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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 5 months

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A little wicked (Dark! Aemond x reader/rhaenyras daughter) really dark aemond. 18+ MDNI

Aemond x reader x Aegon

Tags: Showsetting, au MAJOR SEASON 2 SPOILERS

🔷Summary: After your husband dies, his brother claims his throne and also you.

🔷Author's note: Dark. I don't throw that label around lightly. you know the drill, dead dove? do not eat.

🔷Wordcount :4939

🔷Warnings: Smut, p in v, mention of loss of virginty, dubcon loss, death, misgony, misogny- aemond hates rhaerhae. Dark aemond, gore, blood.

You await your husband’s arrival, back from the battlefield. Today is the Battle of Rook’s rest. A battle that would go down in the History books of Westeros, Essos, all realms that ever were or will be. Unaware to you, of course. You are miles away from the battlefield, preparing for the return of your beloved husband, King Aegon II Targaryen.

You have prayed, for the first time in years, actually. Your mother didn’t believe much in prayer, more in action. You think her relationship with Alicent Hightower forever caused a deep religious wound. Religion is something that reminds your mother too much of her lost friend. So therefore, it wasn’t important in your upbringing.

Soon, you’ll be crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and finally take your rightful place beside Aegon. You have the foolish hope that you, as Rhaenyra's daughter, maybe can mend the wound. Maybe your mother can be swayed to bend the knee, to give up her claim to the throne. If only it was that simple.

You await news. Any news. At first you are positive that Aegon has made it back unaltered. He has to. He is the king, the fierce warrior you know and while he is nowhere as good as Aemond, he has more experience than those Rook Rest soldiers. It has to be enough. He has to be enough.

However, as minutes turn into hours, and the sun and the moon dance and circle one another in the sky, you become immensely worried about the fate of your loved one. You are thankful for when the doors of the throne room are pushed open and Prince Aemond enters, at long last.

Recently, the young Prince switched from dark black leather to green dark leather, to fully show his support for his family. You remind yourself you are a hostage to these people, stolen. The corners of the prince’s lips lift mere inches, as if smiling. Yet he quickly brushes that away, as if he cannot be seen that way.

Cole follows, his face sorrowful and full of pain. The sort of pain you see on a father’s face when he loses a son. You feel your smile die as the world seems to slow down, to fade, and to darken instantly. Cole steps forward.

Aemond walks to you. Your feet rush, but your legs are frozen, causing you to stumble and to almost fall flat on your face. Aemond pretends to walk to you, but instead walks past you, to the big Iron throne that looms over you as a dark curse.

You watch in silence as he sits down, confirming your worst fears. You hear yourself gulp, as tears stream down your face. Your Aegon is no longer alive. King Aemond now sits the throne, and he sits it as if it took him too long to begin with. He smiles down at you, mocking and almost patronizing. Cole speaks, as first. ‘’All hail his grace, King Aemond of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the Andels, and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms, and protector of the realm!’’ The words hit you like blows.

Aemond lifts his chin as all soldiers around you and all knights, servants, everyone with working legs falls down to their knees, respecting and vowing loyalty to their new monarch. Everyone but you, that is. Aemond waits quite a while before he tells everyone to raise again. Likely enjoying everyone on their knees for him, and him alone. As a cat toying with a mouse.

After that the servants are rounded up, to be informed of the King’s fate. ‘’My dear people. It is with great sadness and immense pride, that I announce the death of my brother, King Aegon II. He shall be known to history as King Aegon the Brave, for he slew the traitor Princess Rhaenys. Had it not been for her treasonous acts on battlefield, our king would be alive today.’’ He waits a moment as gasps and relieved words cross the hall. ‘’It is with great pride that I shall now serve you as King, until my younger nephew, Prince Maelor comes of age. You may all now either bend the knee, or remain standing.’’ He gestures to the guards, and on his sign, they all draw their swords. A clear choice.

You watch as the one after the other servant drops to their knees, swearing loyalty to the newly crowned King. After that is done they are all dismissed. ‘’Y/n. Please stay here.’’ The use of just your name makes your hair stand up. It is intimate, almost familiar.

You freeze.

Aemond finally rises from the throne, a smile on his lips. You wait and remain where you are. He does not beckon you closer, so you remain there. He walks closer to you until he is in front of you. He looks at your gown, taking in the details of the bodice. ‘’My condolences on the loss of your husband.’’ He whispers, gently.

You blink back tears. ‘’Can I go home now? We must write to my mother that the war is over. She can come collect her throne.’’ You look over to the ugly iron thing. Aemond chuckles, adoring your naivety and your good righteous heart.

He even reaches out to touch your face, gently caressing it and wiping away a few tears with his thumb. He brings his thumb to his mouth, sucking on it, tasting your tears. You watch, speechless. He grins. ‘’My gentle hearted sweet girl.’’ It sounds like a compliment and also an insult. ‘’I have no intention to stop the war. Your mother will sit on that throne when your brother Lucerys finds his head again. You will leave her in a coffin or when I am dead.’’ You scoff, insulted and step away, ready to leave.

He grabs you firmly by your arms, dragging you closer. You are pinned against his front, where you can still see blood on his shirt. His smirk only grows as you lower your head, avoiding his eye. He lifts your chin, forcing you to look up to him as you silently cry. ‘’I haven’t lost, you see. I have the crown, the throne, and you.’’ He does the unspeakable and leans in for a kiss, leaving a soft peck on your lips. He moans softly against your lips. ‘’My darling, my sweet precious thing.’’ He murmurs.

You give him a weak push against his chest, barely moving him. But it gets the message across. Aegon is not even cold yet. “I’m your brother’s widow!’’ You yell in righteous fury.

He laughs at that, capturing you easily with your hands again, and you hate yourself that you like how warm and fast his hands act. ‘’That means nothing in our family. You are my captive, Lady Strong. Remember? From the moment I first captured you at Storm’s end, until your very last. You are meant to be mine, so you will be.’’ He promises you. He is calm and collected about it as if is stating a fact.

He reminds you of the day when this all started. You don’t want to think back of that day. You tell yourself it is because of Luc, who Aemond fed to his dragon. But it is because of Aegon. You miss Luc, of course, but that wound had time to heal. Aegon’s loss is so sudden and just as painful, but fresh. ‘’I am not yours, you monster!’’ You raise your hand, striking Aemond on his scarred cheek.

He finally acts, grabbing your hands tighter and dragging you close until your noses touch. He is trembling with fury and his one eye is full of hatred, lust, obsession and cold blooded plans. ‘’Striking your king, is a act of treason.’’ He chuckles. ‘’I am allowed to punish you. I could take your hand for this, little lady strong.’’ You huff.

You roll your eyes even. Aemond hates the silent treatment more than any insult you could have hurled at him. Instead of making it clear what he intends, he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder, marching you back to the empty throne. You kick and slap his back, trying to break free of his iron grip. He places you in the hands of a nearby guard, who all have been silent on this treatment of their rightful princess. Aemond sits on the iron throne and what he does next shocks you.

He grabs you by your hips, bending you over both his knees, as if you don’t weigh anything. He pets your hair lovingly and even gives your shaking body a kiss. ‘’I do this because I love you. You are in luck. You will always be able to defy me.’’ He whispers. ‘’All men who do so will meet horrible ends that Maesters will write about for centuries, but you, my special girl, you will be able to defy, rebel and upset me.’’ He whispers. ‘’Because I enjoy punishing you. And I bet you enjoy being punished.’’ You feel his hands on your butt, as he starts finding the beginning of your gown. You hear the sound of fabric ripping, and panic, bolting on his lap. He simply holds you down tighter, smirking as you begin to whimper. He calmly hums and with one brutal movement, rips your skirts. You remain on his lap, vulnerable and in your small clothes. Aemond sits up straighter, as if he wants to fully take in this view. Embarrassed, you lower your head in his lap, allowing him to caress your hair once more. ‘’Such a beautiful girl. You were wasted on my brother.’’ He speaks. ‘’You belong with me. You always have.’’ He then turns to his guards. ‘’Leave me and the Princess. She will pledge her loyalty to me in a private event.’’ You whimper as you hear iron footsteps leave the room.

When he is alone with you, he pulls your small clothes down fully, yanking them until your ankles, exposing you for all you are. It seems to awaken a certain hunger or desire in him, and he rips your corset and sleeves next. He fully admires your naked body, panting as he looks at you. He seems to calm down and finally he does what he promised. He hits you on your ass, spanking it harshly. You hiss in pain, in disbelief that he is subjecting you to this. ‘’Aemond, stop this.’’ You beg.

‘’You have no right.’’

He scoffs. ‘’I have every right. I am the King now. You were naughty, today. I don’t like naughty girls. Well, not as much as I like a good girl.’’ He says, talking to you as if you are a stupid little girl. Fresh tears fall. ‘’I like naughty good girls, who know what they want. But you aren’t there yet. You aren’t broken enough yet.’’ He says, joyfully as he spanks you. You give soft whimpers.

The spankings only become harsh when you remain silent, so you fake moans and whimpers to please Aemond’s dark desires. He sometimes groans too, as he sees how much damage your body is taking thanks to him, and how you take it.

“Aegon told me something before he died. He told me he never consummated the marriage. Is that true?” You wonder why Aegon told him that.

But it is the truth. You nod. “He knew when we first were forced to lay together I didn't want it.”

Aemond only chuckles to that comment, dealing another hurtful smack, almost as if to punish you for still loving his brother. “He raped plenty of women. I suppose you weren't special enough to make the effort.”

“Aegon loved me.” You argue, and you regret it the moment you’ve said it. Because Aemond slaps so hard that your flesh burns.

He groans now not of arousal but of pure hatred. “He didn't.”

“There's one man for you in this entire world.” You huff at his words.

You are grabbed by the throat, lifted from his lap and forced to stand as he chokes you. You are choked, tears stinging your eyes as he looks at you with the crown slightly slipping from his hairs and his one eye bigger than usual, focused on you, the object of his obsession. You fight for control but lose the fight. “It is me.” He reveals.

“No,’ You croak out weakly. “I can't. You killed my brother-”

He sighs, almost enjoying the view. His cold fingers finger one of your nipples, enjoying the reaction your body gives by hardening for him. He chuckles. “Such a beauty. Now. Defy me again.” You shake your head. He sighs, putting you over his knee again. You whimper against the cruel treatment, feeling the spot he struck. Aemond smirks, challenging you to speak out again. “I ought to keep you around like this. Just as the gods intended you to be. Pure, naked, unspoiled…” He feels the skin he struck. And you feel yourself clench your cunt, ignoring the waterfall he caused down there with all cost. It is true, Aemond is a handsome man. But this is wrong, isn’t it?

“May I please dress?” You ask, wiggling on his lap, enjoying when his thigh briefly rubs your cunt. That hits the spot.

The King laughs. “Such an obedient girl for asking me first.”

“The answer is no, however. You struck me, remember? That is treason.” You are embarrassed to speak. He laughs at that, rubbing your legs, drawing circles and kissing your skin. You ignore the butterflies. You can’t.

‘’Stand.’’ He barks suddenly. You obey, standing on your shaking legs, exposing yourself now fully to him. He leans back in the throne, grinning brightly as he takes in your body, toe to head. ‘’You can defy me as many times as you like. I will gladly put you on my lap and spank you.’’ He whispers. ‘’But if you say something regarding the whore that mothered you, I’m afraid we must do a different type of punishment. Am I clear?’’ You nod, hating how frightened you are.

He softens his face. He beckons you closer. You come closer until you stand in front of throne, your cunt barely touching the iron. ‘’I wish to feel your wares. I must see myself, If you and Aegon kept your word.’’ Without a warning, his fingers sink inside your wetness, inspecting you as you stand on your legs, almost falling over.

‘’Please, make me sit.’’ You beg.

He grins, forcing his finger to go deeper, penetrating you at the right speed. “No, you'll stand, tall and proud. I bet this is just what a dirty bastard like yourself likes. ‘’ It takes a while but sadly, he discovers what is happening. ‘’Oh, just as I suspected. A wet, warm and wonderful little place for my seed to crawl inside of.” You wail at those words, aroused as he fucks slowly, taunting you with his fingers.

“Stop talking as if we are going to -” Your talking is interrupted by a smack on your cunt by his free haunt, causing you to cry out in pain and anticipation.

He glares at you, shaking you as if you aren’t awake yet.

“As if? You think I'd kept you as a pretty cup bearer or something? I plan to make good use of you. Every hole is stuffed, until you can't even crawl forward.” He promises.

“What if I will have a child?” you whisper. ‘’That would complicate your status.’’

He sees that differently, mad with lust and obsession.

“That is part of the fantasy. Breeding you makes me happy. Seeing your belly swell makes me happy. You know why?” He asks, softly patting your belly. You shake your head.

“No.”

He leans in, gesturing vaguely down to his legs.

“It proves my seed is strong, powerful and well. It proves I have the power to make you, a stunning powerful princess to a good for nothing whore, carrying a bastard inside of her womb.” You sniffle, hurt and insulted. “Judging your wet and warm cunt, you have been thinking about me too. Why don't you admit that you want this?”

“Because I loved him. I loved Aegon. That means something to me.”

Aemond growls. “Shame he didn't love you. You know it deep down. He didn't mention you at all when he died-” You push him off you, taking off to the doors, not caring he ripped your gown or your poking breasts begging for touch.

“Where do you think you'll be going?” He demands, his voice booming.

You raise your head as much as a princess and dignity as you can. “To my quarters until you decide to trade me for peace.”

“Peace?” He laughs. Then that laugh dies. “Peace!’ It scares you how quickly it became an almost command. “You have exactly 3 seconds to get over here and to kneel at my feet and to beg me for forgiveness-” You don’t let him finish and take off running. But he is faster.

He simply drags you back by your hair, giving your behind hurtful smacks as he drags you to the throne. ‘’Ungrateful bastard. I can make you my queen.’’ He growls. ‘’Why won’t you accept that you want this? Look how wet you are for me.’’ He thinks as you remain at his feet, sitting there as a dog. ‘’I know something. We must train you, to ensure you are a proper pet.’’ He grins. One of the servants is allowed in, to bring Aemond a piece of rope.

You are worried he is going to tie your hands. But his plans are far worse. He ties the end around your neck, and holds it, as a leash. “Such a stubborn girl.” He chuckles. ‘’Now if you try to run, you’ll feel it.’’

“Please untie my neck.” You whisper, softly.

“Why? You can't behave, clearly. I must make the rules clear somehow.”

He has gone insane.

“Untie my neck, I'm worried I'll choke.”

“You know, when the right person is doing it, choking, taking control of another person's breath, nay, life, can feel…amazing.”

In response you spit at him.

“Spitting at me, you are a vile dirty minded thing, are you not? I bet you just ache for someone to pin you down against the floor and to have his wicked way with you. Don't you, bastard?” He growls, handling you.

“I want Aegon…” You whisper, half a beg and half a prayer.

He almost slams your head against the throne in pure rage. You can tell he is close to losing it. “Why? Why do you want that disgusting raper. You have me. You have all you will ever need.” He says. Then he sniffs your breasts, his long nose and hair disappearing between your breasts. “Fuck, you smell so good. So inviting. I can smell that needy cunny of yours.”

