#it’s like I’ve sent my husband to slaughter

[benschwartzcinematicuniverse]

🎭 Schwartz Madness 🏀

Blank bracket can be found here. Results so far under the cut!

[axelsagewrites]

Robb Stark*Frey Girl

Pairing: Robb x F!Frey!Reader

Warnings: Angry Catelyn angst, smut (f receiving oral, loss of virginity, p in v sex, that kinda thing) 18+

Summary: When the war is done Robb can finally enjoy alone time with his queen

Word count: 4127

Requested

A/N: This is basically 2 smuts in one but I didn’t wanna turn this into 3 parts so here’s one long one for yous all.

You don’t need to read part one but for context if not Robb marries a Frey girl and takes her to war with him.

Also alt timeline where Robb wins the war and goes back to the independent North

Masterlist Here

Part one Here

Robb had meant what he said on your wedding day. You joined him and his men on their journey and he brought you to all his council meetings much to his men’s and mother’s dismay. No one believed a word out of your mouth either because you were a woman or a Frey. However, Robb did not listen to their pleads to set you aside and continued to take your counsel. The men hated you for that.

That was until they won their next battle, following your plans, and crushing Tywin’s forces. It was apparent they had been waiting for Robb and his men when the Starks were easily able to flank them from the side and back, effectively trapping them in their slaughter. After that his advisors wouldn’t hold a meeting without you. Catelyn’s heart began to soften to you the longer her son survived but there was still a stale bitter air from her whenever you were present.

“She doesn’t like me,” you said as you lay on your bed in Robb and yours tent. He sighed and got up from his table, hands running through his hair, “I don’t mind that she doesn’t, but you can’t lie and say she does,”

“She doesn’t know you,” he said.

“Or like me,” you chirped, rolling over to sit on the bed facing him, “I don’t get why this upsets you more than me,”

Robb sighed as he sat beside you on the bed, his arm resting behind your back so you could lean on him, “Because I want her to like you! Like I do. Well not quite the same I suppose but still,” he said.

“I want her to like me too,” you said as you took his hand to hold, “but it’s hardly something we can rush. This is my war,” you said, and Robb’s eyes squinted in confusion, “Men go off and fight in battles with swords. Us women fight our war with words. For all your mother knows I’ve secured you and was sent to trick you,”

“My mother doesn’t think you seduced me,” Robb said, and you laughed in response causing a smirk to fall on Robb’s lips, “Or did you?” he asked as he grabbed your hips, pulling you into his lap.

You laughed at the sudden movement, but it was silenced by Robb placing his lips on yours. In all the time you had been at war you had yet to bed your husband, but you had been intimate in other ways so the taste of his lips was nothing new but still as intoxicating as before. “Maybe I did,” you grinned, bringing your hands to rest on his chest, your hips lightly grinding into his as you made yourself comfortable on his lap, “Are you complaining?”

Robb hummed as his hands fell from your hips to your ass, squeezing as they did, “I’m not sure. Do you think its wise to seduce your king?” he asked as he smirked.

You matched his smirk with your own as you began to place kisses to his jaw, “Only when they look like you your grace,” an airy laugh left his lips, but it stopped when you grinded against his lap again, this time feeling something twitch in his trousers. “Unless you’d prefer me to stop,” you said, removing your lips from his skin.

Robb’s fingers dug into your ass as he pulled you closer, grinding against you as he did, “Who said you were allowed to stop?” he asked as he began trailing his own kisses down your neck, stopping at your collarbone to nip it with his teeth before soothing it with his lips. You gasped at the feeling, grinding your hips into his again. his hands went to your hips to hold them steady as he brought his up to grind against you.

You pushed his chest, dethatching his lips from your skin, and causing him to fall back onto the bed. You knew he had only let you push him, however. You crawled to be on top of him, your lips going to his.

By now you had learned what he liked and brought your fingers to tangle in his curls causing moans to fall from his lips as he continued to grind his hips against you. His hands squeezed your hips tighter. His lips fit perfectly against yours and his teeth began to nip at your bottom lip begging for entrance which you quickly granted. The kiss was slow and tender, but you grew hungry for more. Weeks of making out and grinding but nothing more had left you feeling desperate for your husband’s touch.

As your hips grinded against his you felt his cock harden underneath you, threatening to break free. The feeling of his cock against you made you moan into the kiss. Robb’s hands went up to your waist, gripping it, and pushing you off of him to climb on top of you. He pulled out the kiss, his breath falling heavy against your skin, “Tell me what you want,” he asked as he began to leave sloppy kisses to your neck.

You moaned under his touch, “I want you inside of me,” you confessed.

Robb stopped his assault on your neck, moving to look you in your eyes, “Are you sure love? We don’t have to,” his hand trailed along your arm, moving down to hold your hand.

You smiled at your husband, ever honourable and noble, you had never expected to have to wait this long and you could only imagine he was as desperate as you, “I am. I want this. I want you,” you told him, your hand resting on his jaw.

Robb grinned down at you beneath him, “You have no idea how much I want you,” he confessed as he sat up, taking off his shirt and loosening his trousers, “I’ve dreamt of this every night,”

You giggled at his words as he undressed himself. “Help me with my dress?” you asked when he was finished and soon you were only in your shift which you decided to keep on. Despite knowing no one would dare enter the tent you were still aware of the number of men around you from the noises from outside the tent.

Robb laid you down on the bed, positioning himself above you, before placing a tender kiss on your lips. “If you want to stop, just tell me,” he said, and you nodded in response. Robb used one hand to keep him up and the other to grab his member, running it along your folds almost teasing you. You let out a moan at the feeling alone. When he pushed in you couldn’t stop the gasp. Robb paused but his tip remained inside you, “Are you okay love?” he asked, placing a kiss to your forehead, “Is it too much?”

You gripped onto his bicep, feeling how strong his muscle was compared to your grip, “Its just big,” you said, and Robb grinned at your words, “Just go slow,”

“Of course, my queen,” Robb said as he slowly began to push further inside of you with his eyes locked on yours. You held your gasp in this time as he began to stretch you until he was almost fully inside when he paused, “Let me know when you’re ready,” Robb said, and you nodded.

Your hand moved to his hair, pulling him down into a kiss which he gladly accepted. His lips began to devour yours as the burning sensation eased. Lust began to burn inside you as the feeling became more comfortable. You pulled away from his kiss, “You can move now,”

Robb nodded and slowly he did as you said. He began to slowly move his hips, thrusting in and out of you as the new sensation made your skin tingle. Robb’s eyes were screwed shut, soft moans falling from his lips from his movements. You began to feel more at ease with the thrusts and you craved more.

Breathy moans fell from your lips as your hands went to hold his shoulders, feeling how strong they were from all his training. “Robb please,” you gasped as he thrust into you again.

“Please what my queen?” he asked, opening his eyes but continuing his agonisingly slow pace.

You whined beneath him, “Go faster. Please. I can handle it,”

“Oh yeah?” Robb asked as he began to thrust his hips faster, “You think you can handle me?” he asked. You moaned at the new speed, moving your hips in an attempt to meet his. He held your hips down with his hand. “Lie still sweetheart,” he said as you moaned his name softly, “Fuck you’re so pretty when you do that,” he said as he began to thrust harder.

“Fuck,” you gasped as he began to hit new depths inside of you, “Please Robb fuck,” you gasped.

“Please what?” he asked as he gripped your hips tighter.

“Don’t stop,” you answered, your eyes screwing shut as an unfamiliar knot grew in your stomach, “Please don’t stop,”

Robb almost chuckled at your words, “I’m not done with you yet my queen,” he said as he leaned down to join your lips. The kiss was messy and sloppy as he continued his thrusts. Whenever the kiss broke you felt his hot heavy breath against your wet lips. Robb broke the kiss again, leaning his sweating forehead against yours, “I think I’m gonna,” he said, trailing off as he screwed his eyes shut.

Before you could respond someone outside the tent yelled Robbs name. “Don’t come in!” He yelled back, not stopping his pace, “Fuck I don’t think I can wait,” he whispered to you, unfazed by whoever was outside. In this moment he was your husband, not someone’s king.

“It’s okay,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. A guttural moan fell from his lips and suddenly all his movements stopped as his eyes screwed up tighter, his whole body going tense. You felt a new sensation in your cunt that was already wet from your actions but was now filled with his seed.

It was once you realised what had happened Robb basically collapsed on top of you, laying on you with ragged breathing. “I’m sorry love,” he said, and you cut him off by pressing your lips against his, almost shivering at his touch, “I’ll make it up to you I promise,”

Again, someone yelled his name from outside the tent. “I swear to fuck,” Robb whispered before turning his head to yell at the tents entrance, “I said go!” he yelled. As Robb began to move off of you the tent burst open. Robb scrambled to pull sheets on top of you both and your face went red when you realised who had burst in. “Mother?!” Robb said, his eyes wide as she closed the tent behind her storming in.

“We’re in a war and your advisors need you and your too busy bedding some woman “she began her rant, her face flushing red.

Robb sat up as you pulled the sheets closer to you, “She is my wife,” Robb said, his words spitting venom. “Isn’t this what I’m supposed to be doing?”

“You’re supposed to be making battle plans to win this wretched war!” she bellowed.

Robb straightened his posture and glared at his mother as you tried to avoid the crossfire beneath the sheets, “And what about after the war?” he asked, “I’ll need heirs surely. Is that not why kings have queens?” you felt your heart twinge at his words. Almost sensing your pain, Robb’s hand found yours under the sheets, “She is my queen. Your queen. You don’t have to like her, but I do,”

“Maybe I’d like her better if her father didn’t try and betray us!”

“And who was it that warned us of this?” Robb bellowed across the tent, his hand squeezing yours tighter, and even you were almost frightened of him in the moment. The movement outside the tent seemed to quiet as did the noise inside the tent. “You have no right to barge into my tent,” Robb said, his voice lowered.

“I am your mother,” Catelyn said, her voice low and shaky. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

“It means everything to me,” Robb said, “But so does she. And if you have an issue with it, I suggest you keep it to yourself,” A heavy silence hung over the tent which was only broke by the sound of Catelyn turning and storming out.

Robb sighed and flung himself back down onto the bed beside you. He raised his hand, still holding yours, and kissed the back of your hand. “That’s not how I wanted that to go,” he confessed.

You curled into your husband’s side and pressed a kiss to his clenched jaw, “It’s a good thing we have a lifetime to do it again,” Robb smiled at your words, “but for now,” you continued, “I think its best you talk to your mother,”

Robb sighed before turning his head to face you with a grin, “I hate how you’re always right,”

“You’re gonna hate it for a lifetime as well im afraid,” you smiled back at him, your nose scrunching as you did. Robb leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to your lips before you pushed him back gently, “Go. Before she starts another war,”

“Fine, fine,” Robb huffed as he climbed out of bed and began to dress, “but this is not over,” he said with grin, placing a kiss to your forehead before he left.

He was gone for a while and for many days after Catelyn avoided eye contact with you however eventually she slowly began to warm up to you. Every time Robb rode into battle it was just you and a few nonfighting men left so you had to talk eventually. Robb tried to leave Greywind with you for protection, but you insisted you were safe without him. Catelyn saw the way you spoke to her son before he rode to battle, how you leaned into his touch scared it would be your last, you reminded her of herself.

After so much time and so much loss the war was won. The seven kingdoms had become six and the North had its King back at Winterfell. A new monarch ruled in Kingslanding with an agreed understanding of your independence. Finally, you could ride back to your new home with Robb. It didn’t take long for the remaining Starks to follow and now everyone was safe at Winterfell.

It was Catelyn who suggested a second wedding to brighten the spirits of the North. You and Robb had a second wedding in the Gods wood to have your marriage recognised by the old Gods, Greywind still by your side. The celebration lasted days and was also celebrating the Norths independence amongst everything else.

Between the war and the celebrations, you had been so busy you had hardly saw Robb. After the weeklong celebration was over and most Lords had returned with their people to their castles or holdings you hoped you would finally have time with him.

The sky was dark and the only men in the castle were guards on night watch who bowed as you passed them. The queen in the north. Off to find her king with a direwolf by her side. You knew where he would be. You entered the newly assembled throne room with Greywind walking beside you and smiled when you noticed Robb sat on Winterfell’s new throne, with one of equal size beside it for you. He had insisted a smaller one was an insult to you, and no one argued with the king. Apart from his wife of course.

“What are you doing up so late?” you asked, shutting the doors behind you and walking up to your husband.

He smiled seeing you, but you could see all the emotions swimming behind his mind, “Its all finally sinking in,” he said. He looked down and saw Greywind by your side, “Does he follow you everywhere?”

“Normally yeah. I am his favourite after all,” you teased as you stood in front of him, your hand resting on his.

Robb smiled as he pulled you to sit on his lap, facing out to the throne room, “I can’t blame him. He has good taste,” he said, and you hummed in agreement. “How does it feel to be a queen?”

“How does it feel to be a king?” you answered his question with one of your own. Neither one of you knew how to feel but you knew with Robb beside you, you would figure it out. “If I’m queen does that mean I can do whatever I want?” you asked.

Robb hummed behind you, placing a kiss to the back of your neck, “I suppose so love. As long as you’re with me,”

You leaned back into his chest, “There’s nowhere I’d rather be my king,” Robb looked into your eyes before crashing his lips onto yours. They were hungry and strong like his hands that were gripping onto your hips, securing you in place. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip, and you were no one to deny your king. He gained entry, his tongue fighting with yours. It was sloppy and impatient but so fiery it made a warm feeling flood your stomach.

Greywind growled from beside the throne causing you to pull away, almost gasping for air, “I don’t think he’s so happy,” You said, giggling when Robb moved to kiss your neck.

“Then send him away,” Robb said before biting the spot where your neck and shoulder met. You gasped then moaned when he soothed it with his tongue.

You tried waving your hand, signalling the wolf to go but he only came closer. “Greywind no,” you said, moaning again when Robbs kisses trailed up to under your jaw. “Go Greywind,” you tried again. Finally, the wolf took the message and padded away and out of the door to the throne room. “The door,” you reminded Robb when you realised it was open still.

Robb groaned as he picked you up and set you beside the throne, “You better be naked when I get back,” he said before rushing over to shut the door. you quickly did as your king commanded. Due to the hour, you were only in your night clothes and a cloak anyway which you had kept tightly shut before getting in the room. Now the fabric was discarded beside the thrones.

He had a wolfish hunger in his eyes as he strode across the throne room to you. He pulled you in by the back of your neck for a frantic kiss before he shoved you by your hips to sit on the throne. “I’ve been waiting for this,” Robb said as he stripped himself of his tunic and undershirt. “That whole war all I could think about was getting home so I could please my queen,” he said as he sunk to his knees in front of you, “Would you like that?” Robb asked as he pressed a kiss to your knee, the another slightly further up and up, “Do you want me to please you right here on the throne?” Robb asked as he placed your legs over his shoulder, and he placed a final kiss to your inner thigh.  

He looked up at you with desperate eyes, his breath fanning over your wet core where his mouth was mere inches from. You nodded down at him, biting your lip as equally desperate as him.  Robb just chuckled though and pressed another kiss to your other thighs, “I want to hear you say it my queen,” he said.

It was as if your breath was caught in your throat. “Please,” you managed to breathe out, “Please my king. Make me come undone,” you begged.

“Your wish is my command,” he said as he ran a finger up your folds, “Your so wet for me,” Robb chuckled causing your cheeks to flush, “Such a pretty site,” he praised before leaning closer and pressing a kiss to your now exposed clit causing you to gasp.

Robb gripped your thighs as he brought his mouth to your core. He began trailing feather light licks up your cunt going slow and teasing moans and obscenities to fall from your lips. He slowly increased the pressure, his nose coming to nuzzle your clit as he brought his tongue closer. By now anyone in the hall could probably hear your curses as he was lapping up your juices, his tongue diving into your hole as his nose nudged your clit. A line of moans and gasps fell out your lips at the feeling of his mouth. It was the first time you had been touched in this way and you begged it would not be the last.

Suddenly you felt his fingertips circling your hole, his tongue moving up to focus on swirling around your clit. You gasped in pleasure when his fingers entered you, curling perfectly as he had learned to do over your rushed encounters in the war. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach grow and tighten as Robb increased his fingers speed till, he hit a sweet spot when a loud moan fell from your lips. You could almost feel his smirk against your cunt, knowing he had found it. his added tongue only made you crazier as begs and curses fell from your lips, begging him to keep going.

The pressure continued to build until you felt his teeth graze your clit then suddenly all the pressure released, and the most unladylike moans erupted out of your lips as your body shake under his touch. Your whole body was exhausted by the time Robb stood; his face wet with your juices but he didn’t seem to care as he dove in for a hungry kiss.

His lips were rough against yours as he lifted you off the throne to quickly replace you, placing you on his lap facing him. Robb pulled back from the kiss to hold your face and push your hair from your face, “Fuck you’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips, “Let’s see if I can make you do that again. Would you like that love?” he asked as he began unlacing his trousers. You kissed him in response, unable to speak from the tiredness that had overcome your body. Robb chuckled into the kiss, “You’re perfect,” he said.

You managed to force your body up enough for him to slide his trousers down. You looked down to see Robb’s hard cock spring free from his trousers. The tip was red, and you could already see his precum dripping off the top. Robb held your hips, pulling you closer and guiding his cock if for you to sink down on. Your breath hitched in your throat at the girth but there was little pain after how he had prepared you.

Robb cursed at the feeling of you sinking down on him and his hands stayed on your hips which he began moving to grind onto him, moans falling from his lips. “You feel so good,” He grunted as he hung his neck to rest on your shoulder, “You’ll be the end of me,” Rob told you.

Finally feeling more awake from before you began to grind your hips to match his, Robb’s head falling back to rest on the back of the throne as he watched you ride him on it. more curses fell from both your lips at the feeling. You weren’t going fast enough for the king however who decided to grip your hips tighter and snap his hips up to thrust into you. Endless moans fell from your lips as Robb thrust into you faster than before.

You felt the same knot as before build in your stomach as he thrust into you. Suddenly Robb licked his fingers before bringing them down to rub your already sensitive clit causing the knot to tangle a hundred times more. It didn’t take long for the pressure to build and crash again as you came undone around him a second time. As you squeezed around his cock Robb felt his own orgasm quickly approaching so as you rode out your peak, he chased his.

Robb let out a growl as his seed spilt into you and you fell onto his chest on the throne. The room was silent apart from both your panting. After a few moments of silence, you pressed a kiss to Robbs chest, “We should do that again sometime,”

“Oh, we’re gonna do this a lot more love,”

Taglist: @twilightrows @graniairish @kimm4710

[derpyk726]

Maya and the Three + Analog Horror

Hey guys! I have been thinking of a Maya and the three au. So I’ve been interested in analog horror, and thought if Maya and the three + analog horror would make a pretty good au.

So here’s my summary of the au. In the modern times, a newly wed couple (Maya and Zatz) are two archeologists, while having an expedition throughout South America, as well as their honeymoon 😁, but they hear rumors, that people have gone missing in the forests of Brazil, as well as in the mountains of Peru. There have also been rumors of vengeful spirits roaming around South America, looking for those who wronged them. These spirits are known as “The Three” (Rico, Chimi, and Picchu) and there is also a story, of 3 outcasts from Luna Island, Jungle Lands, as well as the Golden Mountains, who were forced to be sent to the god of war, Lord Mictlan, in order for the kingdoms to be saved. The Three died very brutal deaths, and because of Lord Mictlan, cursed to live as monstrous entities, for 500 years. The Three had hope, that the Teca army, but they came too late, and were slaughtered as well. There were gods who chose to escape because of Lord Mictlan’s insanity (Camazotz, Lady Micte, Vucub, Cipactli, and Cabrakan). The escaped Gods went away and started new lives in North America. The wife of Lord Mictlan, Lady Micte, started a family with a man and his wife, and they loved each other very much (King Teca and Queen Teca), and had 4 children. Two children are also expected from the family. Lady Micte then decides stop Mictlan, as well as free the spirits of the Three, but she sadly fails, along with Camazotz, who also left his family behind. Before going to South America to stop Lord Mictlan, Lady Micte makes a video message to Maya, one of her youngest children, that she’s sorry she had to leave her behind, because of a cause, as well as revealing that she’s the Goddess of Death. This leaves to a 27 yr old Maya, and her new husband, Zack (Zatz), while also having their expedition, as well as their honeymoon, to look for their missing parent, as well as free the Three

And now, for the Three!

Rico: Rico’s a very tragic soul, whose limbs can float, as well as his head. He tends to stay hidden from the people, who don’t know that he lives in this part of the area. But he also has company and basically journeys through South America with his friend, the Stone Giant (Picchu), while also trying to seek friendship from the Forest Spirit (Chimi). However, if angered, he will try to kill, with his magic. There is a 50% chance that you can survive Rico. But if you succeed in being friends with Rico, he will come with you, as well as have faith in you, to get the other two of the Three. He may look dangerous, but he’s just hurt, wanting to go home. He also disguises himself as a beggar when the sun arrives, always wearing a scarf, so people wouldn’t see that his head’s floating. Whenever he floats with his head, his hair also spreads, like Medusa. He also does Peasant Magic, which he mastered over the 500 years of his misery. He will try to help you go against the God of War too, as well as finding the other spirits. Rico always wanted to be lovingly embraced, if a mortal understands what he has been going through.

Chimi: Chimi’s a soul who has been deeply wronged, and is the one with the most vengeance. She has no lower body, her arms are stretched and sharp, so she can slice victims, but she also knows how to use her bow, often jumping and shooting. She has very sharp canines, clothes covered in mud and blood, her hair down and messy, her very tainted makeup, pitch black eyes, and also a very, very disturbing smile. She often talks to the Stone Giant, and also to the Sorcerer Spirit, sometimes, and often has a soft spot for them, that they are suffering the same fate as her too. If angered, Chimi will chase you on her arms (like the Japanese yo Kai, Teke Teke), and will slice the victim with her hands. Another alternate, she will try to shoot her bow at you, and once you’ve been impaled by one, she will pounce and attack you. There is a 30% chance you can survive against Chimi. If you do end up making friends with the spirit, always, I mean always, make sure that you’re not going to leave her behind, as well as betray her, so she wouldn’t get hurt and try to kill you again, but if you do, she will be very loyal to you, as your protector, while also being starved of physical affection.

Picchu: Picchu is a soul made of stone, who always roams around the Andes Mountains at night, and turning into a mountain when day comes. Picchu’s eyes are just two very deep holes, with jagged cracks below, and is always crying two water falls. He doesn’t talk, but can make sounds to show how he’s feeling. His hair is grass and vines, as well as a fruit tree on his head. He sometimes walks around the mountains, with his friend, the Sorcerer Spirit. Picchu isn’t really a spirit that kills people, but when angered, his body will have cracks, with lava inside, and well as his hair also turning into lava. His chest has a very huge hole that goes through his body. He and Rico are the most nicest spirits from the Three, but also likes spending time with his friends. There’s a 10% chance if you can survive against Picchu. If you become friends with Picchu, he’s really nice once you get to know him, and he’s also really sensitive, if you hurt his feelings. Picchu will try to give you a ride around the mountains, as well as the whole South America, if he doesn’t get caught. He too, has been starved of physical affection.

[bookandcover]

It has been far too long since I wrote one of these. I’ve gotten out of the habit. I’m also out of the habit of reading thoroughly in the way I long to, and best enjoy. It is thorough reading that lends itself to these reflective writing pieces, to tracking my thought process about a book. I have been in the habit of rushing through books for my book clubs during the busy school year. With the advent of summer break, I hope to return to that depth of reading and reflection. Let’s start with The Vegetarian. 

I read this because I loved (and was disturb, challenged, and changed by) Human Acts. Han Kang has a new book out that I hope to read this summer as well. This book has much of the same dream-like thinking, gritty realism, complex psychology, and weighty symbolism that made Human Acts so compelling. Like Human Acts, the choices around narrative point of view (who tells their story and whose story gets told) feel deliberate, strategic, and powerful. This book felt a bit less mature as a novel than Human Acts, which makes sense given it’s an earlier work by Han Kang. I felt that the framework of metaphor and meaning was a bit harder to piece together here. There were more different loose threads and more questions remaining for the reader at the end of the book. I left the novel wanting just a bit more clarity, of the type that I had gotten from Human Acts. 

That being stated, there was so much in this novel that was evocative and memorable, and which will stick with me—as imagery, as emotions, as concepts—over the years. 

We begin with Yeong-hye’s dream. It’s the dream that moves her to stop eating meat early in the novel. The nature of this dream is revealed only in fragments, as Yeong-hye’s narrative point of view is never included (she is never given a voice, in her own story). In fragments scattered among her husband’s narration, we see parts of dreams (some of which, I later realized, draw on real memories from her childhood). This left me unsure of what Yeong-hye’s dream really was: the dog dragged in circles after her father’s motorcycle until death (later, it’s clear this is a memory)? A strange moment of cannibalism (bodies in a barn, teeth sinking into flesh)? A face in pain that repeatedly confronts her? The weight of all the dead things she has eaten settling over her heart, their bodies in her body? The dream that changes Yeong-hye could be all of these things, one of them, or none. The brutality in all these images is clear. 

I deeply internalized this early explanation of Yeong-hye’s vegetarianism because it is—bizarrely, incredibly—exactly like my story. I became a vegetarian more than 13 years ago after a dream. I woke up the next day and I never ate meat again. Full stop. I have a different explanation I often give for my vegetarianism: that week, my town’s last small farm (one where my family had often volunteered our work efforts, and where we had befriended the generational farmer) went out of business. No longer able to survive as a small-scale, local operation in the face of climbing costs and competition from factory farms, the farmer went bankrupt. She needed to get rid of all her animals—about 200 sheep and 200 chickens, and 100 cattle—in 48 hours. My mom and I had helped with this, strategizing together, and my mom made phone calls to plead with people we knew to take some of these animals, so not every one would be sent to slaughter. This experience forms the backbone of my vegetarianism. Despite raising sheep and seeing other 4-H kids sending animals to slaughter, I understood that the real enemy was the factory farm operations in which animals were raised cruelly and unsustainably in order to drive down costs. I wanted to practice what I preached and one small way to do that was to not eat products I knew were coming out of the factory farming system. 

This is the rational explanation I give about my conversion to vegetarianism. Even from myself, at times, I think I have hidden away the dream. The dream is what really changed me because—in the dream—I felt everything. I understood the horror of the factory farm on an emotional, not a rational, level. My dream feels hard to explain or share because words don’t adequately capture what it felt like, still so vivid in my memory all these years later. When the topic of my vegetarianism arises, I spend a lot of time not looking at my dream directly. In my dream, I was in a warm, dark space. There was the breathing of hundreds of other animals all around me. I could feel their presences and their bodies pressing in around me. I’m not sure what form my own body took, but I perceived the dream from the eye-level of the other animals. Among them, I felt a kind of individual invisibility, a kind of blended “togetherness.” But then, I suddenly understood what was coming. I saw with crystalline horror the future just in front of us, as we were being funneled out of this dark enclosure and slaughtered. Sliced at our soft throats, second jaws gapping, dangling. I could smell the blood. I could feel the deep terror in my body, like a cramping pain inside me. The certainty of death washed over me, and the need to stand in that certainty, to just anticipate it. I woke up, shocked awake. 

The impossibility of adequately explaining how this dream felt to me, and how I woke up changed from it, makes the early fragmentation of The Vegetarian accessible to me. What is it to try to articulate the dream that redirected an essential thing? It’s better for us, the readers, to stay guessing a bit about what, exactly, is the dream. Anything less than this would feel cheap. 

Yet, this novel, it quickly becomes clear, is not really about vegetarianism. Unlike Yeong-hye, my conversion to vegetarianism went that far and no farther. Yes, I know the people in my life responded much better than Yeong-hye’s did (in fact, all my immediate family members subsequently became vegetarians), but Yeong-hye enacts a complete disengagement with the exploitative world humans inhabit and normalize on a daily basis. What is this book really about? It’s about control, and gender. It’s about obsession, and art, and self-awareness. It’s about power, and nature, and what makes a life worth living (or ending). 

The three narrators—Yeong-hye’s husband Mr. Cheong, Yeong-hye’s brother-in-law, and Yeong-hye’s sister In-hye—play out different responses, different levels of understanding, and different personal battles in the face of Yeong-hye’s increasing mental, emotional, and physical deterioration. While a key theme across the Han Kang books I’ve read is the problematic nature and impacts of the patriarchy (the violence, both physical and psychological, that men are permitted to enact on women), I felt a surprising amount of sympathy of a key male figure in this text: Yeong-hye’s brother-in-law. While Yeong-hye’s husband’s narration is repulsive in its dismissiveness of Yeong-hye’s inner life and personal experiences, and Yeong-hye’s father is revealed to be a key abuser in her childhood, Yeong-hye’s dynamic with her brother-in-law—while problematic—felt more mutually painful to me as a reader. I mention this because the brother-in-law’s narration feels like an area in the book of incredible nuance worthy of discussion. While it would be difficult to disagree about the problematic and outright morally wrong role of Yeong-hye’s husband and father, the role her brother-in-law plays is more complex. In-hye’s horror at discovering her husband and sister’s affair seems fully justified. She seems right to perceive her husband as taking advantage of her sister as her sister descends into madness. However, the brother-in-law seems to exhibit some striking similarities to Yeong-hye in a way that unites and binds them together. His obsession with the image of her Mongolian mark, and the flowers blooming on her, feels reminiscent of her obsession with the face from her dreams. An obsessive image is destroying him (his destruction includes that of his family, his role in his family, and his societal obligations). Distraught with obsession, both characters have something they want to get from the other, something they believe can be achieved by their union: relief. Viewed in this light, the brother-in-law seems as powerless in their affair as Yeong-hye does. Both are desperate, helpless, and mentally overwhelmed to the point of making choices they would not have made under normal circumstances. This feels like interesting commentary on human psychology, on the lengths we are willing to go to alleviate mental suffering, to distract or regain control of our own minds. 

