#like i could remember each loop and forgetting the meaning of love and life and death | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drowned-captain · 5 months ago

Text

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch. 4

A/N: RAAH THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON THE LAST CHAPTER IT MEANS A LOT TO ME :)) I LITERALLY WENT TO BED SMILING BECAUSE OF Y'ALL AAAH Y’ALL HAVE NO IDEA asdjkfadslfjnaei I also did a crap ton of research and watched a lot of videos on writing fight scenes, so I hope the next one is better! Also, I made this chapter a little longer because we are almost at half a dozen cupcakes in the tag list :) Enjoy!

MDNI (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts, toxic codependency

Word Count: ~ 6.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the wonderful time you had at the bar last night, you had a restless night. You swore that you wouldn’t think about your ex when you got home. You told yourself that you would just head straight to bed. You even walked through your apartment with your eyes closed! All you wanted to do was hold on to the glee of winning some cogs and the time you spent with Vi. All you wanted was to savor the sweet, savory bliss of forgetting everything wrong with your life.

But it all just slips through the cracks between your fingers like sand. You had a wonderful time, but no one to talk about it with. Your acquaintanceship with Vi ended up reminding you of your lack of companionship in general. When you were with them, their friends became your friends. Sure you never hung out with those people without your lover, but they were still your friends, right? But the minute you cut ties with that liar, it was radio silence from all of them. None of them even bothered to check up on you.

They all forgot you as fast as you shut the door on your relationship for the final time.

‘Geez, my so-called ‘friends’ broke up with me.’ you thought. It was hard to find friends in this city in general. You could always put that jinxer fit on and pretend to care about public figures like more than half of Zaun is. You could find some people to call friends through that. You could. The issue is pretending–you’re so damn tired of pretending. You almost can’t help it; three years of a horrible relationship made you an expert at the art of it, and it was getting so damn exhausting.

You remembered your conversation with Vi about cycles and loops and whatnot. So as much as you wanted to rot in bed until it was time to get ready to place another bet, you decided to get out of bed earlier. You probably got a total of four hours of on and off sleep, but whatever.

When you looked at your messy bed, you had forgotten that you were using some of your ex’s shirts as pillowcases. You strip one of the pillows of a shirt and hold it in your hands. Your thumbs brush its semi-worn out fabric, and you slowly bring it to your nose. Their scent still lingers on it. There were faint shimmer stains on it (their own line of shimmer stained clothes pretty badly). You walked up to your window, pushed the curtains aside, and opened the pane. You look down onto the street and watch the tops of people’s heads moving along below. You weren’t too high up– maybe about three stories. You hold your hand out the window, clenching the shirt. You slowly uncurl each finger until you let it go, and it floats down to the ground.

A couple of people were quick to notice it. One person grabs it only to be shoved by the other person. There is a yelling match of “I saw it first!” between them. You shut the window and let their yelling fade into the background. A part of you regretted tossing that shirt. You almost wanted to pounce on those people from your window and demand that they give it back. Instead, you fought your own tears as you went about a half-assed morning routine.

When preparing food from your half-stolen bag of semi stale fish meat, you instinctively made servings for two. Your eyes kept glancing at the extra serving on the stove as you slowly ate your (possibly radioactive) meal. At least you won’t have to cook later, right?

You get dressed into one of your favorite outfits. You might as well get some air this afternoon so you don’t have to run all the way to the arena like you did last night. You take half of your cogs with you and stuff them into a trusty bag before slinging it over your shoulder and taking off.

You walked along the bustling streets of Zaun and looked around for something to do. You stop along a bridge, walking up to the rickety railing and overlooking part of the city. It’s been a while since you were able to stop and appreciate the beauty of this place that only Zaunites like yourself can understand. Even though Piltover quite literally casts a big shadow over Zaun, it cannot snuff out the popping colors that glow even in daylight hours. You have never personally been to Piltover (not like you want to, especially because of the current political issues and all the rising problems with enforcers), but even in the distance it was very ‘sterile’ looking. In other words, not so fun.

You suddenly feel a heavy hand on your shoulder. You nearly jump out of your skin, clutching the strap of your bag as you bounce backwards, smacking the hand that touched you. Your face was twisted in aggression, glaring at whoever thought it was a good idea to sneak up on you.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” a bearded man spoke. Your face relaxed a bit, recognizing him as Vi’s handler. Still, you didn’t appreciate getting spooked. Plus, you don’t know anything about this guy other than he saved you from possibly needing a cast or three. But he could be dangerous! If only you could take someone as broad as he is down like Vi can with her opponents.

“The name’s Loris,” he holds out his hand for you to shake, “I think I saw you at that one bar a few days back. I’m one of Vi’s friends.”

You hesitate slightly before shaking his hand, “(Y/n).” You can smell alcohol on him, but he doesn’t seem wasted. He can tell that you’re still standoffish, so he turns away and leans his elbows on the rail of the bridge.

“Mind if I stand here with you for a moment? I gotta clear my head for a second before I go about my day.” He itches his beard, staring off into the distance. You stand there in silence, still suspicious. Most people who strike up a conversation in this city out of the blue probably want something, and you will not give him anything.

“I don’t own this bridge, so do what you must. I guess.” You state after a few moments of thinking.

He chuckles a bit at your tense tone before he takes another look at you, “You look like you’ve been through the grinder. It’s tough out here, isn’t it?”

You look down at yourself and frown a bit, “Gee, thanks.” So much for wearing your favorite fit.

“I meant your demeanor,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “You look like you’ve been dodging some of life’s punches. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Ain’t no bruises on that mug of yours. No offense, just an observation.”

“What’s it to you?” you ask defensively, crossing your arms. You’re still not sure what to make of him.

Loris shrugged, leaning more heavily on the railing. “Nothing, really. Just... I’ve been there. Lost a lot before I got to where I am now. Figured I’d say something in case you needed to hear it.”

“Not to be rude or anything, Loris, but I don’t think I’m in the mood for unsolicited advice, or…whatever you’re trying to do here.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, his eyebrows raising at you skeptically, "Fair enough," he says, straightening up from the railing. "Didn’t mean to step on your toes." He stretches his arms behind his head, giving a small grin. "Just figured I’d try to be neighborly, but I’ll back off."

You’re a little taken aback by how easily he relents, expecting some pushback. Instead, he fishes a cog from his pocket, idly rolling it between his fingers as he looks back out over the city. “I appreciate what you’ve done for Vi.”

You tilt your head. “She told you about me? Wait. I haven’t even done anything for her. I’ve only spoken to her, like, twice. And the first time didn’t even go so well. I don’t even know her all that much.”

“No, she has not spoken about you. But you’re the one who had her go home both times with a cup of water, right?”

“That’s… yeah. Everybody should drink water with their booze. No biggie.”

Loris pockets his cog and pushes away from the rail, the metal making a creaky noise. "Well, don’t let me keep you. Gotta grab Vi for some pregaming soon—busy night ahead."

Before he walked away, he looked at you again, his expression softer. “Take care of yourself, (Y/n). And... try not to let whatever’s chasing you catch up.”

With that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to wonder how someone you barely knew could read you like that.

Vi was tossing out her empty bottles outside of her apartment. She dusted her hands off and let out a somewhat satisfied sigh. She was up earlier than usual, which kind of felt nice for a change. There was another part of her, however, that gnawed at the back of her mind. Being awake and sober meant that her brain was free to juggle memories of Caitlyn around while reminding her of all the love that she lost in her life. It felt like there was a hole in her chest. How can a heart feel so heavy when there was an entire chunk missing from it?

She clenches her fists and shakes her head as if all the haunting memories and thoughts will fly off of her. If only it worked that way. It didn’t help that she dreamt of her last night. She dreamt of the life that she envisioned with Caitlyn; Waking up to her. Their hands combing through each other's hair. Seeing that adorable gap-toothed smile. Feeling her soft, perfect skin. Breathing in her scent. Walking the streets of Piltover together and basking in the sunlight.

She spun around and punched the wall behind her with an angry snarl.

“Well that was a close one.” Loris spoke, staring directly at Vi’s arm. If he were just a few inches closer, she would have probably punched him right in the chest.

Vi lets out a heavy sigh, shaking her hand off, “Hey, Loris. Sorry, I didn’t know you were right there.”

“Water under the bridge,” he hums, turning on his heel to rest against the alley’s wall, “You’re up early.”

“Maybe I just wanted to pregame longer.” Vi straightens her jacket out, the black leather squeaking with her movement.

Loris’s eyes look past Vi, seeing a large bag with the necks of glass bottles sticking out of it. He doesn’t say anything about it.

“Shall we get started with it, then?” he asks, pushing himself off the wall.

Vi leads the way. After a few moments she speaks up, “Make sure you tell me when you’re behind me. I could’ve accidentally hurt you.”

“Eh, s’alright. That would be the second time I’ve snuck up on someone today.”

Vi shakes her head disapprovingly. “You have to stop that. Not everybody takes kindly to that shit.”

Loris chuckles lightly, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. But sometimes, it’s the only way to catch someone in their natural state, you know?" He thought about the way you looked out towards the city. The way your eyebrows were furrowed in thought. He almost laughed at how high you jumped when he spooked you even though a part of him felt kind of bad for it.

Vi side-eyes him, her mouth pulling into a line. "That’s one way to earn a black eye."

"Noted," Loris says with a smirk, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Though, between you and me, I think most people are too distracted to notice me sneaking around. The current state of Zaun has everyone clouded nowadays.”

Vi snorts softly, her hands in her jacket pockets. "You’re not wrong about that." She glances down at the cracked pavement beneath her boots. "Guess you’ve been busy keeping tabs on everyone, huh?"

"Only the important ones," Loris replies, his tone more serious now. "Speaking of, you alright, Vi? You seem… tenser than usual."

Vi slows her pace, her jaw tightening. "Just didn’t get much sleep, that’s all," she mutters, deflecting.

Loris doesn’t push, but the knowing look in his eyes says he doesn’t buy it. Instead, he switches gears. "Fair enough. Maybe the fight tonight’ll help clear your head. Nothing like knocking someone out to shake off the cobwebs, right? And if that’s not enough, there’s always a celebratory drink afterwards.”

Vi’s face softens. Her heartbeat quickens just a bit in anticipation. The image of you sitting at the bar blurred out Vi’s looping memories of Caitlyn. This time she wasn’t too fucked up to remember the conversation that she had with you the other night. She really, really hopes that you’ll be there to talk some more.

Loris catches a brief glimpse of Vi smiling. It makes him smile.

The day gets late enough for you to head to the arena. It was nice not having to rush for once, so you follow the crowd without a worry. Maybe you could get a front row seat this time!

However, something catches your attention. Your ears picked up on some gossip ahead of you.

“I heard Vi is guaranteed to lose tonight,” says one voice.

“Many people were saying that yesterday, but they were wrong. Did you see that guy? There was no way she was supposed to beat him, but she did. She always wins,” responds the other.

“I’m serious! Today she will lose. The Pit’s losing money because the majority are betting on Vi. I heard that tonight the opponent will be . . .”

You struggle to hear the conversation as more people follow the crowd, drowning that gossip with other voices. You think about it for a second. Should you not bet on Vi tonight? But that one guy says that she always manages to win. That one opponent seemed to have the biggest advantage being quick, big, and sturdy. Vi did take him down. You nod to yourself.

‘Yeah, gossip is just gossip. Vi never loses, right? That’s what everyone says.’

You get to the arena early enough to place a bet. You give up all the cogs you took with you and receive your ticket. When you were picking a seat, you decided to sit somewhere near the front. Hopefully you wouldn’t get queasy from seeing blood fly off of the fighters up close.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, so you look behind you. Upon seeing Loris, your face lit up in surprise.

“Oh! Loris, right? I guess you’d be here. Being Vi’s friend and all.”

He takes a step down, sitting next to you. You tense up a bit, not expecting him to move seats.

“Eeyup. Always here to support her.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He looks at you. “So you are a fan of hers, huh?”

You grip your ticket tightly. "This is my second time here, so it might be too soon for me to put a label like that on myself. I will admit, though, she’s something else in the ring."

"That she is," he says, his voice tinged with pride. "Vi’s got more fight in her than anyone I’ve ever met. But," he pauses, his tone lowering slightly, "it’s not just about the wins for her."

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Loris straightens up, offering a small shrug. "Just saying, it’s not always about the glory. Sometimes, it’s about proving something to yourself. You know what I mean?"

‘Prove what exactly?’ you think, ‘If she’s going through her own grief, then is there more to punching someone’s lights out as a coping mechanism?’

You shift in your seat, recalling the gossip you overheard earlier, "Do you think she’ll win tonight?"

Loris looks at you for a moment before responding, his gaze steady, "She’s got the fire in herself to win. But I suppose anything can happen."

You nod slowly, the weight of his words settling in. As the crowd grows louder and the arena begins to fill, you can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and unease. Tonight's fight feels different somehow, and you wonder if Loris senses it too.

The stadium lights shut off, then the arena spotlights beam onto the pit. The crowd howls with excitement. You and Loris stay seated and quiet. Your leg bounces as you sit, feeling your clothing become a bit warm from the nerves. When the referee called out Vi’s name, you and Loris clapped.

Then you see her. She steps into the ring, arm raised into the air as nearly the entire audience cheers for her. Her steps are just a bit unstable– perhaps she’s been drinking beforehand. You slow your clapping upon seeing the opponent enter the ring. Then another opponent.

“Tonight is going to be a little bit different,” the referee says through the speakers, “Frontrunner Vi here has been tearing shit up for the past few months.”

The crowd hollers in agreement.

“Now, Vi is no stranger to fighting two people at once,” he laughs into the mic, “Does everyone think our champion has what it takes?”

The crowd screams louder. You want to cover your ears even though you agree with them all. However, you can feel your palms dampen at the thought of Vi having to fight two people. But if everyone seemed confident in her, and if she’s done it before, then she should be fine.

The bell rings, and the two opponents waste no time closing in on Vi. One is a tall and lean woman, with quick movements that scream agility, while the other is a hulking brute, slower but with arms as thick as Loris’ neck. Vi, her posture loose but ready, cracks her knuckles as a determined look crosses her face.

The agile one darts in first, aiming a sharp jab at her ribs. Vi sidesteps effortlessly, grabbing her arm and twisting it, using the momentum to slam her into the brute. The crowd roars as the two stumble apart, clearly thrown off by her opening move.

The brute growls, charging at her like a bear. Vi plants her feet, waiting until the last second before pivoting out of his path. She drives her elbow into his side as he barrels past, a sickening thud echoing through the arena. The brute grunts in pain but doesn’t go down, swinging a massive fist toward her head.

Vi barely manages to dodge it, feeling the end of his knuckle brush against her ear. The movement leaves her exposed to the agile one, who’s already recovered. She lands a quick kick to Vi’s thigh, causing her to fall. Vi quickly rolls out of the way when the brute slams his fists onto the ground. She springs to her feet, but is kicked down again by the slimmer one. The brute takes the opportunity to grab Vi, lifting her and squeezing the air out of her.

Vi swings her head back, making contact with his nose. He loosens his grip, and she drops to the ground, spinning to deliver a knee to his gut. Vi clutches her stomach, attempting to catch her breath. The agile one circles Vi as the brute covers his nose, staggering backwards. He shakes blood off of his hand, snarling in anger.

Vi’s eyes flick between them, calculating. When the agile one lunges, she ducks under his swing, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. Using her momentum, Vi launches her into the brute, the two of them crashing to the ground in a heap.

Vi, victorious, raises her fists high as the crowd chants her name.

In the crowd, you excitedly cheer for her. You look at Loris, whose face drops in horror. You quickly look back into the ring.

The two opponents are standing back up, throwing empty glass vials at the walls of the pit as they wipe their mouths. From where you were sitting, you can see a familiar substance dripping from their lips. Shimmer.

Vi looks back at her opponents, quickly putting her fists into a fighting position. You can see her face from where you sit. Her body language says ‘come at me’, but her eyes are laced with fear. Like she’s remembering something. Like she has seen something like this before.

The look of Vi’s opponents was enough to scare sobriety back into her. She feels like she’s fifteen again. She’s seeing flashbacks. Tears well up in her eyes.

As Vi is frozen in her stance the brute rushes in again, landing a right hook before slamming a heavy blow into her ribs. She gasps, doubling over, and the agile one takes the opportunity to sweep her legs out from under her.

Vi hits the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her once more. The crowd falls into a stunned silence as she struggles to get up, her arms trembling under her weight.

“Get up, Vi!” someone shouts from the audience, their voice nearly drowned out by the growing murmur of uncertainty. You look to whoever shouted; their voice was close enough to you. You caught a glimpse of the cloaked figure from yesterday. You turn back to the fight quickly.

The brute grabs her by the arm, hauling her to her feet. She swings wildly, desperation in her eyes, but he blocks her punch easily. The agile fighter moves in, landing a brutal uppercut that snaps her head back. Blood gushes from Vi’s nose as she struggles to find her footing.

The brute’s fist comes crashing down, and this time, she doesn’t get up.

The bell dings, signaling the end of the fight. The crowd erupts, but not in cheers—there’s a mix of shock, anger, and disbelief. If there was any cheering, they were concealed by angry yelling.

You sit frozen in your seat, your heart sinking as Vi lies on the ground. Loris stands abruptly, his face a mask of worry. “I need to check on her,” he mutters, darting toward the ring. You stand up from your seat, peering over the pit. Vi’s eyes are barely open, her breathing heavy.

You watch helplessly, gripping your ticket so tightly it crumples in your hand. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Vi was supposed to win. She always won.

But tonight, the champion had fallen.

The ringing in Vi’s ears was almost enough to drive her insane, but she was too out of it to express her discomfort. Her vision was blurry and coming in and out. She could barely hear any talking, if there was anyone speaking. She felt her body moving, some pressure on her sore belly as the ground beneath her got further away from her vision.

Her eyes fluttered open, trying to process what was happening. She is lowered to the ground, propped against a wall.

“Vander?” she mumbled out, her eyes trying to focus on her rescuer. Her head lols to the side, eyes shutting. Loris gently pats the side of her face, making her open her eyes again.

“You with me, Vi?” he asks. Vi grumbles, then winces as she puts a hand to her face.

“That’s it, come on. You’re okay,” Loris sighs.

Vi groans in pain, holding her sides now, “What the fuck happened?” she squeaks out, “Where are we?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers, “Just breathe. We’re near the locker rooms, but don’t worry. No one’s gonna hurt you here.”

“Those fuckers. They cheated, didn’t they?” she hisses, picking dried blood off of her upper lip.

“Don’t worry about it.” Loris repeats himself. Vi angrily tries to stand up, but Loris forces her to sit back down, “Damn it, Vi. Won’t you stay put?”

“I want a rematch. I was too tipsy, my head wasn’t in the game,” she demands.

“You can ask for a rematch later. You have to rest right now, Vi.”

You curse to yourself, now owing The Pit money. At least you didn’t bet all your cogs; there were still some at your apartment. You wish you bet half of the half that you brought with you. The people around you were reasonably upset. In fact, you would be upset too if you had zero connection with Vi.

Despite barely knowing a thing about her, maybe it’s the fact that you had a full-on conversation with her yesterday that made your worry for her quickly eclipse your disappointment about the bet. Maybe it’s the fact that both of you have established a connection over having suffered the same kind of emotional pain. Maybe it’s the fact that she looked so hopeful to see you again. Maybe it’s the fact that she seemed genuinely interested in becoming your friend. Maybe it’s the fact that you want to be her friend.

You fan your face with your hands, anxiety creeping up on you. You search the crowd for Loris, but can’t find him anywhere. You choose a random direction to walk in and stick to it. After a few moments of walking, you find yourself at the entrance of the ring. Hoping that Vi and Loris were around there somewhere, you cautiously enter the dark hall.

“Loris?” you whisper-shout. “Vi?” But there is no response.

You can see the ring ahead. You linger at the arch, looking around to the best of your ability to make sure that no one is around. You step into the light, looking up at all the empty seats in the arena. You don’t understand how Vi can do something so scary like this. A bunch of people screaming at you and having the weight of the title of ‘champion’ on your shoulders was enough to make you lightheaded.

You look at the floor, seeing old bloodstains on the concrete. You wonder how much of Vi’s blood is forever merged with the floor beneath you. You wonder how many peoples’ blood are also a part of this pit. Your shoe crunches on some glass, stopping your thoughts.

You crouch down a bit, seeing some dried purple shimmer stains among the pieces of glass. There was one vial up ahead that wasn’t completely shattered, so you reach over to it and pick it up. Your fingers trace over the intact part of the vial, turning it in your hand. But then you squint your eyes when you feel an embossment on the glass. You bring it close to your face, then immediately drop it. You stand up and back away from the scene, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand up because you recognized the embossment as your ex’s signature.

You run out of the arena. You wouldn’t put it past The Pit to use shady tactics for monetary gain, but out of all shimmer dealers it HAD to be theirs. You duck into an alleyway, looking at your fingers. There were tiny glowing droplets of shimmer on them, and you frantically wiped your hands off on the wall.

As you steady your breathing, you sink to the floor and hug your knees to your chest. Your mind wanders to all the times your ex would come home with heaps of cogs from selling their special formula. They would use their own supply sometimes just for the heck of it, and it would scare you. Luckily they never forced you to try it, but they would offer it to you constantly. You would never touch that stuff. Once, they got mad at you for refusing to help them sell it. Having an involvement in ruining people’s lives messed with your moral compass. You exclaim in frustration and bury your face in your hands, getting upset at yourself for even considering selling shimmer before you placed your first bet.

You pick your head back up, wondering if Vi was okay. Where could Loris have taken her?

Standing up, you walk around cautiously. There weren’t many people around. Most of them were hanging out in corners. Your nose burns with the smell of smoke and shimmer as gravel crunches beneath your shoes. Some people held out their hands for a spare cog, but you ignored them. Not like you had any on yourself at this time.

Eventually, you see the back of a familiar figure up ahead. You quicken your pace, “Loris!”

He turns around and slows his pace, letting you catch up. When you reach his side, he has Vi in his arms. Her face is wrinkled into a grimace.

“Vi!” You gasp out, putting a hand to your mouth upon seeing all the blood and bruises on her body. Her eyes slowly open, finding you.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” she croaks out, trying to find it in herself to laugh. “You saw my ass get handed to me. Now I’m being carried like a fucking baby.”

“Stop it,” you say almost in a scolding tone, “How do you feel? Are you alright? Could I get you something?” You bombard her with questions.

Your concern makes her scoff, a smile creeping onto her face. “I could really use a drink right now, (Y/n). That would make me feel a whole lot better.”

“I’ll get you one, just… hold on, okay?” You dig through your bag, struggling to see anything from how dark it is.

“Sweet as a cupcake,” Vi mumbles, closing her eyes, “Sweet things are hard to come by in Zaun, ya know.”

You give her a quizzical look, not like she can see your confusion.

“She’s concussed.” Loris explains. That explains it, you guess.

You find some spare napkins at the bottom of your bag, clutching them in your hands. You look around as you walk, spotting a shortcut to the bar strip through an alleyway.

“I’m sorry, cupcake,” Vi whines, her face scrunching up in a mixture of grief and pain, “I could’ve been better.”

Now you were very confused, but she was probably talking about her performance in the ring.

“It’s a straight walk to Vi’s apartment. Go get her a drink. I won’t be too far when you’re done.” Loris motions to that alleyway with his head. You nod at him, taking a light jog to the shortcut.

The strip was not nearly as lively as it was. The people who were standing around were moping about losing their bets, therefore having to reason to celebrate. You were let into the bar without a problem, and it sure as hell was a lot emptier than usual. You have never seen such unenthusiastic dancing in your life.

No one was really talking at the bar either.

You rush over towards the bartender.

“Ah, the water girl.” He greets as he polishes some glasses.

“Just one water please,” you drum your fingers on the counter in anticipation. It only takes him a few moments to grab you a plastic cup with stale water in it.

“I heard Vi lost tonight’s fight. I guess I won’t be making much today.” He sighs as he hands it over to you.

“None of us made anything today, so welcome to the club…” mutters a random customer.

You hightail it out of there, not caring enough about engaging in conversation with the bartender or other customers. You walk quickly, trying not to slosh the water around too much and spill any.

You quickly find Loris and Vi again. You dampen the napkins from your bag in the water and lightly dab Vi’s nose to clean her up. She hisses in pain, nearly swatting your hand away.

“Let me get the blood off of you.” You say firmly. Vi’s eyes open, and she tries to pick her head up. You lightly press her forehead down so she is fully resting on Loris’ forearm. “Down.”

“Let me walk. I want to walk,” she grumbles, wiggling out of her lying position. Loris gently sets her on her feet. Vi stumbles as her feet hit the ground, her legs barely holding her up. “See? I’m fine,” she mumbles, though her knees wobble dangerously. Loris steadies her with one arm, but you’re already stepping closer, the cup of water trembling slightly in your hands.

“You’re not fine, Vi. Just let me—” you start, but her sharp glare cuts you off.

“Don’t baby me,” she snaps, though her voice cracks halfway through. “I’ve had worse nights.” She leans heavily on Loris, her bravado faltering as her breaths come shallow and uneven.

The street feels suffocating now, the smell of smoke and sweat clinging to the damp air. Somewhere in the distance, a bottle shatters, followed by muffled shouting. You glance nervously over your shoulder, half-expecting to see shadows closing in.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” you say softly, trying to meet Vi’s gaze. “No one’s judging you for losing.”

She laughs bitterly, rasping like sandpaper, “You think they’re not judging? This city eats the weak alive. If you lose, you’re nothing.”

You try not to take her sudden snappiness to heart, but her icy glare was enough to make you look away in submission. Her ego was probably more bruised than her body was. Nonetheless, her words hit harder than they should, dredging up memories you’ve tried to bury.

“They cheated, Vi. It shouldn’t—” Loris was also cut off.

“I don’t fucking care, Loris!” she snaps.

“Vi,” you say, your voice gentle, “you’re not nothing.”

She looks at you then, her eyes glassy but piercing. For a moment, it’s as if she sees right through you, past your carefully constructed walls. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she murmurs, her voice softer now but no less sharp.

You step back, stung, but Loris steps in. “Enough, Vi,” he says firmly, “You’re concussed, confused, and bleeding. Save the tough act for later.”

You walk with them, trailing slightly behind. Eventually, the three of you climb up a small flight of stairs up to a shady-looking building. There is a rickety staircase attached to the right of it, so you and Loris carefully bring Vi over to it. She shrugs both of you off, putting a foot on one of the stairs and supporting herself with the railing.

“Did you get me a drink?” she asks, looking back at you. You quietly hand her the water cup. You brace yourself, expecting her to throw it at you. Instead, she takes it upstairs with her.

You relax, watching her leave. You exchange a glance with Loris, who rubs the back of his neck, looking equally drained. The faint creak of the rickety staircase echoes above, each step sounding like it might give way beneath her.

"Don’t take it to heart, (Y/n). There’s plenty of venom in her words, but she means no harm. She’s not in the right state of mind either," Loris mutters, breaking the silence.

“Has she ever been in the right state of mind?” Your voice is laced with bitterness.

“You know,” Loris surmised, “She really did look forward to seeing you tonight.” He ignored your question.

“Did she tell you that?” you scoff, skepticism in your tone.

“Not exactly, but last night she was probably the happiest I’ve ever seen. She kept looking to the sky today like she was waiting for time to pass,” he looks down at you, a smile on his face, “You seem like you’d be a great friend for her. Like I said, I appreciate what you’ve done for Vi. And I am thanking you for what you’ve done for her today.”

You exhale through your nose, unsure if Loris was just telling you that to make you feel better.

For a moment, the two of you stand there, listening to the sounds of the city creep back into focus. The buzz of lights, the low hum of voices muffled by brick walls. It’s almost peaceful if you ignore the sour stench of garbage and the flickering street lights overhead.

“You gonna hang around?” Loris asks, his tone neutral.

You hesitate, glancing back at the staircase Vi just climbed. There’s a part of you that wants to follow her, to make sure she doesn’t collapse in that dingy apartment. But another part of you—the part that remembers the weight of Vi’s concussed words—deems it inappropriate for you to intrude in her personal space. You were reminded that the two of you were far from that level.

“Nah, I think she wants space.”

“Alright then. Don’t worry too much about her, (Y/n), I’ll see how Vi’s holding up tomorrow.”

You nod at him, “Take care, Loris.”

As you turn to leave, you can’t shake the feeling that Vi’s words will stick with you long after tonight. ‘You don’t know a damn thing about me.’ She was right—but the question gnaws at you: Do you want to? And if you do, will you end up losing yourself in the process? Did yesterday's conversation mean nothing to her? Because for a moment, it meant a lot to you.

The thoughts linger, heavy and suffocating, as you walk away into the neon haze of the city night.

End of Ch. 4

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch.3 Ch. 5

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo @baylegend6 @winchestergirlspn @charcoal-heart

#arcane #arcane x reader #pit fighter vi #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane vi x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane vi x you #arcane x you #arcane x female reader #the rebound

56 notes · View notes

yannig · 26 days ago

Text

Old QL Game

Rules: Think about the oldest BLs you've ever watched. They have to have been released prior to 2020. Now name 5 - 10 iconic scenes that you cannot forget.

Tagged by @my-rose-tinted-glasses <3 Thank you ^^

I always love tag games, but I gotta be honest here, I hesitated quite a bit about this one. I haven't watched that many shows yet, and most of them where recent. So I had to go back through my watched list and look up dates to see how dire the situation was ^^'

Turns out I've watched exactly two (2) BLs that came out before 2020! And that's counting Guardian, which is technically a bromance, but only because of Chinese censorship so I'm counting it anyway (also have you looked at these two? they're so obviously in love it's ridiculous, even with the censorship). Also I just finished UWMA and I need to talk about it.

