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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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5 times Merlin does something that requires a considerable amount of strength;

+1 time the gang has time to actually bring it up.

Everyone is baffled, half distracted by Merlin’s surprising buffness and half amused by Arthur’s gay panic:

The clearing fills with the sounds of a brutal fight.

The Knights of Camelot, along with their King, had given up on trying to figure out how bandits always managed to find them in the woods. It seemed impossible for there to be so many mercenary groups that it was just coincidence for them to stumble upon each other so often, but equally, the knights moved quietly and always covered their tracks well, so... yeah, who knows.

The point is, they’re outnumbered three to one, and all of them were starting to regret not listening to Merlin’s earlier suggestion that they keep riding for another hour or so; their camp was destroyed and the fight was tiring them out.

Three to one weren’t bad odds, especially for knights with such a high level of skill, but it was exhausting and time consuming and they just wanted it to be over. Merlin was having similar thoughts as he stumbles through the middle of the crowd, trying to get out of the way. He was keeping an eye on them of course, but his friends were winning so his magical intervention wasn’t really needed; he was just annoyed that Arthur was almost certainly going to make him clear everything up afterwards.

His attention is suddenly caught when Percival’s voice rings out across the clearing:

“Merlin! Behind you!”

All of the knights’ gazes whip to the servant when they hear the giant’s yell, and they all abandon their own battles to step towards him despite knowing that they were too far away to be able to help in time. The servant takes in a sharp breath at Percival’s warning, becoming suddenly aware of a fast-moving presence behind him; he forms a fist and turns, swinging blindly with all his strength and following through even when his knuckles crunch with surprising accuracy against the temple of a bandit.

The man, not expecting the rapid attack, doesn’t have time to move out of the way, and his head jerks to the side, his entire body following as if an afterthought. He crumples to the floor gracelessly, unconscious before his head makes contact with the trampled undergrowth.

Merlin hisses at the pain bursting through his knuckles and up into his wrist, shaking his hand out as he steps over the bandit’s still form without even blinking, back to focusing on attempting to find a tree to sit behind and sulk, as if nothing had happened.

The knights only have a fraction of a second to freeze in shock before they’re dragged back to their own fights, forced to defend themselves lest they get skewered.

The battle only lasts a few more minutes; despite being outnumbered, the knights far outmatch the bandits in skill (and sufficient armour) and Merlin was correct in his assumption that they wouldn’t need any of his DIY luck, which is a good thing really, considering how much his hand is throbbing. He peeks his head around the tree when things go suspiciously quiet, getting up and making his way to the abandoned bag of medical supplies when he sees the knights victorious.

The servant runs a quick gaze over them, taking stock of any potential injuries as he makes his way through the clearing, injured hand clenched tightly and held to his chest. He may have knocked the bandit out, but that just meant that the punch was hard enough to do damage to his hand as well as the other guy’s head. When he finds nothing more than the odd bruise on the others, he grabs a roll of bandages for himself, quickly wrapping his hand almost painfully tight, before turning to Arthur with a scowl:

“I told you we were too close to the road, I told you we should’ve kept on going. But do you ever listen to me? No, because you’re-”

He’s cut off by The King stepping towards him and taking his bandaged hand, cradling it gently and looking to Merlin in concern:

“Merlin, are you alright?”

Merlin just rolls his eyes and huffs, snatching his hand back and retreating to check on the horses, thankfully tied and uninjured at the edge of the clearing:

“No, my hand fucking hurts, because, surprisingly enough, these idiots have skulls almost as thick as yours. We need to move camps, like I said earlier. Prat.”

Arthur frowns, looking down to Merlin’s unconscious bandit at his feet, and then glancing back to the other knights, who all just shrug with wide eyes. The King sighs, reluctantly nodding at Merlin’s assertion as he stares up at the darkening sky, deciding that Merlin must’ve... hit a pressure point or... something:

“Everyone pack up, I want to be moving on in three minutes.”

Merlin had foregone his jacket and rolled his sleeves up in the surprising Spring heatwave.

Which was a sight in itself.

But what really made the knights look twice (I mean... Arthur was just outright staring, but Leon had long since glared the others into not mentioning The King’s little... crush) was the way the supposedly wimpy servant had two sets of chainmail folded on one shoulder, his arm curled over them to keep them balanced, and a few odd bits of mismatched armour clutched in his other hand. He was making his way from the training field up to the castle, presumably to find an empty room to sit quietly and clean them.

Elyan waves at him across the field, the movement just about catching the servant’s gaze as he twists around, flashing a bright, sunny grin in place of waving back.

Arthur gulps, eyes drawn to the vein standing out from Merlin’s uncovered neck; apparently the heat had encouraged him to abandon his neckerchief as well. The King takes a deep breath, sending a scowl Merlin’s way to cover his... surprise, holding in a smirk when the servant just rolls his eyes and turns back to the castle.

His stride was strong, and though his arms were straining against the weight, he looked entirely unbothered, not even breathing deeply as he picks up his pace, jogging up the citadel steps.

Training had all but stopped at this point, the roundtable knights staring in confusion as Merlin carefully pulled the door open, making sure he wouldn’t drop anything, before nudging the door shut again with his hip. Gwaine was the first to break the silence, quirking one of his eyebrows up as he speaks in a slightly surprised tone:

“Didn’t know he had it in him. Wearing one set, when the weight is evenly distributed, is hard enough, let alone carrying two sets. And armour. Up steps. Huh.”

Arthur clears his throat, looking away with a slight blush as he asserts:

“Yes, well, knights carry the same weight in armour and weapons everyday, if not more. If you’re that impressed Sir Gwaine, perhaps you should work on your strength.”

Gwaine turns to him with a smirk, but Leon’s warning glare stops him from teasing, or saying anything else that could be considered treasonous. Instead, he rolls his eyes at the first knight before humming non-committedly and pointing his sword at The King:

“That, Princess, sounds like a challenge.”

Arthur, blush forgotten, looks up with raised eyebrows and a chuckle, noting with satisfaction the way the other knights spread out to form a circle around the two of them, swords lowered and expectant looks on their faces:

“Does it now? I suppose you’ll have to take me up on it then, won’t you?”

The knights were on some stupid (in Merlin’s opinion) quest.

The group was currently making their way through a complicated cave system. They had maps, thankfully, but they were old, and provided by a small village of locals who hadn’t spoken common very well.

They’d had to trade away half of their supplies in return for the maps, so Arthur was already in a foul mood, but a dotted line on the page across the path they were following was worrying him. The note written next to it was in some old, almost lost native language, so The King had just resigned himself to carrying on and hoping for the best.

Which is why he let out a series of echoing curse words when they turned a corner to find a ragged overhang, about eight feet above the path. The wall curved in on itself before jutting out again at the top, making it impossible to climb, even without armour and swords and packs.

Elyan is the first to break the tense silence after Arthur’s outburst, his tone half amused, half annoyed, as he mutters:

“That’ll be why the locals kept pointing at that ladder then.”

Arthur huffs, glaring at the knight with a rare venom, but Leon gestures to the map in his hand before he can retort:

“We can always go back, or is there another way around?”

Arthur huffs louder, letting out a short growl as he thrusts the maps to Leon’s chest and paces closer to the overhang:

“Feel free, if you can find an alternative route, please, enlighten me. The village is a day’s journey away, we don’t have time to go back.”

Leon covers his annoyance at Arthur’s harshness well, but Merlin scowls at The King openly before moving to stand at the junction between the wall of the corridor, and the overhang in front of them:

“Don’t be an arse, Arthur, it’s not Leon’s fault that none of us can understand Old... whatever it was. And it’s not that high, just-”

With that, Merlin braces his foot against the wall, bending his knees slightly before pushing off and jumping up, reaching out and grabbing the overhang, his feet dangling off the ground. The knights stare in shock, but before they can say anything, Merlin swings his feet forwards, and backwards, and forwards again. When they swing back for the second time, he uses the momentum to pull himself up, his arms locking out straight beneath him as he lifts his knees up, crawling over the edge and onto the floor above them.

Arthur blinks, looking from the floor, to the wall, and up to Merlin again, trying to figure out how the hell his manservant had enough strength in his arms and core to pull himself up; he hadn’t even taken his pack off.

Lancelot clears his throat, tilting his head and frowning as he slowly speaks:

“That was... impressive. But we’re wearing armour, Merlin, I don’t think we’ll be able to manage that with all the extra weight.”

No one mentions that they don’t think they could do it even without armour.

Merlin just rolls his eyes and sits on the edge, his feet dangling below him as he gestures vaguely:

“Well if you just get your hands on the ledge then I can pull you up. Take your packs off and throw them up first if you’re so worried, you can give each other a hand up, and Percival can go last because of how tall he is. Come on, it wasn’t that hard.”

Lancelot shrugs, taking his pack off and throwing it up with all his might. Merlin leans out, catching it with ease and chucking it behind him as he motions Percival to interlock his hands. The knight does so, allowing Lancelot to step on them and throw himself up, just about managing to catch the ledge and groaning at the strain in his arms. Merlin brings his feet back over the overhang, bracing his heels against the stone as he reaches down, gripping Lancelot’s wrists and hauling him up and over the edge.

Lance yelps as Merlin yanks him up, rolling onto his back and panting at the ceiling as he blinks in surprise. Merlin doesn’t pay him any attention, frowning down at the others and gesturing at them to hurry:

“Come on, I thought we were in a rush?”

With that, they all huddle below, taking turns to be thrown up and hauled over the edge. Merlin drags Elyan up on his own, Lance still recovering from his slight shock, but the more people gather at the top, the less work Merlin has to do. Which is good, because he may be strong, but he’s not sure he could manage Percival on his own. The giant has to take a running leap at the ledge, and it takes four of them to pull him up without dislocating any shoulders or throwing out any backs.

When they’re all successfully at the top, Merlin wordlessly picks his pack up, shrugging it onto his shoulders as he begins a quick pace along the corridor as if he hadn’t a care in the world; the knights break out of their stupors and jog to catch up, knowing that Merlin was right and they needed to hurry.

Arthur was glaring resolutely at the floor, trying to psych himself up to confront whatever arsehole had managed to get the drop on him and his six best knights. The others were arguing in whispers around him, trying to figure out some way to escape the dungeon unscathed, though The King kept silent, knowing that the only way out was if someone unlocked these infernal chains first.

They’d only been there for around an hour, so no one from Camelot would have realised they were missing yet; their only hope was that Merlin was making his way back to the city to get help. He’d been off gathering firewood, and he’d already been gone half a candle mark when they’d been ambushed; Arthur would never admit it, but he had faith that Merlin would be able to sort everything out.

The King harshly shushes the knights as he hears the guards begin to yell, but frowns in confusion when he hears “They’re going crazy up there!” and “What the fuck?!” before the unmistakable sound of armoured boots running up the stairs and away from the dungeons reaches them.

The knights all look to each other in confusion, straining against their chains to try and see through the small barred window at the top of the door. A shadow passes through the square of light on the floor, and they all shuffle back against the wall, staying silent. None of them manage to hold in their surprised yelps however, when the door suddenly bursts in, the wood around the lock splintering violently and spreading shards across the dungeon floor.

A strong arm extends out, stopping the now broken beyond repair door from swinging shut again, and the knights look up, taking in sharp gasps when they see Merlin stood there, scowling disapprovingly with a ring of keys in his other hand and one foot in front of the other, as if he had... as if he had kicked the door. Leon is the first to break the silence:

“Merlin?? What are you doing here?”

Merlin’s scowl deepens as he glances down the corridor before stepping into the dungeon, sorting through the keys to try and figure out which one would open which set of chains:

“Well I’m rescuing you lot, obviously. I leave camp for barely a candle-mark and you get yourselves kidnapped. Honestly, how hard is it to not find trouble, for once?”

Arthur is too busy staring at Merlin’s apparently muscled legs to say anything, even when Elyan clears his throat and kicks him, so Percival is the next to speak as Merlin unlocks his chains:

“Why not just... unlock the door?”

Merlin doesn’t look at the largest of the knights as he moves on to the others, unchaining them one by one as he responds, his scowl still firmly in place:

“The key was on a separate ring and I only had time to grab one, figured the door would be easier to break than the chains.”

Arthur finally blinks and shakes his head free of.... distracting, thoughts as Merlin finally turns to him, holding his hands out to be unchained as he clears his throat and says strongly, forcing the waiver from his voice:

“How did you distract the guards?”

Merlin finally smiles at that, standing and reaching into his pocket to pull out a lumpy looking bit of plant:

“Snuck in and pretended to be one of their slaves, laced all the jugs with mandrake root. They’re all going loopy with hallucinations upstairs, a few of them vomited and I think one guy might have shit himself. The guards went to see what was wrong, so we don’t have much time, come on.”

Arthur nods impressed, and was the last of the group to sneak from the dungeon, pausing briefly to run a hand over the splintered wood and warped metal of the kicked-in door, before shaking his head and following the others out of the not-quite-abandoned fort.

It had been almost a year since Merlin had last seen his mother, so when the servant requested two weeks off to visit home, wanting to help the village out with repairs before the winter set in, Arthur agreed immediately, on the condition that he and a couple of the knights could tag along.

Merlin reluctantly gave in, but only after insisting that he wouldn’t be Arthur’s servant, and whoever came would have to dig in and help out. To be honest, Arthur was mentally exhausted after months of work on repealing the magic ban, so Merlin was silently grateful that he was coming; The King needed a break, and Merlin knew how secretly fond the man was of Merlin’s mother, and her simple country life.

In the end, Leon and Mordred were the only ones who could come; Lancelot and Elyan were left in charge of patrols, Percival and Gwaine were left in charge of training, and Guinevere, Gaius, and Morgana were left to oversee the council and the general running of the Kingdom. Arthur wasn’t worried to be honest, they were only going to be gone for two weeks, and if disaster set in they were only a two day’s ride away at most.

It was chilly, the winter was setting in early so Merlin and Hunith were eager for work to start as soon as possible. There were numerous leaks and fences to fix, and one of the village’s barns needed clearing out so it could filled with grain over the snowy season.

That, and as much firewood needed to be collected as possible so they could stockpile. They normally barely had enough to last them through the winter; Arthur had nodded in approval when Merlin had meekly asked if they could take a cart of wood with them from Camelot, but they still had a lot to gather.

It was the afternoon of their first day, Leon had been sent to a neighbour’s to fix a roof, Merlin was doing something outside, and Mordred was just about to head over to one of the livestock pastures to strengthen a few of the fences. Hunith was preparing the evening’s meal and Arthur stood politely in the doorway as he spoke:

“Merlin said that firewood had to be gathered? I can get started on that if you can point me in the right direction.”

Hunith smiles over her shoulder briefly, and Arthur ignores the warm fuzziness in his stomach at the sight as she speaks:

“Oh don’t worry about that, we’ve only one axe in the village and Merlin is out by the barn chopping wood now. I know there’s a leak somewhere in the basement of the village hall, a few of the boys are already down there if you’re looking for something to do?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Hunith’s insistence that Merlin, his lanky manservant, was outside with an axe chopping wood, and he glances at Mordred over his shoulder, who just shrugs, nodding to Hunith’s turned back. The King responds quietly, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice:

“Hmm. I’ll go check in with Merlin and then head down to the hall, if he doesn’t need help.”

Hunith hums in agreement, but otherwise doesn’t reply, mumbling under her breath about herbs and measurements as she stirs something into the pot. Arthur smirks at Mordred and the two of them head out, neither mentioning how Mordred was following Arthur to find Merlin instead of getting to the fences.

They walk in silence, though they both freeze on the spot when they turn a corner to see Merlin, once again with his sleeves rolled up, hefting around a huge lump of wood, a ginormous axe resting on his shoulder. He gets the wood where he wants it, stepping back and wiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead before lifting the axe and swinging it down again. The stump splits easily beneath the sharpened metal, and Merlin wastes no time in repositioning the new pieces of wood, ready to be chopped again.

Arthur doesn’t even realise his mouth is hanging open until Mordred looks at him and smirks, biting his lip before giving in and snorting quietly:

“You’re the colour of our capes, Sire, and you might want to shut your mouth. Don’t want to catch flies, do you?”

Arthur’s jaw snaps shut with a clack, and he frowns as his teeth begin to ache. Mordred chuckles slightly and though Arthur is grateful that the young knight is finally comfortable enough to joke around with him, he desperately wishes he wasn’t at Gwaine’s level of comfort.

Instead of retorting, Arthur just clears his throat and turns around, striding towards the village hall:

“It appears he’s got things handled. Those fences won’t fix themselves, Sir Mordred.”

Mordred only just manages to hold in his giggle, looking up to see Merlin staring confusedly at him and Arthur’s rapidly retreating back. He waves briefly, sending a quick “I’ll tell you later.” over their mental link before turning himself and heading in the direction of the pastures.

He knows full well that he has no intention of telling Merlin about Arthur’s crush; watching them tiptoe around each other was the funniest thing ever, and he didn’t want to ruin the bet that Gwaine had going.

+1)

The fight was vicious, more so than any of the skirmishes the knights had dealt with in the last several months.

They were vastly outnumbered, and the addition of four powerful sorcerers to the enemy ranks meant that Merlin and Mordred were quickly running out of energy, having to focus on both the magical aspect of the fight, and trying to keep everyone else alive.

The metallic scent of blood was almost overwhelming, and the constant clang of metal on metal mixed with the whooshing echoes of sorcerous fire and vines was deafening. The fight went on a lot longer than Merlin had thought it would; the enemy was clearly more skilled than predicted, but the Camelot knights did prevail eventually, Percival ending the fight with the smooth slice of his blade across the last mercenary’s throat.

Merlin wastes no time in running his gaze over the knights, giving special attention to Arthur as he searches for any injuries that need seeing to immediately. The last of the sorcerers had managed to escape, so they needed to get out of there as soon as possible: there’s no way they’d survive a second attack if he came back with reinforcements.

Merlin was relieved to see nothing too serious; Lancelot had a gash on his temple that would need a thorough cleaning and a few stitches, and Gwaine was holding his wrist to his chest in a way that told Merlin it was likely broken, but everyone was on their feet and no one was crying. That’s a good start.

Merlin relaxes, but his shoulders quickly tense again as Mordred’s voice echoes weakly through his head:

“Emrys... I’m... I’m tired...”

Merlin whips around quickly, his eyes wide and panicked as his frantic gaze lands on the young knight. He’s leaning against a tree, his eyes hooded and focused on the floor. Merlin leaps towards him, catching him just before his head lands harshly on a boulder, and pulling the collapsed younger man into a more comfortable position as Arthur rushes over:

“What’s wrong with him? I don’t see any blood, was he hit with magic?”

Merlin waves him off, checking Mordred’s pulse and breathing before he relaxes again, sending a tired, but relieved smile up to The King:

“He’s fine, just exhausted. This is the first time he’s used this much magic in years, he’ll need a little while to recover his strength, but we need to get out of here in case they come back.”

Arthur lets out a relieved sigh and nods, leaning down to take one of Mordred’s arms and waving Gwaine over to pick his legs up, but before either of them get even close, Merlin stands up, dragging Mordred with him and settling the armoured knight across his shoulders. He looks to Arthur next to him, not seeming to notice The King’s shock as he quickly says:

“I know you’re The King and all, but would you mind carrying my bag?”

Arthur nods dumbly, picking up Merlin’s dropped medical bag without taking his gaze off the Warlock, who wanders around double checking that the other knights were ok and that all the bandits were dead as if he didn’t have about 240 pounds of man and armour dangling from his shoulders.

Leon catches Arthur’s eye, nodding pointedly towards the path they needed to take, trying to pull Arthur back into the present before the others notice him gawping. Arthur gulps, blushing as he nods his thanks and moves away from the battlefield, Merlin’s bag secured on his shoulders as he confidently speaks:

“Merlin’s right, we need to get as far away from here as we can. I saw a cave about two hours’ back North, we can make camp there before heading back to Camelot in the morning. Gather as much as you can carry, we’ve no hope of finding the horses before nightfall, hopefully they can make their own way home.”

The knights all nod, following Arthur’s lead as he steps carefully through the underbrush, trying not leave any obvious pointers to their direction. He keeps his gaze resolutely ahead as he hears Percival ask:

“You alright, Merlin? Sure you don’t want a hand?”

Despite keeping his gaze stubbornly forward, Arthur strains his ears to hear Merlin’s response, refusing to acknowledge the sudden weakness in his knees at what the Warlock replies with:

“Nah, it’s fine, he’s not that heavy.”

Leon subtly sidles up to walk next to The King, glancing behind him before leaning in close, talking quietly as they moved:

“Perhaps you should... let him know of you affections, Sire?”

Arthur’s blushing gaze quickly finds the older knight’s before he looks away again:

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying, Sir Leon.”

Leon just raises his eyebrow in an unusual display of amused defiance:

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur. He’s been by your side for ten years, you’ve been through the unspeakable, both with each other and for each other. That, and he has a surprisingly... admirable physique.-”

Arthur’s blush deepens and he clears his throat, crossing his arms petulantly and staring resolutely ahead. Leon puts a hand on The young King’s shoulder as he continues:

“-You’re...-”

The knight sighs and bites his lip again, debating with himself over whether he should say it or not:

“-you’re head over heels for him, Sire, perhaps it’s time to do something about it? Gods know he feels the same, and the Gods also know that he’ll never make the first move. He’s still... nervous, about messing things up, I think. His-”

Leon glances over his shoulder again to make sure no one could hear him before dropping his voice to a whisper:

“-his magic being outed put him... on edge, even after all these months. He won’t do anything that he think could push you away or anger you.”

Arthur sighs and nods, before turning to him slowly with an embarrassed scowl on his face; he doesn’t shrug off Leon’s hand, which the knight takes as a good sign:

“Not a word to anyone, Leon, I swear to the Gods.”

Leon holds his hand up and uses his other to wave a cross over his heart:

“I swear, Sire. Though I feel the need to tell you that... at least three of the other servants, and I do believe Lady Bronwyn and Sir Galahad, also have... uh... their eyes on him, as it were.”

Arthur’s scowl gets impossibly deeper as he huffs, muttering to himself:

“They do, do they? Well, we’ll see about that.”

Leon just smirks again and rolls his eyes fondly before falling back to walk with Elyan.

They finally make it back to the cave, though it took them even longer without horses. Merlin had requested they stop around a candle mark in so he could remove some of the heavier bits of Mordred’s armour, passing them off to the other knights, but he had once again rejected any offers of help, saying that he was slowly siphoning his own magic into Mordred so he would wake sooner. Apparently they needed to be touching for that to happen, and though Merlin had been teaching them, none of them had enough knowledge on magic to know whether that was true or not, but they did know that Merlin was incredibly protective of the young Druid, so they let it be.

A fire was lit quickly and supplies were laid out. A map had been saved, thankfully, so they could figure out roughly where they were and how long it would take them to get back home as Merlin quickly treated Lance’s gash and Gwaine’s wrist.

Mordred begins to stir just as Percival serves up food, groaning slightly and rubbing at his eyes before struggling to sit himself up. Merlin had rushed to his side as soon as he felt the Druid begin to wake, and helps prop him up against the cave wall, handing him a water-skin as he stares at him with concern. Mordred takes a long drink, nodding his thanks and clearing his throat before speaking, his voice gravelly and slow:

“This... this is the cave we passed a few hours ago...”

His voice trails off, and Arthur answers the question in his tone:

“Hmm. We had no horses, so we were never going to make it back to the city, but we couldn’t stay where we were.”

Mordred nods, yawning widely and rubbing his eyes again as he asks:

“How did you get me this far without horses?”

Arthur clenches his jaw, blushing slightly as he looks away, but thankfully Gwaine butts in, answering with a grin on his face before anyone notices The King’s flush:

“Merlin here is stronger than he looks. Carried you the whole way, didn’t use magic or anything.”

Mordred turns his incredulous gaze to Merlin and he just shrugs absentmindedly:

“You don’t weigh that much, it was fairly easy.”

Elyan laughs and shakes his head, joining in on the conversation quickly:

“Are you kidding me? I mean... sure, I could’ve carried him for maybe an hour, if I was at full strength and it was easy terrain. You carried him for three, only took his armour off in the second hour, down what could barely be classified as a path, in a barely tamed forest, after a pretty hefty fight. That’s... impressive.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, looking around the room in bafflement as he realises that everyone is staring at him with varying levels of impressed confusion:

“You guys... you guys know that I grew up in the country, right? I spent my childhood climbing trees and running away from predators, and my teenage years chopping wood, building things with barely any help, and fighting the odd bear. I then arrive in Camelot, only to immediately be given a job that involves carrying a shit ton of heavy stuff, including, but not limited to: armour, luggage, hunting equipment, and the occasional unconscious idiot.”

Arthur sits up straight and scowls slightly when Merlin gestures to him instead of Mordred:

“You have never had to carry me anywhere.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, gaze sinking to the floor as he smirks and coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like “Sophia”.

Arthur’s blush deepens and he jabs an accusing finger in Merlin’s direction:

“That. Didn’t. Happen.”

Merlin bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, but his dimples still show through despite his best effort and he holds his hands up in surrender:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur just clenches his jaw and sits back against the wall with eyes focused on his food and cheeks red, stubbornly ignoring the knights’ curious stares as everyone eats their food. Merlin fusses over Mordred for a few more minutes but is quickly waved away by the younger man; the Warlock huffs and rolls his eyes, but gives in to the fact that Mordred did not need, nor want, to be babied. He moves subtly around the cave to sit down next to Arthur, barely a foot of air between them despite the abundance of space elsewhere.

Arthur forces his blush down at Merlin’s proximity, refusing to think of anything but his food and the difficult journey home, desperately keeping his gaze on his meal instead of Merlin’s strong legs stretched out next to him.

The King doesn’t acknowledge him, but doesn’t move away either, which Merlin takes as a good sign as he settles in, wrapping himself in a blanket to protect his body from the impending cold.

The other knights have long since finished their meals, scarping the lot in a matter of seconds in an attempt to gain back a little energy after the hours of riding and fighting and walking; they quickly settle into the blankets and cloaks and bedrolls they had managed to carry, though Leon seems to deliberately move slower, waiting for Arthur to glance up at him so he can give a pointed look to Merlin, just finishing his food, before laying down and attempting to sleep.

Arthur blushes with wide eyes, but Leon turns around before he has time to glare at him, and The King huffs quietly, risking a glance to a shivering Merlin next to him. He quickly frowns, not moving his gaze away like he had intended to, instead whispering softly:

“Cold? Can’t you use magic to warm up?”

Merlin looks to him tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall as his eyelids droop slightly:

“Hmm. I gave most of my reserves to Mordred, he was worse off than I first thought so he needed a lot more magic than I realised to keep him alive long enough for his energy to build up again.-”

Arthur widens his eyes at the fact that he was so close to losing one of his knights, but then shakes his head, huffing as he glares at the Warlock disapprovingly, but Merlin closes his eyes and continues before he can get told off:

“-I’ll be fine by morning, I just need-”

He’s interrupted when his body is wracked by a particularly strong shiver:

“-I just need some sleep.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, shuffling into a more comfortable position before opening his arms, spreading his cloak wide as if they were a pair of majestic wings:

“Come here, you idiot. I can’t have you freezing to death because you refuse to look after yourself.”