During this section of the novel, I wondered whether this brand of “vegetarianism” (obsession with plants, becoming plant-like oneself) could spreading from Yeong-hye to her brother-in-law. I tried to remember (and later Googled) the kind of fungus that inhabits and controls the human brain (turns out, this is only in Science Fiction…) This infectious plant theory feels like a too-literal explanation for a more figurative arc of the novel: what does it mean to consume or be consumed? What are all the different ramifications of consumption, of eating? In the third part of the novel, there is a similar expansion of Yeong-hye’s mental state to include and impact the person closest to her. In-hye’s does not understand her sister’s condition immediately or easily. She struggles to relate to her sister when she, herself, puts “making it work” and “holding things together” above all things in her life. But she comes to understand as she visits her dying sister in the mental hospitality and witnesses the cruelty of stripping Yeong-hye of her agency, of trying to force her back into life by maintaining her body, when it’s her will to live that is being squashed. As In-hye watches doctors force-fed her sister who refuses to eat, she sees the shadows of their past in which she choose stability over freedom (she chose to return herself and her sister to their abusive father, rather than run). She finally truly sees her sister’s transformation, and longing to change states and forms, the way she is “armored by the power of her own renunciation” of meat and, in this armor—like thick skin, like bark—Yeong-hye becomes incredibly plant-like (and increasingly free from her own mind/subjected to the consumption of others). The proximity of nature, the closeness of tree and woman, returns throughout this novel. Yeong-hye insists she does not need to eat, as she—like a tree—feeds from the sunlight. Her choice to not eat meat eventually becomes a choice to not eat at all, or to not eat in the way we humans understand eating…which involves consumption and eradication, rather than transformation. 

There are several central images that, as I’ve mentioned, will remain with me. The death of the dog, both memory and dream, is one of these, as Han Kang is excellent at creating literal imagery with powerful metaphorical and philosophical resonance. This brutal scene immediately called to mind Achilles dragging Hector’s body around the walls of Troy, the public viciousness enacted by the victor, the visibility of brutality that is part of the process of control. It is not the same as violence conducted in secret. It is both more honest and more deeply performative. The second wave of metaphorical echo that flowed over me reading this scene was the Stations of the Cross, as Jesus carries the cross to his death and falls the first time, and falls the second time. This echo across the literary ages also highlights the brutality of humans (the acts of violence of which we are capable), but also the longing for redemption which is as fundamentally human as violence. Yeong-hye ate the dog meat. And, years later, her body seeks redemption, a kind of spiritual transformation, to purge that act of violence from the place in which it is held and remembered: the body. The physicality of Han Kang’s writing is as directly confrontational as I could imagine, and she pairs this physicality with deep moral complexity and nuance, so we are left seeking the meaning of these images that we—like Yeong-hye herself—cannot expunge from our minds. 

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Woven Together: A Retelling of "Clever Anait"

Vatchagan

My wife is clever. I can always trust that. I’ve known that since the day we met.

In my youth, I often traveled my lands dressed as a huntsman. I met Anait on one of the warmest days of the year, when I’d wandered farther than usual from home. I begged her for a drink at the well, and she gave it to me--after she’d poured six jugs of water on the hard earth.

I was nearly mad with desperation before she finally let me drink, and after I quenched my thirst, I demanded to know why she’d taunted me so.

I’ll never forget her response. She told me that the cold water would have harmed me, hot as I was, so she made me wait to cool down before daring a drink. It was sensible advice, but what struck me most was the way she said it. The steel in her spine. The compassion in her voice. The clear intelligence in her gaze. This was a woman who missed nothing and understood everything, whose wisdom was used in service of others.

What could I do but make her my queen?

I’ve never had cause to regret it. She is clever. Wise. Kind. She is my right hand. Truly my better half. The throne is safe, so long as she guards it.

When we heard of disappearances in the south, Anait advised me to investigate. She could keep the kingdom safe while I traveled among my people. I trusted in her wisdom, as I always do, and left the palace disguised as a common tradesman. It would have been a good plan, were it not for my own foolishness.

In a city near the southern border, I trusted a man who promised me answers, and let him lead me into caves at the edge of town. There he beat me, robbed me, and took me captive. I became the prisoner of the very robbers who had been stealing away my subjects, falling into the very trap I had sought to destroy.

They are crafty, these slavers. They’ve created a living hell here in these caves, keeping their captives in darkness and fear. Those with trades, they put to work. Those without, they slaughter.

They don’t know I’m king, thank goodness. That identity would ruin me here. Here, I am a weaver, and I thank God for it every day. A weaver deserves to live, in their criminal eyes, and a weaver needs assistants. I claimed every man captured with me as part of my team.

I’ve built these slavers quite an enterprise. I learned my trade from the best, and my rugs can be sold for a fortune. Every new slave who arrives, I demand as another assistant, and our captors are happy to oblige me. They haven’t killed a man in weeks.

I have been patient, biding my time, as Anait taught me to do at the well. I have set my plan in motion, and when the time is right, I will get a message to her. From there, we are all as good as rescued.

I told you, my wife is very clever.

Anait

My husband is determined. I knew that from the beginning. Why else would he have traveled all the way to my village on such a hot day? Why else would he--who could have had his pick of princesses--choose a weaver’s daughter for a bride? Whether a course be wise or foolish, he will see it out to its very end, which is why he has so often achieved the impossible.

When he sent his emissaries to ask for my hand, I thought him mad. One meeting at a well, and he was willing to spend his entire life with me? This infatuation would fade as quickly as it had formed.

But whether he’s mad or no, a weaver’s daughter can’t refuse a king. So I set him a quest--the privilege of all women pursued. A task I thought impossible. I asked that foolish, flighty, pampered boy to learn a trade. If he tried at all, he would give up in two weeks, and I would be free of his attentions.

Imagine my surprise when he came to my door a year later, holding a brocade woven by his own hands. A gold and blue pattern that flowed and shimmered like water. It was well--but not expertly--made. I could just believe that a man who’d spent a year learning nothing but weaving could have managed it. But I could not believe it of the man before me. Surely he’d purchased this fabric. He could afford it. At his first proposal, he’d offered me dozens finer than this.

I tested him on my own loom, and to my surprise, he passed every challenge. He knew the terminology. The tools. He handled every piece of the loom with the thoughtless grace borne of long practice. He had studied. He had worked. And he had created. All for my sake.

I had turned a king into a weaver, so with great joy, I allowed him to turn a weaver into a queen.

It was an easier transition than I expected. I taught children in my village, and courtiers and subjects are all just children grown large. I can handle their troubles and intrigues, and I am glad to keep my husband’s throne for him in his absence. But my husband was not supposed to be absent this long.

Twenty days, he said. It has been nearly twenty weeks. Our advisers are starting to suggest I put the crown upon our son, become regent for a new king. They are fools, every one of them. They try to give me evidence and probabilities, while forgetting that their king has never been interested in achieving the probable. If it is impossible for my husband to return to me, my husband will do the impossible.

I told you, he is determined.

Vatchagan

I survive by imitating my wife. Her courage. Her cunning. Her clear-eyed wisdom. Every morning, I think of what Anait would do, and then I do it. Anait is a weaver, so I am a weaver. Anait is clever, so I try to be clever.

I am always alert, always watching. Always waiting for the right moment to act. I watch every movement my captors make. Little by little, with a light and skillful hand, I nudge every thread of my plan into its proper place.

The carpet I design is a masterpiece, making use of all my skill. Its craftsmanship is exquisite, for there are other weavers among the slaves who have have helped me teach the less experienced, and we have become an efficient team. Thread by thread, row by row, the carpet comes into being, and with it, our chances at escape.

Our captors never guess that I am anything but a master weaver, never see anything strange in their slaves’ willingness to create such treasures for them in this strange and desolate workshop. They never suspect that the border to the design I create has any hidden meaning. They only know that such tapestries can be sold for gold beyond measure. All I need to do is direct them toward the proper buyer.

A comment here. A whispered word there. Tiny threads that weave the pieces of my plan together. This carpet is fit for royalty, is it not? The queen is known for her love of tapestry. She, more than anyone, will know its quality. Did you know she was a weaver’s daughter? She would offer you ten times its weight in gold if only she could see it.

My words take effect. I can see it by the growing glint of greed in their eyes. I would almost hate to send these scoundrels toward my wife, if I did not know she could best them.

At last, the carpet is finished, every thread snipped and tied. My workers lay it out for me, eager to show me the finished piece. I run a hand over it, and just for a moment, I fail to be the conspiring king or the master weaver. I am only a man who aches for his wife.

I poured everything into this tapestry--my hopes and desperation, my fear and my love. Every memory of our past and hope for our future. It is a message to my wife in more ways than one, and I wish with all my heart I could be the one to bring it to her.

When our captors take it from us, it feels like a sacrilege. How dare they lay their unclean hands upon a carpet for the greatest queen who ever lived?

I have no other choice. I let them take it away. When it disappears into the depths of the cave, my hope and dread rise in equal measure. I have done what I can. I can only pray the message reaches Anait in time.

Anait

I survive by imitating my husband. His patience. His compassion. His indefatigable resolve. I think of what Vatchagan would do, and then I do it. I am acting in his name, and I am determined to rule his kingdom as well and wisely as he would.

It grows more difficult, as time goes on. I am tired, worn threadbare by the never-relenting pressure of the kingdom’s concerns. I have been Vatchagan’s right hand for years, but it is infinitely harder to have the whole weight of the crown upon my head alone.

When I hear that a rug merchant has arrived at the end of a long day, I am tempted to throw him out, but Vatchagan would have sympathized with a man who had been waiting in the heat, and I admit I am desperate for a break in the normal routine. Though our palace needs no more rugs, I remain in the throne room and allow the merchant to bring his goods before me.

I decide against buying anything the moment the merchant walks in the room. He looks respectable enough--burly, but well-groomed--but there is a greedy glint in his eye that I don’t like, and the fabric he wears is poorly made. No man with access to good fabric would wear such dross, so I have little hope for the rugs he brings.

But I am surprised as his assistants unroll the carpets. These are exquisite. Intricate designs, bold colors. They remind me of my husband’s work, so I rise from the throne, spellbound. I know am betraying too much interest, but after these months of worry and loneliness, I yearn for anything that reminds me of Vatchagan.

The merchant gives a smug half-smile. “Your majesty is an admirer of our goods. I have been told our queen has an eye for good weaving.”

“Where did you get these?” I ask. I wonder if they were woven by one of my husband’s teachers.

“From the finest masters in Egypt,” he says. “Their work adorns every palace of the East.”

That’s a lie so blatant I don’t honor it with a reply. The colors and materials have a local origin, I am sure of it. There is something more going on. I continue to act the spellbound queen, but my eyes are sharp and my mind is alert, watching for the evidence that will support my intuition.

The assistants lift a rolled-up rug that’s twice as large as the others. The excitement in their master’s stance tells me that this is the prize he hopes to snare me with.

“Now this,” he says, “is a rug truly fit for a queen. A tapestry beyond compare.”

They unroll the rug, and I stop breathing. This is more than a rug for a queen. It is a rug for me. The tapestry shows the moment I met my husband. His hunting clothes. My green summer dress. His brown hair and my blonde. The jug. The well. Every building in the village square. A border in the colors of the brocade he wove to win my hand in marriage.

The border is more than a brocade--it’s a message, written in the code we devised for our private correspondence in a palace full of spies. A language known to none but ourselves.

Anait, it reads, the men who bring this to you have enslaved me and hundreds of men.

Vatchagan describes a criminal enterprise that horrifies me with its scope and cruelty. He tells me his location, describes the caves where he is being held, warns of the iron doors that trap the prisoners. He informs me of their numbers and defenses. All in an arrangement of thread that looks like meaningless decoration.

Though I am disgusted, enraged, horrified by the crimes of the men before me, I cannot hold back the smile that curves my lips. My husband is clever, and these slavers are doomed.

With a word from me, the slavers are thrown in the dungeons. A few words more, and I have gathered an army, weapons, horses, and supplies for a rescue mission. With the first light of dawn, we set out, following the path laid out by my husband’s desperately woven words. I only pray I can reach him in time.

Vatchagan

The news travels among the workers. Something is happening outside our prison. I know Anait has arrived, but I don’t allow myself to fully believe until I see our captors panicking. They race through the caves with wild eyes and sharp swords. I worry for a moment that they will slaughter us all before we can be found, but they don’t seem to see us, or to care. They have directed all their attention to the enemy at their gates.

I long to pick up a sword and do my part, but I have no weapons, and these months of captivity have sapped my strength. I do what I can to help my men. I lead my fellow slaves toward safer areas, further into the depths of the caves. Some of the workers panic, seeing our captors reinforce the great iron doors behind us, but I know what they don’t. My wife is determined, and these slavers are doomed.

Our captors have strong doors and sharp weapons, but my wife has chisels and hundreds of hands. Before long, the army bursts through the stone wall. Anait’s own horse tramples the cruelest of the men. I keep my fellow slaves hidden while my wife’s army does its work.

At long, long last, the fighting is over. Anait’s soldiers lead me and my fellow workers through a sea of broken bodies, past our captors now turned into prisoners, until we emerge, blinking, into the sun.

My wife is radiant on her white charger, her armor glittering, her eyes alight with righteous fury.

“Have you found him?” she demands of her general.

I step ahead of the crowd and fall to my knees before her. “My queen.”

The worry in my wife’s face turns to joy. She dismounts and offers a hand to help me stand. A smile dances on the corners of her mouth. “Rise, King Vatchagan, and return to your rightful place.”

I stand, my weak limbs relying on her strength. She enfolds me in her arms, and I wrap her in mine, and there we rest, in our rightful place once more.

Anait

The news travels among the prisoners. I see eyes widen, jaws drop, and I cannot keep from grinning. My husband has hidden his identity well, it seems. I can understand their astonishment. I was equally surprised the day I learned he was a weaver.

I gesture toward the crowd. “Will you introduce us, Vatchagan?”

We step toward the rescued men, and an elderly man falls at my feet. He takes my hand and kisses it with desperate fervor. “My queen,” he says. “You have saved us this day.”

Vatchagan smiles at that. (Oh, how I’ve missed his smile!) “You are mistaken,” he says, with gentle humor. “My wife saved us years ago.”

The old man blinks, confused. “How so, ma--” He tries to call Vatchagan “majesty” and “master weaver” at once, and fails at both.

Vatchagan seizes my free hand in both of his and kisses the fingertips. “The queen saved us—my clever Anait—when she asked her king to learn a trade.”

I bend my head to kiss his swollen knuckles. “It takes an uncommonly determined king to learn it.”

Vatchagan grins and surprises me with his strength when he throws his arms around me. He pulls me close and kisses me in front of the assembled crowds. I return the kiss without shame.

If these weeks have taught me anything, it is that we cannot be separated. Like opposing threads, we have been woven together by a master hand. While remaining ourselves, we have changed each other, creating something stronger and more beautiful than either of us could be alone.

The queen and her husband.

The weaver and his wife.

Two become one, to last through the ages.

[lacheri]

when you can’t sleep at night // wake me (sequel)

pairing: captain!Levi x cadet!fem bodied reader

content: angst, canonverse, mentions and talks of death/portrayals of death, depictions of violence, blood, overall dark themes, unestablished relationship, fingering, mutual loss of virginities, overstimulation, takes place sometime before the 57th expedition (didn't follow an exact timeline), there is a lot of talks about dying in this, levi asks a lot of intrusive questions, minors DNI.

summary: levi finds he holds an affection to a certain cadet of his. you find that maybe the comfort of your captain can quiet the thoughts plaguing your mind, even if just for one night.

wc: 10.7k

The clouds were so fluffy, so white and pure as you longingly watched them swirl above you. Your entire body was numb, back flat against the dirt with all your limbs stretched out. Your brain felt fuzzy, and for a fleeting moment you were flying in the clouds. You could feel the water vapor skim past your fingertips, the air whooshing against you as you soared. You looked down at the earth beneath your form, all the trees and even the walls looked so tiny from this height. This peaceful daydream was pulled from you with a start, your chest heaving with coughs.

“I’m so sorry!” you heard a voice call out, your line of vision intruded by the hazy form of a person leering over you. “I didn’t mean to hit you like that!”

“‘S okay,” you choked out, the numbness fading into aches all over your body. “I’ve gotten you good a couple of times too, Eren.”

“You know what, on second thought,” Eren’s lips spread into a smirk as he extended a hand down. “Consider this payback for beating my ass all those times in the Training Corps.”

“Good on you for finally landing a hit,” you chuckled, wincing as he hauled you to your feet. “Only took you three years.”

You rocked on your ankles, steadying yourself quickly before your legs gave out on you. Eren had gotten you good, roundhouse kicking you in your chest to lay you out on your ass. His training sessions had begun to pay off, used to the reverse happening when the two of you sparred. Mikasa would look on intently, a small smile on her lips when you’d punch Eren’s smug face with a sharp hook. You and 104th cadets were a friendly, strong group, bonded over the horrors of the titans, especially after what happened in Trost.

“What are you brats doing out here?”

Your heads whipped in the direction of the strong voice, meeting the steely hard set eyes of Levi, your captain and soon to be squad leader. His arms were crossed, and you gulped upon taking notice of how his biceps strained under the grey linen of his button up. You quickly flickered your focus back to his eyes before he caught you eyeing him up.

“Just sparring,” Eren hadn’t released the grip on your hand, nor had he noticed he was still holding onto your palm as he addressed the superior. “Prepping for the mission tomorrow.”

Levi frowned, “And who told you it was okay to do so when I gave you cadets instruction to clean the headquarters from top to bottom?”

You pulled your hand from Eren’s as you responded, “Sorry, Captain Levi. We’ll get on it right away.”

Levi only let out a displeased ‘tch’ as he turned on his heels, walking away without further commentary. Eren shot you an eye roll, and you held back a snicker as the pair of you followed shortly after the ravenette. Maybe the two of you had snuck away to leave the rest of your comrades to attack the former Survey Corps headquarters with dusters and cleaning rags, not wanting to participate in your weekly assigned duties. Eren had been adamant in the cobwebbed hallway on the second floor that he had to practice his hand to hand combat, just in case your squads ran into some problems on tomorrow’s mission. You had eagerly agreed, wanting to be as far away from the unsettled dust that assaulted your nostrils, itching at your allergies.

As the three of you entered the building, Levi abruptly turned to the two of you trailing behind him, you and Eren jumping in fright, “Eren, go to the dining hall, you’re going to wipe down underneath all the tables. As for you, brat, you get the honor of cleaning my room.”

Eren shot you a sympathetic look discreetly, nodding to your captain as he hightailed it to the hall.

You swallowed a lump in your throat, alone now with the captain. He studied you for a brief moment, gesturing with his head for you to follow him. Your feet moved before your mind could will you, and the soft thuds of your footsteps across the wooden planks of the floor was all that was heard. You snuck glances at the man before you, taking notice that his undercut was slightly grown in, his longer hair uncharacteristically out of place. Levi looked disheveled in a way, his tan leather jacket creased.

You opened your mouth to make a comment, but decided against it in the end. You were going to offer your assistance, to help freshen up his fade and to do his laundry, but figured Levi was a grown man who could take care of himself. You had a soft spot for the man, humanity’s strongest soldier. You knew a title like that came with a weight you could not fathom, especially after the horrors you had seen at Trost when the titans broke through the walls. You could remember everything so clearly, almost as if it was happening right now. You had nearly died that day.

Your older age amongst your fellow cadets was not one of gain you found out. After learning about the tragedy of Wall Maria, the wall closest to your village, it inspired you to join the Survey Corps in order to help the world. Humanity was dying, almost completely obliterated. Distant family members had died in Shiganshina that day, and the reality of the titans weighed heavily on you. How could you sit idly by as the world you knew was being destroyed before your very eyes? What would’ve happened had that attack been on your small village instead of the Shiganshina district? How would you have protected your own?

So with those thoughts in mind, you joined the training corps. Your parents had disagreed with broken hearts, knowing the likely fate of your choices. Your mother had insisted that you were of ripe marrying age, and that they had no other children to carry your family name. They begged and pleaded for you to settle down and find a husband, to help humanity in a different way by bearing children. You knew this was just a fantasy, and you knew it would be entirely possible that if you were to follow their wishes, the family you would create would be devoured and destroyed. This was the only way you could help, no matter your age or being in your reproductive prime. You needed to slaughter the titans, one by one until none remained. You kissed your beloved family goodbye the day you left for training, and you frequently sent them letters to let them know you were well and alive. One day, they all were returned back to you as you sat in the barracks, and one of the captains informed you that your village was destroyed, your parents and friends from home all dead.

You thought of them as you sliced through a five meter titan’s nape in Trost, your first kill. The citizens of the district ran stampeding in retreat, and caught up in the heat of it all, you had failed to account for the seven meter barreling behind you. When it’s burning fingers wrapped around your body, you sobbed, preparing to meet your family in the afterlife, whatever that would look like. You could feel the hot spats of drool hit your cheeks as the titan opened its mouth, bearing teeth and a cruel grin, and then suddenly, you were flying, caught in the arms of a savior. You stared in disbelief at the cut off fingers on the graveled stone of the street, to only be brought out of this state as Mikasa held you close and questioned if you were alright.

After the dust settled and the casualties were counted, you could feel a fire blazing deep within you. You never wanted to be vulnerable like that ever again, you wanted to be strong like Mikasa. Then, you met Captain Levi. You didn’t know much about him, but his reputation spoke volumes. You wanted the strength of the Ackermans whom you so deeply admired. You begged Commander Erwin to be assigned to Levi’s squad, and your wish was granted. You had been in the top rankings of your class, and you had a solo kill under your belt, aside from the near fatal clutch of another titan. Most of all, you had survived, a bigger feat than most of your comrades.

“Oi, you done daydreaming?” Levi’s cool voice brought you out of your train of thoughts as you arrived outside a wooden door, presumably his temporary living space.

“Sorry, just thinking,” you mumbled as he opened the door.

“Didn’t think you were capable of that. All the supplies are in the box on my desk, I want this room spotless, I don’t care how long it takes,” your captain grumbled as he made strides to his desk in the center of the room.

The room was fairly large, a double bed pressed against the left wall and the dark wooden desk was littered in paperwork. Half filled bookshelves lined the right wall, some mismatched couches and chairs filled the empty space. Honestly, the space was nearly perfect, even the bed was made. You knew better than to point this out to your superior though, so you had simply nodded and began to sort through the various cleaning supplies.

The scratch of Levi’s pen filled the hour long silence as you worked, dusting every surface and wiping it down with disinfectant spray and an old rag. After sweeping thoroughly, you flickered your eyes to the single window in the entire room, surprised completely as the sun had nearly set. The two of you were probably going to miss dinner, you realized as Levi poked his head up from the pile of papers he was concentrated on, a clear look of distaste on his features.

“This is what you call clean?” he spat, running a hand through his bangs. “Mop the floors, cadet.”

You sighed, feeling the subtle growl of hunger in the pit of your stomach. The mop laid in the left corner by the bedroom door, where you had found the broom. You swapped the two, picking up a bucket on the floor. You filled the wooden container with disinfectant, not seeing any polish in the box Levi had provided. He only rolled his eyes at seeing this, but said nothing. At least the floor would be clean.

Levi had lit a few lamps around the room to provide lighting as the sun dipped lower in the sky, swallowing the room in darkness. The floor was sparkling as you finished the last spot, a feeling of satisfaction filling your chest.

“Better?” you interrupted his concentration. He gazed around the room silently, face blank.

“Much,” Levi finally spoke. “That’ll be all, cadet.”

You smiled, setting the cleaning supplies back to their original locations, “Do you want me to bring you anything? I’m going down to grab dinner.”

Levi’s eyes widened at the question, not expecting your offer, “Some tea would be fine. Don’t fuck it up either, brat.”

You nodded as he dismissed you, and you treaded down the stairwell from the second floor to the kitchens. Some of the other cadets littered the dining hall as you passed, seeing some of your comrades laughing at a table, but you paid them no mind. In the kitchen there was hardly any leftover food from the dinner, scraps of potatoes sat in a large bowl on one of the counterspaces. You sighed, scarfing down whatever was available while you set a rusted kettle to a flame. The water was boiled within minutes, and you poured it over tea leaves in two teacups. You cleaned up your mess, and made your way back to Levi’s room.

You knocked twice on the door, hearing his grunt to signal you to enter. Levi was still positioned in his chair at his desk, head in his hands as he scanned over his documents. You placed his cup down silently, ready to leave the man to his work.

“Why are you here, cadet?” your captain called out as you went to open the door.

You turned your head to look at him, his eyes never leaving the words of his papers, “What do you mean, captain?”

“The Survey Corps,” he clarified, finally making eye contact. “Why?”

“To save humanity, sir?” you didn’t mean to speak as if you were questioning him, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

He scoffed, setting his paperwork aside, “Humanity, huh? You’re a bit too old to be in the graduating class you’re currently in. Why join now?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m confused,” your body was facing his entirely now. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense,” he more so mumbled to himself. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be pregnant with your first born, with a husband. Instead, you’re here, trying to fight titans.”

“With all due respect, Captain,” your voice was laced with controlled anger. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Aren’t you scared?” Levi continued, ignoring your question. “You could’ve picked the easy way.”

“It would’ve been in vain. My village was wiped out shortly after Wall Maria fell.”

He hummed, his hands coming down to rest on the wooden notches of his desk, papers forgotten, “You were in the top ranks. You could’ve joined the military police.”

“And hear how my comrades died instead of helping them?” you gawked.

“It’s a lot better than watching.”

You shut your mouth then, lips pressing tightly together. You didn’t understand why your captain was questioning you like this.

“I see the way you are with them,” his tone softened, not looking you in the eyes as he spoke. “How you all are.”

“Just because I’m friendly doesn’t mean I’ll forget the purpose of the scouts,” you said defensively, crossing your arms. “I have my own ass to account for.”

Levi pushed off his chair suddenly, scraping the just mopped floor and jolting up to his legs, “You have no idea what it’s like out there. Your friends are going to die, cadet. There’ll be nothing you can do to save them. Are you prepared for that? Collecting their bodies, or whatever’s left of them to take home to their families?”

Your mouth went dry, jaw slacking, “Captain, I know what loss feels like. My family is dead, some of my so called ‘friends’ died in Trost. I know what I signed up for.”

He scoffed, circling around his desk to stand a few feet away from you, “Haven’t you seen enough?”

“Are you trying to get me to quit the Survey Corps?” you asked incredulously.

“Yes. You don’t belong here,” his tone was rough as he spat at you. “Go find a husband. Get the fuck out of the military.”

“I don’t want to,” your anger simmered as you stared down at your boots. “I don’t have a home to go back to. I can’t leave. I know the other cadets aren’t my friends. I’m just trying to make the best out of my life before I die. I know I’m going to die. What’s so wrong about trying to find comfort in others?”

“You are a fool,” he seethed, teeth clenched. “You want to die?”

You shook your head, not bothering to keep the conversation going, “I’m going to bed, Captain. I’ll see you tomorrow for the mission.”

“I didn’t dismiss you, cadet,” Levi towered over you now as your hand wrapped around the doorknob.

You brought your fist up to your chest in a salute as you began to exit, “With absolutely no disrespect, I’m exhausted. Have a good night, Captain.”

You pushed the door shut in front of you as you stood in the hallway. You knew you would be getting an ear full from Levi in the morning, but honestly, the conversation was beginning to stir up feelings you’d rather not address. Intrusive thoughts filled your mind as you made your way to the first floor where your temporary bedroom resided.

You couldn’t answer Levi’s question because in a way, in a very selfish train of thought, you didn’t want to be a part of the titan’s world anymore, whether that meant death or something else. How easy it would be for you to greedily pack your things and leave the military and take refuge in some random village to live out the rest of your days, however long they would be. Or to just simply become fodder for the titans in your quest to rid the world of their reign.

Your uniform was folded on your bedside table, a cotton shirt and shorts on your body as you sat on your bed over the covers. You could hear the soft snores of Christa as she slumbered peacefully in the bed across the room, and you gazed over her body under her covers. You knew the people you trained with, fought with, grew fond of, were not your friends. How could they be? It’d only make things harder in the end. Like Levi had said, you might be the one collecting their deceased bodies after a battle. How could you ever grow close to someone that you knew their days were numbered?

The 104th cadets were your comrades, not your makeshift family. You had to remind yourself of that every time Sasha would ask for your leftovers, batting her big eyes at you. When Eren would spar with you, telling you how strong you were and commending you on how far you had come since the first day of the Training Corps. How Mikasa literally saved your life, and how you had admired her ever since. Armin’s unmatched potential and growth. Jean’s relentless taunting, giving you the nickname of gram because of your age. Connie, well frankly, just being Connie. Reiner and Bertholdt’s strong will and passion. Annie’s unwavering willpower and prowess. All the other cadets who you’d gotten to know so well, you had to constantly imagine their corpses as they smiled at you and tried to get to know you. So, you stayed back, opting to be alone at any opportunity, so their deaths would be easier to swallow when the time came.

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head to try and rid yourself of your thoughts. It was of no use, and with a sigh you pushed yourself out of your bed. You deemed it would be yet again another sleepless night, and you realized sadly you had left your tea cup in Levi’s office completely untouched. You didn’t bother to entertain the thought of going back to retrieve it, instead you slinked through your bedroom door and out of the headquarters.

The night air was chilly, and you felt regret for not grabbing your jacket on your way out. The moon was gone, a completely black night, and you could see the stars crystal clear. The sky was your favorite sight, especially on nights like this.

You found a nice patch of soft grass, and laid on your back to gaze up at the sky. This was always your comfort, even as a child, to go outside and watch the sky, day or night. Your mother would warn you that your eyes would fall out of your head if you stared too long at the sun, at the moon. You didn’t care, because in those moments you felt so free. Free of the walls that caged you inside, of the world around you. You were the clouds, the stars, the wind as it rolled past. Maybe you were never meant to be human, you mused. You were meant to be nature, never to experience the trials and tribulations of sentinel living. You were supposed to be free, all knowing and ignorant at the same time, existing without the weight of consciousness.

“Thought you were going to bed, cadet?”

You were startled by the boom of a familiar voice behind you, collecting yourself and clearing your throat, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Levi’s head bobbed into your field of vision, “Thought too hard today?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling guilty as you caught the action afterwards and hoped your captain wouldn’t find it as a disrespect, “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Why are you out here of all places, without a jacket?” out of the corner of your eye you watched as Levi brought himself down to sit next to you.