So you get 3 scenes each, let's go!

Guardian (2018)

(gifs by @lunlvns)

This scene breaks me every time, but probably not as bad as it breaks Zhao Yunlan. So much tension packed in this one scene. The anguish of a Shen Wei who is clearly not well but refuses to talk about it, that absolute devotion to Zhao Yunlan that doesn't seem to have any basis, and Zhao Yunlan torn between confusion and worry. Chef's kiss.

And of course, the source of that devotion. Zhao Yunlan being the first to treat Shen Wei as a person rather than a weapon or a mythical figure.

It always breaks my heart a little, how easily Shen Wei falls for him. How starved he is for warmth and affection.

Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei reuniting after the time loop closes. Finally back together after days, if not weeks (months?), of worrying about each other. Finally on the same page after months of lies and secrets.

So much relief and love in this scene.

Until We Meet Again (2019)

Dean meeting his grandmother for the first time absolutely wrecked me.

Finally meeting the grandma who's missed him for the last twenty years. But also finally meeting the woman who should have been his sister-in-law.

Ahn first reaction to learning Dean has a boyfriend being "please, please don't hurt yourself" because the only thing she can think about is how she lost her baby brother. Her forgiving Korn immediately because it wasn't his fault.

Dean promising to bring her back the brother he feels he took from her, just as he promises to be a good grandson and come see her more often. Him switching between calling her Grandma and P'Ahn.

Each of these relationships would be heartbreaking on their own, but the superposition of the two just makes me feel so much.

The same but in reverse: Pharm meeting Dean's mom and breaking down instantly.

Intouch's memories coming back so hard he actually passes out. Breaking down in tears once he wakes up because this is his baby niece whom he adored and she's suddenly a middle-aged woman and he never got to see her grow up. Getting to hug her for the first time in this life/since yesterday, and it making things worse as much as it makes them better. That little "abracadabra" she still uses to comfort people, just like when she was a child.

Pharm pulling himself together just long enough to get to Dean's room and break down again, harder. Because he might have just met his boyfriend's mom, and her acceptance is certainly a relief, but through him, Intouch is grieving the relationship he didn't get to have with the niece he loved so dearly. And it hurts so bad. He's found her again but it only serves to underline how much he's lost her.

And of course Alin takes it as Pharm being overwhelmed by her easy acceptance of his relationship with Dean. That was, after all, a pretty abrupt coming-out & meeting the parents combo. But how could she not accept them, when she's thinking about the uncle she barely remembers but never forgot. Pulling out the few photos she has of him and hoping things turn out better this time around.

P'Sin confronting his father about the secret he kept around Korn means so much to me.

Because I understand why Krit didn't talk about him. He clearly never recovered from Korn's death and his family didn't either. And wanting to protect your loved ones, especially your children, from your own pain, is something we can all understand.

Especially when your son comes out as gay, and even if now he's old enough to understand, even if you wanted to talk to him about this uncle he doesn't even suspect existed (and you don't), how are your supposed to do that?

How do you tell your gay son he had a gay uncle, who was pushed to suicide at a young age, mostly by your own father's homophobia? How do you tell him without destroying his relationship with his grandfather, who is still alive and was profoundly changed by the loss of his son? How do you tell him without making it sound like a death sentence?

"I want you and Sorn to be happy" and I didn't think knowing about this tragedy would do anything but hurt you

But in P'Sin's shoes, I would have wanted to know too.

Not only is it major family history and generational trauma (and an explanation of why you barely saw the uncle you did have), it's queer family history.

And the knowledge, the confirmation that queer people have existed before us, especially in our family, especially as close as a single generation away, is vital to anchoring us in the world. Even when it's tragic. Even when it hurts.

Choosing exactly 3 scenes per show was hard actually. So much to talk about!

I had a lot of fun, thank again for the tag Rose!

I'm a bit late so I think pretty much everyone I know has played at this point, but if you've read that far and wants to play (or play again), consider yourself tagged! ^^

#yes this was just an excuse to rant about uwma why do you ask #can you tell the family dynamics in this show wrecked me?#i'll probably rewatch the second half of the show a few times #i'll have to watch some more old bl because these two were definitely worth the watch!#but i'm terribly easily influenced so i tend to watch what's on my dash ^^'#tag game #old bls tag game #mine

15 notes · View notes

sockatoothewafflebird · 5 months ago

Text

I MISSED IT.

oh my god. if i had known sooner, i would have done something- drawn a tribute, maybe- for this show. this show is a part of me. this show has been with me through so much and it is impossible to overstate how much it means to me. it was there during the best and worts times of my life. i cannot ever ever imagine my life without this show.

so, as a tribute to it, because i MISSED THE DAMN ANNIVERSARY OHMYGOD, i'll tell my story with it. i feel like it should be shared because i know there are others out there that appreciate the show just as much as i do. this is pretty long so uhhh word wall warning teehee

i remember when i first discovered it,

about halfway into 2020. season one had finished airing by the time i found it. i had heard things about this "lumity" characyer and decided to try it out because i was an "ally" at the time (oh, how things can change).

it wasn't on a streaming service yet, nor did my family use cable TV, so i watched the entirety of the first season through clips pirated on youtube.

i fell in love with it. watched every theory video i could get my grubby little hands on, watched reaction videos, watched those iconic lumity animatics and listened to the songs on loop for months. it became a part of me.

and, guess what? i made the lego eda meme my pfp on my school laptop (remember that one guys?? oh man that was a WHILE ago) and someone in my school, a new guy, asked me about it. said he liked my pfp and asked if he could sit with me and my friends during lunch. and now, even after both of us moving thousands of miles away, we're still in touch.

that was FOUR YEARS AGO. i know that seems kind of a short amount of time, but i've never held a friend that long before, having moved around a lot in my life. long story short the owl house got me like half the friends i have today.

anyway, back to the show.

i can never forget the hype when season 2 was announced.

i remember scrounging youtube like a starving dog for any content, teasers, theories, etc etc etc i could physically find. i was a pretty sheltered kid back then so i couldn't see any hype for it on social media other than youtubers gushing about theories. but i felt like i was there with everyone, squealing and kicking our feet together over our favorite show getting a new season.

most vividly, i remember being fucking pissed when i saw that the third season we could've had was cut short. i remember all the angry videos, and the petitions, everyone, everyone was all collectively screaming for this to change. we wanted the show to get what it deserved, but alas, it's Disney. so of course we just had to make do.

when season two began airing i forgot all about my anger. i forgot everything because, i had to watch it as soon as possible. i'll remind you, dear random internet user, that my family did not have cable TV at the time, so i couldn't watch it the second it aired there. i watched youtubers' reactions to the episodes.

it was the best feeling ever waking up on a saturday and seeing all of the reaction streams to the episode from all my favorite youtubers- i had to watch it all through the tiny top left corner of my phone screen and i was ecstatic. i loved being able to watch the show with everyone else, even if i sometimes missed reaction premiers or streams and got to them a day late- it was in the top ten most fun months of my life.

oh, and, do you remember? do we all remember Through The Looking Glass Ruins? the episode where gus develops his character and powers, and also the episode in which... you know... amity and luz indirectly admit their feelings for one another? TO each other? you just had to be there for the EXPLOSIONS that happened online that day. the absolute SCREAMS of joy from everyone when amity cheek-kissed luz at the end. it was amazing to witness so many people everywhere, in my social circle and online, collectively cheering and shouting for joy over a queer couple. a sapphic couple, portrayed positively, and casually, and OPENLY.

you have no idea how amazing it felt, after years of questioning myself, to see that on screen. to see that and to see everyone happy about it.

in the time between season one and season two's release, i opened up about questioning my sexuality to my parents, and they were... reluctantly supportive. i took a ton of time to figure it out myself, like maybe two years of constantly cycling though labels and wondering and wondering and thinking really really hard about it.

i remember seeing luz and amity very clearly being a potential couple in the show, and then they actually BECOME A CANON COUPLE a few episodes later, and feeling utter jealousy because i wanted what they had. the world exploded because, for a lot of people, this was a huge finally moment. finally, we have something good for ourselves. i remember watching and re-watching the lumity scenes in the first part of season two over and over and over, and thinking, "i don't want this with a boy. i want it like that." and it was liberating. i cannot thank this show enough for that feeling of fully accepting myself as a 100% organic home-grown lesbian.

that's just my experience with the show, but i'm sure there are tons of other similar stories, because this show was my first exposure to positive queer rep (raine whispers and amity blight are me favorite characters, i think you can guess why) and that changed everything for me.

anyway, on with the show.

the second part of season two released, and the fandom went wild. i cried. i sobbed. the finale was amazing, the lumity moments were amazing (they're portrayed as one of the healthiest couples i've ever seen in modern media ohmygod), the story was amazing. every episode, banger after banger. every minute, smile after tear after mind-blowing moment. the owl house team took disney's smelly, rotten lemons, and they made fucking lemonade. the best lemonade i've ever had.

and also, can i talk about how amazing it is to see so much representation of usually horribly portrayed groups? luz is canonically ADHD. many characters could also be seen as neurodivergent (gus my beloved) eda's curse is a stand-in for chronic illness. hunter's entire story is one about abuse, and belos's is a story of how a person can become a monster, about how sometimes monsters cannot and should not be redeemed. this show is a fucking masterclass in rep.

anyway, "season three" (fuck yoy disney) was amazing, and every episode made me bawl.

i remember seeing that they released the episodes in youtube, and i remember the absolute beauty it was to see millions upon millions of views for it. i remember watching the first one while making myself an omelette. that omelette ended up having my tears in it. i'll have you know that i almost never cry at media, so the owl house really fucking achieved something with all of the tears i shed.

i remember crying when luz "died," crying when she came back and screamed in bel-ass' face , "EAT THIS, SUCKAAA"- and i remember crying at the collective "byeeee" from the whole cast. i remember feeling a sense of bittersweetness that it was over. but the whole cast got the endings they deserved, and that was enough for me.

the owl house is a part of me now.

the owl house's run was a comfort when the news was screaming and crying, it was a comfort when i needed escape, and it was a huge part of the person i am today. i cannot ever thank this show enough.

i'll probably draw something to commemorate the anniversary if i ever find the time, but for now, this post is a way for me to send my appreciation towards the fandom, the creators in the fandom, and the creators of the show that made it possible. this show is over now and has been for years, but it will never leave me. happy five years, everyone! here's to many more! 🥂

20 notes · View notes

rainintheevening · 1 year ago

Text

Susan Anna Pevensie

No one else could have picked out the tremor in those graceful loops of ink, but she did. He did.

His hand, as he took the pen, was warm, and she caught his whisper as he bent down: "See there, you are an artist. What do I keep telling you?"

She smiled, just a little.

He signed and dated, and she leaned into his hip, grateful, throat aching as she wrapped her fingers tighter around the bouquet in her lap. Five white lilies, and two red roses, and forget-me-nots all around.

They would drive out to the cemetery afterward. Fred had been the one to suggest it, to let her know it was alright, even natural, to remember the dead on a day celebrating new life.

She looked up, sat straighter as he laid down the pen and made room for the witnesses to step in.

Fredrick Maxmillian Pilkington

She let herself smile at the dreadful, smudged left-handed signature. "No, that's what tells me you're the artist, dear."

"I suppose I'll have to choose which name to put on the paintings," he said thoughtfully. "Ah, Pilkington for the bad ones, Pevensie for the good ones, I suppose."

And when her eyes filled up with tears, she felt his arm around her shoulders, and his kiss in her hair, and she closed her eyes, thinking I don't deserve him. I don't deserve him at all. How did he ever come to choose me?

She was so uncertain about things, so careful and guarded and prickly. She had very nearly driven him away twice. But he had come back, he had stayed in her life, and now he was choosing to be in it for the rest of it.

As long as we both shall live.

Susan closed her eyes as their lips found each other, let the tears spill down her cheeks.

I don't think I deserve it, she was saying in her heart. But I choose you back. I choose you too.

The tears didn't show in the pictures, only her standing there in Mother's old wedding dress, clutching her flowers, and Fred in his old uniform, arms around her waist, resting his chin on her head.

Susan, from the Hebrew Shoshana/Shoshan, meaning lotus flower or lily, also suggestive of purity and beauty. The name of Dr. Susan Crocker, a pioneering physician. The name of Susan B. Anthony an American suffragist. The name of Susan Hiscock, MBE, who crewed with her husband aboard their sailing ship.

A name, before it's explosion of popularity c. 1930, characterized by several poets, societal reformers, physicians, journalists, and freethinkers.

It was his suggestion, taking her name on the end of his.

"Look, I've got five older brothers, Lord knows there's enough Pilkingtons in the world. We aren't rich, we aren't titled, honestly, I'm not sure my parents would even notice if I went and became a Communist. They won't mind. I'd be honoured to carry on the Pevensie name, and no mistake."

Susan had thought of her father, how she'd brushed him off, ignored his advice, called him old and 'stuck in tradition'. She hadn't said anything mean when she'd left for America, but she certainly hadn't said anything kind or particularly loving.

She'd come back after the accident, come back to England with one suitcase and a hatbox, and never even considered leaving again.

How could she leave when all that had really mattered was here? Here but gone. All gone to ghosts, holes in the fabric of her reality, in the space of an empty armchair, a silent kitchen, rumpled sheets on a bed, unfinished letters, overdue library books.

Fred had been the first real, solid thing in her life After.

And she couldn't help thinking how her father would like him. All this time, and she still cared what he thought, wished he could have been there to walk her down a church aisle– She tried not to think too hard about that.

"Fredrick Maxmillian Pilkington Pevensie. That's as posh a name as my mother could possibly wish for." Fred had taken her hand, let his grin fade down to a soft smile. "But only if it's alright with you, love."

To her knowledge, Peter had been quite comfortable as a bachelor, but Ed had been close to engaged (she'd found the ring in his sock drawer); they would both have been wonderful fathers, both would have liked Fred.

She'd wiped her cheeks. "Sorry, I keep thinking I'll stop crying one of these days."

"Doesn't have to be today," he'd said, passing over a hanky.

"I think they'd be honoured," she said at last. "To have it be you. My family name—it's something I share with them, and... I'd be happy to keep it."

"Then keep it you shall."

Anna, Latin form of the Hebrew Hannah, meaning favoured one or one shown grace. The name of a prophetess and attendant at the dedication of Jesus who is called Christ in Jerusalem.

"And she coming in that instant gave thanks likewise unto the Lord, and spake of him to all that looked for redemption in Jerusalem."

An elderly widow, a faithful worshiper of God in His temple, great in fasting and prayer, one of the first evangelists.

The taxi pulled away from the cemetery as the sun set into a bank of rising cloud, and Susan knew that rain was on its way.

But the rain was just as important to the spring as the sunshine, she thought, and shuffled over on the seat to curl into Fred's side.

He patted her knee, left his hand there, warm and heavy. Real. Solid. For all his dreaming artist eyes, Fred was solid, certain, strong enough to hold her on the difficult days, of which there were always more than she wanted.

The ring on her finger was its own kind of heavy, permanent, binding, and she needed that, needed a promise, needed something to quash the fears that choked her in the night.

They took a taxi home on their wedding night, home to the house she'd sworn she couldn't stay in, found she couldn't sell, and so compromised by working two jobs, and hardly ever being there.

Home to the old house she'd grown up in, rebuilt from the bombings, adapted and weathered and haunted by the empty places of people gone.

It had gotten better since Fred. She'd changed things, deliberately, a curtain here and a painting there, opened up the crates and jumbled everybody's books together on the shelves.

As they climbed the steps, she saw the lamp glowed in the front window, with another light shining back in the kitchen, and smiled, thanking Coraline in her heart. Her friend would no doubt be ducking out the back door that very moment, scampering across the back garden, and shimmying through the hedge, as if she were a girl of sixteen, and not a woman of thirty. There would be something warm in the oven, and the kettle waiting on the stove, and two places laid.

"Well, Mrs. Pevensie." Fred put his hand on the doorknob, drew her close against his side. "Shall we?"

Shall we go in? Shall we go into the home that is everything that came before, but is ours now too to make new? Shall we start something? Shall we continue? Shall we come home together?

She stood on her toes, and kissed him with a tremoring smile. "Yes, Mr. Pevensie. With pleasure."

#she carried the fourth child through that door #a little girl in a soft blue blanket #'grace' she said #'grace' to helen and pete and tommy crowding round and talking fast like a flock of crows #'her name is grace'#susan pevensie #post last battle #narnia fanfiction #my writing #chronicles of narnia #loved using the middle name anna #it's my name :)#and grace. she finds a lot of grace in it all at the end of it all #fred i actually invented a few years ago #i love him so much #he's an absolute brick #peter and edmund really would like him a lot #narnia

35 notes · View notes

pixxyofice · 1 year ago

Text

hey main tumblr. I've been normal. (Has not been)

Making ocs for the main party is super fun, especially if you like thinking a lot about the dynamics of it. Which I have! A lot!

This is Melodie! They/Them, maybe also drae/draer if I want to be obvious about them. Paper type.

Loop doesn't know who they are...

The funniest backstory ever I have for them is like. In the Hypothetical Reason They Are A Party Member is that in the pre-game canon game, like if it was normal, is that Melodie would be an EXTREMELY missable party member. If you don't talk to a random NPC early in the game they don't pop up later to be talked to and then recruited by Siffrin. In their first appearance in the game they haven't shaved that side of their hair yet.

Their backstory goes like this. They're from the country. you know the one. it's the reason i tagged this as spoilers. They were out of the country for a brief trip in Ka Bue, probably either a study program or to help out with something else. Undecided. On the day they were to return, something... happened to the boats, and they ended up on the continent Vaugarde was in.

A very young teenager, at most, spending time wandering alone. don't think too much about it! haha! this results in them being a lil' awkward, flip flopping between too quiet and too loud in a way that causes them to move on too quick. And then they are 23 (they think), and someone with white hair and an accent kinda like their own approaches them, and... they're with some people they've seen before, they think, the saviors?

and Melodie get introduced. and they want to travel with them more. and they open up. Melodie's still quiet at times, but it's so much easier to open up when people are encouraging and don't hound you for forgetting things that are supposed to be simple. Not in a mean way, anyway.

So by the game's start, they're... a little loud, but in a nice way. Creative. A lil' rambly (a bit much, but always nice to listen to, even if the points go in a bit of circles).

Oh, and, of course, i've thought about THE PARTY DYNAMICS.

Melodie and Mirabelle would be light novel fans together. They make silly poses together to make their lives better and to pose out what the characters are described doing. they laugh about it. They would get into discourse about their favorite characters.

I did mention Melodie was creative, right? Melodie writes some stuff in their spare time, and as one third of the book club, Melodie sometimes is like 'i could use this in my book' and when they say it out loud without meaning to once, Odile takes interest, and now Melodie and Odile have life experiences talk that Melodie can take to adjust things in their lil projects! and also Odile can be the contstructive criticism person.

One thing that helps Melodie out of their shell is that Bonnie is there. to vaguely remind Melodie of some people they can't remember. and be annoying with. And when everyone laughs about it, Melodie does it a lil more!! and bonnie actually does appreciate it! just... not all the way. (reminds them of their sister, too.)

... and...

hi guys i have normal thoughts about these three in particular. many thoughts that get crushed into paste whenever i even try to describe them. Um. I can try though.

Siffrin and Melodie are like. We're similar, but different in ways that makes us seek the other out for company. Our white hair, the way we form words, the small ways we mumble. Melodie breaks out of their shell with a shout, shaking and smiling, while siffrin slides out so slowly. They sit together, and they chat about things they know the others won't get. They remind each other of things forgotten if they remember but the other forgets. they love puns. Siffrin mastered making them, Melodie mastered understanding them and laughing along!! and, of course, the slowly approaching crush that both of them have been festering but have been COMPLETELY ignoring.

Melodie and Isabeau are shopping buddies. Melodie, as a way to get out of their shell, has been getting slightly interested in fashion, and Isabeau is so, SO eager to help out! Along the way this turned into 'get them some new experiences' and 'we make each other better we think about each other all the time we'll encourage each other until our dying breaths.' Melodie started getting used to touch due to Isabeau touching them casually and shouting at him to keep their hand there, and that spreading to the others. Isabeau calls Melodie Mel, and it... hasn't quite spread to the others yet. (Melodie wonders why.) Isabeau admires Melodie for the way they subtly change and Melodie admires Isabeau for the way he has Changed and... of course... the crush they have on him. which is 100% totally unrequited, because he likes Siffrin, and they just HAD to get a crush on someone who already liked someone else!

melodie knows odile is the one isabeau goes to for his own crush. so like, why not follow suit, right? it's not like isabeau likes them back, so it's totally fair. Odile would understand. (odile is the Sufferer)

the most hilarious and fucked up dynamic of three people all in love with each other of all time, i think. (siffrin unaware of both crushes, melodie only aware of the isabeau one, and isabeau aware of both. melodie is also aware of isabeau's crush on siffrin. help them)

I have more I want to say, but... um... getting embarrassed so this is all for now!! um! yay!!! posts this in the tags and flees

#in stars and time #in stars and time spoilers #isat spoilers #isat #melodie (isat oc)#not tagging everyone haha #isat oc #in stars and time oc

32 notes · View notes

sanfangirl-cynicalromantic · 1 year ago

Text

The Lady Knight | Chapter 4

Oh, my God, I didn't actually think I'd be posting the last chapter exactly one year after I posted the first, but well, here we are.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Read on AO3 here

Astrid wasn’t sure what to say to Hiccup at first. After everything had happened, they still needed to talk more. They still hadn’t resolved what to do about . . . feelings. Did he still like her that way? Had he realized they just wouldn’t work and that’s why he had forgiven her so easily?

The thing was, she had told him she was in love with him, and they were good now, but what did ‘good’ mean? Were they still friends? Was the proposal void or still being offered? Did she want to marry him? Well, yes, of course she did but she also didn’t until she sorted things out. But what about Hiccup? Did he want these things?

There were uncomfortable questions still battling for space in her head, but she discovered that they had not lost their companionable silence, and for that she was grateful. It was nice to forget about all the drama between them and slip into their familiar pattern of working harmoniously alongside each other. Stormfly and Toothless huffed at each other as if catching up on the latest gossip and Astrid found herself smiling stupidly when her visor was down at the prince’s concentration on the maps.

“So, what are you doing on this mission?” she asked into the silence.

“Huh?” Hiccup asked, dragging his eyes from the road to look at her.

“You said you were going to Raven Point because there wasn’t enough time to gather a squad, but I’m wondering how you got this information with so little notice,” she clarified.

“Ah,” Hiccup said. “Well, um, I was . . . actually the one who got the information.” Astrid frowned in confusion.

“Really? How?”

“I, uh, well, do you possibly remember the day I came to propose to you and you said no?” he asked sheepishly. Astrid grimaced at the reminder which Hiccup took as confirmation despite not being able to see her face. “Anyway, I stumbled across Trader Johann who generously spilled the beans.”

“He just told you Drago and his generals were meeting with Dragons of his own free will?” Astrid asked skeptically.

“After I threatened him and saved his life, yeah,” Hiccup nodded. “Not in that order, though.” Astrid snorted. The idea of Hiccup being the type to threaten someone was laughable, but Trader Johann had an uncanny knack of getting under everyone’s skin, and poor, patient Hiccup often lost his temper with the obsequious merchant.

They rode on mainly in silence, trying to cover as much ground as possible so that they could hopefully scope out the coves before Krogan arrived. The sun hadn’t halfway hidden behind the horizon before Astrid caught sight of a cozy looking clearing on the west side of the forest and called to Hiccup that they should set up camp there. He turned Toothless slightly and they investigated the brush quickly, still on their horses, before Hiccup nodded in satisfaction and dismounted Toothless, beginning to brush him down immediately.

Astrid slid off Stormfly and turned to unfasten her mare’s straps. Hiccup, finished with Toothless, held out a hand to take her saddle from her. She smiled and passed it to him, their hands brushing and setting her body atingle with prickly warmth. She could have sworn his eyes darkened in response, but chalked it up to the dimming light. After looping Stormfly’s harness around a low branch by the river she set about making camp. They could afford a fire for now as they were still early on in their travels and did not need to be so discreet, and there was no need to forgo what little comfort there was to be had when sleeping on the ground.

Hiccup set to stirring up a fire and unpacking the food as Astrid finished clearing the brush out of the way. He tossed her a bread roll, stale and cold from that afternoon, but a luxury for the next few days.

“I brought plenty of coins,” Astrid said as Hiccup started taking inventory of their supplies. She had brought a lot, planning to use money to get into certain people’s good graces as she started her campaign to let females inherit, but Hiccup had already established the case with the king and brought it to his attention, so there was no better use for it than perhaps providing them a night in a tavern bed.

“Oh,” he breathed. Astrid turned to see what he was looking at. He held up her hair comb, an unreadable look in his eye.

“Oh, that,” Astrid said quietly. He brought it closer to the fire, the light glinting off the polished metal. “I bring it everywhere I go,” she shrugged when he didn’t say anything. “Plus, you know, I was coming to apologize and I just - if you didn’t accept it . . .” she trailed off, not really sure what else to say and afraid to hear if Hiccup wanted it back or if he was angry she’d even considered giving it to him.

“It’s always yours,” he told her in a low voice. Her eyes flicked up to meet his and he offered her a tentative smile which she returned. He looked down at the comb again and then back at her. “May I?” he asked, gesturing with his hand still holding the accessory.

“Yeah,” she granted him permission immediately. She untucked her messy braid - the helmet wore out the braid in mere hours - from her neckline, ignoring the way Hiccup’s breath caught as individual strands lit up like golden threads from the fire. She brushed some wisps from her face and smiled shyly. Hiccup got up from his crouch slowly, moving the way one did when approaching a wild animal and didn’t want to scare them off, but she wasn’t sure who was the most skittish in this case.

She had to stop her face automatically angling to meet his as he brushed the wisps of hair that had fallen into her face again and combed them back with fingers that would have been shaky if it were any other person, but this was Hiccup, the man with the steadiest hands on Midgard and though they were unsure they didn’t tremble in the slightest. He was unaccustomed to dealing with hair, that she could tell by the way he didn’t know exactly how to pull her hair back, but he managed and slid the comb in place, pinning those stray locks into place. He didn’t move as his hands slowly fell away from her hair. She was ridiculous looking, surely. Her hair was frizzy and messy with those few strands pinned back in a mockery of an elegant hairdo and her face was an unflattering red from the heat of the fire, steadily growing almost unbearably warm under his tender scrutiny, but he was still gazing at her like she was the most beautiful lady he had ever seen.

Neither of them were breathing, too paralyzed with the presence of the other to move, until Astrid found herself tilting her chin upwards a smidge, and Hiccup’s gaze zeroed in on her mouth. Her lips suddenly felt dry and cracked and her heart pounded at the barely concealed hunger in his eyes. Their eyes met for a split second before they found themselves leaning it at the same time, just barely stopping themselves before they made true contact. There was almost no room to breathe, if any of them were even breathing. Astrid didn’t dare blink, but if she did she’d wager her eyelashes would tangle with his before they brushed her cheek. Her neck started to protest at holding herself too still. She let out a shaky breath and inhaled a greedy gulp of air before her eyes shut and she brushed her lips over his.

She had to hold in a gasp as the sensation. She could have sworn the contact sizzled the space between them and she retreated, a knee jerk reaction like how she automatically pulled back after placing a fresh cut of meat on the iron pans when it was her turn to cook breakfast back in the Berk Guard. Apparently frying bacon was all she was good at cooking. But even as she pulled away her hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him with her, his lips landing on hers with more surety.

This was a proper kiss, Astrid thought faintly as she pressed back up against him, her neck shifting to get a better angle and one hand sliding up his shoulder to grip the back of his neck, holding him there to ensure he wouldn’t pull away until she let him. She didn’t let go of the back of his neck even as they parted for air - a short gasp - before they were surging forward again to meet each other. His body was blocking the heat of the fire from reaching her but she couldn’t bring herself to care, not when the heat of his body was seeping into hers and the whole world had condensed to dark warmth and firm torsos and his hot mouth.

“Astrid,” he whispered when they parted again, and she shivered at the utter sin in his desperate rasp of a voice. Again they collided, mouths opening, tongues tangling. She didn’t even register them somehow slipping off of the log but she knew that now Hiccup was on the ground and she was straddling him and she couldn’t get enough and she was fumbling with his tunic, overcome by the need to be close to him, as close as humanly possible and then some but Hiccup’s hands gripped her hips to hold her still and she pulled away from his lips with a pop to look at him confusedly. “We need to stop,” he croaked, his voice tight the way it usually sounded when he was getting treated for wounds and held back his cries of pain.

She had to blink a few times to clear the cloud of lust and her cheeks immediately burned bright as she looked down at the flushed prince.

“What?” she asked stupidly because wow Hiccup’s eyes had never seemed as luminescent and dark and big before and his warm hands on her hips was terribly distracting.

“Um,” Hiccup tried to shift before he let out a deep groan and covered his face in his hands. “We shouldn’t. Not like - not like this.”

“Yeah,” Astrid agreed, not entirely sure why her body felt empty as she stood up. She offered her hand to the prince, too, but he just shook his head and rose to a sitting position, pulling his legs close to him and hunching forward like his stomach was in pain. Astrid wondered if she had somehow hurt him, if maybe she was too heavy to straddle him. Or maybe was he ashamed of what had just happened? She tried not to scowl at the thought.

“It’s just,” Hiccup continued, having caught sight of her face. “I, I just - I don’t think I could hold myself back - right then, at least. Because I, um, it was unexpected.”

