#or I’ll stream kingdom of hearts maybe both maybe stray too

[r0semultiverse]

Might be doing a Naruto Challenge today on stream via storm 4!

Stay Tuned, drop a follow over at twitch.tv/RoseMultiverse

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 12- Till Death Do Us Part

Summary: The battle for Sodden Hill is not over yet, your forces are almost all dead and the Nilfgaardian army is close. Things have been better, maybe by destiny they will?

Warning: blood & gore, feels, angst, fluff

Masterlist

You scream in fury as hot white lighting sparks from your opened palms and into the bodies of countless Nilfgaardian men, they fall in agony, their bodies twitching as they quickly meet a violent and painful end. You've been in battle all day, the forces of the enemy holding much better then you'd anticipated, nonetheless you've held your ground the absolute best you can.

You will not fall.

The sun has long abandoned the land and let darkness consume her whole, the woods around Sodden Hill on the other hand have been alive with the sounds of screaming and swords clashing. In the jumble of bodies and angry soldiers had you unfortunately managed to misplace your dagger, while also getting yourself sliced by a silver blade across your collarbone and left rib cage. Resorting your self defensive weaponry to the use of your destructive dark gift. And now more then ever have you been glad to make use of it.

It feels not enough.

The opened wound adorning your collarbone is small enough that it's not much of a bother for the time being, but the slice to your rib cage burns and seeps with hot wet blood as you move through the brush. You're certain that the leaves you part away are leaving a blood trail when you skim past them as you walk through the woods.

You wander though the thick underbrush in search of Yennefer and Tissaia, you've made sure to keep yourself hidden from Nilfgaard for as long as possible as you hunt for them in the darkness, also considering you're injured and bleeding, better to not draw any attention to yourself.

A few stray droplets of shining red fall to the forest floor while you stumble across a small downed log, praying that they're still alive in the woods somewhere, they have to be, your numbers are already dwindling every minute as Nilfgaard progresses.

Your eyes scan over the near distant patch of evergreens weeping low to the ground as a sudden flicker of light catches your attention, your eyes keenly follow as a torch and many soldiers charge through the thick conifers in the opposite direction of you to your great relief. They are oblivious to your existence as they hunt relentlessly for any sign of movement in the forest. Suddenly your ears prick to the tell tale individual beats of the heiress' and Yennefer's nervous hearts, walking further, you emerge from some bushes to find Tissaia and Yennefer on a grassy hill. Tissaia's hands outstretched as she casts some type of defense spell while Yennefer clutches her arrow wound, breathing heavily in the night air.

A feeling of great relief washes over you as a tired smile breaks out upon your dirt smudged face, "You're alive! Both of you!" You cry, sounding the most eased of your problems in quite some time. Yennefer finds your eyes, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly as you shuffle closer to the two of them, your ribs hurting with each step.

Tissaia slowly turns, her face is an absolute mess, her clothes dirty and her hair a disordered nest upon her head. She smells of sweat and blood and fear as you catch her tired blue eyes with your crimson ones, "Y/N." She rasps, reaching a hand out to you, you take it, keeping the other pressed firmly against your opened flesh.

You take a heavy breath, "Sabrina needs your help. Yennefer told me, she probably said...why are you not...where are..." You pause for a moment to take another breath and regain your words, it even hurts to breath, they notice your discomfort as an explosion sounds from the near distance, "We all do."

She lowly smiles before her face contorts into a pained expression, a whimper escapes her lips as she clutches the side of her stomach before falling to her knees. You quickly kneel down, a look of deep worry upon your own bloody face as you gently touch her arm, "No! No! Not now Tissaia, the Northern Kingdoms are close..." You plead desperately, she stares back at you through dazed eyes as Yennefer joins your huddle upon the dewy grass, "We can't give up." Your voice a rasped whisper.

Gods my throat is dry.

More explosions sound in the far distance as you grasp her shoulder, her face is sad with defeat and fear as tears fall down her sweaty blooded cheeks, "We need you, what do we do now?" Your voice is shaky and desperate, a frustrated tear falls down your face as you feel more sticky blood oozing out from your fresh wound.

Tissaia says nothing, her eyes taking in everything you're saying but looking rather vacant at the same time, you nod in understanding before releasing her shoulder. She sits down and turns to stare off lost into the far off firelight flaring through the thick woods. Understanding her exhaustion you move away from her to seat yourself atop the grass as you grimace in pain. Gods your deep battle wound hurts like a bitch, the fucking skin not immediately healing due to the silver. This may suck but in retrospect you've done one-hundred times more damage to Nilfgaard then a simple slash to your ribs.

You can be an optimist Y/N, but you know they hit bone. It bleeds too much.

Yennefer takes your once close position next to Tissaia, she looks desperately into the blue eyed mage as she grasps onto her shoulder, "You...you saved me. I won't ever forget that." Says Yennefer, her voice breaking as tears well up in her violet eyes.

Tissaia smiles a pained one, touching Yennefer's cheek before letting her hand fall, her blue eyes playing downcast as she looks out into the exploding woods. Yennefer's head falls as her lip quivers, her lavender irises trailing over to you in a last hopeful effort to find help. She kneels down by your side, her face expectant as you stare up at her, feeling almost in a blurry daze.

Yennefer blinks, her voice but a determined whisper, "Y/N, we have to fight. I can't do this without you, I can't." You breath through heavy painful breaths as a small trickle of your own blood trails out from your mouth, her brows furrow in deep worry as she finds your bleary eyes, "Y/N?"

Your breathing is almost ragged now as you gently reach out to touch her arm, "It's your turn...to save the people, this Continent. This is your legacy."

Her face is pained, "How? I can't!"

"You can!" Your voice is stronger now, "Everything you have ever felt, everything you've buried..." Your free hand softly touches her cheek, a small smile upon your lips, "Forget the bottle, forget the djinn. Let your chaos explode." She looks deeply into your shimmering crimson eyes, not an ounce of falseness lacing your words. She furrows her brows as the two of you lean your sweat covered foreheads against one another in a comforting manner.

"Be a dragon."

She slowly pulls away, rising to her feet as she parts from you, knowing exactly what must be done if you're all to survive this night. You watch as she slowly stumbles over across the grass, standing in between two large boulders, she faces the Elven Keep that is currently aflame. She pauses for a couple long moments before turning and climbing up the giant heavy stone, a small stream of blood drips out of your nose as you keep your eyes on Yennefer the whole time.

You feel so tired.

Tissaia gently touches your shoulder as she wills you to stand, rising to your feet the both of you wait in anticipation for what she's about to do next, her vessel atop the highest rock, she looks down upon the grassy woodland valley. Mages fight close by as you ignore their hardships and the terrible sounds of Nilfgaard soldiers as they charge in your direction. You ignore them all as Yennefer makes eye contact with you, she nods before thrusting her hands down, a scream of fury erupting from deep within her lungs.

Fire emits from her opened palms like a fearsome dragon throwing her wrath across the land, the bright hot flames dance in your direction as you and Tissaia fall to the ground for cover. Though you know better, it's no use, the fire will certainly end your long life in an instant.

I'll miss you Geralt. I'm sorry.

You cover your face in dreaded anticipation as the hellfire of heat passes you and Tissaia without giving you so much as a burn. You can hear the piercing screams from the nearby soldiers as they burn in agony from Yennefer's grand display of chaos. Your glistening eyes look around you, nothing but a hot orange glow surrounding yourself and Tissaia as you suck in astonished ragged breaths.

Yennefer you amazing woman. Burn those fuckers.

The flames consume around you, hot wind brushing past your face and conveniently drying away all the sweat as you let the blaze swallow whole the forest full of soldiers. Then just like that does the fire end, the spewing wrath of Yennefer going almost as suddenly as it had come. Your eyes lock with Tissaia's as she helps you stand, your sights finding nothing but charred ground and smoky ash in the aftermath.

You take a small step forward, you can't hear her heartbeat anymore, she's gone.

Nothing.

"Yennefer." Whispers Tissaia, unsure of where the violet eyed mage has gone, she suddenly walks past you in search of the missing sorceress, "Yennefer!" She shouts again and again while looking all around the scorched field.

"Yennefer!"

A couple stray tears fall down your ashen cheeks as a quivering smile forms across your face while you fight the urge to laugh at how terribly everything has gone, dried blood cracking on your skin as you grin, "We're alone Tissaia." Your voice is hoarse, the blue eyed mage turns to you, her eyes wide.

"No. We can't b...she can't....she can't be gone." Her eyes are sad with fearful grief.

"I can't sense her near." You shake your head, "No heartbeat but yours and mine. She did the most bravest thing she could have done, there is nothing more we can do now..." Your eyes fall to the smoking grass, "I don't know....I can't sense her anymore...she's just....she's....gone..." Tears fall freely now at the loss of your friend, heavy breaths hurting your rib cage as you try to stop yourself from sobbing.

Not another friend, gone. Not her too.

The hollow and empty feeling of loss consumes your entire vessel as you stand among charred Nilfgaard soldiers and fallen mages, you take another step forward, your face downcast with sadness and anger.

Your fist clenches, pain and anguish coursing through your heart, "It shouldn't have ended this way!" You shout in a fury, your ribs falling into agony as you start to cough.

Tissaia casts her eyes away from your fuming desperation, "No, it shouldn't have."

Taking in ragged breaths you look out into the scorched forest, "I guess now I'll truly be alone forever. How terribly sad." You snicker though there is no humor in your words, "Huh, I should have never left Geralt." More tears and blood patter to the charred grass as you hold your side, "Tissaia, go back to Aretuza. Leave this mess, go before it's too late. She may have killed everyone in the woods, but more still live beyond her flames. I can't have you dead either."

"Where will you go then?" She wonders, glancing down at your sliced flesh hidden behind your fingers, her voice laced with concern, "Y/N, if you stay you'll die."

"I know." More blood patters to the ground, "I need to feed, human blood is the only thing that can heal this type of wound." You grimace in pain once more, "I can't help what I am, it's the only way I will survive this."

She nods in understanding, "Be careful Y/N. It is not safe."

You lowly chuckle despite the pain, "Thanks for the forewarning, hopefully any surviving soldiers know that. Because I don't intend to keep a single one of them alive if we cross paths."

She hands you a small smile in return, "Till we meet again."

"Goodbye Tissaia."

She watches as you trudge into the burnt and smoky forest, out of sight in an instant as you wander into the night. She stands alone atop the singed earth as you wander through the blackened trees, letting the scent of Nilfgaard soldiers lead you to your first victim, if any are still alive that is.

Hopefully soon, gods this knife wound hurts.

Your eyes adjust perfectly to your surroundings as they had in the beginning of the night, all colors now of dull greys, blues, purples, greens, and black. No one but a Witcher could see as well as you. For some time do you stumble through the charred trees and logs until finally have you made it to the other side. You walk out into a grassy opening, the air is fresh and cool as you scan the area in search of life.

You walk forward and notice the tell tale signs of Nilfgaard, they were undoubtedly here, the grass is matted and horse shit wafts into the air. They are still very close, you can almost....suddenly a stick cracks from your left alerting you to a new sound.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Two heartbeats. Hooves thudding against the dirt.

A slender faced man appears from the tree line atop his steed, his face dirty as his piercing blue eyes squint at you in curiosity. He is without a doubt from Nilfgaard, his strange black armor giving him away instantly, a crest of the golden thin star marked on his chest. Oddly enough he still looks rather attractive, in a sadistic cold hearted kind of way, Geralt would without a doubt be making fun of you if he was here to read your facial expressions.

You and the blue eyed stranger make eye contact as he leads his horse closer, once he's close enough to better see your face does he click his tongue signaling the horse to halt. If he's nervous he sure doesn't show it, most men would either cower away or immediately show aggression once they've glanced at your ruby irises.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Another heartbeat. Another man.

An armored soldier breaks from the tree line and stops, staring at the two of you, unsure of what's to happen next. The first man eyes you suspiciously as he lays a careful hand atop his sheathed sword.

"You are not human?" He wonders in a questioning statement, eyes trailing up and down your body in a cautious way rather then anything else more sinister. You stare up at him through irritated eyes, a hand still covering your wound, as your free one taps the side of your thigh.

"I am not the only monster to stand upon this land. You inbred Nilfgaardian cocksucker." He grimaces in disgust, clearly not anticipating that kind of blatantly bold answer, nonetheless he stares on still unsure if you're a true threat or not.

The other soldier takes a couple proud steps forward, instantly his ragged sword is out in an act of dominance, "You foockin' bitch, how dare ya call The Black Knight Cahir aep Ceallach by such a derogatory name." Huffs the loyal soldier as he spits in the direction of your feet, his black sword flashing in the bright moonlight.

You tilt your head to the side, a fangy smile stretching across your ashen face, "Oh, forgive me then. But as it would turn out, I don't give a fuck." You sneer with hatred, Cahir's eyes darken at your words.

Oh, you've got him now.

"Sebastian. Kill her." Commands The Black Knight with a simple nod, his loyal man smirks before raising his sword and charging at you like a wild animal.

Cahir watches in anticipated curiosity from atop his horse as his devoted soldier makes quick thunderous steps in your direction like a raging blunderous fool. You take one last even breath, enjoying the dull throbbing of your wound before you send it into agony once again.

You steady your feet, staggering them as you turn your shoulder so it faces the charging man, when your scarlet irises catch the brown of his bulging eyes do you launch yourself over his head swifter then he's able to comprehend. Flipping in the air above him you quietly land upon the soft earth once again before using all the strength you have left to throw yourself atop the man. His sword is ripped from his hands as you pin him to the ground in a fury.

His glossy brown eyes lock onto your flaming red ones, he shakes in fear before you push his neck to the side and bite down hard into his soft warm flesh. His scream pierces through your ears for a few seconds as he struggles underneath you, a moment later all goes silent as his body turns limp in your grasp. His blood is warm and absolutely delicious as it pours down your throat and seeps into your system, you can already feel your silver inflicted injuries healing as you drain the life from the soldiers body.

Once all his satiated and you feel one-hundred percent you again, do you release him, standing to your full height you turn around to face the wide blue eyes of Cahir. He quickly pulls his sword out as his horse neighs in nervousness underneath him.

"My god you're a vampire." He reveals astonished, swallowing hard as you study his fearful expression.

Blood trips down your chin and onto the grass below as an amused smirk plays at your lips, "A dhampir my good knight, sorry to disappoint." You chuckle, "Now I must be off, your friend was all I needed and now I am satisfied." He stares intently as you continue, "From here I plan to leave this fucking place and I intend to do so in peace. So I warn you, if you try and stop me I will end your pathetic life, you can try to slice me from atop your weak legged detestable meat-bag of shit. But if you dared raise that filthy sword at me, you will lose."

He blinks, thinking over your threatening proposition, just then he slowly brings the sword to his side and carefully sheaths it, his eyes never leave yours, "I will accept these terms." His hands tightly grip the leather reigns of his nervous horse. His face stoic as he clenches his jaw, he doesn't appear to appreciate being told off.

"Good." You smile politely, your face falling in an instant, "Now fuck off."

His face is stone as he clicks his tongue once more before kicking the sides of his steed, you watch as he hastily gallops on past you from a safe distance and out of sight into the thick brush.

This is a Knight of Nilfgaard, interesting.

——

After cleaning yourself up with crystal clear water from a nearby stream did you begin your search for a trail, anything that could take you to some kind of civilization or a fucking tavern for that matter. You wandered in bored frustration for almost the entirety of the day, your vampiric stamina keeping you awake and on guard as you trudge your way through the woods.

Your stomach growls, you haven't had a proper meal since Aretuza, and right now you're honestly desperate enough to take a bite out of anything. Though with the gracious scent of a deer wafting into your nostrils, your more primal instinct kicks in, your eyes narrow as you stalk your way through the bushes. The scrawny bastard stands near a tiny stream, you take another step and crack, a damn stick, the deer finds you standing in the greenery and books it away in the opposite direction.

Letting out an annoyed "fuck" you make good use of your legs by racing after the doe, your chase is short lived when she runs out of the wood line and closely past a horse and it's rider, though you're moving so fast that you don't have time to register what's in front of you until its too late. With a thud do you smack right into the front of the powerful mare, she neighs loudly in alarm while you stumble clumsily into the dirt.

Letting out a breathy huff, you inhale sharply, your sights fuzzy and spotted as you blink hard, trying to collect your bearings once again. Holding yourself up by your elbows you try and shake off the whiplash you've just received when the rider suddenly speaks in confused astonishment, "Y/N?"

Raising your head to the gruff voice your crimson eyes go wide in shock, your heart practically catching in your throat as you stare, "Uh, Geralt?"

His big beautiful golden irises trail across your disheveled state as you continue to stare, mouth a-gap, before he quickly jumps off of Roach and takes swift steps to your side, looking rather concerned. He reaches a hand down for you to take, that you willingly accept without a second thought he pulls you to your feet, quickly letting go of your hand, his brows furrowing as he tries to find his words.

"Y/N. How are you here...I though that you were....well, uh....where did you come from?" He questions, just about tripping over his words he's so confused but also incredibly relieved to see you nonetheless. It's been weeks.

"I...was hungry." Immediately slips out, nice one you idiot. His brows furrow once again, unsure what to do with that information and honestly taken so far aback by your random intrusion in the middle of nowhere.

He finally sighs, his eyes finding yours, "It's been almost four weeks."

You swallow, "Oh.....Has it now? Didn't notice." Your voice is smaller then you'd intended, but he can see right through your nonchalant answer. He knows you.

Clearing his throat he look to the ground then at a bush to your left, awkwardly avoiding your gaze as he thinks of what to say next, "Uh...I went to Cintra, and well, um....I didn't get the child surprise...the kingdom, it's gone to..."

"Shit." You nod, "Yeah, I know. I uh....went with Yennefer to Aretuza and uh.....happened to learn about Nilfgaards reign of terror from Triss." He looks at you with a puzzled raise of his grey brow, you give him the tiniest of smiles, "Long story." You shrug, "Even longer one if you really wanna know how I got here." You add with a familiar tinge of humor lacing your words that he's always loved.

His smile is small, but you catch it all the same as he finds your eyes once again, "Guess we both have a lot to catch up on. Although you might laugh when I tell you this," You raise an interested brow as he continues, "Calanthe wasn't very fond of my arrival in the slightest, so she had me set behind bars....and well," His eyes falling downcast, "I couldn't do anything to stop Cintra's destruction...."

"Sounds about right." You remark with a humored snort as you attempt to lighten up the mood once again, he lightly chuckles while you let a couple more friendly laughs slip out before falling into an awkward silence.

He looks to the ground as you shift your eyes to the trees before whispering, "Okay fuck I can't do this." He immediately snaps his attention over to you looking a tad bit afraid, shaking your head you shrug, "I'm skipping the heartfelt shit because Geralt, I wanted to shatter your kneecaps on that mountain...but, stay with me here...leaving you alone for a couple shitty weeks seems like enough of a fuck you." A small grin tugs at the corners of his lips as you break out into a smirk before your face falls once more, "But I am...Geralt I'm sorry for just leaving you there and I just...."

You let out a breath, yours eyes darting around his face as you try and figure out what he's feeling, he takes a cautious step forward, "You had every right to hate me, and even now. I can live with that and I can live without you by my side if that is what you choose." He says, not a shadow of falseness in his gravely voice.

You shake your head, blinking tears away that you didn't even realize started to form, "I could never hate you. Not now, not ever." A small grin tugs at the corners of his lips at your heartfelt words while you grace him with an affectionate smile, "I love you too much, you fucking idiot."

He takes another step closer, "I don't deserve you." Is all he's able to say as he gently opens his palm for you to take.

Slowly reaching out, you take his calloused hand, placing it upon the side of your cheek as you blissfully lean into his familiar touch with a warm smile adorning your features, "You definitely don't deserve me." He wraps his other arm around you, a genuine laugh reverberating from his strong chest as he presses himself against you.

Your foreheads pressed comfortably against one another now, "I've missed you so much." He whispers gently into the breeze.

You move your arms to hug him even closer, "I've missed you more then the moon and all the stars combined," You kiss the tip of his nose, "Though I won't hesitate to break both your legs and leave you a crippled man if you ever do that shit again." He chuckles at your passive aggressive yet loving threat, before pulling away to stare adoringly into your eyes.

His big golden irises shine like shimmering coins as he studies every inch of your face, his own one hides nothing as he shows pure love and admiration for you through his beaming grin, "I love you Y/N. Please never doubt that." He speaks softly as he presses his head flush with yours for the second time.

You chuckle, "Then never doubt this." He doesn't have time to reply as you hastily pull him in for a heated embrace, his lips are gentle and warm as you taste him. He's the same as you'd remembered. Full of fiery passion and feather light care all at the same time as his lips move with yours, hands trailing your sides as you feel him up just the same. Making sure to fully memorize each and every curve of one another that you'd both desperately missed from your time apart.

You slowly pull away, he follows your lips for a second before turning his head to find your scarlet irises, "As much as I'm wholeheartedly enjoying this, and much anticipating how you're going to make everything up to me later. I think we should get-a-riding before I decide to eat Roach."

He shakes his snowy mane, chuckling at your innate ability to always make him laugh, "You wouldn't dare." He jests, mock serious.

Gently squeezing his muscular bicep you eye him real close, your noses just about touching, "I would. And I bet she tastes, delicious." You add with a dramatic shift in your voice for humored emphasis of course. You'd never really eat Roach, well unless you happened to be desperate.

He suddenly hugs you even closer, his lips brushing against yours, sending shivers down your spine, "I know what could satisfy your hunger, my love." He whispers darkly, shifting the mood to your surprised enjoyment.

You lightly kiss his bottom lip, "Oh please, you may be a Witcher but there's no way you could handle me when I'm starved."

You can feel the electricity in the air, his scent and aurora shifting to that of lust, "I wouldn't mind your beautiful face as the last thing I see before I fall into darkness, never to wake again." Muses your Witcher with a small grin, "Sounds rather pleasant."

He bites his lip as you study his alluringly handsome face, "Too bad." You smirk as he watches your lips, "I'd miss your annoyingly attractive face and that ever enticing body of yours way too much to discard you like a forgetful rotten apple tossed to the side of the road."

In reply Geralt presses his plush inviting lips to yours, sending a pleasurable warmth beginning to blossom from deep within your chest, you can't help but to tug him even closer now. He's missed you a thousand times more then you'd first realized, and he is not disappointing with making a fraction of it up to you.

Roach snorts impatiently in the background causing you to laugh and Geralt to sneakily stick his tongue in your opened mouth.

You enjoy the surprisingly delightful sensation before a sudden thought sparks into your mind, pulling away from his enticing lips do you look up at his pouting face, your brows furrowed as you tilt your head at him.

"Where's Jaskier?"

-

Tagged:  @seninjakitey​  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

[subwalls]

Tales from the SMP Presents: The Pit

Another Tales, another Kingdom Hearts comparison post! “The Other Side” is a mix between the soundtrack The Other Promise and the cinematic “Another Side, Another Story” (both of which come from Kingdom Hearts, of course), which evokes a very specific KH character that... yeah. So let’s get into it.

