#i was just thinking about the one where ash is being controlled by the witches and rolled with it

[desultory-novice]

I have a headcanon/theory I wanna run past you. It revolves around Marx, but there's A LOT of lead-up to it, so buckle up: Given what we know about alternate dimensions, rifts between them, and the nature of Elfilis' abilities, it's probable that the setting of Forgotten Land is not merely an Earth a long distance away from Pop Star. Rather, the fact that Shiver Star fills that niche already could imply that it and the New World are alternate universe versions of the same planet.

(Which means there's a fair chance there's an alternate Pop Star equivilent out there too, but more on that later.)

Elfilin & co. crossing over from a different universe would also explain why Kirby's home dimension doesn't have much history with a being like Fecto Elfilis. You'd think a hostile multiversal conqueror would be more of a Big Fucking Deal back in the day, but once the Ancients developed warp tech they just ditched it along with their planet and moved on to greener pastures.

Perhaps one reason the Ancients were split into two distinct camps was because the science-users from another dimension joined up with the magic-users from this one? This is just spitballing — but the point I'm trying to lead up to is that alternate universe counterparts may be similar in some respects but radically different in others: from mere pallette swaps to differences on a conceptual level (like science vs. magic).

Given that the full scope of Fecto Elfilis' abilities is different to most anything we've seen, it's safe to say that they run on a different power source than, say, Dark Matter does. Out of the four components of Void the progenitor — Dream, Dark, Soul, and Heart — if Dark Matter embodied, well, Dark, and whatever Morpho Knight's schtick is toys with Soul, then perhaps there are those such as Fecto Elfilis who hold dominion over Dream. Or over nightmare. Who can say?

Also Ripple Star is literally a giant fucking heart. Whether it's in the same dimension as Pop Star or not (since the Crystal makes star-shaped rifts as you pointed out) is up for debate, but Ripple Star's environment is a lot like Popstar's, having many of the same enemies and similar design. Maybe different worlds have different balances of the four humours i dunno.

Actually, yeah! Maybe different parallel dimensions come with a different balance/power dynamic! If Ripple Star is indeed a Heart-coded iteration of Pop Star instead of a Dream-coded one, then maybe the clade Fecto Elfilis belongs to is an antagonistic threat on par with Dark Matter within their reality of origin. Similar in concept, yet radically different.

With all of this context in mind, let's get to to the point I was originally trying to make. Take a look at the geometric style of wings posessed by 0² and especially Void Termina. Now take a look at Marx's wings.

Similar, yet radically different.

This is straying into pure headcanon territory, but I don't think Marx comes from our Pop Star at all.

Suddenly, a lot of things start clicking into place. His desire for control. The desire to remake Pop Star the way he wants it. His out-of-context nature compared with most other antagonists who are Dark Matter-affiliated or Dark Matter-adjacent (i mean, even Dark Crafter implies some link with those arts n' crafts witches). Marx is most certainly not tied to Dark Matter, but he could very well be tied to Something Matter, right? (Plus that one spin-off manga where I think he insists that he and Kirby were childhood friends??)

Basically Fanfic At This Point, But Picture This: Perhaps the New World wasn't the first planet Fecto Elfilis had invaded and rained destruction upon. Perhaps, before moving on to the New World, it first invaded the Pop Star equivilent that Marx once belonged to. Perhaps unlucky Marx was one of the few creatures left alive when the ashes finally settled. Perhaps he went hunting for a desperate hope. Maybe he made a deal with the devil; maybe he got those wings another way. Maybe he even went a little mad.

Perhaps this is when Magolor first meets him; invites him aboard. Tells a tale to Marx about clockwork stars from another era, in another universe.

Perhaps its best that Marx never gets to know Elfilin.

Cool Marx asks for Christmas! Hooray! Thank you...!

-"Alternate universes of the same planet..." Someone else who loves the alternate planets/same planet, different dimension theory to explain the New World and Shiver Star discrepancies! Yes, yes! I agree completely!

-"Distinct camps..." Ooh! That is a FASCINATING reason for two such divergent groups as scientists and magic users coming together! It reminds me that I've got a Parallel Halcandra theory of my own! (Although in my case, I've toyed with the parallel theory to explain what happened to it, rather than how it was formed.) But I really like your take on it too!

-Fecto Elfilis and Dream Matter being in the same sphere sounds pretty darn sensible to me! And yes, Ripple Star and Pop Star both being... for lack of a better phrase "children's cereal marshmallow shapes" almost has to lead to some kind of connection! (Love the idea that Eflilis is SOME universe's Dark Matter!)

-"Marx isn't from our Pop Star" Oh gosh! This is such a cool idea! It plays into all the fun of the various Mirror Marxs people have created, but leaves room for so many different and interesting angles!

-

Tangent, but one of my favorite retro RPGs is Tales of Phantasia. The bad guy is this fairly generic seeming pretty boy "Demon King" who just goes around wrecking the world and leading an army of monsters, yadda yadda. But the more of the story you uncover, the more you realize he's only attacking technologically advanced cities. And those cities only got to be advanced by syphoning power from the world's Mana Tree. By this point, the protagonists are pretty much locked into having to destroy him (time travel is involved) but toward the very end, you realize he isn't a "demon" he's an interstellar traveler from another planet. He's, in fact, the last survivor of his planet. An environmental scientist-type who campaigned to get his people to stop killing their Mana Tree, only to fail. His planet was utterly destroyed afterwards, and only he escaped. He just wanted to keep the protagonist's people from destroying their planet (and maybe find a way to save what was left of his) but miscommunication led to a war and him being demonized by the people...!

N-not saying Marx had such pure intentions, but I love that the possibility exists that his conflicts with the people of Pop Star come from those came kinds of misunderstandings! That he would wish on a star to get HIS Pop Star back!

I've been thinking of parallels to make the friend trio of Marx, Magolor, and Taranza make more sense, since while I adore the idea of the three of them interacting, both Magolor and Taranza have such history and pathos to them. I sort of liked the idea of Marx being the "Kagero Mansion" magician to balance things out, but this would maybe be an even better start for them to have more in common!

Thank you so much for this! I really enjoyed it! (The lead up was awesome too! So many great ideas!)

[voices-ringing-out]

@grccvy​ said,  ‘ stay down, or i’ll make you drown in your own blood. ’ 

      Dean coughed, crimson spattering the ground in front of him as he struggled onto his hands and knees. All he could taste was copper, and he could barely see the man standing over him - vision blurred with blood and a pounding pain thrumming inside his head. He didn’t need to see to know who it was though. 

      If only losing his vision made it easier to intuit just why Ash was acting the way that he was.

      Barging into the safe house ranting about how sick he was of Dean and Sam, even the threats, could have been explained away by perhaps a high amount of stress or blackmail. But this? How brutal he was being?

      It had to be possession of some calibre. It just had to be. 

      Now wasn’t the time to consider it though. Right now, Dean had been knocked onto the ground for what felt like the hundredth time, bruises already blooming against his skin and blood both his and Ash’s covering his clothes and hands. He halted where he was, on his hands and knees, when Ash gave the order.

      After a few moments of hesitation, Dean continued rising until he was settled on his knees, hands hanging loosely at his sides as he fixed his gaze on Ash, a tangle of anger and pain fighting for dominance in his chest. “Oh yeah? Then what, Ashley? What’re you gonna do after that? Go back to whoever’s got you wrapped ‘round their little finger like a good little puppy? C’mon, man, you used to be stronger than this.”

[bloomyagi]

bleed me dry (m)

summary: where Itadori is your bottom-loving boyfriend and Sukuna reluctantly learns this vessel is the real curse. or: where seduction is a dangerous game, and the King of Curses loses.

pairings: itadori x f!reader, sukuna x f!reader

warnings: subby itadori, sub sukuna (yeah you read that right), light bondage, blindfolds, sukuna’s havin a whole ‘reconsidering life’s meaning’ moment, lotta swear cause u know sukuna things, coming untouched, he faints (yeah you also read that right) and is actually unabashed about it, all things considered

length: 1,432

notes: what? me? obsessed with jjk? that doesn’t sound like me at all! 

.

.

.

His vessel is in love.

The word curdles in his mouth, tastes like ash. He has never known such a thing. It is part of his nature, he muses absently. Hardened from centuries of death and decay. Of destruction and war. He revels in it. Feels the most alive amongst the chaos.

But that’s the point. Curses can feel. They can have emotional attachment. Can’t you see? In so many ways, they’re not so different from us. He thinks you’re too loud. Your thoughts and beliefs are too loud. They’re also pointless and naïve, and he likes to pop by just to drive it home.

Hello, Sukuna. Where is the fear? Where is the resentment, the anger? The disgust? He enjoys it. But you—you just sit there and coax him into conversation like he’s another one of your classmates. Like he can’t crush your windpipe with a single flick of his hand. Like he isn’t the slow bleed of a death sentence for your lover. Like he isn’t anything at all. Like his titles and powers are stripped. What is he beyond it all? Who is he?

You ask about him sometimes. He rarely gives any indication he’s listening, but he does. Of course he does. There’s not much to do, bound and locked in this pink-haired boy. He lounges on this throne and watches his vessel pine and blush.

Sukuna watches his vessel fuck his fist and mewl your name every night.

It’s sad. “Brat,” he hisses. “Grow some balls. This is just pathetic.”

Itadori swallows. “Oh. Can you—?”

Sukuna shoves him off the ledge. A faint yelp travels, followed by a large splash. “Fuck her already. All this sitting and plotting is making my ass itch. If you won’t, I will.”

“You wouldn’t.” Sukuna tilts his head to peer down. Itadori’s eyes are narrowed, uncharacteristically solemn.

His lips bare into a slow grin. “Try me.”

Itadori blinks once. And then vanishes.

.

.

.

Fuck. It’s the only coherent thought his muddled mind can pierce together. He gazes down at his palm, opening and closing languidly. His vision is blurry, spine tingling. He raises the other hand, reaching for his palm.

Mmm. He shakes his head firmly. The sharp tinge of metallic and iron coating his tongue clears the fog a little. The pain fades quickly, muted from his years of conquest and ruin.

Every nerve is on fire. His skin, this flesh cage, burns, an unfamiliar heat curling in his lower stomach. Sukuna is no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh—is well-acquainted, spent much of the centuries indulging in his vast harems. In the haze of blood and carnage, there is the memory of writhing bodies, of soft thighs and breasts, of glazed eyes and cries of his name. Of women fucked into wanton abandon, bred and lost in the worship of his cock.

But this. This heat is foreign in every sense. In its strange intensity and all-encompassing hold. All his senses are heightened but laser focused on the other pair of hands mapping his body. On the addicting sensations they’re inducing.

Can you—? Yes. Yes, he fucking can. He can feel everything and he wants to wrap his hand around your throat and squeeze.

His eyes roll back. Ngh.

“Fucking wench,” he snarls. You’re a fuckin’ tease and if you edge him again, he is going to murder—

“Ah, ah. Watch your language, Sukuna. Ask nicely.”

He jolts. Finds his eyes cloaked in darkness, arms tied to his back and legs spread. Bare, save for a pair of briefs that’s slick and restricting. Kneeling. The sheets bunch beneath him. Every muscle in his body is tensed, body coated in a thin layer of sweat.

This position—!

“That brat—mmph!” Is that a fucking—gag? Did you just gag him? He struggles harder against the binds, but he feels your lips curl into a smile where you’re suckling against the column of his neck.

“You’re powerless here. The binds will restrict you for the next twenty-four hours … unless you can be good.” You trace the thick knots, smiling only growing at the way he lets out a muffled growl.

Every fucking sense is heightened tenfold. He’s on firefirefire. The flames consuming him inside out, like he’s being exorcised from within.  

It’s humiliating. It’s exhilarating. It feels—

“King of Curses. I want you to beg.” You’re a witch. You’re enthralling. Temptation incarnate. His head falls forward, chest heaving.

“Mmmmf!”

“What a dirty mouth,” you murmur, and his struggling is renewed when he feels your fingers dig into his thighs.

Oi, brat, he growls. What the hell is this?

His vessel is silent, but the back of his mind prickles. He’s watching. That freaky little shit.

“So stubborn. Let go. You’re good at that, aren’t you?” Fuckfuckfuck, you’re palming his cock over the thin fabric. Maybe it’s been a while, maybe there’s a little more truth lurking beneath it, but he vaguely notes he’s never been so hard before.

You—! You’re fuckin’ burning his briefs off. Ash tickles his nose. A small part of him thinks it’s hot. His cock throbs, and even without visual confirmation, he knows you’ve paused at the sheer size. His mouth curls into a lopsided smirk, dark pride making his chest swell. What was he so worked up for? You’ll just end being another one of his breeding bitches, fucked stupid by his thick, long cock.

But then you pinch his left nipple, twisting harshly. Electricity courses through him and a sound he’s never heard in his absurdly long life escape his lips, muffled by the gag. His back arcs, head hitting the mattress beneath him.

His mind blanks, eyes rolling back as white noise fills his ears.

.

.

.

He rouses slowly.

He blinks lethargically at the ceiling, gaze unfocused. Everything feels muted, limbs heavy like he’s swimming in a pool of ink. But he’s not restrained anymore. There’s a blur of movement in the corner of his eye.

He turns his head to peer at you, half-lidded.

“That’s a very nice expression,” you chuckle, moving to sit by his side. The mattress dips lightly. He lifts a hand to tug at the hem of your outfit, expression twisting at the staggering movement.

“That’s a very nice look on you,” he murmurs in response. You’re wearing one of his vessel’s dress shirts, the oversized fabric falling mid-thigh. It simultaneously swallows you and presses against your curves. Something inside him stirs. His throat feels shot, even though he knows he hasn’t had much of a chance to speak.

You help him sit up, propped against the headrest, before offering him a glass of water. His lips lift into a half-smirk and you sigh, shaking your head but acquiescing. You take a mouthful before kissing him. Water dribbles down his chin.

You wipe it away with a half-fond, half-exasperated expression. His chest tightens.

“How long—?” He tries to move, but you stop him with a firm hand. He’s conflicted at the way his body responds immediately to the touch. His temperature flares despite his obvious fatigue.

“A few hours. I asked if Yuuji would keep you out until you woke.”

There’s a pause, and the knowing look in your eye tells him you know he’s mulling it over.

And then—

He reaches for you, and you set the glass aside to climb on his lap.

He bares his fangs. “Then let’s make the most of it.”

As you press him into the bed, tongue stroking his in such a manner his brain is starting to haze over again quickly, he thinks, brat, we’re going to have a long talk after this.

Sukuna doesn’t expect an answer after his vessel’s continued vigil, so he starts when Itadori replies, she’s ours.

I don’t share, he slurs. He thinks he sees a flicker of Itadori’s grin.

You’re going to have to. Because you like her, too. And she’s the one in control, not either of us.

Dimly, Sukuna acknowledges he’s right. You might be the one bouncing on his cock, but he’s not the one fucking you, you’re the one fucking him.

Fine, he gasps as you run your nails down his abdomen. Deal.

Good, his vessel says. Because I’m next, and you better not get in the way.

He growls, eyebrows knitting.

Your smile only grows.

[somewhereinneptune]

All about your next friend!

Me posting a pac? No way, but heyyy! Hope everyone reading this is okay!! I'm sorry it took a long time, I had to tend to my energy and self as I was having symptoms of a burnout. I hope you enjoy this PAC, it's going to be focused on your next friend! I apologize this reading is short but I'm still trying to regain energy and connect with my intuition

If you don't know how this works :

We have three piles here (from the left is pile 1,2, and 3!) Feel free to pick the pile or pic that resonates with you or that you are called to. If you're attracted to more than one pile it means there's a message in more than one pile for you and if you don't feel drawn at all, it means there are no messages here and that's okay!

Pile 1

Your next friend's vibe/ energy :

Someone who doesn't give up easily and doesn't like giving up, failure, setbacks and blocksges. They're mature about it though because they realize failing is required and failing is what gets us to succeed but this person doesn't like it in a sense they don't like dwelling on it because they just wanna keep going. When something goes wrong, instead of judging themselves they think "what went wrong here? And how can I avoid this mistake next time? How can I do better?" . Same with worry and overthinking; just like any other person, they get in this energy but they are the type to immediately think of solutions to get out of it and not let it affect them. This person seems to be the one that loves being on the go, on the move and doesn't like to pause. They are also someone who isn't interested in exploring their inner deeper parts, in soul searching and soul finding or in the deeper sides of things, they just like to keep going and they seem to see life as an adventure.

This person looooves exploring. They love traveling and they want to visit all parts of the world and know about their culture and language and food, they love beauty and might have a fine taste for things , a good eye, and for beauty it could be many things : nature? Flowers? Make up? Fashion? Gardening? , Might like to spoil themselves and/ or finer things in life. They love to be in charge, project leader? The one who has control. Gambling also came to mind and they also might do something with their hands, some sort of craft and it could be a craft or talent that runs in the family or that they got from their ancestors or grandparents, might have their own business or shop, they work a lot , afraid to admit they need a deep connection with someone (platonic, romantic or both) for romantic, they're afraid love could take them away from their work. Aries and Sagittarius energy .

When / where you might meet them :

Leo season, scorpio season, Sagittarius season, winter time, park, reading a book (either you or them), laboratory, after a transformative event/ time/ cycle, might take a while

Pile 2

Rising straight from the ashes type. Very strong and might pride themselves for being strong, they're just so good at picking themselves up and when they're down , they don't stay down for long, they don't let themselves get beaten up by the world. Successful and they make sure they stay that way. They don't take defeat lightly, not at all ; if they mess up then it really affects them so they make sure they're always doing well and always being presentable and showing up the way they wanna show up . Might be a perfectionist or an overachiever. On the flip side, they have such a nice balance of- they're in touch with their emotions and they're emotionally mature but they know how to balance it out in a way it doesn't backfire on them. Practical, calm, collected , did i mention strong and successful? Earth and water energy

This person could be a writer, writing novels or music ; they write their pain out , they channel the pain and turn it to art, they heal through writing, they have a message to spread out to the world, very deep person. They could be some sort of a teacher , a witch or spiritual person. They want a deep intellectual connection, a connection where they talk about deep things, share philosophical ideas, talk about the world, transform and enlighten one another and expand one another's mind. A great manifestor and they have a thing for proving people wrong "you think i can't do that? Bitch I'll show you" , prove to themselves they can reach heights and make their life better and better, might like swords

When and where you might meet them :

Concert, Ted talk, lecture, after a problem is solved or something has settled, Libra season, rainy day, after an exhausting day, they stand or approach as you're somewhere lost in your thoughts, napping in a park lmao , watching you

Pile 3

Love reading books a lot, mysterious and keep to themselves, change their looks and personality a lot, healing and exploring their inner self, might be curious, deep thinker, only child and might come from a rich family, someone who's grown up not having friends and might still don't but Also someone who craves a companion and someone who understands them, not in touch with their emotions and not very optimistic, very very intelligent their mind is their strength, very intuitive

They like reading books, being by themselves, reading a book by the fireplace or having tea by the fireplace deep in thought, they love storms and thunder, they love listening to people and consoling them or giving solutions and advice , the therapist friend. Their life is very calm and don't have lots of excitingstuff , nothing much happening . They're so different from pile 1, they love to keep to themselves and not explore or try new things, they love researching especially about history or lost civilizations, unraveling secrets , they love sitting by the water .

They give me fictional character vibe 😭

When or where you might them :

Capricorn season, aquarius season, after a breakthrough (spiritual or financial) , after wrapping up a major cycle that has kept you stuck for such a long time, afraid and not believing in yourself, for some after you move/ travel or start something like a venture, after pursuing your dream. Is there something you've been trying to do that has been super difficult? Have you been stuck for such a long time? You might meet this person after you trust yourself and go for it, after feeling fulfilled, after choosing yourself or doing something for yourself, maybe cloudy weather

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 1

... I have no self-control do not perceive me

Marinette stared at the pile of bright red, yellow, and green clothes on the ground. It was all she’d done in the five-ish minutes since she’d portaled onto the scene. Just… stared.

It wasn’t like there was much else to do, anyways. Red Robin was currently beating the absolute fuck out of the person that had the audacity to disintegrate his brother right in front of him. It wasn’t like she could even fix it because the witch had been out cold before she had been able to pull Red Robin off to get a hit in so she could use her lucky charm.

So, she stared.

It was weird. She could almost feel a person inside the clothes but… maybe that was the residue or the ashes or whatever gets left behind when you zap a person out of existence? She didn’t really want to check, to be honest. Gross.

Eventually, though, she hesitantly leaned down and brushed her hand over it, trying to find the energy and get rid of it because it was really uncomfortable --.

… oh hell no that pile of clothes did not just fucking giggle at her.

She narrowed her eyes and carefully lifted up the bottom of the shirt, only to yelp and fall back. She scrabbled on the gross Gotham alley ground until her back hit Red Robin’s arm and he was forced to pause or risk hitting a meta (which would not have been good for his health).

“What?” He hissed.

She swallowed thickly. “That’s a child.”

“... what?” Red asked, all the anger bleeding from his tone in his confusion.

“We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby,” she whispered… then, it sunk in more. “We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby.”

He straightened on top of the thing that was really more bloody pulp than person at this point. “What do you mean ‘we let Batman’s kid turn into a baby’?”

But she didn’t really get a chance to answer because the baby chose that exact moment to be sick of being suffocated under all the armor and pushed it off.

Red Robin gulped. Because, yep, that was Robin as a baby. Batman was going to kill them.

Except he wasn’t going to kill them. Because Batman doesn't kill. No, Batman would find something even worse and that would suck.

The baby -- Robin? Should she still call him that mentally? -- giggled at their pain. Like an asshole.

They were so fucked.

~

He’d let B’s favorite kid get turned into a baby. Was there a way to get unadopted? Because if there was it was totally going to happen. Or maybe his dad would just cut him off because he was 19 now and could just get kicked out.

No. Nope! Not going to happen. No. He could fix this.

“Okay. Okay okay okay. We need a plan,” he heard himself saying.

Ladybug scoffed. “We? I was barely even here, this is on you.”

“Leave me alone to deal with this and I swear to god I will tell B that you did it.”

She paled. “You wouldn’t. No way.”

“Yes way. So, help me think of something.”

The baby giggled and started crawling over and both of them averted their eyes because, unfortunately, the child did not get baby clothes to go with his random transformation. Baby Damian didn't seem to care as he reached them and started climbing on Ladybug since she was closest. At least it wasn’t him. He did not want to see his adoptive brother’s… ew.

Ladybug made a gagging sound and then quickly summoned a lucky charm. She kept her face turned away as much as her neck would physically allow as she fumbled her way through swaddling the child in a polka-dotted blanket.

And then her shoulders slumped a little. “Great. Great. This is… great,” she muttered, picking up the bundle o’ baby.

He let himself look down now that it was safe.

“Alright, we need to go to another dimension where time moves faster,” Ladybug said after a few seconds. “And then we wait for him to age… fifteen-ish years. Best way to not make Batman notice.”

“... what about us? We also age.”

“Huh…? Oh. Right. You’re human.” She pulled off the glasses she was wearing and blinked a few times before handing it over. “Congrats on your upgrade. The tiny horse god is named Kaalki. She likes cake.”

“The tiny --?” He let out the world’s manliest screech as his eyes landed on the floating bug horse hybrid thing holy shit no no no no no the sci fi movies didn’t prepare him for this shit.

Kaalki looked a little offended but then her eyes landed on the baby and she gasped. “Aw, baby humans are always so cute.”

“Great, Kaalki, you take it,” said Ladybug.

Kaalki did try, to her credit. It just so happened that the approximately one-year-old baby was a lot bigger than the… whatever she was. Tim was refusing to believe that this was a god. Too many implications. He already had something to have a breakdown over, he didn’t need another thing right now, thank you very much.

Tim rested his head in his hands but he had more things to worry about than the blood that he was accidentally streaking through his hair.

“Okay. Okay. We can go to another dimension and try and raise him. Maybe we can make it have a ratio of one month here for every year there so any differences could be blamed on that.”

“Ya!” Said baby Damian. He probably didn’t actually know what was going on but he sure seemed excited so that was cool.

Ladybug sighed and nodded. “Great. You get food and money and clothes and I’ll take this lady to the cops… and I guess I’ll watch the kid until you get back because your dad cannot know.”

They shook on it.

~

This may be the dumbest idea that she’d ever had, and that was saying something. She didn’t know if she could trust Red Robin on this one, they hardly ever worked together. What if he just left her alone with this kid and let her try and figure this out on her own?

No. He wouldn’t do that. He was the last person known to be with Robin. Robin going missing would be bad for him, too. And, besides, she was pretty sure that he was a duty-driven person based on what she’d heard, she just had to hope that he saw this as his duty, too.

She turned the baby in her arms to get more comfortable as she waited for him to (hopefully) come back.

Part of her wanted to try and find someone from this world to reverse this but she didn’t know any outside of her, Adrien, Alix, and (now) Red Robin. Not on a personal level. Not enough that she knew for sure that they wouldn’t blab to Batman about it.

So, no, this is what she was doing.

But she had things to do. So, she pulled out her yoyo-phone-hybrid-thingy and wedged it against her ear.

“Chaton,” she said the moment he picked up. “You’re alone, right?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Great. I, Ladybug, relinquish the Miracle Box and name Chat Noir the new guardian.”

“WHAT --?!” He didn’t get to finish as a box dropped on his lap and knocked the wind out of him.

“Just for, like, a year and a half. Sorry. Bye!”

“DON’T JUST ‘BYE’ ME WHAT THE --?!”

She hung up and closed the yoyo, hooking it back to her belt and ignoring it when it started buzzing again.

She looked down at Robin, who was squinting up at her. She returned the squint. Why was this baby so quiet? She didn’t get it. Surely, he should have been crying at this point.