“No,” Astrid said nonchalantly. “You’re right. It’s a bit too soon for us to…” she trailed off and shrugged abashedly, cursing her reddened cheeks. She cast around for her last bite of bread and stuffed it into her mouth indelicately.

“Do you want me to take the first watch?” she offered, not looking at him.

“No,” Hiccup sighed. “I won’t be able to sleep just yet.”

Me neither, Astrid thought but she unrolled the blanket and threw it over her legs before laying down with her back to the fire - and consequently, Hiccup.

‘Maybe we weren’t the match I thought we were’ rang in her head as she squeezed her eyes closed and tried to force sleep upon herself. Did he regret what had transpired between them? She fought against a shiver at what would happen to her marriage prospects if Hiccup outed her. He wouldn’t, of course, she knew she was being ridiculous, but she felt stupid and rejected and she wanted to punch him. So he had to do something that would justify her punching him.

She woke him up early in the morning right after dawn by kicking him somewhat gently in the side. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Astrid brought Toothless, already saddled and watered over to him as he slowly packed up his bedroll. He was adorably slow for the first fifteen minutes when he woke up, and then was bright eyed until unholy hours of the night. He let out grumpy noises of protest as Toothless jostled him in the saddle and Astrid wanted to melt, but the warm thoughts of what had happened last night froze her sentimental feelings and she turned ahead coldly.

Astrid kept her eyes stoutly ahead as they rode that day. She was now beginning to regret coming with Hiccup. He kept sending her questioning glances and opening his mouth to talk and so though Astrid really didn’t want to talk to him at all, she was forced to distract him from talking about the other night by pointing something inconsequential out. She scarfed down her food that night and volunteered herself for guard duty, cutting Hiccup off efficiently by telling him not to be tired when she woke him up for his turn.

By morning again, Hiccup was also in a sour mood. His eyes bore into the back of her helmet as they trotted forward silently. It had been two days. They still had a week’s ride ahead of them, then scouting and another two weeks back. Thor strike her dead. Why was she doing this?

“Give me the map,” she said abruptly. She held her hand out and he wordlessly placed the rolled up parchment, carefully oiled, in her hand. She studied it aimlessly, trying to look occupied so she could avoid the conversation. “There’s an inn nearby,” she noticed.

“Is an inn a smart idea?” Hiccup asked. “We want to be discreet.”

“I doubt they’re expecting us,” Astrid reasoned. “And we’re only two knights. There’s nothing suspicious about that. Plus, we can do a little recon tonight anyway.”

“Alright,” the prince accepted.

“If we ride hard for three hours we should make it before evening and establish ourselves before the crowd comes in,” Astrid told him, rolling up the map and handing it to him smartly.

“Right,” Hiccup drawled in a voice that said, I know exactly what you’re doing, and you’re not getting out of it. Astrid flashed him a saccharine smile, pulled the visor over her face, and nudged Stormfly gently into a gallop.

They were silent for the ride until they caught sight of plowed fields. Hiccup straightened in his seat as the farm houses became closer and closer together before a two story building rose up invitingly. He let out a soft groan of hunger.

“Isn’t that a sight for sore eyes,” he sighed, rubbing his stomach. Astrid cast an amused glance towards him but couldn’t deny the grumble of her stomach either.

The inn was old gray wood. It was made of uneven boards that had small cracks in the thin walls, but Astrid supposed with a fire and warm food and drink it would be just fine. The bedrooms would be freezing, however. It was easily the biggest building around, so Astrid was willing to bet all the men and even some of the women would be gravitating towards the center of the small village, full of unguarded conversation if Astrid or Hiccup were to pay for their drinks.

Their horses slowed to a trot, then a walk until they stopped in front of the door. No stablehand came running to take their horses. No hired help, then. She turned to look at him before they dismounted, silently debating which one should go inside and do the talking. Two knights on their own were hardly suspicious, but the Prince and Sir Hofferson were a well known duo. The question was, which was the least recognizable? Astrid had not cut her hair before leaving her estate, not sure how everything was going to play out and not willing to risk months of cultivating her hair growth and ruining pillows with castor oil. It had also been months since she’d deliberately kept her voice low and gruff for hours on end. Mother had been pushing her to stop speaking so deeply and try a lighter tone. But she could hide behind her visor and blame any distorted sounds on the echo of her helmet. Hiccup did not look like the King, and with all the stories of his near-magical ingenuity his persona and description was probably far from the actual truth. But he wasn’t the best at bargaining, and they needed to save their money to pay for drinks later that night. They settled on Astrid, who dismounted Stormfly gracefully while Hiccup tied a kerchief around his mouth and nose.

She handed him the reins wordlessly and tried to clear her throat subtly as she walked through the door.

It swung open with a creak, revealing two women and a man bustling around the dingy room. Tables scraped against the floor as the seating was rearranged by the youngest girl. The older woman was red in the face as she snapped directions at her daughter from the fireplace while expertly balancing trays of meat and a cauldron of soup. Her husband was switching the kegs and opening them in preparation for the evening. Stacks of clean and dirty tankards littered the counters behind him. He looked up, a hint of fear and deference entering his eyes as he noticed Astrid’s intimidating armor and stance.

“How may I help you, good Sir?” he asked respectfully. His wife’s shouting ceased and the younger girl halted her work, not daring to approach the foreign knight in the room.

“Two rooms for the night, please,” Astrid said curtly. She was pleased at her voice sounding appropriately deep, although wished it had not come out so harsh. The innkeeper shifted uncomfortably.

“We don’t have two rooms available, Sir,” the man said apologetically. He was burly and his voice was steady. Astrid had to admire his guts as she pushed her visor up so he could see her piercing blue eyes and the top half of her nose. “We only have two rooms to rent out as it is, and the first one is under repair. It was damaged severely in the last raid and is completely uninhabitable.” The annoyance at his response melted a bit. This far up north the raids were deemed less important so the Berk Guard rarely had time to patrol the place when they were more focused with protecting the western and southern sides of Berk exposed to the war. And all the soldiers stationed up here would be poorer rookie knights. The people up here didn’t stand a chance. And if Hiccup was right and there was a whole army stationed up here and they were testing Berk’s reaction to small raids in this insignificant area? Odin help them all.

“Very well. One room for two, please,” she amended in a more amicable tone. The door opened and Hiccup strode through, dusting his hands. He must have cleaned out the stables for their horses and raked some hay for them. “For my comrade and I,” she explained, jerking her head towards him.

“We only have the one bed,” the innkeeper apologized, almost cringing. “B-But it is the finest we ‘ave, an you get yer own bathing room.” Astrid sighed.

“That’ll do,” she acquiesced. She produced three gold coins - far too much, she knew, but she wanted to help the family fix up their second bedroom and maybe fix those holes in the walls - and set them on the counter. “That should cover a night and a hearty breakfast and dinner as well as the stables and feeding for our mounts, yes?”

“Y-Yes,” stammered the man, likely never having received so much gold from one person before. “That’ll - that’ll certainly do.”

“Good,” Astrid smiled, though he could not see it. “Would one of you kind folks help us run a warm bath? We are weary after our travels and could use a good soak. Separate bathwater for each.” The older man nodded and snapped his fingers at his daughter, who scurried to haul some water.

“Right this way is your room, sirs,” the man led them to a small room with a rickety bed. A thin rug lay on the floor and a narrow tub stood in a corner, hidden by a sheet. The bed had one down blanket and two flat pillows. Astrid decided she liked it. She took her travel sack from Hiccup, who had brought them in and deposited it under the bed.

“The bath will be ready in twenty minutes,” the innkeeper informed them and Hiccup thanked him.

“You can have the first bath,” Hiccup offered when the man had left the room.

“Thanks,” Astrid nodded. She hesitated at taking off her helmet before the girl came in, because she hadn’t cut her hair yet and she wasn’t sure if they’d keep quiet if they realized she was a girl.

Ten minutes later the girl came bearing a yoke with multiple buckets of boiling water.

“I can pour them,” Astrid offered, taking the three large buckets of water easily. The girl nodded and went to fetch the other buckets. Once the tub was filled, Astrid dug through the sack for a change of clothes and Hiccup shuffled awkwardly.

“I think I’ll go downstairs,” he announced. “Help them get ready for tonight and see if I can get any gossip.”

“Okay,” Astrid agreed. “I should be finished by the time the hour’s done and I’ll ring to have it switched.” Hiccup dipped his chin towards her and slipped outside, leaving Astrid to finally take off her helmet and clean her hair. She stripped gleefully and slid into the tub, suppressing a pleased groan at the scalding water. She had to sit with her knees to her chest to fit in the tub, so she hadn’t filled it all the way in order to have space to shift and clean herself. She scrubbed furiously until her skin felt pink and raw. The servants at home would be horrified at her skin; it wouldn’t be as soft without their special flower baths, but Astrid relished the tender feel of cleanliness.

She dried herself off quickly after stepping out of the water, binding her chest and throwing a tunic over her head and wrapping her hair up in the remaining towel. She rang the bell and watched quietly as the girl quickly disposed of the dirty water and brought in buckets of clean water, already heated. Hiccup came back in and thanked her.

He slipped behind the sheet and Astrid averted her gaze as she heard the sounds of his tunic being pulled off and tried not to think about the lean silhouette behind the flimsy cloth divider. She fumbled for the brush in her pack and ran it quickly through her hair. She heard him step into the tub, a quiet hiss at the water and drew a shaky breath. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to dry it quickly so she wouldn’t get sick with a wet head of hair. For the first time in a while, she enjoyed the heavy weight of her golden locks. They had gotten smoother and softer with the care her servants had paid to it in the past months and she found herself planning which updos would work and how to hide her hair comb in it. She heard Hiccup scrubbing himself as she shook her hair out like a wild mane and stretched out on the bed. Even the thin mattress was much softer than the hard ground they had slept on for the past two nights.

She was wringing the ends of her hair again with her damp towel when she heard Hiccup step out of the tub.

“Oh - damn,” he swore. “I, um, forgot my undershirt.” Astrid turned to see his clean undershirt on the floor.

“Oh, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “Come out, I’ll hand it to you.” She got off the bed and picked up the shirt. Hiccup stepped behind the sheet and both of them halted.

She knew what he looked like without a shirt. But she had never had truly taken the time to look and appreciate, especially not with the unprecedented amount of tension between them and the hot brand of the memory of his mouth on lips. He was lean, with only shadowy hints of muscles and underlying strength in that stupidly attractive, unassuming way of his. His eyes were locked on her unbound hair, clean and wavy in its full glory instead of sweaty and wispy.

“Here,” she shoved the shirt into his hands and retreated as he coughed embarrassedly and scratched the back of his head.

“Thanks. I - I didn’t know . . . your hair.”

“I need to dry it so I don’t catch a cold with a wet head,” she explained. “It’s practically dry, I can just-”

“No,” Hiccup threw up his hands. “I mean, you don’t have to put it back up yet if you don’t want to.” Astrid stared at him quietly. He sighed. “Look, can we - can we talk about this?”

“About what?” Astrid asked mulishly.

“You’ve been avoiding talking to me all day today and yesterday,” he said firmly. “I thought we’d just sorted things through, and now we’re back to this.”

“I don’t think there’s much to say,” she shrugged. “I apologized-”

“And I stand by what I said; it was the best apology I’ve ever had. But I mean what happened two nights ago?” he demanded. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong-”

“No, that’s not - you didn’t do anything wrong,” Astrid protested.

“Then why are you giving me the cold shoulder?”

“I - You - didn’t like it,” she stammered. “You wanted to stop.”

“Stop? What, the - the kiss?” Hiccup let out a small laugh. “Astrid, the last thing I wanted to do was stop.”

“Then why did you?” Astrid asked. “Did you think it was a mistake?”

“I just,” Hiccup waved his hands around pleadingly. He reached for her hand and led them to sit on the end of the bed. “I want to do this right, you know, and ensure that there’s nothing to get in the way of a lawful marriage. Don’t you?” Astrid looked down at her clasped hands and didn’t answer. She felt him frown at her. Marriage. He wanted marriage, she realized. Hadn’t she literally refused it less than two weeks ago? He still wanted to marry her? Was she ready for marriage? She had only just come to terms with their feelings for each other. Was she ready for marriage to the Prince and the public scrutiny of being a Princess? Her eyes were growing bigger with her spiraling thoughts and Hiccup’s noted her panicked face with a pang.

“Astrid?” he asked hesitantly, his voice small and unsure. “Do you - do you want to marry me?” Astrid bit her lip. He sighed and made to move off the bed.

“Wait, no,” Astrid protested, grabbing his wrist swiftly. He tried to shake her off half heartedly and she caught sight of his face. Her heart dropped into her stomach at the sight. He was hurt. Again. Thor damn it, this was why she didn’t like to talk about her feelings!

“Hiccup, that’s not what I meant,” she amended hastily. “Okay? I really - I wouldn’t marry anyone else; it’s just -” she broke out and glared at the ceiling like it was withholding her words from her. “I don’t want them to win,” she finished ashamedly.

“Win?” Hiccup asked, turning to her. “Who?”

“My parents,” Astrid admitted. “They - they want me to marry you.”

“You don’t want to marry me because you already have your father’s approval to marry me?” Hiccup said incredulously. She groaned and contemplated smothering one of them with a pillow.

“No, not because I have his approval, but because - I don’t want them to think I’m marrying you because of them,” she explained. “Like they’re the reason their daughter managed to marry into the royal family. They - before you came that day to propose they had already been planning to marry me to you. They knew I liked you but the reasons they’d give me … They’d act like I’d be failing them if I didn’t, you know? I’m just expected to marry you now. All my years being a knight were useless if I didn’t use them to learn how to make the Prince fall in love with me and become royalty.”

“Astrid,” Hiccup scooted closer to her and rested a warm hand on her shoulder.

“It’s your worst nightmare,” Astrid continued. “You’ve always said you hate those families who eye you like a piece of meat and mine is just like that.”

“Hold on,” Hiccup interrupted. “Marrying you could never be a nightmare for me. But aside from that, how is it your nightmare?”

“I don’t mean that I don’t want to marry you,” Astrid said, hoping he hadn’t misunderstood her. “But all they had to say was how beneficial a union would be. And I don’t want to make them feel like any of that is justified. I don’t want to be relegated to a simple wife! I want to be one, sure, but I don’t want it to be all that I am. And their plan! I just,” she shrugged. “Is it awful of me to want to be difficult just to spite them?”

Hiccup barked a laugh. “Heavens, no. And even if it was, it’s not like I’d be in a position to judge. Do you remember all the ridiculous messes I made just to spite our instructors?” Astrid smiled at the reminder.

“How could I forget,” she teased him dryly.

“But if they were planning to marry you off, what were they going to do about the other you?” Hiccup contemplated. Astrid scoffed.

“They didn’t know you know who I am, so they were going to kill me off so that ‘Astrid’ could emerge properly back into society. They hoped I might console you over the death of your friend and perhaps remind you of him enough to marry me.” Hiccup snickered.

“That would have been a funny scene,” he grinned. “We could have played such games with your parents not knowing I knew.”

“It wasn’t funny to me,” Astrid admitted. “I dreaded having to look you in the eye and act like I didn’t know you. I thought you’d hate me for being so duplicitous to your face.”

“Hey,” he said intently, waiting for you to look up at him. “I could never hate you. And I know you’re in a unique position. I would never hold it against you. I would tease you, though, if no one was listening, just to mess with you.” She immediately swatted him and he yelped.

“You muttonhead,” she scowled, fighting back a smile. “You would have given me a heart attack.”

“Even better,” Hiccup smirked. Astrid leaned forward to rest her head against his chest.

“I hate that plan, though,” Astrid admitted. Hiccup wrapped an arm around her and squeezed gently as if to ask, why?

“I - I don’t want to stop being a knight,” Astrid whispered. “I don’t want to stop fighting. I don’t want to pretend like I haven’t literally given my blood for this country. Do you know what the knights our age are like to young ladies? They think they’re Thor’s gift to women and are the most condescending pricks to exist on Midgard. And I want to punch them and tell them who I am just to see their grins slip off their face, but instead I must smile politely and praise them for their bravery! It must be vain of me to want the adulation of the kingdom for my bravery and skills, but the only alternative is to be praised for outwardly beauty or perhaps virtue, how could I ever succeed in their eyes?” Hiccup was silent at her words.

“Well, what if you could be both?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” Astrid blinked incredulously.

“What if you came out as a knight as your female counterpart - as Astrid. Then people would know but you wouldn’t have to pretend any longer.”

“It’d ruin marriage prospects,” Astrid shook her head.

“Not for me,” Hiccup said immediately. “I don’t need to protect my ego and have my wife unable to defend herself. In fact, I’d be immensely proud of her being such a skilled warrior.”

“Hiccup-”

“It could work,” he pressed passionately. “Dad wants to change the laws surrounding women. We could make knighthood a part of it besides inheritance.”

“That would take years,” she argued.

“I would wait,” he told her seriously.

“I don’t think my parents want me to wait that long,” Astrid sighed. “And how do we know your parents would ever allow it? You’re the Heir; your standards for a wife are higher than most in the kingdom.”

“Who could possibly be better than a lady who is beautiful, poised, and can defend us all in a pinch?” Hiccup cried with righteous indignation. Astrid couldn’t help but laugh as she hung her head to hide the furious blush that bloomed on her cheeks. “I don’t want to marry anyone if it isn’t you,” Hiccup began but Astrid laid a finger on his lips.

“Don’t say that,” she said sternly. “Not yet. Please.”

“We’ll sort this out,” Hiccup promised instead. “Starting with taking down Krogan.”

“Right,” Astrid shook her head, having forgotten about the mission at hand. “We should go down. Supper is probably ready.” Hiccup lifted his arm from her shoulder and her hands immediately went to her hair. “I’ll braid this and be down.”

“I’ll finish getting dressed,” Hiccup added. “If you’re going to be in armor, I should be, too.” She smiled at him.

“You hate wearing your armor when you eat,” she reminded him. He raised an eyebrow at her and shrugged.

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “It’d be odd to have one knight in casual clothes an the other in armor. Plus, I wouldn’t want you to single yourself out as a target should things go south by being the one dressed for a fight.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. Hiccup had complained heartily to her over the years on those occasions where they had had to stay in their armor and on their guard even when eating. He hated how hard it was to move his arms and how inaccessible movement was. And, still having the residual clumsiness from his youth, he often accidentally spilled his food and it drove him mad not to be able to find the bread crumbs.

The casual inquiries went well. Astrid knew the way Hiccup thought and knew which questions to ask to give him the details he needed. They had their act down to an art, moving smoothly around one another, any awkwardness from their room forgotten. But it did not stay that way when they retired for the night.

“Hiccup, get in the bed,” Astrid said firmly. Hiccup shuffled awkwardly.

“I, um-” Astrid patted the blanket beside her aggressively.

“We have one night with a bed,” she pointed out. “I’m not going to be the only one to enjoy it.”

“You should take it,” Hiccup insisted. Astrid growled.

“We should both take it as knights who both need a good night’s rest. If you don’t get in I will give us shifts in the bed and wake us both in the middle of the night to switch places. If you’re going to pull the ‘I’m a lady’ yakdung I’m going to pull the royalty card which entitles you to the bed.” Hiccup sighed and pulled back the blankets on the other side of the bed.

“Why can’t you let me be chivalrous for once?” he grumbled as he shifted around to get comfortable. Astrid considered facing him but decided to stay on her back staring at the dark ceiling.

“You are irritatingly chivalrous to the point I worry you will get me found out,” Astrid said flatly. “I do not wish to be coddled in cases like these.”

“I don’t mean to coddle you,” Hiccup replied. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard to treat you without the care I want to give you. That you deserve.”

“Hiccup,” she said softly. “It’s never going to be easy. Us, I mean.” Hiccup shifted under the blankets.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And I understand that, but at the same time, there is no one I feel as comfortable and easy with as you. You get me. I like to think I get you. We’ve already established ourselves as a legendary team; imagine us leading Berk together as a team.”

“It’s only easy because we’re on the same footing,” Astrid refuted. “When we’re both knights, we’re equals. As a fellow warrior, it is easy for us, but as a prince and a reclusive lady? Hiccup, the only time we’ve acted as such we fought.”

“We fought and grew,” Hiccup said steadily. “We hurt each other but came back stronger. Look, I’m not saying it won’t be hard, but I believe what we have is worth fighting for.”

“But I haven’t won you over,” Astrid protested.

“What?” asked Hiccup confusedly.

“I thought I’d have to woo you,” Astrid explained. “And now I don’t have to? You’re throwing me off the plan.”

“Well, my apologies,” Hiccup said in a tone that told her he was rolling his eyes. “But you’d already won me over years ago.”

“How?”

“How? By - by being a woman unafraid of fighting in a man’s world to support her family. With your resolve and faithfulness as you powered through dreary fights and helped me overcome them, too. With your straightforward honesty and how you didn’t coddle me with your words or actions.”

“I wasn’t trying to win you over, though.”

“You never had to,” Hiccup leaned over to press a kiss to her hairline. “You’ve won me just as who you are. There was never any question as to whether I’d fall for you or not.” Astrid’s breath caught and she pushed him off of her gently.

“Will you still feel that way if we part ways after this mission and don’t see each other for mayhaps years?” she asked. “I have not reached a resolution for my problems and you will become King.”

“We can only try,” Hiccup admitted, “But I am only certain that my feelings would remain strong while we sort ourselves out. I’d like to announce an engagement sooner rather than later, though, so I can get Mom off my back whilst I'm promised to another.”

“I’ll try,” Astrid told him. He scooted softly back to his side of the bed and Astrid closed her eyes.

“Astrid?” She opened her eyes again, then realized he couldn’t have seen the action.

“Yes?”

“Does this mean that you’ll say yes when I do propose eventually?” Astrid bit her lip.

“We’re nowhere near ready for that,” she said sternly. “But - Yes. When you propose. Eventually.” She couldn’t tell for sure, but the movement he made sounded a lot like he’d buried his face in his pillow and let out a yell of triumph.

.oOo.

Not a week later they arrived at the Coves. The land was rocky but green, courtesy of the late summer rains. Most of the land in northern Berk was full of small rocks and thin dirt, making it hard for any life to thrive. It was one of the reasons it was such a good hideout for the Dragons; there was no pressing incentive to farm the land they were occupying and terrorizing. The winds were harsh enough to discourage many trees from growing to imposing heights, so the most texture it had were the many hills and uneven piles of rocks. The Coves, however, were like a breath of fresh color. The rocks were larger and more stable. Moss blanketed the stone with green warmth. A couple brave flowers peeked between thin cracks, and the water was freezing but clean.

The journey to the Coves was a boring one, and the locals were wary enough of the place to steer clear of the bandits they knew were lurking somewhere. Most had been tight lipped in the inn a week ago, but with Astrid and Hiccup generously paying for everyone’s drinks that night, enough tongues loosened up enough to prove useful.

The raids had been getting a little more frequent, and it was getting harder for the surrounding villages and towns to restock enough provisions for themselves between each raid to have enough left over to feed everyone. Cows and chickens frequently went missing, and even the foxes had been hunted to the point where they doubted the animals were what was eating their precious livestock, and the alternative option for meat had disappeared.

“Aye, the Coves,” one older lady had nodded drunkenly that night. Astrid had smiled politely at her. “They’re beautiful, not that I’ve been there for years! Them bandits are always guarding that place, they are.”

“Beautiful how?” Astrid had asked. “Do you remember how to get there, exactly?”

The Coves were just the start of the magical place. There was a large lake in the middle of the coves that turned the surrounding area green and apparently, caves that created a large network of tunnels around the Coves and even branching into some of the nearby hills.

“We used to explore them tunnels,” the old lady had recalled wistfully. “Dunno what’s been dun to the place now, of course.” Astrid had waved over another keg of mead and pushed it into the lady’s hands.

Hiccup looked around the place with interest. “Amazing what a steady source of water will do,” he wondered. “Maybe if I talked to Dad and we could figure out an irrigation system-”

“Hiccup, focus,” Astrid laughed. The ruler in Hiccup was starting to show despite his protests that he wasn’t cut out to lead a country. They had grown closer in the past few days. Hiccup had assured her he cared for her and would do everything he could to ensure that Berk would become a better place for girls like Astrid. If worse came to worse after the war, Astrid supposed she could step down as a knight to marry Hiccup and help make the world easier from the sidelines. They were doing things right, but that didn’t stop them from sharing a couple kisses between every break and sleeping in each other’s arms at night instead of back to back. Neither had said it outright yet, but they were in love and Astrid was finding herself hard pressed not to just elope with him then and there. Being a future queen didn’t sound so bad or insurmountable anymore. But, she reminded herself, that was just because

“We have about a week until Krogan’s set to arrive, yes?” Astrid checked when Hiccup hadn’t stopped staring contemplatively around him. He blinked and shook himself out of his daze and Astrid bit back a smile.

“Er, yes,” he said. “I figured we could arrive ahead of time, scope things out and figure a course of action before he came. I don’t know how long he’ll be here and we want to be as efficient as possible.”

“When the lady I talked to said the place was guarded, do you think she meant like sentries, spies, or everyone just knows everyone?” Astrid wondered aloud.

“It’d be impossible to know everyone,” Hiccup responded. “According to Johann, their numbers are in the thousands. How long ago had it been since she’d tried to come here? Maybe they’ve gotten lax with their security.”

“Maybe,” Astrid said doubtfully. “I say we choose an opening and watch it until someone comes out,” she decided.

“I like the plan,” Hiccup agreed. They unsaddled their horses and hid the saddles behind a bush outside the main opening of rock.

“Bye for now, Toothless,” Hiccup petted the beautiful black stallion’s nose and rested his forehead against it. Astrid patted Stormfly’s flank before shooing her off gently. Their horses were well trained and Hiccup and Astrid would be able to call them back with a curlew’s song whenever they needed to. The horses deserved some free time roaming the plains for a week or so, and they wouldn’t be caught or found out while tending to their steeds. They had trained their horses that trick during their stint with the Berk Guard to show off to their comrades. Throk could catch literal arrows out of the air, and Alvin had been able to snap a small log in two with his bare hands. Every few nights or so all the Guards would take turns showing off, and after months and months of chasing down their horses, Astrid and Hiccup had proudly demonstrated their horses’ intelligence.

Hiccup and Astrid turned back to the cove and began to explore it, looking for an opening.

“There are multiple openings,” Astrid reasoned. “They can’t possibly all be hidden.” They eventually settled behind a big rock and pulled their hoods up over their faces, waiting to be shown an opening they could slip into and observe admittance. Hiccup let out a huge sigh. He didn’t appreciate stakeouts. They usually made him antsy, but Astrid liked the meditative practice of sitting still for hours on end. It was calming, and since she had already sorted through most of her complicated feelings with the wonderful man sitting next to her, she allowed herself to bask in his presence while they waited.

She’d always liked it best when it was just the two of them. Sure, she was friends with the other Guards and even liked Snotlout or Ingerman on occasion. And she always enjoyed lively Eret. But Hiccup and her were special. Maybe it was because he knew of her true self, but even before that, they had connected as two lonely kids and found solace in each other’s friendship. Hiccup thought he had benefited the most out of their friendship, but Astrid was certain that without Hiccup’s gentle awe of her, his quiet support and his unfaltering goodness she would never have wanted to share the experience of freedom with other girls. She would have never learned the elation of love and consuming hope of better things to come for the future. She broke one of the first rules of observing an enemy’s territory and turned her head to gaze at him. His eyes were half closed. It looked like he was falling asleep, so she nudged him gently, stifling a snort at the way his head shot up in a panic. He looked around quickly, remembering their surroundings.

He met her eyes concernedly. Has anyone come? He asked silently. Astrid shook her head and made no move to restrain her smile. He sighed and scanned the cove around them, debating whether or not it’d be faster to continue searching or wait for a Dragon to come out. Astrid’s legs were starting to seriously cramp when Hiccup gripped her arm hard and she stiffened as much as she could without moving and alerting anyone to their location. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of a rock moving and a curtain of ivy shoved aside. The Dragon whistled, oblivious to the two sharp pairs of eyes watching him. It looked like they had found their way in.

.oOo.

“This is stupid,” one Dragon member grunted to his companion. His left eyebrow was singed and his teeth filed into fangs. His friend tore into his leg of chicken, ignoring the one who’d spoken. “They’re treating us like soldiers,” he continued to grouse. “But we’re Dragons. We fight and steal for profit, not for stupid conquerors.”

“We’ll make plenty of profit from our coin once Drago pays us,” his companion deigned to answer.

“But there will be so many casualties,” the first one complained. “We raid, not fight. I tell you, the last Red Death would never-”

“Careful,” cautioned his friend urgently. “You can’t be heard saying that. You know she isn’t afraid to slaughter anyone who opposes her, and with Drago’s support, no one can rise against her.”

“I think she cheated when she challenged the last one,” the singed eyebrow groused. “She was nothin’ but his mistress. This is why we can’t never trust no woman.”

“Doesn’t matter if she won,” the Dragon rolled his eyes, biting off the last bit of cartilage from his chicken leg.

“She might not win next time, though,” the first one said, his voice lowering to nearly a whisper. His companion went still.

“Fanghook,” the Dragon said sternly. “Don’t tell me-”

“Kingstail is a strong Dragon, and he hates this yakshit going on with Drago. We’ll lose our identity if we become that man’s soldiers. We’re Dragons. We answer to no one but our own.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” his friend said flatly.

“No we won’t,” Fanghook said confidently. “Kingstail asked if he could count on me when he gives the signal-”

“This is treason,” the other Dragon hissed. “What signal?” Fanghook shifted.