He stands up, keeping the leash in his dominate hand. ‘’I bet if I took my cock out you’d be fucking it before I could even ask you to.’’ He grins. ‘’You are your mother’s daughter after all.’’ To prove his point he lowers his trousers, revealing his manhood to you.

You are caught off guard. You never saw one before and it looks so strange yet familiar. “Look down.” He pushes your head down so you can properly.

It is red and swollen and evil in all ways. You try to glance at Aemond but your eyes are almost glued to his manhood. He snickers amused at your virginal response. “You'd like to feel this down your legs, little bastard?” He asks, and you are shocked when his fingers find your entrance once more, and now your soaked little cunt can’t even handle this. You moan, crying of shame and desire.

Aemond grins, taking it as a sign of encouragement.

“Get on your knees.” you obey, eying his cock. You wonder if it’ll hurt. But part of you wants to just feel good and happy for a moment. “On all fours.” He adds, groaning in frustration.

“What is expected of me?” You whisper soft as you kneel for him in the throne room. Aemond finally leaves his throne, so he may join you.

Silence. “I can't…I'm a princess. My virtue is everything to me-”

He laughs. “I can't wait to fuck you, so you for once and for all will shut up about your prestige and your privileges. You will learn, my sweet that I decide what your worth is now. Now, I am going to ask.”

You shake as his fingers brutally Bury themselves in your untouched tight cunt. “Do you want me to be the bad man today, little Maella? Do you wish to get your cunny raided by me, here, in the throne room, on your knees, as a little dirty harlot?’ You fall to your knees, crying out as the penetrating reaches a hight, as does your pleasure. You touched yourself but never like this. Not like he does. And his dirty naughty talk..

“Do you want to feel my cock take root and to feel me penetrate away at your innocent soft rings as they wrap and tighten around my cock as I take you on the stones, your knees bloody and your vision blurry as I bring you close?’

“Do you want that?”

You begin to doubt and he knows it. So he softens his voice, for show. “It can feel so good, Maella. You know I've won. You know it. You are already naked. You are already kneeling. All I need to do is put my cock……” He parts your legs. He rubs your needy cunt causing friction as you frustrated cry out. “here…’’

You nod pleasure winning. ‘Yes.’’ You say, consenting at last. He does not need long. He drags his finger nails in your hips, bringing you closer to his front. He sits on both his knees, as he slams inside of you, fucking you with a brutal war cry. You gasp as the cock pierces through your maidenhood, ruining you for any other man. Aemond groans in delight at your gasps, fucking you harder for every bit of sound you make.

“Oh, you're deep…” you mutter, a bit foolish.

He chuckles. “You'll handle me just fine. Any woman is a bit as a frightened stag, wishing to bolt off when a man climbs her. It is his task to smooth her back into submission so the ride may be…pleasant.” You wonder if he enjoys it the way you do. But when you hear his grunts and moans you know he does.

“Just as much of a slut as your mother.” He whispers and quickly gives you a kiss to avoid your anger. “Taking it all so well. You're a natural love.”

The fucking reaches a height your innocent body cannot handle, as Aemond comes closer to, and the fucking becomes violent, with him choking you as well now. “Meant and made to be on your knees, cock deep inside of your cunt and getting fucked until you can't crawl out of your bed tomorrow.” You gasp, your cries and soft moans filling the throne room, high on pleasure. “Agree.” He hisses, suddenly. For someone who claims not the care about others, he sure seeks a lot of approval.

You know you must obey. You know it deep down. So you swallow your pride. “Y-yes Aemond.” You say, obediently.

He spits at that idea. “You will call me King Aemond or your Grace.’’ He smacks your ass, sinking a finger deep there too. You buck your hips to him, eager for more.

You need to feel good, more than anything, you need to feel alive. ‘’Aemond, your grace, please..”

That pleases him greatly. “So fast, little girl? This is just the tip of the mountain, dear. There is so much more for you left.” He promises, planting dark desires in your head.

“There is?”

He nods. “Hmm,” He smacks your butt in a playful manner. “This is fun, but this is not the way a baby is made. I must stuff you properly for that. And there's your face…” You turn to face him, cock slightly sliding out of you in the process.

“What of it?” You ask, worried there is something stuck between your teeth.

You aren’t prepared for the answer. “It looks so clean. A nice, white and shimmering substance would look amazing on it. Something like my cum?”

“O, I don't know…” you stutter, foolishly.

You do know. But you won’t tell him that. “That is the beauty of your new life. You no longer need to know. I do. I'd love to see your cunt, breasts, belly, cheeks, chin, butt and hole covered in my cum.” He confesses. It is taking so long.

So you buck your hips to his front, hoping he mounts you soon once more. Aemond merely watches, grinning. “Taking me now, aren't we?”

“I do what you want. Just…give me…” You are at the breaking point. You are close.

Aemond slams inside of you, fucking you up and down the tiles as you scream it out in pleasure and he hisses, likely near too. “This?”

You roar in approval as pleasure explodes and you cry out in a soft voice. Aemond can be heard chuckling. “That's it, beauty. You keep being good, and I'll give you that and more.”

“Please, my King…” you whimper. “I can't…I can't handle it anymore. I need to ..I need it now.”

The King laughs, enjoying your suffering and your pleasure.

“Such a demanding little brat, demanding to come before your king.” The Spanking you get now is not punishment. It brings you pleasure and therefor shame. You nearly whimpered at it, but at the same time you enjoyed the smack on your naked ass.

And he bows your head down, and gives you the one after the other hard rough trust that only raises your pleasure. As the fucking increases, your needs reach a height unfamiliar to you and you stop, waiting for it to fade as you usual do when you touch yourself. Aemond sees this as the moment to strike, fully claiming you with a rough war cry and a trust. You fall down from your pleasure and come, all over his red swollen cock as he rides his own orgasm out on your spent body. The King is not happy yet, and fucks your body two more times after you are done with it.

When he is done, he finally removes the rope. You sit up, watching the tiles you fucked upon, sweaty and stained with your blood. Aemond cheekily grins, dressing himself again quickly. You look around for anything to cover yourself with. He throws his leather bloodied coat your way. ‘’Here. Cover. I don’t wish you to catch a cold.’’ He says. You think back of Aegon. And guilt washes over you.

The door is opened and a soldier rushes inside the room. You attempt to cover yourself but it is too late. ‘’My king.’’ He begins but Aemond does not allow him to finish.

‘’You saw my lady naked.’’ He says, instead of listening to his trusted soldier. The soldier blinks.

‘’I,I didn’t!”’ He quickly blurts out. Aemond does not even bother to explain his motivates, you can only watch as he takes his sword and chops of the head of the soldier. Blood and flesh come free as treat and paint painting the Throne room. You are horrified that Aemond murdered a man for looking at you.

You scream in horror. Aemond walks to you next, sword still dripping with blood. He levels the sword at his lips and takes a lick, before kissing your forehead. ‘’He had to die. Only one eye may look at your body. Mine.’’ He says, kissing you again as if it calms you down. It only makes you panic.

He sighs, taking you back to the throne. He makes you sit but this time there’s no spanking. Only sweet kisses and heartbroken mutters. ‘’What can I ever do to compare to Aegon? I want your love, my love. I want you to weep over my dead corpse.’’ He whispers. ‘’I want you when we marry, to become so madly in love with me, that when they find my corpse on the battlefield, you become mad and consumed with grief and you carve off one of my fingers to keep it close to you and you never think of a marrying another. I want you to die from a broken heart.’’ He whispers. ‘’I offer you the world, my love. It is ours. From Westeros to Essos and from the Dothraki grass sea to the useless kingdom of Dorne. It will fall at our feet, crumbled into dust. Thousands will die at our command, and their bones will become your crown and throne. Their blood will be your gown and their flesh will feed our love. Whoever offends you, shall die first. Let me be your King, and you will never need anyone else again.’’ You know you don’t have a choice. Once you cared about innocents. But you don’t have the luxury to care about them anymore. You must survive.

You play along for now.

Be Aemond’s Queen.

His second in command, the mother of his children, his lover and his bedmate.

To him you will be bow…

At least for now.

One of the days soon coming…

You’re going to take that boy’s crown.

//Not even therapy can fix this im afraid.

165 notes · View notes

cryptictongues · 8 months

Text

184 Days

pairing: Clive Rosfield x Flower!Reader Series rating: Mature (angst; tw listed below) word count: 13.6K summary: You have a hard time grieving after Clive's passing, even when you didn't need to grieve at all.

warnings: reader-insert (sorry lol), angst, hurt/comfort, reunions, grief/mourning, slight suicidal ideation, slight self-harm, depression, panic attacks, happy ending (yay!) - this is part of the Flower!Reader series! You don't need to have read the other two but there are references to them if that interests you.

Spoilers: This is post-game stuff. If you haven't played the game, beware.

TW's: This fic contains major themes of grief, so it is heavy. There is minor suicidal ideation and self-harm, not graphic in nature, but it is there. Depression and panic attacks are more common in this fic. If these topics don't sit right with you, please be cautious when reading. You may also reach out if you want to know specifics if you are worried!

Songs: I just want to share that I was constantly listening to When the Sun Hits by Slowdive, Thick Skull by Paramore, and Wicked Games by Chris Isaak.

LASTLY, I am sharing this on my birthday! My birthday gift to you all <3

[AO3 link]

Day 1

The Hideaway is full of people. People from all over Valisthea arrive in droves, coming to grant supplies, donate gil, and help around the Hideaway because today is the day; the day everyone here sends off Dion, Joshua, and Clive for their leave to Origin.

You are working overtime, helping with the final preparations before they take off. The biggest reason, however, for the hard work is the ever creeping anxiety filling your body as the time ticks closer to Clive’s departure; from his friends and family, and from you. This day has been a long time coming, yet now that it’s here you can barely stomach the thought of him leaving. With that thought lingering, every moment together has been even more precious than the next.

Every moment of free time has been spent together. With today being the day of departure, your last moments together were last night. You both made love all night, and in between sessions would talk about what you two will do once he comes back; creating the life of your dreams together. Yet, in the back of your mind, all you could think was those thoughts were just that: dreams. You don’t know what will happen during Clive’s mission. But it’s fun to play pretend, and to envision what life could have in store for the two of you.

The sun was in its golden state before its colors showed, telling you it’s almost time. You see everyone gathering on the main deck, Clive and co included, talking with one another as they say their farewells and safe travels. You start your way there, walking slowly as if it would prevent the inevitable. You know the moment you reach Clive, it would only be a matter of minutes before he is no longer within your grasp.

You see Clive talking to Jill, bringing her in for a tight hug as he continues. You see a shake in her shoulders, telling you she feels the same way you do. Just as hard as it is to wish your lover away, it must be just as hard to watch the man who has become a brother figure leave. They grew up together, after all.

You give a farewell to Prince Dion and Joshua once on the deck, giving Dion a firm handshake and a bow, while Joshua brings you in for a hug. You didn’t know Dion for long, but Joshua is a different story. Getting to know your lover’s brother has brought you closer to the both of them. Seeing how happy Clive was with Joshua around made your heart swell. You wonder if Joshua ever felt the same about you two.

Joshua let’s go of you, a melancholy smile drawn on his face. “Thank you, _____. Thank you for taking care of my brother.”

You shake your head. “No, thank you for finding each other again. I will be praying for the three of you to safely return to us.”

“I appreciate that, my lady.” Joshua thanks, yet his eyes shift, and he nods. “Here he comes.”

You turn to see Clive approaching you, and you already feel your chest growing tight and eyes water. He is standing before you, looking as beautiful as he always has, but with a sorrowful look that says everything you feel. It’s unfair, really. It devastates you that he is the one to stop all the madness, when in a perfect world he would stay. You keep telling yourself this isn’t the end, yet your gut keeps telling you otherwise.

“____.”

“Would it be selfish of me to ask you to stay? To ask to let the world go to hell?”

Clive smiles, solemnly chuckling at your suggestions. “Never.”

You reach for his left hand with both hands, holding it as you rub your thumbs into his palm. “I know it would be futile, all the same.” You utter. “There would be no life worth living for anyone. I just wish things could be different.”

“I am doing this for a better future for everyone. It is what the world deserves.” Clive’s other hand covers your hands in full. “I must do this, so you and I can live the future we’ve always talked about.”

“I wish I could take your place, so I could guarantee your safety.” You choke out, the waterworks starting.

Clive is quick to react, pulling you into him as you sob softly into his chest. “Knowing you will be safe here will be reason enough for me to make it back to you.” Your hands squeeze his sides, his statement making you want to sob harder. Clive pulls back, taking one hand to lift your head to get a good look at you. “I promise I will be back. Wait for me.”

You nod frantically, sniffling as you take deep breaths to calm down. Clive’s forehead leans against yours, his thumb brushing continuous strokes on your cheek, before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. You accept his kiss, giving it your all knowing the outcome is unknown. Both of your lips linger, not wanting to pull away because once one of you does, he will be on his way.

Clive pulls away slightly, his lips still lingering near your own. “I love you, ____.”

“I love you too.” You whisper, placing one more kiss to his lips before pulling away. “I have something for you.”

You reach into the pouch you keep attached to your corset belt and pull out a lily. You thread the stem in between the crease of his corset and tunic, the tightness of his uniform keeping the flower in place. You brush his chest, stalling him a little longer before you accept it is time. “Lily represents reunion. With this flower, you shall come back to me.”

Clive sucks in a breath, releasing with a shutter as if he was on the verge of tears. “I will, no matter what.”

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you turn to see Jill still sniffling with watery eyes. She smiles at you before looking at Clive. “We will take care of each other.”

You feel something rub against your thigh and look to see Torgal rubbing his head on you. You smile, rubbing behind his ears. “Torgal will look out for us too.”

Clive hums, appreciating the sight before him. “This is farewell for now. Till then, we have a god to kill.”

Everyone has now formed a semi-circle around the three dominants about to depart, watching as they walk towards the end of the deck. They pick up their pace, all of them running until they are no longer in sight. A bright light goes off and the next thing everyone sees is Bahamut carrying Clive and Joshua towards an event that will shape the world.

You are sitting on the main deck, legs dangling off the side as you continue to stare off into the horizon. You haven’t left since Clive left, the golden hour long gone and twilight having come and gone, dusk now settling in the sky. It feels like it has been hours since his departure, when in reality it has only been a few. You wonder if they have made it to Origin yet, if the battle has started, if Ultima has been defeated… if they have met their maker for good. That thought makes you shiver.

You hear footsteps coming from behind you before a presence sits right beside you. You don’t look, but the aura alone tells you it’s Jill and you smile slightly. She puts an arm around you, pulling you into her as you both continue to look into the distance, like they would be back any second. She twists your hair, which comforts you in a way, and you hum. It is silent for a while, watching the sky continue to grow darker and darker until the sky is black with its pearls.

“Have you prayed to Metia today?” You break the silence with a question. Jill’s fixation that Metia answers prayers is comforting in these moments, especially when every prayer she has spoken through her heart has come true.