“Do you still… remember things?” She asked, hoping against all hope that maybe he had retained his memories at the very least.

Robin smiled at her, but it was the blank-eyed baby smile that meant he wasn’t really understanding her. She bit down a curse.

Great. So, she’d not only gotten a baby but she’d gotten a fucking weird one. Great.

~

Tim left a note for his family saying that he, Damian, and Ladybug were bored and were going dimension hopping. His family would probably be suspicious but, hey, at least it wouldn’t be his problem for a good fifteen years on his end.

And, yeah, he knew this was probably one of his dumber plans but… it wasn’t the dumbest. And he was always one to commit when it came down to it. One time he had faked being shot and dealt with crutches for an entire year just to convince Vicki Vale that he wasn’t Red Robin. He had no fears that he couldn’t see this through.

Ladybug, though? A total mystery. She did nearly everything on a whim as far as he knew. She hopped from city to city fighting crime for absolutely no reason outside of boredom and made up all of her plans on the fly. No, he was a bit concerned about her ability to keep doing it.

So, he went as quickly as he possibly could. There was no rhyme or reason to what he was grabbing. He was just… putting stuff in there. There was money and three watches to help them move between dimensions, yes, but there was also a fanta orange and a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy and exactly seven pairs of socks.

… yeah, he had the necessities. Probably.

He nearly got out the door before he realized he was still in his crime-fighting gear and he quickly shucked it all off and tossed it into the tub so the blood wouldn’t track any more than it already had. He did not need to avoid Batman’s wrath only to end up on the receiving end of Alfred’s.

He pulled on the first hoodie and jeans he could grab and looked around to make sure he hadn’t left anything of importance.

Okay. Now he was ready to go.

~

Marinette was awkwardly bouncing the baby when Red Robin finally showed up.

… not that she would have recognized him if she hadn’t felt Kaalki hovering in his pocket. In her eyes, he was just a random white guy wearing shades in the middle of the night.

She glanced up at him and gave him an awkward smile.

“Ready?”

He smiled back and held out two watches. Neither fit baby Robin so she prepared herself to choke out a literal baby holy fuck what even was her life.

“Which dimension should we go to?”

“Preferably one without miraculi,” Marinette said. “I don’t want to know what happens if there’s two of the same god in a dimension.”

He nodded slowly. “Probably best if Batman doesn’t exist, either, he’d probably notice my existence.”

“... so… no heroes at all?”

“Looks like we’re going cold turkey,” Red Robin said in a tone that was probably supposed to be joking but just came out flat.

She pushed herself to her feet and waited as he scrolled through the millions of dimensions.

Finally, he came upon one and she added the coordinates to her and Robin’s watches.

She readied Robin’s watch against his neck and tried to ignore the kid’s sudden squirminess.

“3… 2… 1…”

They were gone in a whirl of blue light.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses

[wicked-mind]

From The Ashes

Summary: The last time you saw Bucky and Steve was in the 1940’s. Now that you’re somehow in the present with them confused on how, the truth is going to come out eventually.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Swearing, death and revival.

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

“What are we doing?” Bucky asked towards Steve as they stood in the elevator waiting to get to the floor to the briefing room. They had been called up by Sam in an urgent matter.

Steve looks at Bucky, his arms folded across his chest, “Not sure. Sam just said it was urgent.” He said, his face like stone but behind those blue eyes sat a hint of worry about what the situation could entail. Once the elevators door opened, Steve lead the way to the briefing room and looked at Sam, “What’s going o-“ His words cut off when he realized Sam wasn’t alone in the room and behind him in the chair sat a woman he had seen before but not since the 1940’s.

Bucky was right behind him but he saw the woman before Steve and froze behind him. Those eyes… He would know them anywhere. They’ve snuck into his dreams many times before and it always made a deep ache in his heart. Only Steve knew about what you meant to him. You were his doll. His sweetheart. His best and only girl. He had tried to figure out what became of you when he escaped the grasp of Hydra but all he could figure out is that you seemed to pass away in a house fire. He scanned you over, his lips parted in disbelief, “Y/N?” He finally breathed out.

You smiled softly over towards the two, “Hello, Stevie.” You said before your eyes flickered to stare into Bucky’s, “Hi, Bucky.” The last time you had seen them was 1943 before Bucky was shipped off to England and Steve managed to somehow get accepted into the military. You knew how you ended up here decades later, but that was a secret only known to you. But you decided today was a good day to make your presence to them known since Bucky seemed to be doing better from what you saw on the news.

Steve was the first to move, walking towards you and sitting beside you in his own chair, “How are you here?” He asks softly, scanning over every part of your face to make sure it was really you.

When you were about to speak, Bucky interrupted walking over towards you but keeping a little distance between you, “How do we know it’s really you?” He asks, still on guard. It wasn’t everyday someone who had been thought dead just appears in the future. There’s only been a few people that happened to and he was one of them along with Steve.

You smiled over at Bucky, “Need proof, darlin?” You ask and watch his eyes soften at the pet name you used to call him, his posture relaxing a little from being on guard. They knew your secret. You held your hand out in front of you, palm up and a small flame suddenly appeared in your hand before you closed your palm, extinguishing it. Steve and Bucky were the only ones that knew of your enhanced abilities- Pyrokinesis. You could control and create fire with your mind. It was kept a secret because in the forties people saw those who were enhanced humans as some sort of sorcerer or a witch but once Bucky and Steve had caught you fiddling a flame on your fingers as you read, you came clean. You thought it would deter them from being friends with you, ruin your relationship with Bucky thinking he didn’t want to be with a freak. But that wasn’t the case. They both still accepted you.

As soon as the flame extinguished in your palm, Bucky immediately closed the distance and pulled you up from your seat into a tight hug. You swear you could hear him breathing jagged as if he was going to cry but not tears fell from his eyes, “How are you here?” He breathed out into your shoulder before releasing you, keeping his gloved hands on your shoulders as if to keep touching you to make sure you were real and this wasn’t some sort of sick dream.

You smiled softly at him, “I don’t know…” You said softly, a lie, before looking over to Steve, “The only thing I remember is that I just was here seven years ago. Then all the things happened with Thanos and the blip as I was learning how to live in this new time. I saw you two recently on the news, they talked about you two and Sam bringing down some super soldiers so I decided I should come say hello.”

Steve immediately offered you to live here at the facility with them, saying you could join their team if you wanted when you got up to leave. You accepted graciously, happy to be able to spend time with the two of them and catch up on everything you missed. You trained with them while also strengthening your ability. You had been keeping it on the down-low since you returned years ago and you needed to get your ability back into full force. But that wasn’t the only thing you had being strengthening. Your bond with Bucky was still as strong as ever and even though he had changed a lot from the man you knew, he was still the man you loved and with the way he looked at you, you knew he still loved you too though you hadn’t made any moves towards each other yet. Sometimes he would get close, wrapping his arms around you and staring into your eyes like he was going to kiss you, but he always just hugged you tightly and sighed in relief when you wrapped your arms around him.

You had begun to go on missions with them after two months of training, coming especially handy whenever enemies tried to use any type of explosive that you could easily contain and control with your power to manipulate fire. You even got a fancy high-tech suite that was fire resistant. You sat on the quinjet next to Bucky, listening at Steve went over the mission. He was going over everybody’s positions for the third time. You shifted in your seat a little which caught Bucky’s attention. His eyes scanned over you, “You alright?”

You looked up to Bucky and nodded with a slight smile, “Yeah, I’m okay.” You replied softly and returned your gaze to the floor as your brow pulled together. You had this weird feeling sit in your stomach, almost burning.

Bucky kept his gaze on you, watching you carefully. He knew everything about you including the way you looked when you were uncomfortable, “What is it?” He asks quietly as to not interrupt Steve going through the plan. He wanted more than anything to reach over and grab your hand… But he had been struggling with you being back. When he left you in 1943, he was a completely different person and was worried you wouldn’t like who he was now. He didn’t like who he was now, so how could you?

You kept your eyes on the floor, “I just have a bad feeling.” You responded quietly before tilting your head over to look at him to see him watching you with a concerned look spread across his features, “It’ll be fine though. I’m sure it’s just the jitters.” You sat up straighter and put a confident smile on your face.

Bucky nodded at you, “It’ll be fine. I’ll make sure it all goes according to plan. I got you.” He said and the corner of his lips curled upwards in a half smile as he placed a hand on your thigh to comfort you.

You smiled at his touch and nodded, “Thank you.” Then your gaze returned to Steve as he explained the rest of the mission. The organization known as A.I.M. consisted of terrorist arms dealers and scientists who specialized in advanced technological weaponry. Their main goal is to overthrow the world governments for their own gains and they had recently been creating chaos which is why the team was sent to deal with them at one of their bases and also steal some information on their weaponry.

You gripped onto your seat as the quinjet landed, swallowing hard. The feeling in your stomach hadn’t faded, if anything it had grown as if telling you this wasn’t going to end well. You stood from your seat and cracked your neck then followed by your knuckles. You were going to be the first one in with Bucky right behind you while Steve and Sam made sure nobody came for reinforcements. You walked down the quinjet ramp and saw the bunker a little less than half a mile away, starting to walk towards it slowly.

Noticing your hesitancy, Bucky followed you quickly until he walked beside you carrying his usual assault rifle. He stayed close, trying to just comfort you with his presence. Once you two got to the doors of the bunker, he looked down at you, “We are only here for the information. We just get it and get out.” He reminded.

You nodded before seeing redwing zoom beside them to scan the fake access code they received into the lock panel. You flicked her wrists and your hands immediately started to glow with flames circling around them. As soon as the door opened, you reached your hands out and flames erupted from your palms forward to take out the A.I.M. agents that were guarding the gate. With Bucky on your heels, the two of you started running down the corridor, taking care of anybody in your path. Once you got to the weapon room, your hands immediately extinguished from the fire and you started to look around for the information you needed while Bucky stood guard, “It’s not here…” You muttered out, rechecking every table and filing cabinet.

Bucky’s brow furrowed and he moved from the doorway to look with you. They were looking for a certain folder as well as a certain new weapon A.I.M. had created, “That’s impossible. Our inside guy said they’d be here.” He said, his eyes scanning every inch of the room. His head snapped towards the door as he heard footsteps, pulling you behind a pillar with him for cover.

You peeked around the pillar to see A.I.M agents flooding in, guns pointed directly at the pillar as if they already knew where you two were. Your hands ignited again and you started to chuck fireballs at the enemy agents, landing most of them, “Looks like our inside guy might’ve not been so much our guy. This was a set up.” You said softly. Bucky was focused on each target, firing spurts from his gun that hit every target but the A.I.M. agents kept flooding in, slowly cornering the both of you. You heard Bucky’s gun click as he ran out of rounds, “I hate that sound.” You told him before flinging another fireball at an approaching agent.

Bucky looked over at you for a split second, “Yeah, me too.” He grunted out before pulling out one of his knives. and quickly stabbed an enemy agent in the throat as they came around the pillar, “Any ideas on how to get out of this?”

You kept flinging fireballs at the agents as they approached. The two of you moved behind another pillar in the furthest corner of the room from the door, “Only one.” You say, peeking out and throwing more fireballs, “You aren’t going to like it though.”

Bucky looked at you for a moment before focusing on the door. He didn’t really have a choice right now and whatever plan you had was better than the one he had. He was armed with only a knife while the A.I.M. agents were armed with all types of high-tech weapons and there were more flooding into the room at every second, “What’s your plan?” He asks.

You look up at him biting your lip softly, “Stay here. Stay down. Trust me.” You tell him before starting to slowly walk out from behind the pillar, throwing fireballs at the closest ones. You heard Bucky yell your name and for you to get back to cover. You cracked your neck and closed your eyes for a moment and when you opened them, your irises were gold but moving like they were melted gold. Your body erupted into flames before you outstretched your hands and with a scream, all the fire on your body quickly grew and moved to all the agents, crisping them up instantly and falling to the floor. You walked to the door and did the same, taking the ones out in the hallway as they fired at you.

Bucky watched with wide eyes but had moved to kneel on the floor as the fire swirled above his head, watching from around the pillar as you went to the hallway. Once you were out of view and it seemed like the fire had suddenly disappeared, he cautiously moved across the room, “Y/N?” He asks before peaking out the door. His eyes widened, seeing you laying on the floor with red stains starting to soak through your suit slowly in different areas across your chest, “Y/N!” He yelled, kneeling down by you. He quickly observed your wounds, six bullets straight to the chest and stomach. He pressed two fingers to your neck and found a weak pulse, “Dammit!” He growled out before opening coms on his ear piece, “Sam, Steve. Mission failed. I’m coming out, Y/N is down. Get the medical supplies on the quinjet ready.” He quickly scooped you up into his arms and started carrying you out. It seemed clear, you had taken care of most of the enemies before they managed to shoot you. He walked out of the doors, carrying you passed Steve and Sam who were looking at you horrified. He got into the quinjet and laid you down on the floor, “Steve, give me the medical kit.” He growled out.

Sam went to start the quinjet, knowing they needed to get back to the facility as soon as possible to the medical team where the cradle would be waiting. Steve grabbed the medical kit they had and opened it, helping immediately to try and pack the bullet holes and put pressure on the wounds.

“C’mon, doll. C’mon!” Bucky said, keeping pressure on the wounds and replacing the gauze as the blood absorbed into them rapidly, “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. I got you. You’re going to be okay.” He kept repeating in a panic.

You heard his voice and opened your eyes lazily to look up at Bucky, tears welting up into your eyes, “Bucky.. There’s things you don’t know… Don’t leave me… Stay with me…” You whisper out weakly, blood leaking out the corners of your mouth.

Bucky looked at you as you spoke, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. Just stay awake, stay with me.” He said with a small, pained smile that quickly changed to a frown when you coughed a little before your body stopped moving completely and you were staring up at the ceiling blankly. Steve slowly pulled his hands away from your body, realizing you were gone. Bucky looked at Steve, “What are you doing?! You have to keep pressure!” He growled out.

Steve looked at Bucky, “She’s gone, Buck.” He said softly, watching Bucky fumble around for more gauze and keeping pressure on your body. Once Bucky tried to start CPR on you, Steve grabbed him and pulled him back away from your body, “Buck! She’s gone!”

Bucky struggled in Steve’s grasp, his tear filled eyes staring at you on the floor wide-eyed, “No, Steve!” He yelled, “She can’t be gone! I just got her back!” He said, pushing Steve away and dropping next to your body and pulling you against his chest. He pressed his face into your shoulder, not caring about the blood that was covering him, “No, sweetheart… I’m sorry… No..” He whispered against your shoulder, “I should’ve known you had a stupid plan… Should’ve listened to you when you had a bad feeling..” His voice cracked, “I’m so sorry… I wasted time with you again… I need you, baby… Please don’t go.. I love you…” This hurt worse than when he left you in 1943. At least then he knew you were safe at home and he was the one that didn’t know if he’d make it back. He felt guilty. In 1943 he had confessed his feelings for you and by some god damn miracle you had come back to him and due to him feeling so broken, so unworthy of your love because of what Hydra did to him, he didn’t make any moves with you to let you know he still loved you.

The ride back to the facility was silent, Bucky leaning back against the seats with your body still in his arms. Once they got back to the facility, a medical team was waiting for them at the landing zone. Sam walked down the ramp first, letting the medical team know that they weren’t needed. Steve walked out beside Bucky who was carrying your body in his arms, an emotionless look on his face. He carried your body into the medical bay and laid you on the metal table, looking down at you, “I really screwed up, Steve. Again.” He said softly, his voice breaking.

Steve had followed Bucky in, standing beside him. This loss hit him deep as well. You were one of his best friends, always stitching him and Bucky back up after they’d get into fights. He had a crush on you for the longest time but knew from the way you looked at Bucky that there was no chance and he had forgotten you when he met Peggy, “I’m sorry, Buck.” Steve said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Bucky shook his head, “I should’ve told her how I felt the first time I saw her back here.” He said softly, his eyes staring at your now pale face, “I felt like I didn’t deserve her… Like who I am today didn’t deserve her and I kept her at a distance.” Tears had started to flow slowly again down his cheeks, “I love her. It’s always been her.”

Steve nodded, a saddened expression still on his face, “I know, Buck. I know.” He said and squeezed Bucky’s shoulder, “I’ll give you some time.” He gave you one last glance before heading out of the room to leave Bucky alone with your body.

Bucky pulled up one of the stools and sat beside you, lifting his flesh hand to gently stroke your hair which was slightly matted from the blood, “Y/N, I’m sorry.” He whispers out, his nose and eyes stinging from crying, “I should’ve known when you said you had a bad feeling. You’re never wrong, sweetheart.” His lips twitched into a slight smile before returning to a frown, “Why did you have to go and do that, huh? Go and get yourself killed- I’m so mad at you, doll. I’m mad at myself too… I shouldn’t have wasted time with you just hugging you. I should’ve been loving you. Showing you how much I missed you. How much I love you…” He scooted his stool over to grab a water basin and a towel, “I’m not leaving you though… I’ll get you cleaned up. You’d be so angry if I left you looking like this.” He went over to the sink and filled the water basin up with warm water before returning to your side, slowly wiping off the splotches of blood the best he could from your suite, skin, and face. When he was finished, he went back to the sink to clean up the mess he made and wash his hands. The orange glow on the wall in front of him caught his attention and he turned, seeing that your body had erupted into large orange flames, “What…” Bucky breathed out, watching the flames grow to engulf the whole table to the ceiling. He held his hand up, blocking the brightness from his eyes before the fire started to die down. His eyes widened in shock when he saw you sitting up on the medical table, breathing deeply as the flames sucked back in through your skin and you were left sitting on what looked like a pile of ash. Bucky practically tripped over his own feet sprinting over to you, taking your face in his palms and scanning over your face, “Y/N? Doll?”

You opened your eyes slowly and looked at him, “So we’re back to pet-names now?” You ask and managed a small smile. Luckily your suite was fireproof so it had managed to stay in tact through the flames.

“How?” Bucky asked simply, keeping his eyes on yours. He was shocked, he had watched you die and carried your lifeless body back here before you just erupted into flames and now… here you were. Just sitting there like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t been injured at all. Like you hadn’t died in his arms.

You sighed softly and reached your hands up to rest on his that were still on your face, “There’s some things you and Steve don’t know, Buck.” You told him softly, “I’m not just a pyrokenetic… I’m a phoenix. We don’t die very easily, we just revive.”

Bucky’s brow pulled together at the news, blinking at her in disbelief, “Why didn’t you tell Steve and I this?” They had always known about your ability to manipulate and create fire, so why couldn’t you have trusted them with this?

“I couldn’t. Phoenix are rare. A lot of people believe we are a myth but there are those who hunt us relentlessly” You told him, taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’ve been around since about the 1860’s, that’s why I never had any family. There’s only a few things that can kill us for certain and bullets aren’t one of them.”

Bucky continued to stare at you, speechless at your words. At least he didn’t feel like the old one anymore. He stepped back from you and tilted his head a little, “Steve is not going to believe this.” He said.

You jumped off from sitting on the table and walked closer to Bucky, “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you… Are we okay? You seem mad.”

Bucky looked down at you, “I thought you were dead, Y/N. I thought I had fucked up again and lost you before I could…” He paused, watching your expression closely, “Before I could tell you that I still love you.”

You stared back at him, “Oh…” You managed to squeak out, “And… I’m assuming this kind of changes that?” You asked quietly. You had always been worried about how another person would feel about dating an immortal being. Who would want to be with someone forever trapped in the body of a young woman while they grew old? You look down, fidgeting with your fingers.

Bucky watched your expression change to a defeated look which broke his heart. He took a step towards you and grabbed onto your face with his large hands again, pulling your lips to his. His lips twitching into a small smile when he felt you kiss him back softly. He pulled away and looked down at you, “Are you kidding me? Now Sam can stop calling me the old one.” He said softly down to you, “I love you. Doesn’t matter if you’re a phoenix, a zombie, a human… Hell, you could even be the damn devil and I would still love you.”

You smiled up at him, lifting your palms to place on the sides of his neck gently, “I halfway hope you wouldn’t love me if I was a zombie… But I love you too.” You replied and gave him another kiss to the lips before pulling away, “Speaking of zombies, how about we go prank Sam and Steve? I could pretend to be back from the dead and want to eat their brains.”

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head at her, “Yeah, alright. C’mon, sweetheart. They’re probably in a shitty mood anyway and could use a lift me up.” He said before taking your hand and pulling you out of the medical bay to go prank the two.

_____________________________________________________________ Permanent Taglist: @buckypops @stcrryslibrary @bibliophilewednesday

[milliedazzledust]

Tell me you love me (Nick Scratch imagine)

Request from @starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies : Could you do a hurt/comfort Nick scratch fic? Like maybe the reader gets hurt by one of the villains in caos?

+ Request from anon: Just an INTENSE “oh my god thank fuck you’re safe” type of scene with nick 

---

“Okay, Y/N, that’s enough”

The girl turned her head to her friend. They were sitting on the stairs inside the Academy of Unseen Arts, talking about spells when the young woman had spotted Nicholas Scratch, talking to the weird Sisters.

“Enough ?” She repeated.

“Stop being distracted by Nick!”

“What ?” She straightened out. “What are you talking about, Brina ?”

“Are you kidding me ?” Her friend laughed. “Every time he walks in a room, your eyes go to him and your mind gets lost into this land of daydream you created to avoid telling him how you feel”

She puffed, averting her friend’s gaze before closing the book on her lap and getting up.

“Stop being so dramatic, Spellman. It’s not like that.”

“Oh yeah ?” She smiled. “Then why has he been staring at you with those love sick puppy eyes ever since he spotted us on the stairs ?”

Her eyes grew big and she took her friend by the hand, forcing her to walk.

“Spellman ! Y/L/N !” They hear Prudence called before they could disappear in the hallway.

Sabrina glanced at her friend, already annoyed, and turned back to the weird sisters and Nicholas.

“Hi, Prudence” She simply greeted her.

“And what is this book I see…” She pondered with a smirk. “Dark magic, huh ?”

“You do know it is forbidden to practice it” Dorcas reminded them.

“Who said anything about practicing” Y/N answered. “It’s called reading”

“Now if you excuse us, we have to go” Sabrina added.

Prudence looked them up and down before turned around, snapping her fingers at her sisters to tell them to follow her. And once again, before the two friends could go, someone stopped them. This time it was Nicholas. He grabbed Y/N by her wrist, forcing her to turn and face him.

“You’re not using any of those spells, are you ?” He asked.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re worried about me, Scratch”

“I am”

“Well, don’t be.” She smiled at him. “You know I’m powerful. And besides, we have everything under control”

He looked between Sabrina and her, not entirely sure he believed them.

“If you need my help you know you can call me” He insisted.

“I know, Nick.”

“Please be careful” He called before she could get away.

“You know I always am” She sweetly smiled.

He pursed his lips, half satisfied by her answer and decided against his best judgment to let them go. Sabrina grabbed her friend by the arm, both of them making their way to the mortal realm. Half an hour later, they were sitting inside Dr.Cerberus’ coffee with Theo and Roz.

“When exactly did you noticed something was different about Harvey?” Y/N asked them.

“About two days ago. He started acting … weird” Theo answered.

“Weird how ?”

“Talking to a wall, having those spasms and drawing symbols”

“You have them ?” Y/N inquired. “The drawings”

“Yes!”

Roz got a piece of paper out of her bag. As soon as she put it on the table, the witches recognized it.

“We were right” Sabrina told her friend.

“What is it ?” Theo said.

“He’s possessed” Y/N explained. “It’s a sigil he’s drawing. It represents a lock in ancient Greek. Typically, when one’s possessed, they’ll instinctively try to protect their mind by making this”

“How … how do we help him ?” Roz continued, talking to Sabrina.

“I don’t know how to perform an exorcism guys” She admitted.

“I do” Y/N announced. “I’ll do it”

“You know it’s risky” Sabrina reminded her.

“I don’t see any other choices, Brina. Unless you want your friend to die, which will eventually happen”

She sighed, knowing the girl was right.

“How do we help you ?” Theo asked them.

“Staying away is the best option for you” Y/N told them.

“Why ?!”

“Once I’ll do the exorcism, the demon will be forced out of Harvey’s body. There’s a chance it might jump in one of yours to hide from me”

They nodded, understanding what was at stake.

“We’ll be a phone call away in case you need us”

“Don’t worry, it’s gonna be fine” Sabrina reassured them.

Once everything was settled, they made their way to the Spellman’s house. Sabrina had the idea to lure Harvey inside. The house would be empty that night so it was now or never. As the blonde witch wrote the message for her friend to come, Y/N started to prepare for the spell. Candles, cauldron with blood and ashes, a circle of salt and her book of Dark Magic were prepared for the ritual.

“As soon as he’s here, get him in the circle then close it with the salt” She explained to Sabrina.

“You sure about this ?” She asked one last time.

Her friend responded with a shrug. Before she could answer, her phone rang, distracting her. She sighed when she realized who was calling her and turned around for a bit of privacy.

“Nick” She answered.

“Hey! When are you coming back to the Academy” He inquired.

“Why ?”

“It’s almost midnight”

“So …?”

“Look, Y/N, I’m just making sure that you’re alright and not doing anything reckless”

“I told you I’d be careful, didn’t I ?”

“Yeah, well I’m aware of your definition of non-existent sense of self preservation”

“That’s offending”

“But true. Now when are you coming back ?”

“Later. I’ve got to go. Brina and I are kinda in the middle of something”

“Wait …”

She didn’t wait and hang up when she saw Harvey approaching the house.

“Ready ?”

“As I’ll ever be”

Y/N went to hide in the kitchen, waiting for Sabrina to give her a signal. She could hear them exchanged words and Sabrina kept talking to distract the possessed boy as she lured him in the living room. Everything was happening perfectly so far.