“He said I’d know,” the younger Dragon said with a pout. His companion threw away his chicken bone in disgust. Hiccup’s eyes narrowed but he kept his head perfectly still. There was a coup happening? He waited until the two Dragons had walked away before he dared to stir. Clearing his plate, he hid a couple choice pieces of meat and grabbed a keg of the mildest mead to take to Astrid in case she hadn’t had anything to eat. He wove through the pillars until he reached a rather large one, pockmarked with cavities that were ideal for hand and footholds. He cast a glance around, then carefully took off his hood, stuffing the food inside of it and grabbing onto the rock.

He and Astrid had discovered that while the caves and coves eventually led to the one big cavern, there were pockets of rock that most Dragons liked to sleep in. The pillars were mostly sturdy, and water had carved large holes in the porous rocks over time so there were plenty of handholds. Dragons slept on the rock, and fought for the best places. They weren’t a tight knit group, though. It was every man for himself, full of temporary alliances that ended in backstabbing. Hiccup and Astrid had found a small slab by the northwest end of the coves. The holes were smaller and the slabs less sheltered. It wasn’t a coveted spot, so they were left alone. The only thing that distinguished Dragons were their tattoos and weapons, but as long as he and Astrid kept covered and didn’t get into any fights, they should stay undetected.

It was a good thing Hiccup wasn’t afraid of heights. That was another thing. The small pocket of rock they had chosen was hard to reach because it was so high up. No one wanted to climb that much before they could even make it to their bed, especially after a night of revelry or if they wanted to store their spoils. Hiccup breathed and tested his foothold before stretching out his hand to pull himself further up. He had climbed this pillar enough in the past few days that he had practically memorized his route up, but he wasn’t foolish enough to lose caution.

Astrid was already in the pocket when he had woven through the low ledge to their spot. She looked up at him with a smile, pushing back her hood. It was woven into a crown around her head to keep it short and out of her face, although her hair was too short for it to be fully smooth, and little flyaway hairs stuck out comically. He thought it was adorable.

“Brought you some food,” he said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. She swatted him, trying to hide her blush and reached to take the food from him eagerly.

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed. “This is so much better than the food outside. No one knows how to cook over there.”

“Learn anything?” Hiccup asked.

“Mmm, nah,” Astrid said. “They are working on loading carts, but they are unfamiliar with traveling in large numbers. Usually they just hide in the bushes and ambush traveling caravans. They’ve never fought on a large scale before, and a lot of them aren’t happy about it. No one trusts the other, so they won’t be as solid a force as normal soldiers when we fight against them.” She took a minute to chew and swallow. “But in a battle, they’ll probably break off in pairs or something and try to slip through weak cracks. They’ll be very difficult to beat, and don’t seem to have any honor.”

“What are the carts for?” Hiccup asked.

“Weapons and food,” Astrid replied. “They aren’t used to packing and preserving food for travel; usually they just steal it, but Drago wants them to be discreet. What about you?”

“I have something really interesting,” Hiccup smirked. “It sounds like these Dragons really don’t like the idea of teaming up with Drago.”

“Oh?” Astrid cocked her head to the side.

“It sounds like one of them - Kingstail - wants to seize leadership for himself.” Astrid leaned forward, a curious smile on her lips.

“Do you know when?”

“No. The guy I heard it from was utterly clueless. He’ll probably think the next shout is a signal to attack. Anything else on your part?” Astrid snapped her fingers and pointed at him as she remembered.

“Yes! Krogan is coming tomorrow with some of his own generals to lead the Dragons. They’ll be arriving and getting special treatment. Some of the Dragons have had to give up their sleeping spaces to make way for his soldiers and apparently they’ll even try to get a full on room for Krogan.”

“They’re probably to help the Red Death keep the Dragons in check,” Hiccup mused.

“Do you know how to find the Red Death?” Astrid asked.

“Not yet, although I’m sure she’ll make an appearance to greet her guests.”

“Then we’ll be ready. They’ll probably have the conversation in one of their rooms so as to keep their privacy,” Astrid frowned in concentration.

“So, we have until tomorrow,” Hiccup nodded.

“And then what?” Astrid asked. Hiccup wrinkled his nose in confusion. “What do you mean, and then what?”

“Will we leave as soon as we hear the plan?” Astrid asked.

“Yeah. This is just supposed to be a spy mission,” Hiccup said. Astrid stared at her leg of chicken contemplatively.

“We should probably stake out the meeting place before he gets here, then.” Hiccup nodded in agreement. Astrid looked longingly at the thin pile of blankets in the corner, including some they had stolen. “I say two hours rest and then we can spend the rest of the night searching.”

“Suits me,” Hiccup said, crawling over to arrange the blankets. “Wake me when it’s time.”

The best time to sneak around wasn’t late night, but rather a few hours after midnight during the early morning. It was still dark, but the guards on duty were tired after hours of trying to stay awake. Astrid climbed down the pillar first, landing without a sound and pulled her hood up over her head. Hiccup followed quickly and they set off down the cave.

They were pretty familiar with their surroundings on the northwest side of the tunnels. They expertly wove through the twists and turns in the rock, skirting around the cavern filled with Dragons who had passed out from their mead consumption. Astrid had spent the last few days inspecting the collection of wagons and horses the Dragons had in their stables to the western side of their camp to gauge the numbers. With approximately a steed to ride plus a pack horse for each and wagons that could hold more supplies and ten men, she estimated their numbers at eight thousand. Which left the southern and eastern sides. They were closer to the numerous villages the Dragons liked to raid and as a result were far more busy and protected. The south part of the coves were composed of thicker slabs of rock, which stood to reason it’d probably be where the Red Death and her most valuable things were kept.

They drew up short as they came across a sleepy guard standing by a tunnel entrance.

“Well that’s an indication to investigate if I ever saw one,” Hiccup whispered quietly. Astrid snorted softly. They stayed still for a minute, gauging his breathing. Finally, Astrid gave a short nod and Hiccup started forward, stepping in time to the guard’s exhales. Astrid followed suit and they crept down the stone hall until they came across an alcove. It was a cold place with very little light, so there was no way it was the Red Death or Krogan’s quarters, but it had to be important if there was a Dragon guarding it. Hiccup snagged a torch from the wall and brought it over to the alcove. It was actually big enough to be a room, and it was full of gourds, barrels, and boxes, all securely closed. Some of them were labeled and new while others looked old and untouched.

“They seem to be organized by some system, although it’s not obvious yet,” Hiccup observed. Astrid picked up a large gourd and frowned.

“This is awfully light, but clearly sealed. What could possibly be in this?” she wondered. Hiccup shrugged and simply held the torch higher as she looked around the room.

“They have all the weapons together, there,” she pointed. “So maybe they’re sorted by use?” next to the pile of weapons stood a collection of smaller chests and boxes filled with vials and powders. On the other side of the room were the big barrels and gourds. Hiccup brought the torch closer to the latter objects to see if they were labeled.

Astrid walked over next to him and opened a barrel. It had been opened before, and it was no problem to pry the lid and set it to the side. A pungent smell hit their noses and they struggled not to gag audibly. “It looks like . . . gel,” Hiccup frowned. Astrid dipped a finger in it and brought it closer to the torch to inspect it. Her eyes widened as it quickly caught on fire. She yelped and immediately enclosed her flaming finger in a fist.

“Astrid!” Hiccup panicked. “Are you okay?” she opened her fist cautiously, no smoke rising from her palm.

“I - yeah,” she said shakily. “Just surprised. It looks like it burnt all the gel but I stopped it before it could reach my finger.” She wiped the grease on her pants and winced. Her palm was a little red and raw. Hiccup noticed and opened his mouth to say something but Astrid interrupted. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. Is there anything else useful?” Hiccup turned reluctantly back to the stack of supplies.

“Flammable gel,” he mused, looking around the room. “Weapons. Nets . . .” he walked over and inspected a vial before jerking back. “Nadder concentrate. And Deadly Nadder leaves. This is the poison section . . .”

“Wow,” Astrid breathed. “This place is amazing. Poisons, explosives.” She walked over to a gourd. “This must be some sort of explosive gas, then.”

“We should bring back a sample of all of these poisons,” Hiccup murmured. “Half of them we’ve never seen. I mean, what’s F mist? Although it’s next to Speed Stinger venom so maybe it’s paralyzing, too.” Astrid decided not to fight her eye roll.

“They must use all of these on their victims - a few Dragons have occasionally been hired as mercenaries and assassins, even though the majority of them are bandits,” she thought aloud. “This must be where they keep their supplies.”

“Good to know,” Hiccup mused. “But the Red Death wouldn’t want to be so close to explosives, or keep potential enemies close to them, so Krogan and his men certainly won’t be here.”

The third corridor they came across had a lot more torches, and even fancy doors installed with tapestries lining the walls. There was no doubt this was where the Red Death resided. Astrid and Hiccup expertly immobilized a pair of patrolling guards and strode past the corridor, standing at attention, their eyes taking in every detail. The Red Death was a curvaceous woman who remained mysterious - or maybe didn’t dare to venture very far into her own den for fear of upstarts wishing to challenge her. Her meals were brought to her rooms and only a few select advisors entered her chambers. The guest rooms were cleared and the next day Hiccup and Astrid were part of the crew that helped set up Krogan’s rooms.

The meeting with Krogan was to take place in a ‘neutral’ room, sparsely furnished to show the absence of traps and with a big table. Only a few guards, two from the Red Death and two from Krogan would guard the entrance to the room to avoid anyone else hearing their plans. The two guards would probably be of the Red Death’s few advisors she allowed in her chambers. Hiccup and Astrid had identified four. So two of them would probably be in the meeting between the two leaders.

Krogan arrived the day afterwards with ten generals. Astrid peered over one of the ledges, laying on her stomach, her hood pulled far over her face to ensure no one saw her even if they looked up. They looked tired, and one of the Red Death’s close advisors escorted them to the southern caves.

“Krogan,” the Red Death welcomed him with a pleasant, deep voice. “A pleasure to meet with you in person again.”

Krogan grunted and inclined his head.

“How go the preparations to move?” he asked abruptly. The Red Death let out a soft laugh.

“Straight to the point,” she noticed keenly. “They are going well. Is everything going as planned on your front?”

“Berk sent in reinforcements,” Krogan said flatly. “It is nothing we can’t handle, but with the soldiers we have Drago wishes to act sooner than we planned.” The Red Death said nothing for a minute.

“With your soldiers helping my Dragons fall into place we should be able to be ready,” she acquiesced. “Of course, such a decision will cost you.”

“Deal,” Krogan agreed. “We’ll need you to move in four weeks' time,” Krogan said as he shook the Red Death’s hand.

“Four weeks?” she asked incredulously.

“Four weeks,” Krogan repeated sternly.

“Very well,” the Red Death acceded. One of her guards at the end of the table shifted.

Astrid tugged Hiccup’s tunic lightly. “Four weeks isn't enough time for us to get back to Berk and formulate a counter attack,” she hissed urgently.

“I know,” Hiccup agreed, frowning. Astrid cocked her head to one side as she studied him. What are we going to do? She asked silently. His eyebrow rose in contemplation. “If we need more time, I guess we’ll have to slow them down,” he said thoughtfully.

“You mean, killing Krogan, laming all the horses, burning the wagons and provisions, or blowing up the weapons and their base?” Astrid asked sardonically, a gleam in her eye at the prospect of battle.

“From what we’ve seen, the Dragons aren’t exactly feeling very loyal to Drago. The only real connection between him and the Dragons is the Red Death, who is in kahoots with Krogan.”

“So, no Red Death . . .” Astrid nodded, catching his drift.

“. . . no ambush,” Hiccup finished. “Yeah.”

“Well, great. We just need to incapacitate the leader of the Dragons in this den full of hundreds if not thousands of highly dangerous individuals. Easy. How do we do that?”

“We can’t fight off all of them, so we’ll need a diversion,” Hiccup said, a grin spreading across his face as he met her eye. A smile grew on her face in answer as she played along for dramatic effect.

“Oh?” Astrid asked coyly. “And what do you propose?”

“What was that idea about blowing up their transportation and provisions?” Hiccup asked innocently.

.oOo.

The Dragons and Krogan’s generals would be put to work the following day and the caves would be too swarmed with soldiers to set up any traps, so they had to act that night.

“It has been forever since we’ve done this,” Astrid said, biting back a smile.

“Do you remember how furious Gobber was when we singed his eyebrows that one time?” Hiccup nudged her.

“How could I forget the whack of his staff during our extra training,” Astrid shook her head. “I swear it hurt to breathe for days. But now I can beat almost anyone with just a staff.”

“Okay,” he puffed, standing up to stretch his back and looking at his work with a satisfied smirk. “That should be the last of them.”

“I’m pretty sure this is a record of ours,” Astrid groaned quietly. “I don’t think I’ve set more traps in four hours in my entire life.”

“You’ll be able to hit all of them, right?” Hiccup checked.

“Of course,” she assured him. “I’ll definitely be able to make it outside before Krogan.”

“What I want to know,” she continued, “is when did you get so good at this? I don’t remember you being so eager to cause this kind of destruction since we were seventeen.”

“Maybe I missed this,” Hiccup shrugged.

“You’re way too confident to have supposedly just resumed pranking after five years,” Astrid accused him gently. “Should I be worried?”

“Not unless you’re related to my uncle,” Hiccup assured her. Astrid sniggered.

“I almost feel bad for Snotlout,” she shook her head.

The plan was to take place during a meal, which was when most Dragons would be in the cavern that served as a mess hall. They would start an explosion right outside the cavern and feign a coup that Hiccup had overheard plans about. They hadn’t been able to glean much more information surrounding it, as Kingstail was a popular and shrewd Dragon; it was hard to eavesdrop on his plans. However, there were at least a couple Dragons who were waiting for an unknown signal. They would lead the attack and send the hall into chaos. Kingstail might try to stop them or take advantage of the situation; either way, they didn’t care. Hiccup would stay in the mess hall and try to target the Red Death while Astrid exploded a few entrances to barricade the Dragons in and make it harder for them to exit the den, plus their wagons and supplies to prevent them from having the resources to attack Berk. Krogan would also try to make a run for it, so with most of the extra entrances collapsed, he’d run into Astrid, who would overtake him and bring him back to the Berk palace to interrogate him.

“You probably don’t have to take the Red Death on directly, you know,” Astrid said hesitantly. “What’s more important is that you make the mess hall such chaos Krogan will want to leave rather than help and you can escape.” Hiccup turned to look at her.

“I can handle myself in there,” he assured her. “It isn’t my first brawl, you know.” Astrid winced.

“I need you more than alive; I need you well enough to ride back to Berk with a dangerous prisoner,” she said firmly. “It took weeks for you to move properly after those brawls.”

“Fine,” Hiccup huffed. “Getting out of there is my priority. But what about you? How are you going to take on Krogan?”

“I’ll coat my blades in Speed Stinger venom,” she shrugged. She had never used the concoction before, but had heard about it from the legendary healer Gothi and in history books. Even a few drops were enough to paralyze a fully grown man for a couple hours. As long as she managed one slice on Drago’s general, he would freeze immediately for long enough to tie him up securely.

The traps were a few tripwires connected to torches along the walls that would set piles of the flammable gel on fire, and a couple of gourds of the explosive gas by the entrance. If they failed, Hiccup had found a few weak spots in the rock where some of the Dragons had piled boulders themselves to give themselves more cover. Astrid could simply nudge the weak spot and tumble the rocks manually, trapping the Dragons inside.

“Did you pack our bags?” she checked. Hiccup nodded. He had carefully bundled the samples of substances he wanted to bring back to Berk in packs, along with their blankets and had retrieved their horses, getting them saddled and waiting by the entrance in the cove.

“We’ve done as much as we can, Astrid,” he said reassuringly. “You can stop worrying.” Astrid cast him a dark look and he bit back a laugh.

“I can’t believe we just spontaneously decided to assassinate the Red Death and capture Drago’s general,” she said drily.

“Never a dull moment with the two of us,” Hiccup smiled.

“Breakfast will be in about twenty minutes,” Astrid observed. “So we should get to our positions. Be careful,” she warned him as she began to walk away.

.oOo.

When Fanghook sauntered to breakfast early for once, he didn’t notice the gleeful eyes watching him from the corner. A few more of his comrades made their way down quickly, drawn first by their need for the latrines, then by the tantalizing smell of food. They helped themselves from the pots and platters on the main table. Krogan’s men were sitting at the head table like the good little soldiers they were. He scoffed and jeered at them with his friends. They were going to have to follow those foreigner’s orders and they would be expecting hardworking minions, so he had no choice but to ridicule them as much as he could now before they exhausted him. Who cared about stupid soldier formations? Fanghook excelled at ducking out of the fight whenever it came to confrontation and holding a knife to a pretty woman’s neck and forcing his opponents to surrender. What was the point of fighting next to a buddy who’d kill him as soon as he had enough spoils to make it worthwhile? Why should he save a comrade when less people meant a greater share of the prize? Soldiers with ideas of conquering made no sense.

The Red Death made her way to the breakfast table, surprisingly enough. He supposed it was because of the Krogan general. She didn’t want to seem unorganized or weak in front of him. He scoffed again. Women were nothing but weak, and it was so typical of a woman Red Death to team up with some conquering bastard like Drago to keep the Dragons satisfied. He couldn’t wait for Kingstail to take her down.

Fanghook was on his second bowl of stew when a loud boom sounded, filling the cafeteria with green gas which burst into flames. He jumped up, his short sword already drawn. Fanghook may have never learned to read or figure or even hold a meaningful conversation, but he was well versed in the lifestyle of stab first, think later and that had kept him alive as long as he had. Everyone’s heads snapped toward the flash of fire and coughed in the wake of smoke.

“THE SIGNAL!!!” someone from the midst of the smoke bellowed. Fanghook started. The signal? Had Kingstail set this up?

“THE SIGNAL!!!!” another voice roared. “Go, Go, Go!” Fanghook sprang into action.

“Come on, boys,” he shouted. They followed him without question.

“What’s happening?” one of them asked.

“We’re not gonna let these soldiers boss us around!” Fanghook cried. “Time to put someone else in charge!” Plenty of people drew weapons, too and leapt over tables to follow him. Someone stepped in front of Fanghook and he struck him down easily. The Dragon’s friend cried out in outrage and leapt onto one of Fanghook’s comrades. Now it was just a cacophony of petty squabbles resulting in blood. Some people targeted others they had grudges against and others swung their knives for the fun of it. Some were trying to stop the brawl but they didn’t understand that this was no brawl, but a rebellion. A slim figure streaked past him, aiming for the Red Death’s table. Explosions from farther away sounded, not that Fanghook cared as he roared in pain at someone’s knife in his shoulder. He threw himself into the fray, bloodlust taking over as he punched and grappled and swung whatever blade he could get his hands on, not noticing the absence of a certain general from the scene or the Red Death’s whereabouts.

.oOo.

In the instant before the mess hall exploded, Astrid was gripped by an all consuming fear that they had misjudged the situation severely. Maybe they shouldn’t have pushed their plan into action in the morning, with all the Dragons still waking up. But then one Dragon drew his sword and after that, everything took care of itself. She turned from the scene and sprinted to the nearest exit. So the explosive gas they had used was quite strong. She set the closed gourd of gas covered in the gel on fire and backed away, turning to see if this explosion was just as strong.

Reaching the two north entrances, she slipped into the stables, her torch aggravating the horses and opened the stalls and doors, chasing them out of the barn, yelling loudly and waving the fire around. She waited a minute to make sure none of them were close enough to be harmed before turning to the wagons, soaked in that very useful flammable smelly fluid. She targeted the wagons filled with weapons first, then the ones with healing supplies and food, snagging a piece of bread and stuffing it into her mouth before throwing her torch straight into the wagon.

The caves were full of Dragons running to and fro, some confused, others fighting. None of them took much notice of her. Someone swung a fist and she dodged before flooring him with a well aimed kick. She burst out into the coves and blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight. She hid herself by the exit and removed her axe. She found herself frowning at the slight residue the Speed Stinger venom left on the metal’s surface, marring the shine and care she took of her blade, but Krogan was an experienced fighter, and if it looked like she didn’t know how to take care of a weapon, he might guess she didn’t know how to handle one, either.

She barely had time to stabilize her breathing before Krogan’s tall frame made its way outside. Astrid’s heart sped up but she forced herself to breathe evenly. He was hardly the first opponent she had ever fought. He began to climb the pathway up to the opening of rock that led out of the cove. She waited until he was close before jumping out of the brush with a fierce yell, aiming for his fingers. He yanked his hand away with enviable reflexes and managed to keep his balance, but Astrid stood above him on higher ground and with stabler footing.

“You,” snarled Krogan.

“You’re coming with me,” Astrid said with her deep voice. He scoffed.

“I think not,” he replied. “You no longer have much use for me or Drago. You are unorganized and have no respect for authority. Plus, some idiot blew up the wagons and provisions. Drago will cease trying to allow you Dragons your own authority and conquer you easily.”

“I’m the idiot who blew up the supplies,” Astrid said, her voice steely, “And you’re coming with me. To the Berk palace.” She quickly removed her hood and pulled it over her head before she could blink, tossing it away from her. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid and tucked into her shirt, plus she had carefully applied smudges to her face to alter her features and make them more masculine. Krogan’s eyes sharpened into slits. He took out a long handled axe with a jagged axehead on one side and smirked arrogantly at her. Astrid lifted her chin and hefted her own weapon before lunging forward, aiming for his exposed arms. He dodged easily, but Astrid did not press further. She had good ground and there was no other exit out of the coves. She wouldn’t give him the chance to slip around her and escape.

His eyes narrowed at her and he leapt at her, swinging his axe. Wow, his legs were freakishly strong and fast. She dodged to the side, avoiding the sweep of his longer axe. She brought her own weapon up and slashed at him, not moving to the side to lend him enough room to escape.

“You’re not bad,” he taunted. Astrid smiled tightly, acknowledging the compliment but not letting it detract from her focus. A flash of annoyance crossed his face at her lack of response, and she bit back a smile.

She had a small knife by her side, also coated with the Speed Stinger Venom. If she were able to get close to him she could slice him. Or, she could distract him with an offensive attack with her axe and throw the knife, hoping to cut him. She was a great shot with a knife, but Krogan was powerful and strong. She wasn’t sure she’d actually be able to hit him. And if she missed, there would be no way to retrieve her knife. I just need a slice, she told herself as she moved to strike again. She didn’t need to kill him or make him yield or even draw first blood, although that was preferable. She swung again and he jumped out of the way. She swung around to block him from slipping between her and the opening. He relied the most on his strong legs, reaching ungodly heights and if Astrid ducked he’d probably be able to jump over her, although his swings with his axe were arm-shatteringly strong. His heavy cloak was a bit of a hindrance to him, but he was good enough that it wasn’t a weakness Astrid would be able to utilize.

She made to aim a swipe at his legs, crouching down low enough for, say, a certain opponent to jump over her. He took the bait, launching himself over her. She ignored the rush of fear as he sailed over her, and twisted quickly, drawing her smaller blade and slicing deeply along his unprotected calf. He bellowed, more out of arrogant fury than pain as he landed. He stood to face her but froze before he could completely straighten. Astrid smiled grimly at the effective work of the Speed Stinger venom. She knocked him over with her foot, delighting in the way he toppled over helplessly. Stormfly trotted over as Astrid whistled and Astrid unwound the rope from her horse’s hidden saddle.

“Hey, girl,” she greeted her mare. “Did you have a nice time roaming these plains?” Stormfly’s eyes twinkled at her. “I missed you, too,” she smiled, stroking the horse’s soft nose. “I’m going to put this on you now,” she gestured to the saddle and Stormfly stood obediently still.

Astrid made quick work of Stormfly’s saddle, then called Toothless over and readied him for Hiccup, too, casting a nervous glance back at the caves. She tied Krogan’s hands and legs securely, signaling Stormfly to kneel. She slung him over the saddle, cooing as her strong, beautiful mare shifted under the weight.

Ten minutes later, Hiccup still hadn’t come out. She inspected Toothless’s saddle bags one more time again. They had brought out the samples of the substances to bring back to Berk the night they had set the traps, not wanting to risk one of them being poisoned or paralyzed if the bottles broke. She cast a glance at her prisoner. He would not be able to move for a couple hours or so but did she want to keep him conscious? Should she knock him out now or wait for Hiccup to get back and subdue Krogan just as they began riding again?

Toothless’s ear perked forward and Astrid wanted to sag in relief. She saw Hiccup a few minutes after, climbing out of the cove and taking a moment to rest his hands on his knees and catch his breath before straightening up to address them.

“Hiccup-” she said, concerned. He waved her off.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “It was just a hard fight, but it’s fine.” She eyed him suspiciously as he hauled himself into Toothless’s saddle with a pained grunt. “I’m good,” he insisted when he caught sight of her face. She arched an eyebrow.

“Okay,” she said disbelievingly. He clicked his tongue, signaling his stallion into a trot and Astrid turned and whacked the side of Krogan’s head with the flat of her axe. Hiccup winced. She turned to him, a wide smile on her face. Hitting the General had felt good.

Hiccup didn’t have any cuts on him but his breathing was slightly shallower than normal and a few times she had caught him gingerly holding his side between breaks. The ride back to the Berk Palace was going to take two weeks with the addition of Krogan and they wanted to avoid towns near Berk’s borders in case Krogan escaped and tried to make it back to Drago.

Maybe they should have stolen more healing supplies, Astrid worried. They had plenty of bandages and a few herbs for poultices if they needed them, although if there was a serious wound they’d have to restock at one of the cities.

“Let me look at you,” she decided as they dismounted for the night. Hiccup’s head snapped round to look at her.

“What?”

“You’re clearly hurt,” he glared at him. “Don’t try to deny it. I won’t let you. So let me look at how bad it is before I fuss over you as punishment.” He rolled his eyes.

“I swear you’re like a mother dragon,” he muttered. She cuffed him around the head and he snickered before removing his shirt.

He had bruises lining his torso from what looked like grappling and a few kicks.

“What were you doing?” she asked incredulously.

“Uh… fighting.” Hiccup responded. He scratched the back of his head. “She was a really good fighter, but better with long range and I had a few explosives left.

“Is she?”

“Dead.” Astrid nodded. “Good job.” She knew he hated killing, knew it haunted him at night but the Red Death was just too dangerous to be kept alive, and they wouldn’t have been able to restrain two powerful prisoners. She gave him an encouraging smile. You did the right thing. Her hands automatically began tracing his old scars and he sucked in a breath, moving his head closer to hers just slightly. She began to tilt it upwards when Stormfly snorted and Astrid remembered the prisoner just sitting there watching them.

“Uh- um,” she stammered. “Great. We actually - we should have a poultice for the bruises that you can use.” Hiccup looked adorably confused and put out at her pulling back before his brain caught up and he scowled.

Well, now Astrid was sure she didn’t have to worry about Hiccup being accidentally too nice.

It was stupid how much Krogan got in the way. It had been weeks since Hiccup and Astrid had had to watch themselves around each other, and all of a sudden stolen kisses or light flirtations that had so easily become part of their routine had to be cut out in front of their audience, leaving them embarrassingly off balance. And the prisoner was so quiet that they’d forget he was there at times. Hiccup would stumble upon her name or Astrid would lean too close before they remembered the third party. It was dangerous. And Astrid found herself cranky without Hiccup’s soothing affections.

This is how it’s going to be, she told herself. For a couple more years at least.

That didn’t mean she had to like it, though.

Sometimes, they let pesky urges get the better of them and did irresponsible things. Astrid was chopping up an old dead tree with her axe (cringing all the while; the blacksmith was going to kill her when he saw her weapon) for firewood when she heard a rustle behind her. She immediately snapped to high alert, hefting her axe in front of her.

“Who’s there?” she barked.

“Hey, it’s just me,” a nasally voice assured her as a figure slipped out from behind a trunk, his hands in front of him placatingly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Astrid let out a breath and loosened her grip on her axe.

“Hiccup. Is everything okay?” she asked concernedly.

“The General is properly secured; I just checked him,” he assured her. “I just needed a little break - and to do this.” He cupped her face and kissed her. Astrid almost dropped her axe at his forwardness. They shouldn’t - they shouldn’t … something. But oh, she thought as her hands slid up his shoulders and he pinned her against the tree, maybe they could spend a few moments …

“You need to go back,” Astrid insisted after they had lost track of time. “It’s too suspicious. You were only supposed to be gone long enough to relieve yourself; that doesn’t take too long.” Hiccup grumbled.

“He’s awful company.”

“He has valuable information you could try to get out of him.”

“Mmm. Fine. There is that.”

“Go now. He’ll know exactly what happened if we both come back together. And fix your tunic; it’s rumpled.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Um, and your hair,” Hiccup pointed. She touched her braid and swore. He chuckled nervously.

“I’ll be going now. See you soon, Hofferson.”

She arrived at camp half an hour later, her hair rebraided and firewood in tow. At one point Hiccup even accidentally called her by her real name.

“What did you say?” Astrid asked, trying to channel a proud knight being upset they were called a woman’s name.

“Astor, of course. What do you think I said?” Hiccup asked smoothly. She shook her head internally. She just hoped Krogan hadn’t caught the slip up. He looked like he was sleeping. Even if he wasn’t, there was no need to be paying attention to them. They were fine.

“I can’t believe you did that!” she hissed at him when they switched night shifts.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized groggily.

“We can’t risk sneaking off again,” Astrid decided. Hiccup acquiesced.

Never mind that she instigated the rest of the times they snuck off for the rest of the journey.

.oOo.

They arrived at the Berk Palace at last, grimy and sore but triumphant, Krogan handcuffed and blindfolded on the pony they had managed to buy a couple days back. The guards at the gate were waiting for them and jumped into action as Hiccup pushed his hair back and gave them a tired smile.