She shakes her head. “I haven’t, but only because I wanted you to join me. Our hearts combined will help, no doubt.”

You nod your head, and you both move into a position that faces Metia herself, kneeling before her with hands clasped together. You bow your head, and say your prayer in your head, letting your heart translate it in a way that only Metia understands. You pray for everyone’s safe return with little to no injury. You pray they come back healthy and happy. You pray for the dawn of a new age where you and Clive help build a world you two can grow old in. You pray for everything to be okay. You raise your head as you finish, and you admit that some weight has been lifted off your chest, but an uneasiness still sticks. You turn your head to see Jill finishing her own prayer, and she looks towards you with her hand reaching for yours. You give her your right hand and she grips it with a smile. “Metia has listened to our prayers. Now, we wait.”

“Jill, your faith that everything will be okay is admirable. I wish I had your confidence.” You confess, the sour feeling remaining deep in your body.

“For the longest time, I thought Clive was long dead. I believed that Metia hadn’t listened. And next thing I know, there he is. Granted, it was years later.” She squeezes your hand, and turns so your knees are touching hers. “That’s why I have faith that they will return to us.”

“Maybe your faith will rub off on me, and not the other way around with my worries.” You chuckle, trying to make light of the night.

“No matter what happens,” Jill reassures, “I will be here for you. We will be here for each other.”

You nod, and bring her in for a hug, squeezing her tightly which she returns. “Thank you, Jill. For everything.”

You both stay there for a minute, until next thing you know you hear running on the deck. You pull away to see Gav running towards you two, panic clear on his face. “Ah fuck,” he breathes in and out as he approaches. “Edda is in labor. All hands on deck.”

You and Jill gasp in unison, both jumping up to run to the infirmary to help bring new life into this world. And hopefully, a new one.

Day 2

“Alright, one more push, Edda.”

You are sitting behind Edda, letting her use your hands for her death grip as she continuously pushes and wails out in pain. You, Jill, and Mid are giving her words of encouragement as she continues her labor, and after one final push Tarja fully delivers the baby. A cry echoes throughout the room and the atmosphere is full of happiness and relief.

“Can I come in yet?” You hear Gav yell from the other side of the door.

“She just gave birth, Gav. Give us a minute.” Tarja yells, eyes rolling hard at Gav’s common sense.

“He’s just excited,” Jill chimes in. “As we all are.”

“Congratulations, Edda! It’s a boy!” Tarja finishes cleaning off the baby, kneeling beside Edda as she passes him off to her. You watch Edda admire her baby boy for the first time, her smile brightening up the room as she talks to him.

Seeing them interact stirs you with an emotion you wish to experience directly. You and Clive have talked about having children, making it clear you two wouldn’t have any until the world has been set straight. But you two would talk about what it would be like to have a little you or a little him running around or both. You imagine cradling a little boy in your arms, giggling as you shower him with kisses. You imagine Clive holding a little girl, swaying her around while singing a melody. Two giggly children to call your own with the man you have fallen madly in love with. You feel as if your heart could burst from the thought.

“_____, can you go up to the rear stacks to grab more towels off the lines?” Mid asks, taking you out of your sappy daydreams. You snap out of it, humming in the affirmative before moving away from Edda and heading to the door. You could barely get out the door before almost being trampled by Gav, running in like a mad man. “Let me see! Let me see!”

You chuckle to yourself, exiting the room and heading to the linen lines. Even when things seem dark, you can’t help but keep smiling at everyone’s high spirits tonight. You suppose new life being brought into the world will do that to people because it sure as hell is doing that for you. It’s a good distraction, and you accept it with open arms.

You grab some towels from the line, cradling them in your arms securely as you make your descent to the main deck and up the stairs to the infirmary. You reach the infirmary doors when you are once again almost hit by a body, except this time it was Jill. One quick look at her made it apparent she was crying. She doesn’t spare you a glance as she runs down the stairs, sobs fading as she goes further down. You turn to the open door, shock clear on your face. “What happened?”

Gav and Mid look at you like they don’t know what to say. You look at Gav, tears streaming down his face, and it’s like everything hits you all at once. Towels drop from your arms, your arms no longer working as your body starts to erupt. “No,” you shudder. “No.” You kept repeating yourself, not quite believing what’s happening. No words spoken, and yet everyone is saying your worst nightmare out loud.

You could see Gav wanted to say something, but before a word could break the glass box you were building around yourself, you ran. You ran right out the door, and ran as fast as you could to Clive’s chambers. You slam the door shut, starting to pace back and forth with your fists yanking your hair. You turn to the balcony doors, and run to them, slamming them wide open before looking out into the distance. You see the moon, as bright and big as ever, yet Metia no longer shines in its vibrancy. You hear a howl and see Torgal and Jill, Jill’s head tilted down as her body continues to shake. Jill’s connection with Metia was enough to tell you that something terrible has happened: Clive is dead.

You back away from the door, utter disbelief and pain seeping into your lungs. He promised. He promised he would return to me. Your mind keeps reeling, and next thing you know you find yourself in Clive’s bed, wrapping yourself in his covers tightly to encapsulate his lingering scent. Sobs devastate your body, almost to the point of not being able to breathe. But you embraced it, for you wish you could stop breathing all together in this moment.

You fall asleep with choked up airways and puffy eyes, dreams full of a future that’s no longer possible. You dream of him and him alone. You fall asleep in the dead of night, missing the sun greet Valisthea into a new era.

Day 5

Clive would’ve thought he was dead if it weren’t for the loud thumping in his head. He slowly comes to, the first thing he sees being light. It takes him a few seconds to adjust, his eyes working overtime against the strain. He feels sand, and hears the sound of waves. He goes to move his fingers when he notices he can’t move the ones on his left hand. He brings his left arm to his view and sees his hand is completely petrified. He couldn’t see the rest of his arm, but could feel the lack of blood and flesh ending right above his elbow. He pushes himself up with his good arm, hunching over in his spot as he breathes the salty air deeply.

Origin. He had defeated Ultima. The crystal in the sky was destroyed and now he finds himself here on this beach. Based on his surroundings, he concludes he is on the coast of Storm, even though the dark coast was no longer dark, but bright. It could have easily been mistaken for a coastline off of Valisthea, but behind him were still the dead brush of the continent.

He wonders how long he’s been out for. He vaguely remembers waking up, but not long enough to recollect anything. He reaches up to his face to touch his facial hair, feeling the scruff that has grown out slightly. A few days, he thinks. It was a mere few days ago when he left the Hideaway with Dion and his brother, and now he is the only one left. It burns him up inside knowing he couldn’t save them, and the fact he watched his brother die not once, but twice weighs heavy on his heart. Especially because if Ultima hadn’t chosen him as his vessel, he most likely would have become the Phoenix and Joshua would be alive and safe. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but alas.

Clive knows it does no good to think this way. Just like he would have done anything to save Joshua, he knows just as well Joshua would’ve done everything to save him. He knew Joshua would want him to help bring Valisthea and Storm into a new age. And most importantly, he knew Joshua wanted him to be happy, and deserved as much. I cannot delve into what was, but what can. And what he can focus on is the future, especially one with you.

Clive suddenly remembers the lily you had given him, and scrambles to retrieve it from his pant pouch with some difficulty due to one available hand. He felt its petals, still smooth and soft, and pulled it out to see it still looked brand new. He lets out a stuttered breath, eyes watering slightly. He almost couldn’t believe that after everything it had managed to stay in one piece, but he knew it was because you had blessed him with it. You had grown it, cared for it, and plucked it for him, and it was his turn to care for it. Just as well, it was time to keep his promise: to come back to you. He has been away for too long, and he must make haste now.

Clive sighs and slowly starts to stand up, gathering his bearings so as to not get too dizzy. He stands still for a moment, breathing in deeply once more to ensure he won’t collapse before assessing his situation. He will need a boat. He thinks he could find a port somewhere, and worse comes to worse he travels to Waloed to get one there. He will need to eat something to gain some semblance of energy to do said travel. The biggest obstacle for him will be his arm, a heavy weight on his body that doesn’t help his fatigue. He will have to find something to make it more manageable until he can get back to the Hideaway.

He starts to walk up the beach towards the woods; body heavy from his wet clothes, stone arm, and tired eyes. But he will move forward, for you are waiting back home for him and his safe return. No matter the cost, he will make it home to you.

“Darling, wait for me. I’m coming home.”

Day 14

It has been two weeks since the end of Origin, and to say you haven’t been grieving well is an understatement. You have a hard time getting out of bed these days, and your motivation to do anything is abysmal. You know your numbness is unsettling to other Hideaway members, many not knowing what to say when they see you. It’s like they saw you change overnight; your happy, go lucky self now tainted with expressionless reactions.

Gav has officially transitioned as the new Cid, but has yet to move into what will be his new room. He only comes in to do some paperwork, and read his latest messages. Oftentimes he will come to you, asking if he can get you anything, and he gets the same response from you every time: a subtle shake of your head. You are grateful that he lets you stay here as the smell of Clive’s sheets is the only thing keeping you from breaking all together.

You had forced yourself out of bed today to go to the Backyard. You sat beside the flower bed, staring at the flowers hoping for something to happen. Flowers were your comfort for a long time, and now it is like they have no effect at all. You look at the lilies that are off to the side, and all you can do is scoff. Reunion my foot.

You hear footsteps and paws coming down the stairs. You know it is Torgal and Jill, especially when Torgal has been stuck to Jill’s side for the last two weeks. You can’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to be around you either.

“You came to pay the flowers a visit. They’ve missed you.”

“They aren’t very good at showing it.” You shrug. You have been here for a few hours, and your mood hasn’t changed. You feel empty.

“Hortense is holding a sewing class for some new arrivals. You should come and say hi.” Jill says gently, not wanting to make your mood shift further south.

Deep down, you know you’ve let Jill down. You had promised to be there for her like she had with you, yet your own self pity refuses to acknowledge your lack of empathy. The demon residing in your brain just tells you that no one understands. It doesn’t matter if everyone is grieving about the three’s passing; your happy ending relied on your lover coming back to you. Everyone else can move on, keeping him in their memory. You can’t because a part of you is now dead with him.

You move to stand up, not wanting to bring her down with you. “They won’t want to see me. I’ll just make a fool out of myself.”

You move to head upstairs when Torgal blocks your walking route, and Jill gets in front of you. She grabs your shoulders, looking at you intently. You can see she is trying hard not to break in front of you, making that deep part of you scream to get over yourself. “Please, _____. You are an important asset to the Hideaway; the Jack of all Trades. I know they would love to meet you. The more kind people like you they meet, the more comfortable they will be here.”

Even since the end of Origin, new arrivals have continued to come in, many wanting to help with the cause. Even though bearers no longer have the power of magicks, it has led to more violence against those with the mark. This has led to everyone working more tirelessly to make strides for a future with new hope reinstated. You have yet to meet many of them, the motivation to do so never in your favor.

“Clive would want you to continue his legacy.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to scream how his legacy has taken him away from you. You know your way of thinking is irrational, but the rational part of you is a mountain ready to avalanche. With the last bit you have, you take a deep breath, knowing she is right. He would want you to continue living, even without him.

“Okay,” you nod. “I’ll meet them. I can’t promise I’ll come off as kind. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the strength.”

Jill smiles, brushing hair from your face. “All I ask is that you try. We miss you.”

You three ascend the stairs, Jill locking arms with you as if you’d run away. You make it to the main deck, seeing Hortense and a few new faces sitting in a circle. Hortense waves, signaling you three to join in. “_____, it is so good for you to join us!”

“It’s, um, great to be here.” You say, trying to come off as happy.

You, Jill, and Torgal join the circle, quick introductions being passed around before Hortense starts her lesson. She is doing a lesson on basic sewing techniques using cross-stitching circles, showing everyone different patterns, styles, and methods for different types of fabrics. One of the new arrivals, Greta you remember her name being, was looking at your stitching constantly. You turn to look at her, and she quickly turns away. You look at her work, and you can tell she is struggling a little bit.

“Hey,” you say slightly above a whisper. “Try this.”

You show her a trick when it comes to tightening the thread, making it so it won’t want to fall apart. “Okay, now you try.”

Greta follows your method to a T, going slowly as she does it from memory. She smiles, seeing how well it worked. “That’s genius! Thank you so much!”

You nod, going back to your own work with a subtle smile on your face. You remember when you first learned how to sew, and how difficult it was for you. You remember when you had to learn on your own, Hortense having too much on her plate. You forgot how good it was to help others, and even if this feeling is for a moment, you feel lighter. You face Jill to see her glancing at you, a grin on her face as she continues messing with her circle of fabric. You know she is punching the air in success in her mind right now.

The session lasts for roughly an hour, and Hortense puts it to a close. “I’ll hold another class next week. Feel free to practice in the meantime.”

‘Yes ma'am’ is said in unison, and everyone departs to get ready for supper. You and Jill stay behind, helping Hortense put stuff away and create small chatter. As you all finish up, you pull Jill aside, feeling the need to say something. “Jill, I want to thank you. But most importantly, I want to apologize for not being there for you as well. I promise to do better by you.”

“Oh, _____,” Jill coos, bringing you in for a hug. “It’s okay. I understand your pain. We will get through this.”

You two continue like this, and all you can think is maybe this is a new start. Maybe you can start grieving in a better way than you have been. You know it won’t happen overnight, but after days of feeling like you’ve been dragged into a hole, you sense you can see the light.

Someone is yelling from afar, and you pull back to see a woman walking quickly to Hortense, a basket of what looks to be freshly clean linens in her hands. You and Jill walk over to see the commotion, only to see another new face. Hortense motions you two over, grinning from ear to ear with the woman beside her. “Ah, _____! I don’t think the two of you have met. This is Willow. She’s been helping me a lot with many of the laundry duties.”

“Oh Lady _____, it is so lovely to meet you.” Willow says, bowing her head slightly. “Also, lovely to see you again Lady Jill.”

You bow slightly, not used to such formalities towards yourself. Jill chimes in, glee in her tone. “You as well. Thank you for helping Hortense during this time. I know she surely appreciates it.”

“Of course!” Willow chirps. “I was coming over here to tell her the linens for the beds are done. Lady ____, I was able to clean your sheets as well so you will have a freshly made bed for tonight.”

You stop breathing, your ears deceiving you. “W-what?”

Willow was still smiling, not catching on to the atmospheric shift. “Your sheets! Hortense got me to get all the bed linens for a wash, but I went ahead and had your bed made as a good gesture.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest, and your vision is starting to blur. She cleaned the sheets. She cleaned Clives sheets. Not yours, but Clives. The one thing you had left of him, the one thing that still smelled like him, the one thing that made it feel like he wasn’t completely gone from the world, vanishing right before your eyes. You are starting to breathe hard, everything around you is no longer real. It is just you being thrown back into your suffocating glass box, and being thrown back into that dreaded hole. You can hear voices, but can’t distinguish what is being said. It’s when you feel a hand on your shoulder that the glass shatters, leaving you bloody in the dark, dank hole.

You collapse, the flood gates opening with shrieks and agonizing sobs. You are hitting the wood, small splinters digging into your fist as you continue. You didn’t care because no pain was more painful than what you are feeling right now. You hear running, and more commotion in the background.