“I like watching the sky,” you put simply, trying not to make eye contact. “Makes me feel better.”

“About dying?” he said, and you knew that he wouldn’t let your previous conversation go. You decided to humor him, if only to get these thoughts out of your mind.

“Yes.”

“Like what?” he almost sounded uninterested, but from his line of questioning you knew he was anything but.

“I don’t want to die,” you admitted, digging your fingernails into the grass by your waist. “I don’t want to watch anyone die. I never wanted to join the military. I felt like I had no choice.”

“We always have a choice,” he leaned his back to see whatever had your attention draw above you.

“Either fight the titans or get eaten alive when they attack the walls?” you snorted. “What a hard decision to make.”

“Why’d you join the Survey Corps?” he asked once again.

“I didn’t want my family’s death to be in vain. I had cousins, aunts and uncles in Shiganshina.”

“What about your death?”

“I hope it’ll mean something,” you breathed, feeling your chest get tight. “I hope this all will mean something.”

Levi looked at you then, a glimmer of something you couldn’t identify in his eyes, “You sound like Erwin when you talk like that.”

You made eye contact, a small smile on your lips, “The Commander’s an amazing man. I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Levi scoffed, “Take it as you will.”

“What else could I do? I’m trying so hard to make a difference, to make life easier for others so they don’t have to suffer this fate. Isn’t that why we all joined the Survey Corps?” you continued your train of thought. “Maybe we all have a death wish. Fuck, I know I have one. It all just fucking hurts, Captain. I can’t help but think of others all the time, of all the loss and the grief they've gone through, what I’ve been through. At what will keep happening until all the titans are gone for good.”

“Why the sky?” he changed the subject, seemingly bored of your repetitive narrative.

“Because there’s no titans up there,” you joked without humor. “There’s no walls, no boundaries, no rules. It’s never ending. Where are the stars? How does day and night occur? Where does the moon go when the sun’s out? It amazes me, that’s all. Makes me think of how big the world is, of what’s out there besides this.”

“You think too much for a brainless brat,” Levi grumbled, laying on his back and joining you.

“I know,” you chuckled, turning your body to face him. “Wish I could turn off all my thoughts, it would probably make life a whole lot more livable.”

He hummed, eyes drawn in to your face, “I understand. What you said earlier, too, about finding comfort in others.”

“What do you mean?” you propped your head on your hand and you positioned your elbow to support you.

“I guess I never thought about it before tonight,” he blinked, expression unreadable. “Life as a soldier isn’t a comforting one. I guess that’s what I was trying to tell you about.”

You read between the lines of his words, recognizing it as his form of an apology, “I know. But it’s still the life I chose. At least I’m trying to make a difference, we all are.”

“Y’know, I’ve been paying attention to you for some time now. I didn’t understand when Erwin came to me and told me you had asked to be put on my squad. I took a look in your file, and I saw you after the attack on Trost, and I still didn’t understand,” Levi spoke slowly. “I don’t think I get you at all, even now.”

“I don’t think I understand myself,” you laughed dryly, returning your attention to the sky.

“You should get some sleep, cadet,” he advised softly, pushing himself off the ground. “And for fuck’s sake do it soon, I won’t be taking care of your ass if you get a cold.”

Levi stalked off before you could utter a response. You sighed, and decided his words were wise enough to follow. A few moments after your captain had left you, you followed his pathway back to the entrance of the former headquarters. You entered, making a hasty retreat back to your room where Christa was still knocked out cold.

Under your covers, you replayed your conversations with Levi. You still couldn’t figure out why he had questioned you like he had, why he even cared in the first place. Maybe it was his own gnawing curiosity, trying to understand why some random twenty-something year old girl insisted on being in his squad like you had. Maybe, you thought egotistically, you had your own reputation. You inwardly snorted, probably not.

Images of your captain under the moonlight played beneath your eyelids as you finally managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

The mission had gone horribly wrong. At least for you, to be honest you had no idea where the rest of your comrades were as you raced on your horse, desperately searching the sky for flares. You hadn’t seen a single one in a while now, at least ten minutes, and your heart was thudding hard as thoughts that the entire fleet of soldiers you had joined had been decimated. You were completely alone, the walls distant behind you. All you knew is that you couldn’t stop, couldn’t turn around or else you’d really be lost.

The 104th had stayed behind at the former headquarters, this having been a smaller expedition to clear out some titans before the planned 57th expedition in a few weeks. Levi, Oluo, Petra, and Gunther, as well as a few other squads accompanying you, were in a near perfect formation when an abnormal titan had broken through, killing a few unnamed soldiers at your side that you had never met before today.

In the far left distance, you could see a large forest full of trees. Your jaw slacked open, relief running through your veins when you caught sight of some men on horses heading that direction. Green flares shot up high in the sky, and you pulled the reins of your mare to follow. Your plan was brought to a screeching halt though, as you heard the thunderous footsteps shake your horse, and your body. You threw a glance behind your shoulder, a ten meter titan running straight towards you. You reached to your side quickly, shooting a red flare above you to warn any close by comrades.

The titan was gaining speed, about a dozen yards now behind you. You really wanted to avoid confrontation was much as possible, but as those yards closed between you and the titan, you growled and prepared yourself. You gave your horse a soft pat on her neck, and heaved yourself to stand on the saddle. You gaged your surroundings, seeing complete flat plains all around you, not an ideal situation for fighting at all.

Your odm gear shot you straight to the titan’s legs, a plan instilled in your head on the best way to take it down. It was fairly thin and muscular, but you decided it was just a plain titan as it dumbly stared at you with its wicked grin. Your dual blades locked in your hands now, you swung behind the titan and sliced through its ankles. The ten meter fell swiftly, giving you the perfect opportunity to land on its nape and kill it. It stilled completely beneath you after your swift cuts, and you ran as fast as your body willed you to rejoin your mare.

You placed your fingers to your lips, whistling as loud as you could. Your horse, at least 100 feet away, perked its ears and turned at a rapid speed straight back to you. She neighed as she reached your form, and you hauled yourself back on her saddle, kicking your legs for her to break into a full gallop to where the green flares still lingered in the air.

You didn’t bother to signal another flare in the air, seeing no other flares around you. As you neared closer to the forest, you felt incredibly relieved at the sight of your squad, now able to make out their faces. Petra waved her hands high in the air, about 20 feet away now. You saw Oluo, Gunther, and Levi, unharmed, as you got closer, bringing your horse down to a slightly slower gait, seeing no titans around.

“Are you okay?” Petra shouted at you once you reached the group. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay!” you spoke as fast as you could. “The other cadets I was with were killed by an abnormal, I got split up from them.”

“What was that red flare?” Oluo questioned, worry riddled in his eyes.

“It’s fine, I killed it,” you breathed shakily. “Where are the others?”

“Retreating back to the walls,” Levi answered, voice hard and commanding. “We’re out of blades, and there've been too many casualties. The others have the deceased’s bodies.”

You and your squad nodded, and with no further delay, you broke your horses into a full sprint back to the walls. The sun hung low in the sky, sunset merely a few hours away. Now in a formation in the clear open plains, you noticed out of the corner of your eye some movement.

“Abnormal titan to the right!” you screamed, turning your head to watch the titan’s arms flail, running in an irregular pattern.

“Holy fuck,” Gunther’s eyes widened in horror, shooting a black flare into the sky. “That’s got to be a 15 meter!”

“Don’t engage!” Levi barked, eyes trained straight ahead at the walls. “Keep an eye on it!”

“Sir!” the four of you quipped.

It seemed the abnormal titan had other plans as it caught sight of the five of you, its pace changing with intentions.

“It’s heading straight towards us!” Petra called out, flickering her eyes between the running titan and your captain. “Orders, Captain?”

Levi kept silent, much to your horrors. It was only a few yards away now, speed not slowing. Levi’s attention was completely ahead, the walls almost in full view. You were so close, not close enough though and the abnormal titan’s legs moved faster.

“Captain Levi!” Oluo shouted, eyebrows shot into his hairline.

The titan was less than three yards away when Levi finally spoke, “Petra, Oluo, make it fast!”

You shot off your horse before Levi’s lips opened, his commands unheard by you. Your odm ropes attached right into the titan’s ankles, just like how you had done before. There’s a reason they called it an abnormal titan though you discovered as its fingers closed around the wiring of your gear, yanking the ropes out of its skin and hauling your body up.

You squirmed, mashing your buttons desperately to get your hooks out of its fist as you were brought to the titan’s mouth. It was an ugly son of a bitch, teeth on full display in its evil smile. You couldn’t believe how badly you had fucked up again, the titan’s other hand gaining momentum as it lifted to wrap its disgusting meaty fingers around you. You watched as the fingers were sliced off before they could reach you, and suddenly you were free falling as the hand holding your odm ropes fell from its arm. You redirected yourself back to its ankles, back to your original plan of taking out the nerves to allow the titan to fall, your nerves entirely shot, your adrenaline in full control.

Levi had both his swords drawn as he met you at the back of the 15 meter’s legs, “Are you trying to get yourself fucking killed? You should’ve let the others handle it!”

“I thought I had it, Captain!” you curtly shouted, cutting through the tendons and getting sprayed with steaming blood. The titan did not falter though, but thankfully you and Levi had created a useful diversion as Petra, and Oluo took out the titan’s nape. You and your group shot back to your horses as the titan fell from its height, dead on impact.

The opening of the gate of Wall Rose was a fucking blessing, and your squad couldn’t have ran through it any faster. You heard the roaring of the gate as it closed behind you, and you were choking on shallow breaths as you slowed your mare’s gait.

None of you spoke a single word as you returned to the former headquarters, exhausted after the adrenaline of your mission wore off. You returned your horses to the stables, where feed and water awaited them. Your squad practically ran off, and you were confused until you saw the pissed off look of your superior aimed directly at you. Gulping down spit, you turned on your heel, ready to take off.

Levi’s arm shot out around your bicep, harshly tugging you to stop your escape, “Are you a fucking idiot, cadet? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I thought I could take out the titan by its ankles!” you defended quickly, gritting your teeth as his fingers dug into your clothed arm. “It’s how I took out the other titan I killed, Captain!”

“You better learn quickly that all titans are not the same! Or did you not learn that in training?” Levi growled out between clenched teeth.

“I thought I could take it out,” you grumbled, ripping your arm out of his grip.

“You betrayed my orders. You listen to me and my commands, cadet,” he spat out, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes burning holes into yours. “Remember your place.”

You pivoted yourself away from your captain, trotting ahead to head inside the headquarters, voice laced with malice as you grumbled, “I’ll do as I see fit.”

This would be the second time Levi hadn’t dismissed you before leaving him behind, you realized as you arrived at the communal bathroom. You sighed heavily, leaning back against the closed door, completely alone. Thankfully, it was very late in the evening, and if your comrades weren’t in bed already, they would be heading to sleep soon. You were so relieved to get some much needed alone time, especially now that you had such a terrible day.

You changed out of your blood soaked uniform, not bothering to fold it as you laid the clothes on the floor. Stark naked, you began to fill the bathtub basin with running water, a very rare luxury due to the previous care when the headquarters was up and running. With the porcelain half filled, the water steaming, you sunk your aching body into the scalding bath. The water turned a deep pink as you scrubbed your skin with a rag that had been resting over the rim. You untied your hair and dipped your head back, threading your fingers through your knots after generously coating the strands with soap. You drained the dirty water, refilling it back up now that most of the dirt and blood had been washed away. The tub held a pastel pink hue now, but you felt much cleaner and you sunk back in the tub, stretching out as much as you could.

You didn’t dare close your eyes for too long, picturing the events of today. You didn’t try to reflect on the lives that had been lost on today’s mission, the strangers you never had the pleasure, or perhaps displeasure, of getting to know. It made it easier in a sense to forget, to keep pushing forward. Still, the gore and the cruelty of what being a part of the scouts was truly about haunted the corners of your mind as you absentmindedly rubbed soap along your limbs. Maybe you were trying to wash away these memories, too.

Half an hour later, you decided it was time to dry off and get into comfortable clothing as the water cooled and your skin had pruned. You unplugged the drain, standing and reaching for a towel. Wrapping the fabric around your chest, you stepped out of the tub, feet leaving wet prints on the floor as you treaded to your bedroom, soiled clothes in hand.

An oversized white long sleeve hung off your frame, accompanied by your favorite cotton shorts as you sat on your bed, completely alone. Christa had briefly mentioned before your mission this morning that she’d be spending the night with Ymir, to which you were inwardly grateful for the promise of solidarity. As you sat hunched over, you found yourself longing for the comforting presence of someone, anyone, to distract you from the images that plagued your mind, no matter how hard you tried to push them away.

You jerked with a start as you pictured the angry face of your captain, feeling immense guilt pool in your gut. You had never spoken so much with Levi before yesterday, realizing the weight of your words and actions, reckless and undermining his authority. Maybe you owed him an apology, for if nothing else to at least calm your mind enough for sleep.

You didn’t remember the walk when you had arrived outside the captain’s door, or could recall if you had knocked before it swung open, revealing Levi’s surprised expression.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, nervously tugging at your sleeves as you avoided eye contact. “I’ve been disrespectful, Captain, and I’m sorry.”

“Cadet,” his teeth clenched tightly. “Do you understand what time it is?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whimpered, legs ready for a moment's notice of a retreat. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave—“

Levi’s hand shot out to circle your wrist, and you finally looked up into his charcoal eyes, “Don’t, come in.”

You couldn’t protest as you guided you into his room, shutting the door behind you after you passed the entry. Levi was dressed casually, beige cotton shirt hanging off his torso, plain grey pants on his lower half. The bags under his eyes told you he had also not been able to fall asleep. He led you to sit on his neatly made bed, towering over you with his arms tightly crossed.

“I was on my way to check on you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What?”

“You didn’t knock,” Levi clarified, looking anywhere but at you. “I was already at the door. You’d seen a lot today. I don’t need my soldiers having breakdowns after every mission.”

He was worried about you, your breath halted in your throat.

“Oh,” you dumbly said.

“Seems like you did me a favor by coming here,” he mused, sighing as he ran a hand through his bangs. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“Thinking, again, about everything,” you crossed your thighs, body language signally how uncomfortable you were upon talking about these feelings.

“Your brain is going to cause you more grief if you don’t stop,” Levi’s spare hand grasped your chin gently, bringing your head up so you could look him in the eyes. “Why do you insist on being alone with these thoughts?”

“Captain, weren’t you just saying it’s a bad idea to have friends?” you could feel the pounding of your heart in your chest at his gesture, unsure of his intentions.

“Weren't you just talking about finding comfort in others?” Levi leaned down, you felt his breath against your lips as he spoke. “I’ve been paying attention to you for awhile, cadet.”

“You looked in my file, you told me already,” you whispered, unsure that if you spoke at full volume your voice wouldn’t quiver.

“No, I’ve been watching you. You’re not exactly quiet when you sneak out at night, y’know. I’ve seen you,” he hesitated briefly before continuing. “I’ve watched you cry all alone, how you try to distance yourself from the others. I was testing you yesterday, brat. I think I understand now, though.”

Your captain crouched down to meet you at eye level, fingertips never straying from your chin, and you felt your lip quiver as he rasped, “I understand, because I get it. You’ve always felt alone, haven't you?”

You nodded, scared to voice the truth, he continued, “I’m not going to explain myself to you, and if I hear a single word spoken about any of our conversations, I will personally sign your extermination paperwork. You’re different, you’re not like the others. You know what grief is, what pain and loss feels like. Your mission, your goals, it keeps driving you forward. Who couldn’t notice that?”

Levi scoffed, and you managed out a tiny, “Captain Levi.”

“Yes?”

“Why are you telling me this?” you could feel the harsh prick of tears try to escape your eyes, blinking furiously to not allow them to fall.

“Because,” he brushed back your hair behind your ear with his spare hand. “We’re exactly the same, and I can’t allow you to continue living like this, knowing where you’ll end up. Are you a virgin, cadet?”

“Yes,” you stuttered, thoroughly embarrassed.

“I am too,” Levi confessed, his eyes baring his soul. “I’m in my thirties, and I’ve never taken a woman to bed. All because of my mission.”

“My parents raised me to save myself for marriage,” your lips hung open. “But, they’re dead now, and I’ll probably never be married.”

“Cadet?” Levi’s hand came up from your chin to rest his palm against your cheek. “You talk about choices, you told me about how you never followed the path set for you. Why don’t you allow yourself some peace, some comfort? If not for yourself, for others, for your fellow comrades?”

“Are you asking to fuck me, sir?” your body felt heavy, uncomfortably numb but you couldn’t will yourself to move an inch, your mind was frazzled.

“I’m asking for permission to comfort you, both of us. I’m tired of being alone, aren’t you?” his face had fallen completely, and you were in awe of how open and raw Levi was.

You didn’t answer him, instead pushing his hands off of your face to capture his cheeks in your own hands, forcing your lips together. Fuck the world, fuck the titans, fuck every single thing that dared to bother you and your existence. You were tired, tired of denying yourself pleasures and comfort and basic human interaction. Who cared if you all died? Would it be for naught that you had never gotten to know your comrades? What would be the point in dying for your military if you didn’t have a motivation, a passion driving you? You were so fucking lonely, and Levi was too as he crashed his lips against yours, wrapping his long arms around your back to hold you closer.

You felt the older ravenette pull away for a moment, tugging his shirt over his head to reveal his scarred and muscular chest. You ran your fingers over his middle slowly, taking in every dip and every flex of his body. Levi was beautiful, and you felt honored that you were here in this moment, with a man who had heard more of your thoughts and feelings than any person before. He stopped your hands as they came to his pecks, pushing your arms high to remove your own shirt.

Your nipples hardened meeting the cold air, exposed now in the dim candle light. You didn’t dare cover yourself, nor did Levi let you get the chance. His hands were all over your chest within an instant, caressing and groping as his lips met yours once again. You hadn’t bothered to tell Levi that he was your first kiss, the first man to see you naked, the first man who had shown genuine interest in you and your body. Maybe you’d tell him later, but for now, you just wanted to quell the thoughts swarming your mind.

You stood quickly, maneuvering your lips to the side of his exposed neck. Your kisses were sweet, innocent and pure as Levi began to pull your shorts off, your panties accompanying the fabric. You kicked out of them as Levi grabbed the back of your head, groaning as he slammed your mouths together once more in an open kiss.

Your hands were everywhere on his skin, trying desperately to remember every single detail, knowing that this would most likely be a one time thing. You knew the risks of becoming entangled in a romantic relationship in the military, more so the scouts. Levi or you, or anyone, could die at any moment. This only motivated you further in your desire, ripping down his pants, mildly surprised to see your captain not wearing any underpants.

Levi breathily mumbled as he grasped your waist and led you flat on your back atop his bed, “I thought you were dead today.”

“I’m not, and neither are you,” you hushed his spoken thoughts with another passionate kiss. He tasted minty from his tea, smelled of woodsy musk from his obvious earlier shower, his touch so soft as he grazed your body up and down.

You felt his knees between your legs as he loomed over you, pushing apart your thighs at the force. His right hand stroked your cheek as his tongue prodded past your willing lips, swollen from his attention. His left hand ventured south, resting upon the curve of your hip, digging his fingers to feel the supple flesh.

“You’re quite beautiful, y’know,” he mirrored your earlier ministrations, placing sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck. “One of the reasons I was so fascinated by you, I couldn’t understand how you weren’t married.”

“Maybe in another life,” you simply put, attention drawn to how sinful his lips felt against your flushed skin. He sucked on a particularly sensitive spot, and a whimper left your lips at the contact. You could feel your center slicken, cold air consuming all of your exposed skin. Levi’s hand dared closer and closer to your desire, and you made out the distinguished poke of his manhood against your lower stomach.

When his fingertips nudged against your folds, Levi let out a groan of pleasure, “You’re so wet, cadet. I’ve barely touched you.”

“Captain, I need this,” you begged, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him flush against you. “Please, distract me, make me forget.”

Levi felt no need to answer your pleads, instead allowing his fingers to familiarize himself with your most intimate of parts. His eyes stayed trained on yours, taking in every expression you made, one catching his focus immediately as his pointer finger circled the top of your folds. It felt like a button, and you started moaning desperately as he continued his circling.

“Feels good?” your captain asked, insecurity in the back of his mind.

“Yes,” you took your right hand away from Levi’s neck, grabbing his wrist that was in between your legs, dipping his fingers to your dripping entrance. “Need you here.”

He plunged his pointer and middle fingers in, and your velveteen walls clenched around him. You had pleasured yourself many times just like this, but the heightened pleasure of someone else’s knuckles deep inside you was incredible. No one had ever touched you like this before, looked at you so lovingly and so lustfully. His fingers scissored inside you, and you knew your patience would soon snap.

When Levi’s fingers curled upwards, you thought you were going to pass out. Your eyes screwed shut as loud mewls left your lips, Levi’s free hand covering your mouth. Your hips bucked upwards in his touch, hips rolling fast as your clit caught the fat of his palm. You could feel the familiar bubble of your climax, threatening to spill over as you arched your back.

Levi pulled his fingers from your weeping cunt then, so agonizingly slowly, “No, cadet. Not yet.”

You whined, pressure settling down in your abdomen as Levi took his soaking hand to his hard cock. You couldn’t believe that you hadn’t paid attention to his girth before, he was gorgeous. All the hard work and all the violence had sculpted your captain as if he were a statue. His length stood at full attention, pressed against his belly, his balls hanging in the free space between his thick thighs. You moaned at the sight of Levi stroking himself, seeing the glisten of your arousal coat him. He let out a strangled groan, before letting himself go, falling unceremoniously to capture your lips once again.

“You ready?” Levi asked permission, his kiss so sweet and tender, and you realized then the weight of all of this. You were about to lose your virginities to each other, he would forever hold a mark on you.

You smiled, so full of adoration, there wasn’t anyone else you’d rather be with right now as you spoke, “Yes, sir.”

Levi gripped the base of his dick, bumping the engorged head against your sensitive clit and through your folds as he coated himself more in your essence. You both knew this was going to hurt you, and had either of you not been in such a hurry, you’d take the time to mutually pleasure each other until your bodies were truly ready for this intimate act. There were no coherent thoughts in this moment, only pure passion and animalistic desire.

His tip sunk in, and you felt like you were going to be split in half. Your hands shot up to his arms, nails leaving half crescents on his biceps, your ankles hooking together on his ass as you tensed up at the pain.

“Relax,” he kissed your jaw with a groan. “Gonna’ take care of you.”

You nodded, focusing on his words instead of the pain. Your pelvic floor relaxed, and Levi was able to push himself deeper into your cavern.

“There’s no blood?” Levi questioned you curiously as he glanced down to where your bodies met, not moving even a centimeter to allow you to adjust.

The pain was quickly fading as you mumbled, “Probably broke my hymen on a goddamn horse.”

You both let out a breathy laugh, and Levi’s right hand came to stroke your cheek, pushing back your hair out of your face, “I’ll have to kill that horse then.”

You were rattling your brain for a witty response to your captain when Levi shifted, stroking his length backwards as your walls fluttered around him. Your face was no longer scrunched in pain, your eyebrows unfurrowed and your mouth hung open, feeling nothing but pleasure as his left hand shot to your pulsing pussy, thumbing your clit with the lightest of touches.

“Captain,” you stuttered, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Feels good.”

“Yeah,” he pushed his forehead to yours, his own eyes closing as he pushed his cock back into your depths, so slowly.

You placed a gentle kiss to his lips for a brief moment, neck craning off the pillow under your head. You felt a cramp as he kissed you back, so gently and so softly. You moved your mouth to his jaw, peppering kisses along any exposed skin you reach.

His right hand stayed positioned to your face, his grey colored orbs opened, focusing on your face. You looked up then, and felt your heart hammering in your chest. Levi was so handsome, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes softened without the weight of reality crashing down on him.

“I’m glad it’s you,” your arms were still wrapped around his neck as you rubbed soft circles along the ridge of his undercut. His hips held such a passionate, steady rhythm as he continued plunging into you.

Levi didn’t respond, his hand angling your face to his again. Although unspoken, you could see in his face that he appreciated your words, his thrusts faster in pace now. You couldn’t stop the moans from exiting your throat, volume increasing as his thumb worked you with more pressure. He swallowed your noises with his lips, not even kissing, the two of you just breathing into one another’s mouth.

Suddenly the distance wasn’t close enough, Levi’s hand left the curve of your cheek to wrap his arm around the middle of your back, forcing your body completely against his sweating one. His lips began to work against yours, sloppy and messy as you kissed the man back with the same fever.

Levi’s pace was solid, deep and without error. Your hips tried desperately to meet his thrusts, his wrist in between your centers blocking you from doing so. Your captain didn’t even so much as warn you to stop, his thumb rolling faster against your now swollen clit, that same heat in your stomach rebuilding rapidly. The two of you were so lost in each other, your arms leaving his neck to wrap around his shoulders and forcing his head down to your neck where he lapped and peppered kisses to conceal his own moans. You did the same, lips attached to the curve where his muscular shoulder met his neck.

His touch was unrelenting, but you felt the unmistakable shutter as he plunged right to your cervix, goosebumps rising on his skin under your fingertips. You let out a muffled moan, your nails clawing at his back, your legs somehow tighter around his backside.

Levi’s thumb rubbed harder, so much faster now than his thrusts. Your pussy was fluttering rapidly now, clenching and unclenching around his girth, you were so close. You had a feeling your captain was as well, his pace increasing even faster.

“I’m cumming,” you pulled away from his shoulder to warn Levi, sucking the sensitive area of his neck.

Levi moaned in pleasure, bucking his hips hard into you, and this was what sent you over the edge. Levi couldn’t move even if he wanted to as your cunt gripped him so tightly, contracting so hard around his length. You could hear a string of curses and ‘ah’s from his lips as your hips bucked wildly into his hand, rubbing your clit along his stilled thumb. You’d had plenty of self given orgasms before, but feeling completely filled as your walls fluttered around something was a pleasure you knew you’d be seeking again.

Your teeth were sunk into his neck, and Levi was finally able to continue his strokes as your orgasm slowed, your body limping. His thumb started once more, and you were whimpering at the overstimulation, your contractions not even done. He was pounding into you now, growling into your neck, you could feel the sharp clench of his jaw dig into your shoulder. It didn’t take you more than a minute to build up another orgasm, and as the new waves of pleasure slammed into you, Levi was pulling out.

You came around nothing as Levi rutted into your stomach, feeling the smear of hot cum rub against your middles. He was bucking desperately, moaning and whimpering. The sounds he made paired with the nonstop movement of his thumb only heightened your pleasure, your left hand coming to caress the back of his head.

He removed his touch from you, taking his dripping hand to your waist as his thrusts against your stomach slowed. It crawled under your back to meet his other arm, and he placed sensual, slow kisses to your neck. You did the same, thanking him non verbally. His head lifted, eyes half lidded as he placed his lips to yours, locking them in a saccharine embrace. He pulled away after a few moments, sliding off of your sticky body and out of the bed. Your arms fell to your sides, and he slipped his pants on, avoiding the area of his lower stomach where his cum was drying quickly. He rushed to his dresser, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping himself down quickly, returning back to your body to clean your middle as well.

“You’ll probably need to shower,” Levi broke the silence as he pulled the rag away, his empty hand roaming the curve of your side.

“Probably,” you mumbled in bliss, enjoying his light touch. “I’ll get up in just a minute.”

“You could stay,” Levi offered awkwardly, halting his movements.

“It’s okay, I think I want to be alone,” you smiled, your brain foggy. “Also don’t need rumors to start up if anyone sees me leaving your room in the morning.”

Levi only hummed as you pulled your naked body to a full stand, reaching for your discarded clothes. You pulled your long sleeve over your head first, the edges brushing against the tops of your thighs, stepping into your panties and shorts quickly. The silence was almost overwhelming, neither of you sure of what exactly to say.

“Captain Levi,” you finally spoke, ready to depart. “Thank you.”

He grabbed your wrist, pulling your body to his with no real force, kissing you passionately. You kissed him back hungrily, and had you been more experienced, you would’ve felt the flicker of sparks deep within your stomach, a signal of unconscious feelings sprouting within you.

You pulled away from him, a smile playing at your lips as he spoke raspily, “You know where to go if you don’t want to be alone.”

You threaded your fingers through his open palm, bringing his knuckles to your lips as you placed a soft peck to the back of his hand, “I will, Captain. Goodnight.”

The heat of the sun beat harshly on your back, your body in a full ache as you dodged a punch from Eren. You went to lift your leg into a kick, a yelp leaving your lips at the feeling that you were going to rip in half, and quickly shifted your hips to plan a new attack. Thankfully, your fake out worked, seeing Eren prepare himself for your leg, not for your first to go flying into his gut.

With a loud groan of pain, Eren laid flat on his back in the dirt. Your chests heaved, sweat dripping down your skin, and you extended your palm to the younger boy. You had won this spar, and Eren huffed as he smacked his hand away playfully.

“I had you last time! I can’t believe I lost again!” he complained, eyebrows furrowed as he screwed his eyes shut in a fit.

You laughed then, crossing your arms over your chest, “You got lucky, Jaeger.”

Around the two of you, all the cadets were still in their own sparring matches. Even in your weary state, you had been the first match finished, and you feel a swell of pride. You were getting stronger, more fit to survive the harsh reality of this world.

“Cadets,” Captain Levi made himself known then, stepping forward from the row of squad leaders, unbeknownst to you and Eren he had been watching with a trained eye the entire fight.

“Captain!” you saluted, Eren lazily following along silently.

Levi’s eyes lingered over you for a minute, before shifting his attention to Eren before scoffing, “Pathetic, Jaeger. You need to work on your form.”

You tried desperately to hide a smirk, eyes lit up in amusement as Eren frowned deeply, sighing, trying not to lash out on your superior. Levi continued, “Cadet, good job.”

“Thank you, Captain,” you smiled brightly, now trying to conceal the oncoming heat of your blush flaming up your neck, licking the tips of your ears.

“However, never let your guard down after you think you’ve won.”

The sound of your skull cracking into the ground beneath you sent your vision in a dizzy frenzy. Levi hovered over you, and you could make out the lingering feeling of his boot hitting your stomach, causing you to lay flat on your back. The sun was high in the sky today, not a single cloud in view or whisk of wind felt.

