this is some real life science fiction now. The shock must have shown on her as Gaster’s cracked mouth rose into an amused smile. (F) {How did you get here?} And just like that the smile slipped away to be replaced by a troubled frown. (G) {A lab experiment gone wrong, it brought me here with no way to escape.} (F) {What about the door? Can’t you just go through?} (G) {Even if I did I no longer fully exist in their world. No one can see or hear me. Except you.} (F) {Is there anything I—} Frisk didn’t get to finish that question as the horrible buzzing struck her again, only this time she could hear the voice. (V) I WARNED YOU. The human screamed in pain, grabbing her head as wave after wave of agony came crashing down upon her. Somewhere among the torrent of suffering she registered the feeling of hands carefully clasping her shoulders. Forcing her hazel orbs to open she looked into the dark sockets of Gaster, his white pupils flying over her features as he tried to find what was causing her such distress. In numb awe she watched as he called her soul forward, the typically bright red heart now dim as another heart, this one tattered and as black as tar attempted to snuff out her lights. At the sight Gaster seemed to go through a thousand different emotions at once until his features settled into a look she knew all too well. The look of determination. Nodding to himself the strange goopy skeleton man summoned his own soul, the brilliance of the inverted heart shining proudly in its dull surroundings. Then without warning he sent it forward, crashing into Frisk like two colliding atoms and the room erupted into a blinding white light.

This literally took me all half of yesterday and all of today to finish. Also despite being a frans shipper and the nature of this situation I’m gunna put who Frisk actually ends up with up to you guys. I kinda wanna see if you guys will pick Gatser or not and I can maybe treat this like a reverse effect when people write soriel but still have Frisk wanting to be with him. I love Sans but some times that mother fucker needs a taste of his own medicine >:D Let me know what you guys think.