Karl gets stabbed by the king’s new general and finds himself back in the Inbetween. A cool new logo pops up as we enter the Inbetween, which actually is a... very typical example of a Kingdom Hearts world logo / intro card / name card? I honestly don’t know what it’s called, it doesn’t have a name, it’s just a thing that happens every time the character enters a new world.

Castle Oblivion is just one (1) example, but if you just look up “Kingdom Hearts worlds” and scroll a bit, you’ll see what I’m talking about, haha. This doesn’t really change anything, it’s just another little wink and nod to the Kingdom Hearts series.

... Except, of course, the fact that there’s a title placard for this world implies the existence of other worlds. Which we eventually find out is, in fact, true. Fun! There’s a number of associations I could make based off the aesthetic of the logo (the castle reminds me of Radiant Garden, etc) but honestly they’re not worth much without more information.

So, the Inbetween is vividly aware of Karl’s straying from “the path”. It makes a huge attempt to still be pleasant and “nice” and whatever, but we can tell quite obviously that there’s an undercurrent of threat under all those pretty quartz blocks and smiles :]

Speaking of the :] smile, the reveal of Quackity’s previous lore stream actually doesn’t push me to think that it’s directly related to him in any way. It’s not impossible that c!Quackity achieved such heights as... becoming? The Inbetween? Because he’s got reason to be invested in Karl’s powers and keeping him in line. But it’s a reach or long-term thing at best, honestly, so I’m shelving the Quackity-smile association until further evidence appears.

(I could go bonkers and say that this is the culmination of c!Quackity’s ascension after ripping Information out of Dream or even XD, but that’s well into AU territory, so it’s all just shrug emojis for now.)

Which, of course, leads to the question of who that smile actually is associated with, and I think as clear an answer as we’re going to get is... The Inbetween itself. Clearly.

There’s a lot of meaning I could take from that; is it associated with Dream or XD then? Or maybe is it tapping into Karl’s memories of c!Dream doing the :) thing and it’s appropriating that for itself? Why? To intimidate Karl into obeying it?

Mayhaps. Mayhaps!

Anyway, Karl goes up to the tree, and as he approaches, the video feed distorts as the game abruptly switches to a higher-level shader like BSL or something.

Now, I haven’t confirmed it, but the way the audio shifts makes me think it suddenly started playing backwards, too. It’s just the way it sounds; it’s got that... sucking effect that’s pretty typical of musical tracks played backwards.

Karl swims down to the hidden room, which is very dark now. There is a book that tells him to go up the ladder for a surprise.

Also, by the way, I’m back on my wither rose pot association brainrot, because I can’t help but notice that there isn’t one here. There was one in the previous Inbetween segment, but it’s gone now. Now there’s a new book with the :] smiley, which of course should set the audience on edge, since we just saw the first book use it in a... mildly threatening manner.

We know that in Dream SMP it’s a pretty common thing to use redstone as blood. Other characters have used it in bits, some more seriously than others, and I think that’s what this room is trying to emulate.

If I had to guess, I’d... hm.

A part of me wants to say that the blood is probably from the different versions of Karl wandering around. Nobody’s going to notice if a few abruptly take a swerve to bleed themselves out in a room or something, right? But that carries a lot of implications, namely that of control so perfect it borders on possession. So either the Inbetween can control Karls, or it has some other agent capable of dragging something into this chamber to bleed it all over the room.

Neither of those options are particularly nice, I’ll admit!

There’s no Kingdom Hearts associations here, by the way. Due to being so closely tied with Disney, KH is deathly allergic to portraying blood in any way lmao. Not so many messages carved into the walls.

Or painted onto the walls with blood, if that’s what that is. Color correction gets a bit odd with shaders, so I’m not saying anything for certain; the closed books don’t look enchantment-purple, for example.

What does catch my eye are the torches, which will later be the flickering lights that guide Karl to the portal. The fact that they are here makes me think that this was definitely the scene of either a battle or some other conflict between the two sides to this story (haha, get it, Another Side, Another Story, because that’s a Thing in KH—), or at least proves that an influence from The Other Side was here at some point in time.

Karl quickly gets the fuck out of there, and when he swims back to the surface the shaders/music switch back to normal.

Oh, and for all you people who like to point fingers at anything vaguely false and scream “that’s gAsLiGhTiNg!!!1!!111″ about it, here’s an actual attempt at gaslighting. Note the language used here: “Your mind seems to be playing tricks on you :]”. It’s explicitly trying to convince him not to trust his own senses and mind. It’s saying, let me think for you. And that is a very dangerous thing.

Wither rose pot exists again, yay. Definitely a Inbetween voice, this book.

More wither rose book, this time in the, uh, grand entrance hall? The lobby? Yeah.

This book basically goes on a spiel about how the Inbetween is so great for Karl (a declaration, by the way, rather than a hope) and says that he is doubting himself or being less like himself, which is odd, because what he’s really doing is doubting the Inbetween and the path it has laid out for him. In a way, by questioning the Inbetween, Karl is being truer to himself than anything else.

The malicious way this place frames its words becomes more and more obvious with each passing page; it again reminds him that it’s a place to be “feel at ease”, which is super sketch that it has to tell him outright rather than actually being that place. It continues attempting to gaslight him, telling him that his imagination is getting away from him and that he can’t trust himself or anything else but this “path”.

I’ll get back to the “path” thing in a minute, but I really want to drive home that this is the truest instance of gaslighting we’ve ever had on the Dream SMP. Nothing has ever so clearly declared that it must be trusted over the victim’s own senses, practically infantilizing the victim’s concerns and trying to make them think that their worries are just flights of fancy. Please, please keep this in mind any time you want to accuse a character of gaslighting in the future; not all psychological abuse is a form of gaslighting. Sometimes it’s just... abuse. It’s not any more or less worse than gaslighting, it’s just different.

Anyway, about the “path” that the Inbetween is so obsessed with. No idea what the fuck that’s talking about.

In Kingdom Hearts, the only paths that are really of import are is a specific character’s “road to dawn” (redemption without fully yielding his edginess, essentially) or the “paths” that characters take to traverse between different worlds. I really don’t think the Inbetween has anything to do with either of them, but I’ll leave the options there if you want to peruse the possibilities.

What’s more likely, I think, is that this is a vaguely more subtle version of control/possession. The “path” is just “whatever the Inbetween wants you to do”.

Our next book is from the other side, and is plastered nonchalantly but boldly against the wall with no flower pot or anything.

Karl picks it up, puts it in his inventory (which probably indicates that he’s keeping this particular route close to his heart, rather than whatever the Inbetween is trying to make him do), and then the video stutters and he teleports back to the main entrance.

There’s a new book. It’s spooky as fuck, and hilariously hypocritical.

The tone shift is immediate, of course, aided by the abrupt change in background music since he got teleported back here. (I can’t quite nail it down; I assume it’s a slowed KH track like the others, but it doesn’t quite ring any bells for me.) The way the Inbetween speaks through these books has changed too, though; it addresses him by name without any attempt to cover up its intentions with flowery softness.

It does a cool fun thing where it says that it knows more than Karl, and knows what’s right, and then goes on to say that those visions shouldn’t dictate his opinion on the inbetween. (I’m keeping an eye on that lowercase, by the way. Not sure if it’s a typo or intentional, since it’s still one word, but.) As though he should trust the Inbetween’s opinions of itself rather than his own brain? A’ight. Sure, Jan.

Again it tries to tell him that it’s safe here. The lying is getting more transparent now.

He puts this book back, the previous book back, and runs after a double of himself until the shaders and music glitch again.

Fun thing about shaders is that they make dark areas... much, much darker. Especially since we saw that Karl’s got night vision (the effect, for cinematic purposes) on.

The music has a few notes that again sound as though they’re being played backwards.

The book on the tree in this courtyard does not come with its own little wither rose pot, and neither does it seem to come from the Inbetween, since it’s telling him some awful things about these other versions of himself.

It confirms a few things about the mystery other selves, namely that they’re definitely condemned to walk the castle forever, but it doesn’t really tell us why this happens or why the Inbetween (probably) wants this to happen. What’s the end goal?

We’re probably a bit early in the story to figure that out, but they’re questions worth keeping in mind as this storyline progresses.

Karl gets teleported back to the main lobby, which looks very dark and spooky, though in the transition we do see a glimpse of that portal. There are torches around the wither pot book pedestal, and the audio really kicks into high gear with the creepy notes and the visuals get stretched and glitch quite a bit as he opens the book.

Funnily enough, the audio kind of reminded me of some pokemon encounter music, but I think that’s just because I’ve got those notes wired into my brain from years of playing those games. Anyway! The book tells him this is not a warning, and that they’re gonna fucking come for him to make sure he sticks with their path.

“We”.

Who is “we”? Is the Inbetween a collective? Is the Inbetween just part of a different whole? Maybe it counts all the different Karls as a part of it.

Either way, it’s creepy and threatening. Karl starts running; the screen glitches and tells him to follow the torches, which at first I was kind of leery about trusting, but the next series of words helped clear up exactly what side those words are on.

Also, you’ll notice that some other text kinda skitters across the screen before the English, like it’s getting translated. I think it’s Galactic, which is something different from the thing that Ranboo uses for Ender? I think Ranboo uses the Alien language thing or something? I’m not 100% sure on that, feel free to correct me and I’ll fix this portion.

It certainly implies that the speaker isn’t communicating in the server equivalent of “common”, however. Not sure if they’re translating into English or if Karl inherently understands it and it’s translated into English for the audience’s convenience, but either way, the other speaker might be linked to something completely different.

Karl runs on with encouragement and creepy music until he finally arrives at the portal, which is not barred off like it was last time. Thanks, whoever’s responsible for that!

The music dies for this final book.

The Inbetween’s last-ditch attempt to make him stay. It calls him silly a couple of times, and smiles at the end with a :]

Problem is, we and Karl already know that staying with the Inbetween will keep him from his friends. And the voice tells him to leave for his friends.

Karl looks around at this place that calls itself his sanctuary, and makes his decision.

He arrives at The Other Side.

The music appears to be drawn from parts of either The Other Promise or Roxas’ Theme, both of which are heavily tied to the character known as Roxas. The version that Karl uses is slower and lower, the same as with the Dearly Beloved track he uses for his Inbetween segments.

Honestly, I’m not as certain on this as I could be, because I couldn’t find the exact variation on Youtube and there are parts that could just be Emotional rather than Roxas-related, I’m not sure. I’ll probably come back and fix this if it’s untrue.

EDIT: Yeah, uh, it’s Ven’s theme, not Roxas’, but the world itself is still heavily associated with Roxas in naming themes.

For now, I’m going off the assumption that the decision to make both the name and the theme of this world relevant to Roxas is purposeful, which means I’m... going to attempt to explain who Roxas is and what his story is.

Oh boy.

To grossly oversimplify the situation, Roxas is a “part” of Sora who develops his own sense of identity, is betrayed, gets coerced into murdering his best friend, gets kidnapped, gets memory wiped, and then—when he gets his memory back and realizes he super hates his captors—is convinced by those same captors to give up his existence because he “isn’t a real person” and if he lives then Sora will never wake up. So he “dies” and becomes a part of Sora again until later.

(Sora, by the way, is asleep due to the events in Castle Oblivion, which you might recognize as That Place I Keep Associating The Inbetween With.)

He’s also a fan favorite lmao. Take from that as you will, and, I don’t know, flip through his wiki page or something. Can’t guarantee it’s all understandable though.

My point to bringing Roxas up is that his arc... kind of parallels Karl’s. He did his job working for superiors he didn’t really understand in a white castle, with the higher-ups trying to control him, until he realized he was losing his friend/s to them. At that point, he defects. I think this is the point that Karl has reached, in his own storyline. He’s pulled away from the thing that’s made itself known to him, and now he’s wandering down something that hopefully isn’t as awful as the beast he’s just left behind.

Roxas also doesn’t get his happy ending for a long, long time.

Let’s hope Karl is different.

Off the top of my head, I can tell you that the mood this world creates is very reminiscent of some areas that the Kingdom Hearts games explore in 0.2 (yes, zero point two, that is the number of that game. This fucking series, man), specifically Castle Town, in which the player character has to smack a bunch of clock gears to make time go backwards in order to proceed, which is fun. But no exact inspirations come to mind the same way that Castle Oblivion did for the Inbetween.

Until we get a better look at the interiors, I’m going to gently claim that this build is more original and doesn’t take inspiration quite as directly from a Kingdom Hearts source, so there might not be an exact parallel. There isn’t a black castle in Kingdom Hearts that I can think of, honestly.

Also, I will say that I’m going to take this episode as confirmation that the wither roses are associated with the Inbetween and appear next to books that come from / are related to the Inbetween, especially since The Other Side associates itself with a completely different flower: the white tulip.

Anyway, The Other Side tells him he’s home, and that they’ll explore more soon.

This... eerily parallels the Inbetween, which told him that he’s safe, and has lots to explore.

I can’t say that I immediately trust The Other Side, but neither can I say that I inherently distrusted it the same way I did with the Inbetween. We’re going to have to wait and see how this place behaves in future episodes to get a good grasp of it. Who built these places? Are they alive, and writing the books, or is there a mastermind behind them? We still don’t have a lot of the answers, but that’s okay.

For now, I’m content to know that Karl is away from the more obvious perils of the Inbetween.

It could still be a trap, but for now, it’s a refuge.

[aenwoedbeannaa]

Pretty Words | Geralt x Reader

Requested by: salmonbutter 

Summary: Geralt may have needed some help finding a book, and the bookkeeper's apprentice may be the reason he keeps coming back. 

Word Count: 2,319 

Warnings: Implied smut.

The first time he came into the rather blandly named Book Emporium, you had been an Apprentice, still shaking with nerves every time the bell on the door announced the coming of a customer. Now, of course, you can handle curious visitors with ease--you know every nook and cranny of the shop. You know where to find books on monsters, from alghouls to wyrvenns. You know which books identify plants and their magical properties, and which books can help an herbalist use those very same plants to create poisons.

But, on the day that the Witcher first walked into the store, you were probably more lost than he was as you dashed between the stacks, trying to find the book he was looking for. You could feel your face blushing, your cheeks positively on fire, when he gave you a playful feline grin and pulled a book off of the shelf that you would not have been able to reach without stepping up onto the battered wooden ladder.

You were scared, because this was your first time alone in the shop, and you didn't want Artur to think you incompetent. You wiped your sweaty palms on your apron, feigning nonchalance. You were desperately trying to think of something to say, anything to break the tension.

Thankfully, you didn't have to.

"Well, with it being all the way up here, it's not a wonder that you didn't see it," he said with a smirk. 

****

The second time the bells chimed and you looked up to see his familiar white hair, you were thankfully much more composed. It had been at least a couple of months since you had last seen him, and you wondered if he had used that book on wraiths to kill one. He was a Witcher, after all.

You maneuvered around the few stray piles of books behind the counter and stepped around front to greet him.

"Geralt!" You exclaimed, a bit too brightly.

Mentally cursing yourself for looking, you assumed, like a star-struck villager. "How can I help you, Sir?"

"You can start," he began slowly in that gravely tone that you'd been playing over and over in your head since the last time he'd been here, "By dropping the Sir." 

You nodded--too eagerly, once again. "Of course! Sorry si--Geralt."

"Second, I didn't catch your name last time, Miss."

Given that you had spent most of your life lost in books, you were not used to that question. You were invisible to most people, it seemed.

"Y/N," you answered timidly.

You weren't sure if it was the fact that you were not so great at hiding your emotions or whether he could hear your hammering heartbeat with his Witcher senses, but either way, you heart leapt into your throat when he leaned over on the counter, bringing his face only inches from yours.

"Are you always this nervous, Y/N?" He leaned slightly closer, a seemingly out-of-place grin on his lips. "Or are you scared of Witchers?"

It was a rhetorical question, but you answered anyway, conversation coming easy despite all of the awkwardness.

"No, not afraid of Witchers," you said, a vivid memory coming to mind. "Once, when I was little, I was sitting out in the field--on the hill--you know, the one outside the town a ways away?"

He nodded understanding, so you continued on.

"Well, I was reading, and all of a sudden, this thing... " You shuddered at the memory, losing your train of thought for a moment.

"A Drowner?" the Witcher interrupted your strangled thoughts. "The stream there is teeming with them. They usually stay well away from settlements, though." His amber eyes hinted concern as he looked at you expectantly.

You nodded, pushing the unpleasant memory out of your head.

"Yes, a Drowner... And anyway, there was a Witcher... He hacked it up pretty well."

"I'll have to thank him," Geralt said so seriously that you believed him wholeheartedly.

"Vizimir was his name," you added, surprised you could still remember. "He wouldn't even let me pay. I offered him the book I was reading--I didn't have any gold, you see."

"So, the old man doesn't always follow the Witcher Code," he said with a gleam in his eye.

There was a moment of silence before he finally broke eye contact and leaned back, eyes scanning the stacks of books behind you as if searching for something to focus on.

"I am here for a book about similar things," he said. "Would you happen to know if you have a book about alghouls, would you?"

This time, you knew exactly where to point him. He still stuck around to hear your explanation of three different volumes and the slight difference between.

He bought all three.

***

The pattern continued over the next few months. Every few weeks, the door chime would sound and you would look up to see your silver-haired friend.

One time in particular, you were surprised to see that the afternoon had faded to twilight and the candles had burned down nearly to stumps as you poured over books with Geralt. He was researching a Witcher potion, or something like it that was more suitable for humans. He didn't tell you what for, but it didn't matter much.

He ended up purchasing one of the rare texts, the ones you had to fish out from the back room.

Another time, he caught you off guard, while you were completely wrapped up in the novel you were reading. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard his voice from just over the counter. Your embarrassment only grew when he asked you what it was that you were so interested in that you hadn't even heard the door chime and you had to give him a brief synopsis of a fictional kingdom... and a princess and a knight.

It was really quite mortifying.

***

Though you will never admit it, your favorite section of the store is nestled in the back corner, where the deceptively large collection of fiction is stacked on crowded shelves. Your mentor is always telling you that you should be reading books of more importance. But those books, as important as they may be, are of little interest to you. You know enough about history and mankind to know that the history books are full of only war, pestilence, and suffering.

Reading is your escape. So, important or not, you spend many a quiet afternoon nestled in the back of the shop on one of the old chairs that has been scratched to pieces by the bookshop's cat, Erasmus. (An old, fearsome looking but completely harmless thing with a bad habit of sharpening his claws on the furniture and chewing on the corners of priceless manuscripts.)

This is where Geralt caught you this time. Though, to be fair, you heard the door chime, and you'd had to scramble out of your warm little corner. It was actually just past closing hours, and there had hardly been a soul in the shop all day. It was one of those early winter days, where the weather seemed to be reminding everyone of the bitter cold to come.

"Y/N," Geralt grinned, "I found your lair." He had somehow managed to cross the length of the shop in only a couple seconds. How Witcher-y of him. You told him so.

By now, you had slipped into an easy friendship with the Witcher. You no longer stammered when he talked. At least, most of the time you didn't.

It took you a moment to realize that he was carrying something this time--a book. You raised an eyebrow, also immediately realizing that it was not a book from the shop. This one had a ribbon tied around it. Artur was not one for such frivolous things. There was not a scrap of ribbon or wrapping paper in the entire shop, you were sure. So he must have brought this with him.

Clearly aware that you were staring curiously, he offered it to you--for once, he was the one with a slightly bashful look on his face as he waited for you to take it.

You took the book in both hands, blushing slightly as you pulled the ribbon loose and inspected the cover. It was well-worn, just like most of the books in the shop. You recognized the author, though, and your eyes sparkled as you teared up slightly. You didn't even remember the last time someone had given you a gift.

"But..." You stammered, flipping through the pages in disbelief. "This isn't even supposed to exist!" It was a continuation of the book that he'd caught you reading before. It was published only once, so there were an incredibly limited number of copies. Sure enough, you saw the words 'first edition' printed on the yellowing page. "I mean... there are only, maybe, fifty in all the world!"

The Witcher's amber gaze was fixed on you as you poured excitedly over the text. "Well, I see a lot of the world," he said. "With my job, and all."

His words only served to fill you with more emotion. You wiped your eyes quickly, not wanting to look stupid for crying over a silly book. "Thank you, Geralt," you said, eyes fixed on the book so that you wouldn't have to look up at him with tears in your eyes. "Truly."

You registered the feeling of his calloused fingers under your chin at half-speed. The world seemed to slow down has he titled your face up to his. He brushed a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. His touch was gentle even though his skin was rough. Your knees nearly buckled.

"Don't cry on me, Y/N," he said, voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "I'm glad you like it."

For what felt like an endless time, but was probably only a few seconds, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other, unable to look away as if held by magic.

Tension pulled tight as a rope when he spoke next.

"I'm not an expert on these kinds of things, but a when there are no monsters to save the Princess from, it only seems right that the Knight brings her a present."

"I...Gera--" he cut off you stuttering by pulling you firmly into his arms and pressing his lips to yours.

You responded immediately, so quickly that the book slipped from your hands as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back. Breathing seemed basically out of the question when one one of his arms snaked around your waist and the other tangled itself firmly in your hair.

You had to admit, you certainly felt like a princess when he picked you up, avoiding the stray stacks of books littering the floor. You were absolutely certain, though, that the cold of his Witcher medallion pressing against your chest was a far more pleasant feeling that chain mail would.

You had approximately a millisecond to catch your breath when he pulled away to lay you on on the oversized chair and strip off his weapons and then he was on top of you, with his lips on your neck.

You had no idea how much time passed between that first kiss and when you lay with your head in his lap, his fingers stroking your hair, out of breath and utterly spent. All you knew was that you'd knocked more than a few piles of books over. There was lots of moaning--you? Him? Your head was still too clouded to remember.

Finally, though, you had to get up and pull your clothes back on. You couldn't very well sleep in the store, no matter how much you wanted to just lay there, curled up against his warmth.

Geralt stayed with you as you did your final rounds around the shop, extinguishing candles and placing loose books, abandoned by customers in the strangest of places, as usual. Thankfully, this was a relatively simple task considering you knew the bookshop like the back of your hand. Admittedly, it was a task you usually did in the morning before the shop opened. But Geralt was here now, and you wanted to stretch your time with him as far as you could.

Soon enough, however, every stray book was in its place, and all but the candle glowing on the wall next to the door were long-cold. You hesitated in the doorway, keenly aware of Geralt standing only inches away.

You blinked up at him, feeling uncertain of what you should say next. This was not a position that you were often in. In fact, it was a situation that you were never in.

Finally, you manage to cobble together a sentence out of the thousands of words in your head.

"I do hope to see you again soon, Geralt."

The Witcher's amber eyes are fixed on yours, looking like liquid gold even in the faint light of the single candle.

"Well, it is winter," he said thoughtfully. "And I was thinking that this year, perhaps, I'd like to do my wintering somewhere away from Kaer Moren."