“Ow,” you heaved, bringing yourself into a seated position, hunched over. “What was that for?”

“You can’t always predict what a titan’s next move is going to be,” Levi cooly explained, crouching down to meet your eye level. “This is how you fucked up, both times, with an abnormal. You have to pay attention. You can’t let yourself get caught up in a victory. Understood, brat?”

You nodded, feeling your ears grow hot as multiple sets of eyes watched on in curiosity, “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll see you in my office after dinner for your punishment,” his eyes twinkled, a hint of a smirk on the corner of his lips. “Cockiness is not befitting for a brat like you.”

You groaned, biting your tongue to hold back words you knew would come across as disrespectful. You didn’t see what you did to deserve a punishment, but you huffed as Levi strolled away, yelling at Eren about something. Probably about his smirk when he watched you fall on your ass.

Turns out your punishment was anything but, instead a much rougher fucking left your body nearly in shambles. This became a routine, instead of traveling outside to stare at the stars and lose yourself in your thoughts, Levi’s body became your comfort, your relief. He felt the same, pouring his loneliness into your willing body as he claimed you night after night, week after week.

He’d tell you sometimes in the afterglow of your orgasms that this was strengthening the squad, this was for the betterment of the scouts. Because what better way was there to build trust? You’d listen half heartedly, knowing this was all an excuse to rationalize why you continued seeking each other’s comfort.

Levi was soon fiercely protective of you, and you unconsciously him. This was reinforced after the 57th expedition failed horribly, the faces of your deceased squad members haunting your dreams every night. Levi would hold you as you sobbed through the nightmares. It hurt, so fucking much. Levi would whisper to you that you just had to keep moving forward. You would nod your head and listen. Your captain knew best, and you were finding it harder every passing day to pretend that he didn’t.

You didn’t try to make sense of your relationship, just letting it exist. Some days you’d push him away, others you’d pull the ravenette closer to your body. Caught between wanting to leave the man you’d realized you’d fallen in love with, or go into hiding away from the military with Levi and marry the son of a bitch. You liked to think he felt the same, his words few, but his acts spoke volumes of his feelings.

And when you laid limp on the battlefield, titan corpses steaming around you, your breaths shallow as your tired body began to prepare to shut down, you smiled. Everything all at once came flooding to you as you stared up at the sky, completely alone.

You blinked at the clouds, painted so pretty in pinks and oranges at the setting sun. You could hear your name being screamed somewhere in the distance, the voice vaguely familiar. You felt relief wash over you as the large open wound on your stomach gushed an unbelievable amount of blood. Full of shock, your adrenaline keeping your pain at bay, you thought humorously that you had no idea you had that much blood running through your body.

Raven hair and charcoal eyes entered your hazy vision, and you kept that smile on your face. Your fingers reached up, reaching Levi’s soaking cheek, not being able to tell if it was because of blood, or tears. You smoothed your thumb under his eye, and you were being lifted. You couldn’t hear his words, only the dullness of sound as the world continued to slow around you.

You stared at the clouds, completely at peace. You had conquered your biggest fear, growing close to another, just to lose them. Images of Levi flashes before your eyes, his stoic expression, his commanding leadership, his sensual caresses, his passionate kisses as he poured all of his feelings out for you. You loved him, you realized. You were so happy that you got to experience this in this lifetime.

The colors of the sky blurred together, and you could feel the wind whisk around you as Levi shot off on his odm gear. You were finally flying in the clouds.

LACHERI © 2021: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations. this is my only account.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic were both JZX and Jiang Yanli are trans? I imagine the engagement would get complicated.

The More Things Change - ao3

“My lady,” the midwife said. “Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

Madame Jin shook her head. “I need a son,” she said.

“My lady –”

“I’m not doing that again,” Madame Jin said, her voice getting stronger. “I need a son.”

“But –”

She looked at her loyal maid, who inclined her head.

A knife flashed.

“Congratulations, my lady,” her maid said, pushing aside the midwife’s body with her foot. “You have a son.”

Madame Jin smiled.

-

“I’m glad you survived the birth of your child,” Madame Yu said to her old childhood friend, wondering why she’d been invited over to visit Lanling City quite so quickly – it hadn’t even been a month. “Were you thinking –”

“I have a son,” her friend said.

“Congratulations.”

“You don’t understand,” her friend said. “There’s a problem.”

-

“A-Li,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said in a strange tone. “Do you like wearing dresses?”

“Uh-huh,” Jiang Yanli said, trying to see if she could stick her fist into her mouth. She’d always worn frocks, the way all children her age did, but at some point soon her mother had been warning her that she’d need to switch over to wearing proper robes for boys. Jiang Yanli had burst into tears, saying she didn’t want to be a boy at all – that she didn’t want to leave her mother’s side, that she didn’t want to join the world of men, she didn’t, she didn’t.

“And you really don’t want to go be a boy? Really, you’re sure?”

Jiang Yanli nodded.

“What if I said you didn’t have to be? You could be a girl, just the way you like.”

“Really?”

“Mm. But you’d have to be a girl forever.”

“Okay,” Jiang Yanli said happily. “I wanna be a girl forever.”

“Good,” her mother said, and picked her up. “Just keep saying that.”

-

“What do you think we are,” Jiang Fengmian asked his wife blankly. “Qinghe Nie?”

His wife glared daggers at him.

“Attempt the impossible,” she said stiffly. “A-Li has been claiming to be a girl consistently for a year. Would you deny her the chance to follow her dreams?”

Well, when she put it that way…

Jiang Fengmian hesitated.

“It does create a problem,” his wife said, and he looked at her. She smiled faintly and leaned forward, showing her curves to their best advantage. “If she’s a girl, she’ll marry out, won’t she? We need a boy.”

Jiang Fengmian swallowed. A boy sounded – nice, he thought vaguely, eyes caught on what he was being offered. A little boy, lively and bright, with a happy smile always on his face…yes, that sounded rather nice.

Wei Changze’s letter upstairs said that his wife had announced that they had conceived, and that she had divined that it would be a son – it was frightfully early to make such predictions, less than a month in, but apparently disciples of the immortal mountain were able to determine such things early. A boy like that, who could be friends with their boy, a reason for them to come to visit and maybe even to stay…

Yes, he thought. That sounded rather good.

“All right,” he said. “A-Li can be a girl, I guess.”

-

Madame Yu and Madame Jin let news of the engagement seep out as rumor for months before telling their husbands. When they did, they took different approaches: Madame Jin pointed out the strategic benefits of an alliance with Yunmeng Jiang and the unlikelihood of Jin Guangshan finding a match for their son that would give him so much more influence in the cultivation world, which had made her husband stop his grumbling and look upon the match with a favorable eye.

Madame Yu stared at her husband, for whom she had just born a son three weeks premature and very nearly died in the process, and said, “What’s your problem?”

“A-Li can’t marry the Jin sect heir! She’s not –” He waved his hands. “The possibility of children –”

“I would have thought that would be a selling point,” Madame Yu said, and he blinked at her. “He’s Guangshan’s son. There will be children enough.”

After some further arguing, Jiang Fengmian begrudgingly backed down.

Madame Yu smiled to herself, and thought of grandchildren.

-

Everyone said that Jin Zixuan was a spoiled brat and incredibly lucky, but he didn’t think he was. Sure, he was rich and legitimate; his father valued him, while his mother loved him and would defend him against any challengers to his position as heir, but privately…

“Why do I have to work so hard?” Jin Zixuan asked, panting. “I’m already cultivating, and my teachers say I’m not bad with the sword –”

“Not bad isn’t good enough,” his mother said sharply. “You have to keep up with all the rest of them, and that means getting ahead now.”

“The rest of who?” he asked. “Do you mean…”

He hesitated, not knowing if he was also included in his mother’s taboo against mentioning the results of his father’s philandering.

“All of the cultivation world’s young gentlemen,” she said, to his surprise. “You have to keep up with them. No, you need to exceed them. You must!”

“But – why?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

-

“Mother,” Jiang Yanli said. She was clutching a book in her hands. “Mother, can we talk?”

Her mother frowned at her, looking disapproving – and then she saw the book.

Jiang Yanli thought she would yell at her, but she didn’t; her mother only gestured for her to come into her room, ordering her maids to close the doors and windows.

“Mother,” Jiang Yanli said. “Mother, the book –”

“How did you get a spring book?” her mother asked. She looked tired. “Surely you’re still too young?”

Jiang Yanli bowed her head.

It was true, she was too young. And yet…

“Mother, the pictures in the book…”

“I know.” Her mother sighed. “All right. Let me explain.”

-

Jin Zixuan stared at his mother. He felt sick.

“But,” he said, and swallowed. “But what about…?”

“I’ve handled it,” she said harshly. “But that is why you must not allow your father to take you to a brothel. Is that understood?”

-

“Who do you think is the best girl? Zixuan-xiong?”

“Oh, don’t ask him! He has a fiancée, so his answer will be her!”

“A fiancée? Really? What sect is she from? She must be extremely talented!”

“Forget it,” Jin Zixuan said.

“What do you mean by that?” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, and suddenly he was getting into his face. “Say that again if you dare!”

Jin Zixuan opened his mouth, hating him – hating the whole situation, being stuck not making any decisions for himself, his whole life mapped out for him by others – but then hesitated.

Jiang Yanli is the only one fit for you, his mother said. Do you understand? The only one.

“I haven’t met her since I was five,” he said instead of what he wanted, rolling his eyes. “So how could I dare to boast about her in your presence? You all want to know about her, ask Jiang-gongzi.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at him, the wind suddenly taken out of his sails.

Jin Zixuan escaped.

He felt like shit, thought. She was his fiancée, and he didn’t know anything about her – he didn’t want to hear about her, think about her. And yet…

The only one.

He went back to his room and wrote her a letter. It was a mess, the worst thing he’d ever written, nothing at all like the polite and careful phrasing, elegant and beautiful, that he’d been trying to put together, something worthy of his name.

He sent it before he could think better of it.

-

Jiang Yanli held the letter to her chest and smiled.

-

They’d exchanged a few dozen letters. Jin Zixuan knew that his intended was smart and witty, empathetic and kind, observant and well-meaning, but he didn’t know that she was beautiful until after they escaped from the indoctrination camp and the cave with the Xuanwu of Slaughter.

He’d just accompanied Jiang Cheng for the entire seven days it took to get to the Lotus Pier, collapsing right alongside him, and while Jiang Cheng had – somehow – gotten back on his feet and immediately led his father and mother out the door to go rescue Wei Wuxian, he’d stayed down on the floor until someone knelt down in front of him and smiled.

“Can I get you something to eat, Jin-gongzi?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, and turned bright red. He could sure think of some things he’d like to eat – living as his father’s son had certainly given him an education (however theoretical) about that.

“Food,” Jiang Yanli clarified, giggling into her sleeve. “Let me get you some food.”

-

This was probably a bad idea, Jiang Yanli thought, looking down at the head tucked against her chest. I probably should’ve just stuck to food. What if he gets with child? What will we do then?

She couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it, though.

“A-Xuan,” she whispered, and Jin Ziuxan stirred a little. “Can we do it again?”

“You’re insatiable.”

That wasn’t a refusal.

-

“A-Li!” Jin Zixuan shouted, rushing forward. “A-Li, A-Li…!”

She collapsed into his arms.

He looked at the retainers from Meishan Yu, stubborn but pale. “It’s all right,” he said. “She’s my fiancée. I can take care of her.”

“The Jin sect walks in the center path,” one of the retainers said. “Never quite committing to the Sunshot Campaign. How do we know this isn’t a trick to get into the Wen sect’s good books?”

Jin Zixuan bit his lip. He’d pushed his father time and time again, and even that had only gotten them to participate half-heartedly in the fight against the Wen sect. What could he say? What worth was his word?

“It’s all right,” Jiang Yanli said. “I trust him.”

-

“You could do so much better, you know,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s not too late!”

Jiang Yanli smiled down at her wedding outfit, but thinking instead of the panicked expression on Jin Zixuan’s face a week before when he’d unexpectedly thrown up in the morning when he was supposed to be preparing for the Phoenix Mountain hunt.

“Oh, it’s too late,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “On that note, you pick the name.”

“The name…?”

“For our upcoming nephew.”

“Shijie! You didn’t!”

Jiang Yanli’s grin widened.

-

“Wei Wuxian has committed a crime in attacking our camp and taking the Wen remnants,” Jin Zixuan’s father announced. “We should –”

“Let it go, Father.”

“…what?!”

“I’m getting married, and he’s A-Li’s shidi,” Jin Zixuan reminded his father. “It would be inauspicious to start a marriage by breaking such a relationship.”

His father looked like he was planning on ignoring that, so Jin Zixuan used his trump card.

“We can’t afford anything inauspicious right now,” he said. “Not when there’s a child on the way.”

His mother dropped her cup.

-

“I have to go,” Jin Zixuan said. “You don’t understand. I have to.”

Jiang Yanli rubbed his hair. “You’re supposed to be in seclusion,” she reminded him. “As am I.”

“I’ve been throwing up every morning for two months, A-Li,” Jin Zixuan pleaded. “I can order them to clear the kitchen. No one would know we were there!”

Jiang Yanli laughed a little. “The craving’s that bad, huh?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, all right. We’ll give it a shot…”

It would have worked, too, if Jin Guangyao hadn’t noticed that too many people were in the wrong place and taken it upon himself to investigate.

“…Jiang-guniang?” He stared at her flat waist, then turned his eyes slowly towards the roundness at Jin Zixuan’s. “Jin-gongzi…?!”

“It’s all right, it’s A-Yao,” Jin Zixuan said to Jiang Yanli. “He won’t tell anyone. Right?”

Jin Guangyao shook his head mutely.

“Seclusion,” he muttered. “No wonder…everyone said it was bad timing that you went into seclusion right before Mistress Jiang announced her pregnancy. But it wasn’t, was it..?” He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

“We’re in your debt,” Jin Zixuan said, and thought Jin Guangyao’s eyes upon him were softer than they’d ever been before. “You’ll be a good uncle.”

Jin Guangyao smiled. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “One question, if I may. Who’s the father?”

Jiang Yanli wrapped an arm around Jin Zixuan’s shoulders and beamed.

Jin Guangyao’s jaw dropped again.

-

“Your son needs you,” Jiang Yanli said to Madame Jin. “Go.”

-

“Jin Ling,” Madame Jin said, looking down at the baby in her arms. A son, her grandson…a miracle. “Well. You’re – not what I expected.”

If her husband ever found out…

Well.

She’d just have to make sure he wouldn’t, now, wouldn’t she?

[ibijau]

time to dust off a bit that AU where nhs is half demon!

This is also on AO3

“This place looks awful,” Nie Huaisang remarked upon being led into the cave where Wei Wuxian apparently lived these days. “And I say that as someone who has been living among demons for five years. I thought nothing could shock me anymore, but… congratulations, you proved me wrong.”

“I call it the Demon Slaughtering Cave,” Wei Wuxian coldly retorted. “Do you know why?”

“The smell makes them pass out?” Nie Huaisang guessed, before turning to Lan Wangji. “I’m surprised you tolerate this. Surely you don’t actually live in here, do you?”

It was actually quite funny to witness the very subtle conflict on Lan Wangji’s face, who had apparently grown minutely more expressive during Nie Huaisang’s absence. Torn between standing by Wei Wuxian, and defending his honour which had to be insulted over the accusation of living in such filth, Lan Wangji chose to remain silent. But of course, that was usually what he’d always chosen in any situation, expressing his contempt without a word.

“Are you here to criticise my home?” Wei Wuxian asked. “Or are you here to warn me about some supposed threats against my shijie?”

“How rude, you’re not even offering me tea,” Nie Huaisang lamented. “And I’ve come all this way to see you, too! We used to be friends, Wei-xiong, you can’t be so rude to me.”

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes, but sent Wen Ning to make them tea. That served to confirm Nie Huaisang’s suspicions that the cave was not an actual living place if tea had to be prepared somewhere else, meaning there had to be an entire side to the Burial Mounds that he wasn’t seeing, a part of it where people actually lived, while this cave was likely intended as a workshop, and maybe also to scare any unwanted visitors.

Most important of all, that meant Wen Ning was out of the way, and Nie Huaisang could now speak more freely. Just because Wen Ning was Wei Wuxian’s friend didn’t mean that he was Nie Huaisang’s, and certainly some of the things he had to discuss should not be heard by anyone who might be counted as an enemy of Qinghe Nie.

“So, someone in the mortal world is trying to bribe demons into killing your shijie’s husband and son, as well as my Da-ge for good measure,” Nie Huaisang announced as soon as Wen Ning was gone. “So far nobody has dared to do it because I’ve made it clear that I won’t allow it, and my mother is backing me, but…”

“Your mother… the demon?” Wei Wuxian gasped. “You found your mother?”

“Technically, she found me. But the point is…”

“What sort of demon is she?” Wei Wuxian asked, as if they had time to get distracted by such trivial details. “I’ve tried to figure it out, based on what people said about your outbursts, and on what you wrote to me back then, but…”

“She’s a taotie,” Nie Huaisang impatiently cut him. “A devourer, doomed to a hunger that nothing can ever appease, capable of eating anything presented to her, even poison or stone. Now, about that murder plot…”

“A Taotie? Your sect’s symbol?” Lan Wangji remarked, earning a very disappointed look from Nie Huaisang. It wasn’t like Lan Wangji to miss the big picture like this, and even less so to waste his breath saying something obvious.

“She’s the taotie from our founding legend. Apparently she returns every few generations to check if Qinghe Nie is still around, scolds us for not refining our cultivation method yet, and then disappears again for the next century. As I understand it, my father was hardly the first lover she took within our sect, though I’m the first hybrid to have been born. Lucky me.”

“Isn’t the Nie sect several centuries old?” Wei Wuxian asked. “If she was here when it was founded…”

“Oh, she’s older than that. She claims she’s older than any of the current cultivation sects. Which is why she has so much influence among demons, and she’s able to use that influence to protect your family and mine, but probably not for much longer and so they’re going to die and it’s going to be awful and you might get blamed for it. Can we please talk about that?”

To Wei Wuxian’s credit, he did grow more serious after being reminded of that threat, and Nie Huaisang was able to bring their conversation back to something a little less distressing than his mother.

“As I understand it, the plot is as follows,” Nie Huaisang explained. “Someone, a human, is trying to get a demon to murder Jin Zixuan, his wife, and their son, with the intention of placing the blame on Lanling Jin’s most obvious enemies: the Yiling Patriarch, and Qinghe Nie.”

“I’m not an enemy of the Jins,” Wei Wuxian protested, so mildly that he had to know it wasn’t quite exact.

“I’m sure they have their own opinion on that,” Nie Huaisang retorted, noting the way Lan Wangji couldn’t refrain from a slight frown. “And it certainly can’t be debated that Qinghe Nie is their enemy. Well, what’s left of it, anyway,” he added after a moment of hesitation. “I’m told we aren’t doing so well these days.”

The way both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji suddenly avoided his eyes confirmed that those rumours too had been true. Gossip in the demon world tended to be accurate. Demons just didn’t have the imagination to invent things, as Nie Huaisang had quickly learned, though they were quite good at omitting details or telling only half of what had happened. He had hoped that in this case, the stories had been exaggerated.

It hurt to know he had become the downfall of his sect, as he’d constantly feared since his true nature had been revealed. It hurt to know that his brother had been abandoned by so many of those who had stood by him, those men and women who had believed in him when he’d been little more than a child ruling over them, when he’d lead them into an impossible war. Nie Mingjue should have been a celebrated hero, admired and revered, but he’d been unlucky enough to have an unstable demon bastard for a brother, and that was enough to ruin even the greatest of legends.

“To be honest, when I first heard those rumours, I wasn’t too concerned,” Nie Huaisang confessed. “Whoever is doing this didn’t understand demons, not at first. Offering them gold and silver… nothing that can tempt any demon powerful enough to try anything this bold, and even the weaker ones were easily dissuaded once it was made clear that certain people are under my mother’s protection. But lately… well, I suppose that person has been doing some research at last, and they know better what price to offer. Fear of my mother soon won’t offer enough protection.”

“What is that person offering then?” Wei Wuxian asked. “The blood of virgins? The flesh of children? Cultivation secrets?”

“Dominion over selected parts of the human world,” Nie Huaisang replied. “Qinghe, Yiling… most of the Wens’ former territories, too, would belong to whoever can murder Jin Zixuan and make it look like the enemies of the Jins were behind it. Then, as I understand, you and Da-ge would also be slaughtered by those same demons, who would thus prove that they can be honourable, and earn their right to those abandoned lands and the people living on them.”

“No, the cultivation world would never allow it.”

“It depends on who is suggesting it, Wei-xiong. A sect powerful enough, influential enough, could force others to accept anything. The Wens could have done it, why shouldn’t others?”

Wei Wuxian frowned, now so severe that Nie Huaisang suddenly better understood why his old friend was feared by so many. There was something unearthly about Wei Wuxian when he was so serious. He wasn’t Wei-xiong, the brash and funny boy Nie Huaisang had laughed with in the back hills of the Cloud Recesses. He was the Yiling Patriarch, a dangerous man controlling forces that no human should ever have had in their hands.

Nie Huaisang shivered, and wondered if that was what people had seen in him, too, those rare times he had lost his temper.

“I have very little respect for Jin Guangshan,” Wei Wuxian stated, “but even he wouldn’t murder his own son for power.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Nie Huaisang agreed.

“Jin Guangyao,” Lan Wangji immediately guessed.

He had been a little too quick to suggest that name, Nie Huaisang thought, as if perhaps he’d had doubts already. In that case he hadn’t shared those doubts with Wei Wuxian, who only looked confused upon hearing that person mentioned.

It annoyed Nie Huaisang that Lan Wangji might have had suspicions. He had never thought Jin Guangyao might have anything but the best intention toward himself and Nie Mingjue, not until this new plot had started, and he’d been forced to see who would profit from it. He had loved Jin Guangyao as one of his closest friend, he’d wept from gratitude over Jin Guangyao’s efforts to help him deal with his new reputation, he’d felt so sorry that his attack on Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli must have caused such problems to his very dear friend…

Now, he only wondered if Jin Guangyao hadn’t always thought of using a demon to eliminate the only person standing between him and a chance to rule over Lanling Jin.

Jin Zixun wasn’t supposed to be at that Night Hunt. Jin Guangyao had promised he wouldn't be. Jin Guangyao to whom Nie Huaisang had told so many of his secrets, including his weakness to realgar wine. He’d never thought it might be dangerous to share that. On the contrary, he’d though Jin Guangyao should know, to help him avoid that wine more easily.

Jin Guangyao had said they were friends.

Nie Huaisang's mother had laughed in his face when he'd come to her after he'd realised the truth, and she'd called him an idiot for trusting any mortal. There could be no friendship between humans and demons, she'd told him, no lasting affection. She had wanted him to forget about his old friends, about his old sect, about his brother "who would kill you on sight now, to regain the status he lost by protecting you", or so she assured him. She was very old, she'd reminded him, and he would only survive if he listened to her. 

She was very old, Nie Huaisang agreed. Too old to understand some things were worth dying for, too much of a demon to feel the strength of human affections, too selfish to understand that Nie Huaisang couldn't bear to live if his brother was dead. 

His mother would be so annoyed when she discovered where he had disappeared to this time. Nie Huaisang wasn't sure she loved him, but she enjoyed the novelty of his existence enough to be upset that he'd left her. 

"Yes, I suppose it would make sense for it to be Lianfang-zun," Wei Wuxian muttered, whose analysis of the situation Nie Huaisang had mostly tuned out, only listening enough to feel oddly proud that his old friend's thoughts had seen the same oddities as he had. "Everyone already suspects he will take over Lanling Jin when his father dies. Jin Zixuan isn't interested in ruling after all. But I can see how he'd want more security than that. Jin Zixuan could change his mind about ruling." 

"Honestly I can't even blame him," Nie Huaisang said. "In other circumstances, I might well root for him. But too many people I like need to die for San-ge to get what he wants, so I can't allow it."

"And what's your plan, Nie-xiong?" 

Nie Huaisang grimaced at the question he'd expected and dreaded. He was only saved from admitting he currently had no plan, beyond involving Wei Wuxian and hoping for the best, by Wen Ning returning with the tea. 

Confessing he wasn't in control before Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji was bad enough. To admit it before an enemy of Nie Mingjue was inconceivable. Sensing his reluctance, Wei Wuxian turned cold again. 

"If you trust Lan Zhan and me, you have to trust Wen Ning too," he warned.

"Wei-xiong, you're assuming I trust you. I'm here because I have no choice, but I know you'd gladly kill me now, if you didn't need me as well to protect your shijie." 

"Why would I kill you? You were tricked when shijie was hurt, so I have no quarrel with you." 

"Everyone has quarrels with monsters," Nie Huaisang snapped. 

"Except other monsters," Wei Wuxian retorted, glancing at Wen Ning who pretended not to notice he had caused an argument and was getting everything ready for them to have tea. He'd found a somewhat clean surface to work as a table, and was now pouring tea into a mismatched set of glasses, as carefully as if they were all young masters of great sects still, rather than unwanted exiles. 

Demons shared with humans the same disgust of corpses, be they walking or still. But it was hard to feel repulsed by Wen Ning, who looked so distraught when he realised one of the glasses was leaking a bit. 

"I don't care what he is," Nie Huaisang claimed, which was only partly untrue. "But I care who. He's a Wen. How can I trust him where Da-ge is concerned?" 

Before Wei Wuxian could protest, the clear sound of a bell rang through the cave, making all three of Nie Huaisang’s hosts exchange a look. 

"Seems we're a popular destination today," Wei Wuxian said. 

"I'll go see who it is," Wen Ning quickly offered, his eyes darting toward Nie Huaisang. "You three can continue talking now." 

After Wen Ning had left, Nie Huaisang felt a little embarrassed for acting like such a rude guest, but most of all he felt relieved to see that fierce corpse gone. 

"So, what's your plan?" Wei Wuxian asked again when they sat to drink their tea. "You do have one, right?" 

"My plan is the only one that has ever worked for me: let someone smarter than me come up with something. I'm sure you know better than me how to warn your shijie of incoming danger."

Wei Wuxian laughed at that answer, almost the same laugh as when they were young, when their only plans were about smuggling wine and meat inside the Cloud Recesses. Back then, Nie Huaisang had been in awe of his new friend, half convinced there was nothing in the world Wei Wuxian couldn’t do, once he set his mind to it. Perhaps Nie Huaisang still believed that, and his mother was right in calling him a sentimental fool.

“We need a messenger,” Lan Wangji remarked. “Direct contact with the young Madam Jin is dangerous.”

“Hm, the murder plan could already be in motion,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “If I made her come here, someone might take advantage and attack her. We need someone trustworthy, someone who can access Jinlin Tai without requiring an invitation. Ideally, we also need someone who could have access to the Unclean Realm, and that’s a little harder to find. Unless…”

“Unless?” Nie Huaisang asked, half guessing already who such a person might be. “Wei-xiong, no. It needs to be someone trustworthy, someone who will not betray us to Jin Guangyao. If you’re thinking of who I’m thinking… no. He loves San-ge too well. If it comes to a choice between trusting me or trusting San-ge, I know that Er-ge… I don’t want to know who he’ll choose, because I already know, if that makes sense.”

“Xiongzhang stands for justice,” Lan Wangji replied, some anger displayed on his impassive face upon hearing his brother’s integrity doubted. “Xiongzhang would help us.”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. He wanted to believe that, because he liked Lan Xichen, who had also helped so much when he’d been virtually imprisoned inside his own home. But Lan Xichen had too readily agreed with Jin Guangyao’s idea of letting Nie Huaisang go to that fateful Night Hunt, and it was Lan Xichen who had eventually convinced Nie Mingjue to give this a chance. Either Lan Xichen had been Jin Guangyao’s accomplice or he had been his unwilling weapon, and while the second option was more likely, it didn’t make him more trustworthy.

Nie Huaisang was trying to explain this, much to Lan Wangji’s growing displeasure, when Wen Ning returned with news from the gate.

“It’s Lan zongzhu,” he announced. “He’s bringing money and food again. Do I let him in?”

[lisinfleur]

Fjölskyldusambönd

The request:

Author’s Notes | Notes Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader, reader’s little sister Info | Requested by anon. Title translation: Family relationships. Words | 1064 ⁑ Warnings: Some cursing

There was the crying little thing screaming its lungs out once again.

It was not that Ivar didn't want children someday. And it wasn't that he couldn't understand the whole situation: you'd lost your family. Your baby sister was everything you had left from them. So, it was more than comprehensible you would dedicate to the care of the little girl, but it didn't make the experience better for him.

He wasn't angry at the baby for waking him up in the middle of the night. He definitely wasn't angry about having to stop the production of his heirs for you to go and cherish the little one... No.

Was he?

Of damn course he was!

Ivar was foaming in anger to have you leaving his side all the time for tasks the maidens could be doing for you!

Why the fuck did he have bought two new slaves since the child arrived if not to help you with those tasks?

But you wanted to do everything by yourself, and you were treating the girl more and more as if she was your child, which was attracting the eyes to him, of course.

What kind of foster father was he that was never seen with his child on his lap or in his arms somehow?

People were starting to charge him actions towards that little thing he didn't have the initial intention to have!

It was your sister, of course. But he wanted to have his own children!

Was his dream being put aside?

The childish cry became louder. Where were you, after all?

The women he brought were that useless?

"What is happening here? Why is she screaming like that?" he entered the little one's room.

And you thanked the gods, immediately passing the little one into his arms.

"Hold her, please! She's in fever, and we don't have the herbs! I sent Thara and Dalia to different places, to bring the things I need, but with you here, I can prepare the necessary quicker!"

He could barely tell you to wait. In a second, you were out of the room, and he was completely alone with that little crying thing screaming in his arms.

If there was a way for Ivar to feel more insecure, it was unknown for him.

He found a way to sit down, so he could place the little one on the bed and ensure it wouldn't fall or anything like that. But as soon as he laid the little body over the bed, the child yelled so loud that Ivar thought the bed could be on fire or something horrible like that.