“Just sit here, Harvey” She told him. “Make yourself comfortable”

As he sat on the chair, she threw the salt she had in her fist, finishing the circle where he was now trapped.

“What is this ?” He asked, confused.

“Y/N!” She called.

The girl walked from behind him, putting him to sleep with a small incantation in latin. They exchanged one final look, ready to get to work.

“Once I’m inside, don’t come near me » She reminded Sabrina. « Do not touch me”

Her friend nodded. She took a deep breath and stepped inside the circle. Slowly, with all the patience she could conjure up, she started to prepare. Drawing signs on the floor with the blood mixed with the ashes, she started reciting a spell. Harvey started shaking, a small sign he was struggling. As she lit the large candle in front of her, she kneeled down, the last words of her spell pouring out of her mouth, sending her into a transe. Suddenly, she was gone. Her head thrown back, her eyes closed, she seemed in another dimension.

“Harvey!” She called inside her mind.

“The boy is not here” She heard a whisper behind her.

“Who are you, demon ?”

“You’re about to find out, witch”

And so her fight to free Harvey started. It was pitch black inside her mind and she could hear the demon laughing, waiting to attack. She tried to make a step but realized she could not move. Shaken, she look at her feet and saw a large pentagram, a witch trap.

“Shit” She murmured to herself.

She couldn’t reach Sabrina to tell her, she’d have to face him alone. Again, she heard him laughing. She turned around, trying to think of an escape but knew no spell would be efficient against a witch trap. Before she could realized what was happening, she felt what seemed like water on the floor. From outside, Sabrina knew something wasn’t right. Y/N couldn’t feel it in her mind but her body was shaking like crazy. Blood was rolling out of her nose and she almost seemed out of breath. Sabrina tried to call her but knew it was useless. She couldn’t help her, not from outside the circle and not by herself. Cursing, she knew who she had to call at their rescue.

“Nick, I need your help” She reached out to the boy through her mind.

“Where are you ?” She heard back seconds later inside her head.

“My house. Bring the sisters with you”

“Why ?”

“We used a spell and she’s not… I don’t think she’s alright”

“What spell ?” He asked.

“The exorcism”

“Who did it ?”

“…it’s Y/N. You have to hurry, Nick, please” She cried.

He didn’t answered back and she guessed he was rushing to get to the house. She turned back to her friend. Her eyes had turned wide. A large, empty white color staring back at nothing. It was like she had big electric jolts to her body. She could see Y/N trembling, the spasms so violent as she fought. Her body was in a tornado and Sabrina knew if she tried to even touch her it could have devastating effects.

“What the hell is going on” She heard behind her

When she turned around, the weird Sisters and Nick were standing there. The sisters stayed back, accessing the room, but Nick immediately rushed to Y/N once he saw her struggling.

“No!” Sabrina shouted.

He stopped right before crossing the line of salt encircling the young girl inside.

“What did you do, Sabrina ?!” He yelled back, his eyes glued to Y/N

“We had … we had to do an exorcism” She explained. “I didn’t know how but Y/N did. And once… once she started, her body just …”

“Why did you let her do it ?!” Nick cut her.

“Do you realize how dangerous this is ?” Prudence lectured.

“You have to help me” Sabrina said, ignoring their questions. “I can’t make her come back by myself”

Nicholas turned back to the girl, walking in front of her from a safe distance. He knew she couldn’t see him, but maybe she could hear him.

“Hey beautiful” He started to speak. “It’s me, it’s Nick. Can you hear me ?”

His heart broke when he saw her shiver more violently.

“I know you’re trapped, but I need your help Y/N”

Again, no reaction to tell him she was able to ear him.

“Try a memory, Nick” Prudence advised him.

He nodded.

“Do you… do you remember the first time we met ?” He knelt down in front of her. “You were on this rooftop, dancing by yourself. You were so beautiful. You looked like a mad woman, so I called your name but you didn’t hear me. I tried to come closer but I must’ve startled you, because you made me freeze on the spot with a flicker of your hand. I knew when you turned around that I was doomed to fall for you”

“Nick..” She whispered, almost as if speaking out loud was hurting her

“I’m here, Y/N, I’m right here love” He said back.

“I’m trapped with him”

“It’s alright, we’re here to help you get back”

“We need the demon’s name, Y/N” Prudence added, her sisters and her already in a circle.

The girl was looked straight ahead, distressed, almost conflicted by her choice.

“Once I tell you, you won’t have long” She told them.

“Why ?”

“He’ll do anything to keep us from casting him out”

“Makes sense” Agatha stated. “The power is in his name”

“Y/N” Nick called. “Which demon is with you ?”

“His name is …” She stopped herself, pursing her lips.

They could see her fighting a battle to open her mouth, to vocalize the syllable that could end her suffering.

“..B…Buka..vac” She murmured.

Prudence gasped, the simple name enough to horrify her and her sisters.

“What ?” Sabrina asked. “Who is it ?”

“He’s a demonic creature” Nicholas whispered, his eyes glued to Y/N. “He possessed people to torture them and drown them from inside”

Just as he said it, she started to hyperventilate. She opened her mouth to speak but only water came out.

“What’s happening ?” Sabrina shouted.

“Y/N, love, listen to me” Nick vehemently spoke, his eyes filling with tears. “You have to fight him back. Please, you have to…”

He couldn’t speak, his heart was breaking watching the girl he loved chocked on invisible water.

“C’mon Nick, get up” Prudence said. “Help us”

They formed a circle around her, locking their hands as they started chanting in an ancient language. Each of them in tune, they were giving strength to the young witch. Nick closed his eyes, keeping on reciting the words. He couldn’t watch her like this, it was too much. He could hear her struggle to keep the oxygen in her lungs, could guess the pounding of her heart and the fight in her head. In that moment he prayed Satan she’d keep breathing. There was a sense of urgency around them all that was more apparent than ever. They were close to losing their fight and all Nicholas could focus on was his love gasping for air. He let the tears freely roamed on his face, trying to shut the sound of her struggle.

And suddenly, it stopped. No more sound of heavy breathing or coughing, just a heavy silence. Fearful of what he would see, Nicholas slowly opened his eyes. He could swore his heart stopped beating right there when he saw her body laying on the ground. Without even thinking or realizing it, he crossed the circle made of salt and rushed to her side.

“No, no, no, no, no…” He kept whispering.

Her body felt cold, too cold to be alive. She felt like a ghost in his arms. He placed a hand of her chest, praying whatever entities could hear him to make him feel a heartbeat. He waited, but nothing happened.

“Move aside, Nick!” Prudence forcefully told him, pushing him away.

She started to pound on the young witch’s chest with all the power she could muster. Her sisters behind her were silently helping with a spell.

“C’mon, Y/N, breath” She shouted. “Breath!”

With a powerful fist she banged on her heart. The reaction was instantaneous and the girl woke up, taking a tremendous gulp of air as she regain consciousness. In doing so, and just as she arose, so did Harvey who had been asleep during the whole process of exorcism. Sabrina ran to him, wanting to make sure he was alright.

As of Nicholas, he didn’t waste a second before taking the girl in his arms, nodding at Prudence as a silence sign to thank her.

“Oh my god, thank fuck you’re safe” He whispered, crying.

Weakly, Y/N reached for him and hugged him as hard as she could.

“Thank you” She said, her head buried in his neck.

“Never, ever, do that again” He answered, taking her head between his hands. “I thought you were dead, Y/N/N”

A tear escaped her eye as she clasped her hands around his wrists, a simple way to ground herself to him.

“For a moment there I thought so to” She admitted.

Slowly, he helped her to sit.

“Harvey, are you alright ?” She asked, turning her head to the teenager.

“Yes, yes I am” He reassured her.

She closed her eyes, sighing in relief as she put her head on Nicholas’s shoulder.

“C’mon, you have to rest” Nick said. “I’ll take you back to the Academy”

She nodded.

“Sabrina, stay with Harvey to make sure he’s alright” She told her friend.

“You sure ?”

“Yes, I’ll be alright”

“I don’t want to leave you alone, not after all this” Her best friend confessed.

“She won’t be alone” Nick answered her. “There’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight”

Sabrina smiled as she watched the young boy bending to take the girl he loved in his arms. Hands clasped with Harvey’s, she watched the Sisters follow Nick and Y/N on their way back to the Academy. Through the small journey, Y/N slept. Safe in Nick’s arms, she knew she could rest peacefully. She woke up, several hours later, disoriented, in her bedroom at the Academy.

“We’re home” She heard a voice comfort her in the dark.

When she turned her head, she saw him. Sitting on her bed, his back to the wall, his eyes glued to her.

“You know it’s creepy to watch someone sleep, do you ?” She joked.

“I needed to make sure you were still breathing” He seriously stated.

She sighed, getting up to match his position. Slowly, she put her head on his shoulder and entwined their hand.

“I’m alright, Nick”

“I know” He said, closing his eyes. “But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the sight of you so pale and… and almost …”

“Hey, hey! Nick look at me”

She moved, kneeling in front him.

“I’m here, I’m alive”

She took one of his hand, putting in on her chest.

“Do you feel that ? …”

With a little force, he hugged her as hard as he could. His head on her chest, his ear on top of her heart, he listened closely. She let him have a moment, knowing it must have been rough for him. They stayed like that, in each other’s arms, her hand playing with his hair, for what felt like only two minutes.

“I love you, Y/N” He whispered, admitting his feelings.

“I figured” She joked.

He playfully slapped her thigh, making her laugh.

“Aren’t you going to say it back ?” He asked.

“I guess so”

“You … I’m sorry, « you guess so » ?” He straightened up, pretending to be hurt.

“Is that ego of yours bruised, Scratch ?”

“Very much so”

She laughed before looking at him dead in the eyes.

“Then I should probably tell you a secret”

“Is it a good secret ?” He asked.

“I’ll let you decide on that one”

“Alright, I’m listening”

With a wicked smile she leaned into him, slowly putting her lips on his. It was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a short moment, a statement from both of them admitting what they refused to say out loud before.

“I love you too, Nick” she whispered in his ear.

“Best secret ever” he answered, smiling, making her laugh.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Woof Woof

Pairing | Tyler Lockwood x reader

Summary | you were the last person alive that Tyler ever saw himself confiding in. But when the pair of you were the only sober ones at an outdoor party, he has no other choice. Though, he finds himself to be surprised to find out how serious you can really be in the moment.

Warnings | angst, mentions of death, tiny smidge of violence, swearing, implied smut

Requested ☑️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

“Fetch.”

A football rolled at Tyler’s feet, him being unimpressed by the insulting sentiment. The brown and white seamed material became the affections of his prying glare, and if he were a witch, it was undoubtable that he’d have burned the item right on the spot, reducing it to nothing more than ashes encrusted in the encrusted and dead green leaves.

It was summer, which meant, before the new year at school began, there would be woodsy bonfires, and a bunch of teens drinking despite the legal age limit. Matt was tending to the kegs, of which he had bargained with the owner of the grill to sell to him, illegally of course. It seemed that deal had worked out fine, considering that many had drinks in their hands. But today, he didn’t need the mockery meddling with his mind,one day of peace was all he wanted, though seemingly, he was never permitted such a luxury.

With his intent full eyes, he found a you staring at him, a mischievous taint to your irises, you was messing with him; nothing dissimilar to the normal. It was the natural of order of things, and he had rather grown used to your ever so laughable shadow prowling behind him, making up all those stupid jokes, having the heart to return the comments in one way or the other.

The weight of returning to school was already upon his shoulders, adjoined with the priority to keep himself controlled and not kill anyone. That meant, he particularly was not in the mood for your mind games, even if they were not supposed to have that

That part, was what you inclined your humour towards, brashly and bluntly making copious amounts of jokes directed towards his animalistic nature, reminding him that he could never live the life of a normal boy again.

“Maybe I should throw it back far enough so that you’ll be searching for it all night.” The Lockwood sneered lightly towards you, softly kicking the ball away from himself, heading to turn away from where you were trudging over, not wanting to pull an expression that would set off your terrible puns.

“We could get out of here, away from all the noise. I get how much it must be hurting your head, with all the new canine tricks you’ve learnt.” Gulping, Tyler watched as you bent down to pick up the sporting item, twirling it in your hands, as you awaited an answer out of him.

The werewolf nodded, walking ahead of you, as he abandoned the scene that he had once thrived in, now feeling like he no longer belonged around normal people, who were oblivious to the truth, and free of his curse. Not to mention, the truth that you were nothing more than a human, that despite knowing the realism that ran on through the town, killing many people, whether they were passers by, or long term citizens.

And as per usual, they were regarded as animal attacks; and because he killed someone, he had to live in the paws of a wolf. “Good boy.” You snickered at his competence to lean obediently into your words, going to ruffle his brown locks, though his fast and vigilant hand caught yours before you could proceed with the action.

Your other hand released the kick ball, as you focused on how his grip tightened, pulling you closer as his angered expression moved closer to your face. There was no point in trying to pull away, he was far too strong, as all the other lurking supernatural creatures were, and you were not sure whether you should be relieved or not that he was not a vampire.

These woods had a history for disappearances, and deadly attacks, but this time, you felt safe moving away from the grand population of your school, because Tyler was with you. Tyler was strong, and protected the people he cared about, despite what others may think. He was gullible to the premises of relationships, he saw someone caring as him as nothing more sexual intent.

And that was a chore you carried, and another reason that you happened to tease him so. Not only was he an easy target with all these new changes making his bones crack, but he, deep down was a sweet and lost boy, that you were falling for, but you’d never admit that. Not even to Bonnie, who said she was able to see the future or some witchy psychic shit like that.

But perhaps, he was the one that you were supposed to be scared of. A wolf was deceiving, they prowled among the sheep, picking out the weaker ones of the flock, dragging their limbs away to satisfy the contents of their supper.

“You’re hurting me Lockwood, let go.” You winced, feeling how the bone shifted beneath the rough, human skin, and the inability that you had to heal made you fear the pain furthermore. As your eyes flickered up to his, you saw a wrenching gold splinter his irises, their black outlines painting lines around his waterline, making your body tremble. “Tyler, it’s me.”

Still, he seemed mute to what he was doing. You knew he wasn’t meaning to bring pain upon you, but that fact didn’t make it hurt any less. As you huffed your breath out in whimpers through your nose, your eyes filled with tears. And then you did something you’d deny ever dreaming of, you kissed him, suffocating your noises of displeasure upon his lips.

Soon, you felt his hold on your wrist loosen, dropping it suddenly, trying to pull away, scared that he would hurt you again. But with your unharmed arm, you reached up with your hand, tugging him back, as you extended the kiss for a few more seconds, finally disengaging, to your relief, seeing his usual brown hues.

“I hurt you.” He whimpered, feeling guilty. Moving your wrist around, you rotating it, grimacing at the feeling for a moment, but relaxing him a little as he heard no broken bones. “Y/n...”

“I’m fine, it’s just a little sore. Now shut up and kiss me Fido, or I’ll find some other guy that isn’t as pathetic as a castrated dog, and will-“ before you could finish your sentence, Tyler suffocated your mouth with his own, sinking his tongue through the parting of your lips, as he walked you backwards, pinning you up against the trunk of a tree, peeling your jacket from your arms, and discarding it upon the ground.

“You know I’m up against a tree right?” You snickered, earning an annoyed glare from the werewolf, who sighed, knowing that he had to ask the importance of such a thing.

“So?”

“Bark bark.” He shut you up with his mouth, unamused by your constant puns, instead wanting to fathom the dancing of your tongue rather than the words that actually fell from it.

Your hands raked down the back of his head, your nails pinching into his skin, as you mumbled his own name into his mouth, losing speech as he began to suck at your tongue. “Is this what wolves do, fuck in the woods?” Tyler rolled his eyes at you, raising his arms to slip his shirt off, the sight silencing you, as you ran your palms over his exposed chest.

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled, mushing his lips back onto your own, biting your lip, and pulling at it, leaving you certain that you’d have a bruise left upon it later on. Your hands began to tug at his belt, multitasking with the suffocation of his mouth, as you slightly opened your eyes so that you could find the buckle.

“I don’t think I’m going to do that, all things considered.” You smiled, dipping your hand into his pants, plucking at the material of your boxers, licking your lips, as you earned a reprised moan out of the dog boy.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Death & Dowries

Summary: The Iron Bank of Braavos will always have its due. But dowries make things…complicated and the pride of men knows no bounds. A bargain is struck between a Keyholder of the Iron Bank and Tywin Lannister and the life of an adventurous woman is suddenly uprooted as she is made the newest Lady of Casterly Rock. But the wedding of King Joffrey Baratheon and Lady Margaery Tyrell brings a familiar face to King’s Landing and a Braavosi woman always has a backup plan.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand/F!Reader, (arranged) Tywin Lannister/F!Reader, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand

WARNINGS: Spousal abuse, death, murder, lite smut, my over-use of italics, mentions of child birth and babies (please DO NOT read if any of this will upset you)

Word Count: 12.1k (heavy sigh)

(banner by my love @starlight-starwrites​ )

A/N: The italics denote the “present” time. Circa Season 7 Episode 7. I’m going to throw a lot of ASOIAF lore at you so, if you have ANY questions, please just ask! 

You can read this on Ao3, if you prefer!

She had hoped to never step foot into this wretched city again. But Cersei had called and she knew she must answer to keep the unstable queen from looking too closely. And, of course, she wanted to see a dragon.

What she did not expect to see was a familiar shade of yellow and orange while a recognizable laugh rang in the tense air. She froze at the entrance and her handmaiden smacked into her back. “I am so sorry, my lady,” she whispered.

The sudden noise drew attention and soon Oberyn and Ellaria were standing from their seats, kind eyes locked on her.

**

Westeros was nothing that her father had promised when he set her on the ship and sent her away from home. It was supposed to be exciting and new and beautiful and everything she wanted in a home. Instead, she had been gifted a cold castle filled with portraits of a woman who she was supposed to be replacing and an old man for a betrothed.

But even the Keyholders of the Iron Bank of Braavos knew of Tywin Lannister. "He is a powerful man. You will be well-cared for and loved by the people you govern, my sweet," her father said, his smile not quite touching his eyes. "That is all I want for you."

It was a lie. A pretty lie, but a lie all the same. Her father and a handful of other Keyholders all had daughters of the marrying age and had created a terrible, unspoken game between them. Everything had a price. Especially to the men and women who controlled the keys to the Iron Bank.

Dowries for their daughters were boasted and bartered. Whomever paid the most, bragged that their line was as coveted as a princess.

It was all ridiculous. A stupid game. Especially for people who usually wanted to protect their coin.

Y/N was thankful she had no sisters so that they would not be subjected to this prick-measuring game, too.

Whispers had spread through Braavos when her father had set her betrothal.

It was a dowry worthy of four princesses of old, surely.

But Tywin Lannister would not see a single coin.

An almost flawless plan, Y/N thought. Her father would pay half of the Iron Throne's debts to the Bank in exchange for Y/N becoming the new Lady of Casterly Rock. For as large as her dowry was, Y/N was only slightly amused at how small her wedding festivities were when she arrived at King’s Landing. A handful of people, mostly Lannisters and their bannermen, and the three handmaidens she had brought with her from Braavos. The furnishings were fine and the food was almost salted correctly but it was small. Tywin wrapped her in a crimson red cloak and kissed her with unmoving lips and she had become Lady Y/N Lannister, a lion of the rock.

And that was it. Little fanfare and her life was completely uprooted. And as the days continued to pass, she doubted she would ever find a bit of happiness in her new station.

She had to keep herself from yawning as Tywin rutted above her, grunting like an old boar. But he finished soon enough and rolled off of her and grabbed his robe. As soon as it was fastened around his waist, he strode out of her chambers without a look back.

The door opened soon after and her small horde of handmaidens quickly entered, already bringing her a steaming pot of tea and a balm for her skin where her lord husband always clutched too tight.

She had given up on telling him it hurt after the first fortnight and considered herself at least a little lucky that the old man still knew how to move his hips.

“How do you fare, my lady?” One handmaiden asked in the lilting tongue of the Braavosi dialect of High Valyrian. She quickly pressed a cup of tea into Y/N’s hands.

“Better, now that you are all here with me.”

One took to changing the bed coverings and another helped her stand and quickly began to wash her skin with steaming water scented with roses. The tea was bitter on her tongue but she quickly drank it and let another handmaiden take the empty cup from her hand as soon as it was finished.

“Have the kitchen maids asked what the tea is again?”

“Not since we told them it was a magical potion to guarantee a boy and that it was filled with the blood of a calf and ash from the Doom.” One of them smiled, remembering how the nosey maids nearly fainted at the sound of their lie. It was an ingenious ruse, if she was being honest. Y/N knew that most of the servants in Casterly Rock reported to Tywin about her movements and the company she kept. Thinking she was a witch who relied on bloodmagic easily discounted anything they whispered to her lord husband. And it also kept them from truly investigating her tea—not that anyone on this stupid continent would be able to name it anyway. The root her handmaids boiled for her every time Tywin visited her chamber was not anything magical or arcane.

It was an old recipe from the famed pleasure houses of Braavos—to prevent pregnancy. And it was working remarkably well. The maester had confirmed her fertility so she knew Tywin was probably doubting his own ability as the months continued to trickle by and she was yet to become pregnant. The thought made her laugh. As did the truth that Tywin would never get he had anticipated with the betrothal agreement he had signed with her father. She had decided that as soon as he had sneered at her on their wedding night and said, “I suppose you will do,” before taking what he needed from her body without care for her at all. And whenever he visited her bed, his hands were always too tight, too rough and would not relent even when tears pricked at her eyes and slid down her cheeks. He never stopped. He never cared. Even when his dislike of her as a person evolved to curling his hands into her arms and leaving her with swollen eyes and tender skin. He always made sure they were alone when he raised his hands to her, but he seemed fond of doing so whenever she ever disagreed with him.

She knew that other Keyholders thought her father foolish for her hefty dowry—a steep price to pay for pride. But her mother once said that while blood will open the door, clout will get you a seat at the table.

Her father had the gold to spare, she supposed. And she always wanted a kingdom of her own.

Now…now one was finally within her grasp. Even if it came with such a poor consort. That was what she told herself, anyway.

Just as she was dressed for the day, her chamber door opened again and a servant strode in, eyes darting around the gaggle of women as if searching for something to report. His mouth opened and he informed them all that Lord Tywin had been called to the Riverlands and left her in charge of Casterly Rock. She had heard whispers of the War of the Five Kings from high and lowborn alike. It was a shame that she was kept so far from the action she was so accustomed to at least witnessing with a spyglass from her chamber windows. The Keyholders often had a stake in the wars fought around Westeros and Essos. Having allies in positions of power meant they were in positions of power—and funding their successes meant that they had bargaining chips in collecting debts. Plus interest.

She almost smiled. Finally, a bit of intrigue.

**

Y/N took her seat under the canopy after dismissing her handmaidens and guards, telling them to treat themselves to a well-earned drink at a nearby inn as she noticed the incoming crowd of Dothraki, ‘escorted’ by a band of knights. She only let her eyes move to see Oberyn and Ellaria, the Dornish envoy, for a moment. Their reaction to her arrival had been just as unexpected as their presence. Dangerous. Dangerous.

This whole game was dangerous. And now the King in the North and the Dragon Queen had called for a temporary armistice for some strange reason.

“They tell me that the Westerlands have been flourishing.”

The voice at her side almost had her jumping. It was Tyrion, looking far more bristled than the last time she had seen him, when he had been carted away to the Black Cells. “Yes, well. Apparently I’m quite suited for the task.”

Tyrion’s answering smile was small and he nodded just once. “Yes, I suppose my father would have taught you well-”

“He had nothing to do with it.”

**

Casterly Rock was a delight to have to herself. Even the servants who would whisper her movements into her lord husband’s ear seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when each raven stated Tywin would be away from his seat of power for another fortnight and then another and another. When the Westerlands were being raided by Northmen, led by the adorably pugnacious King Robb Stark, she was happy to open the gates to allow some of the children and ladies of sworn houses to take shelter in the fortress and to give food and water to the knights and bannermen who made camp outside their walls before setting off toward battle.

She arranged marriages between houses and presided over small disagreements brought before her to settle. It reminded her of the time she spent with her dearest friend Bellegere at her famed pleasure house in Braavos and how Bellegere managed each and every bit of everything under her roof and made it all seem so effortless.

That was her kingdom.

And now Casterly Rock was Y/N’s, and she would let no one take it from her.

No one.

“You are happy, my lady,” one of her handmaidens said as they retired for the night. It had been two moons since Tywin had left her to play at war. “I have not seen you this happy since before we left Braavos.”

Y/N hummed and let her wipe the day’s dirt from her skin with a roll of silk dampened with cold cream. “I suppose I should start finding some sort of happiness, no?” She sighed. “Are you happy here?”

Her handmaidens nodded, varying degrees of smiles on their faces. “You know that we had no happiness in Braavos. You have given us hope, just as you have given these strange people hope, too.” They helped her into her sleeping gown and Y/N remembered the places she had plucked her handmaidens from. Cruel noble homes, cruel lowborn homes, temples with dark corners, merchant shops filled with bright tapestries, pleasure houses. Each of them found a new place beside Y/N. And she found friends with them, security and safety.

“We can find a home here,” Y/N whispered to each of them before bidding them goodnight. And she hoped it was true. She needed it to be true.