You smiled then, tentatively reaching out to touch him, but pulling back at the last moment. You chewed on your lip for a moment, heartbeat racing in your chest.

"I know a place that you could stay."

Geralt's gaze had not left you for a moment, but now he reached to pull you to his chest, pressing a kiss on the top of your head, stopping for a moment to breathe in the smell of your hair.

Geralt pulled away slightly, one large hand resting on each shoulder.

"Please, lead the way, Princess," he said as he blew out the final candle. 

[enchanted-prose]

#16 Blackberry Night i

in which the lady renlyn gets a vibe check

Word count: 4,502

Characters: the whole squad (including fink and kerwyn) so im not gonna list all of them because we’d be here for a while

Notes: every girl deserves a cinderella moment

Enjoy!

His room was too sparsely decorated to be distracting. Jaron tugged on Imogen’s long braid, earning a light hearted smack.

He’d called for a meeting with his inner circle half an hour before, but hadn’t expected anyone to arrive early, not while the morning sun was still shoving its way across the horizon.

However, Tobias was standing before him. Quaking before him.

“I’m in a much better mood,” Jaron tugged on Imogen’s braid again, and managed to catch her hand. “Ha! Caught you!”

Imogen made a face, “Would you like a blue ribbon for that, love?”

“I would, actually. Give it to me now.”

Tobias coughed, “I, ah, I decided to let you rest before I told you what I found out.”

Saints, what had he asked during his feverish ramblings this time?

The events from the previous evening bled into a continuous stream. Checking on Feall, the blow to his leg, and then falling asleep in the physician’s chambers. Jaron tapped his knee. He and Imogen were discussing Mireldis Thay that morning. They’d figured out a link to her: Jolly.

“Is it- is she dead? Did Jolly have the information we wanted?” Jaron trailed his thumb over each of Imogen’s knuckles.

He could hear his own words echoing back at him, the unintelligible claims of fever and exhaustion. Jaron brushed a strand of hair away from Imogen's face, repeating the motion despite having tucked all of her stray hairs back into place. He'd had a suspicion about who Mireldis Thay was.

No, no.

He had several suspicions, ranging from Ayvar all the way down to Dawn of the Dragon's Keep.

Although the latter was seeming more and more unlikely with each passing day.

Tobias looked to Imogen, "I told Amarinda a few minutes ago, I didn't want either of you to be alarmed."

"Are you Mireldis Thay?" Jaron pressed a hand to his heart.

It was thumping too hard in his chest. Trying to escape.

Trying to find a safe place to rest. To let stone walls down and grow branches. Tree branches, specifically. Ones strong enough to climb and hide in.

Patience was a virtue Jaron never cared to master. His rabbit heart only proved that.

"Saints curse it all, stop hesitating and just tell me what you were able to find out," Jaron burst.

Imogen flinched.

"I, ah, well," Tobias scratched the back of his head, apparently finding his toes much more interesting than Jaron's frown. "I should warn you that Jolly's not afraid, or at least that's what he told me."

"This isn't about Jolly, it's about Mireldis Thay."

"But it is about Jolly, Jaron. And Feall. Everyone here has become a pawn and none of us caught it."

The rabbit thumping in Jaron's ribs wasn't easing. He tried to calm himself by pressing Imogen's fingers to his chin.

Pieces of a game.

Pawns.

Jaron had been a pawn before, and he had no intention of going back.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He muttered.

"You were unconscious, Jaron, you wouldn't have been able to understand," Imogen's quiet reminder almost made his frustration melt.

"I haven't spoken with Feall," Tobias finally looked up. "He's still resting and it's cruel to try to force words from an injured man. We were fools to put pressure on Amarinda and not him. Ami's lived in Carthya for more than a decade, Feall hasn't."

There was a simple reason behind respecting Feall's privacy, and Jaron hated it. He hated that he'd been too trusting.

And yet, Feall had given them so many reasons to trust him.

"You still haven't told me what you found, Tobias."

Silence chills, even in the middle of summer. Jaron's room was far too cold, far too quiet.

"Jolly never gave Lady Thay's name outright," Tobias rolled his shoulders back, as if bracing himself for some sudden death at sharing his secret. "Instead, he informed me that Mireldis Thay has indeed been in Carthya this entire time, talking with us and earning our trust. She's been here the entire time, ever since Feall and King Oberson came to pay homage to you. And there's only one person I can think of that's been here, becoming friends with us."

The words were too frightening to say.

“Renlyn Karise,” Jaron frowned. “You mean to tell me Renlyn Karise is Mireldis Thay?”

Tobias nodded.

However, Imogen shook her head in disagreement. “That’s impossible, you know how much she and Feall get along with each other. Feall’s told us multiple times that the Faola attacking him had to be Mireldis Thay.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” said Jaron.

“How did Amarinda take it?” Imogen asked.

“Ah, she- she didn’t accept the news. She still hasn’t accepted the news. We agreed to think on the matter and discuss it once we’ve both sat with the information.”

Amarinda didn’t take the news well?

Could she  be blamed?

Renlyn Karise had a murderous stare and an ambiguous streak, but Jaron couldn’t picture her being bold enough to kick him and crawl back to the castle.

Though maybe he was wrong. He’d gambled on another person’s behavior before.

Playing the long game was something Jaron knew well. It took skill and foresight, both traits were something Renlyn needed to maintain a series of business ventures.

She’d tricked him into buying things, and now he’d trick her into revealing herself.

“I’ll handle it,” Jaron sat straight up, jostling Imogen in the process.

“Jaron, we’re here to help y-“ she began.

“Please tell me you didn’t invite her to the meeting,” said Tobias, pressing his hands to his forehead. “By the Saints, you invited her to the meeting.”

Yes, actually, Jaron did invite Renlyn.

But for a different reason than Tobias and Imogen expected.

Roden was among the first people to visit Jaron that morning, bringing news of the Faola’s escape with him. News of Regar helping with the escape. Jaron hid his disappointment with a cheeky grin and quick forgiveness.

In the end, Regar’s imprisonment would only help Jaron. He’d read a series of letters since Row and Regar came to Drylliad.

One could only see the same name so many times before noticing patterns.

If Jaron’s guess was correct, he’d give himself a medal.

“She holds valuable opinions once you get past her general unapproachability,” Jaron grinned.

“I don’t think we should be taking this so lightly,” said Tobias. He looked like a preening crow each time he patted down his deep green vest. “Your bruise runs too deep for jokes.”

“See, there’s a detail you forgot. Did you catch it, Imogen?”

The slight shake from Imogen’s head gave Jaron his answer.

He’d mulled over the prospect of catching Mireldis Thay for several days before cracking down and searching through books. When that didn’t help, Jaron turned to Kerwyn, who’d been present during King Eckbert’s search for a suitable bride. The search led Eckbert to Amarinda, in turn leading to a rush of Bymarian information.

Kerwyn knew little more than Jaron, but that was better than nothing. Kerwyn knew the names of all seventeen Bymarian noble lords, their five kingdom states, and their five lesser kings. Graer Thay was a staunch military leader, who’d left the keys to his kingdom state to his second wife.

Graer Thay vanished just before the Avenian war.

Queen Danika’s investigators should’ve been looking for two Thays, not one.

Tobias was rubbing his wrists, and glanced over his shoulder. Once he’d finished with his wrists, he tugged at his shirt’s collar. His odd ritual continued as he patted the hem of his vest.

“Jolly never gave you the actual name, Tobias, you made an assumption,” Jaron explained. “A very compelling assumption, yes, but believability doesn’t make something true.”

Tobias scowled, “You’re the one who asked me to be a spy! Let me stitch a person back together while you manage to topple entire regimes because you’re slippery enough.”

“We haven’t toppled a king recently,” Imogen tapped her chin. “We should add that to our future plans.”

“You’re right! We’ve focused too long on our own problems, it’s high time that we cause

problems for somebody else,” said Jaron. “Let’s practice on Tobias.”

“Jaron! I’m your friend, your doctor, your regent, and a member of your inner circle! That’s not a good idea!”

People often forgot how easy it was for Jaron to remember details.

Details like Roden rubbing his neck and Mott grabbing his side when a door shut loud enough.

Tobias’s little detail was much quieter than reaching for an invisible pain. He patted his clothes, his hair, his wrists.

Almost like he was checking to make sure that he was still alive.

The antidote for these bursts of eerie movement varied from person to person. With Imogen, Jaron reached for her hands. With Mott, it was holding a conversation.

With Tobias, it was merciless teasing to the point of a frustrated outburst.

“Let’s replace every single one of his left socks with socks that are two sizes too big,” Jaron gestured to Tobias’s boots. “Not too damaging, but enough to cause discomfort.”

“Don’t be cruel, he did do you a favor last night,” Imogen said.

Tobias opened his mouth to speak, but Jaron cut him off. “That’s why the socks will only be two sizes bigger instead of being made from woven metal.”

“Metal cloth is saved for gowns, not socks,” Tobias crossed his arms.

“They’ll make an exception for me.”

The door creaked open. Roden held a hand to his eyes, “Stop yelling, I haven’t eaten breakfast.”

“Didn’t I just see you?” Jaron frowned.

“I had an errand to run.”

“That’s what Fink’s for.”

“It wasn’t a Fink type of errand.”

Mott and Amarinda entered next, going their separate ways when Amarinda stood beside Tobias.

Amarinda’s frown, though small, couldn’t be missed.

Roden and Mott began dragging chairs to Jaron’s bedside as more people came. Imogen would sit on Jaron’s left, while Harlowe sat on his right.

Jaron took great care to instruct everyone to leave the seat nearest to the corner open for Renlyn.

It provided both privacy and openness.

The corner would feel like a hiding place despite having no cover.

Renlyn slipped into the room just before Harlowe with Fink serving as her escort. When Fink received his nod of approval from Mott, he crossed his legs and sat at the end of Jaron’s bed.

A good move; chairs weren’t always ideal.

There was never any rest for the weary. Despite the ache in his leg and Tobias’s insistence that he rested, Jaron had his trusted circle gathered around his bed. He’d made his decision regarding several situations.

Jaron held out a hand to Imogen. Her touch was almost enough to take the pain away.

“Let’s get this all out of the way,” he stretched his arms above his head. “I have every intention of yelling at Renlyn for putting up decorations while I was trying to recover.”

Renlyn only smirked.

Much had happened during the night, or at least that’s what Imogen told him as she helped him hobble back to his bed. Regar was in prison, the Faola who attacked Jaron escaped, and Lord Row was still waiting to know if Carthya would help Avenia.

“Shall we start with the happier business or get right to depressing ourselves?” Jaron leaned back against his pillows, eying the people around his bed.

Imogen, Amarinda, Mott, Tobias, Roden, Renlyn, Harlowe, Fink, and Kerwyn.

His greatest supporters.

Harlowe patted the papers in front of him, “I suppose the happier business, it’ll soften the difficulties to come.”

“I’ve done this in an unorthodox way,” Jaron said. “We can’t hesitate to help Avenia, not if we want to promote good relations. Lord Row requests a Carthyan presence in Isel, and it is what he’ll get. Harlowe, we will station soldiers in Libeth, and place Sir Alistair Derforgall in Isel.”

“Alistair’s a good choice,” Roden nodded.

“I know, it’s why he’s going to Isel. He has enough experience to be useful and enough smarts not to do something stupid.”

Amarinda’s back was as straight as a rod, “Lord Row will be pleased.”

He’d better be happy. Jaron didn’t want to throw out military assistance to every lord who threw himself at the king’s throne.

Renlyn raised her hand, and spoke when Jaron nodded to her. “I have several holdings in Isel that require protecting, I’ll likely hire an army should revolution break out, they’ll be there to assist Alistair.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” said Jaron.

“I’ll try to meet your expectations then.”

Was that really the face of a cold blooded killer?

Probably.

Jaron ran his thumb over Imogen’s fingers as Harlowe scribbled down Jaron’s decision on a piece of parchment.

“Speaking of foreign powers, what are we to do with King Oberson?” Kerwyn stroked his massive beard.

He looked like a philosopher of old.

“We can’t turn him away, it’s rude and I have no intention of making any new enemies,” Jaron gestured to his leg. “I already have one too sneaky to be caught.”

“It’s time you started taking soldiers with you when you leave the castle,” Mott said.

“For the first time, I think you might be right.”

Tobias’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “Is it raining ducks outside? Are pigs flying? I never thought I’d see the day that Jaron agrees with Mott regarding his own safety.”

“And onto the next subject,” Jaron pointed a finger at Tobias; he’d get him back for that comment later. “Commander Regar is currently waiting on us to hear about his fate. Roden, would you mind explaining the situation from last night to us?”

Roden’s expression hardened. “Last night after the attack on Jaron, I tracked Regar to the Vaults. He’d already captured the Faola responsible for the attack, and chose to behave according to the old laws rather than turn the Faola over to the crown’s custody.”

“Odd,” Mott scowled. “And alarming.”

“Regar managed to help us get the Faola out of the Vaults,” Roden continued. “However, he claims to have slipped and he caught my shoulder for balance, allowing the Faola to escape. I doubt the Faola stuck around.”

“I think the Faola did stick around,” countered Tobias. “I think he’s still in the castle.”

“But why?” Fink scratched his nose. “You’d be an idiot to stick around a place where everyone wants you dead.”

Jaron cracked a sly grin, a faint memory of teasing Fink back at the pirates’ camp snatching his attention.

“The Faola likely has another goal they value more than their own life,” Renlyn clasped her hands in her lap. “Foolish from our perspective, yes, but to the Faola it must be important.”

“We’ll discuss the matter of the Faola later,” Jaron said. “Regar’s situation requires our attention for a moment.”

“Will you give him the punishment for treason?” Kerwyn leaned back in his chair.

“That’s not something to be taken lightly, and I won’t have somebody executed for treason based off of a stumble.”

“His stumble could cost you your life, my king.”

Jaron waved his hand, “Did you know you can rearrange the letters of certain words to form other words?”

“Jaron, please.”

“I’ve chosen to pardon Regar as a demonstration of kindness and also because I think he holds some use to us,” he said. Jaron squeezed Imogen’s hand, “Besides, it would be disrespectful to kill Lord Row’s hired commander after telling him we’ll give Avenia the aid she needs. You don’t make friends by giving them a prize and then breaking their foot.”

“We’re playing this game for friends now?” Renlyn arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, yes we are. Does that bother you, Lady Karise?”

“Not every friendship holds the best intentions, my king.”

Tobias plucked at his collar, his eyes glancing from Renlyn to Jaron without a hint of subtlety.

The trap had been set. Jaron kept his gaze locked on Renlyn. She didn’t seem like she’d run away, but he’d been wrong about her before.

“A bold claim, coming from a girl wearing a false name,” Jaron kept his voice even, kept his face almost icy. “The pattern was hard to follow, but it made sense. Lord Feall came here first, followed by Jolly, followed by you.”

Renlyn’s movement was slow. Too slow.

She had the speed of a predator tensing before a pounce.

“Just what are you suggesting, my lord?” Renlyn asked. Her eyebrows had risen and her mouth curled down. She was daring him.

Daring him to say the name.

“I’m suggesting that you’re Mireldis Thay,” Jaron forced a smile. “You sent Jolly here to gather intel on Lord Feall, you joined the Faola, and used that as a cover to kill him while still maintaining a comfortable life.”

The silence that followed rivaled the chilling, never ending void of a coffin.

Everyone looked to Renlyn, but she never looked away from Jaron.

“That poses a curious question,” Renlyn mused. “I’m not not Mireldis Thay, just as Princess Amarinda is not not Mireldis Thay. Are we all who we really say we are, your Majesty?”

“Answer the question,” Roden growled. He’d pushed his chair away from the bed, obviously preparing to apprehend Renlyn.

Mott had mimicked the motion.

“Ask it again, if you didn’t like what I said. Be more direct.”

Renlyn was pushing her limits on purpose, Jaron recognized the way she danced around the question. He inhaled, watching for any betrayal of emotion on her face.

All she did was stare at him.

“Are you Mireldis Thay, Lady Karise?” He asked. “Have you been lying to my face the entire time you’ve served my wife?”

“If you require me to be Mireldis Thay, then I am she.”

The answer wasn’t what Jaron wanted. It wasn’t what anyone wanted. Renlyn’s motives were clear at one point; serve the kingdom by being a companion to the queen. But now it wasn’t so easy.

Everyone flinched as Renlyn stood. She flashed a rare, glittering smile. “There is no need to escort me to the dungeons, I’m still a member of the nobility and I’m complying with your accusations. Captain Harlowe, Sir Fink, you can accompany me to my chambers.”

“Excuse me?” Jaron leaned forward. “Do you think this is funny, Lady Karise?”

“I do, actually, but I’m not here to cause a ruckus. Do enjoy Blackberry Night at my expense, King Jaron. May the festivities distract and guide you to the answer you seek.”

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

Jaron almost felt guilty about locking Renlyn in her chambers when he saw the finished decorations for Blackberry Night.

Candles hung in perfect little cages, their light bouncing off of gilded plants. A faint sparkling dust tumbled from the ceiling. Every noble was dressed in shades of cream, gold, and pink.

Even Jaron conformed to the strict color code.

He’d given up fighting Mott about needing an escort, his argument fading to nothing after his inability to stand for more than ten minutes without needing a rest. Jaron agreed to let Mott keep an eye on him until Imogen came.

One of the best additions to the hall was a series of ivy covered trellises forming tiny square rooms. Jaron and Mott had managed to squeeze into one before a forbidden couple could take it. The ivy walls didn’t mask conversations, but it did manage to give Jaron a moment of privacy.

A moment to build walls to block prying eyes.

“That couch looks all too appealing,” Jaron noted, crushing his hand into a fist.

His leg didn’t control him.

“Sit down then,” Mott said. “You don’t want to collapse in front of everyone.”

Very true, unfortunately.

The great hall was packed with glittering doublets and wide gowns. Trying to get to the tables stacked with sweets would require military assistance.

Jaron stared at the couch. “Do you think I went too easy on Renlyn?”

Mott crossed his arms over his plain white shirt, obviously thinking of an answer. He shrugged.

“Maybe I was too hard.”

“I think it’s dangerous to assume things, Jaron. But that applies to all people, not just Renlyn.”

“Too many things make sense if she really were Mireldis Thay, but there’s still a few inconsistencies. It’s not quite perfected.”

“So tell me what you know, and we’ll figure it out together.”

“This is the longest you’ve been nice to me, Mott,” Jaron cracked a grin. “Is it because somebody kicked me?”

“Take a seat on the couch.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Jaron collapsed against the cushions, his leg sighing in relief.

The music playing, some Mendenwal styled waltz, still managed to be heard despite the hundreds of conversations all at once. Jaron tapped the beat of the waltz out on his leg.

Regar, Regar, Regar.

When rearranged, it posed a striking resemblance to another infamous name.

Jaron couldn’t keep his discovery to himself. If he was wrong, so be it, but the pattern was too clever to keep hidden.

“Did you know you can rearrange the letters of certain words to form other words?” Jaron asked, repeating the same phrase he’d used when meeting with his inner circle.

“Yes, you mentioned that,” Mott said. “What words have you created this time?”

“None, actually. I’m just thinking about false names. I lived with a stolen name for a good portion of my life, and I know how important it is to find a name that reminds you of who you are without letting other people know.”

“Are you still thinking about Mireldis Thay?”

Jaron nodded, “I think we’ve been focusing on the wrong Thay.”

Had it not been for the sudden hush falling over the crowd, Jaron would’ve thrown out his newest theory. But not with the quiet. Not where people could hear him and pass on the information.

It could wait.

The continued quiet was too loud to be ignored. Jaron forced himself off of the trellis, using Mott as a support to peek out of the trellis walled room.

Mott was there to push Jaron’s chin back up when his mouth fell open.

Amarinda and Imogen were walking down the stairs with their arms linked. Though Amarinda looked pleasant enough in her gold gown, Jaron had eyes only for Imogen.

“Get out of the way! That’s my wife!” Jaron hissed as he wormed through the crowd of nobles.

Imogen rivaled the spring sun. She was warm, inviting, and covered in only the calmest blooms. Pale pink fabric climbed her arms before vanishing into a pair of round sleeves and reemerging in the front panel of her gown. Tiny pearls had been strung into her hair.

He had every intention of freeing every single one.

“Sorry I’m late,” Imogen flashed an apologetic smile. “Plans changed.”

“I’m going to kiss you right now,” Jaron said.

“Oh, at least let me find my husband first,” groaned Amarinda.

“I think he’s nursing a head injury.”

Imogen laughed, “I haven’t seen him go that shade of red in too long.”

The musicians began to play again. Jaron did his best to fulfill his promise to kiss his wife, but Imogen’s dodging abilities were improving with time.

“No, I put paint on my lips and I refuse to be the girl with lip paint all over her chin,” Imogen put her hand over Jaron’s mouth.

His words were muffled. “You’re the queen, it’s different.”

“Lip paint is messy!”

“The messier the better!”

He’d get his kiss. Jaron knew he would.

Taking Imogen by the hand, Jaron led her to the center of the floor, not at all ashamed of holding her hand like a trophy.

“Are you sure you can dance?” Imogen asked.

“I’ll force myself through at least half of one, but I have other plans for this evening,” he said, nodding his head towards the trellis walled spaces.

Imogen snickered, and set her hand on Jaron’s shoulder as their dance began.

Every one of her features was as familiar as the back of his hand, but he never gave up the chance to study her face. The curve of her nose, the fullness of her bottom lip. Her springtime smile.

There could never be anyone else for him.

Only Imogen.

It was her hand that he reached for in the night to remind himself that he was safe. To remind himself that he’d found somebody who’d never abandon him in the name of peace. He reached for her when the pirate brand on his arm ached and when the past he shoved away couldn’t be shoved any longer.

The throbbing ache in his leg was slowly returning.

Her hand, still calloused from her years as a servant, was a perfect fit in his. If he held on just a little tighter, he could finish the dance.

King or not, Jaron refused to keep Imogen from being treated the way she deserved.

And meant ignoring the pain in his leg for the duration of a song.

“Do you want to-,” Imogen started.

Jaron shook his head, “I only want to be here with you. Tell me what you did today. During the afternoon. I didn’t get to see you.”

“I played with the kitten,” her smile brightened the room. “Amarinda tells me that if I keep giving treats for no reason, the kitten will get too fat to walk. She’d have to roll around.”

“I’d have a carriage made, one that can be pulled by a team of tiny rats. That way, Fink gets his rat, and your cat can get around.”

“But wouldn’t the cat eat the rats?”

“Nonsense, if the cat’s too fat to walk, it can’t catch anything.”

Imogen continued tracing her steps through her afternoon, explaining that the gown she wore wasn’t what she’d originally planned, but she’d felt a surge of spontaneity. The seed pearls in her hair were also a last minute add in.

Nobody could ever match Imogen.

Not her strength nor her undeniable ability to make everyone she met feel wanted.

It was still a struggle to accept that she’d chosen him out of every other man in Carthya.