It was instinctive to lift her once again against his chest.

"Gods! How come such a little thing can scream this loud?" he spoke, looking at the sobbing child in his arms. "You could scare a whole army with a single scream, girl!"

For some reason, the sobbing baby started reducing its cry. Her eyes, reddened by the intense cry, became wide into Ivar's, showing him she was paying full attention to his voice.

"Oh, so you like to hear me speaking, uh?" he spat, ironic. "That's something, for a change, since your sister doesn't care about what I say. I told her dozens of times she should ask for more help from the maidens, but does she listen to me? Of course, no!"

He was angry.

Angry, Ivar was almost theatrical.

His irony and sarcasm, mixed with his intense expressivity, started calling the little one's attention and, before he could notice, she wasn't actually sobbing anymore.

But putting everything out was something he was needing.

So, Ivar just kept talking and talking, not noticing your sister had stopped crying in his arms.

"It's not that I don't want to have children or to have you around, but gods, sometimes you scream louder than the Christian men I've slaughtered in York, girl! We should sit and talk about this loudness! You're too young for screams like that! You're gonna end up mute before you reach six Summers! And I'll be deaf before your third!" he continued venting.

Not really minding what he was saying. Nothing was really more than a vent.

But somehow, the little girl thought his speech was funny.

And when he said he should take her with him next time he was to enter the battlefield - cause her screams would definitely scare the enemies more than his men - she burst laughing, finally catching Ivar's attention to the fact she was fully calm in his arms.

"Oh, so you think I'm funny?"

She opened her toothless mouth, looking at him with expectation stamped on her face, clearly waiting for his next expression to burst in laughter again as if his vent was some kind of joke for her.

Ivar decided to take the test. He twisted his face, pretending to be angry, snarling at her. And instead of being scared, the girl laughed even louder than before, causing his anger to subside in surprise and disbelief.

"I didn't expect it," he murmured, disarmed by the girl's laughter. "Are you trying to conquer me, uh, little thing?"

At every laugh, Ivar saw himself more taken. He didn't even notice when the maidens came back with the herbs for your tea. Nor when you came back with the bag with the tea for her to suckle.

He did not notice you stopped at the door to watch that scene, with your husband making dozens of faces just for your sister to laugh. Not until you spoke, calling his attention.

"You'll be an amazing father," you said, surprising him with your reaction.

It was clear he thought you would be mad at him for losing the focus on the little girl's fever. But she was so calm and laughing so hard that even her fever diminished. She suckled the sweetened tea holding Ivar's shirt. And until she fell asleep, she didn't want to leave his arms.

When he finally placed her on her crib, tranquil once again, you could see something had changed in your husband's eyes.

"She likes you, Ivar," you mumbled, caressing his chest.

"She has good taste," he answered, cocky for a joke but embracing your waist.

Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to have your little sister around.

It was good to have someone that wouldn't fear Ivar the Boneless, after all.

Do you like my work? Support me!

Tagged ones:

|| @bluearchersstuff || @ivarswickedqueen || @akamaiden || @bang-kim-bap || @cris101071 || @elysias-temple || @alicedopey || @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla || @lol-haha-joke || @readsalot73 || @rekdreams247 || @naaladareia​ || @laketaj24​ || @therealcalicali​ || @grungyblonde​ || @arses21434 || @honestsycrets​ || @2thequietone4 || @blackspiritshake​ || @vikingsbifrost​ || @wallabieswisher || @cyarikashakira​ || @chinduda​ || @isthat-tyra98​ || @xinyourdreamsx​ || @thiahilmarsdottir​ || @queenbeeta​ || @winchesterwife27​ || @gold-dragon-slayer​ || @mzliterarydreamer​ || @youbloodymadgenius​ || @marvelouuse​ || @tgrrose​ || @lif3snotouttogetyou​ || @lordsexmachine​ || @deathbyarabbit​ || @ietss​ || @thorins-queen-of-erebor​ || @didiintheblog​ || @h-e-a-v-y-l-e-a-t-h-e-r || @heavenly1927​ || @alexhandersenx​ || @alexisshoto​ || @letsloveimagines​ || @astrape-the-weatherwitch​ || @destynelseclipsa​ || @charming-merlin​ || @violetidk​ || @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ || @ghvsts​ || @littlemoonchildbear​ ||

Want to be tagged? Ask me!

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie fanfiction: Playing house (Rated T, Humor) Part 1

In which the ones at the end of time place them in a reality where they are a married couple in a suburban town, à la WandaVision.

Master list of my Loki x Sylvie fanfiction can be found here.

---

They didn't know what to expect at the end of time. But they certainly didn't expect to open the door to the citadel and walk into a town.

"This must be an illusion", Loki says in horror as he takes in his new surroundings- two storied houses in every shade of pastel, gardens of roses, lillies and lilacs, wide open roads, pavements lined with freshly cut bushes. "This isn't real."

It looks real enough though. It feels real too.

This is the quintessential suburban town. And they are in a quintessential suburban house.

"They have trapped us in a nightmare", Loki concludes, scanning the new neighborhood again, this time spotting the children playing tennis in the front lawn of the house next door.

Sylvie touches the door frame with the words "Mr. and Mrs. Low-key" etched in the wood in gold. Her fingers trace the letters. It feels so surreal and impossible, yet it feels just as real as she is. "Apparently, we're married in this reality."

"It's not all bad then", he concludes cheekily.

She gives him a death stare. "I don't have time to play house with you right now."

He shrugs. "Until we find a way out, we have to." He checks out the neighborhood one last time for any identifiable imminent threats, before walking back into the house- their house. Holding the door open, he gestures to Sylvie. "Coming?"

She smooths the wrinkles in the sundress she has ended up with, vowing to definitely kill the bastards that did this.

-

The interior of the house does not suit two gods of mischief at all. It's all very... quaint. The sofa is soft and snuggly, the telly hanging from the velvet painted walls is huge, her wardrobe has way too many dresses and skirts, and the knives in the kitchen look like they'd be hard to kill a man with.

"Can you conjure me up something less-" she vaguely gestures at her figure, her lips arched in an angle that spells distaste.

He understands exactly what she means, but does exactly what he wants. With a snap of his fingers, he conjures up an entire rack of clothes for her.

She checks them out one by one, noticing how every jeans, every top is designed a specific way. "These look very tight."

His grin tells her it's intentional.

"You know I can still wipe that smug look off your face in this reality, right?" Her voice expresses how serious she is.

He waves his hands again, and this time, a second rack of clothes materialises, ones which are more functional.

She picks a jeans and oversized top and disappears into the bedroom.

He plops down on the sofa, staring at the Van Gogh hanging from the wall, wondering what their next move should be.

---

The ring of the doorbell breaks them out of their contemplation.

Sylvie grabs every single knife she can find in the kitchen drawers, Loki grabs the mop. Gesturing to each other, they open the door at the count of three, to find a woman standing there with a casserole in her hands.

"Hiya neighbor", she says cheerily. "I heard that you two just moved in. Oh my, that's a lot of knives."

Sylvie holds one up to her throat. "Who sent you?"

The woman grimaces, keeping her eyes fixed at the spot where the knife touches her skin. "My husband. He thought we should welcome our neighbors."

"Liar", Sylvie barks, and increases the pressure on the knife. "Tell me who sent you here before I cut your tongue out and feed it to the cats."

It's at this moment that Loki decides he has to intervene before the situation escalates to unnecessary murder.

"Sylvie, Sylvie, honey", he coos, slowly guiding her away with a gentle touch to her shoulders. "This lovely woman is not the friend I was expecting." He pushes her inside the house, at a safe distance from the lady, before throwing a charming smile in her direction. "I am so sorry. My friend was supposed to visit, I asked my wife to help me play a prank on her. She thought it was you. It's all a giant misunderstanding. Allow me to apologize profusely on behalf of my wife."

Sylvie switches between glaring at the lady and at her "husband".

The lady laughs nervously. "It's quite alright."

Loki extends his hand. "Hi, I'm Loki." He wraps his other arm around Sylvie's waist to pull her close. She tenses, and for a moment he thinks the knife will end up aimed at his throat, but she relaxes a little and gives the neighbor a tiny smile. "And this is my wonderful wife, Sylvie."

The lady shakes his hand. "I'm Agnes. So nice to meet you. Where are you from? Low-key, that sounds Nordic. Are you from Norway?"

"No."

"Yes."

They answer at the same time, then glare at each other, as if their answer was the only acceptable one.

Loki rushes to fix it before Agnes gets suspicious. "What my wife means is, we are from Norway originally, but we moved here from Alabama."

Agnes smiles. "That's a long way from home. Welcome to the neighborhood."

---

Sylvie erupts the moment the neighbor leaves and their doors are closed. "Why the bloody hell are we playing along with this ruse?"

Loki looks at her seriously. "What is the alternative? Murder our way out of here? Slaughter an entire innocent town?"

"No, no, no no." She paces till she is standing directly in front of him, holding her chin up in a posture of challenge. "Why slaughter a town when you can rule it, right?"

He lets out a sigh. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, he takes in a deep breath. He needs all the strength in the world to reason with her. He opens his eyes again and begins. "We don't know how we got here. We don't know what dangers are here. We can't plan an escape like that. We need to gather information and learn everything we can about this place."

"This place is clearly hell", she roars, letting out a scream that shoots a wave of energy out of her hands and shatters the coffee table.

"Perfect", he mutters under his breath, as he picks up the mop.

---

"I'm hungry." She announces after an hour of sitting on the sofa, sulking, while going through the hundred different channels and trying to pick even a single thing worth watching.

"Oh yes, me too." He agrees quickly. "Starving, actually."

She motions at the cell phones on the table that the house came with. "I suppose we should order something like humans do."

"Yes, of course." He nods in agreement. He picks up the phone closest to him, swipes up the screen, and sees the wallpaper of him and Sylvie, on a beach, hand in hand, in matching Hawaiin shirts, with matching grins on their faces. He knows this isn't real, this has never actually happened to them, but it makes him smile anyway. Swiping to the side, he notices the phone comes with too many games. There are also apps that he knows from advertisements. Opening one that promised good food in no time, he stares blankly at the incoherent list that pops up.

She gets impatient after a few minutes. "Well?"

He purses his lips. It's difficult to admit defeat. "I don't actually know how to order."

She blinks in disbelief. "What?"

"I don't know how to order food." He repeats.

"How can you not know how to order food?"

"Well, I've never had to do it myself." He says, irritated, before his tone turns boastful. "I've always had someone do it for me." Food was never even a concern in Asgard. On earth, he has always had some human gladly do it for him. No God would ever bother with the trivial details of food ordering.

"Lucky you." She says dryly, before snatching the phone out of his hands. She pauses to look at the wallpaper as well, at the waves and the sand and the two happy people that represent a life that they can have if they choose to. Before the thought can take its root in her mind, she quickly focuses on ordering.

He stares at her in awe. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"I didn't exactly grow up in an Asgardian palace." She rolls her eyes. "I had jobs, Loki. I know how to look after myself."

"I am so glad I'm stuck here with you." He says with a grin. "It makes everything easier."

"It's not that easy. We still need to pay for the food." She points out. Then a horrifying thought occurs to her. "Do we even have money?"

He wants to point out he can just conjure some, but before the words can form in his mouth, she rushes to the kitchen, rummaging through the drawers. He follows, and opens the refrigerator, staring at the inside of the freezer.

"People don't keep cash in the freezer, Loki."

"I knew that." He lies.

She switches to the bedroom, and he follows her there as well. She looks through the dresser drawer, the wardrobe, and searches under the pillow. He looks under the bed.

"Look at us. Searching for money to buy food with. What a shame." He muses out loud. "Mortals used to offer food to Gods."

"Food and virgins." She spits the words out angrily. "I hate these archaic ways."

"Oh, me too, me too." He pretends to agree. He likes being worshipped. He likes the food and the offerings. The virgins? Well, he took virgins in a very different, very alive way, and they were all very willing.

"I don't think we have money in this house." She announces, sitting down on the bed with a huff. "Is this his masterplan? Make us starve to death?"

"Allow me." He snaps his fingers, and wads of cash appears in her hands. This is what he was going to do before Sylvie started searching and he decided it's best to first find out what useful items they have in this house.

"That's handy", she notes. "I suppose it'll be easy for you to do chores around the house."

"I don't do chores." He declares.

She glares at him.

"I don't know how to do chores." He clarifies.

Her glare never loses its edge. "Well you better figure it out soon then, before I cut your fingers off."

---

They eat in complete silence, adjusting to this new reality they have found themselves in. Loki tries to make conversation, tries to tell her a story of banquets in Asgard, but she stares absent-mindedly into the distance, and he takes the hint.

Night arrives quickly.

"I'm exhausted. We should sleep." Sylvie admits. She gets up, ready to change into something more comfortable for the night.

He gets up too, and heads in the direction of the other bedroom. Of course, all he wants to do is snuggle up close to her. He can think of a hundred excuses to talk her into it too. But he holds back. "Well, I wish you a very merry slumber."

She doesn't want to focus on why she does it, but she calls out to him. "We should stick together. Just in case the enemy decides to attack while we're asleep."

He stops in his tracks, smiling like a fool. "I agree. Clever plan."

Ten minutes later, they are both awkwardly lying side by side in bed.

Sylvie stares at the ceiling, at the glow-in-the-dark stickers that are shining. "Is that what people's ceilings look like?"

"Mostly children's."

"The constellations..." She notices. "They're slightly different."

"Yes." He smiles. "This is the view from Midgard, not Asgard."

"Oh."

It's quiet for a while. Loki wonders if she fell asleep. Then he hears her whisper. "I hate this."

"Why are you suddenly acting like this?" He finally asks. "You have been patient your whole life, planning everything for years. You always have a plan, and a good one. Now you're suddenly in a rush to get out of here. Why?"

She doesn't answer. She doesn't even open her eyes. With her focus on the darkness behind her eyelids, it is easy to forget that this is the most peaceful evening she has ever had, that this is the life she always wanted, the life she has been fighting for.

He studies her features, memorizing the way she looks when she tries to fall asleep. Tentatively, he touches her hand. Her fingertips twitch involuntarily, before she responds by taking his hand. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get out of here, I promise you."

---

(To be continued)

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

❥ 𝓗𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓐𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓪

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐻𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠! 𝐽𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑢𝑛ℎ𝑜 × 𝐴𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝑭𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚/𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒌 𝑴𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝑨𝑼

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 11.2𝑲

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉, 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒐𝒏.

“𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑓 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟….

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑚 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑟.”- 𝑈𝑛𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

The young woman panted softly, her soft [insert color] locks flowing behind her head, as free and wild as she was. Although her body was already aching and desperately crying out for her to stop, she pushed on even further. Her legs continued running, she felt an intense burn rip through them but she didn't care at all. Her gaze was fixed on the orchid tree just a few meters in front of her, the object she used as her finishing line. With a loud grunt she pressed herself forward, nearly loosing her footing but eventually touching the trunk of it. Raspy breaths came out of her mouth, she inhaled and exhaled deeply, nonetheless a satisfied smile was spread across her countenance, proud that she didn't give up this time, that she was able to break past her limit and endure much more.

Dusting the dirt off her tunic, she picked up her container of water, quickly taking a long gulp from it before starting her journey back home. The sun was already starting to set and would probably have completely gone down by the time she got back, but she didn't mind. She felt satisfaction knowing she did something useful and that would maybe benefit her in the future. Standing in front of the tall gated doors, the guards posted at each end took one look at her before bowing their heads to her in respect. The doors were immediately opened and she stepped inside into a grandiose hall of the palace. Red and gold silk drapes were hung on each of the windows that allowed one to look out into the courtyard which was most commonly used by the royal women to walk about and chatter while their husbands were inside discussing political affairs or training out in the sparring hall. She could probably guess that her father was probably in his study room, pouring over documents, studying them intently and making sure they were all correct.

As she was making her way towards her room, she heard the sound of tiny giggling and high pitched voices rounding the corner she was just about to take. One of the girls stumbled into her as she was not paying attention to what was ahead of her, instead busy chatting with her friend next to her. But she wasn't surprised, after all, she knew her cousin Ariadne better than anyone else, never watching where she was going.

"Oh! Y/N. Didn't see you there." She gave her usual apology she did to almost anyone she crossed paths with that resulted in disaster.

Her friend next to her properly bowed to Y/N. Just cause she was privileged enough to be friends with the princess' cousin and member of the royal family, it did not mean they were equal in any way or form.

"You really should look ahead of you sometimes."

Y/N walked past both of them to go to her bed chamber, not missing at all the strange glances both girls gave her nor was blind to the way they peered at her athlete tunic as if they were horrified at what they saw. Y/N was used to it by now, she had accepted a long time ago that she was vastly different from all the girls her age in Greece.

For starters, not only was she the princess but she was the only heir her father had. Although her father was disappointed at never acquiring a male heir, especially after the death of his beloved wife, he decided to make the best of his situation, in this case, it meant preparing his daughter and having her properly educated in governmental affairs and politics, even against the advice of all his council men.

"My daughter will be able to do anything a male can do and better!" He always stated, and he was always proud to show his prized possession off.

He especially loved to boast about one thing in particular: her athleticism. Ever since she was young, she had already demonstrated an incredible strength and agility that immediately put her to be trained alongside other boys her age or older in the academy for future athletes. Her specialty was running, and she truly did love it. The rush flowing through her body, the pumping of her heartbeat, it was all worth it. She never cared that court officials would look at her weird or the ladies of the palace, including her own relatives, would often scoff or sneer at her rather 'unfeminine' appearance. That didn't matter to her at all.

"I am Y/N, I am me, and I'm happy of who I am."

She repeated what she often said in front of her mirror every night like a ritual before going to bed, her limbs exhausted after the long hours of training she put herself through. She did not actually have to train, it's not like she could actually compete in any Olympics or games the country held every year. But she kept pushing forward, knowing one day she'd have a reason to be running, she did not know what it was, but she could feel it.

Something big was going to come.

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

"Too slow shortie."

Y/N grunted when her arch rival swiftly passed her on the track, a smug smile tugged on the corners of his lips. Wanting a take the smirk off, she pushed herself forward, wanting to catch up to him. She was a mere arm span away from him, which actually surprised him. She thrusted herself forward, but her ankle accidentally bent sideways, causing her to lose her balance and fall onto the floor. The golden haired man in front of her couldn't help himself as he stopped running and actually doubled over in laughter.

"Stop it Leon." She glared at him before inspecting her ankle to make sure there wasn't any serious damage to it.

"Or what? Will you ask your father to behead me?" He continued his teasing.

Not wanting to hear his annoying voice anymore, she quickly stood up and decided to just go find somewhere else to run instead of the track field. As she was leaving, Leon called out to her.

"Just give up Y/N! I'm the best runner in all of Greece! You'll never be able to beat me."

Y/N halted her steps, whipping her head towards him. He snickered at her attempt to intimidate him.

"What? Do you really believe you can beat me at least once?"

Y/N walked back over to him, looking up at him straight in the face.

"I don't believe. I will beat you one day and will make you regret all your words." She flashed him an icy smile.

"The day you beat me in a race is the day I'll die. I'll never allow myself to lose to a girl. " He firmly said.

Y/N lifted her hand up, unable to resist the urge to swing at him just once, but unfortunately a voice called out to her before she could even make contact with Leon.

"Y/N. You're needed back at the palace." The voice of her mentor and trainer, Milos, was sent to fetch her.

"Better run along now princess. It's time for your embroidery lessons." Leon winked at her before resuming his morning run.

Y/N angrily made her way to her mentor, who as usual had a small smile on his face.

"Morning to you my lady." He greeted her, extending a towel out to her

"Oh shut up. You distracted me from giving him a proper beating." She huffed as she yanked the towel away from him and draped it across her shoulders.

Milos let out a soft chuckle as he accompanied her back into the palace, leading her straight into her father's study room. Her father immediately stood up when he saw her.

"My beautiful daughter." He embraced her tightly, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Looking at her disheveled hair, glowing skin and red cheeks, he could guess where she had been.

"Did you have a good run today?" He was always curious about her progress.

Y/N immediately nodded.

"Good. Good."

Her father looked back at Milos before gesturing for him to allow them privacy. Once they were alone, her father suddenly got a grim look on his face.

"Y/N .....there has been much tension in these past council meetings."

Y/N guessed there was probably trouble. For the past month, her father refused to let any word slip out from his lips to her, which was unusual since he'd tell her all about them and sometimes even allowed her to join in on some of them so she could gain experience. Was she finally going to know what was going on?

Her father took her hands in his own.

"We have to talk about the future of the kingdom..."

Y/N felt a slight pang of fear as he said that. She always thought that the day they had the conversations she'd be thrilled, but deep down she knew there was something else going on.

"I tried, for years I've tried so hard to convince them to accept you as my heir, to allow you to rule our kingdom, put their faith in you as I have in you.."

Her heart was warmed everytime her father reassured his pride and confidence in trusting an entire kingdom to her.

"But they're not as open to the idea as I am. .... I fear it could turn into a civil war."

They both stood silent and grim. A civil war would be extremely devastating for the country, not to mention that it could last for years, innocent people would be slaughtered and the country could be divided by the end of it. Y/N understood the severity of it.

"So what am I to do?"

Although Y/N was ready to accept whatever her father asked of her, she was not prepared for what he said next.

"Y/N it's time for you to get married."

Her heart dropped at his words. Her hand went behind her body, steadying on the table behind her so she wouldn't fall. She took a deep breath just as she learned to do to calm her panic before a race. Only this time it didn't seem to work.

"Y/N, I promise it won't be that bad."

But that wasn't very reassuring. Y/N knew what it would implicate. She'd have to be behing someone for the rest of her life, be forced to live an idle life where she'd just sit there, look pretty and bear as many children as she could.....

She'd have to give up running.

"No! I can't do that!" She shook her head, unwilling to follow through what was expected of her.

Of course her father expected this reaction from her.

"Y/N please try to understand my position. It must be this way. There is no alternative."

Not wanting to listen to his words anymore, Y/N rushed out of the room, heading straight over to her room. Locking the door behind her, she flopped onto her bed, burying her face into one of her pillows so it could muffle the screams she was releasing.

She just couldn't allow this to happen.

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

"You're acting as if you're being sold off into slavery." Milos told her during her philosophy lesson.

Y/N looked up from her book, scowling at the middle aged man in front of her.

"You wouldn't understand cause you're a man."

He frowned slightly at her words but ultimately decided not to take it personal. He understood that this was a rather difficult position for her, something she never really wanted.

"Do you wish to suspend our lesson for today then?" He offered.

"And do what?" She groaned as her fingers massaged the sides of her head.

Not missing an opportunity to poke fun at his pupil, he taunted her.

"I could teach you how to crochet a nice tablecloth."

Y/N picked up her book and held it over her head, making a gesture as if she was going to throw it at him.

"I see you've already forgotten the proper way technique for shot put."

She quickly put the book down.

"It doesn't matter. None of it will matter after all. I'm destined to become a royal baby maker while my future husband rules over the empire my father and his ancestors worked so hard to build." Y/N couldn't help but lament over her situation.

"Cheer up child. There's got to be some good thing in this whole business. And if there isn't, well then....make something good out of it."

She shook her head.

"Not even all the marriage proposals that have come from other royal families seem to appease the advisors or council men. What? Do they not want to sort through papers and decide which candidate is the best option?"

"The problem with so many proposals is that it could cause dissension within the nation. You see, they can't pick one person or the other without offending all the ones that were turned down, which would cause us to loose allies and gain enemies. So of course it'll be a matter of great worry to them." Milos explained as he began rolling up the scrolls on the table.

Y/N's head started to pound against her skull as she thought about all the inconveniences her getting married would bring.

"Then why not just let me remain single? Besides, unlike all the other girls in the kingdom, I was never taught to embroider, sew, dance, play an instrument and much less style myself in the elegant and feminine fashions. It's not like I have anything to offer all these men except my throne, which should rightly belong to only me..."

Although she whispered that last part, Milos heard her very clearly. He too found it unfair that Y/N had to be stripped away from her rightful claim on the throne only due to the fact that she was born with an unfortunate yet lovely pair of breasts. He wished to find a way to comfort her. Having seen her grow up, he had become rather fond of her and almost thought of her as his own child, after all, he was the one mostly responsible for her upbringing and education. It pained him so to watch her grief and felt in utter despair that there was nothing he could do to change the destiny she was expected to lead.

Until an idea popped in his head.

"Y/N. What if you propose to marry on your own terms?"

Lifting her gaze up, she raised an eyebrow.

"Do tell me what'd those terms would be, because honestly, anything I suggest would fall on deaf ears."

Taking small steps until he stood right next to her chair, Milos placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"What about suggesting a race?"

Seeing the mischievous twinkle in his eye, now her curiosity was peaked.

"Think about it Y/N: you have all these marriage proposals lined up and they must decide on only one. Why not give yourself to the man that can outrun you? It would not only appeal to the public for entertainment, and would be a fair way to settle on a match, but it would buy you time as well. After all, how many men in all of Greece could actually outrun our dear Atalanta?"

She felt a surge of encouragement and hope after he not only found a momentary solution, but she enjoyed being called by her athlete name that he had given her long ago. Unable to contain her joy, she sprung up from her chair and embraced the man in front of her.

"Thank you Milos! Thank you thank you thank you." She squealed.

"All right all right child! No need to strangle me for it. Why don't you run along and tell your father? I'm sure he'd be pleased with the idea just as much as you."

Heeding his advice, Y/N swiftly exited the room, a stack of papers falling behind her and onto the floor from how fast she sped past them. Milos could only chuckle as he bent down to pick them up.

"A truly extraordinary girl."

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

The crowd were already all in an uproar of enthusiasm at King Iasus' words that echoed throughout the entire stadium.

"My fellow and loyal people. As you all know, my daughter, the precious gem in all of Arcadia, is finally of age and must of course, like all women in our beloved country, be married to an excellent suitor that must be worthy of her."

Resisting the urge to slump back in the chair, Y/N straightened her posture and kept her hands folded on her lap as she tried to calm her nerves. It wasn't the first time she had accompanied her father to admonish the people, but it was the first time she felt uncomfortable with her attire. All her life she had either stuck to the short athletes tunics she owned, or if her father absolutely insisted on her wearing something below her knees, she'd just wear a loose and plain beige or brown tunic. Now she was wearing an emerald green dress with golden lining on the hems, a similar colored sash was draped across her chest that was pinned to the butterfly style sleeves with large gold pins that had jade crystals adorned on the edges. Her female attendants had spent the majority of the morning crimping her hair into loose curls that were then styled in an elegant half updo, secured with a flower shaped pins that were sticking into her head in the most uncomfortable way. She felt so out of place and in her head she could already imagine all the people that were mocking or laughing at her appearance. She hardly focused on the words her father was saying until he reached the part that really interested her.

"After much discussion, we have concluded that the best way to decided is by means of a race."

A collective gasp resonated through the Colosseum, many heads turning to the one next to them, no doubt asking if they heard correctly.

"Yes it is true. Princess Atalanta, and my kingdom, will be given to the man that can outrun her in a race. Not only is this a perfect way to be fair, but it would provide much enthusiasm and joy for my dear subjects."

An applause that started small soon turned into a thunderous roar of hands clapping in approval for their king's speech. Y/N was beaming, she couldn't contain the smile on her face. It seemed as though everything was playing out perfectly for her. Once it was seen that no man could outrun her, they'd have no choice but to name her their rightful heir.

"And........" Her father paused for a dramatic effect.

"I'm happy to let you know that the first race will actually be held in one month's time."

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at that. So soon? No one had told her about that part. The crowd was already hooked, waiting to hear more details on the matter.

"Our first competitor has actually presented himself already and it is none other than our prized champion, Leon of Mantinea!"

The applause and cheers of the crowd suddenly went silent in Y/N's ears. All she could hear now was her labored breathing and the thumping of her heart. She felt it difficult to breathe, as if she had suddenly sprinted out running without properly preparing and her body was now desperately begging for air. Her head began spinning, her vision becoming blurry as she could no longer distinguish any but one face in the entire crowd...

Leon, who was actually looking straight at her with a triumphant smirk that nearly had her doubling over, threatening to make her vomit her breakfast that she had a couple hours ago. For the first time in her life, she felt a tremendous fear that she had not felt anytime else.

As soon as the ceremony was over, she was dashing out of the stadium, nearly tripping on the long train of her damned dress. It clung so tightly on her waist and hips that no matter how hard she tried, it can nearly impossible to run in it.

"Don't you look lovely for once."

She recognized that tone of mockery before even turning to see the face it belonged to. She just tried so keep walking, not wanting to have Leon stare down at her when she was in such an agitated state, unfortunately for her, within seconds he was already in front of her, blocking her path of escape.

"Move aside Leon." She ordered in a harsh tone, but it did nothing to deter him.

"Are you asking me as the princess or as a runner?" He sneered at her.

"I'm not in the mood to hear any bullshit that'll come out of your mouth."

She tried pushing past him, but he grabbed her arm, forcing her to stay put as he looked deep in her eyes.

"Get used to the idea that you'll be hearing my sweet voice every day after our race. When you wake up next to me and when you lie down next to me..."

He couldn't help himself as his eyes raked her body up and down, making Y/N cringe at the filthy thoughts that were swirling inside his evil little mind.

"You can't outrun your destiny Atalanta, and you most certainly can't outrun me. So in the end, you're going to become my bride...."

She let out a soft grunt when he pulled her closer against him, their chests practically touching as his breath hovered above her lips.

"And I'm going to become the next king."

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

"You're pushing yourself too hard Atalanta, slow down."

Milos words fell on dear ears as Y/N only picked up her speed, pushing forward until she was a few meters away from the finish line, but her legs went limp from exhaustion at having ran nonstop for the past 2 hours. Y/N squatted down, hands clutching her chest as she tried to regain her breathing. Milos shook his head at her state. Walking up to her with a jug of water, he gently poured some of the cold water onto her back and head.

Can't...slow down....must...win-" Y/N coughed slightly, unable to form any more words.

"You're pushing yourself too much and with all this stress you're enduring, it'll only serve to weigh you down even further at the actual race."

Helping to her to her feet, he extended the jug out to her so that she won't get dehydrated from lack of water. Hastily, Y/N gulped the water down, some of it trickling down her chin and neck. Against her will, she allowed Milos to guide her to a nearby stone bench for her to sit on. She looked at the ground, not wanting to say anything. Milos was the first one to speak up.