“There is nothing to see here, take your leave.” It’s Gav. It fucking Gav.

“_____, please get up. What happened?”

“This is my fault.” Hortense says mortified. “I didn’t tell Willow that room was off limits.”

Your breathing is now rapid, sucking air and pushing it out because it isn’t enough. Arms wrap around you and you thrash around, yelling and screaming to let you go. “Get the fuck off of me!”

Gav has you upright and the rage you are now feeling bubbles out, turning into hitting his chest. “You are the only other person that goes in there, and you didn’t notice the fucking sheets were gone?! How could you let this happen?!”

“Please, _____. I just got back from Lostwing. I haven’t been there since early this morning.” Gav reasons, getting a grip on you with your arms secure so you wouldn’t do something you regret.

“That was all I had left of him.” You wail. “All I had was his scent and now it’s gone! It’s all fucking gone! He’s gone!”

“I got her from here. You three go have dinner.” Gav picks you up bridal style, walking up the main deck stairs. You are still crying, and your vision is blurry but you can still make out what is behind you. Willow is hugging Hortense, both visibly upset. But then you see Jill, who is standing there looking at the ground, none moving. Torgal is nudging her, but she won’t budge.

I’m sorry, Jill. I broke my promise.

Day 31

One month. It has been one month since Clive’s death, and you are no longer alive; a living corpse that lays in bed for days and days on end. You only get up to use the privy chambers, but other than that you lay there. Nothing is enjoyable anymore. The idea of going to the Backyard, to the Shelves, or even the Ale House is unappealing. Gav usually brings you food, sometimes Jill, but you barely touch it. You eat a little, but your appetite is non-existent; you eat only when your stomach tells you to.

People don’t visit you like they did. Sometimes Jill, Tarja, and even Jote would come in for a short time. They would try talking to you, they would rub your side to bring comfort, they would brush your hair, yet you wouldn’t react. Those visits have slowly dissipated, and you can’t blame them.

You hate what Clive’s passing has turned you into. You never thought grief would transform you so poorly. Grief isn’t new to you, just as it isn’t new for most people in the realm. You grieved when your parents passed, you grieved when Hideaway members didn’t return from missions, you grieved when Titan and his Dhalmekian goons killed so many innocent people in the Old Hideaway. But Clive is your one true love; the one man that was able to intertwine his soul with yours. They say once the soul has been torn into two, it never fully recovers.

You get up from the bed with all the strength you can muster. As you stand, you face the mirror from across the room, and what you see makes you shutter. You walk over slowly, not quite believing that it is you in the reflection. Your fingertips drag along the cool surface, slightly dissociating in the process. What was once full and bright features were now hollowed from lack of sleep, crying, lack of appetite, and the grief that’s swallowing you.

“By the Founder, I look dreadful.”

You want to heal. You want to get better. Your soul is waiting for your shell of a body to hatch, so it may continue to live. But how can you do that in a place where everywhere you look, you see him? Every corner of the Hideaway is covered with Clive’s aspirations, dreams, and ideas. If you want to move on, to grieve healthily, you can’t stay here. You need to be somewhere that takes you back to a time before Clive.

The moon shines brightly in the room, giving you enough light to maneuver around. You pack a small bag of your belongings, only with things that would benefit your travels, and dress yourself in clothes to protect you from the elements. Once situated, you walk over to what was once Clive’s desk and sit down. You grab the quill and a scroll, and look at the blank paper. Your eyes start to water, knowing this decision will ruffle some feathers, and will create a form of worry you won’t be here to satiate. You think about getting back into bed and forgetting about what you are about to do, but you know this is a must. You are holding everyone in the Hideaway back, and you can’t support the cause if you aren’t getting better.

You must do this, so therefore you write.

“What do you mean she left?” Jill raises her voice, the shock clear in her tone.

Gav had come into Clive’s old chambers to send some letters out to town leaders when he saw the bed was empty and made, with a scroll lying on top of the pillow. When Gav opened it, and read the words on the page, he immediately called for an urgent meeting with the main Hideaway members.

“She left this on the bed.” Gav states solemnly, passing it to Otto who is on his right. “Long story short, she doesn’t want to be found. She didn’t give a direct location to where she was heading. All she said is she will send word when she is ready to communicate.”

“She isn’t in the right state of mind to go out by herself!” Tarja says with irritation. “What is she thinking?!”

“How would she have even left? We only have one boat, no?” Tomes questions.

“We have a second boat in case the one Obolus uses is in need of repair.” Otto mutters, looking at the scroll a tad longer before passing it off to the next person.

Jill stands up from her seat, huffing as she turns to take her leave. Gav stands with her, already reading her mind. “Where the bloody fuck you think you’re going?!

“Rather than us wasting our breath, I’m going to go find her!” Jill shouts, frustration built into her face.

Tarja stands up quickly to grab Jill’s arm. “Now wait a damn second. We need a plan before we start going out willy nilly.”

“As you said, she isn’t in the right mindset to be out by herself. She could be dead in a ditch for all we know.” Jill seethes, pissed that nobody seems to be as fearful for her friend as she is.

“She is strong, Jill.”

Everyone turns to Jote, who is never one to chime in unless need be. She is holding the scroll, looking at it as she speaks. “I don’t know her as well as you all may, but from what I do know she is very resilient. She wouldn’t leave unless necessary, and this letter proves as much.”

Everyone is quiet, thinking caps on as they process Jote’s words. The first words spoken after the pregnant silence is Otto, turning to Gav seriously. “Gav, you are the leader of the Hideaway now. It is your call.”

Gav ponders for a moment, a bit torn of what action is best to take. You are family and he wants to know you are safe. He also doesn’t want to get in the way of what you need to do to get better. He fears sending Hideaway members out to find you will make things worse.

“I think,” Gav pauses, sighing in the process. “I will alert town leaders around Valisthea to keep their eyes peeled for her. If she doesn’t want to be bothered, we shouldn’t intrude. Getting a location on her though would be beneficial for us to ensure she is at least safe.”

“Gav is right,” Otto agrees. “She will need to go into towns for essentials and will probably pass through a few.”

“If we don’t hear anything within a month's time, we will start sending out some search parties, but as I said we cannot bother her if we find her. We have to hope she will reach out to us when she is ready.” Gav continues, giving everyone a once over to see if his words are reciprocated.

Agreements are shared, some more hesitant than others, before Gav dismisses everyone to their daily duties. When the last person leaves, Gav collapses into his seat, taking deep breaths as he runs his hands over his face.

“May Greagor be with you, _____.” Gav whispers to himself.

Day 40

You can’t sleep, constantly shifting under the covers with no sense of relief. You feel hot, which is abnormal for this cool night. You start to burn up, skin flaring until it starts to burn. You sit up, panicking as you throw the covers off of you before you freeze, breath caught in your throat. In the moonlight, there is a figure sitting across the room from you, head bowed down with arms in their lap. You panic in silence, not knowing whether to fight or flight.

“You’re awake.” That voice. You know that voice all too well.

“C-Clive?” You stutter, not trusting your voice to break the quiet.

Silence suffocates the room. You wait for a response, but he just sits there. You move off the bed and walk towards him slowly, feeling off about what you are experiencing. He’s dead. Metia’s star went out. This can’t be real.

You are standing in front of him now, your bare toes touching his boots. He still doesn’t move, so you move your hands to his head, messing with the strands of hair from his head. “Clive, is it really you?”

“You left.” You pause, his tone off. Is he not happy to see me?

“Clive, I thought you were dead. We all did.”

“And yet, you still left.” He growls, finally moving his hands to grip your waist tightly, on the verge of pain. “You promised to wait for me. You broke that promise.”

“Clive,” you choke. “I’m sorry I-”

“You broke your promise to Jill.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You abandoned the Hideaway, my legacy, like it was nothing!”

“Clive, you’re hurting me.” You are crying now. His fingers are digging into your side hard, and you look to see he is shaking with anger.

“This is nothing in comparison to how you have hurt me!” He yells, and he lifts his head, causing you to gasp. His eyes are orange, glowing bolder and bolder the more worked up he got. You try to pry his grip off of you, but to no avail.

“Please, Clive!” You cry harder. “I love you, I'm sorry for leaving! I should have stayed!”

“You are too late, _____.” He seethes.

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

You shoot up from your bed, screaming in a cold sweat. You look around the room like a mad woman, trying to gauge your surroundings. A wave of nausea overcomes you and you fall to the floor, vomiting from the absolute madness that occurred in your head. You dry heave on the floor, waiting for the next course of nausea to arrive but it never came. You sat up so your back was against the bed, relieved you weren’t going to be sick again, yet frustrated all the same.

You arrived in Dhalmekia four days ago. Originally, you set out to find your childhood home where you grew up with your parents, but when you arrived at the village off to the left of the Northern Velkroy, it had all but been abandoned. Your home, that was left with memories of your old life, ravaged from what you could assume to be bandits. So you kept going, hitchhiking a few rides before traveling on foot. That is when you found a small, two room cottage down in the Fields of Corava, a place you weren’t aware of, having never been south of Dalimil. There was minimal damage; a broken window and some chipped flooring. It was a better place to stay for the time being.

Ever since arriving, however, your mind has conjured terrible dreams with it being the same every time. It was always you and Clive in this room with him degrading your worth. The first night didn’t feel real, knowing that Clive would never act as such with you. But tonight, after having it for the fourth time in a row, your heart is waning.

You stare at the chair you saw Clive in, an increasing amount of anguish washing over you as you look. He’s gone. Your fingers dig into your thighs, trying to ground yourself. He’s gone. You start to choke on air, not wanting the cries of grief released from your lungs. He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s fucking gone!

The shell cracks, the quiet night becomes piercing as you scream. You shoot up to the chair, taking it and bashing it into the floor. You keep screaming, the splinters from the chair and the floor growing with each smack. No matter the ache your body is having, the adrenaline rushing through your it has given your grief new purpose; a cathartic event that is shaping your mentality.

The chair is nothing but wood; the bare bones of it. You get up to open the door, chucking the wood outside the door with rage. The splintered wood digs into your hands, your emotional distress covering any semblance of physical pain. Your screams have turned into wails, angry tears dripping from your face to the floor.

This rage inside of you stirred by grief makes you feel like you're dying. If anyone told you that Clive’s death would make you transform into the living dead, you’d laugh. How could anyone make you feel dead when you were the cheerful jack of the Hideaway?

The wood is now dispersed all across the field before you, bathing in the pure light of the moon. You sink into the cottage where the dark swallows you, slamming the door shut and sliding down it as your body continues its assault. Your bloody hands grip at your hair as you rock back and forth, chanting the same two words over and over.

He’s gone.

Day 70

The atmosphere at the Hideaway was the same like any other day. People were up doing their tasks or simply enjoying the day; it has been the same old, same old.

That is, until the bell on the pier sounded off.

“What is going on?!” Jill yells, everyone looking over the main deck to see the commotion. The bell is only used for emergencies, like if an enemy were to approach the Hideaway. However, Jill sees that people weren��t panicking, but rejoicing.

Gav runs up to Jill alarmed, trying to get a sense of what’s happening. “Oh fuck me! What’s going on?!”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Jill says, her and Gav picking up the pace as they walk to see the situation at hand; both ready to take action. The two of them push through the crowd, finally reaching the railing that sees over the pier. The first instant Jill looks down, a gasp is let out with her hand covering her mouth and eyes bulging.

“No fucking way,” Gav whispers, not quite believing what he is seeing.

But their eyes do not betray them, for the bell has rang not for an emergency situation, but a message that he is alive. Clive is alive.

“He made it… Great Greagor he fucking made it!” Gav cheers.

“Clive!” Jill yells.

Clive looks up to the main deck to see two of his cherished friends, and right as he makes eye contact with them, he makes a run for the lift. Gav and Jill follow his lead, running in the direction he is to come to officially greet him. The minute Clive steps out from the lift, Gav and Jill are on him, hugging him tightly to make sure he isn’t here to haunt the place.

“You’re alive!” Jill elates.

“I apologize for my late return. I didn’t realize I’d be sorely missed.” Clive jokes, watching as more people gather around them.

“Are you kidding? This place has been falling apart without you!” Gav exaggerates.

It makes Clive chuckle, placing his hand on Gav’s shoulder as he pulls back. “Seeing all the new faces, I doubt that. And that is thanks to you. Thank you for keeping the Hideaway safe.”

Clive feels something rub his leg, and looks to see Torgal rubbing his head against him. He bends down, using his good arm to rub behind Torgal’s ears. “Torgal, have you been a good boy since I’ve been away?”

“Clive,” Jill gasps. “You’re arm.”

During Clive’s travels back home, his arm had become more of a nuisance if anything. He is a strong man; he can wield swords made of the heaviest metals, no problem. But to have an appendage weigh more than the other, well, that is a whole different situation. He had ripped part of his cape and created a sling to keep his arm in place, making travel more bearable.

Clive stands up straight, rubbing his stoned arm. “Yeah… I didn’t get away completely unscathed.” Clive draws out. “But nevertheless, we won.”

“What of Joshua and Dion?” Jill asks, even though the look in her eyes tells him she already knows. All he could do was shake his head.

“I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do.” Clive says, having much to tell.

“You will, but not before we get your arm sorted out.”

“Of course,” Clive chuckles, and turns to see Tarja with her arms crossed and hip out. He is so happy to be back amongst friends and family, ready to truly cherish his time after a battle where he could have easily perished. But most importantly, he is ready to see you.

Truth be told, Clive’s travels back to Valisthea were consumed mostly by you. All he could think about was how he craves for you to be in his warm embrace, giving him kisses and caresses that would heal him for a lifetime. To be away from you for so long is agony, and what has kept him going was knowing the future is now his and yours; one where you both can live lives worth living.

He looks around and sees a bunch of familiar faces approach, his original crew gathering around him as they welcome his return. He scans the crowd, nodding to everyone and granting a smile. However, he doesn’t see you within the sets of familiar faces.

“Where’s _____?” Clive asks, scanning the crowd once more for your face.

Everyone goes silent, glancing at one another trying to communicate. An uneasy feeling settles in Clive’s pit, not liking the reaction he got with his simple question.

Tarja is the first to speak up, diverting the question quickly with urgency. “We can talk about her later, but first we need to do something about your arm straight away. Jill. Gav. Take him to the infirmary. I’ll be up there shortly.” There was a look in Tarja’s eyes that told Clive she wouldn’t be there for a while, which made that uneasy feeling grow bolder.

Gav and Jill suddenly hook arms with Clive on either side, walking fast so he had no choice but to follow. Clive could feel himself getting frustrated, having wanted to see you for days upon days and not being granted that wish immediately upon his return.

He leans down to Jill’s ear, needing an explanation immediately. “Where is she?”

“It is better we explain once we are upstairs.” Jill reasons, although there is a shake in her voice.

The four of them get into the infirmary, Jill and Gav situating Clive on a cot. Gav whispers to Jill, her nodding in response as he jogs out of the room. Clive looks at her, a million thoughts running through his head at their peculiarness.

“Jill, what is happening?”