In normal circumstance Merlin would’ve argued, but he really was cold, so when he cracks his eyes open to see Arthur ready and waiting, he doesn’t hesitate to crawl hurriedly over. Arthur ignores the flush rising on his cheeks as Merlin clambers over one of his legs, settling between them and shoving his head under the blonde’s chin; he wraps his cloak around the two of them and rubs his cheek into the Warlock’s soft hair.

He can feel Merlin grin against his collarbone, and it’s enough to distract him from the surprising, but not unwelcome, weight of Merlin’s muscled form against his chest:

“You know, Arthur, if you wanted to feel up my muscles so badly you just had to ask. You stare far too often to think you’re subtle.”

Arthur’s flush deepens and his body goes rigid as Merlin giggles. He clenches his jaw and lands a punch, far softer than he would normally go for, on the other man’s shoulder, but that just makes him giggle harder, and Arthur has to hush him in fear of waking the others. Merlin looks up at him through thick eyelashes, blinking tiredly with a satisfied smile on his face:

“Just let me know if you ever want carrying around, I’m more than happy to help.”

Arthur gulps, refusing to make eye contact as he stares resolutely at the opposite wall and not acknowledging the red hue of his cheeks:

“When we get back to Camelot, I’m hanging you for treason.”

Merlin snorts quietly, re-burying his face in Arthur’s chest and curling up tightly in his lap to stave off the cold:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur gives in, smiling slightly and rolling his eyes as he tightens his hold on the other man. He lets his cheek fall back to rest on his soft hair as he closes his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to take over and descending into an easy sleep.

THE END!!

We stan Arthur gay panicking and all the knights (bar Leon of course, who handles it as tactically as he’s able) ruthlessly taking the piss :D

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this, I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you anon, I loved writing this!!!

Same as always, someone wants to write it up in full, go for it!! Drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

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robertdowneyhiddlesbatch · 2 years

Text

8. Situation

They passed one trouble, only to run into a bigger one yet. The company was being tracked by a pack of orcs, but luckily another wizard had come to their aid. Radagast the brown drew the orcs away, while Gandalf lead the dwarves another. To their unfortunate luck, one stray orc had discovered their hiding spot, but Kili shot it down. Unfortunately, the murder was quite loud, drawing the attention of the pack. Gandalf lead them down a hovel, and Thorin and Kili slid in just as a stampede went by.

There sounded war horns and clashing swords, then a shot Orc rolled into their hiding cave. Thorin pulled out to the arrow in its chest, and growled at its origins.

"Elves," he grumbled to Gandalf.

Dwalin found a trail which the company was eager to follow, but much less eager to cross. It was a narrow and tight path in itself, their discomfort rising when the Durin boys quarreled.

"You hand's touching my butt!" One whined, whacking the other's hands away.

"Well, your weapons are in my face!" The other one whined back, pushing his brother hard.

"Boys!" Aria scolded. "We're all cramped! You're not making it easier."

They continued to walk on, until Kili shoved Fili again.

"So help me Mahal, I will cut you both in half!" Thorin yelled this time. "Shut up and behave! We're almost there!"

They came out on top of a hill, a waterfall trickling beside them. In front of them was a hidden valley, with plenty more waterfalls that lead into the river below.

"The valley of Imladris," Gandalf announced as everyone else was lost in its majesty. "In the common tongue, it is known by another name."

"Rivendell."

As the rest of the company went on closer, Thorin went back to Gandalf, Aria following.

"This was your plan all along. To seek refuge with our enemy!"

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"You think the elves will give our quest their blessing?" Aria asked.

"They will try to stop us!" Thorin grumbled.

"Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact, respect, and no small degree of charm."

Aria looked between Thorin and Gandalf, and smiled.

"Which is why you will leave the talking, to me."

Gandalf lead them to the courtyard, where they were corralled in by war horses, lead by their host.

"Gandalf!"

"Lord Elrond." Gandalf acknowledged his friend.

"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders. Something or someone," he eyed the dwarves, "has drawn them near."

"That may have been us." Thorin walked up to them.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain."

"I do not believe we have met." Thorin coldly answered the elf's greeting.

"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled Under the Mountain."

"Indeed? He made no mention of you."

Aria pulled on Thorin's shoulder and drew him back, while Elrond simply smiled and turned to Gandalf, speaking in his native tongue.

"What is he saying?" Dwalin asked.

"Does he offer us insult?" Gloin struggled to the front.

"No, Master Gloin, he's offering you food." "Well, in that case, lead on."

They had dinner with the elves, annoyed by elvish music and disappointed at the lack of meat on the table. Still, they enjoyed each other's company, laughing at another's expense. Thorin and Gandalf sat aside with Lord Elrond as he introduced to them the elvish swords they had picked up from the troll horde. Soon Gandalf became too chatty, and Elrond too inquisitive, and the dwarf king excused himself from the table.

Aria meanwhile, had welcomed the elven hospitality, enchanted by the legend of Imladris. Lord Elrond had graciously welcomed them into his home, allowing them to rest and bath before dinner. There were quarters offered to them; some had to share, the king got his own, and Aria, being the only lady, was given her own room as well.

She changed into the clothes her hosts provided her with, and enjoyed a snack of fruits by herself in her room. When she left to join the company, Aria found them merrily singing on the tables, making a mess out of Lord Elrond's dining room. She found Thorin missing from the gathering, and instead decided to seek him out.

Aria instead snuck around the halls of Rivendell, exploring Imladris until she came across the room Thorin was in. The doors alone were beautiful, but the room took her breath away. Fit for a king indeed. There was a giant four poster bed at one side of the room and windows leading to a terrace on the other. But straight ahead of her was a light curtain, that wasn't doing much to hide what lay past.

Without making a noise, Aria crept up and pulled the curtain aside to take a peak: there was a bathing pool in the middle of the place, made of salmon marble. In it, she spotted Thorin's hair spilling out over the edge as he sat in the water, probably asleep. Carefully and thoughtfully she picked up her skirt and worked on stepping around to the other side of the pool, but the cool and wet floor made her lose her footing.

Her right food slid and she squealed before she could stop herself, and fell left side first into the pool. Aria wasn't under long before big, strong hands got her up right. She let out a loud gasp as Thorin pulled her out of the water, shock and water in her nose put her brain into life saving mode.

"You're alright, cough it up." Thorin coaxed gently as Aria roughly forced the water out of her breathing tubes.

"Aria?" Thorin's confused voice asked as he peeled off the hair sticking on her face. Since the past minute, this was the first time he'd got to see who had fallen in.

Aria flipped her hair back and grabbed Thorin's shoulders as the water bobbed her up and down. Finding her eyesight, she blushed and let out a nervous laugh.

"Well, then! I assume that has got to be the least attractive attempt someone's made towards you."

Thorin smirked a laugh. "Not the most attractive perhaps, but the most amusing." He laughed at her childishness and grabbed her waist, attempting to take her out. "Let's get you out of here before you catch a cold."

He'd already turned to the ledge before Aria grabbed his shoulder and forced him back. He let out an unconscious growl, meaning to be threatening, but it only made butterflies in her stomach.

"What are you doing, Aria?" His hand fisted at the clothing on her waist, obviously knowing what she was doing.

"Taking advantage of you." Aria replied suggestively as she pushed herself closer to Thorin, the water rippling around them.

"Taking advantage of your... situation."

ch7 ch9

#tiliy #rdhb #thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit

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besanii · 4 years

Note

For the anon thing, I started following Shattered Mirrors before I even had a Tumblr. I just kept the masterpost open and refreshed on a daily basis. I still keep it open in one of my tabs and check it periodically to make sure I didn't miss anything accidentally. I love pretty much all of your writing, but Shattered Mirrors has a special place in my heart.

Hi nonny! Thank you for your kind words :))) Have some more SM!!

Shattered Mirrors 70

[directly precedes #26]

In the end, it is Nie Mingjue who lands the killing blow, taking off Wen Ruohan’s head with a swing of his mighty sabre. Lan Wangji watches it happen from only metres away, fending off the Qishan soldiers charging their way up the grand staircase towards the Nightless City stronghold and their king. He doesn’t register it at first, not until he looks down to see the head of Qishan’s monarch at his feet, dark eyes staring lifelessly up at him, mouth still twisted in a snarl.

It is strange, he thinks numbly as weapons clatter to the ground around him, that the once-fearsome ruler of Qishan who had been the cause of decades of grief for Gusu and its allies is now reduced to little more than a bloodied corpse separated from its head.

“You alright, Er-dianxia?” Nie Mingjue asks gruffly, shaking off the worst of the blood from his blade with a flick of his wrist before wiping it on the corpse of a Qishan soldier. “Not much to look at, is he? Still, I’d say it’s an improvement.”

“Wangji congratulates Qinghe-wang on his victory,” Lan Wangji says, bowing to Nie Mingjue as he approaches. “Wangji has heard many stories of Qinghe-wang’s prowess in battle. It is an honour to be able to witness it in person.”

Nie Mingjue waves him off with a snort. “Gusu-er-dianxia is too generous with his words. It is I who must thank Gusu for the chance to take this dog’s head from his body.”

With Wen Ruohan and both his sons dead, the Sunshot War is officially declared over, and all fighting ceases on the front lines as soon as the news spreads. The majority of the surviving troops gradually begin the journey home, but some remain behind, tasked with overseeing the dismantling of war camps, processing prisoners of war, as well as rebuilding the villages and towns affected by the fighting.

Lan Wangji is immediately recalled to Gusu on Lan Xichen’s orders. Despite his desire to help, he knows he cannot defy Imperial orders again, so he has Lan Guoyan stay behind in his place, packs his bags and sets off for the capital. Everywhere they pass on their way back to Caiyi bears the marks of war—villages burnt, orphans and widows on the streets, injured soldiers in makeshift hospitals, once-fruitful and lush fields scorched and blackened beyond recognition. It will take many years of careful management to set things right again; in the meantime, the best they can do is to clean up wherever they can and provide the support and supplies their people desperately need.

He rides for the palace as soon as they enter the city.

Ordinarily, customs dictate that returning officials and soldiers must bathe and make themselves presentable before appearing before the Emperor as a sign of respect, but Lan Wangji knows it will make no difference now whether he carries the dust and grime of the road on him or not. He dismounts hastily at the gates to the Imperial Palace, where Eunuch Yang is already waiting.

“This servant greets Er-dianxia,” he says with a low bow. Lan Wangji nods.

“Yang-zongguan.” He hands off the reins of his horse to one of the soldiers who had followed him here. “I am here to see my brother.”

“Yes, Er-dianxia,” Eunuch Yang says, holding out an arm in the direction of the main hall. “Taizi-dianxia has tasked this servant with bringing Er-dianxia to the Great Hall immediately upon his arrival.”

The Great Hall.

Lan Wangji takes a deep, calming breath.

“Then I must trouble Yang-zongguan,” he says with a curt nod.

It is almost midday by now, which means the court’s morning session should have ended a while ago—but when they arrive at the Great Hall and Lan Wangji’s presence is announced, the entire court turns their heads to look at him. Lan Xichen stands below the throne, one arm tucked behind his back and a calm, neutral expression on his face as Lan Wangji strides down the aisle dividing the civil officials from the military. Not a sound escapes their lips, but he feels their eyes on him, their censure and disapproval burning into the dirt-stained cape trailing behind him.

He sinks to his knees before the dais, and touches his forehead and hands to the floor.

“Greetings Taizi-dianxia,” he says, voice loud and clear in the hall despite the words being directed to the floor. “I ask forgiveness for not having time to make myself presentable to Taizi-dianxia before coming here today.”

Lan Xichen inclines his head in acknowledgment, but his expression does not soften.

“Huangdi is welcome back to court,” he says. “You are to be commended for your part in the war, and in the execution of the tyrant Wen Ruohan. For this, Huangshang has bestowed upon you the title Hanguang-wang. You are granted Hanguang Manor as your permanent residence, effective immediately.”

Lan Wangji exhales. The message is clear—as a prince who has come of age, Lan Wangji is no longer permitted to live within the Imperial Palace; instead, he is granted a title and a residence in the city, and is only permitted to visit the palace on official business, or when summoned. His brother, as the Crown Prince, had moved out of the Inner Palace and into the Eastern Palace when he too had come of age. Lan Wangji keeps his head lowered to the ground.

“Er-chen thanks Huangshang for his generosity,” he says. After a pause, he continues. “There is one further issue for which I must ask Huangshang and Taizi-dianxia for their forgiveness.”

A tense, pregnant pause follows. This, Lan Wangji knows, is the real reason why the court has been kept back long after the morning session has ended, the reason why he has not been permitted to rise to his feet.

“What offence has been committed that Hanguang-wang must ask for forgiveness?” Lan Xichen asks, keeping his voice carefully devoid of any tell-tale inflection.

“Replying to Taizi-dianxia,” Lan Wangji says. “While stationed at the camp in Jiangling, a messenger arrived from Yunmeng seeking aid. Even knowing there were many things suspect about both message and messenger, I abandoned my post to travel to Yunmeng without first seeking permission.”

Murmurs break out amongst the officials at his declaration. As a soldier, abandoning your post during war is an act of desertion, punishable by death. For Lan Wangji to have committed such an offence, as the commander of the Jiangling front and a member of the Imperial Family, even if he escapes execution, punishment is inevitable. All eyes shift towards Lan Xichen, still as a statue above them, looking down impassively on his younger brother prostrate before him.

“That is indeed a grave offence,” he says. “An offence punishable by death. Do you acknowledge this?”

“Yes, Taizi-dianxia.” He ignores the collective intake of breath around him. “I accept whatever punishment Huangshang and Taizi-dianxia see fit.”

“Taizi-dianxia!” A voice rings out in the hall and there’s a flurry of activity as the ranks of the military officials part to allow one of their own to kneel behind Lan Wangji in the aisle. “Hanguang-wang has indeed committed a grave offence, but this lowly official dares beg Taizi-dianxia to take into account the many great deeds Hanguang-wang has accomplished in the war against Qishan, and spare him from execution!”

And then, as though his words had broken a dam, the officials in the hall—both civil and military alike—fall to their knees and prostrate themselves before Lan Xichen.

“We beg Taizi-dianxia show mercy!”

Lan Wangji raises his head enough to meet Lan Xichen’s eyes briefly, before lowering his gaze again. “Taizi-dianxia, wrongdoings must be punished. If the Son of Heaven breaks the law, he is just as guilty as the common folk. What example would I set the people of Gusu if I shirk the consequences of my actions?”

Through all of this, Lan Xichen remains quietly listening and observing each of them in turn. He holds up a hand for silence; a hush falls over the court as they await his ruling.

“You have all made valid points,” he says, nodding his head slowly as he considers their arguments. His face gives nothing away. “Such a grave offence cannot be overlooked, of course, and due punishment must be dealt. However—” He raises his voice when it looks like the officials may protest, “—what Lin-jiangjun says is not without merit. Without Hanguang-wang’s efforts, victory against Qishan would not have been possible. With this in mind, Hanguang-wang shall be sentenced to thirty-three strikes with the disciplinary whip.”

Lan Wangji sinks to the floor, an odd calm falling over him. A public whipping is one of the lighter punishments for the crime of desertion, but a harsh one nonetheless. No one watching would think he had gotten off lightly because of his status as an Imperial Prince, especially not when it must be endured publicly. He thinks of the message still tucked away inside his robes, of the length of red ribbon resting over his heart, of the massacre left behind in Lotus Pier, and knows in his heart that he would do it all again.

“Wangji gives thanks to Huangshang and Taizi-dianxia for their benevolence.”

Notes:

Huangdi (皇弟) - Imperial Younger Brother, opposite of Huangxiong (皇兄)

Er-chen (儿臣) - Son and Subject, used by princes to refer to themselves when talking to the Emperor - in this case, LWJ is thanking his father in absentia (because LXC is representing the Emperor as Regent, thus his decisions are considered on behalf of the Emperor).

master post is here: besanii.tumblr.com/shattered-mirrors-master-post

buy me a ko-fi: ko-fi.com/besanii

#hey nonny nonny #asks #mdzs #wangxian #shattered mirrors fic #shattered mirrors au #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #my writing #prince!lwj #courtesan!wwx #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan xichen #wei ying arc

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grozycrypto · 3 years

Text

Best Blockchain games to play and earn

While play-to-earn crypto games are not a new concept, their popularity has been constantly increasing! Everyone is captivated by their screens as they seek to battle it out and gain as much Smooth Love Potion (SLP) as possible in this battle simulator game. The potential earnings are sure to raise a few eyebrows.

In fact, several players in the Philippines make enough money to support their families. As a result, many people are anticipating the release of highly anticipated games, such as the Gotchiverse.

Play-to-earn games are those that allow players to engage in activities such as challenges, battle simulators, tasks, and more in exchange for in-game currency.

Cryptoblades

As gamers go out to explore other possibilities, CryptoBlades has grown in popularity alongside Axie Infinity. Riveted Games' NFT role-playing game CryptoBlades was released on the Binance Smart Chain. You may acquire SKILL tokens in CryptoBlades by killing foes, raiding with allies, and staking your winnings.

You can defeat your opponents or win more tokens by trading them on the market by constructing powerful character and weapon NFTs. This amusing game is simple to play and reminds me of Zynga's Mafia Wars, which was a great hit in the early 2000s.

GameInfinity

GameInfinity is all set to launch a one-of-a-kind blockchain gaming platform that brings crypto investors and gamers together in a united platform. The platform has launched exciting games that give you GAMEIN tokens which make you a privileged gamer on the platform. Jokes apart, you can use this token to earn money!

Currently they are running a Bounty program where you need to complete some simple tasks and you will be rewarded with Crypto tokens and GAMEIN tokens. Why not give it a try ?

Zed Run

The ponies are safely tucked away in the back! Zed Run is a play-to-earn cryptocurrency game that incorporates horse racing characteristics into the blockchain. It is made up of horse NFTs that take on a life of their own and was created by Virtually Human Studio in Australia.

Horses may be bred using an algorithm that uses bloodlines and lineage to determine color, strength, and speed. After that, players can enter their horses in races on digital tracks for cash prizes worth thousands of dollars.

Cometh

We're going on an outer space expedition, so get your space suit ready. Cometh allows players to travel the cosmos and my valuable tokens from asteroids. You may get a starship, travel the galaxy, and earn tokens without ever leaving your room in this DeFi power game with yield generating NFTs!

Traveling the galaxy in a M.U.L.E (Mining Units for Light Exploration) training ship provided by the Galactic Federation is the simplest way to get started. It can travel specialized solar systems and players can gain experience with ship control, but it can't mine juicy comets.

Plant vs Undead

Another popular play-to-earn crypto game that allows players to earn PVU tokens is Plant vs Undead. Players can visit other players' farms to water their plants in farm mode, earning the in-game currency LE Token in the process.

These tokens can subsequently be exchanged for tools, scarecrows, and other amusements. It can, on the other hand, be used to withdraw PVU Tokens, which can then be spent on the marketplace to buy seeds and plants.

REVV

Ka-Chow! It's time to put on your racing helmet because things are about to become a lot faster. Official racing games like F1 Delta Time and MotoGP Ignition are available in the REVV Motorsport gaming economy. More games, such as Formula E, are in the works.

On REVV, players can push themselves to compete in the Time Trial and Grand Prix for a chance to win REVV tokens.

Ethermon

Finally, we look at Ethermon, one of the first blockchain games to create interactive NFTs, allowing players to own, improve, use, and profit from in-game assets. You acquire Ether Mons (also known as Mons) with Ethermon in order to engage in a growing number of game modes and earn prizes.

These game types range from on-site 2D RPGs to full-fledged 3D massively multiplayer online role-playing games (MMORPGs) in Decentraland's metaverse, where your Mons are turned into 3D characters.

It's fascinating to observe how the blockchain has enabled the creation of a wide range of games and gameplay, as well as the ability for users to earn tokens. As the area expands and new games (such as the long-awaited Gotchiverse!) are released, there is a lot of excitement.

Play-to-earn crypto games are a terrific way to make your cryptocurrency earning experience more enjoyable.

#blockchaingaming #blockchain #blog #technology #gameinfinity #GAMEIN #gaming #Cryptocurrency #Airdrop #Cryptocurrency News #bitcoin #ethereum #axie infinity #tumblog #tumblr #art #ethermoon #cometh #revv

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horrorslashergirl · 3 years

Note

Andrei and Amaria Kulokova 🐺🔪

(This shall be interesting 👀👀 and funny! Lol)

Richard Firewood

For Andrei: Richard might see Andrei as an alternative for business, when there aren't enough clients to his hotel, he might call Andrei to hide him to capture 10 or 20 people. It will be strictly business.

Richard: Cash is King. Enough said.

For Amaria: He might be on neutral territory with her as long as she respects his territory and hotel.

Richard: She better not cover the carpets of the lobby in mud.

Jackson Jasper

For Andrei: He may view Andrei as a cool guy with whom to hang around for drinks and flirt with women.

Jackson: Any drinking buddy is good company.

For Amaria: Jackson loves a pretty lady especially one who isn't afraid to get down and dirty. He likes her.

Jackson: You don't see women like her often. *smirks*

The Hacker

For Andrei: Both are fucked up into the head. Both are bloody disgusting. Both love to stick their cocks into bloody pussies. They might be on good terms... Plus if Andrei needs a certain weapon, The Hacker can provide it wirh ease.... For a good priece.

The Hacker: *looks up from his computer screen* Oh? Him? Yeah... Fucked up in the head but not as much as me. *smirks*

For Amaria: Now that's a dollface that the Hacker might like. She fucks the corpses of her victims from time to time? The Hacker does that on an almost daily basis... Almost.

The Hacker: *whistle* Pretty wild baby doll. Me like~

Dave Anthony

For Andrei: If Andrei thought he was brutal then he sure doesn't know Dave. This poltergeist was casted from both heaven and hell. Try to match that Andrei. If Andrei tries to stab or shot Dave, this evil entity will just laugh in his face and grin.

Dave: *evil smirk* Trying to kill me? *manical laugh* You cannot kill what's already dead, cocksucker... I am gonna enjoy possessing your body.

For Amaria: Now, that's something you don't usually see everyday and Dave would be intrigued by Amaria and her so called Gods. Interesting little human girl.

Dave: Oh? You believe in Gods.... Well.... I am the biggest motherfucking God ever, baby girl.

Samuel Grayson

For Andrei: The moment Samuel senses his aura he wants to puke his guts, because Andrei screams of sins all over and just his presence into the same room will annoy Samuel. Let alone Andrei trying anything with this poltergeist. Andrei will turn into a chew toy for Samuels hellhounds.

Samuel: He stinks of sin and he is a disgusting piece of walking meat on earth. *snarls*

For Amaria: Her aura is so so much more different than her brothers and to say so... Samuel is a little intrigued by her aura, sensing all the sadness from her past and there is just something about her beliefs that he finds.... Adorable?

Samuel: She is... Interesting.... But no... I am no God. These are too high words for me, little one.

Azol

For Andrei: Did I say Dave is absolutly brutal? Well Andrei... Meet Azol. This evil entity will view Andrei as the most amusing plaything ever. Ironic, huh? Much like the other supranatural ones, Azol feasts on humans desires and he will absolutly use Andrei's desires against him. He will haunt his dreams and drive him insane.

Azol: Ohhhh... You think you are brutal, piece of sloppy fucking used cunt. *chuckles evily* I am gonna have so much fun with your soul... I am sure after you die... We all are gonna fuck you into hell like the cocksucker I know you are. *laugh*

For Amaria: Azol will be amused by her beliefs into her Gods, teasing and haunting her, making her kill as many people as possible. Azol found himself new entertainment.

Azol: Oh... Never seen a human kill that much and with such a passion. *grins evilly* See that man, little one... He needs to die.... Listen to your new God and you will live on forever.

Bahini Talibah

For Andrei: Andrei is everything that Bahini hates into a man; he is despicable, horrible, disgusting, annoying, sleazy and someone she would absolutly not stand. He better not get near her or else he will suffer a slow, horrible and painfull death that will make Andei crawl on the floor in his own blood. Having your flesh and muscels be slowly melted by Bahinis piercing gaze isn't something to look forward to.

Bahini: His aura is simply making me anxious. He better stay away from me. He pisses me off!

For Amaria: Bahini might find her believe in Gods fascinating since she herself believes in the Egyptian Gods. They might have conversations about their Gods and such. Plus Amarias quiet and misterious aura is very calm and gives Bahini tranquility.

Bahini: She is a fascinating young woman... Also Anubis told me she has a beautiful and lightfull soul.

Azment

For Andrei: This demoness lust will destroy Andrei's for sure... And I advise him to not get close to her because at the end of the night he will be dead by the time he climaxes.... I mean... If he wants a horse dick up his ass that's his problem. Azment will over power him with ease.

Azment: Ohhh He sure is handsome and I can taste his lust... Such delicious carnal and mouthwatering lust.

For Amaria: Azment sees this small but deadly woman as very beautiful and she can appreciate such brutal display for passion of certain things... Like Amarias passion for Gods.

Azment: Beautiful and powerfull young human woman... Such beauty... It gives tingles down my spine. *sways her tail from side to side*

The Shadow

For Andrei: His personality and the vibe Andrei gives off is simply annoying to Shadow. Isn't it enough he has to deal with that idiot of a HACKER maniac? Now he has the stand this Russian Incompetent. He cannot work with these idiots around.

The Shadow: *looks up from cleaning his scalpels* I cannot stand this morron. He better not stick his nose into my business unless he wants to end up on my disection table.

For Amaria: She seems quiet and she keeps to herself so that is good on Shadows books. Her past might make Shadow sad because he has went through abuse too... Different but still abuse. He might be interested into her topics of Gods... Since he is one to feast on information and likes to learn about all type of topics.

The Shadow: She is... Fascinating to say so... But at last she is quiet.

Mitch Carson

For Andrei: This feral man will view Andrei as straight up enemy and he won't hesitate to turn the Russian into a raw steak, considering all that mass muscels and blood. If Andrei knows what's good for him, he better keep off Mitchs territory or else he will be the new target for crossbow practice.

Mitch: *growls, all body muscels ready for him to strike*

For Amaria: Considering her small body stature, he might be intrigued by her but still cautious, like a feral animal of the deep dark woods. If she brings him human flesh or bones for him to chew on... She Might.... Just might turn Mitch into a feral lap dog that will maim anyone who dares to touch Amaria.

Mitch: *growls then purrs at her, tilting his head to the side curiously*

Gerome Montana and Axel Friedrich

For Andrei: Army friends? Maybe? They might share some drinks some army stories. Three mercenaries sharing bloody ideas of killing. I guess. They might be on neutral relations with Andrei, but since they are in Miami and Andrei hates the heat... I doubt it. Down for a one night stand after drinks? Perhaps.

Gerome: Haha Cool Russian Crazy Dude!