"Forgive me for asking this, but have you ever actually beaten Leon in a match?"

Y/N thought long and hard before answering.

"Once...almost."

He shook his head.

"Almost will make you a bride. That's the reality you must accept."

"I don't want to talk about reality or accepting it. I just need to practice harder. I only have a month to train."

She got up, ready to start running her laps again, but Milos stopped her.

"Y/N....the month for training wasn't for Leon...it was for you and it wasn't so you could run..."

When he paused longer than she liked, she gestured for him to speak up.

"It's to train you to become a wife. Learn to behave as a women and learn all the proper things a lady must learn."

No sooner he finished his sentence, she turned, already sauntering off into the field, quickly gaining momentum as she began running away, back to the flower fields she so often visited and ran off to.

"Y/N! Be reasonable! You cannot run from this forever!"

But that was exactly what she was planning to do, even if it costed her everything.

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

On the morning of the race, she was astonished by the amount of people that had come to watch. People pushed against the barriers intended to keep them off the track, wanting to get a better look at the runners. Milos shook his head at how ferocious the people could get.

"All they ever care about is a good spectacle..no matter how tragic it can end."

Y/N turned her face at his words.

"Thank you for reminding me that you have no faith in me."

Milos was about to speak up and say that he didn't mean it for her, but remembering that he was forbidden from telling her anything, he just kept quiet and silently prayed it would all be over soon. When Leon finally showed up, everyone began cheering, already convinced that he would end up winning and becoming their new king. None of them noticed that he had lost a bit of muscle, his face looked somewhat thinner than usual and it seemed he and his friends had done an early celebration the night before which could explain why he wobbled at times.

Y/N most definitely didn't notice, her nerves shooting up and down as she tried to mentally brace herself for the race that would ultimately decide her future. Thankfully, her trusted mentor escorted her to the starting line, patting her shoulders occasionally.

"Remember all that I've taught you. Stand up straight and don't look scared. Don't let them see your fear. Walk with dignity, even if you're trembling on the inside."

After muttering a small hymn, Milos finally retreated back to watch and monitor the race. Leon took his place next to her, wearing that daily smirk he always had. As she crouched at the start, Y/N closed her eyes and did the first thing she was taught: drown out all distractions, and only look ahead of you. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of the sun baked dust underneath her feet. She waited for the horn to signal the start. Once it blared all over, she immediately opened her eyes and sprinted forward. Her start was rather well, but her opponents was even better as he sprinted with full speed ahead of her. Y/N was tempted to increase her speed, but then Milos words came into her head:

"Don't waste all your energy at the start. Save it for the end. Let your opponent tire themselves out first, then you can use that reserved energy to quickly bypass them and defeat them."

Y/N decided to follow through on that, essentially since they had to run 3 laps around the track. She watched as Leon quickly made it to the turning post, his eyes mocking her when he went past her. Y/N had an advantage at the post, due to the fact she was lighter, she could easily reverse in direction and pick up seconds into her time. Soon enough, the gap between them both narrowed, and the crowd was now adamantly watching to see what the outcome would be. Noticing that her rival seemed to be slowing down after starting the second lap, Y/N viewed it as an opportunity and began to slowly increase her speed, holding back the urge to go at her full potential. Almost by the end of the second lap, she was already running next to Leon, who upon seeing her, had a panicked look on his face. When they both rounded the final post, Y/N swiftly got ahead of him.

Now the crowd became extremely quiet, not knowing exactly how this race was going to end. Sensing that he needed to do something, Leon sped past Y/N, although his steps were somewhat wobbly. Y/N decided this was it, pushing past her comfort zone and tired state, she ran even faster, somehow not feeling any pain. Instead her body seemed to move by itself, adjusting and keeping its balance.

She passed Leon, and the crowd let out a gasp. He tried to push even further, but found he had no energy left. His breaths came in pained groans as he lost his footing and stumbled forward onto the track, unconsciously helping propell Y/N across the finish line.

As Y/N panted, she realized she had won. Although she wanted to smile, she could feel that something was off about her victory, especially given the fact that the crowd was not cheering and instead had looks of pain and anguish in their countenances. And even more puzzling was the fact that Milos didn't come to support her, as it was customary for the trainers to do for the winners. No one approached her. Instead two guards came over, but not to her, instead they helped Leon to his feet. His face looked disdained and his eyes now looked lifeless as he stared at the ground in shame.

Her father came forward in the royal box, a serious look on his face.

"What's going on?" She asked Milos when he finally came up to her, his arms placing themselves around her, not in a comforting or congratulating way, but instead, it felt as if he was trying to confine her, keep her from moving or running.

"You all who have gathered here know very well the conditions that were made for the race. It was a race to marriage..."

Milos tightened his grip on Y/N, serving to worry her even more.

"Or to death."

When she heard those words, she whipped her head to Milos.

"Wait! What does he mean-"

She had no time to ask as she witnessed in horror as one of the guards held Leon in place while the other drew his sword out.

"No! No!"

Y/N struggled to get free from her trainer's arms, but he held onto her that she had no opportunity to move.

She watched helplessly as Leon was slain right before her eyes, his blood pouring out into the sand. ...

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

Y/N stormed into her room, Milos trailing right behind her.

"Y/N-"

"Why didn't you tell me?!" She accused him.

He sighed.

"I was forbidden from letting you know about that. Your father knew you would have never raced had you known about the death penalty."

"Of course I wouldn't! I hated Leon but I never wished for him to die! Why would my father make up that condition?" Her arms flailed all over the air in frustration.

"Leon himself suggested it..."

Y/N couldn't believe his words.

"No...why would-"

"Think of his upbringing Y/N. He was the prized champion runner in all Arcadia. It was a matter of pride. How could he have lived with the fact he was beaten in a race by a girl? He would have much rather died than live with that shame."

Recalling what he once said to her, Y/N slumped into her chair, elbows resting on her knees as her hands supported her head.

"Leon....why would you do that...stupid stupid boy.."

Wanting to comfort her, but knowing she'd reject his touch, Milos decided to leave her alone.

"Just so you know, there's already 3 more competitors lined up to race against you. The conditions still apply to them."

"I won't do it. I refuse to race against them and send them to their deaths." Y/N adamantly refused, she would not be deterred from her resolution.

"You have no say in this matter anymore Y/N....

You're a woman and you do not dictate conditions." He said before shutting the door behind him.

Y/N felt the rage coursing through her veins. She hated being reminded that she had no power, that she'd forever be chained to obey as all men ordered her to. She was angry at everyone. Her father, Milos, Leon, the advisors, the people who watched a man get murdered just for entertainment, it was all sickening and most of all, she was angry at herself. Angry that she could do nothing about it, and even more furious at the suitors who still decided to run against her, knowing fully well there'd be no chance of outrunning her.

She stood up and walked over to her mirror. This time, she did not repeat her usual chant. Instead, she said a different thing.

"If I must keep running away from my destiny, so be it...."

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

In less than 2 months, Y/N had raced against 9 other competitors, all slain at the end of each race. She no longer shrinked back in fear, she had gotten so used to seeing them die before her eyes, she felt as if she was just like their lifeless bodies on the ground. The crowds seemed to enjoy it though. It had seemed to be now a killing fest rather than a race, and she was tired of it.

That's why she had now retreated into the top of one of the hills a few miles away from the palace. She sat by an apple tree, looking out at the sun that was starting to set. Hues of red, orange, yellow and pinks adorned the sky and at the very top, she could already see a few stars peeking out, ready to shine brightly once night set in. No sound was heard except the occasional chirping of a bird passing by or her deep sorrow filled sighs that would often escape her lips. She began to see no point in this. No one even called her by her birth name anymore, instead, everyone could only talk about the female runner Atalanta, even forgetting that she was the princess and these races were not for amusement or placing useless bets. It was to decide her future, which up to now seemed like it'd be filled with severed heads and split throats. Resting her head on her arms, she closed her eyes.

"It's too beautiful a day to be looking so sad don't you think?"

She jumped to her feet, startled by the voice that spoke behind her. Looking up, she felt astonished when she saw the most beautiful and tall man she had ever seen in her life. His skin was fair and perfectly unblemished, his hair was as dark as a raven's feathers, his eyes very large and dazzled as if they were a pair of rare and exotic gems, but the most captivating feature on him had to be his smile that seemed to radiate warmth and sunshine. He definitely wasn't from there or any other province nearby. He had a beauty that screamed he was from the northern countries.

"I'm sorry if I scared you. Forgive me, it was definitely not my intention." He bowed in an apologetic form, arm crossed over his stomach as he did so.

"I'm Yunho by the way, Yunho from Thessaly."

She debated whether to reveal her identity or not, especially to a stranger from the North.

"I'm Y/N." She opted for the safer choice, refusing to utter the name that would no doubt reveal who she really was.

Tilting his head to the side, he gave her a curious gaze.

"Y/N.....? Pretty name."

She blushed slightly at his words. Noticing the small pouch he was carrying, she pointed at it.

"Are you traveling here on foot?"

He seemed a little caught off guard but nonetheless didn't loose his enthusiasm.

"Kinda, not really. I left my horse back at the inn and decided to go explore these beautiful fields and mountains....."

He looked back at her, unable to suppress a smile.

"And the scenery definitely wasn't disappointing."

Y/N smoothed out the fabric of her tunic as she cleared her throat.

"Do tell me, what brings someone like you all the way to Arcadia?"

Yunho's friendly smile turned into a more mischievous one.

"Well I'm actually here on a little personal mission. You see, there's been a rumor that reached Thessaly saying how there's a young princess here who has offered herself and her kingdom in marriage to the man who can outrun her in a race. If he loses, he must be put to death. Supposedly her name is Atalanta."

Her heart stopped for a moment. She dreaded the topic and she was even more scared to think that this handsome man might actually ask to race against her.

"I came to find out if the rumor is true. Have you heard of her?"

Y/N nodded her head, which seemed to delight Yunho.

"Then is it all true?!"

"No! It's not true! She didn't offer herself and none of it was her idea. The first challenger was the one who proposed the idea of death be given to the loser.."

Yunho stayed very quiet as he heard her speak, studying her profile intently. Feeling somewhat embarrased that she spoke too much, she decided to fix it.

"I mean....everyone around here knows that."

Yunho nodded his head, but he still kept his gaze on the woman in front of him. His eyes looked her up and down in an unusual way, as if trying to figure something out.

"With such high stakes it really makes one wonder why the runners keep trying for her? If no one has even come close to beating her, why risk their lives for it?"

It was the exact question she had asked herself a million times yet could find no reasonable explanation. All she could do was look at the green grass underneath her, her foot swaying around occasionally. She failed to notice the fond and loving look Yunho was giving her.

"She must be very beautiful."

Her head jerked up at his words, a satisfied smile on his face.

"I see no other reason. She must be extremely beautiful if athletes from all over are risking their lives to just to have her hand in marriage."

"Or maybe they don't believe they'll lose to a girl... it's foolish really."

Yunho frowned slightly before nodding.

"I agree with you on that part. It's foolish indeed to risk their lives over a race or a woman."

Picking out a leaf from one of the branches above him, he studied it carefully before letting it fall to the ground.

"Life is too precious to be gambled away like that. The gods gave us the gift of life for a reason. It's truly ungrateful to repay their kindness in such a way."

Y/N felt a wave of relief when he said that. At least she wouldn't have to worry about racing him at all.

"Either way, I'd like to observe just one race while I'm here. I'm very curious to see just how fast she is..."

He paused as he scanned Y/N's face, which was now more illuminated by the ray of light peeking out from the mountain behind them.

"And to see what is it about her that make men so crazy."

Feeling a breeze pass by her, she remembered it was getting late and she had to be back in the palace before it got dark.

"I have to go home now. I hope you enjoy your stay here."

She quickly brushed past him and Yunho couldn't help but watch her as she left.

"Goodbye Y/N!" He waved at her, which she happily returned before walking away.

Y/N waited until she felt he was no longer watching her to finally let loose and run straight back to the palace, but he did notice. He also didn't fail to notice that not only was she wearing a rather short tunic that showed off her rather toned and muscly legs, but the tunic was made of the most fine linen there was available. Chuckling to himself he began his own walk down the hill.

"I think I know now..."

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

Walking into the library where she was scheduled for her morning studies, she was puzzled as to why Milos wasn't there but instead left a note telling her she was to go see her father in the track field. She suddenly felt uneasy.

'What if he decided to cancel the races?' 'What if he had to tell her some bad news?'

Her mind kept thinking about all the endless scenarios that could possibly happen, but the reality was something she definitely did not expect. She saw her father talking to someone, she couldn't quite make out who it was since the person had his back to her. When her father caught glimpse of her, his face shone brightly.

"Ahhh there is my treasured jewel! Atalanta, sweetheart. Come meet Prince Hippomenes. He's visiting us from Thessaly."

When he finally turned around, she was shocked to see none other than Yunho in front of her, still donning that cursed smile on his face. He didn't seem surprised at all when he saw her, his look was more on the amusing side.

"Pleasure to meet the most talked about princess in the land."

She had no time to react and frankly, did not know how to react when he suddenly took a hold of her hand and placed a kiss on the top of it, his eyes looking straight at her as he did, even sending a subtle wink to her that made her legs feel weak as if she had just run a 10 kilometer race.

"I was hoping to meet you. My father, mother, siblings and frankly, all Thessaly have been wanting to know about you, so I offered myself to come meet you."

Y/N still made no move to talk, frankly she was kind of upset at him. Noticing the tense air, her father knew he needed to suggest something quick.

"My dear, why not give our guest a tour of the track and tell him all about the races you've run? I have to go talk to the council about some commercial business that can't be held off much longer."

Kissing his daughter's cheek, he excused himself and left the two familiar strangers alone. She crossed her arms, now fully glaring at the male in front of her, who was confused at her cold treatment.

"What?" He asked .

"You lied to me!"

He held up a hand at her accusation.

"Actually, I did not lie. My birth name is indeed Yunho, but obviously my royal name is a different story. And I did come here to learn about the great fame you made for yourself."

Unable to help himself, he suddenly leaned in, his tall figure looming over hers as he smirked at her.

"And truthfully, do you have any room to talk? You concealed your identity just as I did."

She wanted to say something back but knew it was pointless since he was right.

"When did you find out?" She had to know.

"Last night. You're not very good at hiding things you know."

She frowned and was considering walking away, but Yunho seemed determined not to let her go just yet.

"So.....this is where your story unfolds.."

He looked around at the track, observing every square inch of it, his feet kicking softly at the dirt underneath him.

"Yeah....."

He noticed the sad look as she gazed at a specific corner in the field, her eyes seeming to be somewhere else instead of there. Yunho could only guess what she was thinking of. Not caring if it was improper, he placed his hands on the top of her shoulders, lightly rubbing the sides of them.

"You know....it's not your fault. You have your race to run.....and they had theirs."

He fought back the urge to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against his chest. Y/N felt slightly comforted by his words, but nonetheless couldn't shake the guilt off.

"Maybe it would have been better if I was born a male. I often wish I had been born one."

Yunho shifted awkwardly behind her, but kept a small smile as he whispered in her ear.

"Then I guess I have much to be thankful for. I happen to like your present form very much."

He cleared his throat when she whipped around to face him, suddenly feeling embarrased for his bold words, while she, never been accustomed to men talking complimenting her or talking to her like that.

"Please excuse me.."

Just like the first time they met, she quickly left him standing there, confused and disappointed that their meeting was short.

"I'll see you at the race!"

Either she didn't hear him or purposefully ignored him, but Yunho didn't have it in him to give up.

"I'll be cheering for you, Y/N!"

Briefly, she halted her steps, her head tilting slightly before resuming to walk away once more.

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

The runners ran neck to neck. Y/N felt as if her lungs were being ripped out of her body. This guy proved more of a challenge than Leon ever did, even before the infamous race to death. They were only a few meters away from the finishing line. She felt herself growing weak, her pulse ringing in her ears, her brain thumping against her skull. She tried not to look at her opponent, knowing it'd only serve to distract her and make her loose focus.

Yunho sat next to the other nobles in the very front row, watching with excitement and anxiousness as it almost got to the end.

"Come on Y/N....you can do it."

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her opponent was suddenly going ahead of her by a few inches. Soon enough, his foot would cross the finish line first.

No!!!

Not knowing from where the last burst of energy came from, Y/N pushed her body forward, tumbling forward, but eventually passing through the finishing line first. She fell onto the floor, her elbow and knee scraping against the sandy dirt, but it was nothing compared to the pain she felt in her chest. She heard the crowd roar in applause and cheer for her once again, but she could not join in on the victory. She felt Milos help her to her feet, but once she stood up, her head began spinning, her legs wobbling as if she was a newborn calf learning to walk.

"Y/N? Are you ok?"

She heard her trainer ask, but she couldn't speak, her breathing raspy and hoarse.

"I'm-I'm-"

The crowd gasped and several women began screaming when their beloved runner fell once again to the ground, unconscious and not moving. Not knowing what came over him, Yunho jumped up from his seat and ran over to her, not caring about anyone else.

"Y/N? Y/N?"

He placed a hand across her face, feeling the temperature on her forehead before taking her wrist to check her pulse. Knowing he couldn't waste any time, he effortlessly picked her up and looked over at Milos.

"Have her room ready, bring a basin of cold water in it and make sure all the windows are open."

They wasted no time in heeding his directions. Carefully, he placed Y/N on her soft bed. Grabbing a towel, he soaked it in the icy water before placing it on her forehead. He checked her pulse every now and then, satisfied when it seemed to be returning to a normal pace and freaking out when it suddenly became too low.

"Come on Y/N...don't give up on me. You've fought this long in your life....don't stop now."

Yunho refused any help, not caring that he spent hours by her side, making sure her body stayed cool. He wiped the sweat off his own forehead, exhausted but not wanting to leave her side until he was sure she'd be all right. It was late into the night when his eyes began to close slowly, feeling drowsy after not eating and being agitated for so long. He didn't know exactly when he his head fell on her lap, sleep overtaking him, one hand clutching desperately onto hers.

That's how Y/N awoke to find him. She felt so bad seeing him bent over in such an uncomfortable position, his hair tussled out and his hand still holding onto hers. She felt her heart flutter at the sight. Reaching her hand out, she moved a few of the front part of his hair away, admiring his beautiful features. Feeling her stir, Yunho opened his eyes to find her looking at him, the sunlight making her features look ethereal and almost heavenly.

"Gods in Olympus have mercy on me..." He mumbled softly as he sat up, stretching his arms out and yawning softly.

"What happened?" Y/N asked.

"It seems you got struck by heat stroke which combined with over exerting yourself, you fainted for quiet some time."

Y/N fell back onto her pillow, her hands covering her face.

"How embarrassing! And the entire city saw!"

"Frightening is the word I'd use. They were all worried about you."

Standing up, he sat on the space of the bed next to her and removed her hands away from her face, his eyes boring deep in her soul.

"And frankly I was terrified about anything happening to you..."

Y/N widened her eyes when she saw his face come close to hers, his eyes fixated on her lips. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the side before he could come any closer. Sighing defeatedly, Yunho let go of her hands and pulled away.

"Please take care of yourself. I don't want anything to happen to you."

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

Y/N stormed out of her room, not caring about the the fact she still had to stay in bed, muting the worried voices of her female servants. She asked around until she finally found out where Yunho was and quickly walked as fast as she could to the main courtyard. It took her quite a while to find him, but eventually she saw his tall silhouette admiring some of the sunflowers that were growing in the palace gardens. Fuming, she walked over to him, her feet stomping so hard on the ground that he heard her coming before he saw her. He seemed delighted to see her.

"Afternoon Y/N! Lovely to see you-"

"You can't race against me!" She shouted at him.

He stepped back at her harsh tone, but didn't seem surprised at her reaction.

"So I take it they told you about that." An apologetic smile formed across his lips.

"You can't do this. Take it back!" She demanded, but Yunho wasn't going to budge.

"I can't and I won't Y/N. I have to do this."

"But why?! You yourself said the men who risked their lived for a race were foolish and stupid! So why are you now doing the exact same thing?!"

Yunho ran a hand through his hair, letting out a puff of air as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"You're right about that and I truly still believe they were foolish for risking their lives for a race or even a kingdom..."

He paused as he looked at her before finishing his last sentence.

"But then after meeting you, seeing you.....I understand why they'd be willing to risk their lives just to have you."

Y/N felt a lump get stuck in her throat. She was afraid. Afraid of the way he was looking at her with such admiration and devotion, afraid of actually having to race him, and most of all, afraid of her own growing feelings for him.

"You know you still have a chance. Get out of this while you still can. Once I step foot on that track, I don't have control over myself and I won't let you win." She admonished him.

He merely shrugged.

"Don't go easy on me. Use your full speed."

"Oh my god! Are you even listening to yourself?! You have absolutely no chance! All the men I've raced were trained athletes, the best in all the land! You- you're a prince! You grew up with books, studying philosophy and prepared to rule a country. You've never stepped foot on a track before coming here, you.....you'll die."

She spoke those last words softly, unable to say them above a whisper. Tears began brimming at her eyes, her arms wrapping around her chest in an effort to calm herself and not cry in front of Yunho. Still he said nothing, instead opting to come closer to her, not bothering to stop himself as his large hands wrapped themselves around her waist.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. Don't you get it? I.... I can't get you out of my mind. I have to have you. You're unlike any other woman I've met. You're fearless, strong, independent, and you're a lot smarter than most princesses I've met, even if you are terrible at stitching a flower onto a cloth."

They both let out a tiny chuckle at that.

"Blame my father for prioritizing my education over pricking my fingers on silly needles."

Yunho moved his hands from her waist to cup her cheeks.

"Point is.....I'm attracted to you ok? I want you all to myself as crazy as it sounds...

He bit his lips before uttering the next thing.

"I love you.."

She looked up at him when he said that confession.

"And honestly? I think you feel the same way..."

Before she had time to respond or react, his lips enveloped themselves around hers, capturing and covering her entire mouth in such a passionate and desperate kiss. Against her will, Y/N kissed him back, hands going to the back of his head as the played with the soft black locks he had. She forgot about everything in that sweet moment, the races, the deaths, and almost forgot about a long forgotten fear.

Almost.

Until she suddenly pulled back away from him as if he was death itself.

"No! I can't!"

Seeing her try to run away as usual, Yunho wasn't having it. He grabbed her hand, refusing to let go.

M"Why are you running away from me?! Are you afraid of me? Are you afraid of being married off? Having to give up the freedom that has been granted upon you since you were born?"

Y/N didn't respond. He had hit on the point somewhat. Not all of it, but definitely a reason why she didn't want to marry and kept pushing herself so no one would ever beat her in a race.

"I want you to know....I would never be that kind of husband. I wouldn't force you to stay home, knit, and be bored to death walking in gardens or just bear me children."

Letting go of her hand, he pulled her against his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist as his lips began whispering in her ear.

"I would never dream of taking away your freedom. I'll allow you to keep running as free as you are now. Anything you want to do, I'll allow you to. I just ask you to love me in return. You don't have to be afraid of me."

She couldn't contain her sobs at this point. Lowering her head so he couldn't see her grief stricken face, she finally poured out her feelings.

"It's not just that..... when I was a mere girl, an Oracle once came to reveal prophecies to some members of my family. Being curious, I offered them a gold brooch I had in exchange for telling me something about my future..."

Her eyes closed as she remembered the words the old woman said to her.

"The day you marry, that day will be the end of you."

She sobbed even harder now. Yunho turned her around and embraced her, allowing her to cry in his chest, not caring if it soaked his clothes or not.

"Y/N....perhaps the prophecy meant the end of you in a different way. Perhaps it wouldn't be the end of Y/N.....but the end of Atalanta. Think about it, the day someone beats you, you have to marry him, Atalanta will be no more, instead you'll be Y/N. Just Y/N. Also...... one loses themselves when you truly love someone. The end of something, also creates a new beginning."

Although his words comforted her, she could no longer hear him. The longer she stayed, the more attached she grew to him and the more it'd hurt her to see him lose against her.

"I'm sorry....I can't-"

Yunho let go of her hands and didn't stop her as she ran back towards the palace. He didn't even call out to her and he hoped she wouldn't turn around and see the sad and heartbroken look he had on his countenance for the first time in his life.

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

Y/N walked out into the field wearing a heavy grim on her face, the cheers of the crowd no longer having an effect on her. She felt like she was walking out to her own execution. If Yunho died because of her, she could never live with herself.

"Cheer up child. Perhaps he won't have to die after all." Milos hinted at her.

"He's not an athlete. Even if I use half my speed, he'd still lose."

Milos nodded at her.

"That may be true.........and yet....perhaps he could win who knows? He was gone all night yesterday sacrificing to the gods."

"All the other athletes sacrificed to different gods. To Zeus, to Athena, to Apollo, and look how they all ended up." She retorted.

"Perhaps they were all sacrificing to the wrong one. I can tell you this: Yunho sacrificed to one goddess none of them thought about......"

Y/N looked at him and waited for him to finish.

"Aphrodite."

Her stomach lurched, threatening her to become sick again.

When Yunho finally stepped out, the crowd, more specifically the women, began cheering loudly for him. During his short stay there, he had already attracted a pretty good number of admirers and fans. Some had even made beautiful embroidered banners with his name stitched across it. When he stepped up to her, he had that usual smile of his that always melted her heart.

"Good luck to you Y/N." He took her hand, instead of shaking it though, he placed a kiss on it, causing several 'awws' to emit from the crowd.

Y/N retreated her hand and cleared her throat.

"No offense but your tunic is not very well suited for a race. It'll cause you to loose speed."

Pointing at the odd pouch strapped around his waist, she looked at him for an explanation.

"Good luck charms." He patted the pouch.

Y/N was about to say something, but he stopped her.

"Y/N this might be the last time I ever talk to you let alone see you in this lifetime...so please...don't worry and don't say unkind words.... and let me say just in case that I love you."

He waited for her to say something but she said nothing. They just followed the announcers instructions to get in position.

When the horn blasted, Y/N took off running at the usual speed speed she tended to use at the beginning of a race. Unsurprisingly, Yunho was a long way away from her, a large gap in between them. Y/N rounded the first turn and doubled back and saw him as she was coming back, irked that he seemed to be running as if he had all the time in the world. When she got close to him, he took out something from his pouch and held it in front of her eyes so she could see before tossing it behind her. Unable to comprehend her own actions, she whirled around to fetch the shiny object he had thrown. It had fallen on the dry grass at the edge of the track and picking it up, she noticed it was a golden apple, perfectly smooth, with a stem and leaves that had beautiful and intricate engravings on them. She was so immersed in the apple that she forgot about the race until she heard the crowd cheer. Looking over, Yunho had rounded the first turn and was now coming towards her. She felt disoriented for a second, but eventually got back on the track, running with the apple in her hand, although its weight served only to slow her down.

Just as she was rounding the second turn, she saw another golden apple being rolled in front of her, this time rolling off the track at a greater distance. Once again, she went in pursuit of it, forgetting about the race as she chased after it. This time it was slighty bigger and heavier than the last one, but she was determined to keep it. She stood there, admiring its beauty until the cheers of the crowd snapped her back to reality. She was shocked when she saw Yunho round the last turn.

"Oh no!"

With the apples in her hand, she sprinted forward with all her ability, catching up to him in mere seconds. She was right behind him about to pass him until he looked back at her, flashing a third and even larger golden apple in his hand. Raising it up, he let the sun shine on it before tossing it behind him with incredible force. Y/N backtracked and chased after it. She didn't know what it was that made her go for it, but she just had to have it. She struggled to cram them all into her hands, but she refused to let go of them. She gasped when she saw that Yunho was a few feet away from the finish line. She sped up, apples in hand, sure that even with the added weight and time lost she could beat him, no one was faster than her and no one had beaten her.

She was so close, a hands length away from him when the crowd erupted in thunderous applause and screaming. Y/N looked around in shock as Milos and many of the other nobles began surrounding Yunho, congratulating his victory.

"I.....lost?"

Y/N couldn't comprehend it. How on earth did she just lose? And to someone like Yunho? She was so immersed in her thoughts that she didn't notice he had come up behind her until he swiftly turned her around and kissed her in front of everyone. She was so stunned that she had no time to push him off. When he pulled back, he had the brightest and happiest grin plastered all over.

"My beautiful bride." He cooed at her.

She had so many questions for him but unfortunately she couldn't ask him as her father quickly made his way to them, happily announcing Yunho victorious and declaring that preparations for their wedding would begin immediately. The crowd began to celebrate, happy at the thought of the new royal couple forming and praising all the gods in Olympus.

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

It wasn't until later that night that Y/N finally had time to go see Yunho, who was wandering around in the orchards. She came to him, the golden apples on a small pouch.

"I believe these belong to you."

Y/N slumped them back in his hands, Yunho letting out a soft "oof!" at their weight.

"Actually...they're not mine."

"Either way.....you cheated." She accused him.

"It can't be counted as cheating if it complies with a God's wishes." He counteracted.

"What?" Y/N raised an eyebrow.

Smirking, Yunho picked up one of the golden apples.

"These....are golden apples from Aphrodite's golden tree that grows in her garden."

Y/N widened her eyes at his revelation, making Yunho snicker at her reaction.

"She gave them to me after I sacrificed to her last night. She gave me instructions on how to use them so I'd win the race. No one, not even the prized runner in all Arcadia, could resist their magic."

Her mouth dropped wide open at his explanation.

"You see? They were all sacrificing to the wrong deities." He poked her nose.

Y/N huffed and crossed her arms as she mumbled.

"I still say you cheated."

Yunho laughed slightly at her embittered state.

"Come now my darling Y/N. Don't be so cross with me. Can you really blame me for risking my life just to be able to spend the rest of my life next to you?"

He tilted her chin up, looking into her eyes that captivated and bewitched him more and more as he stared at them.

"Aren't you.....aren't you at least happy to marry me?"

Y/N sighed softly.

"The conditions of the race were clear."

Yunho's hand dropped to his side in clear disappointment of her answer.

"I don't want you to marry me because you have to. I want you to marry me because you love me like I love you. I offer you my heart, soul, all of me and vow to love you with my last breath for as long as we remain on this earth."