He was silent when the song ended and Imogen helped him limp to the ivy guarded rooms. Words were hard to come by when both pain and burning devotion met to fight for control.

“Sit by me,” Jaron patted the couch cushion beside him, his smile was small, but he preferred it to a forced grimace of a grin. “I promise I won’t get lip paint on your chin.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to return to bed?” Imogen asked.

“I want to be with you.”

“And I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“It’s not so bad when you’re with me.”

Too much hid behind Jaron’s words. The pain in his leg would go away, and it would come back the next time he was kicked there. It came and went.

As did the pain of the past.

But Imogen made it bearable.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

The Black Swan

Chapter 17

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 7119

Chapter: 17/17 (All chapters)

Summary: Years later, Baz is taking the throne with Simon at his side.

Read on AO3

AN: This is the end. Hope you enjoy :)

———————————————

“I’m going to be sick,” Baz said with complete seriousness.

Simon sighed, still fixing Baz’s cloak clasp. It was shaped like a swan taking flight. Simon though it was rather pretty. However, it was also the most finicky thing in the world. But he refused to give up. “You’re not going to be sick.”

“Yes, I am. I’m going to be sick and vomit all over my father and aunt and the council and maybe even the entire court.”

This man is going to be the death of me, Simon thought. Though after almost eight years, he knew that very, very well. And he still loved Baz. He always would, no matter how unreasonably panicked the man was being.

Simon disregarded the annoying clasp for a second. He put both his hands on Baz’s shoulders, fingers pressed into the soft fabric of the bright red cloak. “Baz, listen to me; you’re not going to be sick. You’re going to walk down that aisle in front of the whole court, stand before the council, vow to protect the kingdom, and they’ll put on your fucking crown. Then after you do your speech, we’re going to get completely piss drunk at the ball and happily pass out in that bed right next to us”

Finally, Baz smiled. It was small and somewhat reluctant, but it was there. “Well, I probably shouldn’t get drunk at my own coronation ball, love. Being a responsible king and all.”

“Kings can get drunk. Shows they’re human.” He went back to the annoying clasp. “But they do have to be well dressed, unfortunately. Damn this thing...”

Baz chuckled. “I’ve seen you knock down a man twice your size in less than a minute, and a fancy cloak is going to defeat you?”

“Yeah, yeah shut up. Or I’ll knock you down on your royal arse.”

“Last I checked, you liked my royal arse, Snow.”

Simon glared at him, but it was hard to stay mad at Baz. Even with his stupid smug smirk, he was still gorgeous, incredible, amazing, perfect, and every other adjective he could think of. Baz was still everything to him.

Finally, miraculously, Simon got the clasp right, fitting the swan’s body into its wings with a click. Simon patted it and looked up at Baz with a grin. “There, you’re ready.”

Baz blew a long stream of air out his lips, cheeks puffing out. His eyes looked like a frightened squirrel or deer. “Am I? Am I really?”

Simon frowned, holding Baz’s forearms tight. “You alright, love?”

“Yes, of course.” Simon gave a very particular look. He only used it when Baz was bullshitting him. And Baz knew that. He deflated, shoulders slumping forward and fingers drumming on Simon’s arm. “I don’t know. I’ve been preparing for this for years. But what if it I mess it up? Not just the coronation ceremony, what if I mess up being king? I spent the majority of my life in a bloody lake, and then a good chunk of it under a fucking swan curse. I was alone for six years. How could someone who grew up like that be a king?”

Simon frowned even more. He stepped closer, looking directly into Baz’s eyes. “Baz,” he said firmly, “you are so much more than a cursed boy in a lake. You’re one of the smartest, kindest, strongest people I know. You’re incredible.”

“If you say so,” Baz mumbled. Once again, Simon wished he could slap the self loathing away. He grabbed both of Baz’s cheeks, forcing him to look forward.

“Baz, you are. You graduated Mage’s School in a record six years. And don’t say the teachers went easy on you because you’re a prince, I saw what they gave you and how hard you worked.” Baz shrugged. Simon held him tighter. “On top of that, we both know you could’ve just taken the throne after graduating. Other people would’ve. But instead, you spent a whole year travelling the kingdom, talking to the people and listening to what they wanted.”

“Anyone could’ve done that...”

“But you actually doing something! You’re going to create a place for common folk to bring up issues to the court. You’re going to let them have a voice in stuff. No ruler has done that before. David sure as shit wouldn’t have. But you are. And stuff like that is going to make you a great king, because you’re a really great person.”

Baz's worry started to melt away, all the muscles in his body unwinding. His lip quirked up in amusement. “You know, you can be very eloquent when you want to.”

Simon shrugged, draping his arms across Baz’s shoulders. “I have my moments, I guess. Teaching has certainly helped.”

Baz hugged his waist tight. “I do hope so. Otherwise I’m truly concerned for your students.”

“You were my first student.”

“Yes, exactly/” Simon flicked his pointy ear. Baz leaned forward, touching their foreheads, a stray piece of black hair tickling Simon's skin. “You are a good teacher though, love. Shortening my time at school was definitely partly because of you. Especially for fencing exams.”

Simon grinned. “Okay. I’ll happily take the credit for that.”

Baz laughed, shaking his head against Simon’s. “Thought you would.” He ran his hands up and down Simon’s back, playing with the fancy jacket Simon was reluctantly wearing. “And you’re a great person too, Simon. You reassure me so quickly, but I want you to remember that you’re also good.”

Simon gulped. He knew what Baz meant. Of course he knew what he meant. They had spent the better part of their first years together dealing with what happened the last night in the lake. Simon had spent many hours pressed against Baz, crying and shaking, trying to come down from another terrifying dream where David’s blood coated his hands. The council did officially conclude Simon acted in self defense, keeping him from murder and treason charges. They also found David posthumously guilty of kidnapping, arson, blackmail, murder, illegal spell casting, and theft of multiple items, even Queen Natasha’s wand. He was a horrible man who stepped on those who got in his way. Simon knew he had done what was needed that night, to protect himself and Baz. But it didn’t make Simon feel any less rotten inside sometimes.

He lowered his forehead onto Baz’s shoulder, sinking into the feeling of Baz stroking his back. “I know,” he mumbled. “I-I think I do. But...you may still have to remind me every once in awhile too.”

Baz kissed his temple. “I will, Snow, I always will.”

Simon sighed, pulling back and subtly wiping a few tears from his cheek. “Thanks. I promise I’ll do the same for you.”

Baz smirked, a playful glint in his pretty eyes. “Well, good to know this is truly a relationship of equals in matters beyond just our bed.”

They giggled to themselves, still wrapped in each other’s arms. It was Simon’s favourite place to be. They stayed there for awhile. Until Baz looked down, and his body tensed up, and Simon knew the stupid, amazing git was nervous again.

“Wait, is your jacket right?” Baz asked.

Baz sadly let Simon’s waist go and leaned back. He started messing with the gold hooks of Simon’s brocade jacket. Simon sighed. Two steps forward, one step back with this man, he thought. “Baz, it’s fine.”

“It’s just off...”

“No, it’s fine. You’re still worried and finding something to fuss with to distract yourself.”

Baz, a man who was soon to be crowned king, pouted like a toddler. “No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Stop pretending. I know when you’re lying.”

He pouted even more, narrowed eyes flicking up to Simon’s. “When did you get so insightful?”

Simon shrugged. “Well, talking to my therapist helps with perspective in general, for one. And you’re so panicked right now that I'm calm and reasonable in comparison.”

“Dear gods, that is worrying.” He pulled and tugged at Simon's shirt hook with a frown. “Damn this thing, it’s worse than my cloak.”

Simon sighed. He grabbed Baz’s hands, pulling them from his coat and carefully putting them back at his waist, just where he liked them. And he held Baz’s neck again, fingers pressing into his nape.

“Baz,” he said softly, “what is it? What’s still bugging you? Get it off your chest before the ceremony. You’ll feel better.”

Baz took a long, deep breath, pulling Simon closer. “I know we’ve already talked about this a lot,” he said, “but it's especially prevalent in my mind right now. I can’t help but wonder, what would my mother think of me? Would she like the way I’m going to do things? The way I’m going to run the kingdom?”

Simon suddenly felt like he was transported to when he was a prince. So scared of how good he’d be, how he’d even run a kingdom. He thought he had to be like David in order to be good, and he knew a part of Baz thought the same of Natasha.

“She’d be proud of you,” Simon whispered. “And remember, you don’t have to be exactly like her, Baz. Be like you.”

The long breath Baz let out was a relief for both of them. Baz leaned down and kissed Simon. Simon sighed into it, clenching his fist in Baz’s soft hair and pulling him closer. His mouth still tasted of their breakfast in bed from the morning. It was an intoxicating mix of sweet strawberries, the citrus tang of orange, and a hint of butter and sour cherry scones. All dancing across Baz’s smooth lips and onto Simon’s. It was perfect.

Simon reluctantly pulled away. Unfortunately, they didn’t have much time left. The ceremony was a few minutes away, and Baz needed to not look recently snogged before he went out.

“Alright, uh...your hair is a bit, um...here let me.” Simon reached up and tried to smooth back the parts of Baz’s hair that he had messed up. Even though he personally liked it falling in Baz's face, the court preferred him looking proper and such.

Baz chuckled. He caught Simon’s hand as it lowered, then pressed a soft kiss to his inner wrist. The feeling jolted through Simon’s body and warmed his heart. Not many people got to see Baz like this. Everyone assumed he was a cold but smart and regal type, while Simon knew deep down he was like this; so unbelievably kind and caring.

“You know,” Baz said as he tried to flatten Simon’s now slightly rumpled jacket, “the council has been talking about you.”

Simon groaned, head tilting back. “Oh for fuck’s sake. They’re not still bugging you about an heir, are they? I thought you shut them down pretty firmly. The people like us too much anyway, they'd never accept putting you in an arranged marriage.”

“Agreed,” Baz sighed, playing with Simon's hair in that slow, maddening, amazing way. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. The council has finally realised there’s no point trying to split us up, what with mine and the people’s inevitable protests.”

“Well, that’s good.” Simon wasn’t really paying attention. He knew all of this already. They had discussed a thousand times in a thousand ways. The council didn't like a future ruler who couldn't guarantee an heir. Apparently the same thing had happened with David, and Simon's adoption had been the solution instead of arranged marriage. In their case now, enough smooth talking from Baz, political maneuvering from Malcolm, and unasked for thinly veiled threats from Fiona had made the council come to terms with Baz's refusal to give up Simon. None of this was news.

“Certainly," Baz said. "But it means they’ve moved their focused to something else. Now, they’re chattering about ‘showing stability in the throne and ‘appealing to the people’s wants.’”

Simon froze, fingers halfway through spinning one of Baz’s hand carved ebony buttons. His ribcage hurt from how hard his heart was thumping. He wanted it to be about what he thought it was, but he knew it was bad to assume.

“I...see...” Simon said with a slight nervous cough. “Sounds like they’re still pushy.”

“Yes, agreed. But I sort of like the direction they’re going in for once.”

“And...what direction would that be?”

Baz placed his hand over Simon’s, fire callused fingers pressing into his skin. Simon tried to look down, but Baz tilted his chin up with one finger. Their eyes met, and Simon swore all his words and coherent thought were lost to that deep sea grey. It was too easy to just melt into them sometimes.

“That direction,” Baz whispered, “would be, maybe one day, making our already well known relationship legally official.”

There it was. Simon’s face bloomed into a brighter red than the strawberries they ate earlier. Baz grinned with all his pearly white teeth. Simon hated how smug he looked, but at the same time he wanted to kiss him. It was a confusing hurricane of emotion.

“Oh,” he squeaked. “I-I see.”

“Feeling alright there, Snow?” Baz teased.

Simon rolled his eyes. “Shut up, arsehole. You just...caught me a bit off guard. Have the council really been talking about that, for us?”

“M-hm. They think it would be very beneficial for the crown. Nobility and the people alike know we’re together. All of them would probably very much like us making it official. There wouldn’t be much of a difference for us, anyway. We’ve already been living together for three years.”

“Yeah, that’s true, I guess.” He ran his fingers against Baz’s annoyingly firm chest. “What would I be called? A queen? I don’t want to be a queen.”

“No, Snow, of course you wouldn’t be a queen,” Baz giggled. “You would be officially called prince consort.” Simon stuck his tongue out, and Baz frowned in confusion. “What on earth is that face for?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed over dramatically. “‘Consort’...it sounds weird. Like, I’m ‘consorting’ with you? Not sure I like that. Sounds almost kind of dirty.”

Baz gaped at him. “My father was my mother's prince consort!”

“Well, that’s not much of an endorsement.” Baz glared. Though he and his father didn’t have a perfect relationship, annoying expectations being tangled up with abandonment issues and what not, Baz still had some sense of loyalty to him. And he definitely had loyalty to his mum.

Simon let out the snorty laugh he had been stifling, doubling over with giggles. “You’re so easy to tease, love.” Baz glared even harder. So Simon kissed the corner of his frown, and Baz melted.

“How about,” he started, “you tell me what being a prince consort would mean. Davy never explained stuff like that to me. And I don’t really want to be a real prince again. Fuck, would I have to give up teaching?”

Baz shook his head, dislodging some precariously placed strands of hair. “No, you can still teach. Honestly, the position is mostly ceremonial, unless you want to help with policy. You would have to attend galas, come to official dinners, maybe go with me on some diplomatic missions as long as they don’t interfere with your classes.”

Simon’s brow furrowed. “I do all of that stuff already.”

“Exactly. Like I said, it wouldn’t be much different from how we already are. Just with a title, a piece of paper, and a big party.”

“Hm, I like the sound of a party. Parties mean lots of food.”

“Of course you’d like that,” Baz sighed. “Do you...like the other parts of it? I promise, you won’t have to be a real prince, I would never put that burden on you again. And it probably won’t happen right away. Maybe a year or two into my reign, once I’m settled in as king and the People’s Forum is fully established. I don’t know. It would happen eventually. That is, if you want it to...”

Simon knew the answer. It had been his answer for a very, very long time. Just as he as about to open his mouth though, there was a loud knock on the door. Both boys jolted.

“Who is it?” Baz asked.

“It’s me, Basil,” Lord Grimm replied from the other side of the door. “May I come in?”

Baz looked to Simon, and Simon nodded. “Yes, you may.”

The door creaked open, and Malcolm stepped through. He was dressed in his best suit, with fancy gold embroidery and fabric that faded from brown to black, and colours of his crest. Simon thought they were dreadfully boring but he wouldn’t say that out loud. Miraculously, he and Malcolm were still on good terms, and he wanted them to stay that way.

“Good day, Basil,” he said. “You look very handsome."

Baz smiled softly. "Thank you, Father."

"Are you ready? The council wanted me to fetch you.”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Baz chuckled. He took Simon’s other hand for a moment. “You should get down to the hall, love. Go get your seat. I’ll be down there soon.”

“Yeah, okay, see you.” He dropped Baz’s hand and went towards the door. “Good to see you, Lord Grimm.

He bowed his head slightly, a polite smile on his mouth. “It’s a pleasure to see you as well, Sir Snow.”

“Simon, wait,” Baz said. He strode over to Simon, red cape flapping behind him gloriously. He pushed Simon slightly behind the door, out of Malcolm’s view, then kissed him hard. It made Simon’s head spin and his legs wobble. Before he knew it, Baz was moving away from him. The kiss was like a thunderstorm; strong, dizzying, and brief. Simon blinked rapidly, trying to regain some semblance of steadiness. Baz grinned that mischievous, self satisfied grin Simon secretly adored.

“I’ll see you later, love,” he whispered.

“See you, love,” Simon replied, brain still reeling a bit.

He pecked Simon one last time, then carefully shut door of their room. Simon almost skipped down the stone hallway.

———————————————

“There you are,” Agatha said as Simon sat next to her at the front of the hall. “Where have you been?”

“Helping Baz with his cloak,” Simon replied.

Penelope leaned forward past Agatha, frowning very deeply. “Is that an innuendo for something? Because we don’t want to know.”

Philippa leaned out past her, shaking her head. “Yeah, we definitely don’t.”

Simon narrowed his eyes at them. “It’s not, you arseholes. His cloak has that stupid swan clasp. It’s fucking impossible, even with my help.”

“If you say so, Si.” He glared harder at Penelope, his lovely amazing friend, who could still driving him absolutely crazy sometimes. That seemed to be true of all his friendships.

“How is Prince Basilton feeling, anyway?” Philippa asked.

“He’s alright,” Simon sighed. “A bit freaked out, naturally, but alright. I assured him he was going to be a good King and he calmed down pretty quickly.

Penelope looked very concerned from over Agatha’s shoulder. “A bit late for him to be having doubts, isn’t it?”

“Pen, he’s been having doubts for seven and a half years. And I guarantee he’ll still have doubts seven and a half years from now. But he’s going to be a good king, I know it.”

“I bloody well hope he is,” she mumbled.

“I second that,” Philippa piped in. “I’d like to have a nice King for the west, please.”

Simon smiled at her, reaching around the other two to pat her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Pippa, you will. I can vouch for that.”

“M-hm. And you’re not just saying that because you’re stupidly in love with him?” Agatha asked playfully.

Simon shrugged with a shy smile, cheeks burning like the sun. “Well, that may be a small factor.” He rubbed the back of his neck, blush rapidly spreading. “He, uh, sort of actually...proposed to me today...”

All three of their jaws fell to the floor. Agatha, being the closest, threw her arms around Simon’s shoulder in a side hug and jumped up and down. A few of the nobles shushed her, and she glared at them. Agatha now lived in the far south permanently. And her time away from court had turned her low level dislike for it into a complete disregard for it’s norms.

“Simon!” she squealed. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Thanks, Aggie,” he chuckled.

Penelope leaned closer, grinning ear to ear. “That’s amazing, Si. Congratulations.”

“And you said yes, right?” Philippa asked giddily. “Please tell me you said yes. I want to help plan a royal wedding.”

“Well, I was about to answer, but then Lord Grimm walked in and I didn’t get a chance.”

Agatha pouted, looking quite cross. “Boo Lord Grimm! May the gods condemn him.”

“That’s a bit harsh, Aggie.”

“He deserves it for ruining a romantic moment!”

Philippa chuckled. “You know, for someone who bemoaned all the gross couples every night back at our Mage's School room, you’re very invested in this.”

Agatha unashamedly stuck her tongue out at her former roommate. “Those couples were annoying and not my friends.”

“Well, that makes sense, I suppose."

Agatha grinned and turned back to Simon. “Oh it’s going to be great, Si! You’ll need the decorations, fancy food, oh, and the outfits will have to be exemplary, of course. And-”

Agatha was cut off by the brassy, deafening noise of the trumpets. Everyone, including the four friends, stood up to attention. The lords and ladies of the council filed in from the side, heads held high, robes dragging on the floor. Malcolm led them up the dais. Fiona stood in the middle. She was technically the last heir, so it fell to her to pass on the throne. They all faced the crowd in a perfectly spaced out line, like a bunch of snobby statues.

The large double doors creaked open behind them, and everyone stood and turned their heads. Simon had to stop himself from running down the aisle. Baz walked down it slowly, shoulders back, chin up, every bit the strong person Simon knew he was. He was illuminated in the sunlight pouring in through stained glass, decorating him like a regal rainbow. Simon was absolutely transfixed by him, even more so than usual. Their eyes met as Baz went past. Still with a stern mouth, he winked at Simon. Not a very kingly thing, but certainly a very Baz thing.

Baz ascended the dais. He came face to face with his aunt and the council with no fear.

“Please announce your name and purpose for coming before this court,” Fiona said. Simon almost rolled his eyes. Like she and everyone else didn’t here know what was going on. It was all so annoyingly formal.

“My name is Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch,” Baz replied. “I am here to assume the throne of the Kingdom of Watford.”

The council all nodded. Lord Grimm at the end picked up a very large book and passed it down the line like a group of stone workers hauling bricks. Fiona held in front of Baz with both hands. “Then make the king’s oath with your right hand upon the Laws of Watford.”

Baz delicately placed his right hand on the book. “I, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, son of Natasha Ophelia Grimm-Pitch, promise to be the guardian of Watford. I shall be the defense between this kingdom and anything that wishes it harm. I shall make it flourish and thrive. I shall serve its people until my very last breath. All these vows I make with a clear heart and mind. I ask for the court to accept my service.”

Fiona looked out towards the court. “Does the court accept his service?”

“We do,” the crowd replied. Simon knew they had to say that, but he also knew many of the nobles truly wanted Baz to be king. The people loved Baz, both for his grand life story and for his common folk focused policies. The nobility started with fears but had come around to him more and more over time. Simon could understand. He knew very well how hard it was to not love Baz.

“Very well,” Fiona said with a twinge of satisfaction, even though she was supposed to be serious. “Please kneel and accept the crown.”

Baz went on one knee, head bowed forward. Lord Stainton picked up the crown from behind him. It had been specifically crafted for Baz. Made from black metal, it glinted perfectly in the multi coloured light. The eight small points were decorated with dark purple gems that were placed to look like wings. Tiny little diamonds were artfully lined all the way around. Simon loved the intricacies of the smith work himself. Every twist, every curl, every tiny detail in the lattice was perfect. And it looked even better as Fiona placed it on Baz’s head.

Slowly, carefully, Baz went back to his feet. He turned to the crowd. Simon knew Baz was incredible long before he was ever crowned a king. But right now, with his blood red cape, dark crown, and determined expression, he looked so strong. And Simon was very, very proud.

“Presenting,” a guard yelled, “King Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch the Third, ruler and lord protector of Watford. All hail the king!”

“All hail the king!” The court parroted back. “All hail the king! All hail the king!”

One of the court mages at the front pulled her wand from her robe. She waved it across the sky, and the large banners unfurled. Simon grinned even harder, though it was a bit smug to do so. He had designed them after all. Six months ago, Baz had asked him to make him a new crest for his reign, something that represented his legacy but also himself on his own. Simon spent days making sketches, discussing it with Baz and the council. Eventually, after some convincing by Simon, they settled on a design, now hanging over everyone;

A dark red banner covered in flames, with a field at the bottom, and a black swan rising above into the sky, flying to freedom.

The crowd burst into loud claps. Everyone looked incredibly pleased. Agatha, Philippa, and Penny, clapped very hard. Baz's younger siblings, who had all come to adore their long lost brother, were literally jumping up and down. Simon himself whooped and hollered without shame, earning glares from the older nobility. Fuck them though. The man Simon loved was just crowned king. He was allowed to be overly excited. Fiona and Malcolm were both grinning ear to ear, clapping hard. It was an usually unabashed display of emotion for them, which they should honestly do more often. Baz still looked strong and noble and all that shit as he surveyed the crowd. Finally, his eyes met Simon’s and they stayed.

Told you so, Simon mouthed.

The corners of Baz’s mouth turned up slightly. And it meant everything.

———————————————

Simon wasn’t a huge fan of crowds. Sometimes even less than Baz, who at least had the excuse of being raised in isolation for years. Simon lived around people growing up, they were just giant arseholes. The court weren’t all arseholes, really. There was just...a lot of them.