When the raven came, telling her to come to King’s Landing, she was hesitant to pack her trunks and arrange for the castellan to oversee the governance of Casterly Rock. But she had duties. And, despite knowing she was actively keeping herself from completing one of them, she knew she could not refuse Tywin Lannister. Especially after the Realm (or at least part of it) was hailing him as a hero for breaking the siege on King’s Landing and managing to gain the allegiance of the Reach—such a stupid name for a kingdom—for the Crown. So, she had her trunks packed with her fine gowns and made sure the guests she had allowed to stay in Casterly Rock would be looked after before having the traveling party readied for the trek across the continent. One of the knights, a man who reeked of strongwine and needed to trim his beard, spoke animatedly about the battles Tywin won across the Westerlands and Riverlands on behalf of his grandson, Joffrey. “For the betterment of the Realm,” the knight would finish each story. She doubted it. But she pretended to listen anyway. Y/N truly did not care to listen to the finite details or commit most of them to memory. What she did, however, notice was the distinct smell of piss and soured bread as soon as her wheelhouse and travelling party crested the hill just outside the city gates after several weeks of being confined to the wheelhouse or stuffy inn rooms.

“My lady,” one of her handmaiden’s muttered, “we are going to suffocate.”

Y/N patted her hand with a sigh before spilling a bit of perfume onto each of their kerchiefs to hold under their noses. “Perhaps they will have a garden where we can escape the stench.”

When they arrived at the Red Keep—and such an unimaginative name—she was almost pleased to see that most of the royal family and quite a few courtiers and servants had come to welcome them. Cersei, a face she knew well from the many portraits in the halls of Casterly Rock, only offered a quick sneer and an insincere, “welcome, Lady Lannister, to King’s Landing,” before she quickly left. Joffrey, the brat-boy-king if the whispers were true, looked suspiciously like his mother and also offered a sneer. Tommen was far kinder and offered to show her to her chambers but she declined, knowing that having a prince show her around like a servant would only gain her more ire from the queen dowager.

And then that left…

“Lady Stark,” Y/N said, stepping to the redhead’s side. Yes, she knew of Sansa Stark. The sad little Northern girl who saw her father’s head put on a spike—and apparently one of her brothers was one of the Five Kings running around causing amuck. How fun.

The younger girl curtseyed and murmured a soft hello. “I hope you find the capitol pleasing, my lady.”

She hummed and reached out to take Sansa’s and, wrapping it into the crook of her arm. “I doubt I will. But I shall like it if we were to become friends.”

Sansa’s blue eyes flittered across Y/N’s face and then to the small hoard of handmaidens behind her. “Whatever you wish, my lady.”

Weeks trickled by and Y/N found herself actually enjoying the company of the little wolf pup. She detested the Lannisters and had a quick but sweet wit when she was not in the company of Cersei or Joffrey who seemed to terrify her to no end. Y/N found it funny that Cersei assumed she would report anything and everything Sansa did while in her company. “What would you have her do other than enjoy a bit of tea and some lemon cakes? It is not as if you have given her duties beyond looking pretty.” Her handmaidens even told her that Cersei requested they report back anything they heard Sansa say.

“The poor girl,” they mused. “She is alone here.”

“Yes,” Y/N agreed, “and so are we.” And they were. They were still whispered about by servants and courtiers alike, their movements watched like a mummers’ performance and then hissed into the queen or the new Hand of the King’s ears. The only time they found themselves truly alone was when they were in the company of the Tyrells. Margaery and Olenna were gratuitous social climbers but at least they were smart and she did not feel the need to continue to play the dutiful Lady Lannister in their presence. They had no real love for the Lannisters aside from realizing that the golden lions were the true power in this stupid kingdom and knowing that they needed to at least have a few of them on their side. And Sansa seemed a little relaxed in their presence as well. After her betrothal to Joffrey was broken in favor of Margaery and the Tyrell gold, the young redhead was a tiny bit more…unclenched, especially after being pressed to detail the abuse she survived at the hands of the brat king. Y/N remembered gently wiping the tears away from Sansa’s cheeks after they left the Tyrells. Sansa had recounted her abuse at the hands of Joffrey and his mother. “It is over now, little pup. He shall not harm you again. I promise you that.”

Sansa only nodded and was still very guarded and it was smart to be so but Y/N was happy to see her smile a little more freely.

The smiles stopped when Tywin announced that Sansa was to wed Tyrion.

The girl cried and cried and cried. But only when they were alone and the lemon cakes she’d taken from the kitchen were only crumbs. Shae, Sansa’s handmaiden, always lingered after being dismissed. Y/N was sure she was another spy—but not for Cersei. But it did not matter. What mattered was the crying wolf pup in her arms.

“I can’t do it. I can’t,” Sansa cried, tears wetting Y/N’s dress.

Y/N could only shush her sobs, knowing that Tywin always had his due—well, almost always. “I will make sure you are safe, pup. I promise you that.”

**

Y/N stood, as she was expected to do, when Cersei entered the Dragon Pit and curtseyed as Cersei moved in front of her to take her own seat. The air was tense. Everyone was staring at each other, measuring threats with bated breath.

Y/N had been surprised to see Theon Greyjoy present—after all, it had been a Greyjoy fleet that had destroyed the ship that was carrying little Princess Myrcella back to the Red Keep from Sunspear. It had been a Greyjoy that had given the final push for Cersei to descend into her carefully curated madness. But, then again, Cersei had a Greyjoy of her own, too. Verbal volleys were made and Y/N might have enjoyed listening to the traded barbs but she continued to feel someone’s gaze on the side of her face.

She knew who was looking at her—it did not take any stretch of imagination or serious thought.

She knew.

And a dragon roared overhead.

**

“Take this, pup.” Y/N curled Sansa’s shaking fingers around the small bottle with an even smaller smile.

“What is it?” Sansa was beautiful in her golden wedding dress—beautiful and sad. Handmaidens had just finished twisting her hair into the ridiculous braids Cersei was so fond of and then scattered when Y/N and her flock of Braavosi women arrived. They had taken to dashing away when the Braavosi women arrived after Y/N had all but screamed at them when they would not let Sansa have a moment alone after news of the tactlessly named Red Wedding had reached King’s Landing. Her entire family—gone. Y/N would not see the little pup suffer for another moment.

It had earned her a busted lip and a sore wrist from her dear husband.

“It is a gift.” Y/N patted Sansa’s hand. “One drop will give you a night’s reprieve from your husband. The entire bottle will give your husband…a reprieve of his breath.”

Sansa turned and turned and turned the bottle in her hand. “Poison?”

“Yes, pup. And it is merely a precaution. I would not have you fear for your life in your marital bed.”

“Do you think Tyrion would hurt me?”

“He is the gentlest of his siblings, but it is never unwise to have a dagger up your sleeve.” Y/N stood and took Sansa’s hands in hers after watching her carefully tuck the bottle away into the folds of her dress. “Come, I am allowed to escort you to the Sept.”

**

“We’ve been here for some time,” Cersei said through gritted teeth.

“My apologies.”

Y/N almost snorted at the complete lack of care in the Dragon Queen’s tone as she addressed Cersei for the first time but held a finger under her nose, attempting to hide her smile instead. But Oberyn did openly laugh, only stopping when Ellaria placed a hand on his thigh. When Y/N looked at them, eyes drawn to the pair like a moth to the flame, their smiles grew.

The sound around her died to a low roar. Y/N knew she should be paying attention—the meeting had been called with the premise of saving the Realm—but all she could see was them.

**

“I am not some lowborn trollop, husband. I will not be seen in anything other than the color that denotes my station.” Y/N stared down at the garish red and gold dress that her husband’s servants had placed on the featherbed just a few moments ago.

“Your station is cemented as my wife—Lady Lannister. You will wear your house’s colors and you will never fight me on something so frivolous again.”

“Oh? And what am I allowed to fight you on?” She retorted, feeling her upper lip curl in a sneer. “If not my clothes, what else? You have decided every bit of my life since I have arrived. Am I not allowed one bit of my home?”

Tywin reached out and struck her across the face. Pain bloomed from her eye to her jaw, throbbing in time with her hammering heart. “You would do well to hold your tongue. I have had enough of listening to your ungrateful words. You are the Lady of Casterly Rock—not a sniveling brat. You will wear this gown and I will not hear another word of it. Am I understood?”

Y/N only nodded, hand cradling her cheek and then Tywin swept from the room.

Silence washed over her like a wave in the big room. She stared down at the red dress. Gold lace lined the sleeves and there was even more of the gaudy lace around the neck—it would probably reach just below her chin.

It was a collar. Soft and expensive. But a collar, she realized.

“My lady?” She turned to see one of her handmaidens stepping in, a frazzled look on her face. “Are you ready for us to help you prepare for the wedding?” The girl’s eyes searched her face as if knowing something was wrong. “My lady?” She asked again when Y/N did not answer.

Y/N sucked in a breath and nodded. “Yes. And I believe we are running late.” She removed her dressing gown and let them start to tie her into the hideous gown. It itched. It did not move like the soft silks of Braavos. It was stiff and uncomfortable. It felt like a cage.

Perhaps that is what it was—a cage and a collar.

But she said nothing as she met Tywin outside his chambers and allowed him to grasp her hand and tuck it into the crux of his arm as he escorted her to the Sept. She said nothing as she took her place in the crowd. She said nothing as the stupid vows were exchanged and Joffrey named Margaery as his queen. She said nothing as she was led out to the grounds for the wedding feast. But she plotted. And her cheek throbbed.

She was seated on the raised dais at Tywin’s side but found herself slightly and strangely comforted by the fact that Sansa was within eyesight. When Tywin left her side to speak with someone—and she truly wasn’t listening nor cared who it was—Y/N quickly stood and walked to Sansa’s side, taking Tyrion’s vacated seat.

“How are you, pup?”

Sansa almost smiled. “Alive.”

“And that is half the battle, no?” She reached out and touched the girl’s hands. “Has he been kind?” Her head tilted just so to indicate Tyrion.

Sansa nodded. “I have no use of your gift yet.” They both sighed and looked out over the crowd. “Weddings are supposed to be happy occasions.”

“Yes, I suppose they are. But we have yet to attend one that is capable of making us smile.” She sighed again and looked back at Sansa, eyes catching the pretty, purple necklace around her throat. The jewels glinted…

“Careful with those, my love,” her mother chided as she pulled the little vials from her daughter’s childish fingers.

“What are they, Mama?”

“It was a gift,” Sansa said, providing an answer for the unasked question.

“From whom?”

“Lord Baelish.”

Y/N hummed and twisted one of the jewels between her fingers before letting it drop back against Sansa’s throat.

**

Y/N listened to Jon Snow blather on about saving the Realm, about how an army who doesn’t leave corpses was coming and could not be bargained with. Cersei had a few quips of her own and Y/N pondered if she truly needed to have shut herself into a wheelhouse for weeks to travel here just to listen to Cersei complain and foreign monarchs hardly disguise their contempt. But then Sandor Clegane emerged from the underground tunnel with a large crate on his back and the Dragon Pit grew quiet.

He set it down and…nothing happened, even as he removed the lid.

But then he circled back and kicked it over. With a scream, a creature emerged and ran at Cersei. Bone and dried skin and glowing blue eyes. That was all it was.

That and the terrifying scream.

**

“You look exquisite, child,” Lady Olenna said as she approached Sansa. “The wind has bit at you though.” Olenna glanced at Y/N in acknowledgement, bowing her head just a fraction before focusing on Sansa again, tugging at the ends of her pretty red hair. “I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your brother. War is war, but killing a man at a wedding? Horrid. What sort of monster would do such a thing?” An aged finger traced against Sansa’s cheek. “As if men need more reasons to fear marriage.”

Y/N snorted into her chalice of wine and earned a wink from Olenna over Sansa’s head. But it was the next movement that truly caught Y/N’s attention. Olenna fiddled with Sansa’s necklace before inviting her and Tyrion to Highgarden just as the lion in question approached. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it is time to enjoy this food I paid for.”

Y/N pulled Sansa back into conversation as Olenna departed and noted that one of the strange little gems was now missing from the necklace. What was Olenna planning? Whatever it was, it was sure to be more entertaining than the pretention of this wedding feast. She stood and had Sansa do the same. “Come, pup. It is time we acted like Lannisters, no?” She linked their arms together and led them toward the obnoxiously decorated grounds filled with more food and entertainment.

They both found little enjoyment in the contortionists or the musicians who insisted on playing and replaying The Rains of Castamere on a variety of instruments. But the food was mostly seasoned well.

“Tyrion tells me that a Dornish Prince is in attendance. He’s traveled all over Essos, perhaps he has been to Braavos?” Sansa asked as Y/N found her some lemon cakes and they sequestered themselves away in a dark corner while Y/N sipped on a bit of sweet wine.

“Oh? It would be nice to hear of my home from someone who knows it.” She almost smiled. “I must take you across the Narrow Sea, introduce you to my home. And maybe I can know Winterfell, too.”

Sansa’s smile was small but genuine. “I would like that.”

“But tell me, what is this prince’s name? Perhaps I’ve met him when my lord husband was parading around.”

Sansa wiped the crumbs from her face. “Prince Oberyn Martell.”

**

Jon Snow was a bigger idiot than Sansa had ever said he was in her missives. Openly proclaiming that he had sworn the North and bent the knee to the Dragon Queen while trying to broker a tentative agreement with an unstable lion was very, very stupid. He could have, should have lied and just agreed to the terms Cersei had laid out, keeping her in the dark about his true allegiance.

But no.

Apparently he had more Stark in him than sense.

Everyone had separated after Cersei had stormed away and Y/N found herself walking toward one of the few places she hadn’t seen anyone retreat to but then-

“Mama!”

Y/N turned and caught the child that had leapt into the air, knowing his mother would catch him.

A soft murmur of her name had her freezing.

**

He looked so similar. Barely anything had changed since the last time she had seen him, all too briefly nearly a decade ago. The same self-assured gait. The same sparkle in his eyes. The same charming half-smile that had her mirroring the expression without a thought.

“Hello, little Titan.”

And with the next breath she was younger, visiting her friend Bellegere on her mother’s fine barge, evading her duties for the day. “You are not who I was expecting,” came a voice behind her.

Y/N turned and arched a brow at the young man looking in the doorway. “Nor was I expecting you.” He was either lost or an esteemed guest if he had found his way to Bellegere’s private rooms. With his fine clothes and self-assured smile, Y/N wagered he was the latter. “Who are you?”

He introduced himself with a growing smile and kissed her on the back of the hand before turning her hand over and pressing another kiss to her palm. And the first time in months, Y/N giggled.

The prince was eventually greeted by Bellegere’s mother and he was just as flirtatious with her but did not seem too preoccupied with bedding the famous courtesan as many of her other clients had been lately. In between meetings with the captains of the Second Sons mercenary company, Oberyn was found frequently upon the barge—and Y/N always found herself invited, too. Whether it was by Bellegere or Oberyn, they always seemed eager to pull her away from her duties again and again.

Bellegere had been calm, as she always was with her mother’s clients (Bellegere knew she would one day be the Black Pearl of Braavos and took her training very seriously), but Y/N saw how the Dornish prince had her smiling into her hand after whispering something into her ear, a far cry from the demure tilting of her lips her clients usually coaxed from her while buying her attention and company.

Anyone who could make Bellegere, with all her practiced manners and carefully curated gestures, smile like that was truly a force to be reckoned with. But even when he was on Bellegere’s arm, he took care to include Y/N in their conversations, wanting her opinion. “I like the sound of your voice, little Titan.”

And that wretched, silly nickname. While he called Bellegere by her name, or “my Pearl,” he called Y/N his “little Titan,” a play on how Braavos was known for the hulking statue of a titan at its gates. She was not sure if she loved it or loathed it.

“Have you two been introduced?” Sansa’s question pulled Y/N from her reverie.

“Yes,” Oberyn answered for her with a wink. “We met years ago in Braavos.” It was an understatement. Every time the Second Sons were within a handful of leagues of Braavos, Oberyn made it a point to visit Y/N and Bellegere. There was nothing overtly carnal within their relationship. In fact, they all seemed to be closer friends than anything else. Bellegere was free to be herself in his presence and Y/N was, too. Oberyn was always happy to be their escort around the city and pay for their attentions as if he were any other client, but largely they spent their time laughing and speaking of the world beyond Braavos. He disappeared a few years later only to return to Braavos, older and angrier, to meet with Illyrio Mopatis on business he could not discuss with them. But he had been just as kind with them as he always had been—always a dutiful friend. The last time she had seen him, he had whispered about the death of his sister and her babies, of how she was cruelly killed while trying to protect her children.

It would not be until Y/N reached King’s Landing that she learned that it was believed that Tywin gave the order for his loyal dog, Gregor Clegane, to kill the Princess and her babes.

If Y/N had known that, she would have taken Bellegere’s offer of working on her barge instead of allowing her father to barter her away to Tywin. She never would have betrayed Oberyn like that if she had known. Truly.

But it was too late.

Y/N noticed the beautiful woman at Oberyn side. Surely there were songs sung about her gentle eyes. “But I have not met your lovely companion, my prince.”

Oberyn’s smile widened and he took the woman’s hand and pulled her forward just a bit, obviously filled with pride to have her at his side. “This is Ellaria Sand, my paramour.”

Ellaria curtseyed, “my lady.”

Y/N returned the gesture. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ellaria.”

The woman glanced at Oberyn with a smile. “It seems you are one of the few who share that sentiment.”

Y/N waved it away. “The Westerosi have strange conceptions of honor and status.” She made sure to pat Sansa’s hand. “But there are a few who make it bearable.”

But then a noise drew all of their attention. It started with Queen Margaery screaming, “he’s choking!”

Joffrey heaved with stuttering breaths before collapsing. And the pieces were falling into place.

“You idiots! Help your king!” Olenna shouted. She was a good actress.

Movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention and she watched a poorly dressed fool grab at Sansa’s arm and try to lead her away. Without moving her head, Y/N reached out and snatched Sansa’s hand. “Stay, pup. You know not what you do.”

Sansa’s blue eyes flittered between the Fool and the Lion on her arm and then pulled out of the man’s grip.

Satisfied, Y/N turned to watch Cersei scream and scream and scream as her firstborn turned purple in her arms and Tyrion was carted away by a pair of white cloaks. What a pretty painting that would be. She took another sip of wine.

**

“It is almost as if you were avoiding me, Little Titan.” He still smiled as if no time had passed since their last meeting. But the easy expression faded as he looked down to the small boy in her hold.

Slowly, Y/N set her son down and brushed a bit of dirt from his cherubic cheek. “This is my son, Morgan Lannister.”

Oberyn’s hand shook as he reached out a hand toward the dark haired boy. “Pleased to meet you, little lord.”

Morgan smiled up at Oberyn, bright-eyed, as Oberyn’s finger traced over his brow. “You are Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell! Mama tells me stories about you—about your adventures across the Narrow Sea. And how you slew a mountain!”

“The Mountain, my dear boy,” his mother gently corrected.

“Hardly appropriate bedtime stories,” Ellaria chuckled.

“He likes to know when the hero prevails.”

**

Little Tommen looked so small when he sat on the throne. He was so…kind. So little. That stupid chair was too rough for his gentle soul. But she clapped when he was proclaimed king and smiled when his bright eyes caught hers, a nervous smile on his lips.

“He will be a fair king,” she heard someone whisper as the clapping and cheering continued. “Kind.”

He would be ruled by Tywin. Y/N knew it to be true. The young king was far easier to manipulate—and perhaps Olenna was anticipating that detail, too. Hm. Olenna versus Tywin in a battle of wills. That would be interesting to watch.

“You are contemplative, Little Titan.”

Y/N smiled at the sound of Oberyn’s voice whispering in her ear. They had frequently sought out each other’s company for the last handful of days, meeting in the sunny gardens to reminisce about their time together in Braavos and learning of their adventures during their time apart. Ellaria had proven to be a true, steadfast friend and Y/N was grateful to know her and hear her stories of her childhood at Hellholt in Dorne. And she wanted to hear what Oberyn thought of this newest pretentious display of power but her eyes darted to see Maester Pycelle and Lord Varys far too close for her liking. While she could rely on knowing where the various servants and Westerosi handmaidens to always whisper the ludicrous stories she had concocted into Tywin and Cersei’s ears, she was not sure how to handle the two men who were arguably more intelligent. “We have a new king,” was all she said. “Long may he reign.”

Oberyn’s nose wrinkled for a moment, confused by her response, but nodded as he noticed Pycelle glance in their direction. “Yes, long may he reign.”

She wanted so badly to simply speak with him. She was alone in the capital. Tywin had dismissed her handmaidens and sent them back to Casterly Rock, replacing them with women from the Westerlands who had once been Princess Myrcella’s maids. He was making sure she was alone. Y/N rolled her shoulders as she watched Tywin approach her. He held out his hand for her to take and she dutifully placed her hand in his, letting him guide her up the small set up steps and dais toward the ugly throne. Tommen’s face broke into a smile as she approached and curtseyed. “Lady Lannister.”

“Your Grace,” she replied. “May the Seven bless your reign,” she repeated the words she had heard droned over and over, knowing the little king found comfort in them even if she thought it ridiculous.

“Thank you, my lady.”

Tywin squeezed her arm and she bit back a wince as he led her away. His grip only tightened the further away they were from the mass of celebrators and they only slowed to a stop for a moment, in a dark corner of the hall for him to hiss in her ear, “you will retire to your chambers, immediately.”

Over his shoulder, Y/N spotted Oberyn slipping into the hall, his dark eyes narrowed at the scene. “Of course, my lord.”

But his grip only tightened. “I will not have you making a spectacle of yourself and my house’s name.” Tywin’s long fingers finally pulled away from her skin and he signaled for two white cloaks to flank her on each side. “Make sure she is waiting for me. Do not let her leave the Tower of the Hand until I have come for her. Am I understood?”

Y/N could only gape at her husband as two pairs of unfamiliar, armored hands grasped at her arms and started to pull her away.

And when she was all but shoved into her chambers in the cold tower, Y/N knew she would be facing the old lion’s wrath.

Time trickled by slowly. The tower she had been told to call home was quiet. No servants. No handmaidens (she would not be surprised if they had been told to vacate that morning). No lower-ranking Lannisters begging for a bit of attention.

She was alone.

And she waited.

A glance outside her chamber’s window let her know that the two guards were still standing sentinel at the entry to the tower. Maybe she had become a character from one of those songs children were so fond of—a princess in a tower, waiting for a knight to rescue her.

But she was not a princess.

She was a daughter of Braavos. And she was tired of waiting for something to happen to her, for continuing to allow things to happen. She was going to make it happen.

**

“My lady, I am so sorry,” an out of breath handmaiden sprinted to her side and looked down at the little lord. “He ran off when I turned for just a moment.”

Y/N looked down at Morgan who offered a guilty smile. “I missed you, mama.”

“I was only gone for a moment, little one,” Y/N murmured before pressing a kiss to his cheek and winking at the handmaiden, letting her know there was no harm done. Her son was hard to contain on the best of days. “We have talked about being patient, no? I will never leave you alone for long.”

“But Septon Martyn said you were…umm…” his little face scrunched up, searching for words. “I forget.”

“That’s okay, little one. You’ll remember later.”

“But did you see a dragon?” He nearly screeched, dark eyes lighting up.

“I did. And it was beautiful.” She bent and set him back on his little feet. “But you have to promise mama something, yes? You have to stay with Septon Martyn and Tyanna until I am finished.”

Morgan’s bottom lip jutted out and his gaze moved to Oberyn who was looking down at him with an intense fondness that made her sigh. And Ellaria was at his side, a gentle and curious affection in her gaze. “But what if I want to stay with Prince Oberyn?”

**

Y/N knew to protect her head even before she passed the first stone step. Down, down, down she fell, limbs smacking against the stairs and bannisters until she came to an abrupt stop on the cold ground. The ceiling swam as she finally opened her eyes.

Within a handful of pained breaths, blood coating her teeth and tongue, she watched Tywin loom over her. He had leisurely walked down the winding stairs, uncaring of how he had tried to kill her just moments ago. But perhaps he knew she would survive. This was simply a warning.

“You are a disgrace. You are my wife. I will not be made a fool of any longer. You will not be seen dallying with some Dornish tart prince or his whore. You will not cavort around as if you truly belong here. You do not. You have not earned your place yet.”

“What do you want?” She asked, tongue heavy in her mouth and blood coating her throat. “What do you want?”

“What was promised to me. I do not know what potion you’ve conjured or trick you have conceived, but I will be given an heir. Or I will have your head on a pike.” His thin lips curled into a sneer, the closest she had ever seen to him smile, before he stepped over her crumpled form and out into the sunlight.

And she let herself wallow for just a moment, only until the ceiling stopped spinning and then she rolled onto her side with a wince and grunted as she pushed herself up onto unsteady feet.

“If you want an heir, I’ll produce an heir.” The vow was snarled into the quiet air of the tower.

**

Y/N watched little Morgan toddle away, his hand firmly clasped in the handmaiden’s, babbling excitedly about dragons and princes. And then her eyes once again found Oberyn and Ellaria, both also watching the little lord walk away.

“He looks like you,” Ellaria said with a smile.

“Yes. A small blessing, I suppose.” She watched Oberyn’s smile widen and he unsuccessfully hid it behind his hand.

A sudden movement caught their gaze and they realized that Cersei had come back, apparently ready to parley with the Dragon Queen.

**

A cold cloth was pressed to the swelling of her cheek.

“How cruel, to hurt someone so beautiful.”

The scent of the pleasure house was almost comforting; filled with expensive perfumes and burning incense, it was a welcome reprieve from the stench of the city. But all Y/N truly cared about was how soft Ellaria’s touch was and how gentle the other woman was, even after Y/N had bodily climbed in through the window of their room and collapsed onto the floor.

In a strange stroke of luck, the pair had not been entertaining themselves with another person’s (or multiple people) talents and time. And perhaps she truly did look worse for wear if the pained looks and surprised noises they let out when she lifted her head were any indication.