Jill twiddles her thumbs, taking deep breaths as she prepares herself. She looks down at the floorboards, and Clive can feel the tension in the room. “Some things happened while you were away, Clive.” Her breath trembles. “You aren’t going to be happy with what I’m about to say.”

“You are worrying me, Jill.” Clive says, trying to stay calm. “Please tell me what’s happened.”

Jill looks up, eyes starting to gloss over. She places her hands over Clive’s right hand, squeezing it gently. “The night of Origin. Metia’s star went out, and I couldn’t feel you anymore after that. I thought you were dead.

“Jill,” Clive says in a low tone. “I apologize for causing so much grief.”

“We all thought you died.” Jill laughs solemnly. “Seeing you right now doesn’t feel real.”

Clive squeezes Jill’s hands as a means to comfort her, as well as to urge her to continue. She shakes her head, tears as icy Shiva’s magick slipping down her face. “We all took it very hard. Some held hope, but after weeks of no signs of your return, everyone had accepted it.”

Jill’s breath stutters. “But Greagor, Clive. _____ took it so hard.” The tears started to fall, Jill shaking as she continued. “She wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t eat… oh Greagor she wouldn’t talk to anyone. She would just lay there no matter what we tried to do.”

Clive thinks his heart just tore. The thought of you like that made him ill. And the past tense of Jill’s words make the air all the more suffocating.

“Where is she, Jill? Let me see her, please.” He pleads, needing to show you that he lives and has come back to her.

“I’m sorry,” Jill cries, her head bowing onto their intertwined hands. “I’m so sorry, Clive.”

“Jill talk to me, please!” He begs before hearing the door to the infirmary open, only to see Gav with a small scroll in his hand.

“Gav, you need to tell me what has happened.” Clive says sternly, knowing another second longer with no answer will send him into a frenzy.

Gav shows him the scroll, making Clive gently let go of Jill’s hands to reach for it but before he could grab it Gav backed away. “When you read this, know that we have plans enacted.”

Gav hands it to him, taking another step back to give Clive more space. Clive unravels the scroll quickly, the need for answers strong. And he gets his answer, but that answer makes his skin run cold and go hot at the same time.

Gav,

I apologize for putting this on you. I know your transition as the new Cid has been a lot, and I am sorry for making it much harder for you. This space is yours now. Not Clive’s, nor mine.

You know as well as the others I am not well. A part of me died the day Clive passed, and being here has made any progress of healing not happen. Truth is, I see him everywhere. Everything here reminds me of him, and it’s killing me because one moment I see him and the next I don’t. The grief that has consumed me has become everlasting.

By the time you read this, I will be far gone. Please, I beg of you, do not come find me. Do not send anyone to come find me. I will not come back, at least for now. Any chance of me getting better is for me to go out there, not stay here. I know this will cause worry, and I apologize for being a nuisance, but I have no choice. It’s either I die out there trying or I stay here rotting.

Tell the others I’m sorry, especially Jill, and take care of her. Once I’m ready, I’ll send word of my whereabouts. Until then, please let me grieve in peace.

Much obliged,

_____

Clive is seeing red. His fist starts to squeeze the paper, crackles and the sound of a tear coming from it. “When did she leave?”

“It’s been about a month.” Gav mutters, and everything that happens next is a blur. Clive shoots up from the bed, charging towards Gav before slamming him into the door.

“Clive, please don’t!” Jill cries.

“She’s been gone for a month?! And you have yet to find her?!” Clive yells, his fist gripping tightly onto Gav’s leathers.

“We have notified people on the outside to keep us posted.” Gav tries to reassure. “That is what the Hideaway members have agreed on.” His words do nothing to soothe him. If he still had his magick, he is sure hellfire would rain on the Hideaway.

“She needed time, Clive.” Jill rests her hand on his shoulder. “We chose to respect her wishes.”

He scoffs, backing away from the both of them, disbelief clear on his features. “You agreed to this too?”

“You were not here to witness what we did!” Jill yells agitated. “Clive, I understand your frustration, but if you saw how she was you wouldn’t think twice.”

He wants to stay angry, put the blame on someone selfishly. You’ve done so much for the Hideaway, the cause, everyone involved. How could they let you leave? But all he feels is defeat. He came too late, and now he needs to make up for lost time.

“Excuse me,” Clive mutters, walking towards the door Gav is still leaning against.

Jill shoots herself to grab the upper half of his petrified arm, a grunt forced out at the pulling tension. “Clive, you need to stay right here so Tarja can do something about your arm.”

“No, I am going to go out and look for her! She needs to know I’m alive!” He tries shaking her grip off his arm, but to no avail as she holds on tighter. Panic is starting to set in, not knowing where you are and if you are safe freaking him out. It is almost as if he is experiencing firsthand what you went through.

Gav steps forward, putting his hands on Clive’s shoulders shaking him slightly. “We have cursebreakers looking for her daily now that the month of her leave has passed. We will find her. And now that you are back, we will bring her home.”

“Once you are better, we will go with you to search for her. But for right now, you need to rest. Let the cursebreakers do what they’ve been assigned to do.” Jill reassures. “Let’s get you ready for Tarja. The sooner she can fix you up, the faster you can go out.”

Clive takes a deep breath before nodding, and lets Jill and Gav guide him back to the cot. He sits back down, and all he can do is look down at the floorboards. Anger and defeat have turned into a sadness he cannot fully comprehend; a feeling he hasn’t quite felt before. “Do you two mind giving me some time alone? Please.”

“Of course, Clive. We will be outside if you need anything.” Jill says, before the sound of four feet patter across the floor and the creak of the door opens and closes, leaving Clive completely alone.

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that; unmoving, eyes glued to the floor. All he thinks is he should have found a way to send a message to you so you knew he had survived. Deep down, he knows there was nothing he could have done given his circumstances, but that doesn’t stop the blame game he is putting upon himself. So he sits there, wallowing in his heartache as his shoulders shake and throat lets out faint sobs.

The letter is still held tightly in his grasp.

Day 71

Waking up early in the morning before the sun makes its greeting isn’t abnormal for you, not when you dream constantly. Sometimes your dreams would startle you. Sometimes they would make you wake up crying. Sometimes they would wake you up with a smile on your face. But the time is always the same; the moon is always there to tell you the time of the morning and you fall back into a deep sleep before the sun shows itself. However, this time is different.

In recent days, you’ve had nothing but wonderful dreams. Not ones like when you first came here, or ones about a future no longer possible. They were dreams of the past, deja vu in nature. Fond memories of you and Clive ranging from the first time you laid eyes on him to the last. What’s different about your calling back to the real world is your eyes open to hues of yellow and orange shining through the window. It is not the moon’s beams that greet you, but the sun’s rays.

You get out of bed and go to the door, opening it to step out onto the field. The early morning air hits your skin, the grass licking at your feet as you continue forward. You trek to the spot between the elevated land, a v-shape displaying the rising sun as it continues its ascent. Your hand goes out in front of you, watching your skin transform as the sun’s colors grow brighter. You can’t help but smile at the sight before you because all you feel is peace. For once since Valisthea changed forever, you felt like everything will be okay.

You think about the first time you and Clive watched the sunrise together, holding each other tightly as you both talk about how it is a new day full of hopes and dreams. You remember him telling you how he has never felt more alive than he did in that moment, and you can understand why; you understand because you feel the same.

You know Clive would want you to live to the fullest, for that was what he wanted all along. Even if things didn’t turn out the way they should have, he would have wanted you to live for him, but most importantly for yourself. He would want you to remember your time together fondly, and that it wasn’t for nothing. It was everything.

You inhale deeply, the scents of the morning filling your airways before you exhale. You continue to look out on the horizon, mesmerized by the beauty of a new day; a new start .

“I deserve to be happy, right Clive?” You whisper to yourself. “I will continue to live for you and for me. Starting now.”

This is the start of your new life.

Day 172

“These are absolutely beautiful, my lady. These are so hard to find in Dhalmekia.”

You smile brightly, watching the woman before you admire your handy work. “I’m pleased that you love them. Morgenbeards are native to the swampy waters in Rosaria, but I was able to get my hands on some seeds.”

“You must know your stuff to get them to grow here.” The lady continues.

You shake your head, grinning at her. “I have my ways.”

To say things have gotten better would be the greatest understatement in history because you are thriving. It is as if everything has fallen into place. You fixed up the small cottage you are residing in so it felt more like a home rather than a temporary visit. You did a lot of prep work to ensure you’d live comfortably. The greatest thing, however, is you found a way to make a living for yourself, the one thing you do best: grow flowers.

You noticed how flowers grew in the fields, yet you could tell they needed help; the Dhalmeky dirt too dry to keep them alive for long. You were able to get some books on flower gardening, along with different kinds of seeds, all imported from merchants who graciously accepted the little gil you had. It took some time, but those things helped you open a flower shop out of your home. And thus far, it has been a wonderful success.

You had taken a flower cart to Dalimil to get your name out there, and to let people know where to find your business. You eventually want to move your business within the inn’s market, but when you had come to propose the idea, you found out Lubor had been gone on an expedition. The cart will have to do, you recalled thinking. The people there have been nothing but supportive, offering their business in exchange for theirs: vases, business signs, gardening supplies, etcetera. It was a good system that benefitted you and them. You were grateful.

You are sitting at the kitchen table, having closed shop for the day, sipping on some hot tea as you write down your daily earnings. A hard day’s work is rewarding, and knowing your flowers have made your customers happy makes you happy. To be doing things that feel worthwhile feels good, and the last time you felt this way was when you lived at the Hideaway.

The Hideaway. You stop writing as you reminisce about those times. It really wasn’t that long ago, yet it feels like a lifetime. Have I changed that much?

You miss everyone dearly. You miss Tarja’s tough love. You miss Mid’s inventiveness. You miss Otto’s gruffness. You miss Tome’s stories of his travels. You miss Jote’s coolness. You miss Gav’s banter. You miss Torgal’s way of comforting you. You miss Jill’s faith. You miss everyone. You often wonder if they miss you too.

You are surprised no one has come looking for you, or have found you if they were. You think about what they must have thought when you left that letter. Were they angry? Sad? Worried? All three? Did they listen to you when you said you didn’t want to be found or did they nonstop look day and night for you? You couldn’t tell. Not unless you find out for yourself.

You set the daily earnings paper aside, and lay out a fresh one, your quill hovering over the paper as you think of what to say. There are so many words to say, yet you don’t know where to start. Do you share everything? Do you just tell them you are okay? Do you tell them where you are? So many questions to answer with little paper to write it all out. So you write something simple, hoping it gets the message across.

I hope this finds you well. Come see me if you wish. You all know where to find me.

Day 179

Clive’s search for you has been non-stop, days and nights spent looking for trails only to find dead ends. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how you could have disappeared without a trace. But that will not deter him. He will not stop looking until he finds you.

Every place that Clive could think of they checked. Areas in Dhalmekia were the first places they looked, knowing you knew the area better than others. The very first place they checked was your childhood home near the Northern Velkroy, but it didn’t look like there were any signs of life there. Different towns within the area were checked but no one had heard or seen you. Hell, they were more surprised to see him alive and well to focus on the whereabouts of a lost woman. He understood, but it grated his nerves.

Every other place in Valisthea had been scouted and marked as they went, but every location and mark was the same. So here he was, writing letters to town leaders of the cause again to be his eyes. You have to show up somewhere eventually, if you haven’t already.

As every day passes, his heart wanes further. It yearns for you, calling out its other half to be complete again. When he does rest, granted not for long periods of time, he imagines you are lying with him. He holds a pillow close in his arms, picturing it to be you to subdue his crazed heart and mind. It was nice to pretend, but then he wakes up and is sorely disappointed to see what lies in his arms is just that: a pillow. It’s a cycle because the same thought crosses his mind each and every time: the day you are back in his arms will be a momentous day. That day has yet to come.

He keeps writing the same words over and over on different sheets of paper when he hears commotion from beyond his doors. The fighting instinct in him shoots up, running to the door to see what was happening when he sees Otto, Jill, and Gav running towards him.

“Has something happened?” Clive asks, alarmed.

Otto reaches Clive first, shoving a piece of paper into his hand. “She has communicated with us.”

Clive couldn’t read the paper fast enough, not quite believing this day had come. He rings out the paper to straighten it before reading her handwriting. “She is staying in a cottage in the Fields of Corava.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get the lass back!” Gav expresses with full excitement, springs basically on the bottom of his feet with how bouncy he is.

Jill pats Gav on the back. “Gav, let’s let Clive go alone.” She then turns to face Clive, an understanding smile greeting him. “They will need some time together.”

“Thank you, Jill.” Clive says softly. “I thank all of you.”

“Well, if that’s the case…” Gav draws out, approaching Clive before slamming his hand on his shoulder, “you better get cleaned up! You have a lady to see.”

Clive laughs at Gav’s antics, and turns to ready himself; ready himself to return to you once and for all.

Day 184

It’s late in the morning as you gather flowers into your basket, trimming and cutting the ones that have bloomed beautifully. The flower gardens in the field were flourishing more and more every day. The more you work in the gardens, the more fulfillment you feel. You felt this when you helped out in the Backyard, but what you built here is from your own doing. You believe it to be a testament to your growth, showing that you made the right decision all those months ago. You’ve created your own little utopia, and to share it with others is a beautiful thing.

As you cut fresh flowers, you start to wonder if people at the Hideaway got your letter. You would love for them to come visit, and see what you have done with the place. You wonder if they will ever come to see you or if they will send a letter back. It could be any day now, and you will be ready.

You have a full basket of flowers ready to be put in vases, and before you can get up to head inside you see a shadow lingering above your form. “I’m sorry, but I won't be open for another couple of hours.”

There is no reply, and the shadow remains as still as a statue. You sigh, standing up to turn and be more clear with your words. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I still need to se-”

The flower basket falls from your grasp, tumbling out and falling into a heap by your feet. Time has frozen, not feeling real as you look at the person you have longed to see for months. You question if you are hallucinating, having had moments where you would see Clive one second and the next he was gone. This, however, was different.

The man before you was not in uniform; just a simple white tunic that displayed a few of his chest curls at the v-cut and regular black trousers with his leather boots. His face was clean-shaven, the facial hair he had kept for so long absent from his face making him look younger. The biggest difference, however, was his left arm; from his elbow down was gone. How could this be hallucination?

“Am I dreaming or is this real?” You breathe, blinking a few times to see if he’d disappear. He didn’t.

He takes a step forward, grabbing one of your hands to place it over his heart. He is warm, his heart fluttering quickly. He is looking down into your eyes, where you see his baby blues grow glossy. “This is real.” He murmurs. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

Something about his words break you, your hands latching onto his shirt to hold yourself to reality. He’s home. My Clive is home.

You can’t help the sobs that leave your mouth as you bury your face into his chest, making him wrap his arm around you as you both collapse down into the flower beds. You are feeling every emotion under the sun, and you can tell Clive does too as he holds you in his lap. He cries with you, sharing a reunion so pure that it is overwhelming. You lift your head and bring his face to yours, kissing him so deeply that your lungs shake. Exchanges of small words come out between the two of you as you give each other kisses that have been longed for.