Everyone was packed into the ballroom, drinking and dancing, waiting for the brand new king to come back from his procession and speech at the town square. He had asked Simon if he wanted to come yesterday, but Simon respectfully declined. He knew that if he was there, everyone would focus on them as a storybook couple; The great hero and the love he saved. Baz needed them to see him as their new king right now, not just the formerly cursed swan man. So Baz was there, and Simon was here. Though right now, he wished more than usual that they were together.

It didn’t help that all three of Simon’s close friends were spread out. Agatha was chatting with her old friend, Minty, somewhere. Penelope and Micah were discussing new spells for the next standard grimoire with their fellow court mages. Philippa had probably slinked off to the library to read fairy tales instead of having to attend this ball. Right now, Simon wished to join her.

“Sir Snow! How are you?” Lord Hamish asked as he approached. He was a jovial man, if not a bit pushy.

Simon quickly chewed his tiny cheese quiche and swallowed. “Hello, Lord Hamish. I’m good. How are you?”

“Very well, very well. Enjoyed the ceremony?”

“Um, yeah. Did you?”

“Oh yes. I’m glad to see King Tyrannus on the throne, especially after all the hardship he went through, that terrible curse and all. I’m guessing you agree.”

Simon chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, definitely. Happy to see B- King Tyrannus where he belongs.”

“Yes, very good, very good.” He turned more towards Simon. “Say, you’re still the King’s...companion, right?”

Simon stifled a sigh. “Companion”, that was a new one. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a good word for a long term romantic relationship between people who weren’t married or betrothed. Simon was used to it. “Companion” was at least better than “lover”, “sweetheart”, or “bedfellow”.

“Yes, I am.” Simon said as calmly as he could. “At least I still was the last time I checked.”

Lord Hamish laughed loudly. “Wonderful, very happy for you two. Your story is absolutely incredible, both of you are so strong. Say,” he leaned closer, “would you happen to know the King’s policy on school funding? There’s a school house near my estate that’s in terrible disrepair. I wonder if he could direct any funds towards it.”

Simon kept his groan on the inside. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Lord Hamish. I don’t know anything about kingdom funds. I’m not a prince anymore, or even a lord. I’m just the sword teacher at the Mage’s School.”

“Well, don’t sell yourself short, Sir Snow, you’re a bit more than that. You’re a great hero, and everyone knows you’re closer to the King than anyone. You would know if he has mentioned anything.”

“Well, he doesn’t always tell me everything.” Simon looked down at his empty plate and cup. “Excuse me, I-I’m quite...hungry.”

Simon scurried off towards the food table. Maybe he should stay there for the rest of the night. Just hide behind the stacks of pastries and fancy meats. That would be his heaven.

“Sir Snow! There you are!” Simon froze in the middle of stacking his plate with mini scones. He lifted his eyes, and unfortunately saw Lady Morgan, mother of his former classmate, Rhys. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Sir Snow.”

“Pleasure to see you too, Lady Morgan,” he said.

“How are you, love? It’s been ages since I saw you.”

“I’m well. How are you?”

“I’m also well. How is our dear King? Has he considered the new farming initiative in the east? We’ve been working on it for quite awhile.”

Simon started pouring a tall glass of bubbling wine. He still hated northern spirits, but he’d developed somewhat of a taste for the sweeter alcohols, especially right now. “I don’t know, Lady Morgan,” he grumbled. “You’ll have to ask the King himself at the next council meeting.”

“Oh dear, that’s a shame. After such a grand journey, I’m very sorry that you two have separated.”

Simon sputtered into his wine, bubbly liquid definitely going down the wrong way. He thumped his chest and attempted to talk through the pain. “What?! No! No, we’re not...separated. I just don’t remember everything about policy, I’m not any good at it. There’s a damn good reason I gave up the crown.”

Lady Morgan seemed a bit taken aback, blinking rapidly and linking her hands together over her stomach. “Oh...I see. Well, if you get the chance, it would be wonderful if you mentioned the initiative to the King.”

“Um, I don’t really feel comfortable doing-”

“Farewell, Sir Snow!” she called as she walked off. Simon groaned and downed the rest of his wine. He should be used to this by now. People were already trying to get him to use his influence back when Baz was still just a prince. Now it was only going to get worse. Baz was worth it though. Also thank the gods for wine.

“Good evening, Sir Snow,” some random lord said as he approached him. “How are you?”

“Um, I’m good, I-”

“Sir Snow!” Another random nobility came up to him with a plastered on grin. “Enjoying the festivities?”

“Uh, yeah-”

“Sir Snow? Is that you? I was hoping to discuss something with you.” A third fancily dressed person came up towards him.

They all started chatting away at him. Simon tried to answer them, but honestly he could barely hear what they were saying. Funding this, taxes that. It was all a lot of political jargon he hardly understood as a prince, let alone years later. He and Baz didn’t even discuss this stuff. Baz just ranted while Simon told him  it was all alright. He tried to say as much, but the nobles were too loud and pushy. Maybe he could get out through a gap and get the fuck away. He just needed an escape.

“Excuse me,” a very familiar, very comforting voice said, “may I intrude?”

All the nobility turned around, then immediately bowed deeply. Simon didn’t.  Simon just sighed with relief. Baz was dressed in his black and silver feather suit, brand new crown, and beloved necklace, both his half circles charms on full display. He must’ve changed after his speech. He looked incredible.

“Y-Your Majesty,” a lord said. “Apologies, we, uh, didn’t hear you come in.”

“You wouldn’t have. I didn’t want a fanfare for a simple entrance. Please, rise, good lords and ladies.”

They all cautiously stood straight, still looking at the floor. “Congratulations on your coronation, your majesty,” a lady said quietly

Baz nodded at her. “Thank you. Now, do excuse me, but I need to borrow Sir Snow.” He offered his hand, fire rough palm up, smiling at Simon. “Would you like to dance?”

Simon put down his plate and glass, and grasped Baz’s hand firmly. “Always.”

“Wonderful. Let’s go.”

Baz pulled him from the swarm of nobility and led him through the larger crowd, their joint hands held high. Everyone parted to make a path, bowing as they want past. It made Simon a bit uncomfortable. He didn't like being bowed to, and neither did Baz, honestly. But it seemed like a minor struggle compared to those of others, or even just their own pasts.

“How are you, love?” Baz asked

“Good. How was the town speech?”

“It went very well. I missed you, though.”

Simon squeezed his hand lightly. “I missed you too.”

They reached the dancefloor, which was fully cleared for just the two of them. The music was melodious, soft, perfect for a nice dance. Baz pulled Simon against him, one arm around his waist and the other outstretched. Simon held his shoulder. It was a familiar position from years of galas and practice.

“Shall we give them a show?” Baz asked with his lovely playful lilt.

Simon straightened, nose pointed high, smile mockingly smug. “Let’s.”

The two started swanning across the dance floor. Simon had learned over the years that he really only could dance with Baz. They were so in sync it usually worked. Simon still stepped on his toes sometimes, but Baz didn’t mind, mostly. Luckily, right now, they seemed to be having a good night. Every step was absolute perfection. It felt like they were floating on the clouds together. It was magical in the best way.

“So,” Simon said, “how are you feeling now? Kingly?”

“Honestly?” Baz sighed. “Not much different. Except for the heavier metal on my head. It’s...uncomfortable.”

Simon snorted. “Yeah, I remember hating my circlet. Definitely don’t miss wearing something that.”

Baz shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll get used to it, I suppose. I am glad though. I’m looking forward to making a real difference in Watford. I’m still nervous, but a little less so. I think I can do this.”

Simon slowed them down a bit, so Baz could see the truth and affection in his eyes. “You’re going to do incredible.”

“Thank you, love.” He sighed happily. ‘Hopefully I’ll be as good a king as you are a sword teacher. It will be quite a standard to live up to” Simon blushed deeply, and Baz chuckled. “Say, what was that swarm about? Did you put all the finger food on your plate again?”

Simon glared at his smug face. “No, I told you, that was a one time birthday thing. And actually, they were all asking about policies. What you thought, what I should tell you, that annoying shite. They still think I know anything about it.”

Baz sighed, holding Simon tighter. “Sorry about that, darling. Damn nobles are so pushy.”

“Yeah, I know. I thought court bullshit would get better when I wasn’t a prince, but it’s actually gotten worse. They think I’m like, their secret message delivery system to you.”

“M-hm. They’re under the incredibly false impression that I listen to you.” Simon purposely stepped on his toes. Baz tried to placate him with a sneaky peck to his cheek. Unfortunately, it worked. It always did. “I’ll tell the council to back off of you at the next meeting. Then the word will spread through the court, hopefully. If not, I’ll yell at them.”

“You shouldn’t do that. You need the court to like you and stuff. I’ll be fine.”

Baz stopped for moment, and Simon was worried he said something wrong. But he pulled Simon close, so close Simon could smell the remnants of his cedar and bergamot cologne. Then he put an arm around him strangely, and suddenly spun Simon outwards. Simon’s whole world turned into a blur of colours and sparkling gold for a moment. When he stopped, his eyes caught Agatha and Micah giving him a thumbs up while Penny reluctantly smiled. He was able to smile back before being spun back into Baz’s embrace. Baz’s face was warm, kind, everything Simon knew he was no matter how much sarcasm he used.

“You would be worth it,” he whispered in his ear, leading him across the dance floor again. “You would be worth the ire of a hundred courts.”

Simon’s blush creeped down his neck. He may even have gaped slightly. For most of his childhood, Simon assumed he would be alone forever. That he was so completely unlovable that even his own parents didn’t want him. Then David made whisked him away to a new life with new people and new opportunities. Penny loved him, and he loved her. However, when he thought he was in love with Agatha, he was so very, very wrong. After her, Simon knew he had figured out platonic love, but was sure he didn't know what being in love was, and he probably never would.

But here was Baz, dancing right in front of him, looking like a god, declaring he would scorn all the nobles in the world just to protect Simon’s feelings. They weren’t perfect, no one was. But they were strong, and stable, and happy with each other. Baz was everything Simon wanted in his life and so much more. He knew what being in love was now. It was making Baz laugh at the dumbest things, Baz bringing him scones after a long class, whispering to each other late at night, holding hands together in the courtyard, just as tightly as the first time they went to the solstice festival. Because they enjoyed holding on and not letting go.

Baz was all the definition of in love Simon needed. And he suddenly remembered that he never answered.

“Yes,” he blurted out.

Baz slowed their dancing a bit, looking at Simon very confused. “What? Yes to what?”

Simon slowed them even more. So Baz would focus on what he said. “My answer is yes, Baz. I’ll marry you.”

Baz’s lips fell open, eyes bigger than beautiful deep sea full moons. “Really?”

He rolled his eyes like they were two carriage wheels on a road. “Duh. I’ve wanted to marry you since we were nineteen, idiot. Of course I would say yes.”

“And, you wouldn’t mind waiting if we had to?”

Simon shook his head. They weren’t even moving that much anymore, let alone dancing. “No. It could happen next year or next week or tomorrow, and I’ll still want to marry you. I promise.”

Unknown to everyone else, Baz tended to call Simon “the sun” a lot. Or his sun, which Simon liked even more. His beautiful sun, which his universe spun around. But right now, Baz’s smile was truly the sun, shining like high noon on a summer’s day. He looked so unbelievably happy, and Simon’s heart sang with joy.

With absolutely zero warning, Baz pulled Simon around and literally swept him off his feet. Simon kept a death grip on Baz's biceps. His still shining smile was surrounded by a halo of raven hair, a few strands artfully falling out of place. The black crown was slightly crooked on his forehead.

“Prince or orphan,” he whispered.

One incredible thing that Simon has discovered about being in love was the way simple things gained different meanings with your “companion.” A patch of field was a romantic haven. A kind of food made memories burst in your mind like the flavour coated your tongue. And a few meaningless words could mean so, so much more than they seemed. The true sentiment became a secret between just the pair of you. Three simple words that were nothing to others, but everything to you.

Simon deftly plucked Baz's crown from his head. Everyone gasped. Stealing a king’s crown was a capital offence. But Simon knew he was safe. He placed it lopsidedly on his own head while beaming up at Baz.

"King or swan," he replied.

I love you, they meant, no matter what you are.

Simon grabbed Baz by his collar and pulled him down into a kiss. It was just a press of lips really, yet it felt so intense. Baz cupped his cheek, so delicate in comparison to the forceful way Simon was kissing him. The crowd clapped and cheered as they probably thought they had to, but Simon couldn’t hear them over the roaring heartbeat in his ears. He was lost to their world, too wrapped up in his own.

Simon looked forward to even more adventures his life with Baz would bring.

———————————————

AN: And that's all folks. Black Swan is done, and it's been fucking insane and awesome. I started writing this back in September. It was a huge undertaking then and still is now. There were many, many times I wasn't sure I would finish it. This is the biggest fic I've attempted, so it was a trial but also a triumph. I've proven to myself that I can write something this long. So I'm very proud I wrote this. And I'm extremely happy other people liked it too. All your kudos, comments, likes, and reblogs mean the world to me and kept me going. A big, giant thank you to every one of you readers. You're the greatest. I can't express that enough. And final thanks to @carryonmylovelies for her endless support and to @bookerella for her incredible art.

My last exam is in a couple days, and requests will be open again soon. So if you liked this and want to request fics from me, feel free to then. Thanks again for reading Black Swan. Hope that was a good end. See you next time :)

[goldenworldsabound]

Wendy, Viren, Soren and Claudia are on vacation (intro here). Everything seems to be going well, until a difficult subject comes up. (Basically, focusing on more on the family aspect and stuff ;w; I love Soren and Claudia and want them to be happy!!!)

After a long but fun day down at the lake, everyone was settled around the fire. The kids were wrapped in blankets, sleepy but happy.

Wendy delivered a hot and slightly boozy cider to Viren, who gave her a kiss on the cheek with a sweet little “thank you dear”. She grabbed a hot chocolate for each of the kids. Claudia thanked her politely, smiling wide at the chocolatey treat. Soren sleepily took the drink from Wendy.

“Thanks, mom.” He said smiling up at her. Wendy's eyes widened before her expression softened. Viren was beaming. But Claudia had a different reaction.

“Did you just- she's not our Mom, Soren!” Claudia said, looking distressed.

Soren flushed at being called out. “Why not? She acts like a mom, and we don't have a mom, so-”

“Kids-” Viren warned, but was ignored.

“We DO have a mom!” Claudia yelled back, beginning to tear up.

“She LEFT us Claudia!!! She's not our mom anymore!!!” Soren replied back, annoyed, clearly not understanding why his sister was upset at all.

“You don't get it!” Claudia stood up, dropping the hot chocolate. She ran off, tears streaming down her face, towards the lake.

“Claudia, wait-” Viren stood up to go after her, but Wendy was faster.

“I'll go. I doubt she wants to talk to you about this.” Wendy said bluntly. Viren was not the most emotionally sensitive. She ran after Claudia.

Viren sighed, putting his head in his hands for a moment, before turning his attention to Soren. “Guess you and I should have a talk then.”

Soren shrugged.

-----------

It was easy to follow Claudia - she hadn't strayed from the wooded path at all, and Wendy stayed close enough to hear the young girl's sobs. She felt bad for Claudia - clearly neither Soren nor Viren understood what she was feeling.

When Wendy exited the forest to the lakeshore, she saw Claudia scrambling up a big rock. Wendy stayed back in the tree line, giving the girl a minute to situate herself, and a moment alone. Claudia pulled her knees up to her chest and sobbed. It was heart wrenching to watch. After a few moments, Claudia fell silent, gazing out at the lake.

Wendy made her way down to Claudia's rock, careful to make a lot of noise so Claudia would know she was coming. Claudia stoically ignored her, gazing ahead as if she hadn't heard.

“Can I join you?” Wendy asked quietly, looking up at the 13 year old. After a moment's thought, Claudia nodded. Wendy climbed up the rock, sitting next to but not touching Claudia, giving her space.

Claudia looked at her suspiciously, but Wendy said nothing, simply smiling out at the lake and the moon reflected on its surface. Claudia finally relaxed as well, though she still occasionally glanced at Wendy.

“I wanted you to know that it's okay, if you don't want to think of me as your mother.” Wendy said quietly, the sincerity of her statement clear in her voice.

Claudia shook her head. “It's not that…” She fell silent, thinking. Wendy remained quiet, not wanting to push her. “I feel like… if you're my mom, now-” her voice cracked and the tears began again, but she continued. “Does that mean...I didn't love her?”

“Claudia…”

“If I love you, does that mean I'm forgetting her?!” Claudia began to sob again, burying her face in her hands.  Wendy said nothing, waiting for her to get it all out. When her sobs had quieted, Wendy spoke.

“I had no idea you were going through this. I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner. Claudia...you are capable of so much love.” She held her hand out to Claudia, who took it, gripping it tightly. “One love does not replace another. Loving me doesn't mean you never loved her. You can love both of us, just like you can love your father without losing your love for your mother.”

Without warning, Claudia flung her arms around Wendy, burying her face against her. Wendy wrapped her arms around the young girl, squeezing her gently. They stayed like that for some time, before Claudia finally pulled back, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes.

“I do love you…” She mumbled, taking Wendy's hand again. “But what if you leave? Like she did?”

“I don't have any intention of leaving. I love you, and I love Soren, and I love your father. I love all of you very much. More than anything. I won't leave.” She squeezed Claudia's hand gently.

“...promise?”

“I promise.”

They hugged again.

“Ready to go back? I'm sure your father and brother are worried.” Wendy said, still smiling softly.

“Yeah...I think so...mom.” Claudia blushed, smiling happily. Wendy smiled as well, feeling tears well up in her own eyes.

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

Viren's conversation with Soren hadn't gone well at all. Soren had totally failed to understand why his sister was upset, and Viren had utterly failed at explaining it. He'd had no idea Claudia felt that way. He felt...hurt that she hadn't come to him, but even more so, ashamed that he hadn't noticed.

Soren was now laying on his stomach, elbows on the ground with his hands propping up his face, staring at the fire. Similarly, Viren sat with his head in his hands, elbows propped up on his legs, gazing at the fire as well. They made quite a pair, looking exactly like father and son at that moment.

Viren blinked himself back to focus at the sound of approaching footsteps. His expression changed to relief as Wendy and Claudia emerged from the woods, holding hands and smiling. Claudia rubbed at her eyes, looking sleepy, while Wendy simply looked peaceful and content.

Viren stood up, and walked over to give his daughter a hug. “I'm glad you're back. Are you okay?” He asked, looking her over.

She nodded. “Yeah… I'm okay now.”

Soren had also wandered up. Despite not really understanding what his sister was sad about, he still cared about her a great deal. He hugged her as well. Almost in unison, the two of them yawned.

“I think it's time for bed.” Wendy commented, chuckling. “Maybe even for you.” She said, pointedly raising a brow at Viren, who froze mid yawn at the call out, quickly closing his mouth as if to deny it.

The kids were both happy enough to go along with that, or too tired to really disagree, and after Viren and Wendy had tucked them in he followed her back outside to sit by the fire again

Wendy gazed quietly and thoughtfully into the flames. Viren waited for her to speak, but his impatience got the better of him.

“What happened?” He asked, putting his arm around Wendy, pulling her close.

“She's… pretty messed up about what happened with her mother, Viren.” Wendy replied, sighing, anticipating this conversation not being a lot of fun. “I think that she'll be okay but she's still coming to terms with it, you know.”

“But if her mother was still here, you wouldn't be. And besides, her mother-”

“I understand that Viren. Look, I never met your ex-wife. I don't really know what happened in that relationship. And, if I'm honest, I'd rather not know.” She relaxed her hands, which had curled into fists without her noticing. “But none of this matters to a child, who was forced to make a choice that adults would find difficult.”

Viren remained quiet, mouth twitching as he contemplated a number of responses. He settled for sighing, leaning his head against hers.

“I guess I never noticed because Soren made his decision so easily.” He finally said, unable to completely stop himself from justifying things to her.

“Yes. And so Soren never noticed either. And so she had no one to turn to.” She pulled away for a moment, looking at Viren seriously. “Viren… don't try to talk to her about this unless she comes to you with it.”

“But, Wendy…”

“It's hard for you to understand. And that's no real fault of yours. I just don't think that's what she needs, right now. She's grieving the relationship, and you're not. So just give her space to do that, okay?”

Viren smiled, nodding. “Alright, you've convinced me.” She scooted closer to him again, and he wrapped his arm over her shoulder. “If you're going to keep being so wise, I'm starting to think maybe I should have been the assistant all along.”

The joke was unusual for him, a joke at his own expense. Wendy snuggled into him, chuckling. “Perhaps in matters of the heart.” She teased. “When you get serious, I can't hold a candle to your dark magic though. And,” she continued, gazing up at his face in the warm light of the fire, “which one of us has saved the kingdom on multiple occasions with our clever and innovative ideas?”

Viren flushed at the praise, laughing a little.

“I couldn't do it without you.” He kissed her softly.

It was only a small amount of time before they fell asleep together around the fire, but it was longer before they awoke and retired to bed in the cabin.

[mininky]

Heavy Lies the Crown-10

Summary: (Y/N) has the fate of her people on her shoulders and according to a seer, the only way to save her kingdom from the bloodthirsty wolves is by giving herself to the god of the hunt.