Y/N clasped a hand over her mouth when Yunho got on his knees and looked at her with such adoration and love.

"Forget the race and forget about the conditions. That doesn't matter anymore. If you don't want it, I'll happily release you from that condition......but at least allow me to try it my way."

Reaching for one of her hands, he grasped it tightly with both of his hands which were trembling slightly.

"I love you Y/N. I love you with every drop of blood that runs in my body. And nothing would make me happier than to have you accept my love and accept to my wife from this night forward."

He gulped as soon as he finished the words, waiting impatiently for her answer, tears building up inside him as he feared her rejection. Y/N was already crying, overwhelmed by her emotions and the intensity of the feelings she had for him. But then she thought about living the rest of her life without him and that was even more terrifying to her.

"Yunho......I love you..."

His gaze that was on the floor suddenly shot up when he finally heard her say those words. Through teary eyes, she smiled at him.

"And I would love for nothing more than to become your wife."

Before her sentence was finished, he was already on his feet, picking her up and spinning her around as his lips began peppering kisses all over her face. Tears of happiness streamed down his face as he thanked Aphrodite and all the other gods for blessing him in such a way.

"You see? It was worth it in the end. I don't regret risking my life......and I'd happily do it again if it means I win you..."

❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖

[senseandaccountability]

Hey, did you get a chance to watch season 6 of Lucifer? What did you think of the finale?

This is going to be salty (sorry) so I put it under a cut for people who prefer joyous things in the feed.

I didn’t like the final season.

To be brief: It felt like a story where the writers knew how they wanted it to end, and therefore the plot ruled over the characters. It wasn't a main plot I enjoyed at all, and it was told in a way that made it difficult for me to appreciate even the small bits I liked. (Ella reveal. Ghost Dan.) I thought it suffered from a jarring tonal shift and when it comes to several overarching themes, I felt it negated/trivialized previous seasons. In many ways it also managed to be both cheesy and cruel, often at the same time. I had the impression it was a compilation of (unfortunately rather boring) fandom wishes and tropes more than authentic storytelling.

To be anything but brief:

I dislike the season in part because it undid a lot of great things about Lucifer as a character.

By the end of 5B Lucifer had come full circle. I think that season finale is great. The Lucifer vs Michael fight was so well done thematically - he fought himself, and unlike the first fight in 5A when he wants to hurt his twin he had now reached a state of personal growth, of compassion. Not even when Michael kills Chloe does he deserve death because everyone deserves a second chance. And then the funny and pitch perfect “Oh, my me”. Ambiguous enough about the details to fuel the fandom, clear enough about the themes and the lore to offer closure. (No, Deckerstar didn’t have a date or much of a snog but I can fill in the blanks there though I am aware that many fans were disappointed by the lack of on-screen love.)

Excellent way to end the show.

Except they didn’t. S6, I feel, tried to tell the same story all over again, only not as well or even coherent.

Over the seasons it’s been pretty clear that while Lucifer can be caring, he mostly cares about the handful of people in his life. S6 even touches upon this, has him trying to care for random people in their hell loops. But S5 already did this, but better, with Michael. The family dinner with God was excellent, it showed broken people all around and had Lucifer, the self-centered drama queen of the family realizing that he’s not the only one that’s been hurt. It showed the best and worst of them all. Sparing Michael, considering Michael worthy of redemption, was peak growth for Lucifer as a character because in that moment he also considers himself worthy of the same thing. That’s when he truly forgives himself. I thought. And then season 6 shows Michael as a prisoner in Hell, just once, never to be mentioned again. Is that a second chance? Is that redemption? Is that really the symbolism they were going for or just a spiteful and stupid little addition because LOL SOME PEOPLE DESERVE HELL. (Do they? Says who? The show doesn’t answer that because the show that focuses on the neutral character the Devil and the totally untarnished place Hell doesn’t much care about such divisive matters, but more about that soon.) I dislike the season, in parts because I wasn't satisfied with the moral/quasi-theological backdrop. The system is wrong, Lucifer concluded by the end of 5B. Season 6 has him return to the system, as an Afterlife Coach of the Damned. Is that really the best they could do?

I mourn all the cool possibilities of what Lucifer, the advocate for free will and defender of desire, could have done with hell as a concept. Blown it apart, closed it, tossed the keys to someone else and rode off in the sunset. At the very least he could have altered it so that it’s no longer solitary confinement but a collective of doomed souls trying together to achieve redemption but hey, never mind me, I’m a bleeding-heart socialist and I don’t believe in revenge and I don’t believe in God but if I did, God would forgive. Otherwise, what the hell is the point?

I parsed through the season with my husband, a real-life minister who doesn't think anyone deserves hell and who gets to suffer my long-ass questions about the theological themes of popular culture a little bit too often. Because we both felt slightly insulted after watching. "Is this bullshit what they offer me?" my husband asked me as the timey wimey time travel plot unfolded. But timey wimey bullshit aside, we concluded that the real reason we were both so annoyed and frustrated with the season is because it highlighted how flat the background lore really is. I mean, I guess they wanted to be yay, neutral and non-divisive themes galore! It’s good to be good, folks! If you’re not, well, I guess you might have your spine broken by the Devil or sent to a never-ending hell loop but let’s not talk about religion! The main issue, for me, with the whole system of heaven and hell and earth on the show is that for every equation, there’s a part missing. The show has borrowed the character from the comics verse but left the entire lore and its internal logic behind. It borrows a bit of moral philosophy, but cuts away the troublesome bits otherwise Lucifer can’t both be on a redemptive path and happily slaughter people in fits of vengeance; it uses Heaven and Hell and vaguely also the concept of sin but never answers any questions about it, apart from the central message of course: it’s up to you. In fact, the show discourages questions about the lore because it has no answers. It doesn’t care. The ending of the show brushes off the much needed systematic changes of heaven and hell like it’s just another joke. (Want to know a show that has compassionate writing about morality while managing to be very funny? The Good Place. And you know what, morality should be serious. I’m a softie and again, a bleeding-heart, but it’s important to be a good person and it’s important to get a chance for redemption. It matters. It’s not just a minor detail.)

Which brings me to the damn therapy theme. I know a lot of people like it and I have also liked it a lot in previous seasons. I have. It’s been quirky. (Also highly unprofessional, but hey.) But as the key to your afterlife/redemption/second chance it’s just not good enough.

It is so very, very individualistic that it makes my skin crawl. It’s the ultimate American solution to systemic injustices and suffering - hey, it’s up to you, man. You decide if you deserve hell. You decide if you deserve Heaven. You make the difference! You can do it! Live the afterlife dream, achieve all your goals, get a hell loop that no longer loops but… stays in one static place where at least you’re moderately happy. Navel-gazing into your soul is certainly one way to get some insights into your mistakes. But it’s not redemption. Redemption is an active choice to be a better person. You don’t have to earn redemption or deserve it. And redemption isn’t the same as forgiveness either. Redemption is the opposite to pointless, everlasting punishment. It’s hopeful and it’s ugly and it’s full of purpose and the chance to be better and add something good to the world. Even Lucifer doesn’t get to do that on the show. He deals only with the already doomed. The here and now on Earth fades into the distance as Deckerstar, too, gets their happily ever after in Hell. You’ll get pie in the sky when you die. Or you get to shag on a throne in Hell. Either way, life on Earth doesn’t matter. (Here the show lean into some really dodgy Christian themes, I’d argue, but hey, it’s not about religion! It’s just a fun romp about a reformed bad boy!)

“Hell is just revenge porn for fundamentalists and other people who believe in eye for an eye. I just want there to be a level of collective forgiveness and hope, you know?” I told my husband whilst chugging down beer. As you do when you watch crap that makes no sense. “A level of hey, I’ve got this, I forgive you, you can do better. Go and do better. And then the actual opportunity to do so, even if it's just reliving your life as a ghost again and again until you figure out what went wrong.” “Honey,” my husband said. “I hate to tell you this since you’re an atheist but that level you’re talking about? That’s Jesus.” Well, screw that.

I really don’t want to need Jesus to make sense of a story. I just want decent bloody storytelling.

[queenmarytudor]

The Spanish Princess S2 rewrite

The wonky timeline and horrible inaccuracies of The Spanish Princess season 2 inspired me to plot out the season myself.

I made some minor timeline changes to make things flow easier, speeding up the time between events while ignoring Catherine’s first daughter born in 1510 and Mary’s 1518 French betrothal - but I can guarantee my version is 100% more accurate than Emma Frost’s ;)

I used the same following events in the series as rough reference points: 

Birth and death of Prince Hal - episode 1

Battle of Flodden - episode 2

Princess Mary’s birth - episode 4

Field of the Cloth of Gold - episode 6

but I’ve dramatically altered the context, featuring a lot more festivities, the births of Margaret Douglas and Frances Brandon, and Henry VIII’s affair with Mary Boleyn!  

EPISODE 1 - SIR LOYAL HEART (1511)

King Henry VIII and his new bride, Queen Catherine of Aragon, are crowned king and queen of England, to great rejoicing.

The new court is full of revels; Henry dresses up as Robin Hood to surprise his young queen, along with his band of merry men. An amused Catherine is declared his Maid Marian. The happy king and queen dance together, while Mary, Henry VIII’s sister dances with the king’s best friend Charles Brandon. After the revelry, Catherine confesses to her husband she is with child.

Henry writes to his father in law Ferdinand that he considers him his new father, and prefers an alliance with him rather than any other prince.

Catherine is sent a blessed girdle by her sister, Margaret queen of Scots, to guarantee a safe birth. She had been given it by Catherine previously to use in the birth of her son, prince James of Scotland, and hopes it gives her similar luck. Catherine is touched by the kind gesture. 

On New Years day, Catherine gives birth to a prince, named Henry for his father.

Henry goes to a shrine, Our Lady at Walsingham, to give thanks while Catherine recovers. The king of France, Louis XII, is made godfather of little Prince Hal.

When Catherine is churched and returns to court there are jousts to celebrate England’s new heir. Henry jousts as “Sir Loyal Heart”. His sister Mary gives Charles Brandon her favour before the pair joust. Henry is victorious, but Charles admits privately to Mary after that he let the new father win. Catherine happily awards her husband the main prize.

A grand feast follows, where a jubilant Henry encourages the people to take the gold from his costume. A stampede follows, and the laughing king and queen must be helped to safety.

Their happiness is interrupted by the sad news that prince Hal is dead.

The court is plunged into grief, and Henry, in an effort to distract himself, declares war on France, wanting to win back the land lost to England. He asks a mourning Catherine’s help in convincing her father to fight with him. She agrees eagerly; God has taken her son, but he will surely bless them with another when they defeat their ancient enemy.

EPISODE 2 - FLODDEN (1513)

There has been several months of planning war against France, and Catherine is in the early stages of pregnancy. She talks to the Venetian ambassador about hiring Italian ships for an invasion, asking about the cost. Henry admires her attitude, and declares her regent of England while he is in France. 

On the eve of her husband’s departure, Catherine tells him their child has quickened, leaving Henry even more eager to win for the sake of their son’s future inheritance.

Before they cross the channel to fight, Mary promises Charles Brandon to look after her brother. He reassures her they will both be fine; Mary says he’ll look after the king, and she the queen.

In France, Henry, Charles, and the other men wait on Catherine’s father, Ferdinand of Aragon. He never arrives, and Henry is incensed to discover he has been betrayed. He successfully lays siege to Therouanne, taking the town and demolishing the walls, creating large fires. They carry on, leaving destruction behind them.

Meanwhile in England, a now visibly pregnant Catherine heads the Privy Council meetings and realises they will have to fight the Scots, allied with the angry French. She writes constantly to the king’s almoner, Thomas Wolsey, worrying how her husband fares.

Catherine, helped by Mary, busies herself preparing essential items for battle, including sewing banners of the royal arms of England and Spain.

Margaret writes a letter pleading her sister not to attack, but Catherine burns it and rallies her soldiers with a rousing speech, saying “English courage excels that of all other nations!”. The soldiers proudly take her banners to battle at Flodden field, where they slaughter the Scots.

Catherine and Mary wait anxiously before England is declared victorious and Catherine is brought James IV of Scotland’s body. She wants to send his head to her husband, but her men persuade her not to. She sends her friar, Friar Langley, to Scotland to comfort the now widowed Margaret.

Across the sea Charles Brandon distinguishes himself by capturing a gatehouse at Tournai. Henry is sent James IV’s bloodstained clothes and a letter from Catherine informing him of her success. Inspired, Henry leads the successful assault on Tournai.

In England, celebrations continue for their victory, but are dimmed when Catherine goes into labour early and gives birth to a stillborn son. Mary comforts her, promising Henry will be home soon.

Henry returns from France victorious, creating Charles Brandon the Duke of Suffolk for his actions. He assures Catherine all will be well now the enemy is defeated, as his sister Mary is to be betrothed to Louis XII of France to make peace between the two countries.

EPISODE 3 - GRIEF (1514)

In Scotland, a grieving Margaret is comforted by Archibald Douglas after being declared regent on behalf of her son, the now king James. He can relate to losing a spouse, as his wife died not long ago. 

In England, Catherine is pregnant again, and sews Henry’s battle torn shirts as Mary gets fitted for her wedding dress. Henry’s sister is horrified at having to marry the French king.

Wolsey is now the archbishop of York, and Catherine is beginning to resent his growing influence and power at court. Henry has come up with an idea to claim Castile on behalf of Catherine. He and Catherine argue viciously over it. She thinks it is ridiculous; even if she agreed to fight with her father over the land, Castile is her sister Joana’s before hers, as their mother’s heir. Henry says Joana is mad and incapable of ruling, and therefore it passes to her, and by extension, him. 

Catherine is miserable, not helped by her bad pregnancy. She is constantly sick, but disguises her pain to say goodbye to Mary. At the waterside before her departure, Mary gets her brother to promise she can choose her second husband. Henry agrees, and Mary sets sail for France with several ladies in waiting, including Mary and Anne Boleyn.  

In Scotland, a lonely Margaret finds herself falling in love with Archibald Douglas. 

Catherine is torn between her husband and her father, even more so when Henry decide to send Charles Brandon over to France to discuss a new alliance with King Louis against him.

In France, Charles talks to Louis about an alliance against Ferdinand but the French king is reluctant.

Catherine goes into early labour and gives birth to a son they name Henry for his father. He dies minutes after birth in his parents arms, and both are devastated.

Charles Brandon informs Mary of the queen’s loss; both comfort each other before Charles reluctantly sails back to England.

In Scotland, Margaret secretly marries Archibald Douglas, breaking the terms of her regency.

Back in England, Charles tells Henry he tried his best but Louis refused. Henry reveals he has dropped his plans to get revenge on Ferdinand for the sake of the queen.

Henry tells Catherine he has realised there are more important things to focus on - like her, recovering. They cuddle in bed, brought back together in shared grief for their son. 

EPISODE 4 - THE THREE QUEENS (1515 - 1516)

In Scotland, Margaret’s secret marriage is discovered when she becomes pregnant. Besieged and desperate for help, she sends a letter to her brother in England.

In France, Mary becomes a widow after King Louis dies. Henry sends Charles Brandon to bring her home, not before making him promise not to marry her. As she had with Margaret, Catherine sends her friar, Friar Langley, to comfort another Tudor widow; she has no need for him now as her prayers have been answered - she is with child again.

In France, Friar Langley tells Mary that the privy council, especially Wolsey, will never let her and Charles be wed. The pair marry anyway, helped by the new French king, Francis. Francis also gives his blessing for the Duke of Albany to take up the regency of King James in Scotland.

Henry is furious with both of his sisters, as Mary has married without his permission and Margaret urges him to send an army to help her. Henry refuses to send an army, but says Margaret can stay at his court.

Archibald urges Margaret to obey the council and surrender her son to a newly returned Albany, but she refuses. After a long argument, a defeated Margaret turns over James to Albany and flees with Archibald to her brothers court for the sake of her unborn child.

Mary reminds Henry “as you well know, I have always borne good mind towards my lord of Suffolk.” She beseeches him to “keep all the promises that you promised me when I took my leave of you by the waterside.”

Wolsey convinces Henry to allow Mary and Charles to return home to England if they pay a fine. To sweeten her brother’s disposition, Mary steals a large French jewel, the Mirror of Naples, for him. 

On the Scottish borders, Archibald refuses to cross into England with Margaret and reveals he intends to make peace with Albany. A betrayed Margaret carries on to London without her husband.

Mary and Charles return home to England, but her lady Anne Boleyn decides to stay on with the new French queen.

All 3 Tudor queens, Catherine, Mary, and Margaret, are now back together in the English royal court, and pregnant.

Margaret has still not forgiven Catherine for the role she played in her first husband’s death. She asks for her blessed girdle back, and Catherine agrees. 

Shortly after, Margaret gives birth to a daughter, also named Margaret. Catherine visits her and apologizes for the hurt she has caused. She gives her new dresses and jewels that befit the queen regent of Scotland, and Margaret thaws.

Catherine tries to reconcile the three Tudor siblings, saying their children will all be cousins and it would be a shame to make them enemies as they will be the future royal family. 

Henry forgives his sisters; he delights in wearing the Mirror of Naples Mary has stolen from King Francis, and tells Margaret Archibald’s actions were “Done like a Scot”.

Grand jousts are put on to celebrate Mary and Margaret’s return to court. Catherine and Mary watch on proudly as their husbands compete against each other, while Margaret is cheered by a letter arriving from her husband, saying he is trying to negotiate with Albany.

Catherine successfully gives birth to a little girl, named Mary in honour of her aunt. Wolsey, now a Cardinal, is made her godfather, while Margaret Pole is made her godmother and governess. A delighted Henry assures the Venetian ambassador “We are both young; if it was a daughter this time, by the grace of God the sons will follow.”

EPISODE 5 - MAY DAY (1517 - 1518)

Henry and Catherine are head over heels with their surviving child, now a thriving toddler. Mary is constantly flaunted by her parents to ambassadors and courtiers who dote on her; the king names her his pearl of the world, and brags she never cries. The royals are informed of attacks on foreigners in London, but caught up in their happiness, they brush off the news.

The three queens meet at Margaret’s London townhouse, with their children, Princess Mary, Margaret Douglas and Henry Brandon. Mary is pregnant again, while Margaret is eager to return to Scotland as the people around her household are becoming increasingly hostile towards her.

On May Day there are large scale riots in the city, and royal officers including Charles Brandon are sent to suppress them. Three hundred rebels are rounded up and sent to the king and queen. An emotional Catherine, Margaret and Mary beg for Henry to have mercy on them for the sakes of their wives and children, which is given.

Margaret leaves with her daughter to reunite with her husband in Scotland. Mary and an increasingly devout Catherine accompany her northwards while on pilgrimage to visit the Our Lady shrine at Walsingham, the same place her husband visited in thanks after she gave birth to their short lived son. Catherine suspects she is pregnant again.

While his wife is away, Henry entertains his daughter, and writes a Defence of the Seven Sacraments with Thomas More. Increasingly bored as the months pass, he begins an affair with one of Catherine’s ladies, Bessie Blount.

On her return to court, Catherine tells Henry his sister has given birth to a healthy girl named Frances in honour of the French king, and surprises Henry with her own big belly, obviously with child. He orders Te Deum to be sung in the churches in celebration. 

In her absence, Henry has grown a beard as part of a peace pact with Francis, but Catherine dislikes it and asks him to shave. He agrees happily after her surprise.

Unfortunately, their joy is as short lived as their child; Catherine soon gives birth to a daughter who dies not long after.

EPISODE 6 - CLOTH OF GOLD (1519 - 1520)

Catherine and Henry take comfort in Mary and the new title, “Defender of the Faith”, that Henry has been given by the Pope. Catherine is teaching her daughter Latin, and all is well until it is discovered that Bessie Blount is pregnant. She is sent away from court to a nearby priory to avoid the scandal being discovered.

Back in Scotland, Margaret discovers her husband Archibald has been living openly in her house with a mistress.

Cardinal Wolsey devises a royal summit with the French king, the Field of the Cloth of Gold, to cement their peace treaty. Henry is eager to see his rival, King Francis, in the flesh.

Bessie has given birth to a bastard son, Henry, who Henry immediately recognises as his own and gives the surname Fitzroy. He makes Wolsey his son’s godfather, and sends him to a secret christening. Henry promises Catherine Fitzroy will be kept away from court, but he will do his fatherly duty. He sends some of Princess Mary’s ladies to care for him.

Margaret writes to her brother she wants a divorce. Catherine sympathises with her sister as she is in a similar position, but urges Margaret to commit more fully to her husband, as she is. Henry and Catherine are determined to put the Fitzroy argument behind them and spend time with Princess Mary as a loving royal family.

Margaret discovers the Duke of Albany has been invited to the Field of the Cloth of Gold, and urges him to convince her brother to help her.

Henry, Catherine, Henry’s sister Mary and Charles Brandon attend the Field of the Cloth of Gold in France. In their absence, England is ruled by Princess Mary, Margaret Pole and the Privy Council.

At the Field of the Cloth of Gold, the Duke of Albany talks to Henry; again Henry and Catherine refuse to support his sister in a divorce. Margaret needs to work out her differences with her husband, for the sake of their daughter.

Catherine and Queen Claude of France become friends, bonding over their husband’s rivalry and their ladies in waiting becoming mistresses. Catherine is grateful Henry is discreet with his lovers, unlike Francis with Francoise de Foix, and that in England there is no official recognised royal mistress position.

King Francis proposes a match between his son and Princess Mary; Henry agrees to allow some French ambassadors to visit England.

In England, the French ambassadors meet with Mary. Mary, watched over by Margaret Pole, entertains them by playing the virginals and offering them strawberries, her favourite.

In France, the kings hear the ambassadors are enchanted with the princess. Catherine is secretly displeased, as she favours her nephew, the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, as Mary’s future husband. She says her daughter is far too young to marry, and the four royals agree they will wait until Mary is older for the pair to wed. 

At the festivities, Catherine’s lady Mary Boleyn reunites with her sister Anne, who returns with them back to England as one of Catherine’s ladies.

EPISODE 7 - THE KING’S PEARL (1522 - 1523)

Catherine concentrates more on her daughter’s future. Hearing of his talents, she meets the great scholar Juan Luis Vives and commissions him to write a book on female education for Princess Mary.

A desperate Margaret writes that her marriage to Archibald is invalid as James IV is still alive. Catherine is incredulous; she had seen the Scottish king’s dead body herself. Catherine and Henry again refuse to support her.

After an annoyed Henry tells Edward Stafford off for failing to keep the Welsh in line, Catherine persuades Henry that an Imperial marriage would be better for England and their daughter. 

Charles V visits England, where a grand pageant is performed in his honour. Henry’s sister Mary plays Beauty, while Mary Boleyn is Kindness and Anne Boleyn Perseverance. Afterwards, Anne flirts with a courtier, Henry Percy; she says she likes his beard.

In the midst of the festivities Edward Stafford, still annoyed over being rebuked by the king, makes a snide remark overheard by Wolsey.     

Princess Mary, wearing a Valentines brooch for her cousin, meets Charles V. Catherine says he cannot leave without seeing Mary dance. Mary does not need to be asked twice; Catherine watches her daughter proudly as she impresses the emperor. 

In Scotland, Margaret commands Albany to appeal directly to the Pope for a divorce, as Archibald has turned her mad. He agrees to help her. Margaret and Albany finally come to an agreement over the regency of James, which is confirmed by the Scottish parliament. Margaret is not regent, but is able to help her son govern. 

Princess Mary is formally betrothed to Charles V, but after he leaves England Charles breaks the treaty and marries Isabella of Portugal. This infuriates Henry, who takes his anger out on Catherine. They have a blazing argument, where he blames her not only for her nephew jilting their daughter, but for not bearing a male heir. Edward Stafford has been listening to prophecies that predict his death and intends to kill him himself after their argument; England is not safe if he were to die without a successor. Catherine argues they have an heir; her mother ruled as a queen in her own right, and she herself ruled the country for him when he was in France.

Juan Luis Vives presents his finished book to Catherine. She tells him “If I had to choose between extreme sorrow and extreme well-being, I think I would prefer the former to the latter, for people in disgrace need only some consolation, while those who are too successful frequently lose their minds.”

She is comforted by Vives’ assurance that she is a good queen and mother, and a model for all woman. Henry meanwhile, is comforted by Mary Boleyn while Edward Stafford is executed for treason.

EPISODE 8 - DECLARE, I DARE NOT (1525 - 1527)

Archibald approaches the Scottish parliament heavily armed, but Margaret orders cannons to be fired at him. Henry Stewart, the master of artillery, is eager to obey, but the English ambassadors are appalled at their actions. They tell her not to attack her husband, but Margaret replies they should “go home and not meddle in Scottish matters”.

In a ceremony, Catherine watches on as her husband announces Princess Mary will go to the Welsh Marches with Margaret Pole and her own council to learn how to govern. It appears Henry has changed his mind and is prepared to accept his daughter as the first ruling queen of England; Catherine is delighted, especially when Mary is given the executed Stafford’s lands and the lordships of Bromfield, Chirkland and Yale to support her new role.

In the same ceremony, a proud Mary and Charles Brandon look on with their daughter Frances as their son Henry is made earl of Lincoln. Shortly after Henry Fitzroy is made Duke of Richmond and Somerset. Catherine is furious, especially when Henry declares his bastard and household will go to the northern borders to defend England against the Scots. 

Mary Boleyn gives birth to a girl, Catherine Carey, named in honour of the queen. Catherine says the child looks just like her father. 

Henry and Wolsey press ahead with arranging a marriage treaty with France as discussed at the Field of the Cloth of Gold; Catherine, desperately wanting to make amends with her husband, reluctantly agrees.

Wolsey tells Henry Percy and Anne Boleyn off for getting betrothed without approval from the king. She is only a knight’s daughter, and beneath Percy’s rank; he is sent from court to marry Mary Talbot.

An ambassador for the French marriage, Bishop Tarbes, arrives to see Princess Mary. Tarbes questions Henry and Catherine about their daughters legitimacy. Catherine brushes off Tarbes’ concerns, as the Pope had given her and Henry a dispensation to marry even if her marriage to Arthur had been consummated.

Henry visits Mary Boleyn and congratulates her, wondering if her daughter is his. While looking after her sister, Anne talks with Henry; sparks fly.

Margaret is relieved to hear the Pope has finally sanctioned a divorce from Archibald. Though she acknowledges she will have to let Archibald attend Parliament, she is free to marry again should she choose. She drinks to her success with Henry Stewart, acknowledging he is quite handsome…

Henry has grown his beard out again, but this time refuses to shave when Catherine reminds him she hates beards. He insinuates to Anne Boleyn she could be his mistress, but she refuses after seeing how he’s treated her sister.

Princess Mary is formally betrothed to the French king’s son and there is a joust to celebrate. Henry competes with the motto “Declare, I Dare Not”, in stark contrast to Sir Loyal Heart in episode 1, and Catherine is confused.

With the celebrations over, an emotional Henry and Catherine must say goodbye to their daughter. Together they watch on as Mary, helped by Margaret Pole, prepares to leave court for her own estates in the Welsh Marches. As he holds his wife, Henry’s gaze cannot help but drift to a smiling Anne Boleyn nearby…

Embracing her daughter, Catherine gives Vives’ book to Mary as a farewell present. She promises her she will one day be queen of France - and England.

In a flash forward years later, Henry and Catherine’s daughter Mary is crowned the first queen regnant of England, to great rejoicing.

The last episode basically comes full circle to the first, with several parallels:

France are enemies/friends

Henry jousts for Catherine/Anne

Catherine loses Prince Hal/Princess Mary

Henry and Catherine are crowned/Mary is crowned

and we all know how the future will be, with a queen replaced because she can’t produce a male heir…

[omgrachwrites]

The Princess and The Duke - Chapter Three

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: As the Princess of  Spain, you were always supposed to marry King James of England to make an alliance between Spain and England. When he marries a woman at his court for love, you are married off to his best friend, Sirius Black the Duke of Bedford to keep the alliance. However, the court is riddled  with secrets and a rebel in the North starts to rise against the Throne. Royal AU.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death

Words: 2496

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me!

A/N: Hope you guys had a wonderful Christmas! Hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged, I love you all! xxx

Chapter Three - She is a Diamond

Nerves swarmed and came to a rising bubble in your stomach on the afternoon of the meeting between your future husband and his friends. The meeting was to determine the unknown problems and strife that England was now facing. You were worried for a multitude of reasons, England was meant to be your new home and you wanted to be safe, you didn’t want to be led like a lamb to slaughter. If it was rebels rising in the North then you knew of one sure way – the only way – to prove that England was strong and it was something that you were not ready for.

You had decided to dress in a rather conservative dress today – it felt like it was crushing your internal organs – instead of your usual pretty ethereal dresses. You wanted Sirius’ friends to take you seriously, you had a voice and they needed to hear it.

Sofia caught your eye in the mirror as she was intricately braiding your hair and she smiled at you as she squeezed your shoulders gently, “I’m nervous Sofia,” you admitted and Sofia nodded in understanding.

“Making peace is frightening, Your Highness but Sirius is incredibly lucky to have you, as is England.”

You frowned at her as she stepped away from the golden gilded mirror, “what do you mean?”

Sofia bit her lip as she fiddled with her fingers and you could tell that she was trying to be diplomatic with what she said next, “forgive me if you think that I speak out of turn but Queen Lily probably has no experience of diplomacy because she was never supposed to be Queen. But, you, you were raised to be a Queen; your father took you into his council meetings. You know what you’re doing and I know that the Duke will listen to you.”

You knew that Sofia was right, the Queen seemed nice but she had only been a minor Lady before King James took her to wife so she wouldn’t have been taught the art of diplomacy, “she’s the Queen, and we shouldn’t talk about her like that. When we’re her ladies we need to help her,” Sofia smiled and nodded at your kind words, “I should get going, what are you going to do while I’m gone?”

Sofia shrugged as she played with the ends of her hair, “I might take a walk around the gardens,” she flushed and you smirked, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

“And daydream about the Duke of Warwick?”

Sofia’s blush only deepened at your words, “maybe.”