“I never thought I’d see this day.” You say with a wobble in your tone, kissing him again and again. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Clive croaks, and goes back in for your lips.

There you both make up for lost time; holding onto each other in a field of flowers where kisses and touches are continuously exchanged.

You and Clive eventually went inside. You turn the sign on your door to ‘close’, so no one can bother you two. You watch Clive look around the place, taking in your little set up of flowers on the kitchen table.

“I apologize for the mess. I’ve had a lot of requests over the last few days believe it or not.”

Clive looks at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. You’ve always had a way with flowers. Speaking of which…”

He reaches into his pocket, only to pull out the lily you had given him all that time ago. You gasp, surprised he has kept hold of it. “You still have it? But how?”

“I protected it with my life.” Clive sets it onto the table. “You gave it to me with the wish that I’d return to you. I wasn’t going to lose it easily.”

“You are so endearing.” You say, but you have so many things you want to know and that alone puts a small frown on your face.

Clives sees the shift immediately, grabbing your hand to console you. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“What happened at Origin, Clive?” You ask, needing to know what he went through for the time he was gone.

Clive exhales, seemingly knowing that question was coming. He pulls your hand towards him as he walks to your bed. “We should sit down. It is a long story.”

The two of you sit down and Clive still has a tight hold on one of your hands. “Forgive me, for this may take me a second. Thinking about certain events there still hurts.”

You bring your free hand to his face, which feels smooth under your touch. His head leans into your palm, turning slightly to kiss the delicate skin. “Take all the time you need. I am here.” You murmur.

And so, he tells the tale of Origin. He tells you about Dion’s sacrifice. He tells you about what he found out about Ultima’s plans. He tells you about Joshua’s passing, something he had a hard time conveying without his voice breaking, but he pushed on. He tells you about Ultima’s demise. He tells you about how he woke up somewhere off the Shadow Coast of Storm. And he tells you how throughout his journey back to Valisthea, all he could think about was how he couldn’t wait to come home to you. All of it was hard to listen to, hearing what he went through from Origin till now.

“So, Metia going out was a sign that magick has been lost…”

“Mmm,” he hums, the both of you lying down now.

“So that’s why you didn’t become wholly petrified? You stopped it in time.”

“Tarja did a great job removing it and ensuring my stub was healed properly, despite my stubbornness.” He jokes, but you don’t laugh. All you can think about is the past.

“If only I waited a little longer,” you start. “I would have saved us so much grief.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself.” Clive shushes, kissing the top of your head and pulling you closer into his body. “Jill told me you had a very hard time grieving. I will not shame you for doing something you felt was right.

You bury your head into Clive’s neck, breathing in something that is so undeniably him. “You know, when I first got here, I would have these dreams. Nightmares really.”

Clive stays silent, letting you continue. “It would always start and end the same. I would wake up with you in the room, and the next thing I knew you were telling me I had betrayed you… and that you no longer loved me.” You start to sniff, not liking to recall those dreams. “For such a long time, I felt I didn’t deserve to be happy because I had left part of your legacy behind. It felt like your ghost was haunting me day and night.”

“Oh, darling,” Clive pulls you into him so you are on top of him with legs on either side of him. Clive brings your forehead to his, his thumb coming up to swipe the tears building up in your eyes. “I could never not love you.” He looks deeply into you, burning the truth of his heart into you. “I am yours even beyond death.”

His words overwhelm you, and you lean down to kiss him with every passionate fiber in your being. Your hands go to his torso, running your fingers up and down the sides as you continue to show him how much you love him. He grunts into your lips, his arm holding you down to him. Your hands start to slide slowly under his tunic, your fingers slowly ascending until they reach his chest only to go down again. The delicate touch of your fingers makes his hips buck right against your heat, a grunt and a moan echoing together simultaneously. Your hands go back up again, only this time you bring the tunic with you.

“We have a lot of lost time to make up for.” You say against his lips.

Clive smirks at your boldness, only to flip you over on your back so he is hovering over you. “That we do, darling. Forgive me, though. Having one arm gives me less leverage.”

You hum, bringing him back down to you by his hair. “I’m sure we can manage.”

You two make love into the night and into the morning, not getting enough of one another; making up for lost time.

Day 200

Since you and Clive’s reunion, he had decided to stay for a while. He had sent a letter to the Hideaway to let them know you were well and that he would be staying for the time being, making Gav in charge.

“He’ll love that.” You had joked.

“He’s his own man. I have all the faith in him.”

These last few weeks have been sublime. When you wake up, you see Clive snoozing away beside you on your right; always the right so he can wrap his arm around you in his sleep. He has also helped you with the flower shop. You two would go out in the morning before the heat set in to work the ground and water the flowers. You don’t know if the yearning in your body has yet to be satiated, but there have been times when you would come outside to gather more flowers to see Clive with his shirt off, sweat glistening on his burly chest as he works. It takes every bone in your body not to jump his own. Most times, you are unsuccessful.

You also found out Clive is quite the salesman. When you two would go out to Dalimil to sell from your cart, the way he is able to convince people to make a purchase is astounding. Is it the charm? The looks? A combination of both? You could guess, but it didn’t matter. Every time you made a sale, he would turn to give you a quick peck.

“I would kiss you for every individual flower we sell, but we don’t want to scare them away now, do we?”

After a long day out in Dalimil, you two are now inside the cottage finishing up dinner. You are cleaning the dishes when you feel him behind you, wrapping his arm around you pulling your hips to his. You hum in a laughing manner, his friskiness showing as he places kisses on the side of your face. “Clive, let me finish these.”

“They aren’t going anywhere.” He hums, his kisses lingering below your ear.

You sigh but continue cleaning. Clive, on the other hand, was not having it. He pulls you away, soap and water sloshing from your hands as he pulls you to him. He plops down onto the kitchen chair, bringing you into his lap. “Hmmm, I got you.”

“You are such a horn dog. Are you sure Ifrit still doesn’t linger within you?” You laugh, then squeak when he pinches your side.

“In all seriousness,” he murmurs in your ear. “I want to talk about something.”

“About?” You hum.

“About our future.”

“Go on,” you urge. “What about our future?”

“Well,” Clive starts, “living the way we have the last couple weeks, my mind can’t stop wandering to what I want for us.”

Your hand reaches up to his cheek, only for him to nip at the tips of your fingers causing you to giggle. “Such as?”

“To start the life we’ve always talked about.” He places more kisses on your neck. “One where our lives are strictly ours. One where I come home to my beautiful wife.”

“I like the sound of that.” You mewl, his kisses making you squirm in his lap.

“One where I get to see you bearing our child.” His hand goes down to your tummy, rubbing just above your uterus.

“I’ll be surprised if I’m not already with all the love making we have done.” You giggle.

He chuckles along with you, his hand squeezing your flesh. “You’d look beautiful. You always do.” He continues, “one where I get to raise a little me, a little you, or both.”

“It all sounds so wonderful.” You purr, feeling all warm and fuzzy at his remarks.

“Then let’s go ahead with step one.” Clive says, lifting you off of him only to sit you back down. He kneels before you, both of your hands in his one. “I don’t have a ring, but I can’t wait a moment longer. _____, will you do me the utmost honor of marrying me?”

You hum, smiling brightly at his question. “Would you have me in a wedding dress? A big ceremony?”

“Anything your heart desires.”

You shake your head, laughing at his insistence. You look at him, letting yourself get swallowed by his eyes. “I’d marry you with just the clothes on my back.”

Clive grins, bringing your left hand to his lips as he kisses your ring finger. “I cannot wait to marry you, future Lady Rosfield.”

Lady Rosfield. It has a nice ring to it.

#clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield #ffxvi x reader #ffxvi #clive rosfield angst #clive x reader #final fantasy xvi #my fics

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annefolklore · 1 year

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WAIT WAIT WAITTTT. BESTFRIEND!ETHANLANDRY X READER BUT HE GETS HER PREGO AND HE LIVES AND BEGS TO BE FORGIVEN🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽I BEG

yes its me. the one who wants more, but my birthdays in 2 hours tho (may10) SCREAMING

“Please”

Pairing: Bsf!Ethan Landry x Reader

Warnings: Possible spoilers from Scream 6, use of Y/N, D/N is for daughter’s name

Synopsis: Ethan and you were friends with benefits until he reveals his true identity. Even after all this, he survives and begs to be apart of the baby and your life

It’s been a year.

A year since you last saw his face. A year since everything crumbled apart around you.

It all happened so fast but so slowly at the same time. One moment you guys were in his bed making out and a second later, you were in the shrine while Ghostface was taking off his mask to reveal curly brown hair.

You didn’t want to believe it at first, thinking it was all a nightmare because why would your bestfriend with benefits be behind all this mess? He looked at Tara and Sam first and when his eyes laid on your face, his cruel expression softened for a few seconds like he was apologetic before getting back to his cruel self…But it all looked fake.

At this moment, you wanted to cry. Bawl your eyes out as you asked yourself a single question.

“Did he wanted to add these benefits only to take advantage of me before killing me?”

This question haunts you day and night ever since discovering who was behind the mask-

A high pitched cry interrupted your thoughts and you sighed as you stood up from the couch.

After you had rocked her in your arms for what seemed like an eternity with her cries echoing in your ears, she had finally found again some sleep, but still kept her in your arms.

At one point, the doorbell rang throughout the appartement.

You quickly walked toward the door. It was probably Chad, Sam or Tara

“Hi-" you begin but the greeting die in your throat as you immediately recognize who was at the door.

That wasn’t Chad, Sam or Tara…no it was an undead.

He haven’t changed much except for his hair that got a bit longer and his gaze wasn’t as innocent as it pretended to be before. Now it was dry without an ounce of joy…until he laid eyes on your daughter

Our daughter.

Did he noticed how much she looked like him? She has the same tuft of curly hair, same eyes, nose and the same smile that could make anyone’a heart melt.

“Good evening Y/N” he greets you and tried to make a soft smile.

It’s like you snapped out of my trance and everything that happened twirled inside your head. Anika, Quinn, Gale, the core 4. Every memories came back like a tsunami of thoughts.

“Stay back” you muttered as I walked backwards.

Your hold on D/N increased a bit and he noticed the way your hold her even closer to you. His eyes were filled with an apologetic and ashamed look.

Ashamed of himself.

“Please just listen to me” he begs as he takes a step toward you.

You didn’t stop walking backwards as my head was making the “no” side over and over again until your calves touched the couch.

This couldn’t be real right? This couldn’t be happening right now.

“I know I fucked up and you have every reason to hate me…but please just listen to what I have to say” he says again with a pleading look in his eyes.

He hesitated. You couldn’t risk D/N safety around someone like him, but curiosity got the better of you. Telling the core 4 about his return would be a mistake too, because they’ll kill him and you’ll never know what he wanted

So you made the safest option and you let him enter your appartement. It was like letting the wolf enter the lamb’s home.

Your index pointed the couch and he sat down as you demanded him to. Meanwhile, you went to your daughter’s bedroom to put her in her sleeping self in the crib.

If his intentions were still wicked, at least she wouldn’t be in the same room and you prayed he wouldn’t hurt her after killing you.

“You have ten minutes” you acknowledged him and sat at the opposite side of the couch.

“Thank you”

Ethan found the need to say that before beginning anything. You made a small nod and he began talking.

“First of all, I want you to know that I never wanted to do all that-" but you interrupted him.

“But you still did it Ethan! You lied and-" this time he interrupted you

“Please let me speak” he said as he sighed. “I did all this so my dad could actually find me interesting. Ever since I was a child it was always Richie, the perfect son. The one who got all of my dad’s attention after my mother died. If it wasn’t him that was being praised, it was Quinn. She’s the first daughter and the oldest twin. Quinn has always been a daddy’s-little-girl and she became the favourite child after our brother’s death.”

He explain. Ethan took a deep breath before continuing.

“But what about Ethan Bailey? I was only the youngest, the baby of the family that nobody acknowledged. After Richie died, Wayne started treat me like Richie and I enjoyed the sudden attention…until he asked me to be a Ghostface. I hesitated a long time, but accepted because I thought that if maybe I did like Richie he would love me more”

You were speechless as he spilled all this at you.

“But you came along and we began our benefits relationship- and oh you don’t know how much I hated myself at this time-" but you interrupted him again

“This doesn’t explain how you survived and found me”

He almost chuckled at your eager of answers, but this wasn’t something to laugh at.

“The tv only hit my head, but it didn’t damage anything, it only made me black out for a few” he explained “Fortunately, I woke up the same moment cops showed up and I successfully slipped through their fingers”

He hesitated before continued his story. “Now you’re gonna find me weird” he sigh

“I already find you weird, just say what you were about to” you say

“I found where you lived because I looked for you and the core 4” he spited out

“You stalked us” You say more as a statement than a question.

“No I looked for you, I didn’t stalk you…and if I didn’t I would’ve never found out that we have a daughter”

Ethan chose not to say that he followed you almost everyday to know that got where you needed to be safely.

A silent went in between both of you. You couldn’t believe what you were doing. Ghostface was right in front of you and you were having a cordial conversation with him. What would the others think?

“Can I ask you a question?” you breath out.

Ever since he got here, the question has been burning your tongue. He nodded and you asked it in a small voice “Did you agree to level up our friendship only to take advantage of me?”

He frowned at your sentence. He never imagined once that you would feel like that

“Y/N of course not. I’m not some kind of monster…”

“But I still don’t know if I can trust you Ethan…after everything”

Ethan pursed his lips together and looked at the ground. “Please, I will do whatever it takes”

“I don’t know…” you whispered and stood up as you sigh and he stand up too.

He made small steps toward you and when you didn’t pushed him away, he took your much smaller hands in his with a pleading look. “Please Y/N, you’re the only one I knew wouldn’t kill me if I shewed up”

“How do you know I won’t kill you” you say, attempting to scare him but it didn’t work one bit. You knew damn well you weren’t going to kill him.

“Please, I promise to never do anything stupid again” he pleads as he looked into your eyes.

His gaze was full of sorrow and regret while yours were uncertain. Ethan noticed how tense you were and did the first thing that came to his mind.

His knees soon touched the ground and he began the beg even more. “Please Y/N, I cannot live knowing you hate me. I accept the core 4, but please not you. You’re my best friend and I love you so much”

His voice was cracking as he spoke and his hands that were still holding you began to shake. “I even started therapy and I could get a psychologist too if that would make you happy and feel safe around me”

Tears blurs your sights as you listened to his promises. Maybe you should give him a chance after all…

“I’m so sorry for everything” his sentence full of his teary voice as he cried. “I won’t ever do something bad again. I’ll make you happy everyday Y/N and if you allowed me too I would make our daughter happy”

Your appartement was filled with his pleading and his cry and after all, the wolf was revealed to be as soft as a lamb.

———-

I hope you liked what I wrote for your request and happy birthday @scqr6m ! This was really long to write and I tried posting it yesterday for your birthday but because of school I couldn’t 😭And also you can choose the daughter’s name since I did this for your birthday.

This is unfortunately a one time thing, because I don’t want people to lie about their birthdays so I write them something. I did this for her because it was my first serious request so yeah

I hope you guys liked it and English isn’t my first language but I tried my best to make it make sense.