Pairing: werewolf!Namjoon x reader

Warnings: angst. So much angst. Meantions of death, minor mentions of suicide

word count: 4.5K

Prologue Chapter one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven

   Being a royal had been stifling, confining, painfully restrictive with its rigid rules. You hated how it had created a forced path for you, one that you knew straying from could bring possible public execution. Being a Luna was so totally different in almost every aspect. It had been liberating, new, a role that while supportive commanded respect. The village saw you as a person though, not some unspeakable figure who lived far above them. Communication within the community existed harmonically with the werewolves, it wasn't simply a self-serving monarchy. But there were some things that made you feel like a royal all over again. Being one of the few privileged people to attend this summit with all the other packs for instance. Or the way the others at said summit regarded you. Some with open disdain. Others with passive-aggressive taunting. Then some with curiosity and a select few with kindness.    The summit would last one week. It had just barely begun, and already you wanted it to end. You suppose that a good Luna would take every opportunity to learn and be diplomatic. You had been a rather shit royal though, at least in the realm of diplomacy. Blunt, brash, 'unfeminine' yeah you made a shit princess. Strong, stubborn, fiercely loyal. You made a damn good Luna in that aspect. But you weren't about to try to be nice to a bunch of jerks. And if these other wolves hated you simply because you were a human or witch or a woman then they could transform into a wolf and sniff you ass like the lowly dogs they behaved as.    You were also completely correct about your earlier prediction that reading minds would suck. It really really really sucked. One hour. You had been here just one hour, and already you were reaching anger to a bloodlust level. If these men were so sure that you were just a weak little thing then you would snap their necks to show them the error of their thinking. Weak. Pathetic. A slut. Human. Witch bitch (you actually thought that one was kind of funny.) You were getting really tired of hearing their thoughts. You had been trying hard to block everything out, but the problem is that the angrier you were the less you were able to control your powers. Maybe you should just light the wood table on fire to scare them all and to call today to an early end.    One of the decent ones, Jackson, was speaking at the moment. Their village was dealing with a massive drought. The animals were leaving and now not only could they not rely on the crops but soon they wouldn't even be able to hunt. Fishing for trout upstream already left them unstable when their stream dried out. Namjoon was listening intently, one of the few leaders who was. You could tell that he was terrified, his village would have to move soon if things didn't change. Their homes would be abandoned, but he was afraid that the older ones would be unable to make the move safely. And where would they even move to? Where could they possibly go? Peace might not sustain if they tried to integrate into another smaller pack, so that was off the table.    "I apologize for not knowing the geographical location, but how far away is your village from ours?"    Jackson stared at you with curiosity, unsure how to respond at first. "Relatively close. We're about a day's distance away. Past the twin rivers to the west." Everyone was thinking loudly, most wondering why you were butting in. A couple thinking that the luna should know her place, to only speak when spoken to. Yep. Some things don't change much from the restrictive misogynistic human world.    "Good. We are relatively close. As long as our village agrees we will pool together to bring food and water to you twice a month. We have had a good season. Not only do we have ample crops but it's about to be mating season for the deers. We will have plenty to share." Namjoon was smiling at you. Flashing his dimples in a look of pure adoration. One of the other lunas was wishing that she was you and her mate was scoffing internally at Namjoon.    "Thank you very much." Jackson almost shouted out his glee, the rest of the group was rolling their eyes at his antics.    "Don't thank me yet. I told you, this will only happen as long as the whole of our village agrees." You tried to sound stern, but you couldn't help but give a small smile of reassurance at him. He was willing to do anything for his village, and he was an earnest man. One of the few good ones.    "So how's the problem with the humans for you Namjoon?" The man who was internally scoffing was now speaking, and while he was technically addressing Namjoon he was staring directly at you with venom.    "It's been resolved. We are now at peace with them, thanks to (y/n)." How kind of him, also how humble. It had been a joint effort. Had he just allowed you to be eaten in the forest you wouldn't be here after all.    The man scoffed, muttering something about 'I'll bet she did.' Maybe he didn't actually mutter it, but you know for a fact he thought it. Loud and clear.    "Do you have something you'd like to say?" The words came out strongly from you, without a hint of wavering or backing down. You smirked at his internal dialogue. He hated you, hated that you thought that you could speak to him at all. He hated that he also knew he couldn't put you in 'your place.'    "I just think that if it were me I would have slaughtered them all. Especially after they murdered Yoongi's mate, Hoseok's sister to boot." You felt ice run through your veins. You had no clue. How could you not know this? How had you never found out? You fought the urge to turn around and see Yoongi and Hoseok behind you. How dare this man capitalize on their pain just to try to get a rise out of you? Who did he think he was? Being a jerk to you was one thing, but using the loss of a loved one just to try to put you in, as he said, your place was pathetic. Lowly. He was lucky there were witnesses or you would have ripped his heart right out of his chest.    "You would wager another war? We did that, and it just resulted in more deaths. You, of all people, should know what war can do to a village." Namjoon's words carried a threat to them. Back down, be at peace or you will lose. He spoke calmly, clearly but you could tell by the way he moved forward in his seat and the tick in his jaw that he was holding back the beast within him that was ready to strike.    Silence fell over the room, some were concerned about a fight breaking out. Others were hoping for one, bored enough that they wanted to see a little action and even possibly join in as well. Finally, after a few very tense minutes someone broke the silence. The rest of the day went by painfully slowly. By the time that all of you were back in the cabin, you were emotionally drained and physically exhausted. You wanted to be back at home and in your own bed and not in the eerie summit grounds that remained empty all year except for when every pack leader and their cabinet came together. A place created for only this purpose, neutral grounds far far away from the comfort of the place you had come to love and call home.    Most of the inner cabinet was with you and Namjoon. Jin and his mate had stayed behind at the village. Yoongi and Hoseok were the last to enter the cabin, and part of you wanted answers but when you saw their pained expressions you knew that the wound was too fresh. They hadn't kept the information from you on purpose, it was just a pain that would hurt too much to open back up. You respected that too much to pry. They would tell you some day. Until then you would just be there as a friend to support them. You hadn't been with Namjoon long, but even the thought of losing him left you in pain. The thought of losing a sibling bringing anxiety in a thick black cloud. They had been through so much. How had you not noticed it?    Silently you stood in front of the two of them. It was as if they could understand. No one in the room spoke. All eyes, however, were laying on the three of you. An odd trio. A human and the men, the werewolves, who lost everything because of one. You stepped forward and pulled both of them into a hug, an apology tried to come out but when a sob threatened you closed your mouth. You felt their arms tighten around you. Hoseok was crying on your shoulder, Yoongi was gripping you with so much force you almost couldn't breathe.    Sometimes words aren't necessary. This was one of those moments. The three of you didn't need to speak to convey that the pain was felt and shared. You didn't know her, didn't even know her name. But you knew them. You knew that they didn't deserve that. No one did, but especially not them. You hated that they had endured this pain, that it still laid heavily on their shoulders. Sobs filled the air as Yoongi crumpled to the ground.    You and Hoseok followed him down to the floor, arms laying over him at odd angles. Soon Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon were there as well. If anyone would have walked in they surely would have seen a strange sight. Men crying loudly, their souls broken and screaming out to no one in particular as they held each other. How much had they all seen? War. Murder. Death. From their own kind and from humans. You vowed silently that you would never let anything like this happen again. You hadn't really wanted to be a witch, hadn't cared much about the powers. Until now. If there was any way you could use them to keep them all safe you would. You vowed you would. You played a larger role in life now, you were a part of them of them now. A friend. A luna. A protector. If you had to become queen of the supernatural to ensure their safety then so be it. You would do whatever it took to ensure that something like this would never happen again. Not on your watch.    You weren't sure how long all of you stayed like this. It wasn't until Yoongi and Hoseok were standing up that all of you moved. Jimin was sniffling still, tears running down his thick cheeks as he pulled you into a hug. He gave a muffled thank you to you. You weren't sure why he was thanking you. Maybe this moment of grief had been long put off. You were sure all of them were in pain, had long been suffering silently. Of course they had been. They were a family after all. They might not have lost their sister, or their mate, but she was surely loved like their own family. They lost someone too. They all did.    Eventually, all of you trudged into your separate rooms. You heard Namjoon shut the door behind him, your site a blurry vision as it focused on the ground. His hand wiped away the tears still falling as he kneeled in front of you. He placed his head in your lap and you automatically started stroking his hair as his hands wound around your waist. You might not be home, but as long as he was with you you'd always feel like you were. Home was with him, and this small moment of affection had you finally feeling better. Until you remembered that Yoongi could no longer have this. His mate. Dead. Hoseok's sister...gone forever. Pain rippled through in a new fresh wave all over again, crushing you heavily and threatening to choke you. Guilt and sorrow. Your people did this. You could feel Namjoon's silent tears staining your pants.    "I can feel it. I can feel everything you go through. You aren't at fault. Please, don't blame yourself." You tried to say something, but nothing came out. He was right. You knew you weren't at fault, but it still didn't stop you from feeling agony. You couldn't believe that you had never noticed their pain before. How could you have not realized that this happened? Then you felt surges of anger. How dare that man just bring up that topic, knowing that Yoongi and Hoseok were in the same room. How dare he disregard their feelings just to anger you. It worked. You were angry. You wanted to murder him. Not that it would do any good, but really he was a piece of shit. At the very least he deserves to have his nose broken. Maybe his jaw too, just for good measure. Namjoon is stirring, his face peering up at you intently. You're sure that he can feel the anger that's now flowing from you.    "I just...I hate that guy. He brought it up just to piss me off. He was thinking about how I should be put in my place, he said that to make me feel hurt. To make me feel small. To make me feel like a lowly human. But that is nothing, nothing in comparison to what he did to Yoongi and Hoseok." Your voice is scratchy from crying, and words laced with tired bitterness. Namjoon is moving up and onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his chest. His hands are soothingly rubbing your back and you feel yourself start to finally calm down as you hear a soft knock on your door.    "Come in." Namjoon doesn't move as he speaks and you keep your sight trained on the wall in front of you before Yoongi is suddenly in the way. You blink blearily at him, taking in his puffy red eyes and rounded shoulders. He looks so broken, just a shell of a person. Maybe he's always looked this broken, maybe he's just gotten good at masking it. But now he seems so battle worn and haggard, and you know the facade that he's okay can't be put up anymore. At least not tonight.    "Can I talk to you guys?" His voice is croaky and hoarse, it pains you to even hear him speak.    "Of course." Namjoon's words come out softly as if speaking too loudly might break Yoongi. They wouldn't of course. How can you break something that's already broken?    You don't speak, you just look up at Yoongi before quietly patting the spot on the bed next to you. He squints at the spot on the bed, clearly in an internal dilemma before he finally lets out a deep sigh and sits down next to you. He's rigid and awkward, clearly trying to keep a distance. As if being near you pains him. It's not you though, you know that just being around other people pains him. You're suddenly very aware of the fact that you and Namjoon are sitting tightly next to each other and you realize it's probably the fact that he's next to a couple. The very thing he no longer has. You shift slightly from Namjoon and look back at him, hoping he understands your movements before you're softly placing your hand over Yoongi's.    He seems so small, so tiny next to you right now. Like a lost child. You feel him finally relax before he starts to tremble as he speaks. "I just wanted to thank you (y/n). You would have really liked her. She was everything to me, she was amazing. Everyone loved her. I don't know how I got so lucky that I could have her in my life, even if it was so short. And then when I lost her I just got so angry. You have to understand she...she loved humans. Her favorite stories were all about kingdoms and palaces, and she used to wander out to the forest edge just to try to look inside the kingdom. She's the one who got Jimin so interested in it in the first place. I used to come home to see the two of them reading and laughing together, and they had all these plans. She...she wanted to meet a real-life princess. That was her life goal, she wanted to see what they were really like. If all the stories were right." You feel something break inside you at this admission. Gone too soon, gone before you could even know her.    "She never listened to me. She kept wandering out, even though we knew there were hunting parties and we knew that others had been slain. But she still kept going to the forest edge, and then one day she was gone. I knew she was gone, I could feel her die. I could feel the pain she went through, and I could feel her soul get ripped away from mine. I'm not even whole anymore, my soul has literally been ripped apart. And when we tried to find her body all we saw was blood and fur. They took her, of course, they took her. After all, they just wanted her fucking coat. I couldn't ever bury her, I couldn't even have a proper goodbye. And then I hated. I hated those humans, I wanted all of them dead. So I hunted them, I wanted revenge. But then I met you, and I wanted to hate you but I couldn't. How could I? How could I possibly hate the very thing that she always wanted to meet? How could I hate the thing she loved so much? I hated that I even wanted to hate you, I hated that I even hated humans because she would never have wanted that. But how could I not hate them? How?? Tell me how???? And now, I don't know what to do. She's gone. She's gone, and she's dead and I'm all alone. And when I hated everything it was easy, I could just live for hate. But now, now I'm just empty. And I'm so tired. God I'm just so fucking tired, I don't want to wake up. I don't want to wake up alone, I don't want to wake up expecting to see her face only to remember all over again that she's dead. She's fucking dead, all for some quick cash for some scum humans." He's sobbing now, his body shaking with force. His cries are straight from his soul, and the pain of it is infectious. Grieving has a way of leaving everything around you empty and hallow, and you know that there's not much you can do to fix that.    You take a moment to just allow him to cry. When was the last time he talked to someone about this? Had he ever? Knowing how private he is you're sure that he hasn't. For a year all this pain has been a festering wound, the infection toxically spreading to point of near nonfunctioning. When he finally starts to even out his breathing you speak to him quietly. "It's okay to hate Yoongi. It's okay to hate them. It's okay to even hate me. It's okay to be lost, and scared and confused. But it's not okay to want to die. It's not. I get why, but I need you to understand something. It's more than just about your friends. We would never get over your death, we would always wonder where we went wrong but even then there's still more to it. She left, far too early. She couldn't live out her life, she couldn't see much of it. So you have to do it for her. You have to live for her, you have to experience and do all the things that she would have wanted to. That's what you do now. Because I'm sure she's watching over you, I'm sure she's here with us. So do it for her. Live for her. It's okay to live. It's okay to be happy. It's okay to be sad even. Just please, please Yoongi. Please choose life, I know she wants you to."    Yoongi is just nodding at your words for a moment. Small hiccups bubbling up from him as he clutches to your hand. "Live...for her..." His word is a distant whisper, and you can tell he's not really speaking to anyone other than himself. The three of you remain silent as you watch the sun finally ebb away from the sky and darkness starts to fill the room.    "Yoongi, please talk to us. It's okay to not talk if you don't want to, but sometimes you should at least let us know. We're here for you. We're your family, and your ours. We love you." Namjoon sounds like he's on the verge of crying, just barely holding it together. Yoongi's grip on your hand tightens almost painfully for a moment before he's suddenly standing up.    "Thank you." He's looking over at the two of you with a tear-stained face before he's slowly making his way out of the room.    When you hear the sound of Yoongi's door closing down the hall you finally speak, sure to keep your voice down to just a whisper. After all, werewolves do have sensitive hearing and you don't want anyone to hear this. "Namjoon...what happens when your mate dies?"    Namjoon pulls you back into his chest, his head resting on top of yours. "It just depends. When they die very young, especially if it's before there's been a child then usually you'll find another mate. The universe has a way of making sure that everything balances out."    Something pulls deep within you, and you know you have to ask. "He has another mate now, doesn't he?"    "Yes...but I don't know who. I think I'm the only one that knows he does. The elder came by last month to tell me that Yoongi was very distraught and that he found out that there's another mate. But he wouldn't tell the elder who it was, he just kept saying that it wasn't possible. That he wouldn't be with anyone else. That he'd rather..." He never finishes the sentence, but you know what he's implying. Yoongi would rather die than have another mate. A part of you understands. While you haven't been with Namjoon anywhere near as long as Yoongi was with his mate, you're sure that if Namjoon died you wouldn't ever move on. Not really. How could you?    "I love you." The words come out choked, and even though you thought it was impossible to still shed more tears they're threatening to fall once more.    "I love you. So much. You're everything to me." Namjoon is crying freely now, and the two of you fall asleep that night clutching to each other in the darkness. Afraid that if the two of you aren't touching that somehow you'll be forced away from each other. At first, you dream of a world where you could have met Hoseok's sister and Yoongi's mate. A world where everything is whole and right and perfect but then the dream morphs and you see rivers of blood and clumps of fur all around you and you hear screams of pain and howls of death before you're waking up covered in cold sweat. You try to settle next to Namjoon, but you can't go back to sleep. Fear is crippling you, you can't shut your eyes and possibly see those same visions.    Carefully you extract yourself from Namjoon's tight hold. When you're sure that he's not awake you dress slowly and quietly. Dawn hasn't even arrived yet, but you can tell that it's approaching soon enough. You're not sure where you're going, but you know you need to get out of the cabin. Maybe take a walk, just enjoy fresh air because you still feel as if that nightmare is suffocating you.    You walk down the hallways as silently as possible, setting your way out the door when you realize that Hoseok and Yoongi are sitting in front of the fireplace. You freeze as you look at them. Dark circles and heavy bags under their eyes, their skin dry and sallow and somehow they look like they've aged in just a few hours. Hoseok gives you a small smile, but you can tell by the way it doesn't reach his eyes that it's an empty one. "Couldn't sleep either?" His voice cracks from not being used in so long. You shake your head no and look over at the door. You could leave, but now you don't really want to. So instead you make your way over to one of the empty chairs and silently stare into the fire. Even though it's crackling and blazing the heat doesn't reach you. It doesn't reach any of you. Sorrow has this strange way of making everything so cold, so bitterly cold.    You're not sure how long you stare into the orange flames. The room starts to become hazy with the morning light slowly pouring in, and somehow as you start to relax your realize that you can hear their thoughts. You're trying desperately not to pry, but they're thinking far too loudly. Hoseok is seeing a memory, and the flashes of a girl smiling up at him is suddenly in your mind's eye. She was so beautiful, so happy. It was easier when you didn't know her face, but now she feels all too real. Agony washes over you in new waves before suddenly the fuzzy thoughts of Yoongi are prominent and stubborn and no matter how much you try to run you can't get away from his thoughts. They aren't words or images. It's just pure pain. It's almost as though your skin is being stripped off of you as if a hot poker is searing you from the inside out. It's the pain of his broken soul that has you releasing a gut-wrenching, blood-curdling scream of pure agony before everything falls black.    You're not sure how you got here, but you know exactly where you are as you look around. It's a void of nothingness, and while before it had been calming now you feel your skin prickle with unease. You're in the same place that you went to when the seal on your powers was released. But this time there was no spell. This time there were no powers to unleash. This time it's different. This time you know you're not alone in the void.

[paperspell]

Kingdom Hearts || Three Half Promises

Rating: Teens and up

@mimiplaysgames and @lyssala deserve all the attention for being such great beta readers and even more amazing writers. Please check out their work!

Summary: A character study of Aqua and Terra from childhood to adulthood

Chapter 3: A heart that is stronger still | Lend me your strength, and I’ll lend you mine

"Pond lilies, mud and moss all indicate whether or not water is close at hand," Eraqus explains, as he stands nearby a thick stream that cuts through the forest. He points at the rocks nearby, all covered with green moss, then at the grass wet with dew, and finally at the mud, slick on his student's shoes.

Today the three of them take a detour outside of the familiar mountain path and down the slope, nearer to the woods. So far Eraqus has shown Terra and Aqua how to read the terrain, everything from different types of rocks to plants to trees. Depending on what is spotted, location becomes an easy thing to figure out.

The two students follow him through the woods, momentarily stopping whenever a thought occurs to Eraqus that is imperative to share. Most of their lessons are like that, and Aqua has grown accustom to his offhand teachings – they're like streams, branching out in different directions, but eventually coming back and merging together within banks of water.

"Some worlds are without people or towns, just open wilderness. In fact, I've encountered a world full of just animals, and had even banded together with a handful of lions." Eraqus grins as both Aqua and Terra gape in wonderment at the statement. "But that's a story for another time. The reason why you must remember these tips is that remote worlds hold dangers of their own, even if they are not strictly physical…"

Days in which they go exploring are, in Aqua's opinion, the best. They get to wander around freely, taking in the grass and clear blue sky. So far, they have crossed a narrow path behind the underside of a waterfall, seen flocks of geese and hummingbirds fly off, and smelled the sweet fragrances of honeysuckle lingering in the air. She learns new things that she didn't consider of much consequence before. Dirt is just dirt, at least until the Master makes it so much more. Living in a world with mountains and steep cliffs is tricky, and Eraqus proceeds on telling his students the dangers of landslides as well as how to spot them and endure the worst-case scenario.

Every time they go for a trip to acquaint themselves with survival or wilderness tidbits, Aqua finds herself yearning to cross beyond what they have already explored. However, no matter how close, they never leave the road Eraqus leads them with – by the end of the afternoon, they always go back to the castle, where the Master directs them to books on plant life (what is edible, what cures ailments, and what can knock you out for good if you aren't too careful), water cycles, and rocks. It's dry reading, every single one, and Aqua's fairly certain she's the only one who bothers to flip through them.

The nights go by, far too short for her to cover everything at once. Although the funny thing is, almost all that she has read circles back to Kingdom Hearts, whatever it is – she still hasn't got a clean grasp of it. She drills and drills until some names sticks, some constellations clear up to finally become actual patterns. Terra becomes silent during their lessons, giving her the opportunity to reply to Eraqus' open questions. Though, given the gleam in his eyes, Aqua is certain that he knows the answer. He's holding back, almost as if gauging her knowledge in comparison to his. This would be alright, if only it didn't interfere with her own studies.

Recently, whenever she makes her way to the library after dinner, the books she's been meaning to take out are gone.

The fourteenth day since Aqua's arrival in the Land of Departure is a momentous one – it's her first lesson with Eraqus on swordplay. While they have been steadily working their way to that point with various other exercises, she could not be satisfied any longer, not when compared to Terra, who is still sparring on his own. She watches his movements just as before but limits herself in case he becomes too aware.

The two students and the Master head over to the summit on a hot afternoon, a stash of potions and protective gear at hand. She is to observe at the sideline first, while Eraqus and Terra set up to spar. As Eraqus points out, it will ease her into her very own first battle. Once Terra fastens the last of his gear, the two of them circle each other, wooden swords at the ready.

After a moment's deliberation, the student springs onward with a straight thrust, easily deflected by a downward swing from the Master. Terra leaps back, before making his way under Eraqus' arm, trying to get closer to his target. Eraqus reads this too, and merely sidesteps as Terra wavers to and fro, looking for some kind of opening. Eventually, Terra unleashes a wave of sharp jabs, each met with parries of equal measure from Eraqus.

With one small step, the Master pushes Terra back with the strike of his own, sending the boy back a couple of paces.

Terra's lips curl as he shifts his feet, away from a brace to a more sprint-like stance. He jets back to the Master with speed Aqua hasn't seen him use before. The tip of his blade hits the flat of Eraqus' sword. The Master looks on, amused.

"A sliding dash. Not bad," Eraqus chuckles, "but not quite, Terra."

In an instant, Eraqus hits the base of Terra's weapon, and with a quick twist he brings the sword to the ground with a wooden clatter.

"Shall we try again?"

"Yes," Terra huffs. "Yes Master."

This goes on for a bit longer, each time with Terra on the offense and Eraqus on the defense. The boy is openly gasping now, sweat dripping down his chin. It hasn't been more than half an hour, but given his movements, the constant leg work and swings are finally wearing him down. Eraqus, on the other hand, is perfectly fine. Other than the occasional dodge, the Master's footwork never strays past his fix position, making it all too easy for him to rest as he brushes off his student's barrage.

"My boy, your swings are too wide, and so is your stance. If you want to keep fighting in such a way, you must find a solution to keep your defenses up. Otherwise–"

Eraqus pulls back, then lunges at the boy with a slap to his torso on the flat of his blade. Terra doubles over, sinking to the ground.

"Do you yield?"

"Not – not yet…" Terra's eyes are gleaming fiercely. He's smirking.

"As much as I appreciate that sort of determination," Eraqus says, "I do believe you have to back down this time Terra."

"Huh?" Terra frowns. "Why?"

"Well, simply put, it's Aqua's turn."

They both spin to face her. She gulps.

Terra eyes widen with realization before he dips his head to look bitterly at the ground. By the looks of it, he's forgotten completely that she was even there. Aqua shuffles forward to meet with Eraqus, as Terra stalks back to the side to apply potion on his newly formed bruises.

Eraqus shows her the fundamental basics; how to strike, to block, to parry, and even how to stand right. He lets her practice getting a few hits in, stopping to guide her hands with the correct motion.