Ellaria had quickly called for a servant to bring what she needed as Oberyn easily hid Y/N’s crumpled form in their warm bed from any prying eyes.

“I am sorry…” Y/N said, “I am so sorry.”

“Whatever for?” Oberyn asked as he took a seat beside her. Gentle fingers pressed at broken skin at her hairline and he frowned. “You escaped your gilded cage and sought safety with us—there is nothing to apologize for in this instance, Little Titan. You have trusted us. There is no higher honor.”

Ellaria hummed her agreement and continued to clean the cuts and calm the swelling around her face. “But how you managed to evade all those gold and white cloaks is surely a tale to tell.”

Y/N smiled but regretted it when pain bloomed across her entire face and Ellaria tutted as a bit of blood bubbled from a scab. “I do doubt it is anything worthy of repeating. Just a bit of Sweetsleep in some wine and hoping for the best.”

“It took you five days to think of Sweetsleep?” Oberyn teased but there was still a clear undertone of concern in his voice that made her heart clench. They cared.

She had a plan, true. And if they agreed vengeance could belong to all of them. Tywin had taken enough from them. “It took me five days to muster the courage to come to you.”

The simple sentence took the air from the room. Ellaria’s gentle touch paused and Oberyn grasped her hands, careful of the injuries. “Tell us, Little Titan. Tell us what you need.”

Y/N looked to Ellaria first and then Oberyn. “It is my lord-husband.”

“I knew it,” Oberyn said, looking to Ellaria who nodded. “I knew he would. He destroys everything he touches. Everything.”

“And I need to let him think he has—just for a few moons longer.”

“Why? Why wait? I can kill him now and be done with it-”

“I want to kill him,” Y/N said, voice steady. “But I want to take away everything he has created. Everything he has worked for, killed for. I want it all. And you are the only ones who would be able to truly take it from him, the only ones I trust.”

Ellaria and Oberyn looked at each other again before turning back to her. “What is your plan, Little Titan?”

**

She knew Cersei was lying when she said that she would send the Crown’s forces to aid in the fight against the Night King. But it seemed Jon and Daenerys would take her at her word.

Stupid mistake.

As the small crowd dispersed and Y/N continued to play the dutiful peon with a final curtsey, her mind churned. While Cersei had most of the Westerland armies at the capital, some had been allowed to keep to their posts in their homeland. They were Y/N’s to command. And she knew they would listen.

She would not stay in the capital. She did not care if Cersei had expected her to stay. She did not care if the polite thing would be to at least graciously decline the rooms probably readied for her presence.

She did not care.

Her son was in the city. And a war was coming.

The Dragon Queen and Jon Snow were trustworthy. Y/N did not care if the wrath of Cersei was turned on her after this—she could handle Cersei, if needed. But the Realm needed Dragons if they wanted to survive. Daenerys seemed much more reasonable and willing to listen than Cersei ever did so she would not mind if the petite Valyrian sat on the Iron Throne after the dead were dealt with. But that came first.

The small entourage Y/N had arrived with was waiting dutifully by her wheelhouse, also tired of the city, it seemed.

“My lady,” A soft voice said, gaining her attention.

Y/N turned to see Ellaria waiting patiently just outside the Dragon Pit. “Yes?” She took a moment to glance around and see that they were largely alone. Everyone was too preoccupied with their own retreat to pay them any mind.

“We must speak with you.”

Y/N gave one last look to her son, watching him laugh so easily at something a handmaiden whispered into his ear. For now, he was safe.

Y/N turned and linked her arm through Ellaria’s, once again finding an easy comfort in the other woman’s warmth. “I am all yours for a few moments, my lady.”

**

“Lady Lannister, what a sight you are!”

Y/N bit back the snarl at Maester Pycelle’s exclamation. Despite tending to her bruising, swelling and broken skin for nearly a fortnight, she still looked a fright. She knew it. But it was another thing for an old man in tattered rags to announce it so loudly.

“It is nothing. A servant spilled a bit of wine near the stairs and I did not see it. A careless mistake.”

Pycelle nodded. “Yes. Careless. But you should thank the Seven that you are still able to fulfill your earthly, wifely duties.”

Y/N felt her hands curl into fists and tucked them behind her back, ignoring the ache the movement caused. “Yes. Duties.”

Tyrion’s trial had finally started and Y/N was expected to attend. She retrieved Sansa from her locked chambers—a stark contrast from the Black Cells where Tyrion was kept—and had escorted her to the Great Hall, half a dozen kingsguard surrounding them. She had only a moment alone with Sansa in her chambers before she knew she would draw suspicion from the guards waiting outside the door. “You will need to lie, pup.”

“But-”

Y/N grasped Sansa’s chin in a loose grip but her eyes were hard. “You will lie, Sansa. Your life depends on it. I can only keep you safe if you do.”

“What would you have me say?”

“That you knew of Tyrion’s hatred of his nephew but you did not think he would go so far as to poison him.”

Sansa’s blue eyes watered but she nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good, pup. Then you shall be just fine.”

The entire Great Hall was packed with spectators and she took a seat toward the front, near the dais as Margaery’s side, and Sansa had been relegated toward the back, being treated like another accused instead of a witness. The whole thing smacked of Cersei’s bias.

But Y/N held her tongue, watching as Tyrion was escorted into the hall in heavy chains, and stood as Tommen did, following the rest of the crowd. Tywin briefly looked at her, a smug look on his face as he saw the black and red gown she wore—the stupid garment had been the only garment in her chambers that morning. He was not subtle.

“I, Tommen of the House Baratheon, first of my name, King of the Andals, First Men, and Rhyonar, lord of the Seven Kingdoms, hereby recuse myself from this trial. Tywin of the House Lannister, Hand of the King, protector of the realm, will serve as judge in my stead. With him, Prince Oberyn of the House Martell, and Lord Mace of the House Tyrell. If found guilty, may the gods punish the accused.”

As Oberyn moved to take his seat, he caught her eye for just a moment—and that look was all she needed to remember to breathe.

As person after person provided “evidence” against Tyrion, Y/N started to wonder if she would ever be able to leave this stupid hall. There was a slight reprieve in her sheer boredom when Sansa was called forward and she gave testimony that Tyrion did not care for Joffrey but she could not be sure if he truly poisoned his nephew. Her blue eyes glanced toward Y/N for her final words, “but I would not be so bold as to completely clear him of guilt or conspiracy.”

And that proved enough for Tywin to dismiss the little pup and let her retake her seat—without the small troupe of guards surrounding her. Sansa had been deemed innocent.

But this farce of trial was far from over. It continued on and on—and even included an appearance from Shae, who was apparently Tyrion’s lover. How quaint. Oberyn easily saw right through her lies and made nearly everyone present squirm with a double entendre. Y/N hid her smile behind her hand and ignored the blood bursting from her healing lip.

But the joy was short lived when Tyrion exclaimed, “I demand a trial by combat.”

**

Oberyn was waiting in a dark hollow of the dragon pit’s crumbling walls and drew both Ellaria and Y/N into his arms. He kissed Ellaria slowly and then pressed his warm lips against Y/N’s pulse. It sent familiar shivers down her spine.

“You are planning something, Little Titan.”

“As are you, my prince.”

Ellaria sighed. “You two are impossible.”

Y/N ducked her head with a smile. “A fair assessment, my lady, but I do not think you would enjoy us half as much if we were not constantly scheming.”

“You know the lioness will not honor her word,” Oberyn cut in quickly. His grip tightened around them.

“Of course not. She will wait for the Night King to both wipe out her enemies and then try to fight him herself, or attack after the battle is won and their numbers are depleted.” While Cersei thought herself Tywin’s true heir in manners of warfare and plotting, the only true manner she had inherited from her father was her inability to forget a slight. “I will not stand by and wait for the dead to reach Casterly Rock. Not while my son is…” the words died on her tongue.

But Ellaria grasped her hand and squeezed it tight. “You have something to fight for. We all do.”

“Dorne will fight beside you. We will fight for the living.”

**

“It is for luck,” Y/N said with a small smile. “Even the bravest in Braavos drink it. I have not seen a single man who drank this fall to his opponent.”

“I do not need to drink your potion to kill the Dornishman.” Of course, Ser Gregor Clegane would say something like that. His reputation and his (stupid) moniker of The Mountain might have been well earned but that did not mean Y/N any higher of him. In fact, his inability to think for himself when Tywin gave an order only made him smaller in her eyes.

Easy prey.

But that did not mean she would let Oberyn handle him on his own.

Y/N raised the cup a little higher, pressing a worried expression to her face. “It is more for my nerves, my lord, I assure you. I have heard of your prowess even across the Narrow Sea. But please,” she reached out to place a hand on his arm, a pretty picture of genteel worry, “calm my heart.”

Gregor nearly sneered as he took the cup and drained it in one gulp. “For you, Lady Lannister.”

Y/N reached out to take the cup back with a quick dip of her chin and another smile. “I thank you, Ser Gregor.”

She handed it off to a handmaiden and then let herself be escorted to her seat under the canopy, sitting aside her husband. She watched Oberyn and Ellaria speak to Tyrion under their own canopy, happily drinking wine and eating berries. The confidence they had in Oberyn was palpable—and for good reason. But Y/N never did like to watch an even match.

It was too boring.

Pycelle prattled on about how the gods would decide the fate of the trial by combat and soon the two men were engaged in battle.

Oberyn delighted in each blow and catch of his spear into the Mountain’s hulking form and made sure Gregor knew who his opponent was. “I am the brother of Elia Martell. Do you know why I have come all the way to this stinking shit-pile of a city? For you.” Another catch and parry. “I'm going to hear you confess before you die. You raped my sister. You murdered her. You killed her children. Say it now and we can make this quick.” Another clash of blades. “Say it. You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.” Y/N watched Clegane stumble, nearly fall to his knees, as Oberyn landed a kick to his hulking form.

“You murdered her! You killed her children!” Each word out of Oberyn’s mouth grew louder and louder.

Even over the din of the crowd starting to roar, Y/N heard Gregor’s shuddering breath as he struggled to his feet and his grip seemed to loosen on his broadsword.

Oberyn sank the end of his spear into Gregor’s side and quickly gave another, dodging a loose-gripped swipe of The Mountain’s sword at his neck. He stepped back only to watch the giant of a man stumble with a smirk. Oberyn charged at the Mountain to give him one final blow. Blood spurted out of Gregor’s mouth as Oberyn pulled his spear back.

The earth itself seemed to rumble as Gregor finally fell to his knees.

“Wait. Are you dying? No, no, no. You can't die yet,” Oberyn mocked. “You haven't confessed. Say it. Say her name. Elia Martell. You raped her. You killed her children. Elia Martell. Who gave you the order? Who gave you the order?!” Oberyn lifted a hand and pointed toward Tywin.

And for the millionth time since Oberyn had arrived in the city, Y/N had to hide a smile.

“Say her name! You raped her! You murdered her! You killed her children. Say it. Say her name. Say it!”

Y/N did not move her gaze from the ring, uncaring of Tywin’s reaction. She would remember how the crowds gasped and started to murmur. In a single moment, the rumor that had almost been forgotten had been reignited. She was not surprised to learn that Oberyn had declared himself Tyrion’s champion when Gregor was called in for the crown.

And she wanted to make sure Oberyn was given at least a small bit of justice.

But Gregor could not answer. He fell forward, more blood pouring from his mouth, arms shaking to keep him from completely collapsing.

“Tell me!” Oberyn roared. “Tell me!” He leaned down to listen to something The Mountain said, whispered only for him to hear. But when he stood, Oberyn swung his spear and buried it into the Mountain’s head.

**

Y/N, Ellaria, and Oberyn plotted to move their loyal forces for only a little longer, keeping both the Dragon Queen and Crazed Lioness from overhearing. But soon-

“Mama! Mama!” And for the second time that day, Y/N was nearly leveled by her son throwing himself at her legs.

“We must work on your patience, my love. I was nearly finished.” She hauled the squirming boy into her arms and kissed his cheek. “We shall have supper at the inn but the hill when I am finished, hm? They have that pie you like.”

Morgan happily nodded and squirmed again, wanting to be let down. As his little feet hit the broken stone, he turned to look up at Oberyn and Ellaria, smiling wide. “Hello again, Prince Oberyn!”

Oberyn smiled and leaned down to Morgan’s level before gesturing to Ellaria who smiled fondly down at him. “This is Ellaria Sand, the love of my life.”

Morgan’s little hand reached out to Ellaria and he pressed a quick peck to her fingers, much to her delight. “My lady.” His following bow only continued to earn giggles.

Y/N watched Oberyn as he observed the little scene. His face was serene yet sad. And she knew why.

“You have a viper’s eyes, little lord.”

Morgan preened at the compliment despite not knowing what it meant. “Thank you, Prince Oberyn!”

**

King’s Landing was a powder keg.

After ‘the gods’ deemed Tyrion innocent, he fled in the night. But Cersei continued to rage and rage and rage, still offering a hefty sum for Tyrion’s head on a platter. Tommen and Margaery were married in another lavish ceremony and the Tyrells continued to press their influence over their city and the new king, only pushing Cersei further toward the edge. Tywin would hold daily meetings with the Small Council and with Lady Olenna, trying to keep the precarious balance of power decidedly in his favor.

And all that distraction proved very fortuitous for Y/N.

“Oh please, please,” she gasped as Oberyn continued to move.

Ellaria chuckled above her before moving Y/N’s mouth back to between her thighs. Y/N had always been very talented with her tongue. It was something Ellaria was happy to learn.

“Patience,” Oberyn said in a breathy huff. “You are always so greedy.”

But Y/N simply buried herself further into the soft patch of curls between Ellaria’s thighs as Oberyn canted his hips just slightly, letting her feel him nearly in her stomach.

They had done this every day—and almost every night—as Tywin was distracted.

Oberyn’s warm, calloused hands curled over Y/N’s thighs, anchoring them around his waist as his pace grew faster and faster. And Ellaria sighed, holding Y/N’s head still as she found her high and coated Y/N’s lips with her release—sticky and sweet.

“Are you nearly done, my love?” Ellaria’s voice was raspy and she did not move from her seat on Y/N’’s mouth, even as she shook with overstimulation. Y/N was greedy—Oberyn had rightly branded her so. And Ellaria tasted so good. “You do have a meeting to attend.”

Oberyn huffed but his pace did increase and the coil in Y/N’s belly wounded tighter and tighter, for the third time that morning, and then finally snapped as Oberyn groaned before leaning forward to press a kiss to Ellaria’s kiss-slick lips. Warmth bloomed and Y/N shook.

Yes. King’s Landing was a powder keg. But it was delicious.

And when Y/N passed the Small Council chamber later that morning she nearly snorted as she heard Tywin say, “You look tired, Prince Oberyn.”

And Oberyn, ever the viper, responded, “yes, my lover and I are trying for another child. I have heard you are trying for another heir, too, no?”

When the next morning came and Tywin left her bed, let him be for a moment before readying herself for the day. She slipped into his chambers and put on her dutiful-wife mask, one she had worn so well for the past handful of moons.

“I will be speaking with the Maesters this morning.”

“Oh?” Tywin responded, buttoning his tunic.

“Yes, I have been feeling poorly and I have missed my last moon blood. I am hoping I will have good news for you soon.”

Tywin was quiet for a moment before he hummed. It almost sounded happy. “You will tell me immediately what they say. Do you understand?”

“Of course, my lord.” She pulled his Hand of the King pin from atop one of his trunks and handed it to him. “I would have Sansa as a ward. King’s Landing has only made her a scared little thing—she will cow in front of the Northmen she’s supposed to rally to your grandson’s cause.”

“And you believe you may shape her into something-”

“Someone who will command respect and is loyal, my lion. Your daughter, for all her charms, was not suited to mold someone as gentle as Sansa. Her children were born with a steel core. Little Sansa needs a gentle, shaping hand.” Y/N slipped her arms around Tywin’s shoulders as he adjusted the pin over his heart. “I know you have an allegiance with Lord Bolton who you have named the Warden of the North in the Starks’ absence. The Northmen’s loyalty to them is tenuous at best. I know you strive for peace. If you could arrange for Sansa and the Boltons to find common ground, I know it would give you a small bit of reprieve to know you no longer had to worry about the North revolting. Again.”

Tywin froze—just for a moment. “Perhaps you aren’t as useless as I had been beginning to suspect.”

Y/N only smiled.

And after having the Maesters confirm that she was with child, she knew Tywin would come to her bed chamber again. She offered him a cup of wine in celebration and watched him drain it as he smirked. And she let him undo the laces of her dress. She let him pull her chemise over her head. She let him press her down into the pillows.

And then he paused. His eyes screwed shut with a pained groan. Tywin fell to the side and Y/N happily climbed over him.

“What…have you done?”

Y/N felt the slash of a smile grow across her face. “I have taken everything from you.” Her hands folded over her stomach. “You have only moments to live. But life grows within me. And your line has ended.” She watched the light fade from his eyes before forcing tears into her own. She let a few trickle down her cheeks for maximum effect before climbing off her husband’s lap and pulling on a dressing robe before dashing to the door and flinging it open. “My husband, please! Please someone help my husband!”

**

“Does he know?” Oberyn asked quietly as he helped Y/N lift little Morgan into the carriage. The child had fallen asleep at the table, nearly tipping over his prized pie. A day full of excitement had worn him out. He had caught a single glimpse of a dragon as their traveling party departed the city and had animatedly recounted the story to anyone and everyone who would listen. Oberyn and Ellaria had quietly followed.

“He knows his father is a brave, strong man. Who is loyal to his word, devoted to his family, and a hero for the ages.”

“Does he believe it is Tywin?” Oberyn asked, his fingers brushing the dark hair away from his son’s forehead.

“I believe he is smart enough to understand it is not.” She paused. “He is heir to the Lannister seat of power. He will hold everything Tywin worked so hard to build and protect. But the Lannister bloodline has ended. Yours will continue—yours will hold his seat of power until the gods deem this world finished. House Lannister is now your blood—your son.”

“But will he know the truth? Will he ever know me as his father?”

“Of course,” she said with a small smile. “When the time is right, and I know he can keep this secret, he will know your name as his true father. He will know you, love you.”

“And you? What of you?”

“What of me?” She repeated. “What would you need of me?”

Oberyn and Ellaria locked eyes for a moment before their penetrating gazes moved back to her. “We will want you as well.”

“Me?”

“We will always want you.”

Y/N sucked in a breath, trembling for the first time in decades. “Will you ever forgive me?”

**

Gone were the washes of gaudy crimson fabric and she was once again permitted to drape herself in black. She was a widow now. Perhaps that suited her. And now that Tywin was dead, she saw no reason to stay in King’s Landing. Tywin, before his tragic death of a bad heart, had announced to the court that Y/N was with child. It had only cemented her status as the true ruler of Casterly Rock.

Before she departed, Cersei called her into her chambers for tea. It was the most civil Cersei had ever been toward her and it was still laced with unsubtle threats and verbal barbs.

“The newest Lannister. A new brother,” Cersei mused, her eyes pointedly looking at Y/N’s stomach. “I hope they look like father.”

“I do doubt they will look like Lannisters.”

“Oh?” Cersei said, mouth tilting just so. “Are you so sure?”

“I do not look like a Lannister, your grace. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“Yes, but the seed is strong-”

“Not strong enough. I assure you. The babe will look like me. After all, it seems you have taken all the luck and used it on your children—all of them, green-eyed and golden-haired. What are the chances? Hm?” Y/N finished her tea and stood. “I thank you for the company, your grace. But it is time for me to leave.” And Y/N turned and left without being dismissed, a smile on her face all the while.

And she left. She left without saying goodbye to Oberyn and Ellaria—her only friends in the city. She left knowing it would hurt them. But trying to find a moment to find them, to explain, would only cast suspicion on the paternity of her child. Because she knew she would not be able to stop herself from falling into their arms one last time.

Sansa gave her a small smile as they both settled into the wheelhouse and soon they were off.

Months slipped by and the pregnancy was largely uneventful.

She had kept her distance when she had heard of the Greyjoy attack on Myrcella’s boat and the princess’ death. She kept all the sword hands she could within the borders of the Westerlands when Cersei seized power from the Tyrells after the mysterious death of Tommen. She declared herself queen and threw Margaery into the Black Cells, threatening to send her head to Olenna if the Reach rebelled. She had played the part of careful, dutiful Lady of the Rock very well. She had kept Cersei’s eye off her kingdom and focused on the threats she perceived from across the Narrow Sea or the North.

Sansa had been a dutiful student. When Lord Bolton asked if Sansa would be willing to marry his son, Ramsey, she accepted, even knowing the boy’s reputation to be cold and cruel. Crueler still after the mysterious and suspicious death of his father.

But he never touched Sansa. No. On their wedding night, Ramsey fell ill and then never woke.

But Sansa was the Lady of Winterfell again—a Stark was in the North.

And it was so easy for the North to rally to her cause and the North rose up in revolt again. It made Y/N laugh.

But soon the baby was coming—far sooner than she had anticipated. With a final scream, it was over. A baby’s cries filled the air and a bloody, squirming infant was placed in her arms, wrapped in black silk.

“A boy, my lady. A healthy boy. Have you thought of a name?”

Y/N felt tears start to gather in her eyes as she looked down at her son—her beautiful son. The spitting image of her—but then his eyes opened. And he had his father’s eyes. Viper eyes. “His name is Morgan.”

**

Y/N’s lips still burned from the kiss Oberyn and Ellaria left her with before they departed.

And her heart was lighter, too. They had forgiven her—had said there was nothing, truly, to forgive. “You were protecting your child. My child.”

Morgan stirred in her arms as the wheelhouse rode over a bump. “Mama?”

“Yes, my love?”

His viper eyes opened and she smiled, seeing them shine in the low light of the evening. “Will we see Prince Oberyn and Lady Ellaria again?”

Her smile widened. “Yes. I can promise you that.”

-

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[jabbagabba]

La La Land

Read Prologue

Warning ⚠️

Triggering subjects: disassociation, manipulation, mind control, grief. (READ AT OWN RISK)

Wandavision: spoilers (up to episode 6 - just to be safe), violence

———

Pools Of Despair

You weren’t sure how long it’d been, the drive feeling as though it had taken a lifetime. It might have been just down the road and you wouldn’t have been able to tell; time seemed to move torturously slow under Wanda’s control.

She tried to keep herself calm besides your frozen body, already thinking of a way out as she turned the steering wheel. But it was too late to go back.

‘No other way. No other way.’ The words replayed over and over in her head as she finally made it to the front of the building, and it was the first time she fully looked at you. Your face was stoic, the only sign of life being the soft breaths escaping your mouth. You couldn’t look at her - even if you wanted to - and as she reached a hand to your face, the feeling of complete numbness returned.

During the drive there had been small moments of clarity; moments where for the first time you felt in control. It was almost euphoric being able to push through the fog.

But then, as quickly as it had subsided, she would crawl her way back in.

Even now as she turned you toward her fully, you tried to swim through the heaviness, but the black swirls of grief and anguish just got tighter the harder you fought.

Wanda sighed in annoyance. “You can’t go in looking like that.” She pulled at a strand of her hair with a small huff. “Need glasses.”

You were sure if you had control of your body, the pain of your neck would be unbearable, the awkward angle surely making every muscle strain as you were forced to watch her pull apart the car.

This had to have been owned by the only man on the planet that didn’t carry sunglasses in their car. Wanda almost laughed, a punishment for stealing it? She couldn’t be sure.

“Well...” Wanda pulled the blue and white baseball cap by the brim from under her seat. “Better then nothing.” She gave a small smile as she adjusted it on your head, pulling back and grabbing your hand and letting it rest in her lap. “If there was any other way, I swear, I would let you go. But... I just... I can’t live without him.”

You said nothing as she cried.

———

“Head down, get Vision. Leave.” Her voice plagued your every step, each word carved into your brain as you finally reached the front desk.

‘Sword’ was a nice place - or at least had nice flooring - and from the bright light that filled each and every inch of the glossy tile, you knew there had to be a lot of glass. It was a government building after all.

“Can I help you?” Her voice is chirpy, a polite smile painted on her lips, you don’t need to see her eyes to know it wasn’t anything but genuine. She lets the wheels of her chair carry her forward, her computer forgotten besides her as you near the desk.

“Do you have... a meeting?” She smiles again, more forced and you’re able to see the golden pin on her chest that proudly says ‘Mary’ and try once more to float above the darkness.

“I -“ The word leaves your lips aprubtly and the fight drains from you just as fast. “I’m here to inquire about some of my father’s equipment. I’d like it back.” You let the darkness swallow you whole.

“And who are you again?” Mary is quick to pull her deskphone to her ear, hand hovering over the numbers.

———

The name that fell from her lips made Mary freeze. She looked up with wide eyes, both fearful and exited.

Starks were top priority at ‘SWORD’ - she was sure they were top priority everywhere - and as she desperately tried to recall if her boss mentioned anything about Stark equipment, the girl’s patients quickly wore thin.

“Can you please just tell me where to go? I have a long drive ahead of me.” Her voice was a sharp contrast from her apparance. The girl’s voice was stern and loud while her body was scrunched in on itself, eyes glued to the desk. Mary took a glance over the desk and saw the dark fabric of a dress, the hat didn’t even match the girl’s shoes.

“Right.” Mary said. “I’m sorry, just a little... starstruck.” She tried to keep her cool, turning again in her chair and started typing as fast as possible on her little keyboard. The atmosphere was thick with uncomfortable silence and Mary had to make sure not to shiver in the girl’s presence. She scrolled down the list of names and let out a small “ah” when she found your name. Just as quickly as she clicked on it, a pop up window filled the screen

STARK - Access Denined. Call Security

She felt sick; her nerves making her skin pucker as she tried to keep calm. When Mary finally found the courage to move, bile reached through her throat as she saw red eyes looking back.