Axel Friedrich: His personality is a bit too much. *groans*

For Amaria: You don't see such deadly women that often and they might find her very intirguing, but that's about it. Plus.... I don't know if she would like Miami with the heat and all that.

Gerome: Beautiful badass woman! Sexy!

Axel: *facepalms at Gerome* I suppose I can appreciate a woman who can handle such big weapons like a machete.

Damiano Liberato

For Andrei: He finds him very disgusting with no taste at all and Andrei simply makes Damiano have a horrible taste into his mouth. He cannot stand camo!

Damiano: Isn't it enough I have to stand my creator and her camo army clothing!? Now this man! I cannot believe Richard can be close to this disgusting brute. Ugh.

For Amaria: Very beautiful woman but a shame that she has no style into dressing up. Damiano finds the Kulokova siblings too.... Dirty.

Damiano: A lady shouldn't dress like that. Pants? Seriously... Just no.

Bambi Miller

For Andrei: She thinks he is a pretty cool dude with whom to share drinks and maybe have some knife throwing game. Plus, she thinks she thinks Andrei is pretty badass with his faux hawk. They might have some fun nights with drinking vodka and throwing knife at people.

Bambi: Pretty badass Russian stud. *giggles* only my knife is bigger than his. *winks*

For Amaria: Bambi thinks Amaria is very pretty and she appreciates women who can stand up for themselvs and beat the guys around. Plus her machete is so cool.

Bambi: She is very beautiful... Its true what they say that Russian women are very gorgeous.

Xaviera Lah-Mo

For Andrei: He is her ultimate and only love, so of course she simply adores Andrei. It comes natural. He is her precious and wild Wolf.... And to think that the first day they meet, Xavi wanted to throw his ass into the blizzard outside. Andrei is her soulmate and the only man she has feelings for... And the only man she won't shot with her sniper rifle into his balls.

Xaviera: He is the light of my life, the man that make me be strong with each passing day.... My wild and handsome Wolf..... My beautiful soulmate. My everything.

For Amaria: Being Andrei's sister, Xaviera cares for her and tries to calm Andrei down to think clearly when she is around. Xaviera tries to be the refere between these two without getting between their fights. Both Xavi and Amaria use a sniper rifle and Xavi would love for her sister-in-law and her to have a shooting practice together. Just enjoying some quiet time.

Xaviera: She is a hard person to understand if you don't see through her soul, you need to take your time to understand her because she means well... She is not as bad as one might think. She is just misunderstood like we all were at some point in life.

Akshay Lah-Mo

For Andrei: Andrei is Akshay's best friend and soul brother to say so; they fight, they bicker, they drink, but at the end of the day they are best friends and always there to watch eachothers backs. Akshay might seem that he hates Andrei, but if he really hated him, Andrei wouldn’t be alive.

Akshay: The mutt? Yeah... He is a good man... When he isn't his usual idiot self. *grunts*

For Amaria: Akshay knows she is Andrei's sister and that their sibling relation isn't that good. Akshay hasn't really interacted that much with Amaria but if he has to say his opinion he would say that he is beautiful and misunderstood... And very deadly for such a small woman.

Akshay: It really shows she is the mutts sister... She can maim you and your corpse would just misteriously disappear.

Decebal Avram Chirilă

For Andrei: Decebal has lots of fun with Andrei and they are two knuckleheads and daredevils. Andrei had done so much for Decebal that none has ever done and the Romanian is very gratefull for it, hench his loyality towards the Russian. Decebal didn't expected to get along with Andrei that good but he absolutly adores him... And the moments they fuck.

Decebal: Ohhhh! Vodknockers!? He is like a fun and crazy little brother... He sure has a temper which is funny. Haha *smirks* His libido matches mine and he has a great cock *laughs*

For Amaria: Decebal knows that she is the way she is because of her past and he isn't one to judge or make fun of her believs and such. Everyone can believe in whatever they want. What's the problem with that? Plus, he thinks she is very gorgeous.

Decebal: Oh? That wild woman? She is very beautiful, like hella beautiful that she could put an army of women to shame. *laughs* But seriously now... Just like Xavi said... She is only misunderstood. *soft smile*

Alexander Chirilă

For Andrei: Alexander simply feels very uncomfortable in the same room as Andrei and it doesn't help that the Russian was Alexanders first. Alexander finds it so so frustrating that Andrei has no sense of other peoples personal space, especially his.

Alexander: Oh God.... Not him again. He has no respect, he is an absolut degeranted wanker who doesn't understand the concept of personal space and he frustrates me so so much it makes me so angry. *blushing red face and huffs* But.... I suppose... Like my big brother said... He can be nice... Only I never saw that!

For Amaria: Alexander enjoys that she is quite and she seems to have some concept of other peoples personal space. Plus he is glad she isn't like her big brother... Who acts like a sexual offender. Amaria kind of reminds Alexander of one of the tallest mountains, surrounded by mist... Especially that certain quietness.

Alexander: I suppose she is alright... She seems like a very strong one with a certain specific will... And she is pretty..... B-But not like that! *blushes*

Nadia Nikolina Chirilă

For Andrei: She thinks she is a good man, on certain topics but on other hands.... She views him as a stupid kid with disgusting behaviors and most important.... A coward. If he thinks he is so mighty, why not take someone his own size or bigger, not some small and innocent woman. Andrei is only lucky because of Decebal..... Or else he would have been castrated the moment he meet Nadia. Period.

Nadia: *looks up from her painting* He is a stupid child.... But means well... On certain moments.

For Amaria: Nadia thinks that Amaria is a very intirguing and gorgeous woman, small but with a fierce spirit that will cit through you just like her machete... Nadia appreciates greatly a woman who won't take anyones shit, especially a mans. Amaria reminds Nadia of a pit of big sharp deadly ice icicle, that she saw the first month she moved into Greenland. The pit looked so so beautiful but if you stepped to close you would fall into said pit and a painfull horrible death will follow.

Nadia: Beautiful and Deadly... Such a majestic combination. *paints a womans shadow with mountains into the background*

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Emp-ire, “Deputy.”

Hope you are all having a good day, and I hope you enjoy the story :)

Sparks leapt into the air vanishing to blend in with the wide expanse of the night sky overhead. Spoons clattered and rattled against cans, as the small group of men sat under the stars eating their meager rations. Adam shifted feeling the weight of his new gun on the opposite hip from his old: McBride’s gun.

The Sheriff spooned another mouthful of ration under his mustache before grunting as if he had remembered something and reached behind him, pulling out a sheathed knife and tossing it over to Adam, “Believe that belongs to you.”

He caught it with one hand, and set the can he was eating from down beside his boot, pulling the knife from its sheath, only to see the familiar decorative glint. He felt his face flush a bit, and when he looked up at the sheriff, seeing the look on the man’s face he knew that he knew.

He opened his mouth to speak, “I am so sorry sheriff, I really had no idea what came over me, I-” The man’s booming laugh cut him off mid apology, “No need to apologize to me boy. That man was nothing better than a crawly little maggot in my book, and deserved a lot more than losing a knife.” He snorted and leaned back in his seat, “Why take it, though, you being such an upstanding citizen and all. Doesn’t seem to fit your profile.”

Adam, still a bit flushed, rubbed the back of his neck, “I…. well.”

That’s when Ramirez butted in, leaning over the fire and announcing in a very loud voice, “To impress a girl.”

Adam turned a sharp glare down on Ramirez who was grinnin fit to burst.

“A girl!” The sheriff exclaimed, “Now that is something, isn’t it. Why don’t you go ahead and tell us about this girl.”

Ramires rolled his eyes,”How about that time he dumped that girl, and decided to pine after her later.”

Adam glowered so hard at Ramirez he hoped he would explode, but when no spontaneous combustion occurred, he simply sighed and slouched down in his seat, “Look, not to get into too many details or seem sorry for myself, but I’m not exactly in a great mental headspace to…. To be dating right now. It isn’t fair to her, and I refuse to drag her into my mess, especially one she didn’t sign up for.”

Around the fire, he could see the other men rolling their eyes largely.

“If she’s any kind of woman, it wouldn’t matter..” One of them said, “A real woman’s always got your back, covers you blind spots, and she’s shooting when you reload. A real woman makes you a better man at the same time you make her a better woman…. Course that is assuming that you are any kind of man.’ Adam blew out through his cheeks long and drawn out, “Very poetic, deputy, but let's assume I’m not any kind of man…. At least not right now, and she doesn’t deserve that.” “And so what, did you hope to find your manhood out here with the roughians and the hooligans.” one of them asked motioning around at the planet behind him.

Adam sighed again, “Actually, no.” he motioned to Ramirez, “that one dragged me out here to cheer me up, but since we’ve been here, I’ve been threatened, had a horrible hangover, been kicked in the face, kidnapped, threatened, fallen off a horse, and been kicked in the face a second time.”

The group of men laughed, “Sounds like a good time!”

They laughed, and he laughed with them.

“Anyway, she likes weapons, loves them actually, any kind, so it made me think of her, and I thought that when I get back, maybe my apology would go better if I soften her up first.”

The men eyed each other, “Or give her a weapon to carve you up with in her rage.”

He snorted and smiled slightly, “I guess you’re right about that. Anyway, I don’t expect to get her back, not really, but I at least want to say sorry, man up and explain to her why I did what I did. I was so messed up at the time, that I didn’t really provide a good explanation, and I think she deserved to know the truth. I am hoping this is a case of better late than never, and not a case of too little too late.”

Ramirez sighed and shook his head but let it go.

The sheriff watched him with some interest, head tilted this way and that, scrutinizing him as if he was some strange looking crustation the man had found under a rock.

He stared down at the knife he now twisted between his two fingers before strapping it to his belt,

He expected the sheriff or one of the other deputies to keep going on about it, but they dropped the subject, and instead the sheriff leaned forward over the fire, “You boys did a pretty good job with those men back there. That was some good shooting, and back at the bar was some pretty good teamwork.” he looked sidelong at Adam, “Now, I can’t vouch for the intelligence of a man who would flying tackle a bandit off a horse at twenty miles an hour, but that remains to be seen I suppose.”

Ramirez and Adam lifted their head in interest.

Adam raised an eyebrow, “You trying to say something sheriff.”

The man paused scrutinizing them still, “Well McBride and his men have been bothering this community for a while now, and it needs to stop. Now we captured a few of them back there, but McBride is the one we are really after, without him his whole group falls apart and vanishes back into whatever cesspit they came from.” he paused tapping his boot thoughtfully against the dirt, “We need good fighting men to help us take them down and you two….”

Ramirez and Adam both leaned forward in some measure of excitement eyes wide.”

“And well, the two of you have more than proven your metal when it comes to the fighting aspect so….. I am more than willing to deputize you boys until we catch McBride, the help would be most appreciated.”

“HELL YEAH!”

The sheriff almost fell off his log as the two of them jumped to their feet in vehement and unbridled excitement.

A few of the deputies just shook their heads.

“City folk.” one of them whispered but the smile on his face made it clear enough that he didn’t really mean anything by it.

“Calm down! Lest I rethink my offer,” the sheriff muttered, clearly trying to appear more annoyed than he actually was. He stood, “Both raise your right hands or some shit, I don’t know.”

The two of them did as asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Now in the power vested in me by the Bramble county justice system bla bla, I hereby deputize you that you may bring justice and all that stuff or whatever. Do you swear to protect this county and all the citizens in it.”

“We swear.”

He grunted, “Good.”

The two men stared at him, grinning expectantly, “What?”

“You know what.”

He sighed, grumbled, and walked over to his saddle, reaching into the bag and pulling out two shiny golden badges both in the shape of a star. He tossed them across the topen fire at the two men, “Here, and try not to wet yourselves.”

They didn’t wet themselves of course

But there was certainly a moment of girlish screaming and jumping up and down around the fire that probably shouldn't have been done in front of a group of other men whose respect they were trying to gain.

When they sat back down finally clearing their throats and awkwardly adjusting their hats, the other men stared at them with some measure of both amusement and concern, though no one said anything.

Of course neither of them really cared.

Ramirez was still admiring his badge when a sudden frown came over his face, and he reached down to his shirt, “Damn it.”

Adam tilted his head,”What.”

“Hole in my shirt.”

He turned to see that there was, indeed, a hole in his shirt.

“Shit, I liked this shirt.” “Oh stop bitching and hand it over.”

“What.”

“Just give me the damn shirt.”

Ramirez did as told, though as he handed it over, the suspenders of his pants now hanging down at his sides he looked up grinning, “If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could have just asked.”

Adam, not looking up from the hole replied, “I’ll be interested in your sweaty man boobs when hell freezes over.”

There was some light chuckling form around the fire as Adam reached into his bag and pulled out a small sewing kit. The group of men watched as he deftly threaded a needle, wetting the end of the thread with saliva before threading it through the small hole. Within the next few seconds he was pulling the hole in the shirt closed until it was neatly stitched back up and he handed it back to Ramirez .

He stared looking between Adam and the repaired shirt, “dude…. This… this is clean… since when have you known how to sew.”

Adam looked almost offended, “Seriously ramirez, think about who my mother is for five secons.”

“I mean yeah, but you didn’t exactly strike me as the sitting in the living room sewing with mom type.”

Adam crossed his arms, “I had a life once. Before I joined the UNSC I used to make my own costumes for conventions. My mother taught me everything she knows, and since I didn’t have a lot of friends at school I got pretty good at it.”

“Next you’ll be telling me you can knit.”

“Dude I will Knit or crochet you the best damn scarf you’ve ever worn and maybe a nice pair of mittens to go along with it.”

They stared at each other neither breaking eye contact.

“I make a mean beanie.”

Ramirez began to laugh, “You never cease to amaze me. What else can you do. I mean, you can Knit and crochet, and sew.”

“I am also pretty handy at cross-stitching, embroidery, and needlepoint.”

The other men around the fire began to laugh, though it was good natured enough.

Adam shrugged, “Laugh all you want, but I never had to worry about holes in my pants.”

“That it”

He paused and shook his head, “Well, no. I used to be able to do makeup ok, just for the costumes I did, could practically change the structure of my face. I was pretty good at it, I would say.” he frowned, rubbing his chin a bit, “I mean there were a lot of the things my mother and father taught me how to do…”

“Why…. why did you stop. That all seems fun.”

Adam paused, and then shrugged, “I…. well, I joined the UNSC and then didn’t really have time to do those things anymore. They just sort of… fell away until I kind of forgot I could even do them…. It was the same with riding horses and woodworking.”

“You used to draw too, didn’t you.”

Adam shrugged, “A little, probably could have been pretty good if I had practiced, but there wasn’t really time to do that either.”

One of the deputies prodded the fire with a stick, “Let your job kind of take over your life, didn’t you.”

He paused and shrugged, “I guess.”

“Not something that's good for a man.” The sheriff gestured around the circle, “The boys here all have things they like doing outside work. I mean I own a little farm. I like getting my hands in the dirt, and watching things grow. Clayton over there makes his own booze, and is pretty good at if I don’t say so myself. Tom there and his girl like to go dancing, won a few competitions, haven’t you Tom.”

Adam rubbed the back of his head, “Well I do have things outside my work I like to do, like flying or, watching vintage movies.”

“You're a fighter pilot, Adam, so that doesn’t count, and sci-fi movies are too close to home.”

He sighed, “Fine, fine, maybe I let the life take me over a little too much.”

Ramirez snorted, “Maybe…. Maybe?”

“Ok yeah, I DID for sure.”

“Don’t lose yourself kid. The moment you allow your job to define you, there is always the chance it could be taken away, and then you’d lose your identity all together.”

Adam grimaced at the thought, but realized they were…. Right.

What was he?

And there walsall the possibility in the world that he could lose his job. He wasn’t sure how it could be done, but he was sure it could happen. There was always the possibility of politics chasing him out of his role if he got too important. Or perhap, he would just get to old, and they wouldn’t trust him anymore.

Either way, one day he was going to be out of a job, and when that happened, he needed to make sure he was stable enough to handle it. And if he couldn’t handle his real life, right now, then he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to handle himself if he lost it.

“Get some sleep, all of you, we ride out tomorrow…. To catch a train.”

The men grumbled and maneuvered their saddles into more comfortable positions leaving one man on watch for that night.

Adam leaned back against his saddle to stare up at the stars.

There was…. An overwhelming sense of vertigo that came with looking up, a familiar sensation he had had since childhood. The stars overhead were comforting and familiar, but tonight they also seemed distant. They had been distant for a while, he supposed, and the thought left him with a deep well of sadness.

When had it been, when had he lost it….. The wide eyed childish love for what he did.

When had he become so…. So lost.

Was there a moment he could pinpoint, was there an instance he could look back on and see?

Or had it come on slowly pernicious and insidious creeping up on him slowly from behind to tackle him and bind him with such doubts and indecision.

He closed his eyes, and in his dreams he flew through the sky trailing his fingers through he stars.

185 notes · View notes

avengershumanresources · 3 years

Text

blood 10 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 9 - part 11

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

10 - a trick

Peter had Sam and Clint notify the guard. Natalia and James secured the Queen and Princess Morgan, and before anyone had time to breathe, Peter stormed Obadiah’s bedchamber.

The king woke with a start, opening his mouth to protest the interruption and stopping immediately when the tip of a sword went to his throat.

“Is this supposed to be a coup?” he mocked while Peter marched him out of the bedroom toward the throne room. “You’re in over your head, boy.”

Peter didn’t reply, keeping his sword up until they were securely in the throne room where Wong, Steve, and Thor waited with crossed arms.

“King Rumlow will not stand for this,” Obadiah’s confident tone faded once Peter shoved him forward. “Whatever you’re planning, you’re outnumbered.”

“Per the law, if the council feels the king is unfit, he may be removed in favor of the next in line,” Wong recited.

“He’s not of age!” Obadiah spat but Steve looked between the men.

“A few months?” he asked the group. “I saw the records say his birth was yesterday, 22 years to the day.”

“It’ll be noted,” Wong hummed, the quartet watching the king for his next move.

“Traitors-,” Obadiah threw a finger between the men accusingly. “Where’s Strange? Not man enough to face me himself?”

“Uncle, if you step down peacefully, you can live out your days unbothered at the border,” Peter offered tersely, watching the manic man for any sudden movements. “Please.”

“Ha!” Obadiah threw his head back, taking a few steps away from the group. “Do you honestly think I believe that? You’ll send that bitch assassin or the cripple missing an arm after me.”

Peter saw Steve tense at the insults, but maintained a firm tone with the disgraced king.

“Please uncle,” he tried to reason. “There are many who wish to see you punished for your transgressions-.”

“Transgressions?” Obadiah spun on to him. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve tried to bring peace to the kingdom. I’ve broken no law.”

“You ordered the death of my father,” Peter stated, unflinchingly. He stated the older, larger man down. “The punishment for treason is death and I am giving you the option of survival.”

Shouting was beginning to rise from the courtyard outside the throne room. Flickers of torches and the whinnying of horses soon meshed into the sounds.

“The men who wish to see you dead far outnumber anyone loyal to you,” Steve warned, eyeing the lights through the stained glass. “You have nothing to offer Rumlow, there’s no guarantee he’ll be willing to waste the men on a lost cause.”

There was a there was a crash from the hall outside the locked throne room door. Swords clanged against once another and the shouting grew louder.

Turning to the men, Obadiah smirked when someone began slamming against the door.

“Are you certain of that, Peter?” he asked, his grin growing wider. “Don’t think I was blind to your schemes. I know all that goes on in this castle.”

He rounded on Peter, a finger prodding the prince’s chest.

“I heard all about the tavern meetings with the Asgardians and this pathetic attempt on my throne,” he glowered down at him. “I knew exactly why the Asgardians were here, a betrothal, don’t be stupid! I knew about that little slut too. Now she’s with her weak father... probably lamenting how I outsmarted them. You’re a fool, Peter, and you’ll hang for this.”

There was a stunned silence, all eyes falling on Peter, who’d backed away with Obadiah towering over him. Shouts and banging could still be heard from the halls, a group now trying to break down the door.

All at once, Peter let out a furious yell. He grabbed the front of Obadiah’s sleeping gown with one hand, the other going for a dagger at his side.

“Do you see this knife?” he snarled, pricking the tip against Obadiah’s neck to draw a single droplet of blood. “My sister used it to defend against that beast you’ve brought into my home. Do you know who gave it to her? One of the most dangerous criminals in the next two kingdoms, pray tell me, uncle- what do you think they will do to do if I don’t kill you now? The assassin who so trusted my beloved sister, he gave her a weapon to defend from you?”

“You’re going to lose.”

“What will they do, Obadiah-,” Peter dug the blade a little deeper into the kings skin, making the man squirm. “When the truth of her death comes out? When the truth of my fathers death? The longest reign of peace and economic prosperity in generations. What will the farmers, whose crops Rumlow burned under your orders, do to you?”

“Peter!” the door burst open and Wong grabbed Peter, teleporting him, Thor, and Steve away before Amora could blast the group.

She rushed toward the king, hands glowing, while she skimmed him over for injury.

“The queen and princess are gone,” she reported. “My king rallied his troops the moment he caught wise of what the prince was planning. Sir, he still commits his men to you, per your agreement.”

“No marriage?” Obadiah practically stammered out.

“My grace, the specifics can be dealt with, should we survive this treacherous siege, now hold on,” she grabbed his wrist and teleported with a cloud of green smoke.

(—)

“The princess was moved to the crypt,” Loki reported once he met Stephen in the courtyard, his troops readying to support the guard within the castle. “One of the priests heard wind of the siege and gave her a quick blessing before fleeing.”

That wasn’t part of the plan.

Stephen had done his best to ensure you would have been removed from the stone coffin before you could risk suffocating. With an active battle, there was no guarantee when he could rescue you.

“I have to move her now,” he realized at Loki’s urgent implication.

“Better now than when the castle is burning,” the prince replied snarkily. His attention was caught by a large flame in one of the guard towers. Obadiah had resisted.

It was time.

“Go, before I go myself to avoid this barbaric carnage,” Loki pulled on his battle helmet and began to rally his men.

Stephen didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly drew up a portal to the Stark family crypt below the castle. He raced to the newest section of the tomb, where your grandfather and your father’s empty coffin sat under a carving of your great-grandfather.

He ignited the torches with a wave of his hand, immediately spotting the recently disturbed stone tomb. Raising his palm, he blasted the lid of the entrapment, pushing the stone aside and summoning a light to better see inside.

To his relief, you were there, arms folded over your chest, body tucked in a hastily wrapped funeral shroud. He ripped the cloth back, pulling your unconscious body out of the stone chamber and draping you over his lap on the ground.

A quick check of his spell, and it was still holding. Your seidr was still concealed and you were still alive, just in a deep, charmed, sleep.

He scooped you up, throwing open a portal to the chambers he’d prepared at his home, and quickly draped you onto the bed.

Sensing his magic, Wanda stepped through her own portal, glancing up at her friend in concern.

“It’s early,” she noted with a tilt of her head.

“Obadiah didn’t surrender or attempt to negotiate. Brock joined the attack,” he explained. “The king needs to rally the troops here and notify our allies.”

Wanda gave a curt nod, disappearing as quickly as she’d appeared.

He returned his attention to you, lightly touching the seidr seal on your wrist and ensuring the spell would hold while he was out of sight.

“I will return my love,” he vowed, tucking a strand of hair out of your face and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. He double checked the wards around the bedroom a final time before opening a portal to Tony’s encampment within his estate grounds.

(—)

“Peter, what’s happening?” Pepper demanded when the trio sudden appeared in her chambers. James and Natalia were both in their feet, awaiting further instructions.

“Where’s Morgan?” he demanded, moving through the room until he located his baby sister in the old nursery attached to the suite. “We have to get the two of you to safety.”

“She wanted to sleep, James and Natalia told us to stay ready, but-,” Pepper hurried after him. “Peter, what is going on?”

“I’m removing Obadiah from the throne,” he stated matter of factly, scooping up Morgan and grabbing a cook off a nearby hook. “Brock is trying to help him, but our men far outnumber theirs. You and Morgan are being moved to Kamar-Taj for the night, then into the Asgardian keep.”

“And the lords and ladies?” she stammered out, overwhelmed by his calm demeanor despite the screams and fires outside. She absently took her daughter when Peter passed her off, watching James and Natalia assemble a few more essentials into a small silk bag before passing it off to Peter.

“Long evacuated, the men who wished to fight still remain,” Steve supplied. “Wong and myself will be accompanying you to Asgard. Queen Frigga will provide passage to Asgard once Brock’s troops are recalled from the border and Amora’s mystic boundary is broken.”

“Kamar-Taj has a prepared trunk for you,” Natalia explained softly. “I put it together with Peter a few weeks ago. It should have what you need until you reach Asgard.”

“What about the rest of you?” Pepper’s gaze feel on Peter. “What will you do?”

“I’m going to kill Brock and Obadiah,” he promised confidently. “Overcome and conquer.”

Pepper paused, reaching for his face and cradling his jaw with her palm.

“Your father would be so proud,” she whispered, the brief spell broken when an explosion sounded in the courtyard.

“Magic,” Wong confirmed. “Amora probably summoned her apprentices. We need to move to ensure we are not followed.”

“Be safe, my sweet son,” Pepper kissed his cheek and followed after Wong and Steve, Morgan tucked tightly in her arms. “I love you.”

“Goodbye mother,” he replied, watching the spot in the room until the portal snapped shut and he was left with Thor and the assassins.

“What now?” James asked, peeking through the queens window nervously.

“There’s a passage down the hall that should lead you to the armory. Through there, you should be able to reach Loki and our combined men. Mordo and Stephen have called for reinforcements from Kamar-Taj, and they should be able to fend off magic users while we handle the rest.”

“Asgardian forces will be here by dawn,” Thor promised. “With another wave due before nightfall.”

“Obadiah won’t be missing for long,” Peter continued. “He’s a pig, but not a coward. He will want to oversee things in person, likely with Brock. That’s when we hit them and end this.”

“And Amora?” Natalia quirked a brow.

“Leave that to Loki,” Thor muttered grimly. “He has a score to settle with the Enchantress.”

(—)

You jolted up with a gasp.

The room was dark, but something unfamiliar about it sent the seidr in your veins prickling through the goosebumps on your skin.

Reaching around, you swallowed anxiously. The bed was all wrong. The fabrics not the silks and cotton you’d grown up with. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you realized you weren’t in your bed chambers at all.

A yell and response outside the window had you scrambling to your feet, spying a number of fires burning in the dark sea of land outside whenever you now found yourself.

Your groggy brain ran through its last memories. The assault. The conversation with Stephen.

The sleeping draught.

How powerful had it been?

You looked down at your hands, a faint glow of violet emitting from your hands and up your arms. You’d barely had time to examine it when the door to the room burst open.

“You’re not supposed to be awake-,” Wanda stated, swooping on you and catching sight of the seidr. Eyes wide, she tried subduing the small bit of magic, but the moment the crimson tendrils tried touching the violet, the seidr grew brighter and spread more thoroughly over your body.