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ozarkthedog · 1 year

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𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

summary: while working as a bartender at Prospero's Orgy, a masked woman follows you into a storage room.

warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. verna x fem!reader. f/f. smut. fingering. slight dom/sub vibes. no spoilers (that i know of). no beta.

word count: 1.3k

author’s note: tbh, I’ve only watched 2 eps so far but I had to write something with her. I don’t know anything about the series so forgive me if there are inaccuracies.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

Booming music shakes the walls of the old, brick building as you make your way to the storage room. You’ll be amazed if the orgy goers don’t drink their way through all the liquor before the night even properly begins. You heard someone mention something about midnight and rain. You pray your boss will let you go home before all hell breaks loose.

You unlock and shove open the storage room door with a sigh. This was not really your kind of scene. You could handle yourself in a bar and catered events, you’d worked plenty of them before but an orgy? You don’t know why you signed yourself up for this. Sure, the money was good but the moment you stepped foot into the abandoned facility, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

The room was dank and barely lit as you graze the various shelves for a case of Glenfiddich. You find the last case on the floor near the back of the room when the storage room door creaks and then shuts with a bang.

Fear prickles your skin.

It’s probably some horny couple looking for a secret place to get off. Still, you clear your throat before nervously calling out, “Hello?”

You scream when a masked skull turns the corner of one of the shelves. You walk backward until a coarse brick wall catches your clothing and halts your retreat.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” A gentle voice says from beneath the mask. The woman is draped in a hooded, sparkly red cape that barely covers her body. The black lingerie she’s wearing underneath leaves little to the imagination.

You clutch your chest as you’re taken aback by the stunning blonde when she unties her mask and reveals herself.

“I couldn’t help myself.” She admits, stepping closer before setting down her mask on one of the shelves. “I saw you from across the room and I…” she trails off looking at you as if she’s seeing the sky for the first time.

“Oh my. Aren’t you precious?” She coos, stepping closer. Blonde hair frames her face like a halo although something in your gut told you she wasn’t an angel.

Your breath catches in your throat. You’ve never seen such a beautiful woman so up close before.

“What are you doing in such a place?” She ponders with curious eyes. They travel the length of your body and back again. Something wicked and dark encases those hazel orbs making you swallow down the lump in your throat.

Your cheeks burn as you stumble over your words. “Bartender- I’m a bartender.” You catch your bottom lip with your teeth and tug unconsciously on it. Your flight response kicks into high gear as the lady in red seals the gap between your bodies.

You whimper as she presses her barely clothed frame against yours. The brick wall behind you leaves no chance of escape as your heart bangs steadily against your ribs.

“Shh. There’s no need to be nervous.” She states softly while cupping your chin in her palm. She drags a perfectly manicured thumb across your bottom lip and tenderly releases it from your teeth. “You’re something I rarely encounter.”

You’re frozen in place, like a deer in headlights, waiting for the inevitable when she leans in and time stops. She brushes her lips over yours, so tender and soft, you try to keep the whimper that bubbles up at bay but to your embarrassment, it escapes.

She pulls away with a grin. “You really are precious.” The apple of your cheek is warm under her thumb as she rubs the soft patch of skin. “So sweet. I’d love to hear you sing.”

Your brow quirks until you feel her hand sliding down your belly. She catches your wild eyes in a firm stare. “Tell me to leave and I will.” She states while lifting the hem of your skirt and snaking her hand beneath the material. “Or will you allow me to experience your seraphic nature?”

Your core clenches as she palms your mound when you don’t send her away. Her nails drag playfully over the thin cotton of your panties before she tugs them to the side and finds your molten heat. An illicit sob tears from your lips as she teases your dipping folds with deft fingers.

She strums your core with expertise leaving you a wanton mess in her grasp. Her thumb circles your clit with tight movements, drawing your bliss out and into the open. Your mouth drops in an ethereal sound as she takes you apart with ease.

She smothers her body over yours, her lingerie covered breasts close to spilling as she secures you against the brick wall even harder. “Such pretty sounds from such a pretty girl.”

She laves at the softness of your neck, feeling the pulsating beat beneath the thin flesh as she drowns you in pleasure. Her tongue leaves a hot, wet trail over your neck and down your clavicle as you shake under her lewd touch.

Two deft fingers curl their way into your soaked channel, spreading and molding your warmth to her liking. She rubs along your velvet walls, finding which spots make you shiver and which make you sing the loudest for her.

“It’s fun tasting the other side, isn’t it?” She asks despite your impending rapture. Her hazel eyes glimmer with wickedness. “The grime. The debauchery.”

Wet, sticky thwaps fill the room as she spreads you open. She drinks down every moan and gasp that tumbles from your lips as she fucks with her fingers you into abandon. She tips your head to her chest as she pulls one of her breasts free from a lacy lingerie cup.

“But you’re one of the good ones, aren’t you?” She claims as she feeds you a firm breast. You groan into her flesh and suckle the nipple she offers. You twirl your tongue around the pert bud and relish the soft gasp that she lets loose.

“That’s a good girl.” She praises while stroking the base of your skull and scissoring her fingers against your slick walls. Your essence drips down your thighs, staining and marking your skin but you could care less as this strange woman makes you feel things you never have before.

She hooks her fingers and grazes that spongy spot behind your clit and your body goes ridged. Every nerve in your body sings, wanting to cry out and praise her for choosing you. Your hands lock onto her shoulders, too afraid to let go, worried that if you move she’ll disappear and it’ll all have been a dream.

“It’s alright.” She coos, her eyes growing soft as your core quivers around her digits. “Let go, my precious girl. I’ve got you.”

The knot buried deep in your belly snaps. You come with a raspy wail against her chest, riding out your bliss on her fingers while she holds you in her arms.

She sucks her two cream coated fingers into her mouth and cleans them with a moan. Your mind goes numb at the image and you do your best to not crumble to her high-heeled feet.

“I must return to the party now.” She says, fixing the skull mask back over her face. She stares at you from behind the mask for a silent moment before weaving an arm around your back and tugging you with her toward the door.

“You’re not supposed to be here. This isn’t the place for someone like you. Leave while you can.” Her tone left no room for argument even though you knew you were still on the clock.

You catch yourself on the door frame and spin on your heel, catching her otherworldly gaze. “Will I see you again?”

The lady in red smiles under her mask. “One day.”

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

#verna x reader #Verna x you #Verna #the fall of the house of usher #carla gugino #verna/reader #verna/you

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rottenpumpkin13 · 6 months

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Queen’s Blood And How Its Lore Reflects/Possibly Affects The Plot

Warning: This contains spoilers for Final Fantasy VII Rebirth.

“My name is Lidrehl Balmon…and I am the creator of the game Queen’s Blood. Which means that…this nightmare is of my own making. I didn’t know. How could I? You hear her too? Time’s running out. She’s made me her prisoner. Her accursed card my shackle. The end is nigh. Or perhaps…this is only the beginning. The Shadowblood Queen is…”

• After Cloud experiences this strange vision, the NPC who he was playing against accounts how skilled players have been experiencing visions lately. To quote: “Visions in which one is visited by the ghost of the game’s creator, who speaks of portentous events. To add another wrinkle…some of the world’s very best have recently met with unnaturally violent deaths. People are calling this the Curse of Lidrehl.”

• Another strange recount from an NPC:

“After he started selling cards, he spoke of hearing a strange voice. He then withdrew from the public eye and became a recluse. No one saw him until after his death. There’s no shortage of people who’ve had their lives turned upside down by the cards. Just goes to show what a deep and captivating game it is.”

• According to Lidrehl Balmon himself, the lore behind Queen’s Blood is as follows:

“Once, there lived a queen of peerless beauty and compassion. She loved her people, and they in turn loved her. But one day, a change came over the queen. In the blink of an eye, her love turned to hate—her compassion to cruelty. Fair and beauteous though she remained, her heart became black as pitch. Conquest was now her cause, her subjects mere fodder to feed her boundless ambition. And so her kingdom grew as her people perished.

Until, that is, a ray of hope appeared—a sorceress who would be their salvation. The Emerald Witch they called her. And with her arcane powers, she led the people in rebellion, captured the queen, and put her to death. Yet from the tyrant’s body spilled blood as dark as shadow. And from this wicked ichor, the myriad fiends of the world were born.

And that... is the story of the Shadowblood Queen. Some call it a parable. A myth. A fairy tale. And I wish it were! But she is as real as you and I! And she is coming. Her resurrection is nigh. You know what must be done. She cannot be allowed to return. She must not reclaim her throne! I pray you will succeed…where I so miserably failed. You are our last hope…Cloud.”

• It’s easy to dismiss this as a story to give the card game depth, but according to Lidrehl, who’s been essentially cursed because of QB, this story is very real to the game’s world and he feels major guilt over what he’s created, blaming himself for bringing about this curse to the world.

• We later find out that this curse is very real and it turns out that Regina the QB champion has actually been possessed by the Shadowblood Queen card, but we’ll get to that later.

• When you look at the lore you can interpret it in two ways to fit both the alleged “affecting the real world” —their world, what’s happening in the game’s world—and VII’s plot.

We’ll look at the first interpretation: That the Story of the battle between the Shadowblood Queen and the Emerald Witch is referencing Jenova vs. The Cetra.

“Once, there lived a queen of peerless beauty and compassion. She loved her people, and in turn they loved her. But one day, a change came over the queen. In the blink of an eye, her love turned to hate—her compassion to cruelty. Fair and beauteous though she remained, her heart became black as pitch. Conquest was now her cause, her subjects mere fodder to feed her boundless ambition. And so her kingdom grew as her subjects perished.”

We can discern that the Shadowblood Queen was the unnamed Cetra girl who Jenova took as a host. Not to say that this character was a high-ranking person, but definitely someone who was loved and led a normal life until Jenova took over her body and began her “conquest” so to speak.

“Until that is, a ray of hope appeared—a sorceress who would be their salvation. The Emerald Witch they called her. And with her arcane powers, she led the people into rebellion, captured the queen, and put her to death.”

The Emerald Witch here would be The Cetra as a whole who sealed Jenova in the crater. There’s also a possibility that The Shadowblood Queen/The Emerald Witch could be The Planet/Jenova, but since The Cetra were the ones to defeat Jenova and The Panet’s weapons weren’t used then, we’re gonna go with The Cetra.

“Yet from the tyrant’s body spilled blood as dark as shadow. And from this wicked ichor, the myriad fiends of the world were born.”

This is likely talking about The Jenova Project that gave birth to the “fiends of the world” meaning Sephiroth (and Angeal and Genesis) which is how Jenova later comes back to nuke the planet again.

The second interpretation is that the Shadowblood Queen and The Emerald Witch are parallels to Sephiroth and Cloud.

“Once, there lived a queen of peerless beauty and compassion. She loved her people, and in turn they loved her. But one day, a change came over the queen. In a blink of an eye, her love turned to hate—her compassion to cruelty.”

This is talking about Sephiroth, who went from hero to villain, good to evil, compassion to cruelty, after the events of Nibelheim.

“Fair and beauteous though she remained, her heart became black as pitch. Conquest was now her cause, her subjects mere fodder to feed her boundless ambition. And so her kingdom grew as her subjects perished.”

This alludes to Sephiroth’s goals, to become a god, the reunion of worlds and the multiverse mindfuck he’s cooking now in the trilogy.

The Emerald Witch in this case is Cloud/ Cloud + the rest of the gang.

“Yet from the tyrant’s body spilled blood as dark as shadow. And from this wicked ichor, the myriad fiends of the world were born.”

Since the trilogy is leading to the events of Advent Children, this could be talking about the remnants and geostigma, basically other ways Jenova manifests as a pain in the ass.

• And NOW let’s talk about the part where Cloud defeats the actual Shadowblood Queen because I think that’s all but a confirmation that Queen’s Blood mirrors real life.

Lidrehl: “Through the card, she feeds on the wielder’s life force, claiming their strength, that she may one day be reborn. Countless players have succumbed to this vile curse. And now one more death is all she requires to return. Cloud…find the sorceress. She who rallied the people, she who deposed the queen—The Emerald Witch. Her card sleeps in Nibelheim, with a monster of chaos.”

• When Cloud meets a weakened Regina [the Queen’s Blood champion] again, it’s revealed that the cards really do possess the players, and that Regina is possessed by none other than the Shadowblood Queen herself who’s been sealed in the card. Regina alleges that the card’s been speaking to her and urging her to give herself to it [the card].

• While she explains this to Cloud, The Shadowblood Queen takes over Regina’s body, and her dialogue reeks of Jenova:

“I remember well this land, for it was once mine. Until that witch rallied the unwashed and put me to the sword. Well, little puppet. What do you say? A match against your queen. For you, human, have a blood debt to pay in full.”

• After Cloud defeats her in a QB match, the Emerald Witch card in Cloud’s possession flies at and stabs The Shadowblood Queen. And then The Queen almost manages to defeat Cloud and uses some more Jenova/Sephiroth-coded dialogue— “Be still, little puppet. You belong to me now!” (seriously, what is it with people trying to possess Cloud??)

• But then Vincent shows up to help and they manage to seal the queen back in the card, setting Regina free.

• I can’t help but notice how similar Regina being possessed by the card is to Cloud being controlled by Sephiroth—I mean even the queen called him a puppet. This could be another tiny hint at how the Queen’s Blood story and the story happening in the game’s plot are either connected—albeit in a smaller, subplot scale—or Lidrehl Balmon was right on the mark when he alluded to the game reflecting real life.

This isn’t a theory so much as it’s another really cool detail about Rebirth that I hope more people talk about. The use of Queen’s Blood as a parallel to Sephiroth/Cloud (and/Or Jenova/ The Cetra) is interesting since we see Cloud defeat the real Shadowblood Queen, which means Sephiroth is going to have his ass handed to him in part three lmao.

#final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ffvii #ffvii rebirth #final fantasy vii rebirth #rebirth spoilers #cloud strife #sephiroth #discussion

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xiefuyu · 1 year

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Brother, I'm here.

-- Kurokawa Izana x little sister reader

🖤 — Tokyo Revengers

📝 — spoilers from manga (around tenjiku arc), angst, mention of domestic abuse, mention of blood, mention of murder, mention of death

:a/n — I think I enjoy writing angst what do i do?? jk. hi, here's the third part. enjoy! (wc: 1.7k)

— PT. 1 / PT. 2/PT.3/PT.4/PT.5

Sano Manjiro stares at his hands. Droplets of blood and the feeling of them getting in his hands present. He felt responsible and god he did because how can he not know that he has another sibling?

Emma’s sobs broke him out of his trance and it was only then that he noticed Draken. “It..it was supposed to be me.” she cries out. “That Kisaki was about to hit me but she protected me and- and-”

“Emma, stop.” Draken softly stops her, heart aching at how the teenager is blaming herself.

But Mikey’s heart ached more when he realised that he almost had Emma dying on his back. Did that make him feel at least a bit of relief? No. Of course not. How could he when his another sibling is the one laying, holding onto dear life?