“Ahh!” Mary was quick to jump out of her chair.

“Fine.” The girl sighed, hand flat on the counter as she took long strides around it. “If you won’t help me.” A red trail flowed through one of the doors; slithering like a snake as it wrapped around the shell shocked receptionist. “I’ll do it myself.”

———

Wanda’s mind had warped, grief and anger become one as she ripped through each and every room of the building. No one was safe from the witch’s wrath as she swung them through various glass panels and equipment. By the third turn she took, guards had given up, opting to instead try desperately to get out of her way.

She had left you at the desk, too transfixed to care and as she heard the various shouts of alarm from down the hallway, she was glad you weren’t in her way.

———

The group of four man were shocked; watching as the two guards dropped their guns and put their hands up for mercy.

“We’ll give you what you want. Please!” One of them - Felix - cried as the woman barreled through the double doors.

Wanda simply flicked her hand and he was sent flying to a wall, his partner following.

“Where is he?” Her accent was thick and the youngest tech almost asked her to repeat herself. “Where is Vision?” The stunned silence only fueled her anger. “You.” Red swirled under one of the men’s feet and lifted him from the ground. “Where?”

If the man could have, he’d be shivering in fear right about now. His life was in the hands of a deranged woman who with a simple flick of her wrist could send him plummeting down ten floors.

Wanda tightened her hold on him in warning and he knew he had to speak.

“Behind us.” He said. “There is a set of double doors, turn left and there’s an examination room.”

“He should be there!” A colleague on his left was shaking as she turn to face him. “He’s not lying.” Wanda let her power swim under him once more beofre gently letting him go.

“Thank you.” She gave a small smile. “Now, go.”

They didn’t have to be told twice.

———

Wanda felt as though she couldn’t breathe, the sight of her dead lover on the table was crippling. Vision was a dark grey; his eyes blank as they stared into her. If it wasn’t for the table itself she would have probably collapsed on to the floor as sobs took over her.

“I cant. I can’t. I -“ The words fell from her lips like a mystical chant. She couldn’t look at him anymore, his body was nothing but an empty shell of parts.

When her body turned to ash; Wanda was ready to die, her last shred of humanity died with Vision. The battlefield would be her final resting place. She chose to spend her last moments hoping that If there was a God that they’d be merciful, that she’d be allowed to spent her afterlife in blissful ignorance.

But instead she woke up.

Five years had passed and she was still there, only now she was alone. It was only after the death of Tony Stark that she let the floodgate of loss fill up her veins. While Thanos was alive, she had a mission; kill him and reverse the snap.

Wanda never imagined the pain that followed. She should have died that day, why couldn’t she have died that day?

Grief had a knack for turning the strongest people into helpless pools of despair.

Vision deserved better. That was what go her up, got her to calm her tears and push herself up. She wasn’t going to let them win. Vision was hers to mourn, to love, and hers to take care of.

She had a new mission, one that was stronger then her need to submit to pain.

But... she needed help carrying him.

———

Your body moved through the halls, following the tethered rope of energy that wrapped around your waist. If it wasn’t for your boots, your feet would have been covered in cuts from the sharp edges of the broken glass that filled the hallways.

The fog had cleared more then before and if you tried hard enough, you might’ve even been able to pull free completely. Wanda was exhausted and the fight had been ripped from you So you let her pull you, let the fog seep through every inch of you.

And as you entered the small room, you forgot you were suppose to care anymore.

“I need you to hold onto his legs.” She said softly, hand stroking his cheek. “Easier to carry both of you.” Your body moved again and you placed a gentle hand onto vision’s ankle.

Wanda wiped the last of her tears away, grabbed onto his arm, and all three of you were lifted off the ground.

———

Hot air blew through Wanda’s hair making her hands continuously push back strands from her face as she walked. The afternoon sun was unrelenting and she had to take several short breaks.

The car was too dangerous to return to - a swarm of agents was not something she wanted to deal with - and controlling someone for almost 24 hour straight took a lot out of her. Her hold on you was weak enough for you to sometimes fully take over, her control turning into a dull ache at the back of your brain.

As she walked in front of you thoughts of running flooded through your brain but the walking had tired your body out, and you were sure that if her little pushes weren’t there, you’d have already collapsed. Even if you had the strength to do it, the empty roads had long ago turned into tall trees and bush. You were in the middle of nowhere and getting loss in the woods with a heartbroken witch was not something you wanted to deal with. So, like a trained puppy, you followed silently behind Vision’s dragging body. It wasn’t hard to keep up, she was as slow as she could be while Vision’s body left a dirt trail.

“Break.” Wanda breathed. Who knew an empty little spot of grass would be so inviting? “Sit.” You felt a small push and follow it down to the ground. You let your fingers grip the direr under them, the cool breeze making you sigh.

“Where-“ The sound of your voice startled both of you but she stayed still. “Where are we going?”

She said nothing, choosing to instead turn on her knees and pull Vision forward by the arms.

“When I was little-“ Wanda smiled to herself as she stared down at Vision. “- I use to dream about this field. Me and Peitro went past it everyday during the summer. It had all these small flowers growing.” You listen intently as she giggles, eyes losing focus as she is hit with the memory. “I always tried to sneak past the fence... but, I was alway stopped by someone.” Her mouth twitches and you feel the pulsing return in your neck. “It’s probably nothing but dirt now, like everything.”

“Where are we going, Wanda?” You try to keep your voice soft, afraid of ruining the small moment as you reached out for her but she was quick to stop you, hand glowing red and inches away from your face.

“Don’t.” She warns. You nod in silent apology.

“We’re not far from a road.” Wanda let’s her hand fall back to her side. “I want you go and call whoever you need to.” You’re almost startled when her control leaves fully from your body, it almost feels empty. “Tell them what I did, or don’t, I don’t care. I have what I want.”

“Wanda -“

“Please.” The crack in her voice makes tears pool in your eyes. “Just go.”

You stand on shaking legs. The world was spinning and you felt as though you had just gotten off a rollercoaster but you tried to steady yourself. Unsure of where to go, you turn to her once more for guidance and she simply points behind you.

Your conscious wouldn’t let you leave. Wanda was tired and you were afraid of leaving her alone. Regardless of what she did; you knew you couldn’t blame her, she had lost everyone.

In a way, so did you.

“I’m sorry about Vision.” Wanda looked up again and gave you a small nod. “About Pietro, about everyone. I wish it was different.”

“Me too, Stark.” She let her fingers wrap around your hand and squeezed. The warmth from the dock returned and you couldn’t help but give her a small grin of gratitude. “I meant what I said at the funeral.”

Both of you were so wrapped up in your own little bubble, you didn’t even question why the birds stopped.

————

Tag list (open, just ask)

@white-wolf-buckaroo @y-napotat

All my stuff is open, and I’m always happy to hear from people so feel free to let me know what ya thought. I always get stuck halfway through writing but I hope it wasn’t too hard to read.

Next chapter will be fun.

[veggieheist]

Witch!AU Reylo is always a good time 🤩🙌✨🔥

More art on my Instagram✨

Story blurb down below!👇

Rated T

cn // witches , witchcraft , kidnapping , fear of assault

✨🍄✨

Kylo Ren stood in the cool shade of a tree, leaning against the wide trunk nonchalantly, ignoring the other people gathered there to take advantage of the respite from the heat. In the branches above him a mourning dove cooed, a soft sound among the chatter of people and the buzz of the cicadas.

In his hand was a piece of ashwood, small chunks carved out by the whittling knife in his other. He took care with his work, but his sharp eyes lifted every so often, focusing on the girl selling wares from her wagon across the dirt road from the tree. The heat did not seem to affect her much, her tanned skin evidence of her love for the sun.

Kylo watched her over the course of the day. She smiled at passersby, spoke matter-of-factly to those seeking tonics for ailments, laughed with a woman who seemed to enjoy telling local gossip to a new ear, and now seemed very unaffected by the flirtations of a young man. 

Kylo’s eyes narrowed, his hands stilling. The boy was persistent, and she was getting irritated. When the boy tried to reach for her hand, Kylo watched as she let him, pulling close enough for her to whisper something in his ear. Kylo’s skin tingled as the magic wove through the air. The boy staggered back, a dazed look on his face, and then wandered away.

A repelling spell. Kylo scoffed. Smart. But not very smart to do something like that out here, in the open, where anyone could see. The girl’s eyes darted about, looking for the alerted gaze of someone who may have noticed her act of forbidden magic, but there was only one audience member to her indiscretion, and he had his hood up, enchanted to ward off any notice. He was as if part of the shadows; unassuming and forgettable. Her eyes slid over him as expected, and Kylo smirked, returning to his whittling. 

She was the reason he was stood here, sweltering in his black robes and armor. She was a witch, even though she tried to hide it behind her simple tonics and herbs. He’d been tracking her for days, and finally caught up with her here. 

He was on a mission from his master to capture her, and even though he knew not what the purpose was--she was hardly trained, seeming only to be able to harness the bare minimum of power afforded to their kind--but Kylo was not going to question it. 

In the shade of the tree, Kylo wiped the sweat from his brow and adjusted his position against the rough bark of the trunk. In his hands the knife moved through the wood object, its shape taking form.

It wouldn’t be difficult to snatch her. He already had a plan; all he had to do now was wait. 

--O*O--

Rey finished gathering up her wares from the table she had set up outside her wagon home, bringing them up the steps to place in the cabinet designed to neatly hold them. It had been a lucrative day, so there weren’t as many going in as she had taken out, and she patted her coin purse with a smile before hiding it. 

She folded the table next to bring it inside as well, setting it back up in front of the bench seat along the right wall. Her wagon was a modest home, but cozy. Her bed was along the back wall, a nest filled with blankets and pillows, an array colorful beads on hanging strings glittered from the waning sunlight coming in through a small window. 

The left side wall contained more cabinets with dishware and food, jars with herbs and preserves, and a small woodfire stove. The right side wall had more cabinets still, although these ones were kept locked. Inside were books, old scrolls, and grimoires, but also some amulets and dangerous items not meant to be handled by innocent humans. 

Rey couldn’t afford to be caught, so she hid them behind concealing charms and repelling spells. No one would search those cabinets because they would seem far too boring to garner any attention. 

She’d already had a close call earlier in the day, when an inquisitive constable had approached her table. He’d carried a large cross hung from his neck, and a sharp look to his eyes. She’d smiled broadly at him, hoping he couldn’t see the anxiety making her sweat. It’s just the heat, she would have said if he’d asked. 

“‘Tonics and tinctures,’ eh? You a witch?” He’d crudely asked, not even trying to be tactful. 

“My great great grandmother was one, sir,” she answered, a lie, probably, since she didn’t know her family, “but all I have is a penchant for medicines. I have a signed letter from a priest, Christening me as a Holy Hand.” 

Most people like her did that--connected themselves to a church to avoid being burned at the stake. They were less likely to be looked at with contempt if it seemed like they were doing God’s work. 

Rey just needed money to get away. To go anywhere. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but so far she hadn’t found it. 

The constable had looked over her letter with a critical eye, but ultimately gave it back and continued on his way with a gruff, “Don’t stay too long.”

It was a warning she would heed. She’d be on the road by first light in the morning. 

Rey brought feed and water to her Clydesdale, murmuring softly to him as he munched. “On to the next town in the morning, Bibi.” Then she whispered a spell to strengthen him and climbed the steps back up into her home. Being a Clydesdale, Bibi was the only kind of horse able to pull her wooden camper by himself, but she still tried to help with whatever magic she could manage. 

Rey shut the wooden door and made a simple meal of bread and vegetable soup, eating at the table silently. By the dying light from the three windows about the cabin, Rey knew it was time to draw the curtains and ready for bed. The lamps filled the small home with warm light, and she was just reaching to untie her corset when a knock came on the door. 

Rey frowned, going to it. There was a latch to open a small window and see who was calling, but it was still difficult to make out the shadowy features of the hooded man standing outside. 

“I’m closed for the evening,” she said. “If you need something I can help you in the morning.”

She closed the latch before the man could answer, a wave of cold gooseflesh making her shiver. The visitor was silent, and she wondered if he’d walked away after a moment of not detecting any sound. She moved to her small closet again when the door latch clicked and swung open.

Rey stood straight, alarmed, sure that she’d locked it. 

“I’m closed,” she said with more conviction, the words for her repelling spell on the tip of her tongue. 

The man who entered her humble dwelling had to duck to get through the small door frame, and his head nearly brushed against the roof. He was broad, dressed in black, and as he entered Rey saw the flash of red gems embedded in the hilt of his sword at his hip.

She sucked in a breath. An inquisitor? Here? Had the constable sent for one?

But no, he didn’t carry any sign of the cross, nor did he have the stench of smoke that seemed to permeate an inquisitor as if their souls were made of ash.

This man had a darkness about him, but he was no witch burner. 

He removed his hood and suddenly Rey felt like her eyes could focus again. She frowned, blinking. Strange. He was handsome, with dark hair in waves to his shoulders, a large nose somehow more elegant than ugly, and piercing eyes the color of whiskey. He seemed to not care that she had already told him twice she was not open.

Rey swallowed but steeled herself. She’d warded off enough men in her life to be able to take this one on easily. 

His eyes went from scanning her to roaming around her living space. She couldn’t help to feel judged, and it made her scowl.

“If you need something, I can help you in the morning,” she said, voice hard. “Please leave.”

He finally looked back at her. Somehow he seemed to fill the entire wagon up with his presence, even though he was still standing in front of the door. That it was open helped Rey feel less trapped.

“I’m looking for something,” he said, ignoring her again. “A kind of herb. Willow’s Needle.”

Rey shook her head. “Willow’s Needle is a forbidden herb, used only by witches. I’m one of the Holy Hand, I don’t do witchcraft. Here,” she found the priest's letter and held it out for him. She tried to control the shaking of her hand. “It’s signed by Father Michael from--”

There was a gust of wind from the open door, blowing the letter from her hand and extinguishing all but one lamp that hung above her bed. The door swung shut, enclosing them together.

Rey stepped back, her heart thundering. The man stood still, staring at her with dark eyes. 

“Are you here to kill me?” She asked, thinking of the knives kept in the drawer by the stove. The man was closer, but Rey knew that even if she could get one it would be no match for his sword. And even then, she had a feeling this man was far deadlier than the piece of sharpened metal at his side.

“No,” he said, taking a slow step forward. He was like an encroaching black cloud, and for all the magic Rey knew she had under her fingertips, she was finding herself far too overwhelmed by his presence to think straight enough to use it. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he told her quietly, within arms reach now. “I feel it too.”

“Feel what?” Rey whispered. 

His lips quirked up on one side.

“Magic.”

His hands rose and Rey took an alarmed step back, gathering strength to try and throw him with a spell, but she stopped. Lights began to sparkle to life as he whispered into his cupped hands, a dazzling display of power that Rey hadn’t witnessed in years. Not since she was a child, before she was taught to keep hidden. 

Her curtains were closed so one would see this forbidden show except her, but it still felt like she shouldn’t even be looking. What if someone saw? What if they accused her of it?

The man lowered his hands to show her his creation, and Rey stepped closer, entranced, warmed by the light. She gave a delighted gasp at the tiny bird made of magic nestled in his gloved palms, and she glanced up to see a much softer expression as he watched her in turn. Rey looked back at the bird, shy in the face of this nameless man’s attention. This rare male witch.

All at once it didn’t matter that he had barged into her home and frightened her. He was like her, and maybe that meant he was lonely too. Maybe he was here to find a traveling partner. Someone to be himself with. 

Rey’s heart ached to be truly seen by someone who wouldn’t be afraid of her.

She’d instinctively held her arms to her chest in a shield when he’d advanced, but now one hand unclenched, wanting to show she wasn’t afraid, that she accepted his magic. The little bird chirped a twinkling song, and Rey smiled, wanting to see if it was as soft as it looked. 

“Go on,” the man murmured, as if he could hear her thoughts. “You can take it.”

Rey smiled and accepted the warm illusion into her own palms. It was a very convincing mirage, one she had never been able to conjure herself. She looked up again, but the man’s face was closed again, his eyes sharp, and all at once Rey felt the illusion evaporate. As soon as the small wooden carving of a bird touched her skin, her whole body froze. 

She couldn’t move. Only her eyes widened in horror at her error. Ashwood.

“It’s a paralysis charm,” he explained as her dread rose. “Carved into the wood. A simple thing, really. Any witch worth her salt would have been able to detect it.” He stepped close, all warmth gone, his cold eyes calculating as they scanned her frozen form once again.

“I don’t know why my master would want a weak vagrant like you, but I suppose you’ll have your uses.”

Rey could only whimper at the implication, and she wished she could move and fight back. But her hands had seized around the bird figurine as if in a cramp, and she knew she would not become unfrozen until it was no longer in her grasp.

The dark witch-man bent and easily picked her up into his arms, her body pliant but still out of her control. He took the few steps to her bed and settled her down in the pillows. Her eyes watched him fearfully, the worst thoughts of his intentions flitting across her mind, a desperation beginning to bloom in her breast that nearly had her whining in an attempt to beg him not to defile her.

But he actually pulled the edge of her skirts down to cover her exposed calves, and then straightened, not giving her unguarded body a second glance.

“You should try to sleep,” he told her. “Fretting won’t do you any good, and the spell won’t go away until the bird does.” 

And then he turned and left, the wood creaking beneath his heavy boots, the door clicking shut behind him. Rey heard the lock latch into place, and then the sounds of heavy hoofs, and straps being moved. The wagon lurched as Bibi was attached to his leads, unfamiliar with the man doing it. Rey willed the horse to stomp him, to run away and find help for her, but she felt a wall in her mind. 

Whoever this witch-man was, he was far more powerful a person than Rey had ever encountered before. 

She heard boots climbing to the perch near the window by her bed, and then the flick of reins. The next time the wagon lurched, it stayed in motion, the whole cabin swaying and jostling from the unpaved road. 

Rey had no idea where she was being taken, or by whom, but she knew if she was going to survive this kidnapping she was going to have to use all of her wits she could muster. 

Anything less and she was sure to succumb to whatever dark agenda awaited her at the end of this journey. 

✨🍄✨

[zeldas-cigarette-holder]

Ground Control to Major Tom

ao3

Faustus finally allowed himself to tear his gaze from Zelda’s face to look at the dog, felt his heart nearly stop when he realized that Satan, she had surely gone bloody batshit. It wasn’t a dog, the mere ghost of one — and poorly stuffed, at that.

I don’t truly know why I wrote this, but it ended up way sadder than I had ever expected a story about Zelda’s ugly stuffed dog to be. Tagging as spellwood, but there’s truly no shippy moments unless you read between the lines exceptionally well.

Enjoy xx

It had been ages since he had walked up to the mortuary, even longer since had seen her outside of any professional setting — perhaps decades, he mused to himself as he strolled up the long driveway.

The house looked the same as it had the last time he was there, just a few short months before the Spellman parents’ passing. He had gone to break the news of his engagement to Constance — left with his heart shattered at the shocked, tearful look in Zelda’s eyes. She so rarely showed emotion, it shook him to his core to see it. After that — the image of her mouth agape, eyes welled up with tears she refused to let fall, and the breathy little sound she let out as a response — he did his best to stay away under the guise of it being better for her.

Faustus skipped their parents' funeral, Edward’s wedding, Edward’s funeral, any non-church event held in the Spellman home — couldn't stomach seeing her again, the pain in her eyes. He knew it was cowardly, that he couldn’t manage to be there for the only person he had ever loved despite all of her pain and suffering. He couldn’t stand seeing that look in her eyes — so much pain and hurt and devastation — not when he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

Truthfully, he wouldn’t have even considered going over if it weren’t for Hilda and her lilting voice, a hint of an accent he hadn’t recalled her having years ago when they last spoke.

But Zelda was alone with the girl — Sabrina — while Hilda was overseas with Ambrose for his trial.

His hand raised to the door, fingers barely brushing the cold metal knocker before the door was flung open, a curious little girl looking up at him. She was almost exactly half Edward and half Diana — face pinched like her mother’s, a fire in her eyes that rivaled her father’s. He found himself smiling warmly at the girl despite all of his hard edges and cool exterior, straightened his tie and felt suddenly small under her scrutinizing gaze.

“Are you the pizza man?” The little girl’s eyebrows were knit together in confusion, her lithe frame still shoved between the wall and the half opened door. “Where’s the pizza?”

“I’m… a friend.”

Why was this so awkward? She was a child, a half mortal child at that. He had sized up demons ten times his age, consorted with the council without the first shake of his hand, but this child had him in a cold sweat.

“Can I come inside?”

“No! What?” She scrunched her nose, hand scrubbing over her face in a way that was so Zelda-like it shocked him. “I don’t know you, you’re not my friend. Why should I let you in?”

Was he really going to argue with a child?

“I’m friends with Zelda.”

There was a long pause before the girl let out a peal of laughter. She pulled the door a little closer to her, obscuring his view from the inside of the house. Shame, as he was just able to squint down the long hallway.

“That’s how I know you’re a big fat liar. My Auntie Zee doesn’t have friends.”

The sound of heels clicking down the hallway distracted him from whatever witty retort he was going to throw back at the little girl. And her voice. Satan, it was like velvet to him — made his heart ache at how mature and weary she sounded compared to years past. He was almost surprised at how she had managed to completely ignore him for years — to filter in and duck out of Black Mass before he got a chance to speak to her — but Zelda was nothing if not as stubborn as a mule.

“Is that the pizza man? Damn it all to heaven, I’ve only got big bills…” Sabrina stepped back as Zelda flung the door open, wearing a look of exasperation that morphed to slack jawed shock. “Father Blackwood?”

She was as gorgeous as ever — possibly even more gorgeous now that he was looking at her closer and not fifty feet away, hiding in the back of the desecrated church. Faustus felt his heart race at the way she looked so effortlessly gorgeous — in a simple, loose black dress, a stark contrast to her severe wardrobe he usually saw her donning — one hand on the door and leaning against the doorframe.

“What are you doing here?”

“You missed Black Mass, Sister Zelda.”

It was a lie and they both knew it, but he couldn’t think fast with her looking down at him with that scowl that made his mouth go dry. It was the same scowl she wore as a younger witch, always looking down her nose at him in a poor attempt to hide what was glaringly obvious infatuation.

“I haven’t missed a service since…” She paused to think, pushed a stray piece of hair back into the bun that sat atop her head. “Since before you married Constance.”

It was bitter and more spiteful than she had any right being, but there was a self satisfied hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips and a gleam in her eyes despite her uncouthness. She had been itching to say it since he broke the news of his proposal, and it felt so good that she would have kept hurling insults at him if it weren’t for the fact that he was the High Priest.

“Hilda sent you. I’m not a ninny, nor was I born yesterday.”

There was an awkward silence that fell over them, and Zelda wore an expression of smug righteousness. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to slap her or kiss her — tried in vain to keep his lips from twitching up in a bemused half smile and knew he was failing miserably.

“Who is that guy?”

“Sabrina.”

Zelda’s tone was admonishing and she wore a pinched scowl to match. It was almost comical to watch — Sabrina had grown into a near mirror image of Zelda herself, he knew that from his quiet observation of the little girl at church events, just as inquisitive as Zelda had been.

“I told you, I’m a friend.”

“And I told you that Auntie Zee doesn’t have friends.”

Faustus let out a loud, bellowing laugh at that, watched the way Zelda’s face contorted into a grimace to hide her embarrassment. She was exactly the same as she had been the last time they spoke, and yet nothing like her old self.

“Then I’m an old friend.”

“You surely are old. Like, what? Five hundred?”

“Sabrina.”

“What? He said he was old.” She paused, her face pouting in concentration in a way that was undoubtedly learned from her aunt. “Aren’t you going to invite him in? It’s proper.”

It was eerily silent as Zelda stood motionless at the door, her lips pursed into a thin line as she was clearly thinking about turning him away. He almost let her, if it wasn’t for the niggling curiosity at the back of his mind. How was she, really? Was she dating again? Was it anyone he knew?

After what felt like an eternity, she finally stepped away from the doorframe and silently opened the door a bit wider. For someone as big on manners and decorum as she was, Zelda surely didn’t act as such, and the thought made Faustus smirk to himself.

Same old Zelda but new somehow.

Sabrina tugged at the waist of her aunt’s dress and Faustus was shocked at how naturally maternal it was to watch her lift the little girl onto her hip — like she was born to be a mother. It made him wonder why — why she never wanted domesticity with him, why she never had kids, why the world was so unjust and cruel to someone as good as her.

“You can sit in Hilda’s chair.”

“No.” Sabrina’s voice was strong and unwavering, just as Zelda’s had been as a child. “Only Auntie Hilda sits in her chair. Your old friend can sit on that spot.”

She pointed towards the stiff side of the couch across the room, her little eyes narrowed in a near-perfect scowl — would have been perfect if she wasn’t smiling, but Faustus appreciated her feistiness nonetheless. Sabrina would certainly grow into a force to be reckoned with, like all of the Spellman siblings had been in their own way, and Faustus let himself smile at the way Zelda’s eyes nearly beamed with pride at her niece’s assertiveness.

“The house hasn’t changed at all.”

It was a poor attempt at small talk — something he had never been particularly good at —but it was the truth. The same bag of knitting sat on the table by Hilda’s chair, and Zelda’s end table was just as chaotically messy as it had been decades ago, a perfect reflection of her personality. It was a cluttered disaster of spilled ashes, loose napkins with her frenzied notes scrawled across them, precariously stacked books, and empty glasses nested in each other — so completely her that it was almost adorable.

“It’s changed a fair bit since… the incident. You’d know if you kept in touch.”