“What is going on-?” You reached for your skirts and realized your dressing gown had been changed to a deep crimson formal gown. “Where is Stephen? Where is my home?”

“Princess,” Wanda reached for your hand, but the seidr snapped back at her and she pulled away. “I don’t know what’s happened. Stephen is... I can better explain...”

She looked overwhelmed, her eyes constantly dropping to watch the raw power radiating off of you.

“You’ve been asleep for two days, almost three nights,” she stated briskly, and you shook your head, frowning.

“That’s impossible,” you whispered.

“The sleeping potion Stephen gave you... it was to mimic the effects of death,” she continued softly. “We’re at the main keep for his family. Princess, the kingdom is at war.”

“Wanda, you were supposed to seal it, what’s taking so-,” Loki stopped in the doorway of the room. “Princess.”

He looked as bewildered as Wanda to see you standing and alert. And twice as concerned with the seidr energy coming from you.

“That’s not good,” he stated bluntly. “Amora is going to see you like a beacon in the night.”

“Brock’s men have secured the castle already, if he knows she’s alive-,” Wanda agreed, speaking quickly and tersely with the prince.

“Alive? Of course I’m-,” you paused. Mimic the effects of death. Eyes growing wide with realization as to what Stephen had done, you huffed a sigh. “Brock is still aligned with Obadiah?”

“It’s tentative,” Wanda replied. “But if his Stark bride is alive and well...”

“He’s already calling troops through the Kree empire, and the sea artillery is moving toward Asgardian waters,” Loki frowned, reaching forward and trying to calm your magic with his own. When it spat back at him like Wanda’s, his lips formed a thin line of concern. “Strange’s seal was so powerful I couldn’t sense it, so he isn’t holding right now because of the princess. There’s something else keeping him by Obadiah’s side. This will just soldifiy whatever deal they’ve struck. We need to figure out how to seal the seidr.”

“Could she just learn to control it?” Wanda offered. “I don’t think external means are going to suppress it much longer.”

“Wanda, how long did it take for you to learn to hide your own essence from enemies?” Loki pressed. “We need to locate Stephen.”

Eyes glowing, Wanda nodded and disappeared, presumably to retrieve the sorcerer in question.

“Loki, is my family-?” you started and he nodded.

“Your mother and sister are in Asgard,” he replied. “Peter is...”

“He’s on the battlefield,” you finished with a knowing sigh. “Do we stand a chance?”

“The Wakandans have mobilized and will be sending reinforcements soon,” he explained, gesturing for you to hold out the hand with the seal on your wrist. “Incredible. Your power... destroyed the rune. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“The Wakandans have no loyalty to Peter,” you voiced, furrowing your brows. Are they aligned with Asgard?”

“Well, no-,” he started. “They stand behind House Stark but, there is an important thing you should know now that you’re awake.”

He drew a portal, knowing her couldn’t teleport with your present state, and led you to what looked like a massive dining hall within the same building.

Hundreds of men were resting, some singing ballads and others sharing large bowls of stew and bread.

You looked to Loki for explanation.

Was Stephen hurt? Had your brother perished?

He stood stoically, his gaze falling on the back of a man tending to an infantryman’s dressings. When he turned his head, you gasped and rushed over.

“Father..?” you hesitated, his face was covered in mud, and he’d grown a large beard, but as soon as you saw his eyes, you knew.

“Look who had risen from the grave,” he teased. “Welcome to the afterlife. It’s not quite what the priests suggested-.”

You cut him off, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

“You’re alive,” you stammered in awe. “I... how? They say a pike went through your chest.”

“Oh, about that...” he touched the from of his chest. “Loki is a very skilled healer, and Wanda foresaw that particular complication... it’s a long story, best served for better conditions.”

“The seidr broke the potion’s effects,” Loki stated, looking down at the soldier and waving a hand over his bloodied wound. The wound was immediately cleaned and the soldier’s eyes drifted shut, his chest soon rising and falling in a peaceful sleep. “We’re trying to locate Stephen. Wanda and myself couldn’t interact with her.”

“I see,” Tony looked to you, eyes following the new elements of magic dancing lazily over your upper body. “Certainly the wards around the keep should continue to mask it?”

“For now,” Loki reported. “If Amora approaches too close, it could mean exposure.”

“You knew about all of this as well?” you looked to your father, still struggling to keep up with everything being said and plotted. She turned to Loki. “And you knew he was alive”

“And Wanda,” Loki added. “Natalia, and more recently, Stephen.”

“What?” you blinked in surprise. That wasn’t right. Stephen certainly would have told you.

“We couldn’t risk Amora catching on,” your father quickly sensed your shift in emotion. “She was watching you because of your seidr, trying to tamper with your thoughts. You had to be left in the dark until we knew you were a safe distance from her.”

“Amora is a very powerful magic user who betrayed the trust of my mother and yours,” Loki informed you, his hand tensing at his side. “We couldn’t risk her getting ahead of our plans.”

“That’s going to go to waste if we can’t continue the charade you’re dead,” Tony clarified. “Brock is only barely allied with Obadiah. We have the numbers right now, but if he becomes serious about taking our kingdom, he and the Northern Kree far exceed our men, the Asgardians, the Wakandans, and the Southern Kree.”

“Your grace,” a blonde woman in knights armor approached and bowed her head. You noticed that the blood from the cuts on her cheeks was teal- a Kree. “King Odin is riding for us. He will be here within the hour, ready to provide more men.”

“Thank you Lady Carol,” Tony nodded while the female knight bowed and exited the room. Your eyes trailed after her in a dazed stupor. You’d never seen a female knight before. You’d read that the Kree society was more favorable to the female gender, but you never would have imagined the Kree would let a woman directly report to a king.

“We need Frigga,” Tony sighed.

“We would have to ride to Asgard ourselves. The mystic boundary Amora out on the borders of too powerful, no one has been able to teleport or portal through it,” Loki grumbled.

Tony cursed under his breath and stood, a hand on your back, guiding you through the mess of cots and soldiers. Some were injured, most were just worn from battle and resting until they were called upon again.

Leading you and Loki out of the hall, Tony stopped once he was certain you were alone.

“Only the sorcerers and myself are aware of your situation,” he murmured. “Peter and the queen are none the wiser. We need to keep you within the walls of this keep until Stephen is located and we have our next steps.”

“Can I help at all?” you asked, feeling more like a prized hen than someone who was useful. “I know some healing salves and wound mending?”

“We can’t risk it,” Loki looked to Tony who was considering the suggestion. “One incident with the uncontrolled seidr and that could be the end of us.”

“My sweet, I’m sorry,” Tony pulled your head in and kissed the top of your hair. “It won’t be long until Stephen arrives and we can make a clearer decision.”

As if on cue, Wanda appeared, blood coating her hands and the dark robes she wore.

“Stephen was injured in battle,” she explaine, Loki quickly teleporting with her without another word.

“I bet he’s in the master suite,” your dad mused, a wink in your direction. “He has all of his potions and trinkets in there for emergency.”

You paused, hesitating between leaving your newly alive father, and being by your love’s side.

“I’m needed in a war council,” he answered the dilemma. “We can catch up when the world isn’t burning around us.”

He gave your hand a final, reassuring, squeeze before giving you a quick layout of the keep. You thanked him, promised to keep him updated, and dashed down the halls.

As you hurried, you felt your dress restricting your movements, and briefly considered trousers to be a more apt clothing option for the moment.

It was when you felt the restriction around your legs disappear when you looked down and saw your clothes had shifted. Your crimson gown now crimson trousers, your corset a more reasonable bustier, and a cloth shirt tucked under a matching jacket with the Stark sigil subtly embroidered on the chest.

Stopping in shock at the change, it occurred to you that the seidr had merely been responding to your mental requests.

That, you could get used to. No wonder Stephen and Loki were always ready for balls and events faster than you.

You picked up your pace, rushing through the halls until you found the master suite exactly where your father had told you.

A maid was shuffling out as you approached and you quietly slipped in, doing your best to ignore the blood saturated towels tucked under the maids arms.

“It was a toxic arrow,” Wanda was explained to Loki. “It isn’t allowing the blood to coagulate properly. He’s going to bleed out.”

“I imagine Amora had something to do with this,” Loki murmured, glowing emerald hands hovering just over the gushing wound. “Strange. Stay with us. Stay awake.”

You were discarding your jacket and rolling up your sleeves, moving toward the makeshift apothecary stand while Stephen kept his eyes squeezed in pain.

“If she enchanted the poison or venom before applying it, we should be able to pull the toxins magically, right?” you recalled from a text you’d read during one of the long nights in the observatory.

“I’m trying to, but I can’t detect any traces of magic in the wound,” Loki replied tensely.

“I tried isolating a few drops of his blood to detect any foreign components, but the poison is too powerful. It’s using the body’s defenses in its favor,” Wanda looked rattled, a far cry from her usual, composed, demeanor. “If we had more time, I know I could find the proper antidote, but he’s going to bleed out before then.”

Your fingers hovered over the herbs and elixirs, eyes shut while you considered their words and tried to recall the specifics of what you’d learned under his tutelage.

“Is it actively poisoning his body, or just preventing the wound from clotting?” you asked, your finger twitched toward an herb used to create fiberous seals on wounds from cuts.

“Preventing the cut from sealing,” Wanda reported back, watching Loki try and fall to seal the wound magically. All the rags and bandages he piled ontop of the injury just continued to saturate through. “Bandages are not working. He’s bleeding through everything.”

“We need ice on the wound,” you called out, throwing the proper herbs and liquid into a mortar and pestle. “Shrink the blood vessels and slow the bleeding temporarily.”

Loki’s hand turned to ice and he pressed it on the skin around the injury.

“It’s working,” Wanda called back.

“Clean the area,” you instructed, the paste now smooth and plentiful. You turned and searched the room for extra bandages, finding some by a pile of Stephen’s ripped and bloodied robes.

You passed the remedy and bandages to the sorcerers at his bedside, knowing your seidr would prevent you from making close contact with him. The thought in itself breaking your heart. You wanted to wipe the sweat from his forehead, press a kiss to his hand and promise all would be well.

“Put the paste on the bandages and cover the wound. Keep applying the ice until we can get the bleeding to slow,” you watched Wanda move swiftly in tandem with Loki, pressing the seal to the injury and letting the prince take over applying pressure and ice.

“Princess?” Stephen’s voice called, almost delirious.

“I’m here,” you moved within his eyesight, a smile thrown on your features to conceal your deep worry for him. “What did I tell you about getting shot with arrows, my love?”

“You never mentioned arrows,” he grunted, eyes opening briefly to take you in and closing when he winced in pain. “Next time be more- hngh- specific.”

“Next time don’t get shot,” you countered playfully, eyes falling to the white bandage at his abdomen. Ideally, only a little blood would be able to get through. It’d buy enough time for Loki and Wanda to find a better remedy without letting him bleed out.

“It’s working,” Wanda announced, jumping and moving to the large library of books scattered around the room. Her hands began to glow, her fingers pulling texts off the shelves and discarding them almost as fast.

“Strange, were you injured anywhere else?” Loki asked tersely, eyeing a cut by the sorcerer’s eye. “We need seal all of your cuts, just in case.”

“Face,” Stephen replied after a pause. “Hands.”

Loki got to work, smothering the bandages with the salve and covering the cuts.

“Got it,” Wanda held up a book victoriously. “Antidote will take a few hours to prepare. Loki, you’re going to need to move to the front line. Let Peter and Thor know what is happening. I’ll make sure there’s enough for everyone afflicted.”

“I hadn’t heard any reports of similar circumstance,” Loki murmured, looking back down at the bandage to ensure it was still holding. “This seems personal.”

“To our favor then,” Wanda hummed, summoning her ingredients and moving quickly through the steps. “I will report this to King Anthony. Go.”

Loki disappeared with a flash of light, leaving only traces of smoke where he stood.

“You’re not supposed to be awake,” Stephen realized after you’d seated ourself next to him.

“The seidr had other plans,” you noted softly. “Do not worry, we will address each problem as it’s necessary. You need to rest.”

“Wasn’t I just tell you that?”

“Then listen to your own words, you do often boast of how good your own advice is,” you teased.

He reached for your hand, but you pulled away, frowning apologetically at him.

“The seidr is… it doesn’t like magic-users at the moment,” you explained quickly.

“That’s… unfortunate,” he mumbled, lolling his hand forward and staring up at the ceiling. “Ever the more reason not to die, I suppose.”

(—)

11- a battle cry

TAG LIST (message to be added!):

@ayamenimthiriel @ladynothing

@im-a-bi-disaster-help @idkwhatthisislol

@bluefaeriefury

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mitigatedchaos · 3 years

Text

[anon]

[...] Like transsexualism, antiracism is a deer-horse, a loyalty test. The point is to cull dissidents, not to actually give up any [w]s' wealth or power [...] This isn't to say that the authorities might not lose control of their weapon and have it actually end in [genocide]. But I think they'll prevent that.

I think we're dealing with a kind of emergent ignorance.

Progressives think that if, as a hypothetical, Italians were discovered to be cursed to have bad backs, for some reason everyone would immediately conspire to murder them all. So if we don't know for sure what's causing the higher rate of back injuries to Italians at the Amazon warehouse, we should make sure not to report any information that could be used to make the case that Italians have bad backs.

The problem here is that the next layer of Progressives does the same thing starting with the biased output of the last layer, repeatedly. The last layer are two orders of magnitude off on the numbers, have switched the actors around, etc.

There may be some cynical operators, but the thing they're cynically operating for is probably cash.

A few are able to cut through the layers of bullshit, but they just do step one over again. A net reduction in the bias of the results. (Some of those people say "please stop getting obsessed with this" in increasingly worried tones.)

Progressives seem to have gotten the idea that genocide comes from a belief in "inferiority," so absolutely no one can be allowed to be framed as "inferior," or they'll get murdered.

This may have come from the actions of the Nazis. It might also come from an intuitive sense of the Progressives themselves. E.g. "no one deserves to have a bad back, therefore no one deserves to be Italian, therefore..."

From a more Conservative perspective, if Italians have bad backs, that's their problem. They can just be left to sort that out for themselves.

From a Transhumanist perspective, an Italian with a bad back is just a dude who has had the misfortune not to be provided with an indestructible robot spine yet.

From a more traditionally Liberal perspective, we just propose to measure each person's back strength individually while looking to see if we can develop any back exercises that sort it out.

In order to not be a totalitarian, you must be willing to accept some imperfection.

What makes Progressives worried about genocide is different from what makes me worried about genocide.

As a note, generally, I believe that "genocide" needs to include a component where you are actively killing people, or else so systematically preventing them from doing what they need to survive that you might as well be. This also needs to be at scale. (We can discuss specifics later. For instance, sterilizations may also qualify as a variety of genocide.) So a migration that doesn't involve cutting down the local men from horseback might be an erosion of representation or sovereignty in some way, but it is very probably not a genocide.

I tend to think in terms of, what are the release valves? What are the escape conditions?

First, I think that people don't kill other people just for "being inferior." Does anyone go around shooting everyone that scored less on the SAT than themselves? You have to build a claim. You have to argue that they have collectively harmed you - it works even better if you claim that they're currently collectively harming you and will continue to do so in the future.

Second, this evil should be portrayed as unique - if Italians and Irish and your own guys are all robbing you at the same rate, it can't be solved by genociding the Italians.

Third, the guilt has to be collective - if we must try each and every individual Italian for robbery in a court, what we will find is that most Italians do not commit robbery, and so our attempted genocide will just be messily applying the death penalty to robbery by Italians, which is excessive, but not really the same thing. So we need to argue that all Italians are uniformly inherently robbers, or that all Italians are involved in some kind of conspiracy, or that they're all colluding subconsciously, etc.

Fourth, our claim against the Italians or whatever other group we've trying to get rid of should be unfalsifiable. If we set the condition up that someone can disprove it, someone probably will, because people are willing to spend a lot of resources to not die. To carry this out, we should prohibit any study that might prove the group's innocence, or even cast doubt on their guilt.

As an addendum to the previous: if we actually have to scientifically determine whether all Italians are robbers, not only may it be disproved, but it might take ten or twenty years to really examine properly - long enough for the genocide urge to pass.

Fifth, and this one is important, there can be no valid land claim allowed for the group in question. Even if we conclude that all Italians are inherently robbers, we might still conclude that the answer is to simply separate the Italians from everyone else by either sending them all to Italy (assuming that Italy is legally required to take them and cannot refuse them) or dividing up the country and putting all the Italians in Florida or something.

If there is a valid land claim (to land it's possible to farm), then while it is quite possible that there will be great suffering, it's very unlikely that all the Italians will be wiped out.

Contemporary Progressive race discourse meets all of these criteria. Rather than the Emperor bringing in a deer, calling it a horse, and then throwing out anyone who objects, he has brought in a relatively fearsome-looking wolf, with a mouthful of sharp teeth, and called it a big friendly dog.

If it's working to remove dissidents, it's because a wolf is a legitimately dangerous animal and has no business walking around the imperial court.

But I don't think having this wolf walking around was really planned, except by a small handful of people. (I think a number of them have blinded themselves to the differences between wolves and dogs, but should have had the character to stop and think about it at multiple points along the way.)

To the degree that they realize they're doing this, they're doing so to extract leverage which can be used to demand everything less than the continent.

As for transgenderism, I'm sure many Conservatives feel like Progressives are supporting it to psychologically abuse them, but isn't it a natural corollary to the idea of sexed brain differences, which most Conservatives would believe in? If those exist, there must be some biological mechanism to implement them, which could misfire.

#holocaust cw #antisemitism cw #genocide cw

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laughing-with-god · 5 years

Text

Quarter Quell

Request; Yandere Jungkook, Hunger Games Au

Word Count; 11.2k

Every 25 years there is a Quarter Quell edition of the Hunger Games. Quells mark the anniversaries of the districts' defeat by the Capitol, and include special celebrations. The Games involves some sort of twist that makes them even more disastrous or difficult to compete in, or watch.

The pixelated screen depicted a zoomed-in image of a middle aged man, smiling glamorously towards the camera lens as he held the microphone to his face and proceeded to the next segment of the show.

His fake snake-like contacts glimmered as they briefly ran across the cue card. Then he refocused his attention back to the camera; opening his overly plump and artificially enhanced lips to announce-

“Next we have the infamous brute of a man, District Two’s treasure and voted most likely to win; Jeon Jungkook!”

The roars and cheers of the fashionably rich audience reached a deafening climax when they caught sight of the next tribute to waltz onto the stage.

It seemed that District Two had sent yet another beast this year, eager to slaughter and kill those beneath its’ impeccable strength.

His form was evidence to the intense training he had been subjected to, the muscles bulging with capability yet his body being slender enough to hint at agility as well. He was tall and practically towered over the small host as he extended his veiny hand for a handshake. His warrior like body was clad in black slacks, a white blouse and black suit that was complimented with the embedded images of white flowers, the assemble even had frilly handcuffs to add to a more ‘softer’ look.

This attempt was laughable given the man wearing it.

The host gestured for him to take the seat next to his, the tribute doing so and smiling wolfishly at the audience that continued their vocal support of him.

His face was a mixture of slender and round, all features above his lips being reminiscent of a boyish adolescence while his sharp jaw and smug smile suggested a more grown outlook. His skin was the same color of the fresh snow to coat the grounds during winter, an ode to his Districts’ chore of masonry and making of weaponry in contrast to the other districts whose work lied outside in the fields. Another trait of his home District was the size of his broad body and full face, clearly he had never had to suffer from food outages, a privilege that was starved of the later districts. His doe eyes were bright with life and glowed with the warmth provided by his caramel-colored orbs, framed by inky black eyelashes. His nose was fleshy but impish in nature, charmingly scrunching up as he humored the crowd and host. He routinely licked his lips, keeping them moist and berry red; at times pulling them back to reveal two rows of pearly white teeth. His hair was russet brown and neatly kept, greatly contrasting the host’s green and unruly hair to prove the difference between Capitol fashion and the Districts’ more natural trend.

“Okay. Jungkook. You are a man who needs little to no introduction this year. You’re handsome, strong and the Capitol’s favorite tribute to win the 100th Annual Hunger Games. You even scored the highest with an 11 during the personal assessment test. And your confidence was off the charts given you are the only person to volunteer this year. Please tell us, what was on your mind when you were reaped to join the fourth Quarter Quell game?” The host rambled, gesturing wildly with his spray tanned hands to express the thrill he felt of talking to such an idol.

Jungkook chuckled, pretending he didn’t hear the responding coos of the ladies in the audience at hearing his melodic voice, and proceeded to say; “It’s like a dream come true. I can’t wait to show everyone what I am made of.”

The host clapped his hands and leaned closer to him excitedly, mock whispering, “Between you and me, what do you think of this years’ twist?”

Jungkook indulged his act of ‘gossiping’ and leaned forward to seriously say; “I think it’s brilliant. It’s almost unfair to others how in the bag I have this win.”

“So complete and utter violence is not a problem to you?”

Jungkook smirked, and for a brief moment the innocent allure melted off his face as his eyes darkened. “Why would it be? I’m a natural killer. With or without the weapons.”

Everyone applauded his answer, chanting his name in approval of his bloodthirsty persona. Bets were already being made and the obvious choice was sitting right in front of them. This was, without any reasonable doubt, the winner of the 100th annual Hunger Games.

The Quarter Quell occurred every 25 years, the anniversary bringing a sinister twist to the Hunger Games to remind the Districts of just how much power the Capitol has over them. The 25th Hunger games had the horrendous twist of making each District elect their own tributes, turning citizens against themselves in order to save their own children from the games. The 50th Annual Huger Games had double the tributes, each District sending four kids instead of the traditional two to provide double the murder, the winner of that game being Haymitch Abernathy. The 75th game elected previous victors to make experienced killers the players, the winner was Katniss Everdeen. Now it was the 100th Hunger Games, and the twist was that the tributes would have no help of sponsors, mentors or even weapons.

It would all be hand-to-hand combat.

Bloody and viscous fighting would be the only way to kill.

Brute force and animalistic survival would have to make up for the lack of aid and guidance provided for in previous games.

It was already predicted to be the goriest battle yet.

“I love your personality Jungkook! So determined! May I ask you a question?”

“What is it, Declan?” The boyish tribute inquired the host, leaning back into his seat with suave as he raised one of his neatly plucked brows in anticipation.

“Is there anyone on your hitlist? You know….someone you’re just going to gun for when that cannon goes off?”

Jungkook bit his lip and tilted his head, seemingly pondering the outcomes of revealing this answer to the rest of the world. The camera panned closer and closer to his flawless face as his brows furrowed in concentration, eyes gazed down in deep thought.

Finally he looked up and bored his bottomless eyes into the lens, a fire in his irises and a killer scoff painted onto his face.

The audience waited with baited breaths for his answer.

“Honestly?” He licked his lips and took a pause, as if enjoying the way everyone hung onto his words with frenzied eagerness. “Anyone who messes with District Ten’s Y/n can expect a visit from me.”

A resounding gasp shook the building.

“Oh my! A-Are you saying that she’s your lover?” the host asked after finally getting his dropped jaw to function.

Jungkook laughed, “Something like that, I guess. I believe in love at first sight and trust me….she’s mine.”

You watched the show in horror from your place backstage.

Your eyes welled up with unshed tears as District Two’s tribute began to list off reasons why he loved you on live television.

Your body was frozen to the ground as you felt the already dim fire of hope die down in the depths of your chest.

Your distraught face was glued to the screen, you felt the piercing and ruthless stares of the other tributes as they studied the alleged ‘soulmate’ of the perceived winner, the metaphorical target already being painted on. But you paid them little attention as you watched your downfall play before you, caused by a man you have never even said a word to.

He was...obsessed with you.

It was an inkling suspicion you had before.

But now you knew it to be the dreadful and tragic truth.

(Flashback)

You eyed your costume with a barely concealed face of disgust, the mirrored image before you causing a grimace of disdain.

You were from District Ten.

The main source District Ten offered to the Capitol was livestock and farming, an unglamorous but useful chore that provided the citizens with humble livelihoods and the Capitol with luxurious foods. Unfortunately, this did not translate well into fashion.

The stylist had dressed you in horns and fur; believing it to be ‘refreshing’ to dress you as the cattle and not the ranchers that looked after them. You did admit that it was on theme, but it was embarrassing and even degrading to be dressed as an animal before being slaughtered like one.

You heaved a deep breath and exited your dressing room, approaching the chariot that already held your male counterpart from District Ten.

The Chariot Rides were the first look the Capitol would get of the groomed and dressed up tributes, ogling at their costumes, looks and personalities before the official betting and sponsoring could begin.

You had no mentor to tell you what to do during the ride, so you had prepared yourself for a lukewarm smile and half-hearted waves. You saw no point in acting overly cheerful or happy to be there, you already knew that very little could change your fate.

The horses slowly began treading forward, leaving you trying hard to balance your powerless form as the over-sized chariot pushed ahead recklessly, the roar of the audience welcoming you with a ring inducing ear ache. The colorful and outlandish faces of the ultra rich passed through your peripheral, giving you a glimpse of the monsters who would be watching and counting on the deaths that would occur in the next week.

The booming anthem continued thundering the giant arena as the final two Districts made their way from behind you, the horns and drums only stopping when District 12 finally took its’ place beside the others.

The cheers quieted as the President strode towards his golden pedestal, tapping the mic before leaning his aged faced towards it to begin his annual speech.

“Tributes, we welcome you graciously to the Capitol. We commend your sacrifice and strength to join us for the 100th Annual Hunger Games!”

A brief and boisterous applause.

“As you may know, this game is very special. Not only is it the 100th game, but it is also the fourth Quarter Quell. This game, like any other Quarter Quell, will have a twist that is unorthodox with the previous games we have watched before. Tributes are expected to rely on themselves for survival, meaning no aid shall be given in or out the arena. This means no mentors to guide the tributes, no sponsors to save the day, no weapons to kill and no supplies to help survive.” The President smirked down at the chariots. “Tributes will be expected to fight like animals to win. May this game remind any remaining rebels in the districts that the capitol is still lenient with our punishment, we still could take away much more to make the games brutal for your children.”

The President’s colorless and rumbling voice drowned out as he listed off the basic rules for the tributes to follow during their stay at the capitol. The rules being well known enough for you to feel free to space out. Your mind was swimming in far more doomful thoughts.

You knew that there was something off about this game, it happened every 25 years and the game changer was always the subject of interest for everyone; Districts and Capitol alike. However you as a tribute wouldn’t get the full details until you were at the Capitol to hear what it was from the President himself. But you had a suspicion that it had something to do with taking away tribute’s support system. When you had gotten on the train you were confused to see no mentors to welcome you, only the escort and other tribute were there. This was very disappointing given that mentors were different from anyone else you’d have help you along the way- they actually lived through the games. They were also a key role in creating tailor suited strategies for tributes and gaining sponsors if there ever was a dire situation in which you’d need one.

You foolishly hoped that this would be the only set back to face.

But you never knew just how much the game keepers were taking away.

No weapons or survival bags meant an even grimmer fate for the ones playing the game.