"Do not hesitate with your attacks. Always try to hit quickly, that way your opponent will have a harder time seeing through it."

He does not say much on her blocks. He gives a few experimental strikes, each of which she catches.

"You have excellent reflexes. Good. Now, let's test them to battle."

Aqua and Eraqus part the same distance as he and Terra did, beginning with a slow circle. She tries to be as cautious as ever; her stance is more closed than Terra's and she holds out her geared left arm in case she has to block early. Eraqus studies her, waiting for her to make the first move, but she holds out. She figures maybe it'll be best if she waits for him. After all, in Standard Techniques of Swords and Shields, it states the best way to get to know your foe's attack patterns is to study them first.

"Not attacking?" Eraqus questions, before giving a thoughtful hmm. "Then I suppose I'll go first."

He rushes in with speed that is far superior than that of his pupil. Aqua barely had time to lift her sword up to block it.

"A sliding dash…!" she exclaims.

He's directly in front of her, but her sword is ready–

Eraqus fakes a right, then swoops over to hit her left. She parries just in time, but he leaves no room to breathe. He keeps pushing, forcing her to take a step back each time. Her defense is chipping away every second, and she is fumbling because she doesn't have enough time to protect herself, let alone retaliate. Fear, which presence was at first subtle enough, now grips at her completely.

The Master senses her unease but does not let up. He disarms her just as he did with Terra, all of this happening under a minute. The wooden sword scrapes her palm as it leaves her hand, scorching it red. Aqua squeaks in pain, about to grab her potion to gloss it over when Eraqus stops her.

"You may want to save that," he warns. "Our battle is far from over, and I assure you, there will be many other injuries in the future. One of the crucial parts of training is to build a tolerance for pain. Now, are you ready to go again?"

Her hand still stings, among the other jabs the Master made as he poked through the holes of her defense. This…isn't very fun. The flashy, astonishing combat is different now that she's on the receiving end. Aqua wants time to halt, to give her a chance to catch her breath, or maybe just say no, but she hasn't a moment to dwell. Eraqus is readying his stance, and she could see Terra a few yards away, clearly unimpressed by her performance.

Hadn't she known, or rather, expected there to be something like this when she left Radiant Garden? She grew too enraptured by the promise of being a Keyblade Master that she forgot – incredibly and irrationally – how she has to work for it.

Eraqus continues to give her a verbal lesson on how to properly spar as they go on. She dodges his rush, tripping on occasion. "Keep an even distribution of weight on each leg," he says, weaving through and landing a blow. "Deflect more!" Another hit. "Guard with your armor, not your hand." And another.

By time Aqua is allowed a break, she is throbbing all over – although, she is sure her bruises are no worse than Terra's. She uses only half her potion, whereas he used all of it from his flask. As she uncaps the cork, it transforms from a liquid state to a light mist that showers her body. The pain dulls, swept by a cooling sensation. The cuts look fainter, the wounds and scrapes are closing up.

Terra splashes water on his face from a pond back at the pathway, which seems like a good idea, but she figures if she were to try the same thing, he would shoot her an accusatory glare. Eraqus sits on a bench by the other side of the summit, looking as pensive as ever.

"Sheer opposites in fighting…" he mumbles. "How curious…"

After some deliberation, he calls his two students over.

"When it comes to combat, the best way to strengthen your move set is to practice with different people, that way your combinations don't get stale." Eraqus moves his head to face Terra and Aqua in equal measure. She has an uneasy feeling with what that implies, and so does Terra.

"But Master," Terra cries, already indignant. "I can't train with her, we're on completely different levels–"

"And that is precisely why, my boy." Eraqus says, waving away the boy's protest. "Aqua needs to improve to match you in the future. You will find what you can learn from each other holds as much value as what I can teach. Don't forget – it is very likely that both of you will serve as each other's partners and companions, even as Masters."

Terra is chewing the side of his cheek, fiercely trying to come up with a counter argument. His train of thought is completely lost, however, when Aqua speaks up.

"Sir, I agree with Terra. I don't want to – er, I mean, I think it's best if I train with you. For the basics."

The moment this leaves her mouth is the moment Aqua knows how much of a mistake she's made. Eraqus looks at both of his students in a way that she's sure he is taking note of the distance which they are standing apart from each other – of how Terra is scowling, no matter how hard he's trying to hide it, and putting it together with her defiant outburst.

"Before either of you say anymore, I would like for you to cross blades before you cross judgement with me. Try before you resist something that's new. If you don't have a measure of strength outside of your own, it will be difficult to gain any improvement, I assure you." Eraqus claps his hands together. "Now, make your way to the center and begin."

The finality of his orders could not be disputed. The two students head over as instructed and begin circling each other. Aqua keeps a steady grip on her sword and puts most of her weight on her back foot, in case she has to leap back from his charge. Sure enough, Terra makes the first move and attacks, as she correctly predicts, to her left. A sharp whap echoes as their wooden swords connect.

Terra wastes no time in pushing her back after that; Aqua recoils as he advances with each lunge. The match is going on too similarly to what she had with Eraqus, and if she doesn't do anything fast, it will end the same as well. She tries a few strikes back, but her handling of the sword is clumsy, and Terra easily knocks them aside.

Terra is neither as fast nor strong as Eraqus, so this should have been easier. However, he has the leverage of stamina over her, and Aqua can't keep blocking him forever. The swings he makes are much quicker face to face, and her deflects are weaker now, even if she can read his moves. Every breath is costing her, and there is an ever-growing stitch at her side.

With a surprise sliding dash and upper strike, her sword goes sailing over her head. She gasps, barely registering what has happened. Terra brings his weapon down to his side.

The spar ends well below a ten-minute mark. Aqua hurries over to pick up her sword. Through the curtains of her hair, she expects to see Terra sport a subtle gloat, maybe with the slight curve of his lips only she could tell, carefully hidden from the Master. However, much to her surprise, Terra is neither proud nor smug over his victory. The boy merely looks onward, unamused and almost bored, as his gaze drifts past her to survey their Master. Shame settles in the pit of Aqua's stomach. She hasn't been anything to him, not even someone worth fighting...

The afternoon wanes to dusk, and they go for a few more rounds until Eraqus beckons them to stop. By the end of it, Aqua has not produced a single win.

"It is as I expected," Eraqus nods. "Regardless, excellent work, the both of you."

The Master goes on to make suggestions of their form and technique, but Aqua doesn't hear any of it. Nothing is more pressing at this point than her constant losses, of being dismissed as nothing more than a chore. Her face burns as she keeps quiet while the lesson concludes, dimly aware that Eraqus suggests for them to head back to the castle.

When the three of them leave the summit, she finds that her arms, tired and sore, can barely hold the now incredible weight of her sword.

After her evening chores that night, Aqua stays by the forecourt for some time before she has to retire back to bed. Whereas she would normally work through these hours with the certain zeal of catching up to Eraqus' expectation, and perhaps overtaking Terra along the way, tonight she feels as lost as she did when she discovered what really was in the treasure room. She stares listlessly at the stars, unable to pick at where Radiant Garden should be.

"Sorry you guys," she whispers under her arms as she curls up. "I'm not as good as you thought I was."

She plans to sulk the whole night away, but it seems that it isn't an option. No sooner had she decided this did the doors of the castle creaks open, and out comes Eraqus. She stands up, hastily wiping the grass stains from her seat, only for him to wave her actions away and plunk down close to where she sat before. She eases back to the ground, trying to keep the glum from her face.

"How brilliantly the stars shine tonight," Eraqus hums. "I find that looking at them brings me a great deal of comfort. They remind me of where I have been and where I hope to go."

Eraqus begins listing the constellations, providing a brief review to their astronomy lessons a few days prior. He prompts her to answer, and slowly but surely, she is able to find her old home. At first, she exclaims with joy, having found it at last among the cluster, but her voice falters, and suddenly, Aqua is overcome by a horrible realization – unlike Eraqus, there is no place for her to hope to go except home.

With what has happened today, she's blotched his impression on her by revealing how poorly she could handle a sword. Did he come out then, to tell her that there has been a mistake? That she is no longer worthy if she is nowhere close to the strength of his first pupil, so why bother? Her lips tremble as she tries to form her next words.

"Should I pack right away sir?" she blurts out, before fear renders her mute.

"Aqua, what do you mean?" Eraqus asks, puzzled at the change in their conversation.

"I mean that I lost." Aqua droops her head down to her knees. "Not just once, but like, every match. I'm no good at this even if I do summon a Keyblade. And even Terra hasn't managed to do that yet, so there's no chance I could. You're going to send me back home, right?"

Eraqus takes a moment to digest her worries. Then he lets out a full laugh.

"My dear," he says, after the delight has worn off. "There is no sense in taking you back. This is your home now."

"But sir, I – I've lost to Terra–"

"Yes, and Terra has lost to me," Eraqus states matter-of-factly. "If it's all in the matter of who wins and who losses, then – forgive me if I am being too callous – but I will always champion. At least until time allows."

She blinks. "That's because you're a Master..."

"But I was not always. I started off as a student, just the same as you two, if not a bit older in age. It is through practice things get easier. Terra has only honed his skills this far because of that, and still he has ways to go. You can usually tell by shape of a person's hands."

Eraqus lifts his own for her to see. Shining in the moonlight is the rough texture of his palms. Timidly, she presses her own smooth hand to lay on top of his, feeling out every millimeter of calluses. Although not exactly withered or old, his hand gives a sense of fine age and experience, brought out by its harden texture. When he closes his eyes, that scar etched on his face stretches, making its presence known when she least expects it.

"You see, regardless of how much we win or lose, that alone does not determine our greatness. It is our ability to preserve and hold on to what we define as victory that matters more. For example, I make it my lasting duty to teach and bestow those with talent to unlock their heart's desire. Terra strives to be the mightiest of all." He pauses. "And what about you?"

"I want," she says, swallowing thickly, "I want to become a Keyblade Master."

"And no doubt you will," Eraqus says, then a bit jokingly, "so long as you don't cry for your old home after every defeat."

She sighs through her nose, the corner of her lips lifting. "Do you think so, Mr. Eraqus sir?"

"I? Of course," Eraqus says, without a hint of doubt. "I believe you have the splendid makings of a worthy Keybearer. But you don't have to take my word, or rather, anyone else's to believe that."

It's unspoken, but she's sure she knows who Eraqus is referring to. Again, the gloominess returns, but this time it is accompanied by a twinge of annoyance. Even if they achieve the goal of becoming Masters themselves in the future, Aqua can't bring herself to see Terra as a partner, especially if he doesn't even see her as an equal. Something about Eraqus' statement hints to the fact he knows of their strain, and he seems to consider a moment before telling her the truth.

"Aqua, would you like to hear a story?"

"Yes sir," she says, wondering if it's a lesson only disguised as so.

"To be honest, it's not a happy one," Eraqus huffs, "but it's important all the more."

Eraqus looks upwards to the sky, his face hardening so that any signs of merriment from before has vanished.

"It was a few years ago, back when I had no students. During my search, one of my colleagues gave warning to me about a certain distress happening where he was. He asked for my help, thoroughly connecting our hearts so I can travel straightaway to him, past all the stars and the worlds. I was enveloped with light, and in that instant, I understood – I was making my way to a world that was in danger of being snuff out. Completely."

Aqua heard a gasp. At first, she is startled, having no idea where it came from, then realizing it was her who made the sound.

"When I got there, I saw no sign of my friend. All I saw was a surge of those dark creatures, shadows overtaking the land. You see, the world was already spent. Its light was not strong enough for the intruders. Where the darkness came from was a mystery. Despite all that, I witnessed something remarkable – I found a boy on a collapsing world. It was falling to darkness, and as it was, he nearly fell alongside it.

"Out of all the children I've seen, he possessed the strongest light by far. Unfortunately, the brightest light often cast the longest shadow. The creatures followed him until the very end. I was able to pull him out, but I regret...well, he did not leave the world unscathed. Darkness struck his hand, and try as I might, my magic has no cure for that.

"I imagine his parents and the other residents have found refuge elsewhere. However, we have no way of knowing for sure, with all the other uncharted worlds existing. Still, I do hope..."

The Master left that sentence hanging in the air, and this time Aqua really didn't know what to say. There was sadness in his voice, and maybe a little bit of wistfulness too.

It's very, very late by now. They both get up from the grass and head back to the castle. As Aqua is about to head off to her bedroom on the opposite wing, Eraqus stops her to tell one more thing before he retires himself.

"Terra has seen and bore witness to many things. He went from a place of darkness and came out of it at a very tender age." Eraqus says. "And so, I hope it is not too much of me to ask for you to still be kind to him. Strong hearts need support from stronger hearts still, my dear."

"Yes Master." She says, and bows to Eraqus, just as Terra would have.

As she makes her way to her room, she could see Terra's just a few paces away. His door is closed, but underneath she could see faint light emitting from the gap. She wonders if he's still working through those books he managed to swipe from under her nose, or perhaps he's carving out something from the wood blocks with knives, as she saw from her first day – the only time she was able to see his room.

She knows about privacy, had even wanted more than that the orphanage could give. But still, there ought to be something greater to a person other than locked rooms and muted expressions.

As she falls to slumber, thinking about all that Eraqus had told her, she figures out the boy across the hall better, if just a little bit. Maybe it's no surprise that he is sullen and detached. Was he scared when it happened? When everything he knew was falling? When he was falling?

Questions upon questions. Aqua could feel sleep trying to claim her before long, the sensation akin to her mind dropping fast but still holding on to a precious thought – a wonder more accurately, of when Terra will finally open the door.

[rm1xtape]

castle and moon

pjm x reader

bts medieval!au

warnings: angst, smut (not very graphic)

summary: he seemed to have no love in his heart, taken over by ice instead, but when the two heirs from the most powerful kingdoms in the land are to marry, love may not seem that far away.

word count: 2k

a/n: ahh i’m back with another one-shot! i originally got this idea from a request and normally i wouldn't take requests but i was inspired so here we are!! i really hope you enjoy! feedback is welcomed and appreciated. please be kind. xoxo

(inspo: i miss you by soyou)

————

the sun streamed through the lace curtains, lighting up the room, and causing everything to glitter gold. it was almost blinding. the sky was a bright blue, with puffy clouds stitched up in the sky. birds chattered noisily outside. you squinted at the bright sun. but you didn’t shy away. didn’t huddle under the covers like you normally would. an uneasy feeling settled in your stomach and you gripped onto the silk sheets in sadness. today you were leaving your family, your life, your kingdom. all to be married to the jerk who was park jimin. just thinking his name made you tense.

park jimin was the heir to the chaesen kingdom, one of the most powerful kingdoms in the land. the second most powerful being yours, the atrothen kingdom. so, from the moment you were born, you knew who your future husband would be. it just made sense. you wished it didn’t, but it did. everything was about power and money in this world. you longed for it to about love. a childish wish you’ve kept all of your life.

the first time you met jimin was when you were six years old. he greeted you with a tug on your hair and a push in the dirt. not a good impression to say the least. it just got worse as the two of you grew older. he became more distant as time went on. you didn’t mind him being mean because he would talk to you at least, and you did have good moments. but as the days neared to your wedding, he cut off communication completely. you wanted to reach out to him, share your fears with him. he would laugh and call you a baby. he’d grace you with his impression of you. then he’d say, ‘you have nothing to worry about jagi, it’s just me.’ and then he’d give you a hug, and you wouldn't be so miserable. but like the utter jerk he was, he refused to talk to you.

you shook your head, trying to stop thinking. you got out of bed and called for a maid to help you dress for the day. a nice blush dress is what you decided to wear. the dress was modest, but hugged your body nicely. you decided to wear your hair down in curls, and a natural makeup look would suffice. the last thing to add was a gold crown. gold was your kingdom’s colour. jimin’s kingdom’s colour was silver. to truly impress you should’ve worn a silver one, to immerse yourself in their ways. but you were proud to wear the glittering gold one. you had to have something that reminded you of home.

after you finished dressing, you made your way down to the kitchens to grab a quick snack before you left. at least that’s what you told your father. truly, you wanted to say goodbye to everyone. growing up as an only child with busy parents, left you alone quite often. so the help became your closest friends. and you were glad for it. they helped raise you to be a kind, passionate, intelligent young woman. once you entered the kitchen, you said goodbye to everyone, blinking tears away. you tried to leave just as quickly, since your parents were waiting, but you heard someone call your name. you recognized the voice immediately. no, you thought, i don’t need this right now. before you knew it, the same person pulled you aside into a hallway.

“taehyung, what are you doing? i have to leave,” you said sternly, not looking at him. too scared the sad look on his face would make you breakdown.

“were you going to leave without saying goodbye to me?” he asked, his deep voice echoing throughout the hall.

“they’re waiting for me,” you said wiping a stray tear from your eye. taehyung placed his hand under your chin and brought your head up so you would meet his eyes. his eyes were shining, glassy with tears.

taehyung helped in the stables of the barn. you used to love to go out there and groom the horses. but, what you loved the most was laying in the hay with taehyung, kissing him over and over and over, until you were both breathless. you were in love with him. he was in love with you. he made you so, so happy. in a different world, you would have married him in an instant. then you could have a normal life. but he was just a stable boy. and you were a princess. if only this was about love, if only things were different. if only.

“i’m going to miss you,” he said, and you were about to speak but he shushed you, “make sure he takes care of you. if he ever hurts you, he’ll answer to me. (y/n), i love you to the end of the never-ending universe and back. and because of this, i want you to be happy. if you’re happy then I’m happy, so know i’ll be okay.”

“taehyung…” you said before tears ran down your cheeks freely. he then kissed your rosy lips softly. the kiss lingered for seconds before he pulled away. he wiped your tears away and then told you to leave. so, you did. not before saying,

“i only wish we had more time.”

————

the silver castle loomed above overwhelmingly. you stepped out of the carriage and walked towards where jimin and his family was waiting. curtsying lowly, you introduced yourself. they analyzed everything. your words. your attire. th crown which clashed with theirs. jimin’s face was of stone as you entered the castle.

you were whisked away to your quarters and there a beautiful white lace gown was awaiting you. you were almost sick at the sight. the nerves finally caught up to you. you excused yourself to the washroom and retched a few times before going back. the maids helped you into the dress and you gulped as you looked into the mirror. your skin had paled and a thin layer of sweat covered your face. this wasn’t you. running through a sunflower field with tae, dancing the night away with no cares, being utterly happy, laughing at anything and everything. that was you. but the girl who stood in front of in the mirror, fear like ice in her eyes, that was not you.

————

the wedding was short and sweet, you managed to walk down the aisle in front of thousands without tripping. you saw your mother and father smiling. although you resented them, they were happy so you should try to be too. you held jimin’s hands which were as cold as his gaze, as the priest read out the vows. you said ‘i do’ after hesitating for more than necessary. for a moment you wanted to run down the aisle, out of the palace, and back to your own. or maybe to just run and never stop. but you said the words softly. and then jimin had kissed your lips. you froze in that moment. and then it was over.

the reception began and you sat by jimin’s side the whole night. you danced once and he hadn’t talked to you that whole time. everyone could see you two weren’t exactly a happy couple. you watched the performers and you filled your stomach with sweet desserts. then, that was over too. jimin walked you to your quarters, said goodnight, and then left. you breathed out a sigh of relief. you were not to consummate the marriage right away.

once you were in bed, you began to think. about everything. thank god, jimin had not forced himself upon you tonight. you had always dreamed of your first time being with taehyung but that’s now impossible. impossible, that word which you hated. taehyung’s name brought tears to your eyes. you cried for a bit and then the darkness of sleep claimed you.

—————

months had passed, and it seemed as if your relationship with jimin had not progressed at all. he had started talking to you again, which you appreciated. but there was always a sense of coldness to him. you wondered why. after all this time, you couldn’t decide whether life had changed for the better or worse. everything was so neutral.

a month ago you had gotten a letter from taehyung. he had gotten married. although your heart hurt slightly, you were happy for him. and you knew that chapter of your life was over. you sent him all the best, and you wished that for yourself as well.

on a warm night, you decided to go outside to the gardens. the moon shone above, the stars illuminating the night as well. the bench was cold against your backside as you sat down. your nightgown was thinner so you shivered. the flowers around you seemed to calm you down, their beauty uncomparable, and you breathed the cool wind in deeply. you heard a rustling and then someone sat beside you. you opened your eyes and realized it was jimin. his hair looked perfect as usual, his lips plump, his eyes dark. you longed to love him, and to have him love you.

“good evening,” he said formally, no emotion connected to the words. you snapped.

“what’s your problem? can’t you talk to me like a normal person? we used to be friends! we used to talk! and now your acting as if i’m a business associate or something stupid like that,” you grabbed his hand and pulled it close to your chest, where your heart beat loudly, “i’m your wife. you’re supposed to talk to me, we’re supposed to trust each other. but you’re so… so cold, you jerk!”

he bristled at your words. and then he sighed, as if he knew this as well.

“i am a jerk. and an idiot. and an utter bastard. and a horrible husband. i’m sorry. i was scared, (y/n). i was scared of you- of us. i started loving you a long time ago, but i knew you didn’t love me back. that frightened me.”

“do you still?”

“still what?”

“still love me?” tears brimmed your eyes at his confession.

“i’d be a fool to have stopped.” then his sparkling eyes met yours and he smiled. a real smile. one you missed. you smiled too. then you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a kiss.

you melted into one another and you gasped as he deepened the kiss, tongue tracing the outline of your mouth.

“follow me.” he said lowly, then lead you up to his room. you had never been in here before and your stomach flipped with nerves. he laid you down on the bed and continued to kiss you, which left you breathless. he pulled away as he moved to kiss down your neck.

“i’ve been thinking about this since you first stepped out of that carriage, in that damn pink dress, looking like an angel.” you whined as he left hickeys down your neck, his hands started to pull your nightgown off and you stopped him for a second. he left small kisses on you as you spoke.

“i’ve never done this before. i’m kind of nervous,” he kissed you softly and smiled,

“i’ll take care of you, jagi.” jagi. you smiled and helped him pull of your clothes as well as his. he murmured about how beautiful you were and how much he loved you as his head slipped between your legs, in a way that had you seeing stars. he continued to praise you as he entered, and you were surprised by the pain that then turned to pleasure.

his name was a mantra falling off your lips. he made you feel so loved that night, with his actions and words. everything was hot, yet sweet and comforting. after, you both laid in his bed, you wrapped up in his arms.

“you should sleep in here from now on,” he said, chuckling softly. you nodded in agreement sleepily. for the first time in a long time, you were truly happy.

“jimin?”

“yes, jagi?”

“thank you, for loving me,”

“it’s one of my greatest joys.”

—————

after you finally knew the truth behind jimin’s coldness, your relationship became stronger. and soon the two of you became king and queen. he ruled with passion and determination, whereas you ruled with kindness and excitement. it worked perfectly together. and as the days went on, you fell more and more in love with each other. yes, in this world, power and money are important and goals for many people. but, with jimin’s help, you were able to bring love into the world. your childish dream of true love became your forever goal. maybe a happily ever after was in fact possible.