You giggled and kissed both of her cheeks before you left your chambers and set off for the council chambers. It was a dreary day that was full of much rain but like usual, you kept the window cracked open a little bit. When it rained it carried the smell of strawberries growing on the wind and it filled the hallways with the sweetest scent. It managed to cheer everyone up, even on the greyest day.

You gently knocked on the ajar door before entering the room and the three men got to their feet at once, “Your Highness,” they chorused, inclining their heads.

Sirius smiled at you, he looked gloriously handsome in robes of periwinkle that brought out the soft stormy colour of his eyes. He kept eye contact with you as he took your hand and lifted it to his lips to press a soft kiss upon it. The look in his eyes made your cheeks flush and your heart flutter as pleasant warmth spread through your bones.

You cleared your throat as the air felt thick and heavy, “my Lords,” your voice sounded breathy and you could have sworn that Sirius’ eyes darkened slightly. Sirius gestured for you to sit down and the three Lords followed suit, “so, what have we got here? What’s the trouble?” you asked.

A muscle fluttered in Sirius’ jaw as he threw the letter down in the middle of the table, “there’s trouble brewing in Cumbria, small villages have been raided and pillaged and bandits have been attacking travellers on the Kings Road. It could be peasants but it could be rebels rising up against the King. Unrest is already stirring in London, people are starting to lose faith due to the Queen’s inability to get pregnant,” his voice was gentle but his words were harsh.

You saw a flash of red before your eyes, “that’s not her fault!” your voice was sharp and you saw Sirius flinch slightly, you sighed and placed your hand on his knee, “who’s lands are they?” you asked, maybe the Duke of Cumbria would be able to shed some light.

“Well, that’s the problem,” Remus started, “they’re the King’s lands, he’s yet to appoint a Duke, there have always been rebels in the North so he’s hesitant to let his rule go,” you raised an eyebrow in slight confusion, “there was a Duke and a Duchess once, Tom Riddle and his wife who were both executed for practicing witchcraft. Riddle claimed that his wife had given him love potion and he was executed by association. The Riddles used to rule the country before they were overthrown by James’ grandfather.”

You were silent, who would dare commit such crimes on lands owned by the King? “was there no heir?” you whispered and Remus’ face grew solemn.

“He was executed in the tower of London, James’ father was a witness, he used to tell us the story when we were children.”

Bile fought its way up your throat as tears stung your eyes and you thought about the horror of a poor child being killed for his parent’s sins, “that’s awful,” you whispered and you felt Sirius’ hand squeeze yours gently.

Remus hummed in response with a worried expression on his face as he looked over at his best friend, “we need to do something about this, whether it’s a group of peasant or a group of rebels, we need to make England safe, like it was in times of old. Can you send any of your men to investigate and deal justice if needs be?”

Sirius shook his head as his long fingers pressed into his temples and your heart melted for him, “I’ve got no men to spare, they’re holding Calais in case our enemies rise up, it truly feels as though we have no allies,” he hesitated as he lifted his head and you could almost hear the cogs turning in his head, “we need to send a spy – if it is rebels – somebody that they won’t expect.”

Peter, who had been silent for most of the meeting – he had no art for diplomacy – made a small scared noise and you bit your lip. Peter wasn’t the bravest of men, that much was true but he would be the most inconspicuous spy, no one would ever suspect him. However, something gnawed at your conscience and it was his face. Peter was trembling, his small eyes were watery and he seemed to know what everyone else did, he looked scared. He looked just like a little boy and you remembered just how young he was, how young you all were.

Whatever happened you couldn’t let Peter go, not when he looked scared to death, your heart wouldn’t allow it. Instead, you sacrificed yourself and the handsome man sitting at your side, “the common people – and all people – need to believe in you again, in King James, in England, in all of us. We need to give the appearance that we’re strong and Sirius is right,” you gestured over to him to find that he was listening intently with his eyebrows drawn together, “we have no allies but there is one way, the only way to ensure that we get them. We need to give the people a spectacle and a reason to celebrate. We need Spain, we need a wedding,” you looked up at Sirius from beneath your eyelashes.

Realisation dawned on his face as clear as day, “Y/N, no” he trailed off, saying nothing more.

“It’s not what I want,” you sniffed, feeling tears sting at your eyes, “but we need allies, we need Spain,” you hadn’t wanted to marry him so quickly, you were becoming fond of him but that wasn’t enough.

Remus and Peter stayed silent as they glanced at Sirius, awaiting his response, “we can’t,” he whispered, his eyes were soft and gentle.

“Do you know of any other way Sirius? My father won’t send the Spanish men we need without our wedding. Our wedding is the only way we can rely on this alliance and I won’t allow anyone to be sent over as a spy, not yet,” you glanced over at Peter who gave you a shaky thankful smile.

Sirius stayed silent, a troubled look on his face, “that’s settled then,” you sniffed as you stood up, feeling your heart beating wildly, “excuse me my Lords. Good day,” you excused yourself without looking at Sirius or waiting for a reply.

Once you were in the hallway, you steadied yourself with a hand on the cold stone wall, you felt faint and your breathing got shallow. You were going to be a wife soon, you had had no choice.

----------------------------------

Sirius sighed through the cold air as he dragged a hand through his hair, he had been searching for the Princess for ages now, and he had cut the meeting short to search through his huge chateau. He couldn’t find her anywhere, she wasn’t in the library or in the portrait room, and they were the two places where she loved to sit for hours. It had stopped raining now so he decided to look for her in the gardens, the trouble was there was so many of them, and it could be dark before he found her.

He slipped on the rain soaked grass as he made his way across the wet lawn, a million questions running through his head at once. Why would she sacrifice herself? Sirius had never wanted it to be like this, it felt like it was a forced marriage. Sirius had wanted to wait until they got to know each other better and when she felt comfortable but that was all over now. As soon as the people got wind of a wedding that involved a Princess they would want to see results immediately.

Sirius finally found her sitting on the bench of the water fountain in the rose garden; Sofia was sitting with her arm around Y/N’s shoulders. Y/N’s eyes looked red and bloodshot, it looked like she had been crying but she was still beautiful. How was she still so beautiful? Y/N looked up as she heard Sirius approached and she wiped her nose and got to her feet.

“Y/N,” Sirius sighed as he reached out and cupped her cold cheek with his warm hand, Y/N let out a breath as she leaned in to his warm touch, placing her hand over his, “why? Why would you do this? I thought we had an agreement, we would get married when you were ready and not a second earlier.”

Y/N bit her lip and looked away from him as she watched the water trickling into the fountain with a sad look in her eyes, “you’re sweet Sirius,” she started in a shaky voice,  “and I’ll always be grateful for that but the rest of the world won’t wait for us. People who want to attack England and overthrow King James won’t wait for us; they’ll see a moment of weakness and strike like a viper. We can’t afford to lose this war Sirius; too many lives are at stake, yours included.”

“I understand that Y/N,” Sirius whispered gently, almost like he was whispering to a lover in the dead of night, “but you have no duty to the people of England, you have no duty to try and save them.”

Y/N looked back at him and smiled weakly, the light in her eyes was back and a flush started to rise up from her neck before it settled in a light dusting on her cheeks, “no, you’re right, I don’t have a duty to the people of England, and it’s not them I’m trying to save. I’m trying to save you, and your friends who have always been so kind to me. I’m trying to protect you and our marriage is the only way that I can do that, so I’ll make the choice willingly.”

Sirius felt hot tears sting at his eyes, he had never felt so protected by anyone, not his King and certainly not his mother, at that moment he wanted nothing more than to kiss her but he felt that that wouldn’t be appropriate. Instead he pulled her into a tight hug, he heard her laugh as she wrapped her arms around him and Sirius buried his nose in her sweet smelling hair, “thank you,” he whispered against her hair.

Y/N pulled back and smiled up at him, “you’re welcome and I know that we may not love each other but I want us to be in this together,” she smiled when Sirius nodded with a grin, he wanted that too, “so,” she started as she took his arm and started to take a stroll around the gardens, “know any good places to get married?” she laughed.

“Well, there is my family chapel but it’s sad and dark, its where my mother got married, it’s not fit for such a young and beautiful princess,” he grinned over at Y/N who flushed and she tightened her hold on Sirius’ arm, “there is a place in the woods where a little chapel dwells, right in the thicket of trees. In times of old it was said that Englishmen found fairies in the trees and mermaids in the babbling brooks.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him entirely unconvinced, “are you serious? Fairies and mermaids?” she snickered, “who came up with that rubbish?”

Sirius smiled, “I found in a book of local legends,” he shrugged, “and I’ve been to visit it and it really is beautiful, if those creatures did exist then it would be a perfect habitat for them, it feels like it’s steeped in magic. There’s a cluster of cherry blossom trees that hides the chapel and its grounds from the world. It’s one of the most amazing places,” he smiled wistfully.

Y/N gazed up at him, her eyes sparkling and her lips were parted slightly, she had a beautiful expression on her face but it was an expression that Sirius couldn’t decipher, “that sounds wonderful,” her voice got all breathy again and she leaned her head against Sirius’ shoulder, a nice warm weight, “looks like we have a wedding to plan.”

“Yes, it seems that way Your Highness,” Sirius grinned, feeling his cheeks dimple as he lifted up her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

---------------------------------- 

@smiithys​ @elayneblack​ @amelie-black​ @siriuslyjanhvi​ @pregnant-piggy​ @lindatreb​ @mabelle-cherie​ @hxrgreeves​ @britishspidey​ @mads-bri​ @classicrocketqueen​ @sxtansqueen​ @hufflepuffzutara​ @missmulti​ @bruxa0007​ @ourstarsailor​ @fific7​ @squ1dward​ @2410slb​ @sunles​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Eye of the Storm 11

Warnings: nonconsensual sex (series), voyeurism, oral, mean Thor

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: Angry Thor has arrived (as @lokislastlove​ begged for)

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Loki gloated for much of the day. As the winds and rains raged outside, he seemed little bothered. He spent some hours at his desk then called for his supper. He ate with relish and you found it increasingly difficult to ignore his fleeting gazes. He made no secret of his desires, tickling your thigh or your ass whenever you were near or requesting some task which would expose you further to him.

When he dismissed you, you dressed quickly. You prayed you could flee back to the servants' quarters without obstacle. You just wanted to sleep and the memory of Thor looming in the shadows never quite left your mind.

As you grabbed your apron, Loki neared you and kept you from heading to the door. He touched your cheek as he considered you and his lips curved slightly. There was a knowing in his eyes. He didn't even glance away as another roll of thunder sounded from outside.

"My dear, I must tell you your services have been splendid," He rubbed your chin with his thumb. "Adequate to say the least."

Your cheek twitched. Your stomach churned with dread. His words assured you that he knew he had played his last card with Thor. You were his sacrificial lamb and he was sending you to slaughter.

"Thank you, your highness," You gritted out and drew away from him. "I should retire for the night so that I do not lack in tomorrow's duties."

"I hope you do get some rest," He said as he turned away from you. "Though I suspect this storm might keep me awake."

You watched his shoulders, his careful steps, the way he seemed resigned. You had counted the seconds until you could leave and now you were afraid to. Yet, you couldn't stay.

You went to the door and left without another word. The snap of the door made you flinch and you turned down the corridor away from the king's chambers. The path was longer but would keep you from passing the royal lodgings.

It didn't matter. You reached the next corridor and the windows flickered as lightning crashed. A figure stood at one of the tall windows, staring out into the roaring storm. Thor's hand rested on the stone frame but he didn't look at you. Nevertheless, it was too late, he was aware of your presence.

"Hiding from me?" He asked.

"Your majesty," You uttered softly. "No, I was only returning to my chambers."

"And last night?" He turned at last, his figure limned with the next strike of lightning. "I waited for you and you never returned to your chamber."

"I was late last night. Very late," You lied. "The prince--"

"I do not want to hear anymore of my brother," He huffed as he took a step closer. "I do not want to hear how you prefer him to me."

"I do not, your majesty--"

"My king," He corrected you. "You must recall your manners. You will not be returning to my brother's service. My wedding is through and my wife is here. I've gone along with his ploy for long enough."

"My king, I should--"

"You should do as I bid," He got closer, his steps slow but decisive. "I am not asking you to return as my chambermaid."

You shivered and stepped back as he continued to encroach. He kept on until you were against the wall. Your insides felt as if they would dissolve and you'd be nothing but a puddle on the floor.

"Did he explain to you what I did that day?" He asked as he touched the waist of your apron. You nodded, fearfully. "I did it for you. To be with you. To save you from him."

"My king," You grabbed his hand before it could move from the belt of your apron. "I do not-- I have only ever been a servant and I wish nothing else."

His eyes narrowed and glowed in the dark of the corridor. He scoffed and batted your hand away. He shook his head as he sneered. His hand flew up to your throat and he held you against the stone.

"I was not asking," He said. "And what else does a servant do but obey her master's command."

His hand slipped around the back of your neck as he turned and wrenched you away from the wall. He kept his fingers tight as he urged you down the next hallway, your sandals slipping on the stone. You gasped at the pain his grasp sent down your spine as he turned you around corners.

He stopped before his chamber doors and forced the left one open. He shoved you through so that you nearly stumbled onto your face, only just catching yourself on the back of a chair. You looked up, stunned to find the queen staring back at you. Her dark eyes burned and darted to her husband as he pulled shut the door with a loud clatter.

"Is this the whore then?" She stood. "The one you wrote that ridiculous bill for?"

"Whore?" Thor echoed with spite. "You can keep that title for yourself."

"Pardon me," She spat. "I am your wife, your queen. You will not--"

"By law, I can do whatever the fuck I please," He retorted. "And as my wife, you will obey me," He neared and slapped your ass, "Just as she does."

You righted yourself, watching Calla pleadingly as Thor groped you. She scowled and her jaw tensed as she stared down her husband.

"I will not abide this. You humiliate me? After dragging me all the way from my home?" She raised her voice as she rounded the table. "I will give you your heir, not her, so send the wench away."

Thor shook his head and laughed. A low, sardonic laugh which made your blood freeze.

"Oh?" Thor tore his hand away from you. "You want to do your duty, huh? Then show me you can." He grabbed her wrist and she fought against him. He easily spun her around and twisted her arm up behind her back. "Perhaps if you don't lay there like a corpse, I'll be able to leave my seed in you."

He marched her towards the bedchamber. You stood stunned by the table. You peeked over at the door, wincing as the king barked again.

"Sweet maid," He called. "Come and attend to my wife."

Your eyes widened and you kicked yourself. You scurried across the room and followed the king and queen into the next. He pushed her away from him and reached back to haul you past the threshold.

"Help her undress so that she can do her wifely duty," He ordered. 

He unclasped his cape and tossed it away. As he loosened his armor you went to Calla and she seared you with a look of revulsion. She went rigid and allowed you to remove her belt and then pull her gown over her head, the silk smooth against your palms. She slipped free of her sandals and faced the bed, waving you away like an insect.

"Well, then," You pushed down his undershorts. "Get on the bed, wife."

Calla held her head high and stepped up to the bed. She lifted her knee onto the mattress and for a moment, hesitated. There was a glimmer of doubt in her eyes; a sliver of fear. She climbed up and laid flat on her back. 

Thor neared the other side and stopped himself. He looked at you and snapped his fingers before pointing to the wall. You gulped back your terror and went to stand where he bid. You folded your hands and lowered your head. He snapped again and you looked up. He raised his brow in a silent warning.

You quivered and he got up onto the bed. He took Calla's leg as he turned his back to you. He leaned her leg against his torso, her foot peeking up above his shoulder, then pulled the other up. She let out a breath as he reached between them, the muscles of his back constricting beneath his skin.

"Tho--" Her voice fizzled as he thrust into her sharply. "Ow, you're hurting--"

Her voice was muffled as he covered her mouth with his hand and his flesh slapped against her. He was impatient and unkind. He hammered into her without relent as her hands clawed at him and the blankets. Her murmurs escaped from beneath his palm and were soon little more than whimpers.

He leaned against her and raised himself higher. He curled her body beneath his, lifting her ass off the mattress. Her weight rested on her shoulders as he planted his feet on either side of her and rutted into her from above.

You couldn't look away. It was horrifying yet hypnotizing. He rescinded his hand from her mouth and clung to her thighs as he fucked her relentlessly.

"Come on," He growled. "Come on," He sped up. "Come on--" He snorted in frustration. "You bitch, give me something."

"St-stop," Calla begged. "It hurts."

Thor ignored her, the clap of flesh filled the room along with his deep grunts and Calla's weak whines.

Then it stopped all at once. Thor swore and pulled out of her, letting her drop heavily to the bed. He muttered and got down off the mattress. He rounded the bed and grabbed her dress from where you'd left it on the cushioned stool. He flung it at her.

"Go!" He snapped. "Now."

"Thor," She sat up and tried to untangle her dress. "Please--"

"Useless," He snarled. "You can't do the one thing you're good for. Go or I'll drag you back to your chambers as you are. Let my people see how pathetic you truly are."

You saw her tremble in hurt and shame. She blinked as if to keep from crying and turned her legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as she did. You glanced at Thor as he ignored her and glared out the window, the sky wailing still.

You went to Calla thought you realised she likely blamed you, and reached to help her untangle her dress. She let you and you angled it over her head for her. As she straightened it, you fetched her sandals and belt and she touched your hand as she took them. You looked at her shyly but didn't find the spite you expected, only pity.

"Come on," You whispered and beckoned her away from the bed, peeking over at Thor. 

She rose and followed you around the bed. You led her across the receiving chamber and to the door. As you grabbed the door handle, her hand rested on yours.

"You should go too." She said softly. "He will hurt you."

"I cannot," You replied. "If I did, it would only be worse. You must know that."

She sighed and bent her head. She nodded and let go of you. You opened the door and she stepped out into the corridor. You sensed her watching you but could not look at her. You blamed yourself for what Thor had done to her, not her for what he would do next.

She hesitated but finally left. You closed the door softly and felt a flood within. You had never been so terrified in all your life. You could hear the thunder still and the king in the next room stomping back and forth in his fury. You stayed by the door and watched his shadow pass by the other.

You rubbed your hands together nervously then wrung them. You peered around the chamber and made yourself breathe. You shifted on your feet. You leaned against the doors and the walls seemed to close in. You turned and grabbed the handle, your thumb on the lever.

“And where are you going?” Thor’s voice stopped you and you turned back slowly.

“No where,” You lied.

His chest rose and his shoulders squared. His lip curled and you cowered as he stormed towards you. You exclaimed as he grabbed you and swung you up over his shoulder. The air was knocked out of you as he spun and carried you back to the bedchamber.

He dropped you onto the bed and paced along the bottom as he continued to seethe. His hands were in fists as his muscles tensed and untensed. His eyes burned and he stopped suddenly, looking down at you as he puffed up his chest.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been. I’ll fuck her for hours and I still can’t come,” He sneered. “I can’t-- stop thinking of you. And my damned brother just took you. I--”

He pushed his knee onto the bed and you sat up. He lifted his other and caught your ankle before you could shimmy away from him. He grabbed your other and forced your legs apart. 

He pulled you closer to him, bending your legs around him. His hands went to your apron and ripped it loose, jolting your body against him. Then he gripped the collar of your dress and tore it down the middle. His eyes had turned dark, sinister. He undressed you roughly, shredding your clothes entirely.

He bent over you and cradled your face with his large hand. His lips crashed into yours and tried to devour you as he squeezed your jaw. He pulled back and his eyes bored into yours as you stared back in fright.

He searched your face as your fingers balled up the blanket beneath you. You shivered and turned your head away from him. You braced yourself for what was next.

“You…” He was breathless. “You don’t want me?”

You were silent. You clamped your lips shut and sniffed. You stared at the wall and your body stiffened against his. He sat back and you closed your eyes.

“You will,” He rasped, “You will want me. I’ll make you want me.”

He moved back and grabbed your knees. He held them apart as the bed shifted beneath him. You waited, eyes squeezed shut. Waited for the pain. 

You gasped as you felt something else. Something warm and wet against your cunt. Your eyes shot open and you looked down at the king as he bent between your legs, his hands slipped down your thighs as he kept them apart. His eyes met yours and he flicked his tongue across your clit.

You gasped and he did it again. His tongue delved deeper between your folds and back along your bud. He swirled around it and suckled, all the while, his eyes never left yours and you couldn’t look away as you watched him lap you up.

His tongue sent ripples from head to toe, your nerves buzzed beneath your flesh as he kneaded your thighs. His mouth made sloppy sounds as he purred and his mouth tended to you fervently. Your breaths came quickly and your core swelled with a sudden heat. That same heat you’d felt before.

Your feet and back arched as you threw your head back. You let out a whine as your eyes rolled up and Thor’s hands snaked around your thighs. He pressed your legs around his head and squeezed him between them as he urged you closer and closer.

You let out a stuttered cry as you came. You slapped at the mattress as the waves crashed over you. You panted, gulping for air as the orgasm overwhelmed every inch of your mind and body. 

But Thor didn’t release you nor did he stop. His tongue continued to play with your clit as he kept his head buried between your legs. You reached to the back of his head and pushed. You were so sensitive it hurt. You needed him to stop… but it felt so good when he didn’t.

You moaned as he purred at the taste of you. He drank up your arousal and dragged his tongue up and down your folds. He once more focused on your bud and it wasn’t long before you were writhing again. Your hips bucked against him as another climax took you.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, both trying to nudge him away and draw him closer. You were trapped in confused ecstasy. You were entirely overwrought but your want never quite dwindle. Less, no more. You wanted it all.

A third orgasm shook you. A fourth, fifth, sixth. So many that you were sobbing from the sheer pain of your pleasure. Your cunt was swollen and sore and yet he still did not stop. He clung to you and kept you at the mercy of his attentions.

Your head swam as you felt yourself cresting again. Your hand slipped from the back of his head and your legs went limp over his shoulders. You closed your eyes and mewled as you ascended then suddenly you were plummeting down. 

Down into a void in which you could still feel that sweet agony in your core. In which you were both floating and falling. A darkness which swallowed you up completely. A sleep long overdue.

[snusbandxknifewife]

Can you do fanfic or headcanon explaining The resentment between Madoc and Cardan? I feel like it has something to do with Jude and no matter how much I think about it there seems to be resentment from both sides

Enjoy some light family dinner angst I hope this is intense enough!

~~~

It was no secret that Cardan and Madoc disliked one another. Anybody with eyes could see how they glared at each other over their wine glasses whenever they had to dine together. But Cardan loved his wife, and his wife clearly had some strange familial feelings that she was confused by, and so that meant that he never complained when Jude dragged him to dinner. After all, it wouldn’t happen for long, and Madoc would be out of his life unless Jude lifted the exile.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that his forehead always hurt from how strongly he frowned at dinner.

It was quickly approaching Yule and the Elfhame monarchs had agreed to take a day’s break from planning revels and attending meetings to head to the mortal world for an early holiday meal. Cardan had never celebrated Christmas, and Jude hadn’t celebrated it in years, but Oak was insistent on trying out the new holiday and Taryn was so far along in her pregnancy that they all knew she wouldn’t be getting out much in a few weeks.

That’s why, against everything Cardan wanted, he found himself glaring down his father-in-law.

They had to put in some work to properly stare at each other. With Madoc at the head of the table and Oriana opposite him, Cardan was at a disadvantage. He was sitting next to his wife, across from the Ghost, and so he had to turn his head to flash Madoc sour looks. Jude had picked up on the tension—she always did—and was gripping his thigh so tightly that he knew he’d have bruises in the morning.

Madoc took a break from glaring to ask some question about the kingdom, one that Jude answered with all the grace of a seasoned monarch. Cardan was so distracted by using the moment to take a sip of his wine that it wasn’t until the room descended into silence that he realized his wife had left him room to speak.

“My apologies, my mind was elsewhere,” he said, coming back to the conversation and offering his wife a sheepish grin. He only looked sheepish around her, only apologized genuinely for her. Anywhere else, with anyone else, he would’ve been content to continue ignoring them. But not his Jude, never his Jude.

“It’s alri—“

“Typical,” Madoc mumbled under his breath, loud enough to interrupt Jude.

Cardan and Jude both bristled.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Jude asked, her fiercely overprotective nature cutting through any hope of maintaining diplomacy. This wasn’t a state dinner, she could rip people to shreds if she wanted.

Cardan laid a hand on her back, his long fingers stretching effortlessly over the delicate silk of her dress as he wordlessly told her that he’d take care of this.

Across the table, Taryn was considering faking labor to have an excuse to get herself and Ghost out. Down the table, Oak was secretively raising his brand new phone up past his plate, already recording for posterity (as he’d started doing after Madoc “accidentally” dropped a wine glass on Cardan a month ago). Directly to Cardan’s right, Oriana was eyeing the wine glass in front of her, wondering if anyone would notice her turning the whole thing bottoms up.

Madoc stared Cardan down and the entire room grew even tenser. “I said it was typical,” he finally stated, blinking matter-of-factly. “As in, it’s typical for you to leave all conscious thought to Jude while you go off in your own world.”

“Madoc, dear, don’t speak to our king that way,” Oriana pointedly warned.

“I’ve no king, I’m a man in exile,” he shot back instantly. “All I have is a son-in-law who isn’t worth my daughter’s spit.”

Vivi cooly wrapped her arm around Heather’s shoulders, looking for the quickest exit.

Cardan, moving quickly, slid his hand from Jude’s back to her thigh and dug his fingers into her skin to keep her seated as he looked his father-in-law up and down.

“I don’t see why there’s so much animosity for a subject we agree on,” he calmly announced. “I’ve made it quite clear that I feel undeserving of the gift it is to be Jude’s husband.”

Madoc blanched a little, opening his mouth to say something.

Cardan cut him off. “Though what confuses me is the fact that you don’t seem to feel the same way about being her father. You act like you’re entitled to the roll, like you’ve offered her something she wouldn’t exist without.”

He reached down and grabbed his wine glass, swirling it around before taking a delicate sip to build the tension.

“Like you somehow have done anything other than put Jude in danger,” he continued, studying the way the light glinted off his painted nails before turning back to Madoc. “Like you were somehow key to her success.”

If they were in Elfhame, this would be about the time that guards would move to secure Madoc to keep him from attacking the king. But they weren’t in Elfhame, so no one stopped him from slamming his fists on the table and standing tall, looking ready for a fight.

Cardan didn’t give him the satisfaction of rising to face him. Instead, he remained comfortably seated beside his wife—who was shooting rapid glances between him and her father.

“I raised her!”

“You stole her,” Cardan shot back, voice betraying his disgust. “You took her from a loving mother and father, from the safety of the mortal world, and you threw her to the wolves. You gave her and her sister up to the gentry for slaughter and you dare to call that raising?”

And there it was, the genesis of Cardan’s hatred for Madoc. No matter how many family dinners they suffered through, how much time passed, he’d always despise his father-in-law for what he’d done to Jude when she was no more than a defenseless human child.

Jude had been born into a loving family, she’d had a mother and father who adored not only each other, but also their children. She’d deserved that for the rest of her life, she’d deserved the safety that her human birth should’ve afforded her.

But no, she’d been forced—at the tender age of seven—to watch the violent murder of both her parents, and then she’d been stolen away to Faerie and thrown to the wolves that made up the gentry. A lifetime of scorn and suffering that could’ve been avoided if Madoc hadn’t been so entitled and rash.

“I seem to remember your torment was always the worst,” Madoc looked like a vein was about to pop in his forehead as his voice lowered dangerously. “You trapped my daughter in a river of nixies, you drugged her and forced her to strip in front of her classmates—“

“The everapple incident wasn’t my doing.”

Cardan had been a terrible person—arguably still was when he needed to be—and he knew he’d been evil to Jude when they were children. But he’d never engineered a situation where Jude would be both inebriated and in danger. Even when he was still trying to convince himself that he hated her, her safety was always his number one concern.

“You exiled Jude when she needed you most. You left her alone and vulnerable after gaining her trust and act like I’m the monster?”

Cardan’s eye twitched. “To protect her from you. To protect her from us.”

And then he finally stood, setting down his wine glass and turning to face Madoc. His oil-slick eyes swirled with hatred and he was thankful they weren’t in Elfhame, solely because he knew that, if they were, he would’ve already been surrounded by poisonous plants.

“You didn’t see her after the Undersea, never saw how sick she was,” he growled. “I sent her away to give her time to heal, to give her the chance to fall in love with the mortal world again in the hopes that she would stay here where she was safe.”

He stepped back and pushed his chair in, pulling Jude’s out and helping her up.

“But my darling wife returned, because she’s headstrong and she’s never cared much for her own safety. I won’t lie to you, I’m thankful for it. I don’t think I would’ve survived without her.”

He went to the coatrack and grabbed Jude’s fur before walking back to wrap it around her shoulders.

“But then you took her from me.”

Madoc opened his mouth.

“Granted, you thought she was Taryn,” Cardan acknowledged. “I suppose you, her so-called loving father, never put in the work to tell the difference.”

Jude was staring at her husband, she saw how his hands shook in anger.

“But when you figured it out, when you finally looked at your daughter and saw Jude, that’s when you truly lost any hope of being a father.” Cardan looked back to Madoc, tears of fury wetting his eyes. “Because when you were faced with your teenaged daughter, the girl you stole and brought up and taught, you tried to kill her.”

Memories of Jude crashing from the rafters flirted through his mind and he bit his cheek against the wave of nausea it always brought up.

“You gutted your child and left her to die,” he whispered. “You ran her through and you dare to say I’m the one undeserving of her?”

Jude didn’t know what to say as she looked at her husband, as she felt his fingers digging into the flesh of her arm. She’d never seen him so raw with emotion, never heard him discuss his hatred of Madoc.

She didn’t fight as her husband pushed her towards the door. So lost in her own thoughts was she that she didn’t notice Cardan stop to whisper in Madoc’s ear.

“I look forward to the day Jude stops coming to the mortal world,” he admitted, “because then I know I’ll no longer have to worry about you putting her in danger.”

“And what about you?” Madoc asked, a tinge if desperation in his voice. “How will I know that you’re no longer endangering her? You, who have always been undeserving of her?”

“Your peace of mind isn’t my problem. Her’s is.”

~~~~~

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @andromeddea @jurdanhell @thesirenwashere @sweetlyvillainous @courtofjurdan @clockworkgraystairs @st00pid231