You would have to live off the land.

You would also have to beat someone to death with your own hands if you needed to kill.

You felt your weak form crumble beneath the imaginary weight of your inevitable death. You had no chance to live. The only thing that could possibly even out the scale between you and the other tributes was weapons, strategy, and survival know-how. Without that, this game was basically being given to the careers and any other huge kid who would have no problem bashing someone’s head in. In this horrendous situation you couldn’t even hope for a quick death, hand-to-hand deaths meant bloody and painful ends.

You felt a tear trail down your cheek. Images of faceless kids with huge bodies crowding in to kill you with their own bruised and bloody hands haunted your minds’ eye. Would they strangle you? Kick your ribs until one of them breaks and puntcures your lung? Maybe-

You felt a nudge break your concentration.

You quickly wiped the tear off your face and snapped your attention to your District counterpart; Taehyung.

He was tall, slender and sun kissed due to his job at the ranch of looking after cattle that so many kids had in ten. His face was gaunt and almost intimidating, with his piercing black eyes, bushy and intense brows, regal nose and plump lips that were always in a scoff or blank with indifference. You two had not said a word to each other, the only communication you could recall was him asking you, in a gravelly and bottomless voice, to pass the butter during dinner on the train ride over to the capitol. Other than that, he was silent. You didn’t take it to heart though, you were also not much of a talker given the circumstances you two were in. You figured he was also in a state of depression and acceptance of his death, soaking in the last stimulation of life he could while also drowning himself in his own thoughts.

His eyes dragged towards the spot you wiped off, but they quickly redirected themselves to meet your own questioning stare.

“This isn’t my business or anything but…” He licked his lips and looked out to the other chariots, seemingly seeking something out before he continued his statement. “Why is Two looking at you like that?”

You followed his gaze.

District Two was one of the closest to the stage where the President was talking, but you could spot a single figure who was twisted away from the speech and looking behind him.

District two’s theme was masonry, reflective of their chore of weapon making. Due to this job they had, most of the kids who came from district two had an advantage as they knew how to handle weapons and had basic training with combat. They were the core of the career pact, Districts One and Four usually teaming up with the trained killers to create a deadly alliance. Safe to say, you did not want anyone from Two to point you out in a sea of tributes.

But it looks like you had somehow already got their attention.

His costume was gladiator-like, the chest piece being made out of jagged pieces of metal meant to look like knives and other weapons. He also wore a crown on his head, the silver twisting to look like leaves and plants but was also stained with fake blood. District Two’s stylist always wanted to hint at their team’s brutality.

You studied this costume and finally met the stare of the person.

His eyes were pitch black, the color of a midnight sky free of stars. It wasn’t clear if that was the color of his eyes or if his pupils were just that dilated, as if he was fascinated by what he saw. This assumption wasn’t a far stretch given his jaw was slightly ajar, like he was in some state of shock.

It didn’t make sense but there was no doubt about it….he was staring right at you.

His eyes drank you in, leaving you breathless at the intensity of the gaze, it held a tangible weight that caused you to shiver. His attention on you was so blatant and fearless, you wondered how the other tributes hadn’t noticed yet or if they were simply pretending not to. All of his muscular body was twisted towards your direction, the president and his speech long forgotten as he ogled you up and down. It was like he had never seen such a person before, he was studying you like he would never get another chance to.

Taehyung shifted his body and suddenly you were blocked from the stranger’s line of vision, Taehyung’s much larger frame covering you.

You took a shaky breath, the bizarreness of the look on two’s face was so confusing and it left you questioning what it could possibly mean.

“He’s been looking at you like that since we rolled out of the entrance.” Taehyung said, still blocking you but also managing to keep his eyes on the ranting president to achieve an act of listening.

“.....Maybe it’s because we’re dressed like cows?” You bleakly offered, pursing your lips at your own weak explanation.

“No, there’s more to it. I don’t know what the expression on his face was but it can’t be good.” Your District mate insisted, leaving you with a sense of relief that you weren’t the only one to feel like there was something up.

You nodded in agreement and tried to keep your agony and fear at bay given so many eyes were on the tributes.

Finally the President concluded his speech with a promising but terrifying; “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

“His name is Jungkook, District counterpart is named Joy, he’s eighteen years of age and he volunteered as tribute.” Your overly colorful and dainty escort sing-songed as she presented you two with a tape.

After the chariot ride, both you and Taehyung agreed that you should attempt to figure out as much as possible about District Two. You guys didn’t have a mentor so this meant that you would have to rely on your Capitol escort to provide you guys with information of the other tributes’ reaping.

“So what?” You asked from your spot on the neon monstrosity of a sofa. “Careers from 1 and 2 almost always volunteer.”

“Not during Quells though. Even they are too scared of the unknown twists to just jump in.” Taehyung said from a sofa parallel to yours.

You two silently watched as Vesta began bringing the hologram-like screen to life before popping in the tape of two’s reaping. You were still amazed by the technology of the Capitol, it was far more advanced than anything you saw in the farmlands of Ten.

The HD hologram burst with color as suddenly a slender, skinny but fashionable man was facing the room with a bright smile. “And now, the male tribute.”

Mesmerized, you watched as the unnamed personality skipped to the humongous glass bowl to pluck a name. He held the paper up to his squinty eyes and made his way back to the microphone to announce; “Kane Stelen.”

Before a response could even occur, a boisterous voice interjected to holler, “I volunteer as tribute!”

The camera panned out to see a young man jogging up to the stage, brown hair bouncing with his movement as he bounded excitedly towards the escort. Almost immediately the rest of District Two applauded and cheered for this guy, some even screaming out his name with a sense of pride. He grinned ruthlessly at the camera and shook hands with the confused escort when he found his spot beside him.

“What’s your name boy?”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

He then held his arm up in the air in a victor stance, the crowd going crazier in response.

The hologram suddenly depleted into darkness, leaving you all silent as you tried to dissect what you have all just witnessed.

“He’s quite handsome.” Vesta said in between her sips of bubbling champagne. “I don’t get the big deal here. Why don’t you just form an alliance with him?”

“Because we’re not careers and his loyalty would only rest within One and maybe Four.” You heard the frustration in Taehyung’s voice as he attempted to explain it to the capitol airhead.

“Don’t treat me like an idiot! I may not be a mentor but I’ve seen my fair share of games to know that if a giant tribute from a strong District takes an interest in you, it’s for the best that you use that to an advantage.” The fashionista screeched.

“That interest could be good or bad….most likely bad.” You sadly mumbled, brain still playing over the scene of his reaping.

He was so bold to volunteer for one of the deadliest games. And by the way the rest of his District supported him, you could only imagine how strong his reputation as a trainee must’ve been. He was probably one of those killing machines that looked forward to the games, maybe his parents were the type to make him learn all types of fighting and survival skills. District two tended to make their kids believe that serving in the games was some type of honor, and the gleam in his eyes told you that he genuinely believed that.

“If there’s truly no weapons in the arena, that means the bigger tributes will have the best chance.” Vesta giggled before staggering away, heels clicking awfully against the marble floor. Her fake accented voice left you with one final thought; “Don’t burn your bridges, dearie.”

(Training Day 1)

The elevator was void of any sounds greater than the breaths of you and your District mate, the empty air bouncing off the walls of the enclosed space.

You silently watched as the digital number above the metal doors continued to downgrade, illustrating the passing floors as you two descended to the basement of the training center.

“Remember, today is only about scoping out the other tributes.”

You curtly nodded.

Over breakfast that morning, you and Taehyung made a semi-alliance. You both agreed that two heads were better than one and it would be the smartest course to help each other out to make up for the lack of mentorship. This would only last up until the arena, however. the goal of the Hunger Games was to have only a single survivor, this meant that all alliances would have a turning point of one killing the other (most likely in their sleep or when their backs were turned) and neither you or Taehyung wanted to put yourselves in that situation.

“No talking to anyone, lets just try to evaluate the others and we can see where we are by the end of it.” He had said.

This seemed to be the best option; to keep an eye out on who would be the biggest threats and assess your chances after that. Thus you agreed to Taehyung’s plan.

A sudden ding sounded to announce the arrival to the basement.

You stiffened up and squared your shoulders, plastering on a blank expression as the silver doors slid open.

‘Welcome to the Training Center. Only tributes from this point on.’ A robotic voice sing-songed as you and Taehyung stepped out in unison.

The training center was a giant gymnasium void of any color but grey and silver. The huge layout had multiple different stations for various skills ranging from camouflage, fire making, combat, weaponry, and survival know-how. In the center of such an area was a circle of young people, all dressed in the same fitness attire as you and eyeing each other up with paranoid gazes.

You took a deep breath and strode forward, barely holding back your grimaces as other tributes reacted to your arrival with guarded glances of scrutiny. You planted your feet by the outer section of the circle, far from the center but close enough to still be part of the group. Taehyung stood beside you, arms crossed and eyes staring straight ahead.

You discreetly counted sixteen tributes including you and Taehyung, which meant that four more districts still had yet to arrive. You couldn’t help but search for the odd stranger from Two, and realized with a strange sense of relief, that he had yet to arrive.

You took this time to study the others as you all waited for the remaining tributes. It seemed to be a pretty good mix, there was a lot of older teens but a couple younger ones to even out the scales as well. It couldn’t be helped; the look of utter dread on the 12-14 year old faces, they without a doubt knew that their short lives were coming to an end very soon. The smaller ones would be snapped like twigs by the bigger ones; a sad reality that replayed itself every year.

As time passed, more tributes made their entrance.

Currently there was twenty-two kids.

Only two more to go.

From District Two.

After what seemed like ages, finally the ding of the elevator rang once more, followed by the sounds of footsteps approaching the cluster of kids.

Your back was turned to the elevator and you knew it would break character to turn and face them, thus you stubbornly bowed your head and studied your shoes; ears picking up on the sound of their approach.

You almost choked when they paused directly behind you.

They were standing mere inches away from you.

He was standing mere inches away from you.

Suddenly the back of your neck began to burn as you felt the unnerving weight of his stare piercing into you. Without having to even look back at him, you somehow just knew that his behavior was the same as the day of the chariots; he was studying you with a mystery sense of awe that was beyond rational understanding. Except now he was doing it from a much closer range, you could practically feel the goosebumps on your skin begin to form as you let him inspect every visible cell of you. It was as if you were under some microscope and you had no choice but to let him dissect everything he could about you.

The thundering of your heart got louder and louder as it pounded against your chest, a foreign feeling of claustrophobia caving in on you. The panic was almost enough to make you turn around and confront the intense observer, but this instinct was interrupted as the head trainer began talking.

“Welcome to the training center. As tributes, you will spend the next three days here to prepare for your time in the games. Each station is a stimulation for some of the obstacles you will face in the arena. It’s easy to want to learn all the battle skills and tricks for hand to hand combat, but my advice is to not ignore the survival skills. Statistically speaking, most of you will die due to exposure, infection, starvation and dehydration.” She paused and scanned the faces of the fear-stricken tributes. “Furthermore, communication amongst yourselves is not forbidden but any fighting is and will be met with swift punishment.” An odd gleam glimmered in her eyes as she smirked, “Save those rivalries for the arena.”

And like that, you were all dismissed to begin training.

Before you could even think about where to go, Taehyung grasped his hand around your arm and promptly dragged you to the edible plants station.

The station was a small greenhouse area filled with many kinds of plants, each having a small place card as to what type they were and their status of poisonous or not. There were also books, memory cards and quiz-taking machines for any tribute willing to strain their mind on the process of adapting all this information.

“We can spend some time here, then go to fire and shelter making later.” Your District mate explained while picking up one of the books to flip through. “Plus we have a good spot from here to spy on the combat station.”

You looked directly across to indeed see numerous tributes lining up to take a turn with the trainer. There was open mats and the trainer would talk to them briefly before wrestling with them, you assumed giving them tips before putting them to good use. Then the tribute would be sent to the back of the line as the process repeated itself with another kid.

So for the next hour, you and Taehyung took turns committing the plants to memory and also scoping out the other tributes. From time to time, Taehyung would lean over and whisper District numbers of some tributes for you to keep an eye on. Other than the usual careers, there was a few brutes from other Districts that purposed a threat. District Six had a huge guy, he didn’t look older than 16 but he seemed to be one of the few who could hold his own in the hand to hand combat. You also spotted an athletic girl from Seven who was very agile, well-fed and flew through the rope course as if it was a walk in the park. Taehyung told you to keep an eye out for her and another guy from Eight, who was keeping a low profile at the hammock making station but seemed to be one of the few kids who had an air of confidence about him, most likely due to his strong built.

Due to the Quarter Quell, everyone was avoiding the stations with weapon training, given there wouldn’t be any in the arena so it was a certified waste of time. However you did catch some careers hovering by there, as if they were tempted to just play around with the expensive and new age knives, axes and spears. This made you scoff as their childish antics really pissed you off. What kind of psycho looks at weapons as if they were shiny new toys?

While most of the tributes were scrambling to absorb all the tips they could get, the careers seemed to be having fun. They rough-housed and conversed as if they were an over-hyper friend group. Their relaxed attitude hinted at their experience with training; they probably grew up with similar practices so they didn’t feel the intense pressure the others did. Still it was disrespectful and made the knots in your stomach tighten with anxiety.

Maybe they really were trained killers….

The odd stranger from Two was also in this group, but you tried your hardest not to pay any attention to him. You had a fear that he would take your temporary interest in him as some sort of invitation to talk. Because of this, you kept your focus on the plants but snuck occasional glances towards him. He seemed to be one of the quieter ones of the pack, yet the others followed his lead without question whenever he stalked off to other stations.

“I think it’s time we headed to the fire making station, don’t you?”

You turned around to see Taehyung as he approached you from behind, gaze already set on the suggestion station. You nodded in agreement, plants were already a very bland topic but you beared it your burden knowing that it could be the difference between life and death in a case of starvation. You just hoped that learning how to make a fire was a tad more interesting than this.

The instructor of that station directed you and your District mate to a make-shift camp area. As you sat on the fake logs and watched as the professional demonstrated just how to create a spark, a sight across the gymnasium caused your focus to come to a frigid stop.

The tributes of District Two were leaning leisurely against a wall and staring right at you. Well...he was staring right at you while his partner was turned to him, talking in a rushed fashion and making furious gestures in your direction.

Your heart plummeted.

His face was blank but his eyes were somehow both dazed and ultra-focused onto his target. When he noticed that you were looking right back at him, he raised a brow and tilted his head before pushing his tongue against his cheek.

His counterpart, Joy as you vaguely recalled, followed his gaze to you, her face dropping and posture stiffening in response to your equally stressed expression. She muttered one more thing to him and stormed off, leaving him to wolfishly grin at you, creepily indifferent to anything she had said to him, as he stalked forward.

You nudged Taehyung as the enigma of a man steadily approached.

Comfortable, elegant and seemingly determined, Jungkook plopped himself on a log parallel to the one you and Taehyung shared. The fire reacted to his arrival by bursting into life, the newfound flames painting an orange glow on his charming face and bottomless black orbs.

Apparently the instructor sensed that he should make his leave, he muttered a quick “I’ll go get some more sticks” and dashed off to leave you and Taehyung alone with the intimidating career.

“My name is Jungkook. I’m from Two. And you are?”

The fire cackled as a silence ghosted upon the trio.

He laughed, the sound twinkling and musical as he brushed his hair back to reveal a clear forehead. He propped his arm on his knee before raising a brow. “You know usually when someone introduces themselves the custom is for the person to respond back.”

“We’re from Ten.” Taehyung blankly answered.

Jungkook licked his lips. “Do you guys’ have any names?”

“Don’t see how that is relevant, we don’t even know why you’re here. What is it that you want?” Taehyung’s deep voice was almost as scary as the situation that was unfolding before your very eyes.

“Fair enough. I watched your guys’ reaping and know that your names are Taehyung and Y/n. I was just being polite but I suppose we could skip the formalities if you prefer.” Jungkook leaned forward, the fire causing a most primitive vibe as it highlighted his dark features and made his next words all the more barbaric. “I want to be allies.”

“No.” The reply was swift and brutal on Taehyung’s part, masking your splutter of shock at such a ludicrous request.

“May I ask why not?” Jungkook’s casualty didn’t falter at the answer, most likely expecting it.

“It won’t benefit us. Your motives are unknown and it makes no sense for you to even want us as allies. We’re not careers.”

“Maybe I’m not a muscle head and am thinking deeper about the games than just teaming up with other athletic tributes.” Jungkook argued, small smirk still evident.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’d want us. If you’re looking for smarts or underdogs, there’s plenty of other tributes that fit the bill better than us.”

Jungkooks’ eyebrow did a funny twitch as he smiled, rather fakely with dead eyes, at Taehyung. He without a doubt picked up on Taehyung’s stubbornness and abandoned any hope to convince him. Although he did seem rather pissed about this, he continued on with a forced tone of amicability. “Fine, I’ll count you out then.” He then bored his inky eyes into yours, turning all his attention onto you. “You however still have an open invitation.”

Before you could even open your mouth, Taehyung answered for you; “She’s with me. I’m not in so neither is she.”

Suddenly, Jungkook’s face dropped, lips morphing into a snarl-like manner while glaring furiously at your poor District mate. Long gone was the act of any friendliness, his frustration shined through with a sinister anger. The switch was so fast that you wondered for a moment if you were just imagining it, but by the way Taehyung shifted in his spot you knew that it was very much real. The career then gritted out, “She’d be far better of with me than you.”

“I doubt that.” You couldn’t help but agree with your District mate on this one. For the very short amount of time you had conversed with the odd boy from 2, it was already evident that he was prone to very unusual behaviors along with swift and gruesome personality changes.

“I’ve trained my whole life for this. I think I’m perfectly capable of taking care of her in that arena.” Jungkook was persistent, bewildering you with his unknown mission in becoming allies with you. Why in the world would he want you instead of the other bloodthirsty careers? What did he see in you? And why was he willing to fight Taehyung and brag about his ability to protect you?

“Exactly, you trained your whole life for this. Focus on being the sole winner of this game and leave me and Y/n alone.”

The words hung heavy in the air, echoing in your eardrums as the severity of the situation once again entered the conversation with a pending sense of doom. The theme of ‘every man for themselves’ was all too glaringly obvious. If Jungkook was desperate to win, then how come he was breaking his back to get closer to a girl who he’d have to kill off anyway? Was this an insight to how careers viewed teamwork in the games? Did they approach each other like, “hey no hard feelings but in that arena I will chop your head off when it comes down to it but until then let’s be friends”? Why even bother gathering in a pack if you know that one of them was more than likely your future killer?

Jungkook’s face melted off any emotion as a hard mask of indifference overtook his handsome appearance. He stiffly nodded before standing up to his full height, taking slow but deliberate steps away from the camp.

He was barely out of the station when he halted his stride, glancing over his shoulder to set his somber eyes on you.

“Does he always speak for you?”

The question was clearly directed at you in reference to Taehyung and the fact that you had not said a single word during the whole ordeal.

Your system seemed to shut down now that Jungkook was directly asking you something, all you could do was open and close your mouth as your brain scrambled for what to say.

He grinned, although there was no malice behind the action. It was almost a fond smile as he watched you blush and stutter. Like he enjoyed you being caught off guard by a simple question on his part. This odd response was gone before you could study it, as he turned on his heel and went to rejoin the other careers.

The second day of training was a tad more bearable than the first.

The tributes were not required to round up and wait until everyone arrived to begin training, as soon as one got there they were free to roam to their hearts’ desire.

You had decided to split apart from Taehyung and experience a limited feeling of independency. This was brought upon by Taehyung’s paranoia of the careers.

“That Jungkook guy most likely gave the rest a heads up that we’re an alliance. We should try to stay apart in order to throw them off.” These were the first words to greet you when you stalked over to the elevator after awaking late and missing breakfast.

“Why? Are we in a really bad spot right now?” You had asked.

“Generally careers would want to gun down other alliances before picking off individuals one by one. And from what happened yesterday, I can guarantee that Two isn’t forgetting us anytime soon.”

You had just shrugged in weak agreement and continued the wait for the elevator in silence. The thing was, you didn’t know what you and Taehyung actually were. Sure, you helped each other out but it there was an understanding that come arena time it was every man for themselves. So could it be said that District Ten had an alliance? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that it was very generous for Taehyung to step in the way he had during the conversation with 2. Either that or he was very stupid...too speak so boldly to a career and deny him when matters didn’t necessarily involve him. But luckily he did...you weren’t sure what you’d do if you had to deal with that Jungkook guy all on your own.

So here you were; alone at the camouflage station, trying to paint a tree trunk on your arm whilst also deciphering if this station was even worth the trouble.

You had never been much of an artist so it was proving to be a difficult task to properly get all the precise details of the bark down. It surely didn’t help that you were only allowed to use natural ingredients as paint. You were currently mixing a mixture of dirt and water to create the ideal brown paint, but it was becoming increasingly hard to strike the perfect balance. Too much dirt meant a very flakey consistency while too much water meant a very liquidey one.

“Who the fuck has time to paint themselves when they’re in the middle of a blood bath?” you mumbled in frustration before shoving the paint bucket away in anger.

“I second that notion.” A small and shaky voice called out.

You turned around to see a young boy standing a few feet away from you, holding up a paintbrush as he gestured to his forearm. On said body part was a chalky and sloppily painted on flower, evidence to his shared hatred of the camflogue station.

His round and chubby face smiled nervously at you, most likely regretting having said anything to you in the first place. He looked to be 13 or 14 years of age, frame similar to yours except slightly smaller. His eyes were smiley but looked to be puffy, his plump lips were currently set in a childish pout as he awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Caught off guard, you just nodded and hastily grabbed the rag to wipe off your ‘masterpiece’. Logically speaking, you were aware that this little boy was little to no threat to you, compared to the careers and other scary tributes. However you couldn’t help the fact that your nervous system went into overdrive when talking to tributes that weren’t Taehyung. Call it paranoia but there was no way of knowing this boys’ intentions of speaking to you. For all you know, he could’ve been playing bait for some bigger tributes to reel you in.

An image of District Two flashed in your minds’ eye, causing you to shudder.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I just really need someone to talk to….” He whined as he watched you frantically gather to put the equipment away. “No one will let me near them because they don’t take me seriously as a tribute.”

You froze.

“I know I’m just a kid but...I deserve an ally too, right?”

You felt an involuntary tug on your heart strings as you heard the desperate plea of a literal child.

What was wrong with you?

He was so young and probably faced the lowest chances of winning this game, and here you were; dashing away from him as if he was the big black wolf when all he wanted was a friend. You felt a sudden feeling of disgust in yourself. Did this game really affect you that much that you were quick to turn your back on a helpless boy? Did you now have the same morals of a killing machine career?

You shook your head and turned back around to face the kid.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been really...anxious lately.” You struggled to explain. “What’s your name?”

The boys’ expression of distraught melted into a somber smile as he sized you up and down. Then, when he knew for sure that you were serious about talking to him, he released a tiny giggle and jogged up closer to you.

“I’m Chenle! From District Three!”

The boy was overly friendly and way too trusting of you. But luckily for him, you weren’t kidding when you told him that you would also love an ally. He talked really fast, as if he had countless thoughts bouncing off the walls of his little head and they were all racing to escape his pouty lips. And when he did share a thought with you, a twinkle in eyes glimmered excitedly as if he was getting giddy from just telling you his little ‘secrets’.

You learned that he was thirteen years old and possibly the youngest one here. He was also a big brother to a little girl back at his home district. Chenle had a mother but no father and although he was very scrawny and small, he did very well in school and had more brains than most of the older tributes.

“Remember the 58th annual Hunger Games? The winner was Beetee Latier and he took out a whole pack of careers by electrocuting them.” He told you with a coy smile on his face as his eyes gazed off with a bleak expression. “I want to model my game after that, careers are usually all muscle and no brain. It’s my only hope; to outsmart them.”

You recalled that game. The winner as one of the last tributes standing and he looked to be at odds compared to how big and brutal the others were. Luckily for him, a sponsor aired in some electric wire and he used it to kill the remaining tributes.

You bit the inside of your cheek and avoided his gaze. You didn’t have the heart to interject and point out that the chances of coming across electric wire to outsmart muscle heads was very unlikely. Also this game being a Quarter Quell and it’s awful twist meant that this game was built very differently. Any strategy outside of pure strength was very flawed. There would be no equipment in that arena, and no sponsors either. Instead you focused on much lighter topic of discussion.

“The victor of that game was also from Three, right? Are all kids from your home District little whizes with technology?” you asked.

He giggled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess we have more of a knack for it than any other district. Our school lessons are built around it.”

“That’s really cool! You’re way smarter than any kid over at Ten. Lots of them don’t even continue going to school after elementary.” You praised.

“How come?”

“Most of them need to help their family on the farm so higher education isn’t really needed.” You shrugged half-heartedly.

Chenle nodded and got a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, I never really even gave much thought to other Districts. It’s a shame that I just now got an interest in them.”

You couldn’t help but agree that it was indeed a very awful irony. The very first time that he’d ever interact with anyone outside of Three was when he’d come face to face with the other tributes he’d be thrown into a bloodbath with.

“Oh! You have some paint on your lower back.” The young boy pointed out, interrupting your train of thoughts.

You cursed under your breath, twisting to try and catch sight of the paint but failing to do so. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Chenle grabbing a rag, he then approached you and offered to wipe it off.

You let him.

But this was apparently a very big mistake.

“DON’T TOUCH HER!”

The boisterous holler caused all the tributes in the training center to freeze and turn their attention to the cause of such war cry.

At first you assumed that a fight was breaking out in one of the other stations, but then it occurred to you that the words yelled would have nothing to do with a typical ‘tributes butting heads’ situation.

When you looked up, your heart dropped to your stomach.

Jungkook was hustling forward, head tilted like a bull as his steps vibrated the ground beneath him; like a gladiator approaching its’ final victim. His coal-like orbs were ignited with the flame of fury, and such eyes were set on you and your recent thirteen year old ally.

Instinctively, you pulled the boy behind you as you realized what was happening.

Soon the fuming tribute was standing in front of you and snarling at the innocent but confused babe that you tried to shield with your meager arms.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! You can’t just touch her like that!” He yelled, stepping forward as Chenle stepped back in fear.

“I-I was just helping her get something off.” The boy whined in defense, cracking and prepubescent voice trembling as he spoke.

“Oh please, I know how boys your age think! Tell me something you little freak, were you trying to cup your first feel or something before you’re eventually killed in that arena? Is that why you’ve clung onto her all day?” Jungkook held a spiteful scowl as he taunted Chenle, without a doubt trying to embarrass the boy as well as scare him.

“N-NO! It’s n-not like that.” The pitiful whines were ignored by the career.

There was a brief silence as Jungkook looked both you and the boy up and down, tongue pressing against his cheek in a tick of annoyance.

You held your breath.

“What district are you from?” Jungkook spoke after coming to a mysterious conclusion in his mind.