“Your Highness. Sir Hofferson,” they greeted, sneaking glances at the prisoner behind them.

“Would someone please notify the King of his son’s arrival?” Astrid prompted them as they gaped, unmoving as the three travelers passed through the gates. The guards snapped back to attention, one bellowing for a page boy.

The outer courtyards were as busy as ever, if a little more serious than they had been before they had left. It had been more than a month since Astrid had initially come for the Prince. They wove through the crowds that halted and stared at them as they made their way to the Eastern Entrance, a smaller door where the King usually welcomed close friends or officials on important business. Squires rushed to help the knights dismount from their steeds.

“Don’t take him down,” Astrid instructed, nodding to Krogan. “He’ll be easier to contain the way he is.” The squires nodded in understanding.

“Of course, Sir,” one assured her.

“Henry!” the King boomed as he appeared. He noticed Astrid and raised an eyebrow in surprise before shaking his head and muttering something that sounded like ‘should have known’ under his breath. “My dear Astor,” he greeted her cordially. Astrid bowed deeply.

“Your Majesty,” she returned. “I accompanied Hiccup on his mission without your permission.” King Stoick waved his hand.

“No matter,” he chuckled. “You two don’t seem to be able to be separated for more than a few months, and I can hardly begrudge your good influence on him.” Behind him, Hiccup blushed and grinned at Astrid, who fought not to look as if she wasn’t focusing on the King.

“The Dragons won’t be a problem, and we brought Drago’s General back to interrogate, sir,” Hiccup informed his father. The King smiled and patted his son on his back.

“Better than I could have hoped,” he praised. Hiccup beamed. “I’ll call a council meeting. You two should rest and recuperate. Give me your reports in the morning.” He led Hiccup into the palace with a hand on his back and looked over his shoulder at Astrid. “I believe your previous rooms are empty, Astor, if you’d like them.”

“I would be honored, Your Majesty,” Astrid bowed again.

The bath tub was big enough to lay down in entirely and full of scalding hot water. She groaned as her back muscles began to relax. Riding in the saddle while keeping a keen eye on Krogan and pretending not to notice the glances Hiccup kept stealing at her kept her back rigid and it was a relief to slump in the water. She had instructed the servants not to bother her, and took longer than she normally did washing herself, thoroughly wringing out her hair and skipping around in clean clothes before braiding it back in a crown and adding chain mail with a hood to her ensemble for dinner. They would be eating publicly, so one was supposed to dress finely, but it was disrespectful to wear a hat while eating, so the hood of chain mail would have to do. She was quite reluctant to cut her hair; she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to keep up the pretense as Sir Hofferson. She hadn’t exactly discussed such things with her parents, having avoided them after Hiccup’s arrival and then suddenly riding off after him. They would probably be worried sick. She had written them the night she had left with the Prince, citing that she was on a mission and would be unable to reach them for a while, but there would certainly be Helheim to pay with her mother.

Dinner was delicious as always. She was invited to dine privately with the Royal Family so she was not bombarded with questions about her mission. King Stoick did not ask many questions concerning what they had done, only of the journey and their health.

“The council will meet in a few days, and you two will be rewarded for your bravery and hard work,” he told them kindly. He turned to Astrid.

“I can invite your father, if you so wish,” he offered. Astrid inclined her head to him gratefully.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I would be honored to have my father in attendance.”

She retreated to her rooms and wrote down a comprehensive report of the past month, recounting the tales from the bars, the locations of the Dragon’s Den entrances, their weapons and fighting techniques as well as their numbers. She wrote of Hiccup’s bravery and, with a little pride, of her defeating Krogan. Satisfied she had all the details saved so she wouldn’t forget before submitting the report, she headed off to bed to catch a good night’s sleep.

Freya bless the one who had invented mattresses.

She was awakened a few hours later by a knock at the door. It could only be one person who knocked like that - but what was he doing at such an ungodly hour? The last stolen moment they’d had together flashed through her mind - she had pushed him up against the stable walls in the barn they had bought the new pony from and kissed him thoroughly until he was dazed before heading back to their horses as the prisoner. Astrid’s heart leapt into her throat as he tentatively knocked again. She pulled the door open a crack and grinned at him. He beamed back and she ushered him in, trying to shush the growing giggles in the back of her throat. She left him in the main room and ran to her dressing chambers, grabbing her robe’s large sash and belting it securely around her waist to give herself a figure and fluffing her hair absentmindedly. She was being absolutely ridiculous and wholly improper, but what else was one to do when the Crown Prince snuck out to see her at night?

“What are you even doing here?” she asked sternly because she had to have some principles. “Whatever you need, could it not wait til tomorrow?” Hiccup shook his head sheepishly, a shy smile on his face.

“You’ll be Sir Hofferson come morning,” he said. “I wanted to speak to Astrid.”

That wasn’t - that wasn’t romantic at all, Astrid huffed. Even so, she was glad the room was dark with dimly lit candles so he could gauge the color of her cheeks properly.

“Did you need to deliver your love poem in person?” she asked teasingly. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

“No. Unless-” he stepped forward, clasping her hand and bent down on one knee dramatically. “Do you wish for me to serenade you?”

“No-”

“My lady,” he declared, interrupting her with a mischievous light in his eye. “The glow of the moonlight dances upon thy flawless skin, whilst the candlelight sets thy locks afire.”

“Hiccup-”

“To Valhalla every mortal aspires but next to thee’s angelic form how could one ever wish to go higher?” Astrid ripped her hand out of his.

“That rhymed,” she accused him.

“That it did,” Hiccup laughed at her blatant colored cheeks.

“There’s no way you made that up on the spot,” Astrid said, incredulous. “How long have you had those verses up your sleeve?” Now it was his turn to blush.

“I didn’t - it wasn’t - I - not long,” he sputtered. He sighed. “I saw it in a book Mom was reading.” Astrid’s hands flew to cover her mouth.

“The Queen reads those things?” she dared to inquire.

“How else do you think my father’s speeches end up so flowery?” Astrid shook her head. She’d never thought about it - it didn’t matter.

“You can’t sneak off to see me every night,” she told him regretfully. “Someone would probably notice - and we can’t have that. Not to mention you would ruin my virtue even if we did nothing but talk.” Hiccup sighed.

“I have become spoilt with your presence, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I find myself disliking not being able to call you Astrid all the time. And after this, you might go back to your estate. I’ll have to take on more duties, be it fighting or ruling as well as trying to change the laws. I don’t know when we’ll see each other again. I don’t want you to leave.” Astrid wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest.”

“It’s not decided yet,” she tried to reassure him. “You may see me more often than you think.”

“It is stupid to start missing something before it’s gone,” scoffed Hiccup.

“Maybe, yes, but understandable,” Astrid countered.

“I just want to steal a few more moments with you before we have to go back to pretending you’re just my friend,” Hiccup confessed.

“Of course,” Astrid promised. “You can have me for a little while longer.”

.oOo.

Astrid was called into the Council Room the day the council arrived. She and the Prince were sent to the dungeons to retrieve the prisoner they had captured and prove his identity to the council.

“Long time no see,” Hiccup greeted the general as the jailor took out his keys. “Now we’re just going to ask you some questions, and it’ll do you good to answer as many of them as they ask. Astrid stepped inside the cell and hauled Krogan up. He groaned at the change in position and Astrid gave him a moment to recover before tying a blindfold around his eyes and setting off at a steady walk through the castle. Hiccup took up his other side, a firm grip around the prisoner’s arms. He had been fed, so he wasn’t too weak to fight back, but he kept their pace without complaint and made no move to fight against them. Was playing docile a strategy of his, Astrid wondered.

The guards to the King’s Council opened the doors for them. The King and Queen sat in the middle of the room, five council members on each side and eight additional knights and lords were present. They sat in extravagant chairs on one side of a long wooden table that spanned the side of the room. Often, the table was covered in maps and war diagrams, but those had been removed to hide any information from Krogan should he escape. The King also had multiple rooms he held council in; the battle plans were probably in another one.

The King’s Council consisted of the King, his Queen, and their closest confidantes along with Berkian Elders who could not be taken off the council, only resign from it when they saw fit. Gothi, a great great ancestor of the King that was hardly ever awake, dozed in the far left corner, while Mildew sat right next to Duke Spitelout on King Stoick’s right. Lord DeRange, another member of the Council sat on the other side of Lord Mildew, his son sitting next to him with a sharp grin on his face. Lords Svenson and Meathead and Thuggory were also present, as well as Captain Throk of the Berk Guard. Some of the other lords she did not recognize on sight but would probably remember them when she heard their names. A few knights she’d worked with including Sir Alvin and Sir Eret - now Captain Eret - sat around the table gazing interestedly at the man held between her and Hiccup.

“General Krogan,” King Stoick greeted the prisoner. “A pleasure to meet you in person.” Krogan smiled insidiously.

“My master looks forward to beating you on the battlefield,” Krogan returned. Some of the lords muttered and scowled at his impertinence.

“I’m quite sure that’s not going to happen,” the King narrowed his eyes. “But we could always discuss accommodations to be made for you or your family following the battle in exchange for something. Krogan remained silent.

“Why did Drago combine forces with the Dragons?” King Stoick asked. Krogan sneered.

“He won’t,” he said loftily. “The Dragons were an unorganized force that Drago wished to use in one of his plans, but due to unforeseen circumstances, they were cut from the plan.”

“Very well,” the King said, pleased that the conversation appeared to be going somewhere. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”

“I do believe I could tell you something,” Krogan said smoothly despite the grime still on his face and his hands behind his back. A couple of lords shifted forward eagerly.

“The number of soldiers Drago has?” one of them asked.

“Drago’s plan?” speculated another.

“Where is Drago?” King Stoick asked. The General scoffed

“Drago doesn’t employ traitors,” he sneered. “But the information I have pertains more to your own affairs. You have an imposter in your midst,” the dark skinned man declared dramatically. The effect around the room was instantaneous. Astrid stiffened and her face drained of color as she cast her gaze around the room. A traitor? In the council? Each man immediately glared at his neighbor suspiciously. The room felt like it was about to explode into a brawl but Krogan cut them off with an arrogant laugh.

“Who?” demanded King Stoick. Astrid cast a worried glance at Hiccup, her hand subtly moving towards her axe to be unslung if whoever-the-imposter-was decided to make a run for it. Then to Astrid’s shock, the prisoner jutted his chin at her. Gasps sounded around the room and Hiccup’s eyes widened in panic.

“Impossible,” Lord Mulch said stoutly. Astrid swallowed around a lump in her throat.

“Sir Hofferson is an honorable knight of mine and completely loyal to the crown,” King Stoick said in a low voice.

“You might be surprised,” Krogan sneered. “He wasn’t able to hide everything on the ride back; your so-called noble knight is a wench!” Astrid couldn’t stop herself from jerking back. Krogan suddenly lunged at her, dragging a cry of surprise from Hiccup.

“I’ll show you!” he shouted, his arms snapping his restraints. They must have been worn down while in the dungeon. She should have checked them before bringing him here instead of being distracted.

“Astrid!” her father cried desperately before clapping a hand over his mouth in horror. The General’s hands reached her helmet. Astrid twisted in an effort to escape his hold but he yanked the protective armor off her head. Her hair sprung into her face and blinded her as if in retaliation for her stuffing it into her helmet that morning.

She heard the sharp inhales of fury as she scraped her locks away from her face and Hiccup tackled Krogan to the floor. The King was blinking as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and the Queen had a surprised hand pressed to her mouth - although she looked more calm than upset.

“Bring me a new pair of manacles,” Hiccup ordered sternly but no one took their eyes off of Astrid.

“Astrid?” Duke Jorgenson asked dangerously. Astrid saw her father bow his head in shame and she wasn’t sure if it was for the instinctive slip of her name or her being found out.

“Who is this Astrid?” Lord DeRange frowned suspiciously.

“She’s my daughter,” Astrid’s father spoke up. The council swiveled to stare at him.

“Then who is Astor Hofferson?” asked Lord Bucket.

“No one,” Father replied. Astrid couldn’t help the pang in her chest at that. Yes, Astor was a fictitious name for her, but he - she - wasn’t nothing.

“I am Astor Hofferson,” Astrid said loudly. The Duke scowled fiercely at her and Lord Mildew muttered something derisive under his breath. “It is simply another name for me,” she went on. “It is I who has trained and fought and been knighted with the highest marks in the initiation. I who served in the Berk Guard for a year and defeated the Den of Dragons alongside our Crown Prince.” Hiccup, who had somehow managed to take Krogan’s belt and fasten it around the would-be attacker's wrists, stood up and gave her an encouraging smile.

“But you’re a lady,” protested a lord next to Captain Throk, whose own face was unreadable.

“Yes, I am a lady,” she said defiantly, focusing on Duke Spitelout’s scowl rather than her father’s panic or Hiccup’s pride. “But I am also one of the best knights in the kingdom and I will not stop serving the inhabitants of Berk. I have still helped the Prince bring in our most valuable prisoner of war. I have still fought and bled and proved myself capable of battle, and the discovery of my gender does not change any of that. I have not lied about anything but this, and have let others get to know me with my warrior’s spirit before they dismissed me due to poor misconceptions about my sex.”

“It’s blasphemous,” Lord Mildew sneered, the Duke shaking his head alongside him in agreement.

“There are truly no rules explicitly against it,” Astrid countered. “It is just not done. It has been done now.”

“We could never accept her as a pure lady,” Mildew protested. “Our women are to be models of chastity and decorum. She has been sullied by cavorting with lads who could not help themselves, and no one to stop her wantonness in seducing them. No one would marry her.”

“I will,” Hiccup spoke up. Astrid turned to him, a protest on her lips reflexively. “I have witnessed her since the beginning of her deception and can attest to the entirely modest attitude she has shown around my peers. She never entered while we were bathing or even attended the trips to drink and bed pretty peasants. She has behaved with the utmost modesty allowed for her situation and even if all the other lords were foolish enough to not desire her, I have fallen in love with her.” He shot Lord Mildew a dangerous glare as the man opened his mouth. The crotchety old lord shut it obediently like a chastened dog. “I have fallen in love with her wisdom, her battle prowess, her bravery, and lastly, her dedication and her beauty.” He stared the lords in the eyes defiantly. “From before I knew her true identity - and I’ve known for years -” cries of outrage followed his declaration as even the King’s jaw dropped at the omission. “I have known that she was the most capable of our peers. If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have been able to pass Squire training.” More cries of outrage followed his admission.

“Father,” Hiccup addressed the King who was glaring at Astrid. “I can think of no better future queen than Astrid. She can comport herself with every grace any other lady can, and can defend both herself and me in any dangerous situation as she has demonstrated for years. She is intimately acquainted with our battle tactics and leadership abilities, having studied from the same tutors as me. If something were to happen, she would still be perfectly able to run the kingdom. She already has practice with her own estate. And I love her,” he added. Stoick stared at him stonily.

“Is she the reason you have been pushing to change the laws around women’s inheritance?” Stoick asked. Lord Mildew practically choked and Astrid found herself wishing he didn’t catch his breath again.

“Yes, Sir,” Hiccup admitted. “She has opened my eyes to the capabilities of our women, if only we let them. Dad, we have a serious war coming up soon and we need as many fighters as we can get to end it quickly.”

“Preposterous!” cried Mildew.

“You dare interrupt your future king?” Hiccup asked venomously. The air stilled. Hiccup walked slowly to the center of the room and gazed into every one of the lords’ faces until they looked away.

“I am the one who will inherit my father’s throne when he is gone,” he said quietly but clearly. “I am the one who will take on the burden of caring for an entire kingdom and endeavoring to do right to all. And I know I will not always succeed. There were countless times I wished to relieve myself of such a burden. But I have accepted it now, and I will embrace my duties to the best of my ability. Women are an integral part of our society. Without them we cannot have heirs or mothers. Why should we disregard them, then? Would anyone here argue that our Queen is not the strongest woman in the land?” Everyone bowed their heads towards the Queen in respect, who beamed upon her son. “I wish for my wife to be equally as magnificent.” It was all Astrid could do not to duck her head in embarrassment but she held it high, focusing on the Queen.

I cannot be you, she said silently. But I can try to be my best as you would. Queen Valka’s face softened a smidge, and she inclined her head ever so softly towards the woman knight.

“But we cannot stand to have a lord who would so gleefully lie to us,” Lord Thuggory said with a predatory gleam in his eye. He was long contemptuous of the large estate the Hoffersons boasted next to his paltry one in comparison. “Who knows what else he might hide from us? He could be feeding our secrets to Drago, for all we know, with his wench in the trenches alongside our generals.” Astrid’s father stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the cold tile.

“The only thing I have lied about is the gender and name of my child,” Sir Hofferson hissed. “My daughter is perfectly adept at running my estate and I taught her enviable skills that many of your sons lacked, but her own discipline and bravery were always hers. I selfishly and cowardly allowed her to continue and expose herself to such dangers because I knew she would overcome them and endure for her family, but I always waited for the day we could cease the deception and bring her back as a lady. My eldest had a wonderful baby boy over a year and a half ago, so we called Astrid back to retake her ladylike mantle. It was never meant to be a lifelong deception.”

“Father,” Astrid interrupted, a mix of feelings in her chest; pride at the acknowledgement of her skills, but also annoyance? Anger? Sadness? At how quickly she had been replaced and forced back into a proper lady. “Trying to pull me back into being your daughter you could marry off would mean it would be a lifelong deception. I don’t want it to be a lifelong deception. I hated being restricted to being just a knight or a lady,” she caught herself looking at the floor and pulled her head back up to face the men surrounding her. “I do wish to be a mother and raise a family,” she said clearly. “But I have found a great love for fighting for this country.” She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet at least three lords’ eyes before continuing. “And I believe it is a great disservice to have to choose between raising a family and protecting one’s county.

“Can someone take him away?” Hiccup demanded, gesturing to Krogan who had managed to stand himself up and was observing the proceedings with a gleam in his eye. “Your hastiness and distrust are exposing unnecessary information to our enemy. The King nodded to three knights in the room who promptly pulled out proper handcuffs and escorted Krogan quietly out of the room. Astrid took a moment to draw a deep breath and close her eyes. Her contour had been done so carefully and her chainmail newly shined, but all the lords would see was her messy braid, the way she had been caught off guard, and deem it poor presentation. Hiccup reached over to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her eyes. You look beautiful, his eyes assured her. Color rose in her cheeks and she resisted the urge to take all of her hair out to hide behind it and redo it, but she knew such a thing was not done in public. She gave Hiccup a brave smile and nodded at him. She appreciated him fighting for her, but this was something she had to conquer for herself.

“But how could she be a role model for our girls to hold their standards without pretty features?” one lord asked his colleague a little too loudly. Astrid felt Hiccup bristle beside her but spoke calmly.

“I use contour, as a lady does, to disguise my features and make them more masculine,” she said succinctly. The men broke into more murmurs.

“But what about dresses?” Another one demanded. “Such a physique is not made for dresses.”

“I fit dresses just fine,” Astrid retoroted, clenching her jaw in anger. How dare she be quizzed on the fit of her dresses at an impromptu trial. “And should any of you get any misconceptions about my or my sister’s virtue I would be happy to challenge you on behalf of my honor myself. Are you all confident you would win? Lords, you need not worry about my femininity. It is perfectly intact. During the summers, I often shed my armor and joined the weekly tea parties. No one ever suspected me of being anything less than ladylike. If I wash off the contour I use to make me look more masculine, my features are delicate and pretty. I can dance easily in most gowns, and can ride straddle and sidesaddle. But most importantly, I wish to continue to fight as a knight for Berk. I am proof that Berk can have a successful woman knight, and I plead to be allowed to continue to serve my country.

“It goes against our code of ethics to put our women in such danger,” a kinder lord said contemplatively.

“The path of a knight is one I chose and enjoy, Your Lordship,” she answered. “It would be cruel to deprive me of patriotic pride and the defenseless citizens of Berk an upstanding knight just because of her gender.”

“Sir Hofferson has indeed been an invaluable soldier in Berk’s service for years,” Throk said reasonably. “She was the best in her class during training as a squire, and distinguished herself during the knight trials as well as in the years afterwards. It appears she has proven herself more than the average knight does; why should we stop her now?” Astrid’s heart rose with hope and pride at her former captain’s praise.

“My son has vouched repeatedly for her extraordinary influence in motivating him,” the King mused. “I have frequently dined with her personally, and she is respectful and clever. And I have read the reports from his - her superiors and accounts from citizens. All of them paint a fair picture of a chivalrous knight who does not lie, steal, or cheat.”

“Except for the very basic fact of her gender,” sneered Duke Spitelout. The King stroked his beard.

“But the reason for that is understandable,” he decided. “And so of little consequence determining her character.”

“But we still have a war to fight,” another lord tried. “Surely it would stir up unrest to hear that such a high knight has been a mere woman all along. It would lessen morale.”

“Or it might be better to keep her as a well known knight to rally around,” argued a political rival of the previous lord. The rival looked at the King furtively. “While it is too progressive to uproot society for just one woman, we can agree she is exceptional, and as such exceptions could be made if needed.” He wasn’t necessarily happy with Astrid’s revelation or what she wanted to achieve, but with the Prince so firmly in her favor along with Captain Throk and the King’s fondness for her he sensed showing support was the smart political choice, although he wanted to make it an isolated case. The King narrowed his eyes in thought, reading between the lines the same as she and deciding the best course of action.

They could not risk rebellion against them before the war was won by giving women rights the soldiers did not approve of, but Astrid would be damned if she allowed herself to lose her position as a knight. This hadn’t been how she’d planned this at all, but in a way, she was glad it had happened while she still had favorable sway so soon after her accomplishments. The Prince vibrated with excitement, wanting to say something but sensing the wisdom of remaining quiet while his father thought. Her father looked astonished at the turn of events, but also hopeful. Astrid wasn’t sure how much she agreed with her father on her status as a knight. He had never liked her choice, but had also been the one to teach her to fight and figure and enrolled her in Squire’s Training anyway. His support had lessened as of late, but he had originally come to see her rewarded for bringing in a dangerous prisoner of war. She knew if she had been a true boy her father would have been bursting at the seams with pride, but never once had he ever told her he was proud of her for the same things.

“I think,” the King said slowly. “That the woman in front of us here has proved herself to be in every way exceptional. She has proven her warrior capabilities time and time again, as well as proven herself extraordinarily clever, both in her strategies and ability to be … discreet with her gender. And I think she will prove to be extraordinarily beautiful when she wishes - after all, we were all jealous at one point of her handsomeness at a ball, yes?” The Queen chuckled while most of the lords scowled.

“My daughter pouted because she didn’t get to dance with the elusive Sir Hofferson,” Astrid was sure she heard one of them mutter. “Now I’m glad.”

“Therefore, all in favor of granting her immunity or special status?” the King asked, looking around the room.

The Queen and Captain Throk immediately raised their hands, followed by Lord DeRange and his son. Young Captain Eret raised his hand with a jovial smile towards her, and she found one growing in response. Her father raised his hand. Hiccup raised his pointedly, and glared across the room at quite a few other people until another four hands were raised, including Spitlelout’s. The others, Astrid noticed with amusement, were the ones behind on taxes. They must know Hiccup knew, then.

Eleven hands were raised and nine were not. Then Gothi raised hers. Everyone blinked in surprise at her clear eyes as she gave Astrid a toothy smile.The King looked around the room, nodded decisively, and raised his hand as well. Thirteen. Thirteen votes against eight.

“It’s decided then,” the King declared. ”In light of her service to our country and her help in battle, I hereby grant - er - Sir Astrid Hofferson a lord’s status.” The room gasped. “Astrid Hofferson. You are now free to inherit, write a will, choose your own marriage, vote on council meetings, and fight alongside Berkian soldiers.” Astrid bowed, feeling too awkward to curtsy in pants.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She turned to the Queen. “And thank you, Your Majesty.” She bowed to Gothi. “And thank you, Elder. Thank you all for letting me continue to fight for our country!” Hiccup let out a triumphant cheer and Astrid couldn’t stop the laugh that fell from her lips, all giddiness and relief.

“Meeting dismissed,” the King boomed. “We will gather again to question the General and reward the two knights at a later date.”

“-Petition to enforce medical tests on squires in Training-”

“-Dad-” Hiccup said, pushing his way through the crowd.

Astrid silently watched her own father pull himself out of his seat and slowly make his way towards her. She wordlessly offered him her arm and he took it, leaning on it heavily as they walked out the throne room.

“I’m sorry, Astrid,” her father apologized as they left. Lords milled around them, some hastening down to tell everyone of the scandal. Astrid stared ahead. ‘It’s okay’ didn’t seem like the right response, but she couldn’t bring herself to hold anything against him.

“It was always going to happen, one way or another,” she said at last. “In a way, I’m glad it’s happened and dealt with for the most part. It was never something that would have stayed hidden forever.” Why did you never want my accomplishments to never see the light of day? Did you not think me worthy of them? She wondered.

“I never wanted you to have to deal with this,” he sighed defeatedly. “The politics, the careful maneuvering, the silent enemies - staying a knight in society means navigating all those things, and I wanted to keep you away from that.”

“I never minded,” Astrid said, her throat thick for some unfathomable reason. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t unfathomable. Maybe she was able to admit things to herself a little easier. “Society among women is much the same - although the silent dangerous games are that much more a part of it. And I don’t like it, but I can do it. I have always been prepared to do it. All I wanted - all I want -” she cut herself off, horrified at the raw emotion in her voice. They were still in the palace’s public halls, for Odin’s sake! Anyone could come along and hear her.

“What do you want, my dear girl?”

“I want you to be proud of me,” Astrid whispered. She felt a hot tear sting its way across the bridge of her nose and hung her head in shame.

“Of course I’m proud of you,” Lord Hofferson coraked. “You’ve accomplished things I could have never dreamed of, you never did what was expected of you, and I love you for it because you are my child.” He pressed a kiss to her messy hair. “I couldn’t be prouder of my Astrid.” She lowered her forehead onto his shoulder and they stood there, not embracing, but soaking in each other’s presence.

“Oh! I hope I’m not intruding -” Astrid immediately lifted her head off her father’s shoulder and frantically smoothed her hair.

“Hiccup! Oh, no, of course not - never - we were just - ahem. We were just finishing up,” she repeated. Her father was watching the proceedings with a decidedly amused expression as Hiccup gave her a soft smile.

“I was hoping I could accompany you to your rooms?” he asked. “So, that … certainly happened in there.” He glanced obviously behind him, indicating the Throne Room a few corridors back.

“Indeed,” Astrid shook her head incredulously. “I cannot believe it ended as well as it did.”

“The nerve of some of those lords,” Hiccup grumbled.

“They shall certainly face raised prices in Hofferson produce,” Astrid’s father added loftily. Hiccup looked delighted. Astrid had learned over the years that Hiccup was concernedly forgiving of all slights to himself, but could get hilariously petty when holding grudges on behalf of someone he cared about. He once picked on a poor stableboy, spreading the horse manure and stepping in it to make it harder to pick up and to replace the straw more often when he’d overheard the boy speaking derogatorily to Toothless (the stallion had tried to bite him) for a whole year until the boy had absolutely begged to be moved despite the superior pay for caring for the Crown Prince’s prize steed. It looked like now Hiccup had found a new set of men to torment on her behalf. They could pull some more pranks, Astrid decided with a small smile. The Dragon’s Den had revived memories of the good old days when they’d torment their instructors weekly, and Astrid found herself missing the thrilling passtime of setting up traps and not getting caught.

“I won’t be able to wear men’s garb to dinner,” Astrid realized. “Word would get around. I need to prove myself to be a girl to those who have heard the rumors.” Her father nodded.

“I shall send for some clothes from home and look into getting you some formal gowns as quickly as possible,” he promised.

“My mother’s seamstress, Nadia, is very skilled and prompt, and she has a friend, Minden, who’s skill and efficiency is equivalent to hers, if you’d wish to get into contact with them,” Hiccup offered. Her father thanked him and Hiccup kindly directed him to her rooms both in the palace and a little out in the city. “In the meantime, you are welcome to dine with us, Astrid,” Hiccup invited her. “My parents will want to question you in earnest now that I’ve declared my intentions towards you, as well as probably congratulate you.” Astrid managed a weak smile in spite of her dread.

“I would be immensely grateful, as I do not yet have the wardrobe to probably make a debut at court,” she admitted. Mother was absolutely going to kill her. Oh, Cami was going to have a field day.

“Well, I shall take leave of you two now to procure you a wardrobe as soon as possible,” Lord Hofferson excused himself. “A father’s work is never done,” he nodded at Hiccup, “You would do well to remember that.” Hiccup’s entire face turned beet red and Astrid scolded with her eyes, mortified. He just looked satisfied at their embarrassment and their comfortability around each other.

“Astrid?” Hiccup asked when they could meet each other’s eyes again. His hand found hers and Astrid did not pull away from his touch.

“Yes?” she asked, bemused as he ran a thumb over her knuckles contemplatively. He took a deep breath.

“If … I was to propose now, would you … accept?” Astrid stopped walking.

“Is this a proposal?” she asked.

“No!” Hiccup assured her. “No, this is me asking permission.” Astrid thought. She thought of the lord’s sneers and Cami’s. She thought of Astoria’s gentle encouragement and her mother’s more aggressive kind. She thought of her father, who was proud of her but tried to pull her out of danger’s way instead of standing behind her and believing she could fight her way through it. She thought of Hiccup, his boisterous attitude, the growth she’d seen in just two months. His support, the smiles on the faces of the King and Queen - the heat of his body and the taste of his lips. He was patient and he was handsome and he loved her and he was asking permission. She thought about what accepting his proposal meant to her - not just being claimed by each other, but promising herself to her country in a way that was scarier than pledging to die for it.