Zelda sat gingerly in her chair, eyes following Sabrina as she puttered around the room. She was steely and quiet, a challenging gleam to her eyes despite not knowing exactly what she wanted to know. Was she upset that he married Constance? Or was she more upset that he cared so little that when her brother passed — her Eddie, her protector, her everything — he didn’t even care enough to show up at the funeral and see if she was okay?

The question had nagged at her for years, swirling in the back of her mind when she got drunk and nostalgic — a rare occurrence now that she and Hilda had a child to care for — only let herself pull out the old photographs then, and tucked them away safely before her sober self could find them and cry.

“Auntie?”

“Yes, Sabrina?”

“Do you want Tommy?”

There was a hesitation in her eyes at the mention of her familiar, lips back to that tight pursed look that meant the walls were back up again. Faustus idly wondered if he would ever be able to tear them down again, to see her relaxed and smiling and happy.

“You could bring him in here, yes.”

“He’s still alive?”

Faustus’ familiar, though only slightly older, had passed decades ago. He wasn’t sure if he was more impressed with the goblin-turned-dog’s age, or the fact that he was so heaven bent on protecting Zelda that he had stayed around for this many years. Anubis, after several years of Faustus being decidedly less reckless than he had been in his youth, had finally decided it was time for him to pass on. He knew Zelda was reckless, but was that old beagle the only thing protecting her?

“He’s… he’s been around.”

Classic Zelda, he thought, talking herself in circles until he felt like the dumbest person in the room. She had always been good at evading questions like that, a master of building walls so high no one could see over them. It was something she had to have learned from her parents, he had decided over the years, because Edward had been the same way.

“How old is he now? Satan, he’s nearly the same age as Anubis and he passed when? Thirty years ago?”

“He’s old.”

“Just old?”

“Very old. Is that better, Father Blackwood?” Her nostrils flared in annoyance, hand scrubbing over her face in the same anxious habit she had held in her youth. “Why do you care so much about my familiar?”

He couldn’t answer that question, only leaned back and raised his eyebrow.

“He’s heavy. What are you feeding him? Bricks? Stones?”

Zelda let out a puff of laughter when Sabrina came back into the room, pulling the dog from her niece’s grasp and settling him safely at her side. She stroked at his head, fingers moving deftly as though it was unconscious, the grimace slipping from her face and giving way to a relaxed, easy smile.

“Bacon. And stuffing.”

They both laughed as though they were conspiring about something, Sabrina’s eyes pointedly on Faustus in a way that made him feel smaller than he actually was. If the girl were to end up at the academy, he would surely be in trouble, the spitting image of Zelda Spellman reincarnated into a tiny blonde body.

Faustus finally allowed himself to tear his gaze from Zelda’s face to look at the dog, felt his heart nearly stop when he realized that Satan, she had surely gone bloody batshit. It wasn’t a dog, the mere ghost of one — and poorly stuffed, at that.

The dog had never been particularly cute in his prime, always awkward and clambering around with too big paws and too long ears, but there was something about him that had never failed to make Zelda smile that big, unrestrained grin Faustus loved so much. But this poor reincarnation of Vinegar Tom? The poor thing was downright disgusting.

His face was stretched too tight, body lumpy in some areas and sagging in others, and his ears were nearly bare of fur. Surely Zelda had to know that this wasn’t Vinegar Tom — more likely a poorly done art project by Sabrina, if he had to guess — and yet she was worrying his ear between her fingers and cooing as though he was still a pup.

“Zelda… is he alive?”

“Well he’s not dead, Faustus.” She was indignant, eyebrows knit together as she looked down at her familiar. “He thinks you’re dead. What a rude guest, isn’t he, Tommy Boy?”

Faustus wasn’t sure if he was horrified or amused— decided to go with a mixture of both, tried his best to stop the smirk from spreading across his lips lest she smack him right where he sat. There she was, Zelda fucking Spellman of all people, cooing at a dead, stuffed dog as though he was alive and kicking.

“He hasn’t moved since Sabrina brought him in here.”

“Tom doesn’t like men, least of all you.”

“I don’t think he has the ability to like anything because he’s dead.”

There was a tense silence, Zelda’s fingers picking at the dog’s ear with a fervor now. Sabrina, just as well behaved as she had always been during church services, had chosen that moment to leave the room and Faustus wasn’t sure if he was thankful or annoyed.

“Take it back.”

“What?”

“Take it back.”

She was fucking insane. Absolutely bloody bonkers in a way he would have never expected — would have never realized if he had turned away at the door and wished her a good day — much less from her.

“I said take it back.”

“He’s dead, Zelda. That isn’t a live dog… he’s not even stuffed well. What is wrong with you?”

Satan, he wanted to shake her and yell and scream and find the smart, sane Zelda that he once knew. Maybe this is why Hilda had sent him over, to try and talk some sense into her.

“He’s not dead. Tom isn’t dead. He’s my soulmate and he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t leave me.”

Her eyes were glistening with tears she was too stubborn to let fall, her upper lip quivering and damn it, no matter how insane she looked clinging to that dead dog, Faustus wanted nothing more than to hold her and wipe her tears away.

“He wouldn’t leave me like.. like everyone else. Like my parents and Eddie and Hilda—“

“Hilda hasn’t left you, she’s overseas with Ambrose.”

“Hilda and you. And I’m sure Sabrina will leave me too, and Ambrose would if he was allowed to leave this Satan forsaken house, he’s told me that.”

Zelda lifted a delicate finger to the corners of her eyes, dabbed her tears away and let out a very un-Zelda-like sniffle before setting her expression back to the look of annoyance she was so used to wearing.

“So no, Vinegar Tom isn’t dead and he hasn’t left me. Not yet. Just let me have it, Faustus. What do you care if I carry him around?”

He wouldn’t have cared, shouldn’t have asked so many damned questions, but now his heart was achy with guilt and sadness and pity. Pity for that steely, bitchy Zelda he knew centuries ago, and pity for this Zelda sitting in front of him, sniveling pathetically while stroking a dead dog.

Faustus was suddenly glad he hadn’t asked who hurt her, wouldn’t have been able to handle that the answer was him.

“Do you bring him to Black Mass?”

“Only sometimes.”

“And what do you declare a worthy occasion for Tom himself to grace my church with his presence?”

Zelda’s smile reached her eyes when Faustus finally gave in and played along. It was nice to live in the bubble of fantasy — to pretend that for once, someone loved her enough to stay.

"Anniversaries.”

“Of?”

“Deaths, mostly. And the one service a year in which you glorify your marriage to the entire coven like it won’t shatter me all over again.”

It was bitter and cold and so angry that if he was sitting closer, she would have surely spat on him. Zelda had easily broken his heart a dozen times in one short conversation, and yet she looked so fucking smug that it almost angered him.

They both jumped when the heavy wooden door slammed shut, a clatter coming from the front hall before Sabrina raced into the room. A welcome distraction from the serious turn to their conversation, and Zelda looked almost relieved, albeit a touch embarrassed at Sabrina’s clumsy galloping.

“Pizza! Auntie, the pizza’s here!”

Zelda just barely saved the boxes from falling to the floor and ruining their meal, a bemused gleam hiding in her eyes behind a stern tone when she told Sabrina she wouldn’t get a single piece of pizza if she didn’t go wash up first.

“Is your old friend going to stay?”

“He’s just a friend, Sabrina.”

“I should be leaving now, really.” He was shocked when thin fingers clasped around his wrist and pushed him back down into the couch. “Unless you want me to stay?”

She paused for a moment, eyebrows knit together in thought as she fanned herself with a paper plate. It was a look he knew well, the little smirk playing on her lips when she was thinking up a particularly witty retort.

“I don’t care if you stay or if you go, but it’s rather rude to not stay for dinner and make sure I’m okay after you made me cry. Twice.”

Faustus nearly scoffed at her haughty tone and the way her eyes twinkled with mischievous glee. He pretended to focus on the way her hands moved as she served the pizza, the way her hands were decidedly more veiny and frail than he had remembered them being.

“I seem to recall only seeing tears once.”

“The first set gave way to the second.” He pretended not to notice when she delicately placed a piece of pizza crust in front of Vinegar Tom’s nose. “You’re certainly lucky that no tears fell, I would be guilting you from now until the day you die.”

“That would be a rather long time, wouldn’t it?”

“Not if you insult my dog again.”

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 15: Same Old Story

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

Summary: Some history for Y/N and some brotherly love from Cole.

A/N: when you so busy writing smut that you forget to update the story so you can get to the smut lmao. enjoy, fellow nerds.

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

You were uncomfortable talking about personal things, particularly your history, but Cole deserved answers and he was a patient listener. Being a father, you weren’t really surprised by that. “When I was a kid, like… nine I want to say? Honestly my childhood is pretty blurry. Feels like another life.” You cleared your throat. “Anyway, yeah, around then I fell ill. I had these… fits, for lack of a better word. I didn’t understand what they meant at the time because I was well, nine. No one else understood them either. As an adult I know that I was experiencing prophetic visions. Honestly, they weren’t really prophetic then, I guess. That’s a word Raiden uses a lot for them. Back then they were rarely of future events. It was more like gaining deep insight into the lives of others. I could touch someone or something that someone else had touched and I would disappear. I’d see a glimpse of their history or their present. I was too young to interpret it.”

“Like touch telepathy? I’ve seen television shows about that concept. This stuff is hard for me to wrap my mind around. Too much like fiction.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing to call it. When I saw things, I would also black out. And have a fit. Like a seizure, I suppose. And when that was happening, I would often say things about what I was seeing or hurt myself. It frightened people. My parents took me out of town and I stayed with my grandmother. I was homeschooled after that. My parents saw it as an embarrassment if I recall.” You laughed at the idea of that now. That life was so far behind you that it didn’t matter how stressful it had been. Back then it had felt like the end of the world but as an adult, it was a distant memory. Those experiences had made you different and strange but they had also made you unique and special. You had embraced the things that had separated you from normality since then.

“Well, that’s awful.”

“Oh, no, no pity. It’s fine, really. That was world’s ago.” You waved off his disapproval of a parent being embarrassed by their child for things they couldn’t control. Cole really was a good guy. “I stopped having the visions at around twelve and while I was weak from being so sick, I fought to be normal afterward. My dad ran a dojo and so I grew strong again. I focused on martial arts. It was something that helped me find strength and determination back then.” You smiled at the memory. You’d always had a fondness for it in your heart. That was one of the first things you and Kung Lao had bonded over. Your father had taught Wing Chun and that was what Kung Lao specialized in. “With time my father could no longer teach at the dojo so he moved in with my older sister. I took over the dojo and then opened a shop in the old storage space to make extra money. I had every intention of moving away. I would never be more than a weirdo or a witch there. It was too small a town.”

“Did you ever get to?”

“I mean, I’m here now. That’s a long story though. I’m trying to keep this brief.” You chuckled. “We can talk about that stuff another day.” That was a more casual and personal conversation. This was personal but definitely not casual. If you didn’t have to share these parts of your life then you never would have. Much of it was still too raw. But Cole Young was curious about your past and you were curious about his. It was nice having another friend who wasn’t Liu Kang. You really did get along with him and his family.

“Fair enough.”

“About five years ago I was still doing the same. There had been a robbery across the street and the thugs came into my shop afterward. And, well, I’m not the type to roll over and be robbed.”

“I’d say not.”

“It escalated. There was a man who came in to pick up herbs I had imported for him every month who came in after. He ended up helping me out. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, I killed one of those would-be robbers. He’d been trying to kill me so… I have come to terms with that. That’s how I got the dragon mark.” You pointed to your back. Yours was on your lower back on your left side. “The man who helped me was Liu Kang. I knew him then and he was kind enough to help me deal with the fallout at the time. It took ages for him to convince me to that there was any truth to any of this… Mortal Kombat and arcana nonsense. It’s kind of embarrassing looking back at it.” And the story was far more complicated too. You’d been attracted to Liu Kang from very early on. “I guess that’s why I’m so patient with Johnny. It’s easy for us to know what’s the truth but when you spend your whole life believing that fairytales are made with computers and science? It’s difficult to believe anything else.”

“Yeah, I get that. Not everyone had Sub Zero rushing them into the truth.” He joked. That was true enough. But Johnny Cage had had his come-to-jesus moment that afternoon you were pretty sure. You hadn’t had a moment like that in the beginning. Just Liu Kang’s word and his arcana.

“Liu showed me his arcana but I thought it was a trick. He was very persistent at the time. Tried to talk me into leaving everything I had ever known for what I thought was a trick. I was scared, I’m not too proud to admit that. The part of me that wanted to leave home and never look back had grown smaller over the years. I’d become complacent. I’d grown comfortable being known as a witch and honestly, the next generation of people in town hadn’t treated me so terribly. The kids even thought it was funny that everyone thought I was a witch. But then… I found my arcana.”

“The ink?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty and under control now but in the beginning, it was a nightmare. The first time I used it had been on accident. I nearly destroyed my store. Then I fell and had a fit and I was suddenly seeing things again. Those things I saw didn’t make any sense. None of it. I saw flashes of people and places I didn’t recognize. The best way that I can describe it is… nonsense. It didn’t mean anything.” You sighed heavily. Those moments had been terrifying. “The second time had been even worse. If Liu hadn’t been basically stalking me then someone would have gotten seriously hurt. I’d hurt him but he’d been tough enough to handle it. I felt terrible about it. By then I’d more than grown fond of him.” You didn’t want to get into the details but it hadn’t exactly been difficult to fall into Liu Kang’s arms and it hadn’t taken very long either.

“There’s a lot of history there, huh?”

“Yes. Focus.” You wanted to get this story over as quickly as you could. “After that I decided to go with him. It wasn’t worth the risk of hurting people in town with something I didn’t understand. I didn’t want to leave but I was glad that I did afterward. Raiden’s Temple was where I had needed to be for what came next. It was awful at first. The ink and the visions made me sick. I had little to no control over any of it. Raiden helped me. He could unravel what I saw even if it was just spaghetti to me. My visions helped him. At least he said that they did. Liu helped me get control over my arcana. There I met Kung Lao and I was happy. About a year later the visions stopped altogether and I was stronger than I’d ever been.”

“And now you’re having them again? Out of nowhere?” Cole didn’t sound terribly concerned. He had handled all of this very well. It was nice not to be taken too seriously or looked at like you were about to fracture. You didn’t think the visions were out of nowhere. In fact, you thought that the visions were likely triggered by Kung Lao’s death. Trauma did funny things to people. The things that happened to you were a little funnier than most.

“I confess that I didn’t realize I was having them at first.” You shrugged. It was difficult to explain but it seemed as though, at some point, Cole had abandoned his disbelief and had embraced chaos. “They were more like nightmares. It was difficult to decipher what was guilt and grief and what wasn’t. It wasn’t until the other night on the roof that I even considered they were visions. Well, that and I feel terrible. I haven’t felt this terrible since the last time I had them.” You were a little embarrassed to admit that. If you’d been honest about what you were feeling from the beginning then maybe you could have done things differently. You just hated being weak. It was a hot button for you.

“And that was when you saw what happened this afternoon?”

“Kind of? I saw the beach and a wave of corpses coming for us. Does that count?” You tried to joke. Cole tilted his head as if to consider if it counted or not.

“It does at least explain why you were extra creepy this morning.”

“Implying that I’m always a little creepy.”

“The ink is a little creepy, I decided.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

“But you’re okay? This morning was wild.”

Did you not seem okay? You supposed that you were feeling out of it after seeing Kung Lao’s death. You definitely weren’t feeling yourself but you thought that you’d hidden it pretty well. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sound a little morose.” Cole looked to the door like he had somewhere else to be. He probably did. He had a family and all that. “I can’t say we know each other very well but whatever happened back there must have hit hard… and I mean… you were so different at the end of it.”

“I’m fine, Cole.” You reassured him with a forced smile. You were a little morose. That was a good word for what you were feeling. You wanted to sleep for the rest of the week until you had to go back to China.

“Ally, Emily, and I are going to go grab dinner. You’re welcome to join us. You could probably use some food.”

“No, no. Thank you but I think that I have encroached upon your family time enough this week.”

“We really don’t mind. You’re good company. Allison asked if you were joining us, even.”

“Really, Cole. I appreciate the offer but I’m not up to it. My social battery is completely drained.” You offered a weary smile. It was nice to be wanted. “I’m going to rest.”

“You’re just… so off. I feel bad leaving you alone.” Cole pulled his phone from his coat pocket. “I’m considering asking if Ally wants to grab food and then bring Emily here to watch a movie with you.”

“It’s okay, Cole. I need the time alone, I think. Besides, I’m allowed to be a little under the weather after that.” You smiled even so. You didn’t want him to pity you. You didn’t need that. You really would be okay. That morning had been difficult but you weren’t prepared to say the real reasons why. You were a mixture of angry and hurt but you’d trudge through it.

“Yeah…”

“Hey, look, you don’t need to feel responsible for me just because of what happened with Kung Lao.” You would happily absolve him of any guilt he felt in that regards. He was guilty of nothing but being a good man.

“What?” Cole was genuinely surprised and you internally winced at how you’d miscalculated. You’d read the whole situation wrong and instantly regretted your words.

“I thought you might be feeling some misplaced guilt about it. I don’t want that for you.”

“Oh. Maybe that was why I approached you on the street that day but I think we’re past that. We’re friends now. Am I wrong about that?”

“Not at all. It’s been lovely getting to know you and your family. I really mean that, I’m not just saying it. You’ve managed to get me a little out of my head which is nice. And you like my jokes which I appreciate. I’m sorry about the way that came off. I wasn’t trying to diminish our friendship. I just didn’t want you to carry around that guilt, either.”

“That goes for you too.”

“It’s been a hard day. I’m not coming across the way that I mean to. Let’s say lost in translation.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. Your English is pretty good so I’m not sure that excuse works, but I’ll let it slide.”

“I know, I know… I’m being cold without meaning to. Like you said, I’m a little morose right now. I do this thing when my feelings are difficult to process where I kind of shut off and… I can come off as cruel without meaning to. Honestly, even in Chinese it doesn’t sound much better.” You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“No need. Today was a reality check. It scared me too. And you’re clearly going through something. I wanted to help, is all. Sometimes when I get too far into my head things snowball and become an avalanche.”

“I appreciate that.” You kicked your shoes off next to the bed and laughed. You had no plans of going anywhere else for the rest of the day. “I used to have Kung Lao to keep that from happening. I appreciate you trying to help but you can go get food with your family and enjoy your afternoon. I’m exhausted. I’ll probably nap or meditate on what happened today.” What you really meant was that you would do whatever it took to get it out of your head. You were going to try and forget the awful things you’d seen today. You weren’t sure you could forget it. His death was burned into your mind’s eye. It would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“I will but before I go, I wanted to talk to you quickly about Liu.”

“I would very much prefer if you didn’t.” You scrunched up your face in distaste.

“I know that I’ve been teasing you about it.” He laughed and you rolled your eyes. “But is everything okay with that? I know, I know… it’s not my business, you’ve said it a dozen times now. It’s clearly complicated. You don’t owe me any details but if you need help with it then say the word. I’m happy to help.” Was Cole Young offering to be your wingman? Or was he offering to beat up Liu Kang? Either scenario was kind of hilarious.

“I’m obviously defensive about it. I’m sure that it’s hilarious from the outside looking in but Liu and I have more history than I care to explain. I’m not ready to get into it with anyone. Not you and definitely not with Liu, either.”

“But that’s okay?”

“Yeah, it will be. I’m a pretty tough lady.”

“On a scale of one to ten just how supportive do you need me to be?”

“No scale. Just be yourself, Cole. You’re doing fine.”

“Even teasing you?”

“I’ve had worse teasing, trust me. I dated Kung Lao for years. Besides, it kind of lessens the frustration of it. Sometimes I get too serious and scary in my head. The joking grounds me a little.”

“Good to know.” Cole patted you on the back. It was nice having a friend to talk to. A friend that wasn’t Liu Kang. Not that you didn’t enjoy Liu Kang, things were just too complex between you right now. There was so much hurt and grief that you weren’t sure how things would pan out or if they would ever be fixable. And Cole was a good man. You enjoyed talking to Allison too and Emily had taken a shine to you. You hadn’t had the opportunity to be around kids in years and you were good with them at most ages. That was part of why you’d enjoyed running the dojo.

There was a knock at your door. You made to get up to answer it.

“I’ll get it. I’m on my way out anyway.” Cole stood and so you sat back down. You wouldn’t argue with him. Cole opened the door and there was Liu Kang, which was no surprise to you. You’d been expecting him to show up at some point. Who else would it have been, anyway? You were pretty sure that you’d rubbed Sonya and Jax the wrong way with all your talk of kidnapping. Cole stared Liu Kang down instead of greeting him and you tried not to laugh.

“Hello Cole.” Liu bowed his head politely in greeting. “I was hoping that I could speak with Y/N for a few minutes. Is she here? Did I come to the wrong room?” Liu peered around him and made eye contact with you. You offered him a curt wave.

“That’s up to her.”

You tried very hard not to laugh at the look of confusion on Liu’s face. He was bewildered.

“Of course it is.”

“You can come in, Liu.” You stopped that conversation before it got any weirder. Cole meant well, but wow.

“I was just leaving.” Cole clasped Liu on the shoulder as if to wish him good luck and then left, closing the door behind him after Liu had stepped past him. Liu watched the door close and then turned back to you. His expression was priceless. You’d have to thank Cole for that later.

Next Chapter >>

[smutsonian]

your king ii

Pairing: King!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: No matter how much the king says you’re safe with him, you’ll never believe him. You won’t believe someone like him.

Warning/s: little angst, violence, asshole steve, some weird shit you’ll probably question, mentions of noncon, fires, not proofread so sorry for the headaches to come

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: so i made this thing a series? hopefully i come thru and complete this one kskskksks

chapter i

He kept his promise and gave you a hot bath. Although, he didn’t stay for long. He watched you as you got into the steaming water and you saw how his jaw clenched as well as his fists before leaving you all on your own. 

You scrubbed every inch as hard as you could. The pain between your thighs was forgotten once your skin burned at the way you scrubbed your skin. You would’ve never stopped if it weren’t for the man who caught your attention.

“Are you planning on scrubbing your skin until you’re nothing but pieces of bones?” He snickered at you when you glared at him. He showed the huge robe on his hands to you before giving you a genuine smile. Something you didn't know you would get from any of the evil king’s men. 

“I ain’t here to hurt you, my lady. I just thought you would want something to dry yourself up with and keep you warm.” He tilted his head at you as you continued to glare at the unknown man. He shook his head as he grinned at you. “Or maybe you don’t want it? No worries. I can just go back and leave you be…” He turned around and started walking away.

“Wait!” You quickly went out of the tub before running towards the man, forgetting about your nudity and eyes widening when the man turned around with a smirk before it fell when he saw that you were in front of him.

“Hells!” He quickly raised the robe towards you to block your body away from his sight as he closed his eyes as well. You were shocked at how this man was acting compared to the king and his other men. You quickly snatched the robe from him and wrapped it around yourself before coughing awkwardly.

He opened one eye before looking at you and breathing out a sigh of relief. “You’re one of the king’s men, are you not?” You asked him, trying to sound fearless but knowing that it was no use. You could never fight anyone even if you wanted to.

He nodded before cracking up another smile. “Yes. Do I not look like one? Do I look like a king myself?” He wiggles his eyebrows and you couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. You stopped laughing when you saw him looking at you with bright eyes. “No… You just act differently… More kind.” You mumbled while you looked at your toes on the ground.

“Well, I am flattered. My name is Sam, by the way.” He smiled at you when you looked back up at him. “I’m Y/N,” you whispered. “I know. Now, let’s go find you some more clothing.” He motioned for you to follow him and you did, instantly trusting the man named Sam. 

Instead of the usual corsets, silk dresses, and thick fur, you were given a plain cotton top and a pair of breeches that were a little too loose for you.  You were also given a pair of old dusty boots. They could’ve given you your own clothes but they didn’t. Sam said that he was ordered to give you those clothes. You were sure that the king wanted you to know that you’re below him and he’s way above you. 

You stared out the window, glaring at the flag with the symbol of a shield with a star in the middle that was attached to one of the wagons. He killed everyone you knew. He killed your parents in front of you before he took you out to the snow and forced himself on you like you were nothing but a body to pleasure him. He made empty promises, assured you that you were safe with him but you felt nothing but fear and hatred. He’s a cruel man. Heartless. He killed your family and he’ll do the same to you. He’ll get tired of you eventually and you’ll meet the same faith as your family and friends.

Hatred. You’re filled with it. You tried to remember your mother’s words about hatred. Hate will bring nothing but war. It will bring nothing but pain. She always told you that you should never let your hatred grow because it will turn into something dangerous. She always reminded you that hatred will only bring bad fortune to everyone around you and yourself. You tried to remember her words. You tried to listen to it but you were blinded by hatred. You hate the man who killed your parents. The man who killed your people. The man who smiles at how he makes people suffer.

Your inner battle with yourself was cut short when the flag you’ve been glaring at ignited before it turned into crisps and ashes. The horse that was tied to the front of the wagon jumped and let out a fearful neigh. You gasped in shock before stepping away from the window. “What was that?” You whispered to yourself before jumping in the air when a knock came from the door. 

Sam’s head poked out at the gap between the door before smiling at you. “It doesn’t look too bad on you. In my opinion, I think it suits you.” He walks over to you before taking hold of your chin and tilting your head from left to right. “Your face is more prominent with your hair up. I can see why they named you the beauteous princess.”

“Beauteous? Who said that?” You look at him with a questioning look but he only grinned at you before shaking his head and telling you to follow him out the small chamber bedroom.

King Steve entered the late king’s chamber with a frown as James did his best to keep up with the king. Steve sat down on the mattress that was covered with expensive furs. 