You felt yourself freeze in dread. You couldn’t bring yourself to say a word so you just watched in horror as this awful predator threatened to swallow this prey alive for no more reason than sheer paranoia and unfortunate misunderstanding. Your eyes began to water, you felt so worthless for not helping in any way. But it was as if there was a force beyond you that was causing you to halt all movement and logical thinking, manipulating you so you were left to watch this awful showdown. The weight of the collective gaze from all the other tributes watching had paralyzed you.

You were forced to watch on.

“T-three.”

Jungkook smirked, handsome face looking ruthless and somewhat satisfied.

“I’ll see you in the arena.”

It was a chilling promise, a signed deathwish from yours truly. Targets weren’t definite in the Hunger Games. Most people killed who they could whenever they crossed paths with someone weaker than them. It was a series of luck, stealth and strength. Very rarely were personal vendettas the cause of killings in the arena; unless revenge kills counted, when someone killed your ally and in return you kill them. But almost never, never, were such hateful rivalries formed in the short period before the games.

And having such a brute like Two promising to gun you down was as soul-crushing as watching your demise before your very own eyes.

With that, Jungkook turned around once again to storm away.

You pretended to not feel the piercing stares of the tributes, each trying to dissect why someone touching you would bring out such a violent reaction from Two.

You turned to console Chenle, only to see tears streaming down his face before he made a dash for the restrooms.

You promised to wait until he got out to talk to him, but the bell rang to announce the ending of the second day of practice.

You left the center in shame.

The third day of training was uneventful.

Everyone avoided you like you had the plague.

Including Chenle and Taehyung.

You didn’t necessarily blame them for putting distance between you and them. After what had happened with Jungkook, it was obvious that the career would target anyone and everyone around you. They were just doing the rational thing of saving themselves, yet it was still heartbreaking for you.

You just wanted to apologize to Chenle, to repay him in any way for what he had to suffer through yesterday. But whenever you attempted to close in on him, he’d become pale as a ghost before sprinting away.

Taehyung remained as stoic as he always had, yet he never pulled you aside or met you with notes in hand like you were hoping.

This was the clear breakage in the ‘semi-alliance’ and you took the hint with grace.

It wasn’t like your relationship with him was going to last long anyways.

Weak and dreary was how you spent the last day of training. You wondered around the stations, thoughtless, depressed and exhausted. You had one goal in mind; stay away from Jungkook. You kept one paranoid eye on him, always making sure to stay several stations away from whichever one he resided in.

Currently you were at the shelter making station, listening half heartedly to the trainer as they presented how to form a pile of sticks into an acceptable hideout. The reason for your lack of interest was due to the looming thought of ‘why bother?’ Any life-saving skill wasn’t going to be learned in a matter of three days, and being under the radar of a psychotic man like Two lowered your chances even further. Today you allowed the purgatory-like fog to overrule you.

Idly you wondered if there was life after death. It couldn’t be helped, the promise of death was right around the corner and your human mind was wrapped up in the unanswered question of if end was really the end. You desperately wanted there to be something, anything, to greet you when you meet your violent and barbarian end. But logically, you knew that absolute nothingness was more likely.

Long ago there was such thing as religion, people believed in a higher power and thought you were either rewarded or punished after death based on how good of a person you were in life. That was before the Capitol took over and erased all institutions that went against what they thought. You learned about it briefly in school but never gave it much thought. But now that you were nearing the end of your short life, you found yourself wishing that some mystical being from above could take mercy on you in the form of a oasis-like place to greet you after your murder.

Maybe there would be-

“Excuse me?” A melodic and womanly voice interrupted your thoughts, causing you to look up and see whom was now standing in between you and the trainer in action.

She wasn’t facing you, instead addressing the shelter-maker with a tone of politeness.

“Would you mind letting me and this girl talk in private?”

The trainer nodded and left the half-made shelter, getting up to approach another tribute who was yards away and attempting their own version of a hide-out. Whilst this happened, the girl finally turned to face you.

It was Joy.

From District Two.

Jungkook’s Counterpart.

Your eyes widened and instinctively you took a step back, hoping to create a distance just in case she was also crazy like him. She noted this paranoid behavior with an eyebrow raise and a roll of her dark eyes.

“Calm down. I’m not him.” she reassured.

You gave her a guarded look, filled with scrutiny and disbelief.

Sure, technically just because someone came from the same District as a douchebag didn’t necessarily mean that they were guilty solely on association. But, Joy still was part of the career pack and by no means should be trusted.

The gorgeous woman was also a visual counterpart to her handsome district mate. She was tall, curvy, with a mature face and sexy features that made you feel insecure about your own. You wondered how the hell she could be in the same age-range as you, she looked to be in her twenties bare minimum. Her smouldering eyes looked around you two, scoping out the area before she grabbed your hand and dragged you behind a fake in-door tree that’s width was large enough to shield you both.

“I don’t have a lot of time and trust me, I’ll be in more danger than you if he finds out I’m talking to you.” She leaned her pale face closer, eyes deeply gazing into yours with an intense seriousness. “Jungkook is obsessed with you.”

“W-what?” You spluttered.

“He’s fucking crazy! I don’t know what it is about you that makes him insane but he snapped the moment he saw you that day of the chariots.” She hush-screeched, extra careful to not draw attention to your guys’ secret conversation.

You couldn’t say that it didn’t make sense. Because frankly, it did make all the sense in the world. However it was still a leap think that someone who you’ve never said a word to could be obsessed with you. You thought he was probably just messing with you, playing mind games with one of his victims before actually killing them. Most likely trying to create an entertaining game for the viewers to enjoy and root for. But certainly not genuine interest.

“Look, when he’s not eating or resting he’s watching your reaping tape. He’s constantly asking our escort to get in touch with your escort so he can try to talk to you. He told all the careers to not touch you. He even asked me to keep an eye out on you during these training days so no one ‘gets too close’.” She said this all in a rush, her face morphing to show the true emotion she felt about her own ally; she was scared. “In the game, he wants to find you and have you join the career pack. He told us that first we have to find you before anything else. I’m afraid you won’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” You asked.

Any aid given from tribute to tribute had to be dealt with extreme caution. There was no absolute way of knowing that some sort of angle wasn’t being played with you. Strategically speaking, Joy could be acting like a friend to earn your trust by using her ally’s odd behavior to her advantage. You couldn’t allow yourself to be played even though every bone in your body told you that she wasn’t lying about Jungkook’s infatuation.

She licked her ruby lips and straightened up, gaining control of her expression and plastering on a look of aloofness. “I don’t know but don’t expect anymore handouts from me. I’m coming to you as a woman. If a boy was doing all that to me without my knowledge, I’d want someone to tell me.”

She peeked out from the tree to make sure the coast was clear before making her wordless leave.

A couple minutes of silence passed as you leaned against the tree and tried to process what had just happened.

Later you returned back to the trainer and asked for more pointers about making a hideout so hidden that tributes will unknowingly walk past it. A new motivation and need to focus ignited within you due to her words rang in your minds’ eye.

‘He wants to find you and have you join the career pack.’

Over your dead body would you ever join those monsters.

But, was Joy different?

By coming up to you to warn you, did she prove that perhaps not all careers were as heartless as you had suspected?

Or was she playing one of her own games?

(Back to interviews)

“And the next tribute we have is perhaps the one we all want to see most.”

The TV personality grinned excitedly at the responding roar the crowd released as they without a doubt anticipated the upcoming tribute.

“Coming from District Ten, coming straight for our hearts….” The man faked looking side to side as if to tell a secret; “And not to mention, District Twos’ heart….”

A brief laughter.

“The gorgeous and lovely- Y/N L/N!!”

You took one deep breath and tried to calm your racing heart.

Without your consent the backstage worker pushed you into the blinding limelight, causing you to stumble onto the platform.

Claps, cheers and screams welcomed you and rang in your poor eardrums as you slowly walked over to the waving host. Luckily you made it to the seat before your legs could give out, but you had to clutch at your overly expensive dress while doing so.

You smiled nervously and tried to mask your upcoming panic attack by focusing solely on the over-zealous host and not the thousands of hungry stares from the below audience. In return, he excitedly took your hands in his and asked; “You’re a sight for sore eyes, dear! I think we can all see why Jungkook is so enamoured by you!”

Your smile faltered for a brief moment before you forced it back on.

“T-Thank you.” You settled on taking the compliment without acknowledging the implications of Jungkook.

But you were a fool to think that there would be a chance that the host wouldn’t focus on the taboo subject matter and nothing else.

“You know Y/n, it’s been over 25 years since the Hunger Games has last seen a couple. Would you mind telling us the story of how you and Jungkook met?”

You gulped.

But maybe this was a blessing in disguise? Perhaps there was a chance that this was your opportunity to clear this whole mess up? Surely telling the truth in front of so many people could untangle the whole misunderstanding.

“The thing is Declan, I’ve never even said a word to him. We’re complete strangers.” Your meek voice sounded laughable even to you but you were glad it was finally said out loud and off your chest.

Declan’s face dropped as a look of shock took over his artificial features.

And then in a blink of an eye it morphed back into a wide smile that revealed his bleached teeth.

“Aww! You must be the coy one between the two of you. I’m guessing Jungkook does all the talking for you. How cute!”

The crowd cooed at this ludicrous conclusion.

“Y/n, I would ask about your strategy in the arena but with someone like Jungkook in your corner I dare say you’re going to be the safest tribute.”

The crowd laughed, amused with the guard dog you supposedly had watching over you.

“No, it’s a misunderstanding. I’m single and Jungkook is not an ally of mine in any way.” You protested.

Instead of addressing you, the host turned to the audience and placed a hand beside his mouth to fake-whisper; “She’s still denying it! We’re gonna get nothing outta this girl!”

There was mixed reaction from the crowd, some more ‘aww’s for you and laughs at the host. You were hopeless to the incoming blush that burned your cheeks, ducking your face in fear that people would consider it a blush of passion and embarrassment and not one of anguish and anger.

“Y/n, there’s no need to be shy. Young love is a beautiful thing! You and Jungkook make the perfect duo for this game, he has the brawn and you must have the brains, He’s the beast to your beauty. The Ying to your Yang!” The host squealed this all while excitedly flapping his hands like a thrilled school girl.

You pursed your lips in an attempt to not snap on live television at the delusional fool who was more concerned with ratings instead of the truth.

“But you know, there can only be one winner.” The solemn hush rang amongst the audience in an instant, the seriousness causing all crowd reaction to halt. “As we know, in the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Katniss and Peeta had to turn on each other.” The host continued while sniffling; “Y/n, aren’t you afraid of that moment when you and Jungkook will have to compete against each other?”

You licked your lips before saying with the straightest face you could muster; “No.”

Interviews with tributes only lasted three minutes.

After attempting to dodge the questions as best you could, you were soon waved off the stage as District Eleven began theirs.

Vesta excitedly escorted you down the narrow backstage hallway and into the Ten dressing room, all the while chatting your ear off about her personal thoughts of your screen time.

“You looked so cute up there! But oh dear, do your social skills need work. You’re lucky Declan knows how to carry one-sided conversations.” She rambled before stopping to open a wooden door marked ‘10’. “Anywho, wait here with Taehyung while I go get more drinks. Those damn Avoxes apparently don’t know the meaning of bottomless champagne.”

You rolled your eyes at the first world problems that occupied her little mind, whilst also feeling bad for the silent slaves that would face her bitchy wrath and irreconcilable alcoholism. You studied her retreating form for a brief moment before stepping into the room and closing the door behind you.

The dwelling was small but efficient; pressed against a wall was a long table filled with expensive finger foods and drinks, an animal-printed sofa in the center and a wall-sized screen that projected the current live show taking place on stage.

The only people in such place were the two designers, whom were talking quietly next to the table, and Taehyung who sat watching the rest of the interviews. Having reached your limit of capitol people for the day, you took a seat on the same couch Taehyung occupied.

He was as straight-faced and aloof as ever, barely acknowledging you in favor of fixating his coal-like eyes on the other tributes as they spoke of strategy with the enthusiastic host.

You couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of your interview, if he felt any sense of sympathy at the romantic propaganda that was pushed onto you. But you and him weren’t exactly on peaking terms either.

So thus you two sat, wordlessly dissecting the bland interviews of District Eleven.

It wasn’t until the entire show was over that Taehyung said something to you.

Vesta had returned and rounded you both up to go back to the suite.

When exiting the elevator and entering the tenth floor, Taehyung uttered a final thought before turning his back to you to head to his room.

These would later be the last words he’d ever say to you.

In his intimidating and bottomless voice he told you; “You’re either the luckiest tribute in this game, or the most doomed.”

(Couple things; I AM open to doing a part two but if I had this in my docs for a second longer I think I was gonna blow my brains out. I do know where I wanna take it in the arena but decided to post it as it is bc I need time to organize the actual battle. Hopefully getting some feedback on this first part can help my creativity. This was orginally a request for a joint blog I was apart of but I left it...however the anon who requested told me they were happy that I was gonna be the one who wrote it and I already had 10+k down so I said fuck it. The gif I had is really similar to the gifs I used for Pen Pal but pls don't drag me I cant find good yandere Jungkook gifs like he’s an actual ball of fluff. Also I need to hire an editor bc omfg this is so shitty it looks like a first draft. But anyway, Please do tell me what you thought of this story and well...issa wrap)

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isolaradiale · 4 years

Text

Welcome to SpiraleFES 2020!

A word of warning first: this is not an event and does not count as event participation towards ranking up. This is merely a bunch of fun activities that persist throughout July and until the next event in August if you’d like to use them for threads.

The city is decorated festively from top to bottom, each and every ward sporting streamers, festive music, and providing a number of fun events. These can be used for threads throughout July and August, and so we encourage you to make use of them for some interesting interaction ideas! The list of events is as follows:

FIBONACCI WARD

NO PLACE LIKE HOME DECOR Do you find yourself missing that touch of something from home you just can’t seem to find in the city, no matter how hard you look? Well, search no more! Around the parks in various levels of the ward are vendors from familiar places, toting those little somethings from where you came from. Finally, you can find some clothes and other household items that aren’t easily accessible here. And if you look hard enough, you may find one of your personal treasures and trinkets that didn’t travel with you--a music box, a locket, maybe a ring from a family member… Don’t worry, it’ll have your name on it. NOTE: Weapons and other combat items will not be for sale in any of the bazaars.

A ROARIN’ BOREALIS SKATING RINK From the city streets, it looks like a bright ribbon of rainbow light, not unlike the famed Northern Lights. But ride the platform up to the top and see that the shimmering lights are actually a massive skating rink, with a figure 8 loop around the upper tiers of Fibonacci City. You can bring your own skates, or visit the kiosk to rent some LiteSkates--which leave a four-foot trail of light behind you in the color of your choice. There are guard rails around the arena, but even the clumsiest of skaters will be alright. After all, if you fall off the arena, a drone will pick you up and put you back on the ring. NOTE: Available during nighttime only.

ANDROID HELL … or the Ofiuco Rave, by any other name. A series of Radiocats seem to have flocked up to the lower floors of Level 3, and any discrimination towards those who seem like they may not belong has been, luckily (though no doubt only temporarily) shoved aside. Is it the Radiocats that set up the series of bright neon, backlit raves that have crowded varying floors on this level? … who knows. What everyone does know is that they’re certainly jamming out to some, as they say, “sick beats”, and large crowds have been drawn to the fluorescent party. It may be hard to move from place to place, but with the technology here being what it is, if you can see through the strobe for long enough, you’re bound to enjoy yourself! Ofiuco certainly is. NOTE: Ofiuco is immune to all attacks, charms, and other phenomena

CRAFT PUNK Outside of Fibonacci’s towering skyscrapers, nestled in the resident district, is an event with tinkerers in mind. Blending with the steampunk atmosphere is a foundry where your muse can learn the arts of robotics and machines. Classes range from building your own remote-control cars to making toys and household appliances (you know, like those little circular vacuum cleaners? Or a Super Toaster?) For those of you who are particularly adept in the art of machinery, you can enter the Scrap Battle Showdown--a competition to make a battle robot no bigger than a 3ft cube using only the supplies available in the foundry. If you’re caught using any materials from home, you’ll be kicked out!

ZERO G’S, ZERO CARES Ever wanted to go into space to do all the cool astronaut stuff, but not go through the rigorous education and training? This event is for you! Walk through the doors of this massive dome, and you enter a zero-gravity playground, where you can zoom around and float to your heart’s content. There are various pieces of equipment and toys you can rent out and play with, as well as anchored structures to hang off of. And when you get hungry, just visit the astronaut food vending machine!

COTES WARD

PIXIE PERFECT TREASURE HUNT The pixies of the Airaisal Forest have decided to cooperate with outsiders for a one of a kind event. Search the forest with an enchanted teacup pig with a nose for a very particular treasure: rare, golden truffles. Amass five to be awarded the equivalent of 200$ in Dust. But give up, or lose your teacup pig, and you’ll be spending the rest of your day as a fox kit as per pixie punishment.

OPHIUCHUS TREE TOWER Scale the gigantic tree that rises high against the cityscape with an alraune guide. The plant person in question will create a staircase of leaves around the tree’s trunk rising upward, allowing you and small group of friends to traverse the tree in a way normally impossible. Once you reach the canopy get ready to enjoy a one of a kind picnic lunch while you overlook the island from the most magical of vantage points.

NERF JOUSTING Rent a horse from the Market Town coliseum and take up arms against a number of opponents. Well, take up soft foam arms. Experience what it’s like to joust without any of the immediate danger. *any wounds accumulated via falling off your horse will be immediately healed by a fairy.

MAZE BY PIXIE LIGHT An elaborate garden maze illuminate by magic lights provided by the pixies of the village. This event only runs at night and can only be experienced in pairs, but the prize for success is a doozy: a crystal flower that is traditionally exchanged between pixies meant to promise themselves to one another. Receiving this flower as a couple is a promise to remain at one another’s sides through thick and thin.

CANDLE LIGHTING FOR THE LOST During the night, the river that flows at the base of Ophiuchus comes to life with tiny lights as the alraune have arranged a way to send off the fallen, giving any who want one a tiny flower raft with a candle resting upon it. Placing this raft on the lake while considering well wishes for a resident of the city has since left is thought to bring them good fortune… wherever they are. Though in a realm where death isn’t permanent it can also be used to give well wishes to even the living, perhaps someone you know that’s having a hard time.

STAR-DEN TEA PARTY The stars and planets are always so far away, aren’t they? Well, in this outdoor star garden, you’ll be able to walk through paths with lots of little glowing stars and planets--you may even find your home planet drifting in the cosmos! Each star, comet, cluster and planet can be interacted with, with the biggest planets only reaching the size of a beach ball. Letting go of the celestial body will have it simply float gently upward to begin drifting again.The event is catered with a variety of teas, coffees and cocoas, as well as sandwiches and little finger foods. Bring a blanket and gaze at them drifting by! Note: This event is only available when the sun goes down!

GOLDEN WARD

REFRESHING FRUITS A boon of the token fruits of summer. At sunset, the beach’s parking lot transforms into a cute little market selling and showcasing everything melon! Vendors selling melon-themed snacks and drinks ranging from fun to wacky, melon carving contests, melon-themed clothes and other commercial goods, and lots of activities and games... And melon plants, of course! There's bound to be something for everyone.

NOBODY’S BORED! WALK The Boardwalk is offering free admission for the duration of SpiraleFES! Not only that, but it’s open until midnight instead of closing solely at nightfall, and at 10pm each Sunday there’s a fireworks display. With a variety of little games and activities with fun prizes to be won, there’s a guarantee you definitely won’t be running out of things to do any time soon! Drop by at 6pm any night for a free barbecue.

CRUISE CONTROL FOR COOL A cruise ship has docked, decked out in festive banners and balloons for the festivities. Open Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with free admission and free souvenirs, there’s a different themed activity on each of those nights! Monday night sports access to the ship’s nightclub, Wednesday sports a murder mystery starting at 8pm, and Friday sports a series of different escape rooms once the sun sets! The cruise ship may or may not be decked out solely in a variety of golden decorations, however.

THE CHILLIN’ VILLAIN A nightclub and lounge has mysteriously popped up on the border of the shadier part of Golden, and goodie two-shoes need not walk through its doors. With a temporary in-house ceasefire, all sorts of villains and antagonists are welcome to share a drink, a dance, and tell of the heists and plots they've devised. And if you'd rather keep your identity hidden, masks will be provided to you at a cost (it's a villain's lounge, not a charity!). NOTE: The ceasefire is mandatory, and all weapons and powers are deactivated upon entering the building

A FOAM-IDABLE FOE Out further into the ocean are a few obstacles, rafts and arenas. On the beach are your weapons: foam armaments of every shape and style--everything from foam swords to guns that shoot foam darts to foam shields and battle-axes. Your task is simple: knock your opponent(s) or opposing team(s) off the platform and into the water using your sick new foam gear. Think of it as a… Foam Battle Royale!Want a challenge? Some of the arenas equalize the strengths and defenses of its challengers, making even the most powerful Isolans only as strong as the weakest contender on the arena. Note: For this event, your combat powers/items will be rendered ineffective!

ARCHIMEDES WARD

ARTE FESTE (MULTIFACETED) All creative minds are welcome to join this massive booth dedicated to arts and crafts. All sorts of classes will be held over the span of the month--from common forms of painting and pottery to the unique art forms of metalworking and glassblowing. Whatever you create in the booth can be taken home, given to a loved one, or sold at the vendor’s tent. Any necessary supplies will be rented to you, but if you break it, you buy it. If performance arts are more your thing, stop by for any of the open mic sessions held at Calliope Theater. NPCs will be hosting plays and short skits that you may be dragged into as an unfortunate audience member, but citizens of Spirale are encouraged to take the stage and wow the crowd with words! Comedy sketches, poetry, and any other magnificent talents of yours are welcome at the stage! Please pay no attention to the guy selling tomatoes to throw. He doesn’t work for us. We don’t know where he came from.

TOO POOL FOR SCHOOL The Water of Styx, while always open to the public, has been decorated much like the rest of the wards. An assortment of pool toys and games have been set up and laid out for all to use as they see fit, including but not limited to some of the largest pool noodles you’ll ever see, a variety of pool floats in all shapes and sizes, and a volleyball net set up toward one end of the pool for all to enjoy a game. Refreshments and snacks provided! Some of the smaller pools around the ward have similarly been decked out in a multitude of fun pool supplies, but not nearly to the extent as the Water of Styx.

FLASH FASHION (THE DEPARTMENT WOULDN’T LET US NAME IT “FLASHION”) Highlighting the summer fashion scene is this joint-event, perfect for participants of all levels of experience. Those skilled in the art of the cloth can showcase their designs both on mannequins or in person in the display booth. There are all sorts of categories to enter your pieces into, so don’t be shy to show what you’re made of! Those that have an eye for photography are encouraged to come and snap some photos of the spectacle; the fashion, the models, the contestants--even the guests! The display booth has a wireless printer and a corkboard for pinning your snapshots to. For those of you who would rather keep things fun and casual, there’s a photo trail with plenty of fantastic views of the ward to take that sweet, sweet selfie in.

CANDY CAMOUFLAGE So, yeah, it looks like a typical home goods store. But don’t be deceived! Many of the objects you’d typically find in the store--furniture, pillows, curtains and more--are completely edible! Even then, the tastiest candies and chocolates are only for the bravest and most adventurous tasters. A treat can be hiding anywhere--a clothes hanger, a ball-point pen, a mannequin, the wallpaper… Just be careful not to crunch on a real object. And if you do, there’s a dentist down the street. The event resets at midnight each night and the store changes daily, so every experience is different!

THE INTRASPACE

SPIRALE DOUBLE DASH!!: PAINBOW ROAD For a limited time, kart racing is available at the Intraspace hub! Go solo or grab a friend, customize your ride, and ride like the wind! The rules are simple--complete three laps around the circuit and try to finish in 1st place. But these aren’t your ordinary courses, and things get pretty… wild. There’s no rule against sabotaging your opponents, either. So better watch out…! Don’t worry--if you completely total your kart or fall off the edge of the track, you’ll be safely transported back to the Kart Lobby to try again in another round! The better you do in races, the better you can deck out your uniforms and kart.

#spiralefes

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therealcalicali · 4 years

Text

Apple Thief

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff and even more Angst

Type: One Shot

Wordcount: 7,003

“Y/N! You need not go.” Your ailing father called out from where he was sat by the fireplace. Though you lived in a cramped quarter, the main room was always the warmest. And due to his injury, keeping his temperature up was best. “From the looks of things, a storm is brewing. Did you hear me, Buttons?”

With a smirk you threw his cowhide overcoat atop your woolen pullover. It wasn’t as nice as the fur-lined cloaks most girls wore. But it kept you warm despite being unfashionable. After grabbing your gloves, you bounded into the main room. Peering out the window, you realized the skies were indeed overcast.

However, you couldn’t stay home.

Rain or otherwise, you had to earn some coin. Especially since the sum your Uncle left was depleted. He had given all he could before leaving for a nearby town to sell his wares. And since you had no inclination of when he would return, you had to be resourceful.

“Just look at you, Buttons….” Your father exclaimed as he did his best not to chuckle. “You look like someone cast a shrinking spell upon you.”

“The coat may be ill-fitting, but it’s warm. So, if you keep taunting me, I might never give it back.”

“Please, stay.” He said as his smile began to fade. He then pointed his walking stick in your direction. “As my only child, I have no desire to see you fall ill.”

“Papa, I cannot sit around hoping Uncle is on his way back. He is far off, and your medicines are finished. And what’s more, we are in need of foodstuffs.”

“We are not.” Your father countered. “What of the red yams and potatoes? We can get by cooking them with cabbage and carrots.”

“First off, we have two red yams and no potatoes. And as for cabbage and carrots, I used the last of them in last night’s stew. So, like it or not, I must venture out.”

“It’s times like these I wish we still had our chickens. The eggs would bring in good coin.”

“Don’t fret, Papa. I’ve been saving what Uncle gives me for my upkeep. I intend to buy at least four of them. Soon, we could even own a nice milking cow again.”

Your father’s gaze went to fireplace.

He was a proud man, and it truly hurt your soul to see him dejected. But it made sense for a former Kings’ Guard to feel inadequate. At one time, your father provided a very posh lifestyle for the family. But once he was maimed in battle, he was forcibly discharged with a paltry severance. Once that was spent, your father had no choice but to start using what had been saved.

As expected, hardship followed. So much in fact, your mother decided to abscond with the little coin that was left. That was nearly three years prior. But for you, the betrayal felt like it had occurred only yesterday.

“Papa, please do not guilt me going outdoors.” You said, walking to him and taking a knee. “If I promise to come home should the weather should take a turn, would that ease your mind?”

Reluctantly, your father nodded.

“And take my dagger.” He said, pointing to the table nearest the front door. The weapon was a magnificent piece of military craftsmanship. Something only most decorated of fighters were ever bestowed. Still, your father wanted you to have it. “From now on, it is yours.”

“But Papa, that is a relic of your service. You earned it with much blood and sweat. I cannot possibly think of wielding it. Besides, it’s far too valuable to be taken out of the house.”

“Y/N, the only thing of value that I have, is you.”