“Yes,” Astrid said. Hiccup’s eyebrows jumped in surprised delight, and he threw his arms around her.

“Oh Thor - really?” he drew back to look in her eyes. Astrid leaned forward to press her lips to his quickly. Anyone walking down the corridors could just take a different path, she decided.

“Yes,” she said again. “Of course I’ll say yes when you ask me.” Hiccup’s face broke into a beautiful grin.

“It should be public, though,” Astrid decided. “For their benefit. We’ve kept everything else so secret, we should start letting Berk know about us.”

“Very well,” he smiled. “We can do that.”

“What should I wear?” asked Astrid. “The future princess of Berk should look her best when she gets engaged.” Like hell was she going to make the mistake of not being impeccably dressed for the event - everything about her was going to be torn to shreds by all the others rejected by Hiccup by default, and she wasn’t going to give more ammunition they didn’t need.

“Mmm,” Hiccup hummed, cocking his head as he examined her. “Blue that brings out your eyes.” Astrid’s eyes jumped up. Mother had actually commissioned such a dress a while ago. It would be perfect, and was up to the latest styles with a comfortable corset and the skirt wide enough to not make her legs feel trapped.

“When will I wear it?” Astrid asked archly, enjoying the discussion. Hiccup’s smile grew more cocky.

“It’s your decision,” he told her. “I’ll propose as soon as I see you in it.” Oh. He shouldn’t have done that. Astrid was going to make him wait - or maybe, wear it immediately. Dammit, she didn’t know when she wanted to wear it. Hiccup’s grin morphed into a fully blown smirk. The bastard. He had known exactly what he was doing.

“Be on your guard, Your Highness,” Astrid’s eyes narrowed at him. “You’ll never guess when I wear it.”

“I’ll always be ready when you are,” he replied smoothly, and bent down to kiss her hand.

Whoever taught Hiccup to say those kinds of things reflexively like that needed to be charged - and thanked. Viggo - she was pretty sure it was Lord Viggo who had handled tutoring Hiccup in additional speech and politics. He had turned the Prince into a dangerous man.

She pulled her hand out of his grasp and brushed her pants self consciously. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she smiled at him. Turning to the last corridor towards her rooms. “Goodbye, Hiccup.”

.oOo.

Her mother arrived at the palace faster than the wind.

“You ran off at us for a month!” she said dangerously. “And then you return and your identity is found out! Thor have mercy on us, young lady! You have sent Berk into a scandal before you even made your debut!” Cami and Astoria arrived a week later bearing more clothes.

“It is even more imperative you make a good impression on your debut,” Mother shook her head before snapping at the maids to get to work.

Four hours later saw Astrid in a light white gown; the color every girl wore to her debut. She was older than most, of course, which had made her hesitate initially at the color, but it made her look sweet and innocent and feminine, and that was exactly what Berk needed to see. Her hair only fell halfway down her back, so her updo could only be so big, but they expertly wove strings of pearls (and in some places, straw) into her hair to give it an elegant updo.

“You look perfect, darling,” Mother said approvingly as Astrid looked at herself in the mirror.

“Not yet - wait,” Astrid insisted, hastening over to her drawers to dig through them. She emerged with her golden hair comb. “Please,” she said, handing it to the maid who had done her hair. “Could you add this?” Astrid’s mother raised an interested eyebrow at the one lone comb in her hair but said nothing.

“It won’t be very visible, miss,” the maid told her apologetically.

“That’s fine,” Astrid assured her. “As long as it’s there.”

Her debut was a rousing success. Sir Jorgenson in particular took an interest in her, much to his father’s consternation. After two dances Astrid couldn’t find herself refusing the Prince swept her away coldly, a scowl on his face.

“You look awfully moody tonight,” Astrid teased him.

“I’m finally able to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room for the first time after years of watching you with others, and what does my idiot cousin do? Try to stake a claim on you.”

“Possessive,” Astrid tutted because she refused to let herself blush. Hiccup ducked his head apologetically.

“Sorry,” he apologized. He spun her elegantly - she was so glad to find he was a good dance partner. It seemed they fit together in every aspect - and pulled her in close by her waist as she returned. “You look absolutely radiant tonight,” he complimented her in a low voice that made her fight not to shiver. “This is my first time seeing you properly dressed up. I can barely breathe.” Astrid was struggling with keeping her own breaths steady, not that she was going to tell him. “I like your hair comb,” he whispered as the dance ended.

She danced with Eret next, who was both delighted and furious at the fact she had been a girl the whole time. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize,” he kept shaking his head. “I can’t believe you never told me! Seriously, you knew my secrets! Oh, everyone’s faces …”

The news of her dual identity was taken pretty smoothly. Or at least, as smoothly as she could expect. She sparred with the soldiers in the mornings with her age-old tunic and pants, her chest bound securely and her hair pulled back into a smart French braid. A few older lords and knights also had deluded themselves into thinking she was a worse fighter now that they knew she was female, so they thought to challenge her. She happily put them in their place. In the evenings, she donned her gowns and jewelry and danced - or, more importantly, established female allies. There were plenty of women who viewed her status as a knight and being politically equivalent to a lord was absolutely blasphemous. Not to mention it was no secret the Prince was enamored with her, so they inevitably deduced that the whole reason for disguising herself as a boy in the first was just to ‘get her claws in the Heir.’ Others, however, were more open to the idea and even impressed at her accomplishments. And how much would you be willing to stand behind me with your family’s influence to acquire these rights and accomplishments for even more women? She asked through her smiles and delicate conversation. ‘Long live the King,’ ‘To good health!’ they’d toast her, nodding delicately in silent answer of her unspoken question. Heather smirked at her from across the room and Astrid dipped her head in acknowledgement. They weren’t friends yet, but they would be soon.

A few days later, she wore the blue dress.

It had been a while since she’d properly enjoyed the power of a beautiful woman in a room full of men. On the battlefield, there was a certain point when opponents were able to recognize their doom in her walk. She had grinned then, feral and covered in blood, and swung her sword. Now, her smile was beautiful, but wide like a particularly satisfied cat as she sauntered down the steps into the ballroom.

Her dress was bright sapphire silk that rustled and shone as she walked. Jewels hung from her neck and ears, but subtly. There was one piece of jewelry she wanted everyone’s eyes on tonight. Her hands had been carefully soaked and scrubbed, her hair was artfully curled and pinned, her axe headed hair comb nestled securely into the intricate updo. Heads turned to watch her but she sought out Hiccup, finding him and sending him her best I-dare-you look. A slow smile spread across his face as he took in her dress, and he gave her an imperceptible nod.

Dinner was eaten first to ensure everything would be present during the dancing and drinking. Before the first man could claim her hand for a dance Hiccup appeared by her side.

“Lady Hofferson,” he said loudly, discreetly drawing everyone’s attention as he led her subtly toward the center of the room.

“Why, of course,” Astrid responded, all concern. “Whatever do you need, Your Highness?” Hiccup bent over her head and Astrid knew the moment clicked for everyone watching. It was all she could do to keep a smirk off her face as the Crown Prince knelt before her..

“My lady,” Hiccup said clearly. “You have held my heart captive for years and now it has simply made you its new home. You have been with me through thick and thin, even back when I was naught but a skinny fishbone, but even then, you believed in me. And I have believed in you through every battle, every fight, and everything else we’ve weathered together. You are wise and kind and clever and so beautiful you take my breath away. You could do me no greater honor than if you accepted my hand in marriage and became my wife.” Mothers of other contendents for Hiccup’s hand gasped in outrage and resignation. Astrid held her right hand over her heart. They had agreed on the proposal being public, but Astrid hadn’t expected such a heartfelt confession, so her response came out more emotional than she’d planned.

“Yes,” she said, shaking her head. She had the strangest urge to laugh and cry at the same time. “Of course,” she said again. Of course she’d say yes. He rose, a triumphant smile on his face as he slid the ring - a beautiful, intricate thing inlaid with small diamonds and sapphires - onto her finger and clasped her left hand. The orchestra struck up as if on command, and Hiccup expertly guided her into a dramatic waltz - her mother’s favorite to dance with father, and Astrid’s favorite by default. It was intimate and close, and neither’s gaze left the other’s faces throughout the entire dance. They didn’t speak. What words were there to describe the rising feeling of rightness, the utter terror of being in front of all these people, the restraint they were showing not immediately locking each other in a passionate embrace.

“It was my mother’s,” Hiccup shared quietly near the end of the waltz, flicking his eyes to her new ring glimmering in the candlelight. “I asked her for one of her rings and she told me to choose. When I saw that one, I knew. I saw you.”

“It’s perfect,” Astrid told him earnestly. “It’s better than I could have ever imagined. It fits perfectly.”

“Good,” Hiccup nodded approvingly. “Mom said it had always been a little big for her, so I hoped it’d still fit you.”

“I have calluses on my fingers,” Astrid told him dryly. “It’s a good thing it was too big for her.” The dance ended but instead of bowing Hiccup bent down and kissed her slowly. The kiss was chaste and sweet and oh-so-aware-of–everyone-watching, but she drank in every second greedily until they parted softly. She smiled up at him through her lashes. They had fully claimed each other in front of the court. There was no dispute about their relationship now. And Astrid felt proud.

Her brother in law swept her up in a congratulatory dance while Hiccup was congratulated by all the men.

“She’s a real looker,” Snotlout said obnoxiously.

“She’s taken,” Hiccup bit out.

“Man, it must be nice to just marry your bro,” Sir Thorston told Hiccup wistfully. “You know, you’ve already lived with them for years and been through thick and thin together. Getting a wife is weird; they’re all prissy and refined - except for my sister, of course. She’s a right shrew.” Lord Fishlegs stiffened.

“She may be your sister, but she is an Ingerman now, and I cannot allow you to speak ill of our women, Thorston.” The Thorston brother shuffled and muttered under his breath but said no more about his sister that night.

“You’ll take good care of her,” Eret grinned at him, squeezing Hiccup’s hand a little too hard. Hiccup found himself appreciating a man that cared enough about her to threaten his future king.

“Of course,” he agreed cordially and increased his own grip. “And you with Heather, of course.” Eret released his hand and bowed.

“I’m honored to have your blessing,” he said quietly.

He dared not go near the Hofferson matriarch, not sure if she’d threaten him or welcome him enthusiastically, and he was a little afraid to find out.

“That was a beautiful proposal, son,” his mother told him gently. Hiccup turned to embrace her.

“Mom. Thanks.”

“You are lucky to have her.”

“I am indeed.”

.oOo.

After they had gauged the public approval of Astrid, it was back to war preparations. It had been two months and they had been stealthily gathering the remains of their forces without alerting Drago. Hofferson is a girl, the trenches whispered incredulously. Some refused to recognize the unaltered feminine features now accompanied with a braid. But then they saw her fight on the front, and she was still as legendary as before. In such cases between life and death, her gender didn’t matter, only that she was protecting them, charging out into the battle, bleeding freely as she cut down enemies. She was a protector who would never stop fighting, and well, the soldiers could hardly let themselves be shown up by a girl, and so, too, they charged.

The battles were exhausting. Every other night Astrid almost prayed for death, even with Hiccup lying beside her. The soldiers said nothing about Astrid and Hiccup disappearing into each other’s tents to ‘tend each other’s wounds’ and not coming out for the rest of the night, but who cared? Astrid treasured those nights together, filled with the desperate closeness of two people begging the other not to leave the next day. Astrid received many, many more scars all over her body. This was not a fight to be fought lightly any more. There would be no more fighting after this, either because they won or lost, but knew no one was coming to save her unless she saved herself first.

The Prince and his Knight In Shining Armor were a power duo that swept across the battlefield. The King moved them around the battlefield to boost morale as the other forces prepared to battle Drago’s impending forces from the north. She was assigned a squire from Training, young and shaky looking as she quietly showed him how to polish her armor.

“I’ll probably be too tired to help you at night,” she admitted. “But I need my axe and sword sharpened every day. Can you do that?”

“O-okay Sir Hofferson,” the boy whispered in awe.

“Good,” she breathed as Hiccup entered the tent, dirty and grimy, kissing her neck all the same and began rubbing her shoulders. They spent their evenings catching their breaths from the day’s fight and discussing strategies, too tired to pick themselves off their cot. Astrid’s squire polished her armor til it gleamed every night and occasionally called female attendants to treat her to a delightfully hot bath when the injured were all too dead to treat so the hot water wasn’t needed for the night.

“Not much longer,” he whispered reassuringly into her hair.

“Not much longer,” he promised into her lips as they kissed.

“Not much longer,” he pleaded from between her arms as they slept.

“Not much longer,” he begged into her sweaty neck amidst the throes of passion.

And then, ‘not much longer’ became ‘hush, it’s over now.’

The war was won with casualties and hefty loss. Hiccup realized a way to challenge Drago, and so raced off like the heroic sacrificial hero he was to defeat Drago while Astrid kept the rest of his enemies at bay. She went down first, the sea of Drago’s men drowning and choking her as she fought. She needed … needed to keep them away … away from - who? What? … Hiccup!

Hiccup who was fighting still. Hiccup who was fighting for Berk and for her. Hiccup, who loved so entirely he couldn’t hide it on any part of his face. Hiccup who so staunchly defended the weak. Hiccup, who she was supposed to be protecting! Hiccup, who had lost a leg because she hadn’t been able to save him -

“Hiccup,” Astrid breathed in relief as she opened the door and saw him. He lay in his bed, his legs uneven lumps under the blankets. Astrid entered the room, shaking her braid out of her helmet and tucked it under her arm as she sat by the bed.

“Hey, there,” she greeted him softly. Hiccup just sighed.

“Thanks for coming by again,” he said in return, looking stonily down into his lap. He was bored and hated being still. He had his sketches nearby but they weren’t as fun when Hiccup couldn’t go down to the forge and tinker with hot metal until his diagrams made sense.

“Trader Johann has been officially banished from Berk for aiding enemy’s armies as of today and Toothless says hi,” Astrid told him conversationally. “I took him for a nice long ride today.”

“Thanks,” Hiccup grimaced. “I miss him.”

“He misses you too,” she responded immediately. “He can’t wait to see you again.”

“And then what?” he scoffed. “I’ll just tell him, ‘Hey, bud. Nice to see you again. Unfortunately, I’m lame and won’t be able to ride you.’”

“Don’t say that,” she frowned. “You’ll still be able to ride,” she tried to comfort him. Hiccup gave her a shaky smile.

“I can’t if I’m not able to walk,” he said bitterly.

“Hey,” Astrid said, reaching out to hold his hand. “You can do anything you put your mind to. I’m not saying this is going to be easy, but I know you’ll be able to do this.”

“Why are you still here, Astrid?” he asked. “I’m not going to make you marry me now I’m like this.”

“Good,” she said crisply. “Everyone can know it was my choice.”

“You don’t deserve an unwhole man like me.” She slapped him lightly.

“You are still Hiccup, leg or not,” she said firmly. “And I love you and I would never marry anyone else. You can still be a warrior - look at Gobber. And you’ll be a great King. Taking your leg didn’t take your heart as well. Losing your leg didn’t mean you’d ever lose me.”

“How did I ever deserve you?” asked Hiccup.

“You are the one man in the world I could stand to marry, Hiccup. You don’t have competition.” They laughed.

“Get better. Take all the time you need,” she kissed him. “But you aren’t getting out of the wedding.”

After a year, Hiccup walked and rode easily - or at least, without complaint. He got aches and plains aplenty, which Astrid had taken upon herself to identify quietly so she could take care of them before Hiccup had to ask - if she waited for him to ask for any help, he’d never ask - and learned to rub and massage the right oils and to anticipate his pain on rainier days, or those instances where he ran around castle determined to help everyone he could. He was still nimble and light on his feet, just a little clumsier than before which he hated but Astrid found endearing.

“You’re perfect,” she giggled as he bumped into the foot of the chair and swore. She caught him before he fell and he wrapped his arms around her in mock desperation.

“That would have hurt if my leg wasn’t metal,” Hiccup muttered.

“Mmm. Well then I guess it’s good you have a metal leg.”

“Shut up.”

“Never!”

.oOo.

She never wanted to have a wedding, until the day came for her to have her very own. When she’d been a little girl, she’d never cared for the fuss about weddings. The grooms were never handsome, and the girls, while beautiful, looked pale with overly rosy cheeks. She’d hated the idea of weddings and leaving her family, although now she’d learned that a healthy distance between her family didn’t prevent them from connecting frequently. And truthfully, by the end of those visits, she was glad to retire to her solitary rooms - although they were hardly ever empty. A certain newly crowned king of hers was partial to loitering around there for some unknown reason, but she let him. Someone had to protect the King while he slept.

On the day of her wedding, her hair had just reached her waist. Her maids left half of it out, the looseness representing her wedding night but also her freedom. She certainly had the freedom to kick someone without ripping the fabric if she so needed, but with Heather as her fierce Matron of Honor, she was rather certain Lady Eretson had any offensive company handled. She had not yet hung up her armor for good, only polished it carefully so that it still shone when she returned from her honeymoon. She was to be a warrior Queen, unafraid of fighting and of showing her scars. They had been hard earned, and served as a reminder of what she had overcome - and how she would still fight. It was still hard to change laws even as a lady with a lord’s status and betrothed to the king, but Astrid was nothing if not tenacious and she had been slowly winning simple rights one after the other. By the end of her honeymoon, women from families above a certain income would be able to inherit a small percentage. In a few years, they might have a female knight program. But she was getting ahead of herself. Today was selfishly all about her and Hiccup.

She looked in the mirror. Her makeup was light but dramatic, her pearls lavish but elegant. Her dresses’ skirts were loose but full. And the belt was heavy but worn with pride. She felt like she was walking on clouds even as they hung the ornate ceremonial cloak made from the hide of a white bear over her shoulders. In a few minutes, there would be an added crown on her head. (But somewhere among her shiny locks, a polished golden axehead gleamed.)

Her mother had tears in her eyes. “You look beautiful, my darling,” she said, sweeping her daughter into a hug.

“We’ll have to call you ‘Your Highness,’ now,” Cami, now at seventeen, said boldly.

“Of course not,” Astrid protested as she allowed all her sisters to pull her into a hug one by one. “You’ll call me Astrid like you always have and you can call him Hiccup, he won’t mind.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s your special name for him,” Agatha sighed dreamily. “There’s no need for us to intrude on it.” Astoria nodded in agreement.

“Nothing’s changed,” Astrid whispered to her older sister, letting her see the fear in her eyes. Astoria simply smiled in encouragement.

“Marriage is another adventure you will conquer like to do with everything else,” Astoria assured her. Astrid bent down to grin at little Gunner who was watching the proceedings with wide eyes. He was now decidedly her favorite nephew, as Astoria was a good mother but some of her sister’s little babies were squalling monsters. She suspected they were spoilers because their mother’s were, but that was just an older sister’s opinion. And it hadn’t stopped her heart from bursting with joy when they’d handed her an infant and she’d been terrified she’d drop it until she’d tucked it into her side.

“This is what we’re going to have,” she’d told Hiccup. He’d had a dazed look in his eye.

“I can’t wait,” he’d admitted.

And now, the day had come.

Astrid took a deep breath, and stepped outside.

#The Lady Knight #Knight!Astrid Hofferson #Prince!Hiccup Haddock #Hiccstrid #Hiccstrid fanfiction #HTTYD #my fics #my writing #Happy anniversary to my first ever fanfiction!

25 notes · View notes

donnabenevientosimpingzone · 1 year ago

Note

Hello hellooooooo, I have returned with another request ;^)

Could we get some Bernadette x Reader smut, pretty please?

-simp anon

Bernadette simping real lmao

(Female reader)

A light citrus taste hits your tongue as your lips collide into the other woman’s, suggesting that the dark Italian had eaten an orange for a snack while labouring away in the gardens around the manor. You paid little attention to the dirt and leaves that clung to your figure as you pressed against Bernadette with each kiss, gripping each side of her head tightly to keep her from pulling away.

“Hm, won’t even let me clean up?” The blackette teased with a low thrum from the middle of her sternum, her strong arms wrapping around your waist to squeeze you close. She raises a foot to kick backwards, closing the door in which she just came through.

Her thick voice resonated towards your core, like the deepest note of a guitar, plucking at your patience. Despite her words, the tight hold she has on you shows just how needy she was as well.

“Did you really have to work for so long?” You question with a stupid grin, sealing it with another long kiss.

“The garden won’t clean itself.” Bernadette replies with a cheeky grin before easily pushing you off of her and weaving past you to stride further into the manor. You follow her like a lost puppy, practically skipping as the dark Italian woman hums in her baritone voice. It’s a familiar lullaby, one that you always seem to forget the exact lyrics too, but remember well what its meaning is. One that she’ll sing to her baby sister during the harshest of storms, where the lightning lit up the sky as thunder rips it apart. While you knew the middle sister loved storms, and often would be out and about during them, Bernadette was inside with the youngest- cradling her with this lullaby. A few times you’ve walked in on the scene, unable to resist the urge to join.

“But you took so looooooong!” You complain in a playful whine, making your lover chuckle as she takes off her dirty accessories. “How come you took so long, when I know you’ve been pent up?”

“Me?” Bernadette smooths through pursed lips, curling them in a smile. “Oh, you’re referring to the video you sent me? Are you sure that I’m the pent up one?”

“Think about how I feel!” You exclaim, jumping forward to grab onto either side of the dark Italian’s unsaturated green shirt. “I was all warm with you in bed this morning! And you knew exactly what you were doing!”

“Oh, hm.” Your beloved grins, looking away from you in pretend cluelessness. “I don’t know. You just have the softest thighs, my love, I didn’t realize it would turn you on.”

“That’s bogus and you know it.” You retort with a grin, gripping her shirt and pulling her into another kiss. This time, Bernadette gives in and moans against your lips, sending electric sparks through your body. The dull itch in your abdomen roared to life as a warm explosion of heat overtook the space between your legs.

“Well, I know you,” Broad hands fell flat against your hips, holding them steady despite your attempts to seek relief against her thigh. “The more I deny you, the sweeter the release is.”

A humming moan leaves from the vibrations settled upon the middle of your throat as you couldn’t help the spreading heat across your face. Giggles leave your lips as the dark woman’s hands hook into the belt loop of your jeans and tug your pelvis closer, providing the firm surface of quadriceps for you to seek relief upon. Dense and thick hair tickles along your cheek as Bernadette rests her chin against your shoulder, warm breath blushing your ear.

“I know what you want,” She purrs in a quiet rasp, softening her grip to a more guiding palm against the curve of your backside. “I’ll take care of you, but you must show me you want it. Go on, good girl, I’ll give you what you need only after you show me.”

That does it for you, breaking away the restraints that stopped you from practically humping against your lover in desperation. Her thigh provides the perfect surface for your shivering legs to seek support, hips rolling against the surface to force the friction against already soaked lips. Already you could feel the viscous arousal coating the fabric that protected the treasure between your legs, the smell hitting your nose in a mild sample of approval. It must have reached Bernadette too, who moans into your ear, nipping incisors against the crest. It spurs you on more, grinding against her strong thigh, sometimes practically thrusting into it, letting your voice sing for her.

“Oh, amorina, your legs must be tired.” The dark Italian coos, noticing the way your thighs were shivering and the way your body was collapsing against hers for support. No longer able to stand, you were led to the couch, an expectant giggle leaving your lips as Bernadette took her place above you. Straddling your hips, the muscular woman reaches forward a hand to fist the front of your shirt, pulling your limp torso up easily to practically rip the fabric off all in one smooth motion. Damn. What a turn on. You sucked in your bottom lip as your lover hooks her hands beneath the hem of her own shirt, lifting it up and over her head until it was peeled right off from her figure. You were just admiring the way her ponytail was swinging free from the collar when suddenly, your vision was taken over by the dark green of the sweater-like shirt, suddenly finding yourself wearing the musky fabric.

Bernadette’s scent invades your nostrils aggressively along with the spices of the various plant life in the Beneviento garden. You recognize some of the potent scents coming from various flora, but as always- you focus on Bernadette’s scent. It’s become more intense from working underneath the blazing sun and soaking the secretions of salt from tired pores, but it was perfect, and you can’t help but tuck your nose beneath the collar.

“Awh, is mia amata comfortable?” The dark Italian hums, pulling down her sports bra that was still stained from sweating in the garden.

You nod with a satisfied hum in response, smiling beneath the fabric as your lover uses two fingers to ‘walk’ up your sternum, then trace back down to your pants. A squeak lives you involuntarily as the jean buttons are popped open, and you’re violently reminded of the arousal soaking your undergarments.

“Wearing my shirt… mmm- you know, that does something to me.” Bernadette mused, sliding off your pants with a flex of her chiseled biceps, making your mouth dry at the sight. Her eyes are focused intently on yours, and they’re almost all blacked out from the dilation of her pupils. There’s a light pink dusting her cheeks as she’s watching your sweet reactions to her actions, and you could tell there was some kind of swirling squeeze in her core from the way her abdomen muscles were contracting. She wanted you as much as you wanted her. Oh the thought makes your body leak.

“Seeing how you’re all mine.” Her thick voice has you in a spell, pressure spinning in a dizzying typhoon in your head as she’s peeling away the last barrier to the sacred space between your legs. Your lover bites her bottom lip at the sight of your soaked petals, clit swollen and pleading, you’re such a good girl for her.

Bernadette inhales with a satisfied sigh. “And you smell so good. My scent smeared all over you, even the Dimitrescu family wouldn’t dare take what’s mine.”

You pop your nose out from the collar of the shirt, taking the fabric between your teeth as you wiggle your hips, eager for your lover to reward you.

“Oh, oh- and so impatient~” Bernadette hums, tapping her lips with an index finger as a malicious grin breaks out across them. “I have an idea. Be a good girl and flip over for me while I go fetch something.”

“Be fast. Please.” You whine, but otherwise obey, huffing as you prop yourself up on your elbows as the dark Italian slinks away. A dark blush blooms across your cheeks as you turn onto your hands and knees, hearing the door click. Raising your head, you gasp lightly at Bernadette’s return, grasping the belt of a strap in one hand.

“Oh look at you,” The dark Italian chuckles, smiling at your reaction as she strides over and puts on the toy, joining you on the couch once more. You turn your head to look at her, knowing for a fact your entrance is practically drooling arousal at this point, eager to be filled. Her hand cups the curve of your ass, caressing it lovingly with a hum. “You look so beautiful looking over your shoulder like that. Don’t worry, my love. I’ll give you what you want, what you need. You’ve been such a good girl for me.”

You open your mouth to plead for her to go faster, but you’re quickly cut off when the base of Bernadette’s hand presses between your shoulder blades- shoving your face down into the cushions. Without another second passing, you feel the kiss of the rod as it’s slid along the soaked lips, lubing itself on your juices. It’s a lovely opportunity for your melted mind to predict the sort of size that was going to invade, and what sort of delicious stretch it’s promising.

“I think you’re ready for me.” Bernadette hums, placing a hand on your backside as she lines the tip to the entrance. “Are you?”

“Yes-” You gasp, repeating the word like a small chant. You’re been waiting for this all day- from the moment you felt her hands stroking your thighs in the morning- to the times you’ve looked out the window and watched her working out in the sun. Well, perhaps ‘look’ is too light of a description for what was basically shameless staring. “Yes, I am, please-”

“You want me?” Bernadette moans, starting to apply pressure against the pretty petals, “Good. Because I want you too.”

Relief hits your body like a truck the moment your lover enters- strap lubed thoroughly to slip inside- pushing out a stretched out moan from your dropped-open mouth. Your insides clench around the toy, trying to guide it deeper within you. Bernadette’s hands are on you in a second, smoothing over the skin, and slipping underneath the green sweater-shirt. A whimper slips from your lips as more of you are forced apart by the rod, until the entire thing buries itself within you. A perfect fit.

“Taking me so well. Oh- and you’re even backing up into me.” Bernadette purrs as she slides her hands down your spine, hooking around your hips to keep them steady as you’re warming the toy.

She rolls and adjusts her hips, making the toy knock against your walls, making you moan and squeak. If she pushes just a bit more, a sharp pleasurable pain pops within your abdomen as it kisses your cervix, making you loudly groan. Just thinking about the possibility of her thrusting so hard that it pounds against it was enough to turn you on more, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the dark Italian woman.

“Impatient.” She tsk’ed, making you whine.

“I’ve waited all day!” You retort, attempting to wiggle your hips against the strong grip of your lover. “I’ve been good!”

“Have you?” Bernadette questions, starting to pull out. You whimper.

“Yes! Yes I have! C’mon- please!” At this point the tip was the only thing in you, and she wasn’t pushing back in. You could try to push back, but the dark Italian’s grip is far too strong.

“How can I say no when you beg so sweetly?”

The hard thrust into you makes you roar in pleasure. If it wasn’t for Bernadette’s grip, you were certain that your legs would have failed you and you’d collapse into the couch already. With your shivering body in her hands, the dark Italian takes it slow. Her hips move predictably, sliding out slowly before inserting at a slightly faster speed, making sure the sheath fully enters you before repeating. Low moans draw out of you, your arms reaching for the pillow that is laid against the backboard of the couch, drawing it into a tight embrace just to have something for your hands to hold onto. You could feel the smooth surface sliding within you, every stretch as the bulbous tip willed your inner walls apart.

Bernadette was calculated with her motions, angling perfectly to stimulate the most sensitive parts within you. Slow and sensual was her favourite way to make love to you, taking hours to get you off, and maybe even denying you the release. Oh you prayed she wouldn’t choose to do that this time.