“What have you done?” James’ voice was filled with worry when he asked. “Did you hurt the woman?” He continued. “Did you burn—” He was cut off by the loud and booming voice of the king. “Nothing happened! That bitch is perfectly fine. Unharmed. Why do you care so much, James? She deserves to die for everything she’s done!” Steve stands up from the bed before walking towards his best mate. 

“She needs to die for what she’s done—” Steve repeats but James cuts him off.

“She hasn't done anything!” James exclaims. 

“Yet!” Steve bellows. “The gods do not lie, James. We need not to wait until the visions come true.” Steve’s voice becomes softer yet still broken.

“And the gods told you everything you know? Did they talk to you directly? You must not believe everything that the witch tells you. You can’t trust her!” James’ face scrunches in frustration as Steve shakes his head in disagreement.

“Wanda is known for her clever words. The witch is known for her counsel to work. She said that the dreams that I’ve been having are real. It means that it will happen, James.” Steve explains with passion.

“But she also said something about your dreams not being complete. You can’t just kill the princess because of some nightmare you keep having.” James points out. “But, hell! You killed her family! And for what?! For a series of dreams that keep you up at night?” James lets out a dry laugh which Steve didn’t find hilarious at all.

“I am still your king, James. You should treat me as such and show me respect if you don’t want to be among those who are lying dead in their own blood.” Steve gives James a pointed look before chuckling to himself.

“And we both know that those people are not her true family.” He snarks before walking over to the door. “Now, move along unless you want to burn with everything and everyone in this pitiful town. We’ll start burning everything down.” He gives him another dark look before leaving the chamber.

Sam brought you to the same wagon you were watching from the window earlier. You were laid down on the wood while Sam was riding the horse. You stared at the empty thin pole that used to have the flag. You looked away from the pole and turned towards Sam. “Where is he?” You asked. He looked at you with a questioning look and you scoffed quietly before adding. “The man who murdered my people. Where is your king?” You say through gritted teeth.

Sam sighed before stopping the wagon and turning his full attention on you. “He told me to bring you to the castle. He’ll be with you tomorrow morning.” You don’t say anything so he says something else.

“He’s not the monster you think he is, you know…” Sam mumbles and you look at him with wide eyes, surprised with what he just said. 

“He just killed every single one of my family in front of me before taking me on the cold snow like a horny rabbit. If that’s not a work of a monster to you then I don’t know what is!” You hissed at him, controlling your anger by laying on your back again and closing your eyes. 

“He did what to you…?” Was the last thing you heard from Sam before the wagon started moving again, rocking you into a deep slumber.

The screams of a woman woke you up and the view that you found when you opened your eyes was new to you yet feels so familiar. Like you’ve been here before. 

It was a small wooden cabin. 

The screams of the woman continued as the cabin started to catch on fire. The screams of the woman were soon joined with cries of a baby. Your eyes widened and you tried to move to give help but you were frozen in place. It’s like you have no control over your body. 

The cries of the baby got louder while the woman’s screams started to falter and you felt your heart break as the feeling of sadness washes over you. 

You do your best to move, trying to wiggle your fingers on your toes and your hands. Forcing whatever it is that’s making you stuck away from your body. Your muscles started to come back to life and you’re able to move your hands and soon, all of your muscles. 

You stumbled and ran as fast as you can towards the burning cabin. The door opens and you see two figures, one was holding something in their arms. You ran faster towards the blazing fire as the two figures started to disappear. 

When you finally reached the cabin, you reached for the door, not feeling the hotness of the knob as you pushed the door open.

Flames and smoke blared out of the door, enveloping your form and swallowing you whole. The feeling of burn and pain that you should be feeling was absent but when you found two purple orbs staring back at you through the fire, a wave of pain clutches your heart and suddenly, you can no longer breathe.

Your eyes flew open and you started to cough for air. You covered your mouth with the sleeves of your cotton top and coughed into it until your breathing was back to normal. 

“You okay back there?” Sam’s voice catches you and you turn towards him who was looking back at you with a worried look. 

You nod your head once before looking back at the sleeves of your shirt. The edges were black and torn as if it was burned with fire. You took a deep breath before tearing the burnt part of your sleeves up and throwing out of the wagon.

 What was that just now?

What just happened?

[maverick-werewolf]

Vampire Fact #7 - Becoming a vampire

Remember the handy post on ways to become a werewolf in folklore vs pop culture? Here’s one of those but for vampires!

Please note, as usual, that this is not going to cover the full range of possibilities, but it will cover the most common/most popular ones. This applies to both folklore and pop culture. And of course, again, I’ll save a full list for when I write my book on vampires, you know?

Please bear in mind that a lot of these come from Romania and other regions of Eastern Europe, which are rich with vampire folklore that is some of the best-preserved that scholars currently have for study. It is essentially the baseline of what we consider “vampires” today.

Something to think about before we enter into this list, of course, is that I want to re-emphasize - and I will do this several times in this post - that vampirism was not a “disease” like it sometimes is considered today. Although vampires were often associated with disease in folklore, vampirism itself is not a disease. It is either a demonic being that is a vampire, or else it is a curse. Vampires have this in common with werewolves of pop culture today that being a vampire is some kind of infectious disease they can pass on to others (here is how lycanthropy isn’t a disease at all in folklore, ever), but that isn’t really a thing in folklore.

Appeared in folklore

Being a demon - A lot of vampires in folklore were not humans at all. They were demons taking the shape of humans (sometimes; they didn’t always maintain that shape, sometimes appearing as mist). It’s important to mention this one because I cannot emphasize enough that vampirism in folklore is generally a demon, demonic possession, or a curse, not a disease like it so often is today.

Demonic possession - Plenty of times, a vampire in folklore is the result of a demon possessing a corpse, and again, they aren’t really humans at all, per se.

Being born cursed, becoming vampire after death - There are all sorts of reasons for this (see the last entry in this “appeared in folklore” list, though even that doesn’t cover all of them). One could be born with the curse of vampirism - but that would only manifest after the person died.

Being cursed - Sometimes somebody just straight-up doesn’t like someone else and then they curse them. After that person dies, they’ll return as a vampire because of the curse. This often didn’t require some complex ritual, because in the olden days, even saying “damn you” was literally considered a curse - this is why it’s called a “curse word.” If you say that to someone, you are literally cursing that person, wishing them to be damned.

Violent life/violent death - Someone who lived a violent life - if they were a killer, if they mutilated others, whatever - and then also died a violent death, such as if they were murdered, would rise again as a vampire.

Incest/born out of wedlock - What it says on the tin. The child would be cursed and then become a vampire after death.

Incorrect burial rites - Gotta get those burial rites correct. Mess them up, and the person will rise again as a vampire. You don’t just stick a person in the ground. Extra measures might be taken to prevent the person becoming a vampire, too, like burying the corpse face-down or sticking needles or a stake in it, as mentioned in this post on weaknesses.

Ignoring traditions - You may have heard of strigoi or the similar word striga from a certain popular fantasy game - or maybe you never played the first one; you should - but it isn’t what you think. A strigoi is a spirit, and if one does not properly undertake the right funerary feasts in the right time period after a person’s death, then that person might rise again as a strigoi - in other words, a vampire of sorts. This basically falls into the same category as incorrect burial rites, but it’s slightly different because these traditions may need to be held more than once, such as once a year, in order to keep the spirit pleased.

Animals jumping over corpses/graves - Cats, dogs, horses, you name it. Animals jumping over graves was not a good thing, especially for the recently interred or those in the process of being buried. They’d probably return from the dead as a vampire.

Suicide - There are some stories in which committing suicide can result in a vampire, such as one tale of a man who hangs himself, becomes a vampire, and then still pursues his girlfriend, who spurns his advances because he’s an evil spirit now. He does not, however, want to drink her blood, because not all vampires actually wanted/needed to do that (more on that later).

Many strange and specific happenstances - These include but are not limited to: not eating garlic during life, a pregnant woman not eating salt during her pregnancy, if the mother of a child is a witch and/or uses spells and incantations, if someone lives an amoral life (such as obtaining money falsely, for instance, as well as being violent etc. as mentioned before), if a pregnant woman is seen by a vampire (and given the evil eye; a big deal in folklore)... all of these would result in the person and/or the child in question becoming a vampire after death, but they would not be born this way. All of these emphasize that being a vampire is a curse, often put upon those who do not live moral lives. Or, I guess, those who don’t eat their proper anti-vampire diet.

Did NOT appear in folklore

Almost any case of a vampire “creating” another vampire - This wasn’t really a thing in folklore. Much like how lycanthropy wasn’t considered a “contagious disease” in any fashion in folklore, being a vampire was a curse, and it wasn’t something they could pass on. Events in a person’s life, whether in or out of their control, determined whether they would become a vampire; this is especially true of Romanian folklore.

Blood transfusion - They didn’t really do blood transfusions back when - though drinking blood was a thing, actually, and not just for vampires; more on that later, though - so obviously there’s no vampire folklore where you put a vampire’s blood into someone else and then that person becomes a vampire, for so many reasons.

Drinking vampire blood - Nope. In fact, a vampire’s heart was sometimes eaten or the ashes of the heart drank by someone in order to destroy a vampire.

Biting a human - Nope. First of all, vampires in folklore didn’t really have the signature fangs to leave those fang marks that means someone will turn into a vampire. Vampires drank blood from their victims all the time and no one ended up becoming a vampire from it, really.

And that’s all for now!

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[borealis-strange]

Chapter 6 “The witch market”

Link

Summary: 

Franco and Regina finally arrive in the glorious Palladium city, also known as the "Phoenix city" for being reborn from the ashes.

They explore the entire city, seeing everything new it has to offer. The new buildings and the witch market.

After a long day of walking, Franco meets an old friend...

Notes:

I'm thinking of doing some drawings and add them to the story. What do you guys think?

Tag-list:  @freesiafields @bambirexwrites @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen @vaeya @sirenlovesqueen @moreofthatqueen @eileen-crys​

If someone wants to be added or removed from the tag-list, just tell me :}

We decided to leave Gold Pine right after breakfast, rather, Franco decided that. He said something about him wanting to spend more time at Paladium. I didn't blame him, he surely wanted to see how much the city had changed since his departure.

We went to the big red brick station. The place was packed with people, which surprised me. I understood that this station was only about 15 years old, plus it only had trains that led to Paladium. In a way, it reminded me of the entrance to The Shelter, mostly because of the busy people who kept pushing you.

We bought the cheapest ticket we could get, which was only a few copper coins, and we set off on our journey.

The train turned out better than I expected; even though the seats were so close to each other that they stifled a bit, but that was the least of it. At least we had managed to sit together.

The train ride was uneventful, without much to see.

I hadn't been on a train in years, four to be exact, and that's when I left The Shelter. I was only 14 years old and I remember how scared I was traveling all over the Empire on my own. How small and lost I was not knowing where to go. Now all that has changed, I am very grateful that I now had Franco to accompany me.

I turned to see him. His gaze was still lost in the window and I could see how Franco's hands were trembling slightly.

— All good? — Asked.

Franco turned to see me with some nervousness and took his hands to control them.

— Yes… all good — Was the only thing he said before looking out the window again.

__________________

After just over two hours of travel, we finally reached the huge and glorious Palladium city. I had heard some calling it Phoenix City for having survived its destruction and rising from the ashes.

We crossed the city on the train and I was amazed by its large stone buildings where pointed arches were used, roofs with steep slopes and elegant carvings such as lace and latticework. Even though there were still several buildings under construction, the city looked fantastic. ///

I watched as the buildings stopped going by so fast as the train slowed down little by little. Finally it stopped completely. We grab our things before getting off next to the sea of ​​people.

The station was packed with people, which surprised me even more. There were still not too many roads, that I know you could only go to Gold Pine and the Tree city, but maybe they had already built more railways.

We made our way through the people as best we could, until we found the exit.

Right at the exit was a statue of a Netherite knight, as if he was protecting everyone who came to the city. I could see that it had a few flowers at the base. Franco approached the statue and looked at it for a moment before continuing on his way.

As I left the station, the sun dazzled me slightly, presenting the great city to me. Franco stayed a few seconds admiring the city and I did the same. It was simply beautiful, like none I had ever seen before.

I turned to see Franco for a second, he had crystalline eyes, it seemed that he was going to cry at any moment.

— Are you alright — I asked

— Yes ... it's just that ... the last time I saw the Paladium city was when it was destroyed  —Franco replied in a whisper — I never believed they were going to rebuild it as beautiful as it once was —

— Was Paladium the same as now? — I asked.

— No… it's quite different… actually — Franco replied, as if he still couldn't believe we were here. — It's ... much better ... than I expected —

I smiled a little. I couldn't imagine how many thoughts should be going through his head, the only thing I could decipher was some relief. Franco started walking and I followed him.

— And where do you want to go? — Asked.

— I don't know — Franco confessed as he shrugged. — Somewhere ... would be fine —

This… would be interesting. Neither of us had come to the new city. Franco could guide us a bit but who knows how much the city has changed in 30 years.

The first thing we did was look for a hostel to stay in. To be able to leave the backpacks and not have to carry them around the city.

After doing that, Franco guided me through different streets of the city showing me different places, or rather where they were thirty years ago. He showed me where the old knight academy should be, where he did much of his training. He told me that there came knights from all over the Empire since it was the best Academy. It was unfortunate that they did not rebuild it. We couldn't figure out what they were doing now in that place

He also took me where the old castle of the King of Farfania was, now they seemed to be building a great cathedral. Franco told me that he served his former queen for a time. He said that the castle was a beautiful and elegant place, where he had met some of his friends.

Franco showed me an old theater, which according to him had been rebuilt as it was. I had never been a big fan of the theater, and Franco apparently neither, but even so he remembered a few plays. Franco confessed that he came to come a couple of times for a girl that he liked. He couldn't tell me what happened to that relationship.

We come to an area with different houses. Franco told me that this is the street where he grew up. He told me how he used to be a bit of a messy and rebellious kid, who used to get in trouble with everyone. Until, he decided to join the royal guard when he was only 16 years old. He said it was difficult, that no one had confidence in him but he still managed to have great rank and recognition.

We ended up arriving at a large park, full of large trees and people walking and playing. Most striking was the large statue of a Netherite knight in the center.

Franco walked automatically to the large statue, and I followed him.

It was at least 10 meters tall, made of iron that had deteriorated over time. The knight had a heroic pose, raising his sword into the air. The base was made of marble and had a plaque with a dedication. I leaned a little closer to see what it was saying.

“To the 19 Netherite knights who sacrificed their lives for others. We will never forget such a heroic act. Rest in peace and may glory always be with you "

Below were the 19 names, of which I did not recognize any.

—The Netherite knights — I said in a whisper.

Franco came silently to my side and began to analyze the names. I felt like my heart skipped a beat, he had met each one of them.

— One is missing — I heard Franco say, I assumed he said it to himself because of the low voice that he said.

— The King of Farfania — I completed

Franco seemed to laugh when I said that.

— Yes — He said sadly — He used to have a statue, right in this place. He destroyed it himself —

 — Why? — I asked as if Franco had the answer.

— He said that statue did not represent him and that they would make a real one when he saved the Empire — Franco said in a low voice.

— He was really crazy — I commented.

Franco looked at me with sad eyes before looking back from him to the statue.

We stayed a few more minutes appreciating the great stature. Franco moved a little closer to the plate and seemed to say a few words. Maybe some prayer or thanks for the fallen knights or… apologize for not being able to save them.

I don't know if I should tell them something, it would be rude of me not to.

“Thank you for his heroic act. For having saved thousands of people and giving people hope" I said while touching the plate. I wish I had flowers to leave them.

When Franco finished, he gestured to me that it was time to go.

We continued walking in the big city but this time Franco did not tell me about the old buildings or their history. He just walked around like I wasn't with him. Although, this time it seemed that Franco knew where he wanted to go. I ran a little to catch up

— And where will we go? — I asked excitedly when I got to his side.

— Now that I think about it ... I would like to see if The Witch Market still exists — Franco replied with a small smile.

— The what? — I asked.

— Don't tell me you haven’t heard about it! The best market of all, where there are only things of the best quality — Franco said proudly.

I couldn't help but laugh a little at Franco's excitement. To be honest, he had never seen him like this.

____________________

We didn't have to walk too far to get to the market,

The market was inside a one-story tall building. It had a large entrance with doors made of metal. On the sides were large colorful stained glass windows. The crystals were not only the windows but also represented figures of different creatures, day and night, in addition to various plants, more than just windows, they seemed a work of art

Franco stopped for a moment before entering the market and I appreciated it for a moment.

— It seemed that this if they wanted to leave - Franco said with a big smile.

— Are we coming to buy something in particular? — Asked.

— To get you a shield — Franco replied happily — You've been without one for too long. —

— Pfff — I exclaimed with a gesture with my hands — Why do I need a shield? I know how to fight — I said nonchalantly.

— You may know how to fight but you do not know how to defend yourself. This is the new part of your training: coordinating between defense and attack. And it is more difficult than it sounds. Believe me — Franco explained with a smile.

How difficult could it be? I defend myself with one arm and attack with the other. And voila, I know how to defend myself.

— Why don't you explore a bit? — Franco told me. — We still need food, plus you will surely find something you like. See you at the entrance in an hour —

Franco patted me on the back before losing himself in the crowd. The atmosphere was energetic inside the market, with all the people mobilizing and the vendors shouting.

I entered with some nervousness, to tell the truth, I had never been to a market, mostly because my uncle would not let me leave the castle. I couldn't be nervous, I had defeated a golem! This should be easier.

Even though the market was not as crowded as I expected, I still had to dodge people, mostly those who were watching the stalls.

All the stalls were quite different from each other, apart from selling food, they also sold clothes, books, plants, anything you could imagine, you could get it here.

I went over to one of the candy stalls, where everything smelled delicious. It sold everything, caramel cookies, milk balls, golden licorice and more sweets that I could not decipher what they were, I suppose they were traditional from other species.

Then I went to a goblin's stand, where he had all kinds of plants, both decorative and for making potions. It was also filled with flowers of all colors and sizes, all of which gave off a sweet scent. There were even plants that I had never seen, like some kind of algae but in different colors and seemed to move slightly. The seller explained to me that he had obtained it from the depths of The coast of Silence and he explained that some people used it as a method of transportation, he did not want to give me a demonstration because of how dangerous the plant could be.

I saw a stall where they sold clothes, which took me by surprise but I still decided to go closer. They sold clothes made of different types of fabric that did not fit well together, but had a certain charm. They were mostly dresses.

There was a stall where a wizard sold wands. I would have tried them if it hadn't been that I had no magic. The wizard told me that he carved the wands himself, taking care of every detail. They were really pretty, plus apparently they all had a unique engraving.

I approached another of the stalls. One where they sold fresh fruit of all kinds; apples, watermelons, pears, plums, peaches, everything. They looked pretty good, unlike the other stalls.

— Wow — exclaimed the woman who attended the stall — I haven't seen enchanted armor in years. Why do you need armor like that? —

— Oh. It is for when I enter the Royal Guard — I said with pride.

— The royal guard? — Said the surprised woman. — That thing dissolved years ago—

That was not true! I think… Franco used to tell me how he did his service in Tree City and Paladium, and that it was usual for knights to be in big cities but… so far he hadn't seen any.

— Dissolved? — I asked confused.

— Why do you think there are no longer knights in the cities? Well… it was not completely dissolved, the few remaining knights do their service on the walls. It is rare to see someone doing his service in cities or towns — The woman said while she attended to another person.

— Why did it dissolve? — I asked.

— Have you lived under a stone all this time? — Said the woman contemptuously — The fall of Farfania! Unfortunately, several knights died to protect civilians. Especially the Netherite knights, the poor people went to face the king of Farfania alone and well ... you can imagine what happened. Some say that the Netherite knight killed the others because he wanted to be the only one “worthy” of that rank —

That was… much worse than I had imagined.

— After that a huge collective fear arose. — The woman continued — During the following years people lived scared that the king of Farfania would return, so many people decided to retire from the royal guard, although it seems that it is already recovering. Also ... come closer girl — she indicated — There are rumors that the Netherite Knight has returned — she said in a low voice just for me to hear her.

— Seriously? — I was puzzled. That was impossible but… just like my uncle had said, they left him alive.

— Like I said girl, they are just rumors. There have been several robberies of powerful objects throughout the empire and since the kings have not said anything about it, people create their own theories —

— What… things have they stolen? — I asked.

— Everything, books, armor, a lot of building materials, red stone, there are even people who say they have kidnapped fairies. Total chaos —

My mind returned when we went to the Poppy Garden. The fairies had mentioned a wither skeleton. Was he ... the Netherite knight?

— And how are people so sure that he is the Netherite knight? —

— It's hard to forget those white eyes and shadowy appearance — The woman replied.

It was the Wither skeleton. Or at least someone who could easily be mistaken for the knight. Oh Gods, I had messed with some copycat! I hoped that the fairies and Vandal had nothing to do with the knight, but something in me told me that this was not true.

— Are you going to buy fruit or not? — 0The woman took me out of my thoughts.

At the end I brought a few apples and peaches, before I left, not without earning the dissatisfied look of another customer.

I left the market thinking about what the woman had told me. They were just rumors but the rumors have some truth. And if wither skeleton wasn't the Netherite knight, he must be some madman who wanted to replicate his footsteps. The truth did not know which was worse. I should tell Franco about this, mostly because of Vandal. The boy must have something on his hands but Franco had told me to leave him alone. I had to find some way to convince him to seek out and confront Vandal.

After a few minutes, Franco arrived, carrying a gleaming shield.

— I found this and at a very good price — Franco said with emotion — Wouldn't you like to try it? —

I left my worries behind and agreed.

__________________

Franco ended up guiding me back to the knight's park. I didn't know if it was such a good idea to practice there, but when I saw that it was now practically empty, I ended up accepting.

We looked for a space where there were not too many trees and I started with a little warm-up.

Franco sat on one of the benches with some difficulty and from there he began to give me instructions.

I tried my best to imitate everything he said to me. I knew the terms and positions perfectly, but apparently Franco did not find it appropriate.

— You're not doing it right! — Franco yelled at me. I stopped immediately to turn to see him — Your posture is not adequate —

— It would be easier if I didn't have imaginary enemies — I reproached him.

— Do you want real enemies? — Franco said as he got up from the bench with difficulty — I will be your opponent -

Franco stood in front of me, and looked at me challengingly and with a smug smile.

— Seriously? I thought you couldn't fight — I said amused.

— Of course I can! —Franco exclaimed — I'm a little rusty but it won't be a problem against a rookie —

— Okay — I said between a laugh — But you don't even have a sword —

— I suppose that with my cane it will be enough — Franco said with a smile — It will only be to explain the fundamentals and that you understand better. No need to get aggressive —

I had to suppress a laugh.

—We'll start slow — Franco said as he got into position to start. I imitated him.

Franco told me to follow his movements like a mirror; Franco did them slowly and calmly. Most of the exercises were straightforward, as Franco said it was mostly for coordination. Franco told me that later he would teach me more complicated things but that this was a good start.

I was surprised by how easily Franco managed to move. The only thing was that he seemed not to want to put much support on his left foot.

I don't know how long we were training. Although I would have liked a "real fight", it would be interesting, especially with Franco. I had to be patient, I suppose there will be a chance at another time.

— With that you will have enough for today — Franco told me as he gave me a small bow.

I returned the bow and put my sword away.

— And how did I do it? — I asked excitedly.

— Good — Franco said with a small smile — You are doing quite well — He said, giving me a few pats on the back.

______________

After a long day of walking around the city, all Franco wanted to do was rest. His leg was killing him with pain, he hoped that the next day the pain would subside, he didn't want to have to tell Regina that they couldn't travel. Although it wouldn't be so bad now that he thought about it, he could explore other areas of the city that they hadn't visited that day.

He sat on his bed, ready to go to sleep, when a strange breeze filled the room. Franco managed to see a shadow crawl across the ground to form a peculiar figure.

— You are very difficult to find, you know? — Said a voice behind him.— And I have to say ... The years have not been good to you —

That voice, that voice so deep it could make anyone's hair stand on end. That voice, that belonged to a Wither skeleton.

— What do you want!? — Franco yelled, turning behind him.

Rich was still the same as thirty years ago. The same white eyes, the same red coat, and the same gloomy appearance. Although he had to say that he looked too…. worn out somehow.

The skeleton put a finger over his mouth.

— If I were you, I would not speak so loud — Rich spoke calmly. — We don't want to wake people up —

Franco looked at him suspiciously.

— What do you want? — Franco repeated in a low voice.

— I can't visit an old friend? — Said the skeleton mockingly as he began to walk around the room — Being in these directions I remembered the old days. You remember that day? The last time we saw each other. —

— Of course I remember — Franco lamented.

The skeleton approached the window and slightly opened the curtain. He observed all the people passing by on the street, no one noticed his presence. After a few seconds, the skeleton spoke again.

— They  kings rebuilt a part of the Empire, when will they do the same with the rest? — He commented without turning to see Franco

— They won't unless…— Franco broke off quickly.

— Unless, we destroy the Empire. Franco, you are finally understanding what I came for — Said the skeleton with a malicious smile and finally looking back at Franco.

— I will not return to that cause! — Franco yelled furious as he got up from the bed.

— Why? If you let me into the Empire in the first place. — The skeleton approached Franco defiantly — You supported the cause with your heart and sword. It's a matter of time until you get back to it. Also, haven't you seen what we've created? When we destroyed Farfania, people advanced, created new things that were previously believed to be just dreams —

— Stop it! Don't ever mention anything about that again! —

— Don't scream. Or do you want the girl to find out about your betrayal of the empire? —

Franco looked away from him. When he turned around, Rich was already gone.

For years he had tried to get away from that black stain in his past, but somehow it always came back. And worst of all, Rich had survived, something he thought impossible, but when you're a skeleton, you really can't die, right?