You couldn’t help smiling. After sheathing the dagger, you informed your father that you would soon return. As you exited the cottage and approached the stables, you were suddenly filled with great hope.

You made your way to the town square on the back of your Uncle’s trusty steed, Moss.

Being a thoughtful man, Gadin left town in a hired wagon so you would have transport. So, as you tied the horse to a wooden post, you gave him a soothing pat.

“Have no fear, boy. We shall not stay for long.” You said before reaching into your leather satchel. After grabbing a handful of apple slices and oats, you fed Moss. “Well, things are really bustling today. No doubt I will make some coin.”

And you had good reason for being confident. Aside from the handmade gloves you made, you intended to sell some jewelry. The silver necklace and earrings had been intended for your mother on her Naming Day. But since she abandoned the family prior to him surprising her, your father passed them to you.

When Moss suddenly whinnied and stomped his hooves, you grabbed hold of his bit.

With that, you turned on your heels and began walking toward the marketplace.

Trade was truly flourishing because you had never seen so many foreigners in Stillwell before. But it was a good sign. It meant that soon, there would be expansions and all the other benefits that came with being a thriving village.

“Move your corpse, jackass!” A gruff voice bellowed.

When you turned to see who had spoken so rudely, a grey-haired elderly man pushed past. He was in such a huff, he nearly knocked you over. It was enough to make one angry had it not been so amusing.

Because though he appeared exceptionally frail; the man hauled his cartful of wares with the strength of twenty men.

“Magic.” You mused. “Everyone that wields it or buys it, is a nuisance.”

Suddenly, something else caught your attention. From the corner of your eye, you spotted a foreboding man cloaked in black. Naturally, this piqued your curiosity. From what you could assess; the armor signified his status as a formidable warrior. Likely a mercenary or something along those lines.

You knew this because the symbol that hung from the stranger’s neck didn’t appear to belong to any King.

When you noticed the tufts of white hair peaking from his hood, you promptly realized he was no mere mortal. Mostly because such a hue was not be found amongst your kind. As he walked, the stranger behaved as if he didn’t wish to be amongst people. But despite this, he had a traveling companion. A pleasant looking fellow who seemed to be relaying information in a lively fashion.

“Those two cannot be from any of the nearby townships.” You mused. “Perhaps they hail from some of the wealthier domains.”

Realizing that you were getting distracted, you returned your thoughts to selling your wares.

As luck would have it, your devotion to Ryrdohr, the God of Wonders, paid off.

Not only did you manage to unload your mother’s earring and necklace, but the silver merchant gave a fair price. Mainly, at the behest of his partner. As you were haggling, the man had taken one look before exclaiming that you reminded him of his late niece. For that reason, he forced his miserly friend to cough up more coin.

What you received, eighty Denars, was equal to a month and a half worth of wages. Thus, you were feeling quite blessed as you walked down the pathway toward The Bargainers Lot. It was where people that didn’t own traditional stands or storefronts conducted business.

As you passed a barrel-lined walkway, you heard a faint whistle. There, stood only yards away, a shabbily dressed boy, no older than twelve beckoned.

“Lass, might you have any food to spare?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder before looking at you again.

“Do not take me for a heartless person, little boy. But why ask such a thing whilst standing in an alleyway?”

“Apologies…….” He said as he rubbed his hands together. “But I must take care. I do not want the Sentries to see me begging. They are quite rough with street children these days.

Your father was right. It did appear that a storm would soon come. For that reason, you wished to give the child something. Enough to buy some food and even bestowing a pair of the gloves you intended to sell.

However, you had no desire to enter the alleyway to do so. After all, nothing good ever came of venturing into secluded places.

“If you want food..…..” You said, reaching to your coat pocket and producing eight Fenning. It was coin to buy two meat pies and some peach ale. But the boy needed it far more than you. “I am willing to be of help. But you must come here and------”

The first shove cut you off midsentence. But the second swiftly knocked you to the ground.

Before you grasped what was occurring, you were set upon by three other children. As you struggled to unsheathe your dagger, one kicked you in the shoulder as another seized your satchel. Infuriated, you quickly realized that you had to fight back or risk losing everything.

“I am being set upon by bandits!” You screamed. “Help!”

You had expected your words to bring someone to your aid. But after a few seconds, you realized it was for naught. In Stillwell, as in most townships, people preferred to keep to their own affairs. That meant unless a Sentry happened upon the attack, you were on your own.

When you rolled onto your back, you managed to break the buttons on your coat. With shaking hand, you finally unsheathed your father’s dagger. Taking note of this, the three children stared, wide-eyed.

“Now, you little monsters! Return my belongings before I cut your throats.”

“You will do nothing of the sort!” A raspy voice countered.

Peering into the alleyway, you spotted the owner. A man with a crescent moon upon his left cheek was now stood next to the boy that had beckoned you. Only a foot away, a fiery-haired woman aimed an arrow in your direction.

“Let’s kill her and be done with it.” She suggested.

Mercifully, he didn’t seem eager to comply. After pondering a moment, he motioned for one of the children to take your dagger. Alarmed at losing your father’s prized weapon, you pointed it menacingly.

“If you prefer, we can kill you and take it, all the same.” The man threatened.

From his tone, it was apparent that he was not simply mincing words.

He spoke very much like an experienced butcher. Still, you could not compel yourself to hand the dagger over. As the three children stared wearily, awaiting their next directives, everything suddenly went black.

“Aye, she finally returns to the living.” An amused voice announced.

As your vision adjusted to the light of day again, you winced. For whatever reason, a dull pain within your head became more prominent. Indeed, even looking at your surroundings proved difficult. Still, you managed to lift yourself off the bench and sit upright.

Since the pressure seemed to be concentrated at the base of your neck, you attempted to feel it. However, a hand swiftly caught you by the wrist.

“Do not go touching the wound, jackass.” The old man commanded. “You’ll only smear the Black Mares ointment that’s been applied.”

“Wha…………………where did those children go?”

“What children?”

It was then you realized whom you were speaking to. The old man tending you was the very same one that had nearly bowled you over. For whatever reason, he was the only person that came to your rescue.

“Sir, did you happen to see which direction those bandits went in?”

“I do not know what you speak of. But here is your eight Fenning.” He replied, shoving the coin in your palm. “It was scattered about your person when I found you.”

“But what of my satchel? Those people took everything!” You exclaimed as all that had occurred came to memory. “I must find a Sentry.”

The old man cackled as if you had said the silliest thing in the world. After stating that the Sentries did their job well, he added that they only did so for the affluent. However, someone of your caliber would have to pass coin to their hands.

“And from the looks of it Lass, you hardly have enough to sway them.”

After securing the kerchief to your head, he practically jumped his feet. You could only stare in astonishment as he then took hold of his loaded cart.

“But sir…………I have not even properly thanked you.” You said, scooting forward on the bench. “At least take this, for your trouble.”

The man eyed the four Fenning in your hand before sneering. With a gruff tone, he advised that you keep it. Adding that he did not assist you because he lacked the means to care for himself. Apologetic for offending him, you stated that you had not intended imply such a thing. Nevertheless, he had already begun walking away.

He moved so swiftly, you could only shout words of gratitude as he disappeared into the crowd.

As you entered the small shop marked ‘The Long Caravan’, you pulled your coat closer to your body.

The light rain had already begun. Thus, you knew you only had a short time before the full gale set in. Though you had been robbed, you simply couldn’t go home empty handed. Especially without your father’s necessary medicines. So, if nothing else, you meant to buy the herbs.

“I accept no beggars in my establishment.” The snobby shopkeeper announced upon seeing you. “The soup house is down the road by the Great Sawmill.”

Incensed at the insinuation, you glared at her.

She then snapped her fingers at her young assistants, ordering them to set down two massive bags. One marked ‘corn’ and the other, ‘oats’. And that’s when you saw him by the Alchemy portion of the shop. The massive stranger clad in black. Even now, he appeared disinterested in his surroundings.

This was quite peculiar since he was apparently making purchases. But as for his companion, he was gingerly conversing with the shopkeeper’s husband.

“I said, no beggars!” She said once more.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not one!” You fumed, tired of her relentless assumptions. “I’ll have you know I’m here to purchase medicines. Or do you no longer take coin?”

Distracted by your words, the more jovial of the strangers stopped chatting.

He then leaned against a banister and folded his arms over his chest. Pardoning herself from the cloaked stranger, the woman sized you up before asking what you required.

“Four packets of Pearl Moss, two packets of Lakebarberry Leaves and four packets of Sour Quassia”

Despite wearing a spiteful expression, the shopkeeper went behind the counter. She then began measuring things out as you glanced around the shop. It was then you noticed the sizeable fruit display. From dragon pears to apples, there was good variety available.

“I’m so famished. I hope there is something left over.” You thought, pulling the eight Fenning from your pocket.

When you realized you were being watch, your head jerked in the direction of the white-haired man. At first, he appeared to be looking directly at you. But as you studied his expression, it became clear that he was looking past you.

Taking notice of his fascination, the shopkeeper’s husband went to him. He then began explaining that they had purchased the mounted head on the wall from a passing tradesman. As always, the stranger remained quiet. But suddenly, he actually glanced at you for the first time.

“Demon eyes.” You thought. “He is no mortal. Of that, there is no doubt.”

“That will be twenty Fenning.” The shopkeeper announced. “And do not dawdle, girl. I have other customers.”

You sighed. Apparently, the cost of herbs had gone up significantly since the last time. Placing all you had upon the counter, you eyed the woman.

“I……………I only have eight. However, look at these gloves I’m wearing. I made them myself. Pure cowhide with rabbit fur lining. Surely, they are worth the remainder.”

“Does this look like the trade-in post?” She snapped. “Either you have the coin, or you don’t.”

With tense jaw, you asked that she remove two satchels of Pearl Moss since it was the most expensive. But unexpectedly, the nicer of the two strangers walked over. After asking the woman to wait a moment, he looked at your hands.

“I know a lady that would really fancy those.” He said with a smile that reached his eyes. “I’m Jaskier, by the way. Nice to meet your acquaintance.”

Though your day had been nothing but terrible, you couldn’t help giving a smile in return.

“Y/N.” You replied, shaking his hand.

You then removed the smartly made gloves and set them down. When you asked if he was truly serious, Jaskier nodded firmly. After placing twenty Fenning on the counter, he took possession of his wares.

“I now have my gloves, and you, have your coin,”

Utterly beside yourself, you couldn’t help thanking him several times. Truly, he was an answer to your silent prayers. Such a show of kindness not only lifted your spirits but gave you a more optimistic outlook. While the moody shopkeeper finished tying the bundle of herbs with twine, Jaskier informed you he was a Bard.

A renowned and much sought after one, at that.

“You?” You exclaimed in astonishment.

“What’s the matter? Do I not look the part?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that you appear……..………you know….”

“Appear what?”

“To be quite honest. From your style of dress, I swore you were a Lord or something of the sort.”

From nearby, his companion made an odd grunt.

“Pay him no mind.” Jaskier said, looking in his direction. “He isn’t known for his manners.”

“If you take your time, I will leave you.” The cloaked man replied, ignoring the insult.

Though his tone of voice was cold, there was something within it that held some humanity. Perhaps, the Bard was his charge.

“Is that man your Hired Sword?” You asked.

The question sent Jaskier into a fit of laughter. However, his companion was not amused. In fact, he appeared meaner than he had been already. Leaving your side, Jaskier went to the shopkeeper’s husband and pointed to the waterskins.

It was then the woman finally handed you the satchel of herbs.

As you walked to the middle of the shop, you realized it was now raining quite hard. Not wanting to get your purchase wet, you opened your coat and pushed the satchels into the inner breast pocket. After closing the flap, you were buttoning your coat when the apples caught your eye.

Though you had eight Fenning left, thanks to Jaskier, you had not desire to spend it. So, as the storeowners busied themselves with their wealthier patrons, you began slipping a few into your coat. But as you finished taking the sixth and last one, the woman swiftly rushed over.

“Thief!” She shrieked, grabbing hold of your coat immediately. “I knew you were trouble from the moment you set foot in here!”

Though you were caught, you wished to turn the items over yourself. However, the shopkeeper refused to let go.

“I’m no thief!” You protested. “At least…………………….not really.”

“Not a thief, she says! Well, we shall see about that.” The woman mocked, holding your coat more firmly.

She then began shaking the fabric until the apples started coming lose. One by one, they soon dropped to the ground at your feet.

“Hmm. The girl is either an apple tree, or a thief.” Geralt remarked.

He then picked up the bags of corn and oats and hoisted them over his shoulder. As he walked to the exit of the shop, Jaskier stared at you and the shopkeeper. From his expression, you could see he felt your humiliation.

Thus, you averted your gaze.

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelled as he departed into the busy street. Though it was now raining, he made no attempt to seek cover. “Geralt! We cannot leave that poor girl to that woman. She will likely report her to the Sentries.”

“Why do you care?”

“Well, the laws against theft in Stillwell are harsher than in most townships. And she appears quite sweet……….……………. but desperate.”

Geralt scoffed as he kept to his path.

Nevertheless, Jaskier refused to give in. As he tried to keep pace, he confessed that he felt compelled to help. And if he had to convince the storekeeper and her husband alone, he would return to the shop.

“Then, go.” Geralt replied. “But remember, I will not wait long.”

“I swear, Madame, it was not my intention to take from you.” You said apologetically. “I had a great deal of coin a short time ago. However, I was robbed of it, and the rest of possessions. It’s the only reason I didn’t wish to spend the little I have left. That’s the truth of the matter.”

“Do not give me your sad tales.” The shopkeeper snapped. “When the Sentinels come, you may tell it to them, if you like.”

Just as you were about to drop to your knees and beg her mercy, Jaskier returned. With damp hair, he walked over and looked the woman straight in the eye.

“Allow me to pay for the value of the apples, plus a little extra for compensation.” He said. “Surely, that ought to be enough to allow the girl to leave peaceably.”

It sounded like a reasonable solution. But to his astonishment, the woman refused. After stating she was tired of your “type”, she added that you had to be an example.

“I cannot have every thieving liar thinking my shop is a free market. She must be turned over to the Sentinels.”

“Madame, have mercy.” You implored. “I cannot be away from my father for days on end. He is a cripple. If he is left alone, he could fall ill or even worse.”

Jaskier’s expression went soft. The revelation only made him more determined to be of help. But no matter how much he argued your case, his words fell on deaf ears.

“Natasja.” The shopkeepers husband said as he approached. “The girl seems genuine. Besides, she didn’t take anything of true worth. Only food. It’s obvious that she meant no real harm.”

Despite his attempt to defuse the situation, his wife proved hardheaded. With a hand still grasping your coat, she informed both he and Jaskier that she had already sent one of the shop assistants to fetch a Sentinel.

And thus, the four of you waited.

Whilst the time passed, the shopkeeper’s husband stated he would not give a statement. In fact, he wanted no parts of anything should the lawmen ask anything of him. Still, his wife didn’t seem moved.

“Bastien, if that is what you wish, so be it. But I will make sure this girl is made an example of. I will not become a target for every poverty-stricken bastard.”

“How dare you! I’m no bastard!” You seethed. “My father is an honorable man. He was a King’s Guard in Narin.”

“Ah, King Jethofius.” Jaskier mused with an impressed expression. “It’s said that he only commissions the most-skilled.”

“Most-skilled.” The shopkeeper repeated with a chuckle. “You keep listening to her tales.”

Angered by her flippant attitude, you countered that you spoke the truth. Not just about your father, but about being robbed earlier in the day. But none of that mattered. Because it wasn’t long before two well-armored Sentinels entered the shop.

“That is her.” The young worker said, pointing you out.

With annoyed expressions, the two men walked over. After politely acknowledging everyone, they looked you over.

“Your boy tells us that you caught the thief in the act.” The taller of the Sentinels said. “What did she take.”

“Apples.” Jaskier interacted. “Simple, ordinary apples. Hardly anything to take you from your patrol.”

The shopkeeper cut him a mean glare, however, she added that he was correct. You had stolen apples.

“But I would hardly say it is trivial. A thief, is a thief at the end of the day.”

“Do you wish to have her locked away until you can petition the Justice?”

When the shopkeeper nodded, her husband grumbled. He truly disliked how his wife had forgotten their struggles. There had been times even they came close to stealing. And though they never did so, he understood your plight.

“Let me state this now. I will not participate.” He announced.

Somewhat taken aback, the Sentinels looked between the husband and wife. One then grabbed you by the arm.

“Alright, it’s time to go.”

“Please! There must be something I can do to make things right.” You protested as you looked at the shopkeeper. “I am needed at home!”

“You should have thought about that before you went about nicking things.” The man countered. “Now either you move your legs, or I’ll resort to brute force.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Geralt said in a calm tone.

When you all looked towards the entrance, he was stood there with an annoyed expression. In an unhurried pace, he made his way over. He then scowled at poor Jaskier, who could do nothing but shrug in response.

“Stranger, this is none of your affair.” One of the Sentinels cautioned. “It’s best you keep moving before you are charged with interfering with the law.”

“The girl is my servant.” Geralt said, ignoring everything he had said. He then tossed the shopkeeper’s husband a small black pouch. “That’s nine Denars. Twenty times the value of what she took.”

Angered by the meddling, the shopkeeper declared she wanted justice, not coin. She then informed the Sentinels that Geralt did not speak truthfully. You had come to the shop alone, thus, you were not a servant of either man. But as she continued raving, her husband suddenly placed a hand upon her shoulder.

“Do not take offense, love…” He began. ‘But for once, shut your mouth.”

Ever the jovial one, Jaskier burst into gleeful laughter.

This caused one of the Sentinels to chuckle as well. However, things quickly subsided when Geralt shot both men a severe look. Approaching the lawmen, the shopkeeper’s husband first apologized for wasting their time. He then assured them that the coin was more than enough to resolve the matter.

“It appears there is nothing for you to do here. But gratitudes, all the same.” He added.

Obviously, the shopkeeper was livid. But as she followed the Sentinels, they ignored her pleas to return.

“So, we may take our leave?” Geralt asked of the husband.

“Aye.” He replied. “The little Lass is free to go.”

“I cannot stay.” You protested as you entered the Blue Raven Tavern with Jaskier and Geralt. “I must begin my journey home!”

As expected, it the place was quite busy due to the storm. As you were guided to a table, the patrons appeared to be mostly traveling merchants, migrants and Mercenaries. All of them in search of a temporary place of shelter until the weather improved.

“Sit.” Geralt gruffly commanded.

Naturally, his tone didn’t sit well with you.

“My Lord, I am no dog!” You protested despite doing as asked. “I’m quite grateful for your show of kindness. And as promised, I intend to repay the coin you parted with. But I must ask that you speak to me like I am a person.”

After staring for a moment, Geralt simply looked away. Frustrated by his odd behavior, you gave Jaskier your attention. Unfortunately, he was too busy staring at the ample breasts of the Tavern maid.

“Look here! Do you intend to ogle me all night or is there something you are in need of?”

“Oh, I am in need of many things.” Jaskier replied cheekily. “But let us start off with a pitcher of Black Mead. And perhaps a platter of rose-honey rolls with fresh churned butter on the side.”

The woman gave a flirtatious smirk before turning to leave. As she walked, Jaskier stared at her equally ample backside.

“You have coin for that?” Geralt asked.

“No, but you do.”

When he took note of your smile, Jaskier stated he had spent most of his coin repairing his lute. He then lifted it for you to see. From the way he spoke of it, you could tell the instrument held great sentimental value.

“It’s simply exquisite.” You remarked. “It makes my Uncle’s own look plain by comparison.”

“Do you play?” Jaskier asked with great excitement.

Reluctantly, you confessed that you did. Adding that music was one of the main sources of entertainment in your household. When you stated that you could play most string instruments, Geralt closed his eyes. Seeing the two of you bonding over your music, made him fear either of you playing a song.

Because after the exploits they had encountered in the last township, he had no desire to hear noise.

“Would you play something?” Jaskier asked, passing you his lute.

You were flattered that he would entrust you with his prized possession. However, you hesitated. Though you knew many songs, you played according to mood. And with how you were feeling, a sorrowful melody was likely to come through.

“Go on, Lass!” A man drunken man shouted from a nearby table. “Help me drown out my talkative companions.”

Carefully, you positioned the lute, finding that your fingers eased about the instrument comfortably. With a deep breath, your eyes shut so you could drown the noise around you. From the pluck of the first note, a sense of peace washed over you.

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You were no longer in a dimly lit, packed Tavern. But rather, sat by the scenic lake nearest your cottage.

As you played, the commotion in the establishment began to die down. From weary traveler, to the most imposing of Hired Sword, everyone was soon listening to your haunting melody. As for Jaskier, he rested his cheek in hand as he watched.

It wasn’t often he came across someone like you. Not only were you amiable, but you now proved to be quite talented. After setting down the rolls and pitcher of Black Mead, the Tavern Maid observed a while before getting to her work.

She too seemed to prefer music over the usual cursing and threats to take fights outdoors.

When you struck the last chord, you were astounded by the eruption of cheers and mugs hitting the tabletops. Your father and Uncle always complimented your playing. However, you had assumed they only flattered you because they were family.

With a bashful expression, you passed the lute back to Jaskier.

“Y/N, you are quite fascinating.” He remarked. “Not only can you sew beautifully, but you have the makings of a Bard.”

“Though I hardly deserve such praise, I will accept it graciously.”

“Good. Now, how about you start eating while I pour us some mead.”

Naturally, you were still quite famished; however, you didn’t want to make a pig of yourself. So instead of taking several rolls, you took one and began spreading the butter. As you were doing so, you realized Geralt staring at you once again.

“My Lord, is there something on my face?”

Though he appeared irritated by your very voice, he replied that you were bleeding. How he could know such a thing was a mystery. Because, at present time, you were sat across from both he and Jaskier.

When you touched the back of your head, and looked at your palm, Geralt was proven correct. Apparently, the wound had begun to seep.

“Oh!” Jaskier exclaimed. “That’s why that fabric is about your head. All this while, I thought it was some new trend.”

“If only.” You replied with a weak smile. “An old man applied ointment to my head before tying this. I only wish I got his name before he disappeared.”

As you removed the kerchief and folded it, Geralt reached inside his cloak. He then produced a small vial and held it towards you.

“Here. Drink this.”

“My Lord, I will do no such thing.” You replied. “First, tell me what it is. Even better, tell me how you knew I was bleeding.”

Despite your words, he said nothing more. Instead, Geralt studied you as if you were an inanimate object.

“My Lord…………”

“For the last time, I am no Lord.”

“Oh, so you CAN put more than five words together.” You jested. “At any rate, since you refuse to tell me how to best address you, I shall keep using the title. My father says it’s best to err on a high position.

Refusing to be drawn into banter, Geralt set the vial on the table.

He then took hold of his mug and got to his feet. When Jaskier asked where he was off to, he nodded towards the door. Despite the storm, it appeared that he was in no mood for company or conversation. As Geralt departed the table, you watched with great curiosity.

“How did he know I was bleeding?” You asked, your gaze following his dominating figure out the Tavern. “Is he part Demon?”

“Demon? Why do you assume such a thing?”

“For one thing, his hair. That alone tells me that he is no mere mortal. But also, his eyes. They seem…………well…………sinister.”

Though he tried, Jaskier burst into laughter. Indeed, he had called Geralt many things whenever they fought. But sinister, was not one of them. Between chuckles, he assured you that his brooding companion was no Demon. In fact, he was one of the few people that stood between such creatures and the innocents.

But from your expression, it appeared you weren’t convinced.

“Why do I get the feeling that you distrust, Geralt?”

“It’s not that, my Lord.” You replied. “However, where I’m from, magic and magical being are not trusted. People are put to death for simply buying magical items.”

“But Stillwell seems quite open-minded.”

“I did not grow up here. I spent most of my life in Narin.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your father was King’s Guard there.” Jaskier remarked, recalling your past conversation. “Tell me, how did you come to reside here?”

Though you stated it was a long tale, he shrugged. Lifting his mug, he reminded you that there was nothing but time. After all, the storm didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon. Since they had been so kind, you figured it wasn’t an unreasonable request. Thus, you quickly decided to oblige.

So, as Geralt sat in the enclosed stables, drinking his mead beside Roach and Moss, you shared your life with Jaskier.

“Apple thief.” Geralt exclaimed.

He the grabbed hold of Moss’s bit before rolling his eyes.

Though you had insisted on riding, it was apparent that you were too fatigued. Not only had you fallen asleep twice, but you kept saying things that made little sense. Typically, such a thing wouldn’t be cause for alarm. Especially since your Uncle’s steed followed your companions at a good pace. However, you had also nearly fallen both times.

And since a broken neck would do no one any good, Geralt was becoming irate.

“Y/N, you slept again.” Jaskier remarked as he brought his hired mare alongside. “Either you ride with one of us, or risk having an even worse headwound.”

You yawned as you looked about the forest. Though you had given proper directions, your mind was hazy.

“Are you certain we’re headed the right way?” You asked as you stifled another yawn.

“We exited the Western gate and veered left when we passed the guard tower.” Jaskier replied. “So, by now, we are quite deep in the Highland Grove.”

Though he repeated your directions perfectly, you still had quite the time processing your surroundings. Everything felt somewhat………off.

“Perhaps it’s best if you rode with me the rest of the way.” Jaskier suggested. “Otherwise, you are likely to get hurt.”

You wavered, however, you soon brought Moss to a halt. As Geralt held the bit, you dismounted and stretched a bit more. Suddenly, his neck snapped to the left. With a tense expression, the brooding warrior peered into the darkness.

Evidently, he was observing something neither you nor Jaskier could see.

“Don’t move.” Geralt commanded.

In one swift motion, he dismounted before pressing a finger to his lips. Unsheathing his sword, he shoved you behind his person. It was then the cold of the night finally hit you. As you held your coat about you more firmly, you tensed your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.

“There are five of you.” Geralt declared into the darkness. “If you wish to live, keep to your business.”

“And whom are you, stranger?” A voice replied in amusement. “From what I see, you appear a foreigner. Therefore, unless you are a patsy of the Magistrate or Town Council, your word holds no weight here.”

You expected Geralt to say something more. But instead, he simply grumbled before looking over his shoulder. After advising you to stay where you were, he began moving in the direction of the voice.

Without warning, the distinct sound of an arrow broke the silence.

It was enough to make you and Jaskier draw anxious breath. But had you blinked; you would have missed what came next. Though it had been headed right for Geralt, he deflected the arrow as if swatting a fly. In fact, not even his expression changed as he pressed forward.

Stopping at the tree line, he suddenly extended his free hand.

At first you were confused. What Geralt hoped to accomplish, you did not know. However, it became apparent that he was casting. Rapidly, an odd blue light formed in his palm. When satisfied with the scope of it, he released the energy into the darkness.

And it must have hit its intended target. Because what came next was a cacophony of agonizing screams and curses. When all the noise died down, three furious men came bounding out from the tree line.

“Damn abomination! You killed my mates with your sorcery!” A man wielding two blades shouted.