“You moan so sweetly, mia cara.” your lover compliments you, still holding your hips tightly to control the pace. She could tell that you were more than ready to just throw your backside into her, taking her with such greed that there would be no time to savour the process. Oh, but she so did love the nights she let you take and take and take- more and more- all of her at your disposal to devour.

Bernadette licks her lips at the slick sounds from the sheer amount of arousal your body was producing, lethargic moans leaving you despite your body’s shivering state. Thighs tense, shoulder blades drawn, the fabric of Bernadette’s shirt suddenly felt constricting and stuffy. Each time you breathed in through your nose, however, the musk invaded your senses and made your eyes roll. You couldn’t find it within you to care anymore, whining as you resist her hold, throwing strength into your pelvis to move.

“Desperate?” Bernadette chuckles, letting go of your hips and running her hands along your backside. “Go on then. Show me.”

Oh this is exactly what you wanted to hear. With reckless abandon, you now throw yourself against her front, changing grip from the pillow to the couch cushion as you thrust backwards, swallowing her strap greedily. Your moans increase in volume and frequency as you chase your orgasm, having been pent up all day.

“Mmmm, I could get used to this.” You hear your lover drone, her hands finding your thighs, guiding your movements to the right angle to get the rod to hit your insides just right. The repetitive spearing of the toy shoots electric storms of pleasure through your system, begging for more and more of the sensation, guiding what little control you had left. You can only do so much though. Despite the primal instinct to breed, climax just won’t bestow its presence to you, and you find yourself begging your lover to help.

“Please- Bern- I… oh…” You drown your own voice in your moans, trying your best to keep the progress you’ve made, but feeling your body fail at keeping the strength to go on. “I can’t- ah… please- I need your help.”

You’re so close- you’re just right there- and relief arrives when a strong hand wraps around your waist and finds home on your clit. A dark chuckle is your only warning before the assault begins- a complete pounding from the source- and you find yourself unable to stop whatever sounds left your mouth. Your elbows buckle and you fall back onto the pillow, biting into the case in the futile attempt to quiet. All it does is make you look even more like a disaster somehow. More of a disaster then your current position of being plowed mercilessly by your beloved.

With her skilled hands on your clit, the climax comes sooner than you anticipated. Without her strong hands on your hips, providing support, your legs fail and slip from beneath you as your body is wrecked with an earth-shattering orgasm. Your spine ducks inwards as you curl in on yourself, silently screaming into the pillow you embraced tightly in your arms, creaming all over Bernadette’s strap.

Sweet release. You fall into a limpless bundle on the couch as afterglow takes hold of you, and your lungs desperately try to catch up with your breath. A small moan leaves you when Bernadette pulls out, leaving you feeling awfully empty. But she makes up for it by settling next to you and snuggling into your shoulder.

“Well done, tesoro.” She whispers into your ear, soft hands caressing along your figure, rolling pressure against places to undo the knots in your body.

You just hum and nod, burying your face into the fabric of your lover’s shirt, which smells like sweat and sex. A small break, and you’ll return the favour. You couldn’t ignore the way your lover was grinding against you. Damn. Bernadette knows what you want.

#ask #resident evil village #resident evil #bernadette beneviento #fanfic #bernadette x reader

29 notes · View notes

kick-a-long · 1 year ago

Text

Forgot to explain antisemitism to my husband for the hours and months and years required for an interfaith relationship before marriage,

But he believes me unconditionally. I’m lucky I picked a good one. We even talked honestly about where we would run to (and what would happen to his law license) which he usually laughs off. The difference this time? He works at a very leftist ngo and has seen the statements his colleagues have been making.

Not all Jewish/goy unions are like this. I’m very very relieved that I got lucky.

For example:

Alice Walker, deeply and unapologetically antisemitic, was not always that way. her first marriage was to a Jewish man who worked in tandem with black organizations to legally dismantle black discrimination in the south. His family hated her for not being Jewish and for being black. They were awful. But their marriage ended many years later when she became very conspicuously antisemitic and refused to listen about its history.

My own mother converted to Judaism and was FAR more observant than my Jewish father but later in life became what I would generously call “Jewish hostile” when their marriage began breaking down.

I always knew there was a possibility of me becoming more Jewish or marriage related friction causing that same kind of situation. But we’ve been married 5 years and together 13. He has spent his time, body and soul helping poor renters protect themselves from being evicted. He doesn’t have illusions about the poor being “innocent victims” or even expecting his clients to be “worthy of help.” Some of them have threatened to kill him, one spent everyday spending hours yelling at him and then got her mother to call to do the same. He doesn’t need “good” clients to help him. I know that he’s a believer that all people are capable of switching between monsters and humans but that doesn’t diminish his work to help the vulnerable. In some ways he has a more Jewish perspective on humanity than I did.

If you’re Jewish and losing friends because they were easily converted into conspiracies and antisemitism try to keep your partner in the loop without letting your anger and suspicion get between you.

If your partner is Jewish and you aren’t, remember there is no Jewish history about finding lasting safety. Believing that you (Jewish) must be kind and respectful of others culture and defending peoples rights and also that at any given moment you (Jewish to any 1/2, 1/4, 1/8, degree) will have to drop everything and RUN because the people you helped, the people you loved, want you dead, are the twin beings inside almost every Jew.

One of the reasons why you don’t see a lot of Jews attacking the character of “good” anti Zionist Jews, is we all get it. They think they can bargain their way out of antisemitism. Just like house slaves that thought they could escape being a “real” slave by fully buying into racism (and maybe getting off on the power of being the slaves elevated by slave owners for hating blackness.)

It’s a lot to ask of any person to “get” the cultural history let alone the cultural trauma they partnered into. Forgive, forget, but don’t be shocked if either of you sounds a little nuts sometimes. I sometimes go full doomsday prepper on him. And he lets peoples shitty behavior slide when I would go full flaming sword. It’s important to remember the daily reality.

Politics is NEVER as important as deep love between two people. It’s essential to remember that and remind loved ones you want to keep of that. Politics is theory and your life together is reality.

I used to like the idea of relationships as romantic and dreamy, now I thank god it’s reality. It’s hard as a rock and just as flexible sometimes. That has its cons but I’ll take every single one for the pros.

Ride or die for each other is what it means. Be ride or die and expect nothing less from any partners in your life. Ask them for it but only if you can truthfully tell them they have it from you. You can’t be the singular unique person that anyone loves if you are only your identity and vise versa.

#jumblr #antisemitism #ramblings #love #interfaith family #ride or die

23 notes · View notes

softie00 · 2 years ago

Text

"From her place at the delivery stool her eyes roamed across the unblemished midnight sky. There were innumerable stars prancing around the black vastness accompanying the moon as they danced a soft tango together. Nights were serene; peaceful and she always found herself enthralled in it. The twinkling seams of the stars were dazzling yet there was no way she could look away." I absolutely felt fondness how readers great great grandmother role was for being the first one in their family in being a healer; at that a woman. I really enjoyed this back story, woman are amazing 💙 what I noticed was both of them always had this love for the night sky and watching the stars, I found that so endearing 🥺🥺 it felt like a connection between the two.

An eternity. Seems like ages away but our perception of forever is but mere speck in our reality because to the people out there—living, laughing, loving, life is dazed and comes and goes in the blink of an eye but within the barriers, behind the unchanged days and the repetitious routine your eternity has exceeded the five years you’d been in here and it seemed roads away from where you stood in that moment." This description was everything, I had various feelings as I read this, this was quite a beautiful statement.

"The words bounced in your head, their kinetic force dented the delicate walls of your brain. You just played their predicament over and over in a continuous loop. You were alive, breathing but you were as good as dead." Each word felt punctuated as I kept reading, the feelings emitted through, such a great writer for writing expressively throughout I'm in awe.

"Was there such a place on earth where the heavens met its end? A place where you could climb up the stars as you would a ladder and swim amongst them forever." Gorgeous, its like reading my own internal thoughts through this that's conveyed in an elegant manner.

“I have never had the liberty to leave but I believe I’ll be but a faint memory.” 🥺🥺🥺

“Well they certainly bring life to the place.” the dried flowers 💐 that was sweet of Tae to like

Tae smiled so tenderly it felt as if you were floating on water—as if you were being swayed aimlessly on a body of water. Allowing the curvatures of his mouth to direct you as they pleased. It felt so refreshing having someone smile at you that way. You couldn’t quite get enough of it." There's something about the way this is expressed, its like a hidden expression that made me feel so warm. I genuinely felt the smile bringing warmth inside my body. Wow. I loved the description and Tae so much 💙

"Promise. The density of the word was far too great and while you wanted to believe Tae’s dulcet words, you knew that even if unintentionally he would forget about your existence the moment he left." This just... hit me, a mixture of hope with fantasy, a split between both.

“Perhaps I was in search of my princess.” AGAHSJSJA crying i absolutely loved his energy and wit that they both expressed throughout their meeting 🥺 this yae got me feeling so giddy and ugh I loved his character here!!

“So narcissistic,” you heard him gasp, “perhaps you are a descendent of royals after all.” hahha if only she knew

“every night as we lay under the same sky, let’s both count the stars until we finally get to reunite once more.” ugh this was so so cute and romantic.

“but that doesn’t mean you are forced to reciprocate something you cannot remember.” it felt so lovely to see how regardless of the time spent before, they both have this understanding and boundaries between the two .

“I cannot remember it,” he spoke barely above a whisper, “but I can feel the way my heart races when you come in my proximity. I felt it during our meeting. I feel it even now.”

"There were successions of shooting stars ornamenting the heavens and finally you reached the breath-taking place where the earth and the sky meet." What a alluring way to write something so profound yet stimulating. Wow. Loved this all seriously.

“We have a whole eternity for that darling.” 🥺🥺🥺

a years interlude | kth

kth x reader (f)

genre: 19th century; one-shot

rating: mature audiences only (18+)

summary: a story of pain, healing, love, and the yearning of the heart.

warnings: slight mention of blood; non-descriptive (brief) mention of dead fetus (lost baby at birth); memory loss; slight fluff; penetrative sex; cunnilingus; clitorial stimulation; nipple play; hand job; taehyung looking like a 19th century prince in his photofolio; if non-19th century things are mentioned i am so sorry, i tried to do as much research as possible but so many personal things went down while I was writing this that research was slim.

word count: 10,9 thousand words

posted: friday january 6, 2023

The Levate was your home. It had been assigned as your unruly fate far before you were even a fetus in your mother’s womb.

It was your destiny.

The tale commenced about two-hundred years prior, with your great grandmother. She was a mere lass—young, beautiful and most importantly educated girl. It was a rarity for its time. Initially, the men in her family, your family, were destined healers but your great grandmother’s father's bloodline was referred to as fragile and it was ‘cursed’ with just daughters.

One after another after another.

A couple of years passed before the men of the village realized that their people would only benefit in allowing the women of your family to become a part of the legacy and aid those in need. . Especially, the wives of the select few who were in need of assistance during childbirth, word had it women were growing uncomfortable in being presented with male assistance while they carried their babies for nearly nine months and then having inexperienced servants assisting during deliveries— numerous women left to neighboring villages which implemented the requirement of having qualified female only aids during their pregnancies and in their labor confinements.

After a rather hefty consensus the people of the town spoke and your family was granted their titles as former healers and reputable midwives.

Upon shadowing her nearly retired father and the accoucheuse from neighboring villages, your great grandmother learned the complexity of your modern medicament rapidly. She was very astute, stretching as far as the barriers of your society allowed her to reach. Truth was despite everything she was still a woman and was only allowed a speck of liberty—and one single mistake sent her down a bridle pathway of damnation for an eternity and her grave would be dug up by the Kim family.

The Kim’s were the most powerful family in the village, simulating the most vicious predators at the peak of the food chain. They were pythons while the rest of you were rodents. Their formidable force stemmed from their affluence leading them to soar like eagles in the expansive sky, high beyond the passing clouds—they were as close to royals as Hawkshead could attain.

Your great grandmother had been called on by Viscountess Kim to service in the delivery of what would be their fifth child. They were hoping for a male to supply as an eventual successor after being consecutively burdened by a string of daughters. The task was seemingly simple as she already had a hefty resume in delivering babies day in and day out but this particular delivery was. . arduous. The pressure was immense, she knew there was little room for error, and despite the dozen pound weight dragging from her shoulder, she graced her mind with confidence; the assurance of her skills and began her duty as a midwife.

Things began as usual, the dimly lit birth chamber was crowded by servants as they serviced Viscountess Kim any and all of her absurd requests ranging from kneading her feet beyond comfort to fetching her intricate suppers that could only be found a whole town away. The room was aromatized with the soft scents of chamomile, her remedy for easing the nerves. That was all she could provide but of course, medicine then, wasn’t what it is now.

Her duty was to sit and wait. And then sit and wait some more—until baby Kim has decided it was finally time to meet the world.

From her place at the delivery stool her eyes roamed across the unblemished midnight sky. There were innumerable stars prancing around the black vastness accompanying the moon as they danced a soft tango together. Nights were serene; peaceful and she always found herself enthralled in it. The twinkling seams of the stars were dazzling yet there was no way she could look away. Initially, there was a brief silence amongst the emergent storm sweeping across the dormitory, she recalled screaming; frantic screams. In the beginning they were muffled, so far away, for a brief second she had thought Lord Kim was chopping off someone's head down the corridor—except, it wasn’t.

Lady Kim was beginning to hyperventilate, she broke out in sweats, and the lady maids were flailing their arms in the air calling your attention, their attempt at getting her to snap out of her trance.

“We need help,” she’d heard from one of the many nameless figures accompanying the Viscountess.

“Just give me some space,” she abandoned her spot near the window now sitting at the foot of the bed, “fetch me more linens.”

She was heaving, trembling, gasping for air and her screams could likely be heard by the Levate. Her forehead glistened, “I need him out of me,” her breathing was heavy, “I need him out.”

There was a cold bead of sweat rolling down her back but she remained in her position waiting for baby Kim, (hopefully, a boy), to greet you with bright chocolate eyes and raucous cries. You instructed her to push, and she complied. Again, you communicated the same and she did as told. She pushed harder and harder, until the fetal head crowned.

She almost sighed with relief.

Almost.

But the room was eerily still.

Baby Kim, the baby boy, was now in her hands but he was not weeping—his eyes were closed, and his skin was a shade of periwinkle.

He was not breathing.

“How is my baby?” Lady Kim asked.

But she stood, completely still, the tiny body of what was supposed to be a healthy scion laid in her arms, unmoving.

“How is he?” She asked once again.

Your great grandmother’s skin glimmered in the dim candle light as the sweat trickled down her forehead. She quickly walked the boy to the baby bassinet and laid him down.

“Is he OK?” her pleas to know rumbled in the inner walls of your ears, and all you could do was rummage through your brain for an answer on what to do—this had never happened before. She’d always delivered healthy babies, always.

How could this happen? She had not pulled too hard, the mother seemed in good health. . What evil lurked in the shadows to drag this baby away from its mother before she even has the chance to hold him in her arms?

Lady Kim sat up on her elbows—her eyes were mimicking the sparkle of shining glass, she was shaking with anxiousness; fear.

“The baby-”she stammered, “h-he’s”

Words failed her. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth and no matter how she tried to structure the news, sentences did not come easy to her.

“He’s what?” the Viscountess yelled, her voice vibrating through the walls like a high pitched sound wave, “how is my baby boy?”

“Baby Kim has passed on, Lady Kim. My sincerest apologies,” She bowed as her voice cracked delivering the unfortunate news.

The viscountess’ wails were inconsolable, they were haunting and your great grandmother couldn’t help but hang her head in shame. Everything her father taught her was flushed down the drain, her career as a healer was compromised and her life was not guaranteed at the sake of her failure.

All her certainties hung by a single thread and her freedom disintegrated when a lock and chain adorned her wrists and soon as Viscount Kim heard of the unfortunate events surrounding the birth and death of his only son. He—they blamed her for the entire thing, despite her best interest always being the delivery of a healthy boy. They did not listen to her, instead they ostracized her and held a trial to supply her culpability. Her charges included, ‘conspiring against the noble Kim.’

You closed her journal up and slouched on your rickety rocking chair, swinging back and forth lightly.

That was all written by her.

She wrote it as an autobiography for the following generations to understand—it was a reminder of the story you didn’t need to read because you knew it by heart; you lived it; you simulated her pain.

After the verdict was delivered by the counsel, composed of those hand selected by the Kim family, for the proceedings of an unjust trial. They were ready to send your great grandmother to be executed. Hastily, they came to the realization that our family were the only healers in Hawkshead and the nearest family of honorable medicinal knowledge settled days away from our village, so instead of ending her life. . They decided to sentence her and the women to follow to be banished, and sent her on exile to the Levate.

So they walked her to the outskirts nearing the barrier of the viridescent enchanted forrest—she was to reside there and if her knowledge was ever requested they would seek out for her, but that was not her only duty, she was to assist all men injured in the Levate and guide them out the barrier in the direction of the village.

It was the punishment of imprisonment without the shackles, but at least in a cell you had cell mates, guards, people around you—there was nothing but emerald pasture and brobdingnagian trees for miles into the dense forest.

Her husband and son stayed behind in Hawkshead and they continued the legacy of male healers while the women in our family were condemned by her mistake. We were sent to fend for ourselves in the estranged surroundings of the Levate as soon as it was decided by the Kim counsel. A lot of them wed and snuck their husbands in and out of the forest but it wasn't in your intention to subject a man through the complications of the barrier but specially you did not plan to contribute a child into the damnation of this curse. Your predestined beginning and end was as it was, your inevitable demise. There was nothing you could do about it but your principles—your conscience wouldn’t allow you to drag someone else to be a subject of this morbid ordeal and while residing in the Levate was out of your reach; celibacy was the only aspect of your life you had control over.

It’s been a continuity of the same thing, day after day, the same sky up above, the same redundant emerald leaves on the same golden tree branches.

Everything was the same.

It was revolting and it sent you on a spiral of drumming headaches, the same four walls in this same cabin, and the same scenery outdoors.

Five years down, an eternity to go.

Though you were promised occasional outings of aid, not a single person back in the village has requested your healing abilities for months now and no one ever stumbles past the barriers unless absolutely necessary. You were completely alone, left to rot in abandonment—the Kim counsel knew that but you were certain the infliction of isolation was their specialty for torture.

Nightfall approached quicker than expected that day but you supposed it was the repercussions of being cocooned behind your probing thoughts for a clock’s worth. After dining and changing into your nightgown, you found yourself laying down on the creaky bedstead, you kept your window open becoming astounded by the luminosity of the night sky. The pale crescent moon shone like a bright pearl, and the blanket of winking stars stretched to infinity. Their soft glint mimicked the flickering candle light of your neighbors back at the village, and for a single moment. . you weren’t forgotten, they were just a door away keeping you company until you were finally able to drift off into a deep slumber.

“There’s word in town about the death of the Lord Kim,” There were two girls walking by the southeastern border of the Levate, close to where you currently kneeled picking berries.

Although you could not see their faces, the youth and naivety in their tone was indication enough that they were young, far too young to acknowledge the gravity of their claims.

Being in seclusion was a dead man’s curse because despite the exigency of claims floating around the forest’ border you could never truly confirm its legitimacy.

One of the girls hushed the other, and they began their soft whispers but you could still hear. They were to keep away from the barrier, you should’ve probably warned them but their gossip was far more interesting.

“How could you even know of this?” one of the girls questioned, you didn’t dare peek out from your place behind the bushes to see who they were. . just listened, “what business have you in the Kim estate?”

“For starters, they called on that knowledgeable nurse from Lockwick and the lady maids have been spreading word around town.”

“I suppose you’re right but how could we be certain? They all hide so discreetly behind those golden gates.”

“Process of elimination obviously,” —you’d admit this is the most intel you have eavesdropped on in the last one thousand eight hundred and twenty five days. They continued, “The Kim daughters are all married off, their son is off on a voyage and Lady Kim was seen in town just two days ago. Who is the only person we have failed to see for weeks?”

“I suppose you’re right,” she continued in a whispering voice, “that still is no proof of his passing. I think we should wait and keep this to ourselves if we don’t want to end up like that girl who was banished there.” They were probably pointing into the Levate and were certainly referring to you.

Is that all you were in the village? A fable? A tactic to scare kids into respecting their elders? Did anyone even know what happened?

You sat on the soil which likely stained your blush pink skirt—you couldn’t bring yourself to care however.

‘like that girl’

‘that girl’

The words bounced in your head, their kinetic force dented the delicate walls of your brain. You just played their predicament over and over in a continuous loop. You were alive, breathing but you were as good as dead.

Noone remembered you or your name or what you stood for. Noone knew who you were anymore. You felt like an ant on a planet of giants—so insignificant and useless.

Your only consultation lay beside Lord Kim, in his deathbed if he was even dead. Your hope is rooted, that with his passing, the abolishment of the previous ancient laws and regulations would be mandated. This could be the opportunity to get out of here for good, to leave Hawkshead and live for yourself. You had never wished for the cessation of anyone before but you sure hoped there was a stone with his name engraved on it somewhere, especially after the hand he’s dealt in the suffrage of the women in your family, especially after he held onto the grudge of his ancestors as if they were his own.

Your brain was still frazzled by the rumors of the young girls, still, you attempted to map out who the following Viscount would be to serve as a successor. You doubt any of their daughters would come back, they are all married into wealth far richer than the Kim’s could even dream of. There was their eldest son who was off on a voyage and no one had seen sight of him for the last 11 years. No one knew exactly who he was anymore or what he looked like for that matter.

If speculation was right and Lord Kim has passed—their mysterious son should be coming into town. Perhaps, you could try and arrange a meeting with him, and argue your case.

You could be free.

At last there was hope. The possibility of a future you actually had the chance of living.

You skipped the rest of the way to the cabin. Your feet felt lighter against the verdure path—a buoyant spark coursed through your blood stream, the current sent you floating in mid-air. Intoxicated off ecstasy at the mere grasp of the potential freedom you so desperately craved.

You stood near the barrier.

You were still in the Levate but there was a shift in the surroundings you were so accustomed to. Your initial thought was to run once and for all but your thoughts kept you grounded right where you stood.

Of course, you’ve thought about escaping but if the journals had taught you anything it was that running away would only lead to your demise.

All of your ancestors who disappeared. . turned up in a wooden box days after. You supposed freedom in the afterlife was much better than no freedom at all but you craved living and besides you couldn’t give the Kim’s the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

You couldn’t.

You breathed slowly as the figure on the other side stood facing you. Its face was blurred and the usual lines outlining one's eyes, nose and lips were consumed by irrefutable darkness.

“Who are you?” You yelled out. . No response, “what are you doing so near the barrier?”

It held its hand out—palm stretched out reaching for you; calling out for you.

“I cannot leave unless called for medical assistance purposes,” you stepped closer to the barrier. . definitely digging into treacherous territories, “this is my home.” The words tasted so sour on your tongue, because although you were forced into the Levate it certainly wasn’t a home.

It remained in the same position, you knew you should’ve been petrified but his demeanor was inviting, it called out to you. His vocal vibrations perforated right through the barrier and enchanted the soles of your feet leading you to inch closer and closer to it.

“I can’t. .” you mouthed.

You looked back into the thicket there was nothing left for you here.

One step closer.

The bottomless feeling of loneliness vanished and was replaced with optimism. You shouldn’t wait to go far away.

“I shouldn’t. .” you mumbled.

“Come to me,” you heard, the voice was monotone, displaying no real sense of emotion, “we must make haste.”

“No. . no. .” Your objections convinced no one at all, not even yourself—but your eyes were closed and you shook your head vigorously, “No. .” you chanted over and over.

The voice which was once louder than yours, sounded farther and farther away, its words became muffled and disintegrating in your head. Suddenly, there was a shift and his pleas to have you disobey the rules set upon your life became cries for help.

“Help,” it repeated once over.

“Shut up.” You screamed, finally opening your eyes, there was nothing but darkness. . and you were laying in bed.

You were just dreaming.

You sighed, relieved to learn that you were not on the brink of insanity. . a little deprived of formal human interaction but you weren’t entirely a lost cause yet. Perhaps, the whole thing was rooted from the lone thread which remained intact, the same one which was to eventually lead you right out of the Levate, if the Kim son was as merciful as he was rumored to be in the village back when you were younger.

You sat up on your bed, a cold bead of sweat traveled along your temples and once again you found yourself in solace within the night sky. It was peaceful, as usual, but you couldn’t help but wonder how far the sky stretched. Was there such a place on earth where the heavens met its end? A place where you could climb up the stars as you would a ladder and swim amongst them forever.

There was a whimper, initially, it was faint and you thought it came from a traveler on the pathway near the barrier. But the whines became louder and louder and they were followed with soft cries for help. Unfamiliar, to the one in your dream this voice sputtered much more emotion, whoever it belonged to, surely they were hurt.

You slid on your slippers and made kitten strides towards the front door of the cabin.

“Is there anyone here?”

You grabbed onto the door handle, before stopping for just a second to take a deep breath. After grabbing the lit up lantern from the nearby countertop you made your way out of the house.

“Where are you?” you called out once stepping off the last wooden staircase.

Realistically speaking, you were aware you should’ve armed yourself with a kitchen knife for protection—but you were steered by adrenaline almost; shaken with the possibility of your first patient in five years. Guzzled, with the idea of the presence of another human being on the premises.

“I’m on the left side of your lovely home.”

“Lovely. .” You scoffed, more like hell.

When you finally reached him, he was crushing your rose bush as he remained sprawled out on the ground.

“Are you in need of some assistance, sir?” You asked in the utmost innocent voice.

“Uh,” He groaned, “Yes. . yes please.”

“How did you end up past the barrier?”

“I came. .” he scratched the back of his head, his voice you noticed was grave, much lower than you could remember any man sounding like back in Hawkshead. It was soothing, and felt just as it does when the sun hits your skin on a hot summer day, “I can’t actually remember..”

“The barriers have that effect on people, especially those who were not cursed to be in here.”

“Cursed?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ll explain soon. How about I help you up and we can chat inside. I’m getting a bit cold out here.” You stretched for him to grab, he did, and you quickly led him to the safety of your home. You sat him on one of the dining room chairs and pulled the second one for you right beside him.

“Welcome to the Levate,” you placed the lantern on the table. The swaying of the candle’s flame reflected on his perfect fucking face.

Actually, was there anything more passionate than the word perfect? because if there was, it would still not be enough to describe the beauty of the man you’d just housed.

“The Levate.” He repeated, his expresso eyes glimmered under the flickering flame, they sparkled like the hundreds of bright friends you had found in the dead of night every dawn.

“Yes,” after washing your hands and gathering a bottle of whiskey, cloth bandages, tweezers, and a cold compress for his head you took a seat beside him

“Is this forest part of the village up ahead?”

“You remember Hawkshead?”

“Is that the village?”

You hummed.

“Vaguely.”

You placed the cotton cloth with ice against the bump on this forehead, “Is it ok if we remove this sleeve of your shirt?” You pointed at the bloodstained sleeve with the scattered holes which were likely a result of the thorns dug into his arm from your roses. He nodded, “does it hurt?”

He shook his head, “not really.”

“Can you remember your name?” You asked, slowly removing the shirt as to avoid more injury.

“Tae,” he winced. “All I remember is being called Tae.”

“Ok, Tae. .” you began, “This is going to pinch just a bit but you let me know if you want me to stop.”

Tae nodded. His arm had seven thorns adorning his honey-toned skin. “Do you remember anything about your family?”

“Not really,” You pulled out the first thorn and he winced, just six more to go, “I remember I have a mother and like 5 sisters but their names are blank. Is this normal here. . In the Levate?”

“Yes,” you pulled out two more, “It is. To on goers the Levate is a pause in time. This is the forest of abandonment—while in here your mind is on pause and all your memories are tampered by the forces casted upon the ambience.”

“So when I leave—”

“I have never had the liberty to leave but I believe I’ll be but a faint memory.”

“Are you stuck here?” You pulled out the remaining with little to no reaction from him.

You nodded. A faint smile was pressed upon your lips.

“I suppose I am.” After grabbing the whiskey and pouring some into a cloth you began dabing his wounds to prevent infection. His gaze was on you like a spell and while you tried to remain focused you couldn’t help the stutter in your movements as you began wrapping his arm up.

“What does that mean?”

“My great great grandmother made a very wealthy family in the village angry and ever since then the healing female descendents have been casted to an eternity of damnation here in the Levate. This is our home for the rest of our lives.” You looked right into his gleaming orbs in an attempt to hide the melancholiness in yours, his were soft; soulful; and you could easily map out the entire galaxy in them.

“Have you ever tried to just up and leave?”

“Others have tried but it didn't quite work out.”

“These people really hold onto grudges don’t they,” he shook his head.

“I guess it’s human nature.”

“What’s yours?” You stood to discard the supplies you had used to assist him. The ill-lit cabin was the worst reminder of what your human nature was; the Levate was too; your lineage; you were.

“To be alone.”

“And you believe that?”

“Doesn’t really matter what I believe because it is as it is. There’s nothing to change now and the only person who can is on voyages nowhere to be found.” Saying it out loud was unsparing—every time those hopeless words met your tympanum it added to the deeply rooted sentiment of wanting out, of searching for a better tomorrow.

“Who can?”

“Their son.”

“And he’s gone?”

You shrugged, “not dead just away from Hawkshead.”

He slouched back on the chair, lips spread widely in a yawn, his toned chest was exposed under the two torn buttons on his white top—he looked exhausted.

“Well this is the only home in the Levate but you are more than welcome to stay over as long as you like.” You offered.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, my tiny prison is your tiny prison.” You smiled.

“I love the decorative statements you’ve made here,” he unhurriedly scanned the cabin’s walls, taking it all in inch by inch, “especially this unique wall paper.”