[fyrapartnersearch]

Seeking Literate and Active Partners

Introduction

Hello there, my name is Serenity, but feel free to call me Ren. Okay, so here are the basics and all that, no fun but very much so needed. I am a female in the central time zone and I am 18. I am currently a student but even so I'm on and reply daily (if I won't be able to I will tell you ahead of time I promise). I have been writing for about six years and over time I have come to prefer literate partners, I'm able to write maybe up to six or seven paragraphs, I ask for one minimum and unless I have an exceptional muse I match length because that's likely what I can only go off of. Now, I understand sometimes posts will be shorter, just MOSTLY I want one paragraph minimum. I strongly prefer MxF couplings, but I am open to try MxM and FxF, I promise I won't be any good at it and I'll be shy about it at first but hopefully I'll come around, I need to broaden my horizons anyway. I like my smut when I'm in the mood so I ask that my partner is also 18+, thank you. I absolutely love to double up, doubling adds more options and variety to an rp as far as I'm concerned. I am able to play up to four major characters no problem and still add in side characters, though if I'm doing that much I promise I expect the same from you. I'm perfectly fine with playing male or female, but if we're doing more than one character each I don't want to play ONLY the males. I like using POC in my roleplays just as much as the stereotypical beautiful blonde, I like a little variety. When it comes to fandoms I only ever do OC's in the fandom world, personal preference.

Fandoms

- Maximum Ride

- Shadowhunters/The Mortal Instruments

- Percy Jackson (Anything I freaking love this man)

- Wolves of the Beyond

- Warriors

- Guardians of Ga'Hoole

- Hunger Games

Interests

- Romance in general

- Fantasy

- Boarding School

- Pregnancy

- Realistic Wolf Pack

- Medieval Kingdom

- Furry

- Brothel

- Vampires, Werewolves, anything really

- Arranged Marriage

Iffy But Open To

- Incest

- Animal play?

- Age play

Limits

- Scat

- Watersports

Pet Peeves

- Bad Grammar (Like just competently blatantly horrible, a little comma missing or something is fine but do not rp with me like "r u sure?" unless it's a text a character is sending)

My Prompts: Inquire for more.

Tearmunn:

A beautiful, large, and magical kingdom known as Tearmunn is nestled along the coastline of the sea of Tamron. This amazing kingdom is led by tyrannical King Johnathon O'Dair. The king is very conservative and does not approve of all the supernaturals in his kingdom. He wants them all gone, even going through the trouble to send guards out to murder them. Little does the evil king know his son and daughter, Ansel and Arabella, are both not human. His late wife, Queen Isadora, was a wolf shifter. She passed only a few years ago, the death took a great toll on the young Prince and Princess. The King issued a period of mourning for the entire kingdom, which in that time is when the young royals started to go against their father. The duo loved their father, that was undeniable, but they both hated how he ruled. They knew something had to be done about it. Ansel and Arabella started harbouring 'Undesireables' on their private island of Theo first and soon after began helping them out by finding jobs and homes for them on the mainland. The young royals have continued to help the 'Undesireables' in their land and now Tearmunn is even more rich than it was before, although the king still wants them gone. Lately, more and more 'Undesireables' have been coming up dead or missing. The very beings Ansel and Arabella invited, promising safety, were now dying off. What are they to do? It's not only their father now, there is something worse…something darker out there at work. How will they ever find out? Will it be too late? Come join us all in the amazing, magical land of Tearmunn and find out for yourself.

Into the Wild:

As a pampered, city dog could you survive out in the wild? Could you find your own food, keep yourself warm without the comfortable heat of a home, remain alive in the forest? Could you live peacefully alongside the wolves you’ve heard so many terrifying things about? With recent changes you've been forced to do just those things. Will you remain a stray or will you join this dog pack that has risen? The choice is yours, Into the Wild you go.

Wild, fierce, and cunning. You as a wolf have lived in this forest and with this pack since your birth. You're loyal to your pack and defend it with your life if necessary. With the new threat to your prey the dogs are how will you be towards them? Most wolves in the pack hate the dogs, but do you? The choice is yours, but remember to keep your head low and never disobey the alpha.

This is WAR:

In the forest of Oudéteros the two packs Nekrá and Anésti have resided beside one another at an uneasy peace for many, many moons. The territories were not always peaceful, though. Generations back the two had war, blood was spilled, relentless murders for no reason, all this and more, but, one small group of wolves came along and decided constant battle and war were not the answers. The group of four, two from each pack of varying ranks, received a message from the alphas of the past, the message was carved in a slab of stone and it read:

 You four, the Healer, the Negotiator, the Dauntless, and the Leader. It will be you four to end this war. The war must end for if not, all of wolf kind in the amazing land will cease to exist. Of course the four wolves found this insane, not only were they paired with enemies, but how would THEY end the war? They were only ordinary wolves. The four parted, two heading to one pack and the other two to the other. None would admit it, but the words hung heavy on their hearts for nights to come. The leader will lead, not only you four, but the new world as well. That wolf will become known as the chieftain after the war. He or she will reset order, deal out punishments, and declare the new packs and the new alphas. The Dauntless, is the brawn of the operation. This wolf is the strongest of you four and will be the lead warrior in any battle that comes your way, because, as we all know…this will not be an easy trek to peace. The Negotiator, or the peacemaking brains of the operation. It is up to this wolf to try and talk some sense into the wolves of each pack. Warn them, tell them that if peace does not come death for all will. This wolf, though they may seem unimportant is VERY vital. This wolf will not only calm the packs but he or she will bring the four of you together. The Negotiator has a kind heart, a happy attitude, and will always bring happiness in suit of wherever he or she goes. This wolf is the sticky sap used to hold you together. And finally, the healer. But, aha! Not only is this wolf trained in healing cuts and bruises, this loveless medicine wolf will heal the rivalry, while they search for their love, though it is forbidden. This wolf will mend the broken bones and spirits of everything that is to come. There will be heartbreak, betrayal, death, and much more that will take its toll on the wolves. The question is…Who Will Support The Right Cause? And Who Will Die? All That Is Up To You Four, You Must Fix It All.

This message was sent to those wolves millennia ago, now the packs' alliance is shaking…shifting even. The Nekrá and the Anésti are both forgetting the ways the world was. Dark and chaotic with death around every bend. No one remembers those days any longer and the wolves that saved them? Long gone and long forgotten. Both alphas are head strong and want more land. The wolves slip over borders daily, stealing prey and causing conflict. This went on for a while, a long while indeed, but…the prey started dropping and the day grew warmer and the rivers, streams, ponds, and lakes grew smaller. Now, with the oncoming drought the wolves are even snappier and angrier. Blood is spilled at nearly every watering hole over drinking water, the boundaries remain still, but the Anésti, always having had better prey, land, and water are currently better off than the dark, ruthless, Nekrá. Both packs suffer, both packs break laws, but it takes only four wolves to fix a world, and everywolf knows history repeats itself.

Contact

Tumblr: sparklebix666-blog

Email: rpmenot@outlook.com

Discord: sink.tink#2325

Other: I would LOVE to make a rp group on discord if anyone would be interested in one for any of my plots or prompts!

[hey-there-opening-blog]

Somewhere Between Sorrow and Bliss

Prompto x OC (Altair) 

SFW, Agnst

Word Count: 1.9k

Based on the fluffy prompt: “Hey are you awake?” ... Then it didn’t want to be fluff.

"Hey, are you still awake?"

Altair shifted in the oversized plush chair, pulling the large and stiff blanket around her. That's a ridiculous question. She thought to herself. Her twin would be asleep by now. Six, he had probably been asleep for at least an hour by this point. Prompto should know that too. And why was he asking so loudly? He was right next to Noctis, was it really necessary to speak aloud at all? Really, he could just nudge...

"Altair?" Prompto's voice rang out again, a little softer this time. The brunette shifted in her seat, turning away from the window and looking towards the first of the two beds. Prompto was on the edge, already having pushed himself into a seated position against the headboard. He gave her a gentle smile as he got her attention. "Hey." He greeted. "Is the chair less comfortable that you thought?" The blonde teased. It was harmless, really. By this point in their journey, it was known that Altair took issue with the rooming situation. Every day she would plead her case for her own room, Ignis would deem it unnecessary, and Altair would end up sharing a bed with Prompto and her brother.

Today was different. 

Today a grim haze had fallen over their party. It had been so long since things had gone right, and today was no exception. It was beginning to wear on everyone. Even so, today had been especially difficult. No words had been said when they entered the motel room for the night. Everyone began their own preparation for bed, and Altair had taken a blanket to the chair by the window and sat watching the night sky.

"It's not too bad." Altair replied. It was less comfortable than a bed would be, but the space it was granting her was worth it. 

"That's good I guess." Prompto watched Altair's face carefully. Something was up, but it wasn't his place to force her to talk about anything she wasn't ready to. "I almost feel there's too much room. It's weird not worrying about falling off of the side." Altair cocked her eyebrow in his direction, and Prompto laughed. "I mean, you're welcome back if you want, but..." Prompto shrugged, making a show of cozying up in the sheets. "I'm quite comfortable." Altair was silent for a moment.

"Good night, Prompto." 

"Wait!" Prompto sat up again, and Altair shushed him. "Sorry." Prompto apologized, lowering his voice once more. "I just can't sleep. Sometimes talking helps, you know?" Altair considered it for a moment.

"Fine." She shifted in her seat, getting more comfortable. "What's on your mind?" 

Prompto shrugged. He should have expected the conversation to be turned on him. Altair had never been one for small talk. "I dunno. Nothing in particular." Prompto wiggled his feet under the blanket, watching the fabric ripple for a moment. Then he had an idea, and his face lit up. "I know! Tell me something random about yourself." Altair gave his a strange look, and he realized how strange the question may have sounded. "I just mean... Well, technically we've known each other a long time. But, I never really get to talk to just you."

"I tried to talk to you once in elementary school. I thought your camera was cool, and I asked you what you liked to take pictures of. You kind of sputtered and then walked away." Prompto's freckled cheeks went red at the memory, and he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yeah... I was pretty shy and wasn't used to girls wanting to talk to me. And you were a princess! Not like a pretty girl, but like a real princess."

"Thanks Prompto." Altair's voice was deadpan, and Prompto's eyes went wide.

"Not like that, just that-" Altair waved him off.

"I know, I know. But you weren't bothered talking to Noctis in high school."

"That was just a little bit different." He had been on a mission for Luna. Of course, that memory was bittersweet. He would never get the chance to meet the person who helped him get his one and only friend now. "Though you never made an effort to hang out with us. We invited you." Altair shrugged.

"It was important that Noctis had a life of his own. I mean, we shared everything. I thought it would be good for him to have something without me in it. He was to be a king someday, and he would need to stand on his own two feet without me." Prompto frowned.

"That doesn't mean you couldn't go to the movies with us or something." Altair shrugged.

"I mean, I've gotten to know you some now, haven't I?" Altair pointed out. Prompto smiled.

"That's true." Prompto agreed. If he were honest, that was his favorite thing about this whole trip. He'd always thought that Altair was cute. Ever since the first days of elementary school when she would come to class standing tall and proud while her brother held onto the back of her shirt. She used to wear this bright blue bow in her hair that matched her eyes, and he supposed that was the reason it was his favorite color. Even so, Prompto found himself too shy to say much of anything to her. When Prompto became good friends with Noctis he saw her around more, but she was always making excuses to be somewhere else. He would catch glimpses of her. When he went to visit Noctis at their shared apartment sometimes he'd find her on the couch buried in some video game, or maybe chasing her pet chincilla around the house. Still, she worked to keep her distance.

This trip allowed him to talk to her, to truly get to know her on the inside. That's when he really started to fall for her. The way she hummed to herself as she helped to clean up the campsite was mesmerizing. He adored the way she got so passionate whenever the conversation drifted to topics close to her heart. Prompto smiled, fondly remembering a time in the car where Gladio had made the mistake of calling her favorite character in a book they had both read bland. Prompto was unfamiliar with the story and had no room to weigh in, but the ferocity with which Altair defended her claim was exciting. She expected the best of herself and of the others. Despite her particular nature, she was always lifting others up instead of putting them down. It's the little things sometimes that mean the most. 

"I mean, it's not like it matters anymore anyway. He didn't need to be independent. He's never going to be king." Prompto blinked, falling silent as he was ripped away from his own thoughts. Altair continued. "He's going to die. He's going to sacrifice himself to save us, to save everyone, to save this six forsaken world which doesn't even deserve it." There it was. The thing they had all be avoiding saying. There was a massive dualhorn in the room, and Altair had just kicked it in the gut. "It's not fair." Altair insisted, pain dripping in her voice. "He was meant to rule, to lead the kingdom of Lucis into prosperity and be content. He was going to be good at it." 

"I was supposed to be free to live my life freely and make my own decisions. I can't rule." Altair was shaking now. She was always cocksure and the slighest bit arrogant. The feeling of doubt was new and weighed heavily on her already weary soul. "I make mistakes. Good leaders know who they are and I don't know yet." She insisted, desperation seeping through. "I just... I was so set on making sure Noctis was prepared and ready and was happy because I was going to have time to figure it out and now... And now I have to figure it out now. And figure it out by myself. Without my brother, my twin, my best friend..." Altair's voice cracked. "The six can all rot. I hope the old Lucian kings burn in agony for eternity because it just isn't fair." 

"Hey." Altair's head shot up, startled by the new closeness of the voice. Prompto was standing beside her, concern painted on his face. "Move over some." Altair shook her head in protest, tears beginning to stream down her face. 

"No. I'm fine I just..." Prompto slipped into the chair beside her regardless, pulling her shaking form close to his. For a moment Altair resisted, trying to pull away before a sob racked her body and she relented, pressing her face into the blonde boys torso. Prompto held her as she cried, keeping his own tears at bay for the time being. He rubbed her back gently, resting his head on top of hers. His shirt was growing damp as the tears began to leak through, but Prompto was unbothered. They sat like that for a while, and when the tears slowed Altair pulled her face away and looked up at her travelling companion. Prompto brought his hand to her cheek, using his thumb to gently brush away a stray tear. 

"You're not alone, you know." He assured. Altair opened her mouth to protest, and it broke Prompto's heart. He couldn't bear to watch her suffer, to hear her speak any more doubt. He could have just brought his finger to her lips, and perhaps he should have.

Instead he kissed her. 

Prompto was almost more caught off guard when she kissed him back. Prompto had never kissed anyone before, and Altair stepped up to take the lead. It was quick and deliberate, both of them moving rather clumsily against one another. Prompto was the first to pull away. His heart thudded in his chest as he looked over Altair's face, still puffy from tears. Guilt weighed heavy in his chest. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Maybe we shouldn't have." Altair interrupted quickly, looking to the side. "It wasn't just you. I shouldn't have... At least not right now." Prompto's heart sank, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

"I just want you to know that you're not alone. You aren't going through this by yourself. I don't know what Gladio and Ignis have planned, but I won't leave you alone. As long as you need me here, I'll stay." Prompto ran his thumb against Altair's cheek, marvelling at how soft the pale skin felt under his touch. He knew it was wrong to kiss her right then, but he hoped he hadn't ruined any chance for the future.

Altair looked up at Prompto, letting their eyes meet. "I..." Altair paused. She was always so careful with her words, and chose them with deliberate precision. For the first time, she found herself lacking the ones she wanted to say. "Umm..." Altair bit her lip, taking Prompto's hand from her face and placing a delicate kiss on his palm. "Everything is falling apart around us and you're still so..." She looked up at him, searching for the word. "Not only so optimistic, but so selfless. There's no reason for you to look after me, and yet..." Altair laughed in spite of herself, in spite of everything that had happened since they left Insomnia. "Prompto..." She whispered. "Don't ever change."

Promtpo blushed, still reeling from the second touch of her lips against his skin. The praise went straight to his heart, and he found himself smiling. "You should never change either. I think you're perfect the way you are, and you can handle anything that comes your way."

Altair felt herself blush, nodding before resting her head against Prompto's chest once more. His fingers ran themselves through her hair, and Altair let herself relax into the touch. "Stay just a little bit longer?"

"I'll stay as long as you need."

[desperatelyseekingroleplay]

Seeking Literate Partners

Introduction Hello there, my name is Serenity, but feel free to call me Ren. Okay, so here are the basics and all that, no fun but very much so needed. I am a female in the central time zone and I am 18. I am currently a student but even so I'm on and reply daily (if I won't be able to I will tell you ahead of time I promise). I have been writing for about six years and over time I have come to prefer literate partners, I'm able to write maybe up to six or seven paragraphs, I ask for one minimum and unless I have an exceptional muse I match length because that's likely what I can only go off of. Now, I understand sometimes posts will be shorter, just MOSTLY I want one paragraph minimum. I strongly prefer MxF couplings, but I am open to try MxM and FxF, I promise I won't be any good at it and I'll be shy about it at first but hopefully I'll come around, I need to broaden my horizons anyway. I like my smut when I'm in the mood so I ask that my partner is also 18+, thank you. I absolutely love to double up, doubling adds more options and variety to an rp as far as I'm concerned. I am able to play up to four major characters no problem and still add in side characters, though if I'm doing that much I promise I expect the same from you. I'm perfectly fine with playing male or female, but if we're doing more than one character each I don't want to play ONLY the males. I like using POC in my roleplays just as much as the stereotypical beautiful blonde, I like a little variety. When it comes to fandoms I only ever do OC's in the fandom world, personal preference. Fandoms - Maximum Ride - Shadowhunters/The Mortal Instruments - Percy Jackson (Anything I freaking love this man) - Wolves of the Beyond - Warriors - Guardians of Ga'Hoole - Hunger Games Interests - Romance in general - Fantasy - Boarding School - Pregnancy - Realistic Wolf Pack - Medieval Kingdom - Furry - Brothel - Vampires, Werewolves, anything really - Arranged Marriage Iffy But Open To - Incest - Animal play? - Age play Limits - Scat - Watersports Pet Peeves - Bad Grammar (Like just competently blatantly horrible, a little comma missing or something is fine but do not rp with me like "r u sure?" unless it's a text a character is sending) My Prompts: Inquire for more. Tearmunn: A beautiful, large, and magical kingdom known as Tearmunn is nestled along the coastline of the sea of Tamron. This amazing kingdom is led by tyrannical King Johnathon O'Dair. The king is very conservative and does not approve of all the supernaturals in his kingdom. He wants them all gone, even going through the trouble to send guards out to murder them. Little does the evil king know his son and daughter, Ansel and Arabella, are both not human. His late wife, Queen Isadora, was a wolf shifter. She passed only a few years ago, the death took a great toll on the young Prince and Princess. The King issued a period of mourning for the entire kingdom, which in that time is when the young royals started to go against their father. The duo loved their father, that was undeniable, but they both hated how he ruled. They knew something had to be done about it. Ansel and Arabella started harbouring 'Undesireables' on their private island of Theo first and soon after began helping them out by finding jobs and homes for them on the mainland. The young royals have continued to help the 'Undesireables' in their land and now Tearmunn is even more rich than it was before, although the king still wants them gone. Lately, more and more 'Undesireables' have been coming up dead or missing. The very beings Ansel and Arabella invited, promising safety, were now dying off. What are they to do? It's not only their father now, there is something worse…something darker out there at work. How will they ever find out? Will it be too late? Come join us all in the amazing, magical land of Tearmunn and find out for yourself. Into the Wild: As a pampered, city dog could you survive out in the wild? Could you find your own food, keep yourself warm without the comfortable heat of a home, remain alive in the forest? Could you live peacefully alongside the wolves you’ve heard so many terrifying things about? With recent changes you've been forced to do just those things. Will you remain a stray or will you join this dog pack that has risen? The choice is yours, Into the Wild you go. Wild, fierce, and cunning. You as a wolf have lived in this forest and with this pack since your birth. You're loyal to your pack and defend it with your life if necessary. With the new threat to your prey the dogs are how will you be towards them? Most wolves in the pack hate the dogs, but do you? The choice is yours, but remember to keep your head low and never disobey the alpha. This is WAR: In the forest of Oudéteros the two packs Nekrá and Anésti have resided beside one another at an uneasy peace for many, many moons. The territories were not always peaceful, though. Generations back the two had war, blood was spilled, relentless murders for no reason, all this and more, but, one small group of wolves came along and decided constant battle and war were not the answers. The group of four, two from each pack of varying ranks, received a message from the alphas of the past, the message was carved in a slab of stone and it read:  You four, the Healer, the Negotiator, the Dauntless, and the Leader. It will be you four to end this war. The war must end for if not, all of wolf kind in the amazing land will cease to exist. Of course the four wolves found this insane, not only were they paired with enemies, but how would THEY end the war? They were only ordinary wolves. The four parted, two heading to one pack and the other two to the other. None would admit it, but the words hung heavy on their hearts for nights to come. The leader will lead, not only you four, but the new world as well. That wolf will become known as the chieftain after the war. He or she will reset order, deal out punishments, and declare the new packs and the new alphas. The Dauntless, is the brawn of the operation. This wolf is the strongest of you four and will be the lead warrior in any battle that comes your way, because, as we all know…this will not be an easy trek to peace. The Negotiator, or the peacemaking brains of the operation. It is up to this wolf to try and talk some sense into the wolves of each pack. Warn them, tell them that if peace does not come death for all will. This wolf, though they may seem unimportant is VERY vital. This wolf will not only calm the packs but he or she will bring the four of you together. The Negotiator has a kind heart, a happy attitude, and will always bring happiness in suit of wherever he or she goes. This wolf is the sticky sap used to hold you together. And finally, the healer. But, aha! Not only is this wolf trained in healing cuts and bruises, this loveless medicine wolf will heal the rivalry, while they search for their love, though it is forbidden. This wolf will mend the broken bones and spirits of everything that is to come. There will be heartbreak, betrayal, death, and much more that will take its toll on the wolves. The question is…Who Will Support The Right Cause? And Who Will Die? All That Is Up To You Four, You Must Fix It All. This message was sent to those wolves millennia ago, now the packs' alliance is shaking…shifting even. The Nekrá and the Anésti are both forgetting the ways the world was. Dark and chaotic with death around every bend. No one remembers those days any longer and the wolves that saved them? Long gone and long forgotten. Both alphas are head strong and want more land. The wolves slip over borders daily, stealing prey and causing conflict. This went on for a while, a long while indeed, but…the prey started dropping and the day grew warmer and the rivers, streams, ponds, and lakes grew smaller. Now, with the oncoming drought the wolves are even snappier and angrier. Blood is spilled at nearly every watering hole over drinking water, the boundaries remain still, but the Anésti, always having had better prey, land, and water are currently better off than the dark, ruthless, Nekrá. Both packs suffer, both packs break laws, but it takes only four wolves to fix a world, and everywolf knows history repeats itself. Contact Tumblr: sparklebix666-blog Email: rpmenot@outlook.com Discord: sink.tink#2325 Other: I would LOVE to make a rp group on discord if anyone would be interested in one for any of my plots or prompts!