In the entirety of your life, you had never witnessed such a battle up close. Sure, your father and Uncle had protected the family on many occasions. However, nothing to the degree of what was before you.

“Keep behind me, Y/N.” Jaskier whispered as he kept hold of the steeds. “If anyone wanders close, I will protect you.”

You wanted to ask what weapon he intended to use. Because from observation, the only thing he could wield was his lute. Nevertheless, since it was the thought the mattered, you remained silent. As things got bloodier, you avoided the carnage by looking to the ground.

Mercifully, the violent commotion began to fade. Before long, it was replaced by the song of crickets once more. When you looked at Geralt, he hardly looked like he had just fought off three men. Not only was he breathing normally, he was calmly wiping the blood from his sword.

“You used magic on them.” You said, peeking out from behind Jaskier.

Ignoring you completely, Geralt commanded you to continue the journey on the Bard’s steed. Incensed at being snubbed, you stared at him.

“Though you are no mortal, my Lord, I must say this. You simply do not understand how things work in Stillwell.” You said as he tied a rope to Moss’s reigns. “You cannot simply execute people here. The law states that one must give opportunity for surrender.”

“Hmmm.”

“Is that it?” You asked. “You just killed five people and all you can do is grunt.”

“Apple thief, get going.”

“Apple thief? I have a name, you know!”

As if you had said nothing at all, Geralt pointed to Jaskier who was stood by his hired steed. Sensing the awkward tension between you, the poor Bard gave a meek wave.

“Alright!” You fumed. “If you will not address anything I have said, at least answer this. What are you, exactly?”

After giving an exasperated sigh, Geralt grabbed hold of you. With little effort, he then set you upon the saddle by force. Hiding a smirk, Jaskier mounted the steed, taking his place behind you. As he took hold of the reigns, you perceived the Bard was on the verge of laughter.

“The absolute nerve of him!” You seethed. “That man is not only a Demon, but a rude one, at that.”

“You know something? Despite being his closest friend, I cannot argue with the last bit.”

Jaskier then snapped the reigns as your little convoy continued down the road.

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moonlightsbeams · 4 years

Text

Dragons Make Surprisingly Great Girlfriends Chapter 2 - Act 1

Another day, the same tale. It seems the princess is not as in distress as she may seem. But what has her disappearance left behind?

Dragon Prince Bard Princess

Dragon {Prince} Bard Princess

Prince Adrien has lived a…. Monotone life. As the only heir to the Agreste throne, he has been groomed to be perfect from the start. His mother made learning how to be king fun and exciting...but her death 7 years ago sucked all joy from his life. His father basically retreated into a hole in his mind, the kingdom his only priority. And Chloe, his childhood friend, who was always loud and mean to others, but knew how to be quiet and nice, became a stranger after his mother’s death. Maybe the princess of the Tsurugi kingdom, quiet but full of kind words and encouragement, could fill the void. But she has her own life, so he doesn’t intrude.

So he’s alone. And he supposes it’s alright. It’s peaceful in it’s own way.

He won’t admit to nights spent crying into a stuffed cat his mother made him.

One day, he is summoned to his father’s throne. Why? His father doesn’t care about him. Nonetheless, he obeys the summons, kneeling at his father’s feet.

“Adrien.” The cold voice greets. Adrien used to search for any type of love in his father’s voice. He now knows it’s not there. “You are to be married to Marinette of the Dupain-Cheng kingdom.”

Adrien merely stays still. Out of shock or acceptance, he wonders to himself. “Father…”

“This is non-negotiable. You will be meeting her at the wedding. That is all.”

Adrien drags himself away, and sits down on his bed. Turning to the stuffed animal, he muses, “I guess I knew this day was coming. I don’t know why I thought I would get a choice, Plagg. I’ve never had a choice.”

He lays down, trying to blink away the tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “Isn’t this what I wanted? To not be alone anymore?” He clutches Plagg to his chest, and lets the tears roll down his cheeks. “So why do I feel so bad?” He cries himself to sleep that night, Plagg the only company.

Two days later, Adrien is summoned again. “Father, what is it?”

“Your fiance has been kidnapped.” Gabriel states, as if stating the weather.

“What?”

“On a visit to the Tsurugi kingdom, Marinette was spotted in the clutches of a giant red dragon. Princess Kagami is also missing. She hasn’t been seen, but Marinette has been seen alive deeper into the Tsurugi kingdom held by the dragon. You will be going there to rescue her.”

“Father-”

“You will be rescuing Princess Marinette. We need this marriage to succeed. If you can locate Princess Kagami on the journey that would be an added bonus, but your main focus is Marinette.”

“Father-”

“I will provide you with transportation to the kingdom, and the supplies you need.”

“Father-”

“Adrien!” Gabriel roars. “This isn’t a choice. The princess is missing, and as her fiance, it is your responsibility to rescue her. You must do this. I don’t care how, but I want Marinette returned and that dragon dead to show your strength.”

Adrien flinches at his father’s tone, and stares at the ground. “Yes Father.”

“Go pack your things. You leave today. Do not fail me.”

Adrien nods his head, and returns to his chambers. Dragons? I thought those were the stuff of legends. Why did one have to kidnap her? He thinks as he throws clothing into a bag. Just before he wraps the bag, his eyes fall upon Plagg. “How pathetic would it be to bring a stuffed animal on a quest?” He sneers at himself. The cat's button eyes stare back. Adrien sighs, and picks up Plagg. “I guess no one would know.” He hugs the cat close, and gently places him in the bag. “I miss you Maman.”

He lugs the bag and himself outside, and nods at his father’s advisor waiting with the carriage. “Goodby Nathalie.”

She bows, and places a bag full of coins into his palm. “We have packed provisions, temporary shelter materials, and weapons in the carriage. Your father told me to remind you to not spend the coins all in the same place.” She hesitates. “Bring yourself back in one piece, Adrien.”

He smiles sadly at her. “Thank you Nathalie. Tell my father that I will not return without the princess.” He enters the carriage, and prepares himself for the fortnight long journey to the far reaches of the Tsurugi kingdom.

~~~~~~~~

The carriage jerks to a stop, awakening Adrien from his sleep. He hastily dries the drool at the corner of his mouth, and exits the carriage. The eastern Tsurugi kingdom is so different from the western Agreste kingdom, and he can only marvel at the beauty of the swaying cherry blossom trees. The carriage driver grunts, and hands him packs full of supplies. Adrien hastily remembers that he needs to find a horse. He nods at the driver, and the driver gives him a pat on the back. “Be safe out there, your highness. Dragons are dangerous business. If..if you were my son I would not send you out alone on this quest. This is the last village to see the dragon. Find a guide in a local tavern. They would know the place better.”

Adrien smiles at him. “Thank you Gorille. I- I will miss you.”

The driver bows, and pulls himself back onto the carriage. WIth one last look at Adrie, le Gorille drives off. Adrien watches him leave for a moment, and turns to find a guide.

Entering the tavern, he finds the owner, and asks for a room. The tavern owner glady shows him a room and takes a few of Adrien’s gold pieces. Adrien wishes he knew more of the local language, he can hardly understand a word the man is saying. “Monsieur,” he asks, tripping over the words. “Are there any local guides for hire?” The man shrugs, telling him to ask around. Adrien throws his supplies into the room, locking it and going downstairs.

He orders a drink from the bar, and gently nurses it as he watches the tavern. Everyone looks like farmers, and from what he can understand from the loud chatter, none of them have enough free time to guide him on a quest to find Marinette.

Suddenly, a man in a hooded blue cloak slides into a chair across from him. “Now tell me Monsieur, what is a prince doing out here?”

Adrien merely raises an eyebrow, and looks the man up and down. “I’m..not sure what you are talking about.”

The man chuckles. “I’m not a fool. You practically radiate, ‘I’m rich, please rob me.’”

Adrien looks down at his clothing. He guesses that his clothing is nice, but he didn’t think they were that nice.

“Besides,” The man drawls, “I lived in Agreste for a while.” The man takes off his hood, revealing his bright blue eyes. “I’m truly sorry about your mother. I know my words mean nothing to you, since I didn’t know her personally, but your mother left a beautiful mark on the kingdom.”

Adrien stiffens at the thought of his mother, but softens at the sincere tone of the man. “Thank you. I- miss her very much.”

The man nods. “Now tell me, Prince Adrien, why are you so far from Agreste? This obviously isn’t a royal visit seeing how you’re all alone.”

Adrien nods, about to tell him about the quest, but stops himself. “I’m sorry, but how can I trust you? For all I know, you could be buttering me up to rob me.”

The man laughs, and Adrien swears it’s the best laugh he’s ever heard, rich and real. “I understand your concerns, your highness. I would be suspicious if I were in your shoes, I swear to you, on the life of my sister and my mother, I am not looking to rob you.”

Adrien senses the sincerity in the man’s tone, and the honesty in his eyes. “Will you at least tell me your name?” Adrien asks.

“Luka, your highness. Luka Couffaine, of nowhere in particular. Brilliant bard.” Luka winks at him.

“Full of ourselves, are we?” He decides to gently tease.

Luka presses a hand to his chest, gasping in mock horror. “I would never, your highness. First you mistake me for some scoundrel thief, and now you think me to be a narcissistic scoundrel? Your highness, do you really think so low of me?”

Adrien softly chuckles, not even attempting to hide it. How long has it been since he’s sincerely laughed? “If you must know, Luka of nowhere, I am on a quest.”

Luka’s eyes widen slightly. He leans forward, asking in an awed whisper, “A quest?”

Adrien snorts. “It’s nothing fancy, Monsieur Bard. It will most likely end with me roaming endlessly...for the rest of my life. Or.. getting eaten by a dragon.”

“A tragic tale indeed.” Luka nods. “I’m assuming that the dragon is the giant red one that flew over two weeks ago, your highness.”

“You’ve seen it?” Adrien practically cries. “I mean, I guess you’ve seen it, since this was the last village to see it.”

Luka shakes his head. “There’s quite a few villages to the east that have reported sightings of the dragon, your highness.”

Adrien groans, slamming his head into the table. “Now I really need a guide.” He quickly raises his head. “Luka, would you say you know this area well?”

“Erm...yes?”

“Would you be my guide? I would compensate you, and pay for lodging! All I need is someone who can help me through the kingdom until I find the dragon, you wouldn’t need a horse, you could just ride with me!” Adrien pleads.

Luka muses for a moment. “I will accept your offer.. Under one condition.”

“What is it?”

“Let me write a song- nay a ballad about the quest.” Luka’s eyes are gleaming, his smile wide. “It’s not every day an opportunity like this lands in front of you!”

Luka wants to write a ballad.. About him? “I may disappoint you, you know.”

Luka shakes his head, the smile still there. “Your highness, I don’t think you could do that.”

Adrien lets a small smile come onto his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, your highness.” Luka sticks his hand out, ready to seal the deal.

Adrien hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“I have never been more sure in my life.”

The confidence in Luka’s voice pushes Adrien to take his hand. He firmly shakes it, trying to ignore the fact how nice it feels.

“Let’s go.”

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

#lukadrigaminette #lukanette #lukadrien #lukagami #adrigami #adrinette #marigami #kagaminette #kagami tsurugi #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #the gorilla #nathalie sancoeur #gabriel agreste #lukaxadrienxmarinettexkagami

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swanqueeneverafter · 4 years

Text

The Once & Future Queen Pt.23

Smuggler's Camp. (Having woken both Ella and Henry, Lancelot is searching for answers.) Lancelot: "Has anyone heard from Guinevere?" Henry: (Shaking his head:) "No, the last I saw of her was after we freed Merlin." Lancelot: "Damn. We were set upon by Morgana. I told Guinevere to run while I tried to hold her off, but she got by me." Henry: "I'm sorry, Lancelot. Did you manage to get anything useful from your mother?" Lancelot: "Yes, but Morgana's already retaken Camelot. I'm afraid all is lost." Ella: "You can't know that. You mustn't give up hope." Lancelot: “Agravaine and his men have been sent to find me. In all the confusion I got turned around. Where are we now?” Henry: “We’re heading north towards Lot’s kingdom." Lancelot: (Nods:) “With Camelot in Morgana’s possession, that’s as good a safe haven as we’re likely to find. I can only hope the knights who escaped will meet us there. (Looks around the camp:) Who are these people?” Henry: “They’re, er…smugglers.” Lancelot: “Smugglers?!” Henry & Ella: “Shhh!” Ella: (Whispered:) “Yes and they’re not too thrilled about Camelot’s laws either. So if I were you I’d try and keep my true identity a secret.” Lancelot: (Nods:) “I spent years moving from place to place avoiding those who’d like nothing better than to see me dead. Compared to them, these smugglers shouldn’t be a problem.” Henry: (Pats him on the back:) “I wouldn’t count on that.” Elsewhere In The Woods. (Agravaine rides along the forest path, the soldiers bearing torches follow behind him on foot.) Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. Morning. (Emma pads downstairs towards the kitchen. Hearing Regina speaking to someone on the phone, Emma leans on the door frame and waits patiently for Regina to finish her conversation.) Regina: (Agitated:) "Oh all right. But if they ask my opinion on you, don't expect me to hold anything back!” (Regina tosses her phone across the counter.) Emma: "Wrong number?" Regina: (Scoffs:) "I wish. Your mother, in her infinite wisdom, has agreed to allow that idiot reporter to cover the search for Storybrooke’s next Mayor." Emma: "Well, I guess it would be in the public interest?" Regina: "Really? And what do you call agreeing to have that same reporter follow us around all day? Because I call it bullsh-" (The doorbell rings.) Emma: "That'll be them now, I guess?" Regina: "So much for enjoying a nice lazy morning, huh?"

Emma: "I'll get the door, you go upstairs and take Maria her bottle." Regina: "All right." (She leaves.) Emma: (Calling after her:) "And change into your happy pants while you're up there! (Attempting to put on a brave face, Emma walks across the hall and opens the front door. However, upon being blinded by the Reporter's camera flash and bombarded with questions before she can even manage to fully open the door, Emma's relatively good mood falters. Forcing a smile, she stands aside:) Won't you come in?" (The Reporter enters and continues to chatter excitedly as Emma rolls her eyes and closes the door.) Smuggler's Camp. (Lancelot stands talking with Henry when he's spotted by Tristan.) Tristan: “You. (Lancelot turns around:) Do I know you?” Henry: (Thinking on his feet:) “Er... this is our friend... Jack. We were supposed to meet up yesterday but he got lost.” Tristan: “Simpleton are you, Jack? (Before Lancelot can reply:) We leave as soon as the horses are watered. Explain it to the simpleton, would you? (Tristan walks away while Lancelot looks at Henry who smiles sheepishly. Lancelot readjusts the sword he acquired from the Lady of the Lake and this catches Tristan and Isolde’s attention:) Simpleton.” Henry: “He’s talking to you.” Lancelot: “I don’t answer to that name.” Henry: “You’re not you, remember?” (Tristan looks down at the sword.) Tristan: “Impressive piece.” Lancelot: (With a slight accent:) “Thank you, sir.” Tristan: “May I? (Lancelot allows Tristan to handle the sword. He examines the blade. Scoffs:) Magnificent. Usually the only place you find workmanship of this quality is the royal forge of Camelot. (Tristan puts the sword to Lancelot’s throat:) Tell me, how did you come by it?” Lancelot: (Without flinching:) “I won it in a card game.” (Tristan narrows his eyes suspiciously then hands the sword back to him.) Tristan: “I hope for your sake that’s true. (Lancelot takes the sword:) I’d hate to think that I was riding with a knight of Camelot.” (Isolde giggles.) Isolde: “Knight of Camelot? Look at him.” (Henry chuckles as Lancelot plays along and pretends not to know how to put the sword in his belt.) Tristan: “You’re right. Their knights may be stupid, but they’re not that stupid.” (Lancelot puts on a big smile and chuckles with the rest of them until suddenly a man walking past them gets shot with an arrow. They turn and see soldiers charging the camp. Henry grabs Ella and pulls her out of harms way. An arrow lands in the tree next to Lancelot’s head and they run to take cover behind the wagon with Tristan and Isolde. Lancelot takes charge.) Lancelot: “Head for those trees, we’ll cover you. (Tristan and Isolde exchange a confused look:) Do you want to live or not?” (Tristan steps forward to question Lancelot, but Isolde grabs his arm and they run off. Lancelot, Ella and Henry fire crossbows at the soldiers through the wagon. Henry tosses Lancelot another bolt and reloads his own crossbow.) Henry: “Now what?” Lancelot: “Now it’s our turn.” Henry: “Who’s going to cover us?” Lancelot: (Smirks:) “Don’t be a simpleton, Henry.” (They take aim and hit another three soldiers, but more keep coming. Lancelot grabs the sword from the wagon and they run off. They take cover behind a fallen tree with Tristan and Isolde. Agravaine directs the soldiers by the wagon.) Isolde: “They haven’t found the cargo.” Tristan: “They will. Besides, they weren’t after the cargo. They were after you. Who the hell are you?” Lancelot: “My name is Lancelot.” Tristan: “The bravest knight in all of Camelot!” Lancelot: “At least I was.” Tristan: “I’ve lost everything I’ve worked for because of the Queen’s good for nothing consort!” Lancelot: “That’s quite something coming from a smuggler.” Tristan: “Well, I wouldn’t have to be a smuggler if it wasn’t for your damn taxes, would I?!” Lancelot: “Those taxes help protect the people of this land.” Tristan: “My people are dead. You call that protection?”

Ella: “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but…” (Ella directs their attention to the soldiers charging them from behind. Lancelot and Tristan charge the soldiers and fight side by side. Ella, Henry and Isolde fight more soldiers. One soldier elbows Isolde in the head and slashes her sword arm, kicking her to the ground. The soldier poises for the final blow, but crumples as Lancelot stabs him in the back. Tristan runs to Isolde and holds her. Henry and Ella watch over them ready to defend them from attack.) Tristan: (Whispered:) “Isolde. We had a deal. Partners for life, remember?” Isolde: “When have I not kept my promises?” (Tristan kisses her forehead.) Lancelot: “We need to keep moving. There’ll be more coming soon.” Tristan: “Then go. There’s nothing stopping you.” (Lancelot rolls his eyes.) Henry: “We’ll be safer if we stick together.” Tristan: “I’m choosy about the company I keep.” Isolde: “He saved my life, Tristan. (To Lancelot:) Thank you.” Tristan: “None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for them.” (Isolde sighs at his stubbornness.) Lancelot: “She’s injured. She needs shelter and rest.” (Tristan sighs, looks at Lancelot, then back at Isolde. Isolde nods.) Tristan: “Very well. But know this, Lancelot, I do this for her. You and your kind bring nothing but misery to this land.” Camelot. Council Chamber. (Soldiers shove Xena into the middle of a fighting circle where Morgana stands. She smiles at their rowdy enjoyment.)

Morgana: “Behold! Xena, the Warrior Princess. Famed as the greatest warrior to ever live. (Morgana grabs Xena’s face:) Let’s see if that fame’s deserved, shall we?” (Xena scoffs with a smirk and glares at Morgana who walks to sit on the throne. A soldier steps forward, brandishing a couple of weapons while Xena looks around at the braying mob.) Storybrooke. Daycare Centre. (Speaking with the Reporter, Regina talks about a typical day in the life for herself and Emma.) Regina: "Aside from the occasional witch or warlock attempting to take over the world, our days are pretty normal. As Mayor, one of my duties is to ensure that all aspects of the community are catered for. Luckily, we have some very conscientious people in this town. A prime example of that can be found here, at Ashley's Daycare Centre. Now Ashley's story is one you should definitely take the time to explore. A young mother herself, Ashley saw a need within the community and brought people together to share their experiences. What you see here today is all down to her hard work and dedication. Ashley's joy for what she provides to the community really shines through." Reporter: "Are Emma and yourself members?" Regina: "We were for a short time. Emma thought it would be a good idea to get opinions from other 'first time' mothers. Of course, while Maria isn't Emma's first child, she did miss out on raising Henry herself." Reporter: "That's interesting. Having raised Henry alone, did you see the need to attend Ashley's classes?" Regina: (Smiles:) "Initially I didn't quite see the point, having already been there and done it, but I knew it was important to Emma. So we came for the first few weeks and it was actually a lot of fun." Reporter: "So what happened after those first few weeks?" Regina: (Hesitates:) "Apparently I was a little too forthright in giving my own opinions on how to raise a child and I was quietly asked to leave." Reporter: "I see." (Writing some notes.) Regina: (Hastily:) "But, during Emma’s absence, I made a request to return for Maria’s sake. And for myself, if I’m being honest. So today is the first time all three of us are attending in quite some time.” Reporter: “So you would recommend the daycare centre?” Regina: “Absolutely. I highly recommend the centre for all first time mothers." (Regina smiles, a little uncomfortable at how much she’s just shared.) Camelot. Council Chamber. (Xena fights one of the soldiers, dodging blow after blow until finally she is shoved backwards into the surrounding circle of soldiers. Upon being pushed back towards her opponent, Xena is knocked to the floor. Spinning her legs in the air to gain momentum, Xena jumps to her feet and avoids catching a mace to the face. Disarming her opponent of one of his weapons, Xena taunts him.) Xena: “That all you got? I was promised a decent fight. (The man pulls out another weapon from his belt and disarms Xena:) You’re a very angry man, I can see that. Must be hard being so ugly. (The man swings wildly at Xena as she continues:) Children crying, women screaming. (The man attacks again with an overhead swing but misses:) Come on, you can do better than that.”

(Completely unarmed, Xena knocks the soldier to the ground. Her opponent rises to his feet with one weapon left. Xena lets out her battle cry and climbs on his back after punching him in the stomach. The soldier rams Xena into a column, but she dismounts, punches and kicks the soldier against the column. Xena picks up the mace and knocks out her opponent with it in the now silent council chamber. Morgana stands, clapping slowly.) Morgana: “Congratulations, Xena. An admirable display. You’ve earned your reward. (She indicates to someone and they toss a half-loaf of moldy bread at Xena’s feet:) But you’re going to have to do better if you want some more.” (The gathered soldiers chuckle darkly and Morgana motions for two more warriors to step forward. The chanting begins again as Xena prepares for their attack.) Storybrooke. Daycare Centre. (At the end of the day's session, Ashley talks with Emma.) Ashley: "So it's true, you and Regina are really retiring?" Emma: (Nods:) "As soon as we can find a candidate for Mayor, yeah. Maybe you should think about it?" Ashley: "Me? Mayor? I wouldn't know where to start." Emma: "I don't know, look at what you've done with this place. I think you'd make an excellent Mayor." Ashley: (Smiles:) "Thanks, Emma. But I don't think people see me as the City Hall type." Emma: "Hey, remember what I told you the day we met?" Ashley: (Nods:) "People are going to tell you who you are your whole life. You just gotta punch back and say, 'No, this is who I am.' I remember. (Considers:) All right, I'll think about it." Emma: (Smiles:) "You'd get my vote."

Abandoned Farmhouse. Village. (Ella checks on Isolde who is sleeping on the bed while Tristan and Lancelot eat.) Ella: “I’ve cleaned the wound. There’s no sign of infection. So as long as she gets plenty of rest, she’ll be fine.” Tristan: “Thank you, Ella, for everything you’ve done for her.” (Ella nods and leaves.) Lancelot: “I’m sorry I brought this…misfortune upon you.” Tristan: “Well, I may have lost my cargo, but I still have my beloved Isolde.” Lancelot: “Then you’re richer than you know.” (Tristan considers Lancelot and then looks to Isolde. Lancelot watches them sadly, his thoughts turning to Guinevere. In another room, Ella tends to Henry's injuries.) Henry: (Watching her:) “Where did you learn that?” Ella: “Ah, books. I read a lot about medicine in my father's library as a little girl. The books would always stress that a good bedside manner was very important, so whenever some of the local bards would visit the castle, I'd try and remember some of their stories." Henry: (Smiles:) "A writer and a storyteller huh? Well aren't we the pair?" Ella: (Laughs:) "I wouldn't go that far, but there is one story I do remember." Henry: "I'd love to hear it." Ella: "Hmm, okay. Once upon a time, a young woman went into the woods to hunt, but lost her way. For days she wandered in the forest, disorientated and confused, desperately trying to find her way out. She was hopeless. After some time, she saw a man approaching in the distance. At last, she thought to herself, ‘Someone who knows how to get out of this forest.’ When they met, she asked the man, ‘Kind sir, can you please tell me the way out of this forest? I have been wandering for days, but have been unable to find the way.’ But the man answered, ‘I’m sorry. I do not know the way out either. I, too, have been wandering about these woods for days. Let us journey on together. Perhaps, side by side, we can figure a way out.’ After that, the woman was no longer hopeless.” (Timing her story to finish with her ministrations, Ella looks up at Henry who is smiling at her in complete adoration.) Storybrooke. Daycare Centre. (Emma sits down with the Reporter.) Reporter: "How does it feel to be back here after what you went through? I suspect there were times when you thought you'd never attend one of these sessions again?" Emma: "It feels great. That's what most people don't understand about the seemingly mundane aspects of their lives. To be able to have a routine, to have that consistency is something people take for granted. Growing up in the foster system, I was constantly trying to follow someone else's rules or guidelines in order to fit in with the latest family. Now that I have a family of my own, I realise that having that stability is what we're all searching for. Regina and I have always been the outsiders, that's part of the reason we get each other so well. But now that we have everything we've ever wanted, it's time to really enjoy it." Reporter: "My sources tell me that retirement was your idea. Is this true and was there a particular moment that lead you to your decision?" Emma: "Well I don't know who your supposed sources are but yeah, it was my idea. As far as one particular moment goes? I think what really made me decide was watching Regina in situations like this. I mean, look at her. (Emma and the Reporter turn to watch Regina talking and laughing with the other mothers in the group:) A few years ago, that would never have happened. Regina would never have felt comfortable enough to just sit and chat with people without feeling as though they were saying one thing to her face and something completely different behind her back. I love that she's finally at peace and is able to open herself up to new friendships. That's why I suggested we step back and let someone else take the reigns. So that last remaining barrier can come down and she can just be herself. Not Madam Mayor. Not the Evil Queen. Just the woman I love, Regina."

Abandoned Farmhouse. Village. Night. (Henry and Ella hear screams as they sit talking. Henry stands and sees the soldiers’ torches surrounding the village.) Henry: “Agravaine. He’s found us.” (Lancelot, Henry, Ella, Tristan and Isolde watch as Agravaine and the soldiers harass the villagers.) Tristan: “Any suggestions?” Henry: “I might have something. Ella, you with me? (Ella nods:) Everyone else, round the back.” (Henry waits for the others to leave, then he and Ella run towards a cart at the top of the hill. Grabbing a torch and holding against the cart, they start rolling it towards Agravaine. Turning, Agravaine and the soldiers dash out of the way of the flaming cart just in time, but Agravaine looks up to see Lancelot’s party escaping.) Agravaine: “There! Get them!” Forest. (Soldiers chase Lancelot’s group through the woods, Tristan supporting Isolde as they go.)

#sq #swan queen #swanqueen

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