“It’s sun dried flowers. . they were all dead.”

“Well they certainly bring life to the place.”

“Thanks.”

His smile was wide, so luminous it lit up the pathway back to the village even from here. “And where shall I divulge in my slumber? I require a lot of commodities, you know.”

��Of course, will a sleeping bag or a duvet do?”

“Duvet sounds lovely.”

“I’ll fetch that for you.”

Mornings were always your favorite time of the day. You awoke, read a few pages from your ancestors journals or medical books, prepared a pot of tea and fetched the daily nutritional offerings left for you by those in the village. It was a routine, one you have grown accustomed to, and embraced dearly because it reminded you that despite being shunned away you were still here. Alive. Breathing.

You rubbed sleep off your eyes and sat up on the bed.

“Good morning,” the voice was invasive and although you knew Tae was here, you just weren’t used to having anyone around.

“Good morning to you.” you reciprocated, “you seem to be doing well this morning.”

“It was but a couple of scratches.” His back was still turned to you as he scrambled around on top of the stove, “I’m much better. I really hope you weren’t expecting me off this early.”

“Honestly, I thought you would’ve ran out of here as soon as the sun emerged.”

“Why is that?”

“A lot of men flee from the burden of not knowing. Actually, no. . Nobody has ever stumbled amongst my gardens before. I assume they would all run for the hills.”

“Assumptions are not facts.” Tae handed you a piece of bread and a small cup of coffee, “I hope you do not mind me staying just for a bit though.”

“That is fine with me.” You deliver softly. The only burden weighing on your shoulders was getting used to being around Tae and then having to watch him cross that barrier to his regular life back in the village without the faintest memory of you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, taking a seat next to you on the bed.

You nodded, “I’m alright.”

“So. .” he rubbed his hands on his slacks, “What’s on the itinerary for the day?”

“Not much actually,” you laughed as you were reeled back into your pathetic life, “there are very few things to do in here.”

“Anything in particular you need to get done?”

“I need to go wash my clothes in the river.”

“I’ll come along.”

Upon making it to the river you landed at the usual spot on the river bank where a couple of boulders sat. You placed your basket on the ground and reached for the first item before smearing soap on it to slap, twist and rub the clothes against the rock.

You repeated the same for everything you brought over which was not necessarily a whole lot but you felt the need to distract yourself from being so indulged in Tae’s presence.

“So what are you going to do to arrange a meeting with this wealthy person to get you out of here?” He laid on the grass, his head touched your calf slightly and you swore you could feel the small sparks beginning to ignite as his dark hair tickled your skin.

“First, I have to see if he’s back in town.”

“And how would we know?”

You shrugged, “They’re pretty well known so I’m hoping word gets around and somehow makes it back to me.”

“That’s an absurd plan.” His protests were right but you really had no way of arranging for things to be executed in a better way.

“Well, Tae, that is the best I could come up with. There’s no other way.”

“Are you even being watched here?” He asked.

“I walked the perimeter of the Levate previously but I didn’t see anyone guarding it but all my previous ancestors who have attempted an escape have been killed shortly after leaving.” You twisted the cloth a bit harder against the hard surface.

“So they’re not caught leaving but instead on the road out of the village. I’m guessing they’ve been unlucky enough to encounter people who honor that wicked family.” Tae continued, “how many have tried to escape?”

“Two.”

“One’s a coincidence but I believe in a situation like this two might be intentional. I’m not sure I remember but there might be guards watching movement in and out of the village”

“Seems like it. . but I do not plan an escape. I wanna leave out of here honorably and to break this stupid curse once and for all. It needs to end with me.” You rubbed harsher and harsher.

“I promise I will remember you. I’ll help you get out of here,” he sat up and guided your chin towards him—your eyes met his once again. They were dark this time, almost black and you could tell he actually meant the words he said and even though you did not quite believe he had a say in remembering anything upon crossing the barrier you smiled either way. He believed in you and your hopes of getting out and that’s all that mattered.

“I’ll hold you to that.” You laughed playfully.

“You won’t have to wait long.” He held your hand and his thumb rubbed circles on your wrist, “I promise.”

Promise. The density of the word was far too great and while you wanted to believe Tae’s dulcet words, you knew that even if unintentionally he would forget about your existence the moment he left.

His heart was in the right place but you could not get your hopes up on empty promises.

You just had to find the Kim son.

“It’s really no trouble. I don’t want you knocking door to door back at the village asking about the girl living in the woods.”

“I’ll do it if I have to. You are not your ancestors’ mistakes. You deserve a chance at a life to live.” His touch was still soothing against you, it mimicked the softness of silk and you could maintain your fingers intertwined for an eternity. Funny enough in this situation an eternity did not seem long enough to have Tae holding you as he was.

“I’ll be here.” There was a flutter in your heart—something you’ve never felt before, “I would ask about you but your memory is impaired at the moment.”

“Yeah,” He scoffed, “I’m hoping I’m an only child and hopefully a succeeding prince.”

“A prince would never set foot in Hawkshead.”

“Perhaps I was in search of my princess.”

“In Hawkshead?” you shook your head, “again. . unrealistic.”

“Not entirely.” He laid back on the grass and closed his eyes, “It is no secret how desperate princes tend to be.”

“So now you are desperate?”

“Perhaps,” he shrugged.

“Perhaps—” you reiterated, “and what exactly is his desperateness dependent on?”

“The lady I would be searching for I guess.”

“I’m sure there are countless potential maidens to choose from back in Hawkshead.”

“Hawkshead?” He chuckled amusingly.

“Well, yes, that was your intentional destination. Was it not?” A breeze swept swiftly easing the haze raging in your head as a result of Tae’s words and the scorching mid-summer sun.

“Intentional?” he shrugged, “Sure. But I believe I ended up right where I needed to be.”

“You believe so?” You hummed.

“I know so.” Tae was confident and the certitude behind his words sent a shiver down your spinal cord—just twenty four hours with him and your heart began to pounce at your chest whenever his voice graced your ears. Your movements slowed and you felt breathless as if his being alone sucked the air right out of your lungs.

“The implications of this place are less than ideal don’t you think?” you resonated.

“You have lived it darling. Is the Levate substandard?”

“It is like a prison chamber,” you scrubbed the top in your hands so hard it felt like you were grating your palm on the boulder.

“Do you not believe yourself to be free?”

“I live the same days over and over again, Tae. There is no freedom within these borders.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

His being was alluring like one of those paintings your father kept in his study back home. The soft strokes of the emerald grass complimented the honey tone Tae seemed to have adopted for the duration of summer. Elegance augmented his features from his dark locks, to the soft smile curved at his face, to his attire.

He belonged in an art gallery.

He cleared his throat, “can I ask something?”

“Sure.”

“Is your love already promised to someone else once you leave this place?”

“No.” One word responses were not usually your forte but Taehyung’s question was rather surprising, although coming from the peak of his curiosity you expected nothing less, “why is that inquiry living in your head?”

“I wanted to decipher whether I would ever have a chance with you.”

“Perhaps, if it is written in the stars, we could meet back in Hawkshead and during courtship we could attend the balls in each other’ arms.”

“The balls are pretentious and congested with chaotic gestures of desperate daughters. . I want no distraction in my attempt to romance you,” he was a sweet talker, you had noticed, swatting the butterflies in your stomach was useless — you could already feel yourself colliding against him.

“In society we would not be granted the privacy you require. .” you shook your head, “do you want a forced marriage at the cost of your hands accidentally touching mine?”

“Not forced. . My willingness is voluntary.”

“You live inside the fantasy brick walls of your creative mind..”

“Are you saying you would mind?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Good. Now push over,” He kneeled beside you making your elbows grace each other ever so slightly. You weren’t sure if he did it on purpose or if he even felt what you did but your feet levitated into the stratosphere. His touch even unintentionally swept you right off your feet, “allow me to give you a hand.”

It’s been three days since Tae stumbled upon your rose bushes and sadly it was his last night here in the Levate. He was to cross the barrier early morning and embark on his quest to help you out of here. . if he even remembered.

You really hoped he did but there was no certainty and that very detail would gnaw at your anxiousness until you were given the chance to be face to face with him once again.

“What are you so deep in your head about?” Tae asked from his position on the floor.

“Many things.”

“What? Will you miss me?” He joked.

Yes. You wanted to shout out but you didn’t.

“Not one bit.”

“I don’t believe you,” you were sure there was probably a smug expression plastered on his face but you were too busy glancing out the window to verify, “your days were graced by my charm.”

“So narcissistic,” you heard him gasp, “perhaps you are a descendent of royals after all.”

“It is in my bloodstream.”

An ear-splitting silence fell between the two of you. You realized even just his company sufficed to provide you with warmth and comfort you needed.

“Have you ever tried to count how many stars look over us every night?” The vibrato of his whispered; grave utters bounced right off of the oak walls.

“That would be impossible.” The luminous points invaded the night sky as they did every other night. They were your faithful companions.

“Not at all,” slumber was catching up to him. You could hear it in the stammering, “every night as we lay under the same sky, let’s both count the stars until we finally get to reunite once more.”

“How would we know we are watching them at the same exact time?”

“Just trust your heart.”

“I know it’s selfish. .” you began, “but I wish you could stay for a bit longer.”

Tae did not respond, not vocally anyway. Instead, he turned in the direction of your bed from his place on the floor. His expression was tender, his cheeks were impaled by dimbles.

You would miss his company, and his eyes, and his smile, and the unspoken intimacy you felt dancing between the two of you. You wondered if he felt it as intensely as you did even in such a short time? You wouldn’t dare ask—but your heart was convinced he did, while your head remained on his departure the following morning. No matter how many times he promised, you were aware you would be a granule of sugar in a short three days of his abundant existence, one he would not be able to remember the moment he walked out on the other side.

You wanted to kiss him so badly. His lips were so inviting. . It would be your perfect departure from him.

But there was no use if he would not be able to recall any of it once he crossed over.

“I would stay with you forever,” he murmured.

You opened your eyes abruptly—but he was already fast asleep. Surely, you’d imagined it.

Surely.

“Lord Kim,” a voice sounded through the other side of the door, “are you decent?”

He hummed back groggily and almost immediately his doubled doors were pushed open. The Butler of the Kim estate, Hoseok, invaded his dormitory.

“I told you since I have come back, Hoseok,” he yawned, “you are more than welcome to refer to me as Taehyung.”

“Of course Sir,” he stumbled, “I mean, Taehyung.”

Taehyung sat up on the canopy bed surrounded by fine silk sheets. Ever since he was able to make it home after being missing, life in the Kim estate seemed like so much for just one person. It all did. This bed, his room, his new title as Viscount Kim ever since his father passed away twelve months prior.

Before making it to Hawkshead, Taehyung had gone missing for a period of three entire days, and although his mother had kept this information from him at the time, he managed to obtain the location from where he was found by staff in the manor after his mother passed just nine months ago.

They told him he had been laying down near the northern border of the Levate forest geared towards the entrance of the village.

Back then, he was coming back home to assist his mother with the funerary ceremony for his father—but after losing her as well just a few months after he was shackled to this place as he was officially the new and esteemed, Viscount Kim Taehyung III.

“I just wanted to announce that dinner would be served in about ten minutes, sir.” He did not make it a habit to correct Hoseok on the usage of anything but his name once again. For, he knew his father and ancestors before were rather stern with how they managed life around the home.

He knew his changes would take some getting used to.

“Would you like me to close the drapes, Sir?”

“No, Hoseok, they’re fine. I like to look at the night sky before falling fast asleep.”

“Very well, I’ll see downstairs in ten.” Hoseok walked towards the door and reached for the golden handle before opening it.

“Hoseok,” Taehyung called out, “the files that I requested a few days ago. Have they been fetched yet?”

“Yes sir, they’re bringing up the last of the few boxes and everything should be in the study right after dinner.”

“Thank you so much, Hoseok.”

Hoseok disappeared behind the mahogany door and Taehyung was left alone once again.

Just him and his thoughts.

And somehow they always brought him right back to those three days he couldn’t even precisely remember. The Levate was always known to be desolate; scary and unexplored. Those were the stories his parents always recounted as a warning for him to stay away but he could not help the feeling that there had been someone out there who took care of him.

But who could willingly reside in that creepy forest on the outskirts of the village?

Tae walked over to his bedroom window taking in the sights of the stars swimming amongst the late night sky. In the couple of minutes he stood by he counted hundreds of them. There was a sense of serenity in being able to witness their brightness, there was a bubbling urgency in him in wanting to assign a number to all of them, although it seemed impossible.

He would one day, though, and that was a promise he made to himself.

After scarcely getting through dinner as he did not have too much of an appetite, Taehyung invited Hoseok over to the study in an attempt to get through all of the documents he needed to before dawn.

Under the flickering flames of the candles around the room, Hoseok took the couch with one box while he sat in the leather chair behind your father’s desk with two more. The first few documents detailed finances, work affairs and where your father usually geared towards for business encounters. On the bottom of the first box there was a folder with a black stamp sealed in the top right corner, spelling the word, confidential in all capitals.

He quickly pulled out the folder and scattered the documents out in-front of him. It was a family tree with all of the female descendants circled in red ink for the last two-hundred years. There were two years listed under every single name, one for which they were banished and one for the date indicating they had passed away.

The most recent one showed the latest descent had been banished around six years prior.

Taehyung, flipped through a couple more pages in the document before landing on the agreement between the council, the Kim family and the first ancestor to have been banished.

Apparently, she had attempted to assist in the birth of a Kim ancestor hundreds of years ago who passed during the delivery and instead of public execution, they had sentenced her to banishment in the Levate. Although not stated in the original document they made a new regulation after her passing to imprison all the female descendants on her side of the family as a repercussion to avoid the death of any more babies in the village by the carelessness of their hands.

“This is absurd,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “come here, Hoseok. Did you know about this?”

Hoseok hovered over your shoulder as he began scanning the document, nodding slowly as if he wanted to lie instead but opting against it in the end.

“I found out when it was time for your father to banish the recent descendant six years ago,” he leaned on the dark walls of the room, “but your father wasn’t as understanding as you are. He threatened me and my family in exchange for my secrecy.”

“But he’s been gone for months, Hoseok.” Taehyung reasoned, he was mad that the butler had not brought it up at least once in the past few months, “You’ve had so many opportunities to bring it up to my attention.”

“I did not know many details, Sir,” his lips quivered and Taehyung could see the exasperation glooming over Hoseok, “All I know is the latest descendent was banished and only you have the power to bring it to the council for reconsideration as a Kim.”

Taehyung’s expression softened, “thank you for providing me with the details now. Would you please seek out the council and arrange for a meeting tomorrow afternoon?”

“Of course.”

“This is all for tonight. Please let me know of the meeting time and location come early morning. Good night, Hoseok.”

“Good night.”

The meeting was arranged in the Kim garden early afternoon and while you had discussed some pressing points the council held relating to your parents passing, it was time for you to bring your own concern to their attention.

Most of the original council has now been overtaken by an earlier generation for reasons similar to your own.

“Joon, I presume Hoseok mentioned the reason for the calling of today’s meeting.”

He nodded as he gobbled on yet another tea sandwich, “he provided a brief synopsis.”

Joon was the descendent of the original founder of the council and whatever he said went. He was far less serious and strict than his father was but Tae supposed they all were. None of them were their fathers.

“Why don’t you detail what you want to propose with a bit more clarity, Taehyung?” Yoongi cut-in as he noticed Namjoon was far too indulged in the delicacies table. Yoon was more of the straightforward kind of guy and had fought tirelessly to be kept out of the council but with the passing of his father he had no choice but to step in as the eldest Min son.

“This is regarding the descendants of the Levate. I wanted to propose an official release as the original document was altered after the first healer passed away.” you detailed, “it is not fair to continue the imprisonment of those women in that forest.”

“I agree,” Jimin cut-in. His family was known for being quite liberal and you figured the recorded vote against the sending of that woman to the Levate all of those years ago came from his ancestor.

“That’s 2-5, as I am obviously voting against keeping her there,” Tae said.

“I’m with them seems a bit cruel and unusual,” Seokjin conquered.

“Same.” Yoongi said.

He was the more traditional man of the bunch so it surprised you when Joon seemed to be the bearer of bad news.

“I also agree with your arguments but the only way out of banishment for the healer is marriage to a Kim descendent. It is stated in the original document that you should have read Tae.”

“Don’t ‘Tae’ me if you plan to enforce the rules of our beastly fathers.”

“I plan to do no such thing,” Joon quickly argued, “but we were sworn in to provide transparency to the people of Hawkshead. We are not royalty by any means but as founding families we do not and cannot sit above the mandates of those who came before us, for if we do, how can the people trust in us as the new replacing founders.”

“I’m afraid he’s right, Taehyung,” Seokjin was the voice of reason, “we cannot afford having the village against our judgments and decisions at this time.”

This is not what he originally planned for.

“With all due respect Tae,” Yoongi began, “How about we near the borders of the Levate and summon the descendent. From there we can propose the marriage proposal and see where she stands. If it is not an option for her she will unfortunately have to enter back into the Levate until we can seek a viable way to get her out.”

“It is settled, she does not need to be paying for reparations of an accident that took place years ago. Therefore, all in favor of the marriage proposition to lift banishment say I.” Joon was an honest man, and Taehyung was sure the pressures of being head of the founding council was a heavy-bearing occupation and though this wasn’t the conclusion he was hoping for—it was a start.

A wave of I’s circled around him.

He hesitated but ultimately caved as he saw no other way as of now, “I.”

Approaching the Levate was quite intimidating and it certainly did not help that Yoongi, Jimin, Seokjin and Namjoon had offered to accompany you on the trip to the initiation of a possible loveless marriage.

They stood near the carriage as he walked towards the barrier. The hairs on the back of his neck stood as a wind of familiarity immediately brushed past his face the closer he got.

Taehyung hoped this would not seem odd to you but he was trying his best to get you out of the Levate as soon as possible.

Taehyung saw her figure nearing the border of the green pasture and automatically noticed her smile beaming from ear to ear. She was as radiant as the flowers embedded in the wealthiest of gardens in the village, as dazzling as the sun and her aura was as familiar as the late-night stars he had begun conversing with ever since he made it back home earlier that year.

“Tae, you’re back,” her voice was silky and your name sounded like honey dripping from her lips, “you promised and now you’re back.”

He cleared your throat “I promised?”

“Sorry,” she began, “yes, some months ago you had stumbled into the Levate after being back from a voyage. After falling on my rose garden. I did a miniscule job of pulling out the thorns and you stayed about three days before heading off,” her recount of the events cleared the patches of missing information within your memory.

“Why can’t I remember any of that on my own?”

“The barrier of the Levate erases your memory as soon as you cross over,” her eyebrows were furrowed, “but if you cannot remember how come you are here?”

“My name is Kim Taehyung III, a descendent of the Hawshead founding families. After the recent passing of our fathers the replacement council made it our mission to overturn the cruel mandates set forth by our ancestors.”

“Yes, we discussed that while you were in here,” she said softly, “although, I did not know then that you were the person I needed to speak to.”

“Your case was the first to come to our attention, mine especially, as a Kim descendent. In the unofficial documents by the founders however there is a minor detail standing in the way of your immediate liberation.”

“What is the minor detail?”

“The only way of our banishment for your family is through marriage.” Taehyung said.

Her pupils were blown and her voice quivered, “who would I have to wed?”

“Me. Otherwise you would have to remain in the Levate until the council finds another way to get you out.”

The agreement of marriage came unexpectedly to you but in your time together she had recollections of only pleasant memories plus made you made him promise to drag you along on his explorations when he had to go off on voyages.

You craved to see the world.

Taehyung agreed and after the small wedding ceremony with the founding families bearing as witnesses. The two of you became husband and wife in the local church after your meeting a couple of days prior. Everything was geared on high speed and happened just a few weeks after your meeting with the proposition.

The two of you barely had any time to talk between the legality of documents and the preparations of the hurried marriage.

“Are we all alone?” you asked, flickering on the lights of the family room as you walked in the Kim estate.

“It is the beginning of the honeymoon traditions,” he informed, “the house is left vacant for the husband and wives and the next couple of days we get to ourselves before embarking on a voyage to visit extended family.”

“Is my family still around in Hawkshead?” you asked to take a seat on the couch, he followed sitting across from you.

“They live a boat ride over now but not far. They were granted leave by my father as the remaining siblings seemed to be brothers who were born just a couple of years ago.”

“I have brothers?”

“Twin brothers,” he confirmed, “we can go see them tomorrow if you would like.”

“Can we go later on in the week?”

“We shall go right before heading off to see mine early next week. How does that sound?”

“That sounds fine.”

He scratched the back of his head, “I forgot to thank you for your care back in the Levate. I am sorry I cannot remember anything about our time together.”

She shook her head, “it is not your fault my Lord. I was just happy I could assist, plus you made those three days the best of my time in the Levate.”

“You can just call me Taehyung if you would like.”

“Taehyung.” she repeated, “so it is true that the replacing founders are trying to implement structures of change to Hawkshead. They seem to be less austere and puritanical than their ancestors.”

He flashed a boxy smile in your direction, the one you missed so much over the past year, “I heard they are trying their hardest.”

“I am glad their compassion now graces the land,” you complimented, watching as his cheeks turned as red as the roses he had stumbled upon in your garden, “thank you Taehyung, for keeping your promise of getting me out of there.”

“No need to thank me. Unfortunately, my descendants were at fault for this entire ordeal. It is the least I could do.”

You gazed at the way his cherry lips were moisturized by his tongue. Perhaps, a nervous tic you had not quite picked up back in the Levate. Was he nervous? Replaying, the rather chaste kiss he left on your lips back at the altar and his clammy palms holding yours you deduced he was in fact nervous.

All you could ever think of however was his body heat in your proximity.

“It will forever be engraved in my heart that even after losing your memories of me after crossing the barrier, you still cared enough to get a stranger out of that situation,” you placed your hand on top of his.

“It was my basic duty after everything inflicted on your family all these years,” you noticed the change in his tone as he breathed out ruggedly, “please do not assume you owe me anything because of this. You do not.”

“I know you are a perfect gentleman, Taehyung but my heart beat for you the moment we met back in the Levate. What I feel is not forced or payment for your heroic antics,” his eyes remained on his lap and he seemed to be averting eye contact at all costs, “but that doesn’t mean you are forced to reciprocate something you cannot remember.”

“I cannot remember it,” he spoke barely above a whisper, “but I can feel the way my heart races when you come in my proximity. I felt it during our meeting. I feel it even now.”

The heat rose rapidly as you felt the way his eyes began mapping out your figure sprawled out on the couch. You figured it was a bit onerous though, as the wedding dress gifted to you wasn’t too flattering on your body. You made short strides towards him and stood in between his thighs, after unzipping the fabric you saw as it pooled at your feet exposing your inner-wear.

His carnal desires were reflective on the way his eyes scorched to a deep umber and his lower lip was blanketed under his teeth.

“Can I take you up to my suite?” The question sounded in your ears like a song being played delicately on the keys of pianos.

“Take me to your suite.”

Taehyung carried you bridal style sharing plenty of laughs at the countless trips and stumbles as he trotted up the stairs with you in his arms. You both finally made it to his massive sleeping chamber—it seemed a bit crazy how you were shoved into a tiny pocket of the Levate while Taehyung slept this lavishly every night.

You didn’t hold it against him but it was ironic how your worlds were destined to be so different and somehow clashed.

“Your house is so grand,” your eyes wandered through the different shades of blues adorning his room, “and to think you wanted to stay with me in the forest.”

“What?” he scoffed, “you do not see me as someone who can forage off the land?”

“You are far from the term, Kim Taehyung.”

“Assumptions are not facts,” he laid beside you on the bed and suddenly you were taken back to that morning in the Levate when he uttered those exact words.

“You have said those exact words to me before, you know.”

“My wisdom transcends the erasure of memories from a magical forest. You didn’t know?”

You giggled landing a soft punch on his elbow. “It seems I was not aware.”

“Now you are,” the tips of his fingers felt like waves of static shocks against your skin. He traced the outline of your chin, the nape of your neck, and collarbone before stopping where your cleavage began.

Your eyes were shut tightly as his cold touch continued exploring your searing body.

“Darling, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Taehyung, you have been the muse of my wildest dreams and the root of my deepest desires for the year following your leave,” you caressed his delicate cheeks with the back of your thumbs. He melted right into your touch, “I have longed for you and now I am finally here with you.”

“You waited for me?”

“Well realistically speaking,” you shrugged, “I had nowhere to go. My only option was to wait.”

He winked, “I will remember it my way.”

As a substitute to the small talk the both of you had engaged in to relieve some of the tension clinging to the air, you found yourselves leaning into each other at a leaden speed until finally your lips crashed into one another. His tender lips tasted of strawberries exactly as you imagined.

And the way his lips moved against yours was agonizingly mellow - and made you feel faint.

Who would have guessed being free could ever taste so sweet. . so fucking sweet.

The two of you were bare, crashing back into the ocean of his silk sheets. His wandering touch landed on your breast, while his kisses continued sweeping you off your feet. . his fingers focused on your nipple as he began rolling, pinching, and rubbing the sensitive bud.

“Taehyung. .” you breathed out.

“I’m just getting started,”

His pillowy lips trailed down your stomach leaving icy wet kisses on your skin leading you to succumb to the delicacy of his care. Your paradise you quickly realized was at the mercy of Taehyung’s ministrations.

The way he pecked your body so sweetly was intoxicating.

Just when you believed he reached his destination, he continued to travel lower and lower positioning himself between your thighs.

“Taehyung?” your eyes met his as he hovered over your arousal.

“Do you trust me darling?”

He propped your legs up on his shoulders. A yelp escaped your lips as your pussy was now placed right in front of his face.

Your heart began pounding against your chest blaringly - it became so potent you could almost hear its rhythmic beat against the shell of your ear.

“I trust you.”

The feeling was electrifying and beat through you like a bolt of lightning igniting a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach. His effects on you were lost in the darkness invading your surroundings; still he devoured you as if you were the last meal he’s been presented with.

His tongue licked and sucked your clit. Your breath hitched and all your voice could manage were incoherent babbles accompanied by the chanting of his name.

“Y-you are so good Taehyung.”

He hummed against your folds.

“So good, Taehyung.” You repeated, lacing your finger into his dark strands.

There were spurs of white light behind your eyelids as you became enthralled in the way he continued to move against you. The pleasure was addicting and you were afraid your longing wish was to have Taehyung on his knees every hour of every day and at every given moment.

“Please do not stop,” He continued, “please.”

There were successions of shooting stars ornamenting the heavens and finally you reached the breath-taking place where the earth and the sky meet.

Your heaven.

“You were so good darling,” he paused, “you took my breath away.”

His voice is now deeper than you remembered. A train of moonlight invaded his dormitory. Taehyung looked as stunning as ever, his hair is a disheveled mess, his lips adopted a deeper hue of scarlet while his features were inundated with his sweat.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Yes.”

The feeling was foreign and dissimilar to the feeling you had experienced hen his mouth ate you out, you felt full with him inside of you and although initially there was pain, the more you grew accustomed to it the more pleasure you felt.

His hips moved slowly in and out of you.

Your whimpers mixed with his groans was all that could be heard through the house.

Still, his agonizing pace remained, while his finger landed back on your clit as he traced the number eight repeatedly.

There was no falter in his movements, continued, and continued and continued once again.

Those shooting stars from before burst into beautiful displays of fireworks and for the second time that night you reached your high.

When Taehyung pulled out of you he was still hard, “I am going to head to the bathroom.”

You cut-in, “can I help?”

“Oh,” he moaned, “can you?”

“I want to.”

He sat at the foot of the mattress and patted the spot next to him for you to sit—you did.

“Use your hand. Is that ok with you darling?”

“Yes, can you guide me?”

“Of course.”

The tip of his cock disappeared behind your grasp while his balmy palms covered yours. He guided you down to the base and back up to the tip—the motion he set was swift and you could only ogle as Taehyung masterbated using your hand for release.

The thought made you wet all over again.

He whimpered, “I’m so close.”

His hand remained on top of yours but his motions were no longer leading, he was too engrossed in his own pleasure. You hastened the speed, now determined to help him feel as good as he made you feel.

His whispered moans only motivated your movements until finally his come covered your hand.

After disappearing for a couple of seconds Taehyung walked back from the wash room with a towel in hand, “sorry I didn’t warn you about this,” he wiped you all clean.

“I liked it,” you murmured, “I would like for you to teach me many more things.”

“We have a whole eternity for that darling.”

“Eternity. . That sounds nice.”

author’s note: this feels a but rushed in certain parts and I apologize for that but this story is been something that has taken way too long and I was truly just looking to put it out — hopefully it’s enjoyable though.

thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think <3

#i have pretty much compiled what i cherished in this AU. i have love for historical/time period works and this was a fascinating read #a very unique one at that which i enjoyed the backstory on. you wrote this pretty amazing with some modern vibe that i seemed to like #Tae was absolutely endearing sweet and so kind. i loved both characters that were played in this #the writing was a breath of fresh air you are unique with your approaches to stories and very impressive in your words #i somehow felt comforted by them too which shows you have a gift of expression #i loved their stay together and how much impact was made over a short days. esp being locked away; you'd crave for any form of escape #in a way which was tae but also he became readers freedom too 🥺💙#thank you for writing this bc it was probably a favourite read of mine. definitely.#i loved every word the poetical essence throughout. the great worldbuilding around the story #amazing wow #💙💙💙💙#apologies for the long message;if it was up to myself i would highlight every sentence as a favourite ✨#also the smut??? absolutely divine!!! i felt ways i haven't before that was everything #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #taehyun fanfic

416 notes · View notes