“I should’ve moved…I was there and I should’ve done something.” they heard Takemichi say but no one was blaming him. No one could’ve known what would happen at that moment except you who knew about your brother’s sick plan.

Mikey stands up, determined. “Emma, Hina-chan, stay here.” he commands and looks at Draken and Takemichi.

“We’re going. I’ll drag Izana here as if it’s the last thing keeping me alive.”

“Woah, how strong, Mikey! You’re here even after Emma’s death?” Izana asked with a wicked grin but Mikey could see it wavering. He could read those empty eyes; pleading and hope behind.

“What are you talking about, Izana? It was Y/N, our other sister who got hit.” he explains, frowning. “What…?” he hears Kakucho ask, breathless.

“What are you talking about?” he asked once again, stepping forward. “Kaku-chan, you know Y/N-san?” Takemichi asks, eyes widening. “Of course I know her! She’s Izana’s sister! What do you mean she got hit?!” Kakucho’s head whipped to where Kisaki was, blood boiling.

“She’s no sister of mine. I don’t know her.” It was the last thread that snapped loudly and hard as Kakucho stomped his way in front of his king. “She’s your sister, Izana! She’s Kurokawa Y/N!” he shouts, praying to whatever deity out there for his message to come across the kingdom that Izana built around his heart.

“How could you be so sure of that, huh? How could you be when you don’t even know that I’m blood related to no one at all?!” Mikey’s and Kakucho’s eyes widened. A simple huh coming out from their mouths.

Izana tells them how his mother told him that he’s just another son of her ex-husband with a Filipina and how he’s not Emma’s blood-related stepbrother.

But Kakucho wasn’t deterred, telling him that he should meet Y/N because she’s his blood-related sister instead.

A gunshot echoes throughout the bay, silence following.

“You’re so goddamn annoying!” they hear Kisaki say and for one moment, all Izana could think was Kakucho.

And that set of eyes that he saw earlier.

Regret bubbles in his whole body and it moved faster than his brain could comprehend as he saw Kisaki getting ready for another shot.

Three gunshots were heard this time and Izana waited for the inevitable pain to rain upon him but none came. He didn’t fall nor did he feel a bullet making his body their own home. He looks up and sees Draken gripping Kisaki’s hand, gun pointed towards the sky.

Saved.

They were saved.

“Let’s go visit Y/N, Izana. And…you’re still our big brother.” Mikey says, bowing lightly.

And for the second time that day, the king falls from his throne and onto his knees. But this time, it came with emotions dripping from his lilac eyes.

The Yokohama conflict ended with one loss- Kisaki Tetta who was run over by a truck.

The beeping sound of the heart monitor was deafening.

He did this to his sister, didn’t he? How sick and vile of him. Even though it was Emma who was supposed to get hit and die, he knows that everything was fucked up.

Kakucho had filled him with the information he got from you. He got informed that you knew he existed years ago and worked hard to earn money just so you could come to Japan and look for him. How you kept hoping to see him in every street you walked through.

How you’re looking for your big brother.

He was getting impatient. He wants you to wake up and look at that set of eyes similar to his. He was getting impatient but a voice stopped him.

Will she even accept you after what you did? After you turn your back on her?

His breath hitches and his hand longs to grip yours gently. Praying that the apologies lingering on the tip of his tongue will make their way through the tip of his fingers instead and flow into yours, interrupting you in your slumber.

He was getting impatient and he wants you to open your eyes because he wants to see them again. Because he knows there’s a possibility of you not waking up and how he won’t be able to stare back at another set of lilac eyes.

He stares at your limp hand and stops breathing altogether when they twitch. His gaze slowly racked over your form, settling on your face as he waited with bated breath for you to wake up.

But you didn’t and Izana visibly deflates, sighing before standing up to leave.

He doesn’t deserve you. You’re clearly a white paint in his black canvas and he doesn’t want your light fading.

So he does what he thinks is for the best.

Leaving you once more.

Your life wasn’t as eventful as the others. You have no experience of proper support- financially, emotionally, and physically.

Your stepmother was abusive; always taking her frustrations out on you that you got used to it. Your father doesn’t even spare you a glance while you’re getting beaten up. It was a common occurrence that it got you questioning if it’s normal in a household. (It’s not, you found out later.) Your stepmother did her best to make you think otherwise, after all.

Always saying that it’s for your own good and that she loves you that’s why she’s doing it. You were just a naive little girl new to the world you were brought in and believed in.

Not until you found out that everything in your household is fucked up. Your stepmother and father are fucked up in the head and are irresponsible shits that liked to neglect you. However, there’s a part of you that thanked your father for giving you an older brother even though it took him years to remember and finally tell you one day so casually.

With that knowledge, you found your purpose again.

Older brother.

A kuya.

Oh how you always wanted an older sibling to take care of you. To baby you and to shower you with affection. You worked again and again despite the pity looks you got for working at such a young age. Were you ten? Thirteen? Fifteen? You’re not even sure anymore.

All you could think about was escaping your shitty household and meeting your Kuya.

That’s all you ever wanted and yet, nothing was ever free to you in this godforsaken world, no? Everything and everyone around you just looks at your expectations, takes them and throws them to the ground and stomps on it for an extra measure.

Maybe it was the price for being greedy for a family. The price for being selfish, not considering how your Kuya is living and proceeding to look for him and bother him with your presence, full of scars and bruises painted by a family.

You were longing and now you’re paying the price in the form of your pounding head and blurry vision.

Your eyes wander around the vicinity you’re in. You’re in a hospital, you figured. Right, you were hit with a bat in the head. Your Kuya Mikey brought you here, hand tugging yours away from death’s own ones.

You see Emma beside you, holding your hand as she sleeps. You notice her puffy eyes and apologise to her in your mind for giving her a scare. On the sofa a few feet away was a pink-haired girl, dozing off in Takemichi’s shoulder who’s also sleeping. You look to your right and see Mikey and another guy, almost bald, looking out the window.

They’re awake. You should call for them, right?

“Kuya.” you softly called out, Mikey immediately turning to you, eyes wide and full of relief. “Hey, Y/N. How are you feeling?” you smile and do your best to nod a little. “Feeling fine.” how idiotic of you to think that Mikey will believe that.

He may have just met you days ago but he’s no fool when it comes to his siblings.

“Izana is just taking a breather outside.” he says instead of further asking you to tell him the truth. Outside where he’s currently being looked for because he decided to be an asshole once again and disappeared on you.

And yet, somehow, you knew.

You knew that Izana turned his back on you again but you can’t bring yourself to be mad. No, you are blaming yourself for his actions. You are worried because it’s currently dark outside and the possibility of him getting in danger was making your eyes tear.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed out quietly but it jolted Emma awake, making Mikey grab your hand, asking you what for while simultaneously telling you that it's not your fault and it's okay.

It's overwhelming. You want to hide, you want to run away. Is family supposed to be this reassuring? Are they supposed to be this gentle and soft? Are they supposed to wipe your tears away as they tell you over and over again that everything will be okay?

Are you supposed to feel this safe around a family?

You're too unfamiliar with these…things.

In a way, instead of being the white paint, you're the black canvas and your Kuya Mikey and Emma are the white dots, slowly spreading out with their gentleness.

Draken, Takemichi, and the pink-haired girl stood quietly, watching the Sanos reassuring you, heart aching.

Because you had to know.

You had to know that they’re not your family by blood.

And their heart aches because they’re about to rip away a family, a loving one, from you even though it still hasn’t reached your two delicate hands.

Kakucho stands outside the room with his bandaged body, tears gathering in his eyes as he vows to find Izana for you.

For the now two Kurokawa royalty in his life.

A/N: I'm currently enjoying writing this hahaha I hope you're enjoying the mini series, too, love <3

[ tag list: @bontensbabygirl ]

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers platonic #tokyo revengers spoiler #kurokawa izana x sister reader #kurokawa izana x y/n #sano manjiro x sister reader #sano emma x sister reader #xiefuyu's

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mrsrookhunt · 1 year

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Red Tulle and Satin | Pt.1

Lilia Vanrouge x Reader

Warnings: TRUE YANDERE-- No fluff nor sugarcoating. Kidnapping, swearing, Lilia is VERY out of his mind with obsession, mental illness, reader is being tortured, Lilia is drunk

MILD CHAPTER 7 SPOILER!!

"Why do you cry?" He asked, voice echoing across the dark, wet chamber you were trapped in.

You didn't have to be able to see to know that his wicked words were accompanied by an equally devilish grin, proud of the inescapable tortures he has conjured from imagination and twisted into reality.

By God, you wanted out. You were done for, were you not? You would've given anything to turn back the clock, to see the signs-- change any decision that would have led to anything but this.

The lights came on, and cast a sharp florescent light against the cave-like basement.

And then there sat Lilia, in a chair, across the room.

Giggling. Snickering. Little light-hearted laughs, at each new attempt to struggle against the magical bonds he placed upon you.

He was losing his power, true. But he had enough left yet. And he'd willingly use it all up, to the very last drop, to keep you trapped with him.

"Lilia...Please! I'm begging.. I'll do anything you fucking want.. but let me out of these bonds. They hurt," You pleaded, oozing you 20th lie that goddamn hour, to appeal to his senses.

"Haah... that's not such a bad thing. You look so pretty..."

The chair creaked as he stood up.

A flash of movement, and he was kneeling next to you, knees to the floorboards and hands on your lap, like he was praying to a statue, a statue of reverence and worth.

He sniffed your hair, your neck, your back, exhaling each time like he'd seen the height of pleasure in that moment.

His hands shook as they came up to each side of your face.

He sweeped the damp strands of hair off your forehead with trembling, sweaty fingers.

"So, so... so p-rettyyyy." He cooed.

Sweat dripped off his forehead.

"Y-you're not right, Lilia-"

He stood up shakily with a whoosh of hot air.

"Oh-? Right..? I'm not right? Does that... scare you, honey?"

His hand came up above your face in an unsteady promise of what was to come if you didn't choose your words carefully.

You fliched, but chose not to speak.

"Oh~ l-ooook at that-! You're getting it now!" He lowered his hand and fell to his knees again.

Another coo to your ear, so close you could feel his quivering breath, sweetened with alcohol.

"I'll make sure you learn your place, dear."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

-June 28th, 2023

-Kaori

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yulen-the-ghost · 5 months

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天官赐福: Tragic tale of an alternative ending.

My mind did this, I suffered and now I share my tears. 😭

Note that this has spoilers of the very end of the series and I'd say this tale has an open ending.

---

Once upon a time, in the celestial realms, there was a Flower Crown Prince who ascended to godhood thrice.

He deeply loved the Crimson Ghost King, his devoted believer since childhood. Together, they solved countless mysteries and conflicts in the heavenly realm.

The revelation that shook the three realms to their core was about the heavenly Emperor himself. It turned out that he, along many other things, was actually one of the four ghost supremes, the very reason for the Crown Prince's kingdom downfall.

Despiste defeating the wicked Emperor, victory came with a price.

To shatter the chains of the Crown Prince's true potential that they needed to win, the Crimson Ghost King sacrificed all his strength, fading away into thousands of silver butterflies while promising of his return.

The Crown Prince waited.

Even after everyone else had given up hope that his lover would return, the Crown Prince continued to wait. After all, it took 800 years for them to be together the first time, and he was prepared to wait even longer if necessary.

One year passed.

Then a hundred.

Many gods perished and were vanished.

A thousand years.

Many don't even know who this elder Prince is waiting for.

Many thousands of years went by.

Some even ceased to pray to the gods.

And to this day, he still waits. With a soft smile on his face and a heart full of kindness, he waits.

This is why the Flower Crown Prince that resides in his garden is called "the god of loyalty," "the god of devotion," "the god of love," "the god of hope," and "the unfortunate angel".

And so, like an unwithering flower, he stands, graceful and serene, patiently awaiting the return of his beloved butterfly.

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lilas · 2 months

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inconceivably wip wednesday again

o/ tagging @scionshtola @galadae @myreia @thevikingwoman @fooltofancy @impossible-rat-babies @birues and anyone else who wants to join, please feel free to tag me so I see your work!

[shadowbringers spoilers ahead]

A continuation of a wip where Avi’li struggles against the light aether and also Emet-Selch is there making it worse.

—

“Your genuine concern is touching,” Avi’li grounds out, “and I’m fine as you can see.”

“Of course, perfectly fine.” Emet-Selch says, unbelieving, “perfectly fine and not hiding in a far flung corner to suffer peacefully. Looking pathetic and pitiable is part of your masterfully crafted facade to disguise that you are, at the core of it all, perfectly fine.” Avi’li closes his eyes and turns his face away into his shoulder, but it does not stop the verbal onslaught. “I was promised a great comedy, Hero, not this tired tragedy, and yet,” Emet-Selch lowers his hands, palms raised to Avi’li and spreads his arms, “you can barely stand let alone seek out any remaining Lightwarden.”

Emet-Selch rhythmically taps his chin, head tilting to the side, “What shall become of this hollow reflection now I wonder?” His stops the tapping and directs a sallow frown at Avi’li. “And why are you laughing, pray tell?”

Avi’li covers his mouth with his hand, a wicked grin spreading between the spaces of his fingers. His laugh is weak and scratchy.

“Ayunno, you just sound like you want me to succeed is all. You’re weirdly invested for a big bad Ascian,” Avi’li drops his voice deeper for those last words, and grins sharply.

#i don’t know where this is going #but it’s gonna get uncomfy #lilas wips #ffxiv wips #wip whenever

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eruscreaminginthedistance · 7 months

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Ugh it's taken me like a week to post this because reformatting PF posts on my phone is a bitch so I'm gonna throw this out here so that i don't put it off any longer; my Dune Part 2 review.

Basically, I feel like I'm living through a Category 5 LOTR event in real time. I was worried going into the second film that I was overhyped and that I should temper my expectations; speculative fiction adaptations 9 times out of 10 are usually dead on arrival and Dune Part 1 already defied the odds for being as good as it was for an almost 1-to-1 recreation.

I feel like after this I could confidently trust Denis Villeneuve with my life. The man's not really making a product. He clearly LOVES sci fi. Respect for the source material oozes out of every scene of Dune, and his little tweaks and changes are done with care and with a sense of critically engaging with the story that shows real thought.

Praying to the gods that once Denis finishes the trilogy he brings out a boxset DVDs with at least three behind the scenes DVDs MINIMUM. I need to see every single aspect of production on this leviathan of a project and then ritualistically watch all three movies back to back as I would with LOTR.

Spoilers under the cut

In terms of what I liked:

I've only read the first two books in full - Children and God Emperor are next on my list to finish this year - so I can't speak as an uber knowledgeable Dune nerd who knows the books back to front, but I'm very confident when I say that Denis's changes to the source material didn't take away from the experience of the story at all.

- Chani's probably the biggest change of all in the sequel and oh my god does it revitalise her character. I was quite shocked scrolling through tags to see book readers complain about how much the movie changed her and her arc. What are they mad about? That they gave Chani something to do other than sucking Paul's dick? In the book, literally everyone is 100% behind Paul uncritically accepting every single thing he does and Chani is just one of a swarm of characters that do that. I say this with much love because I like her book counterpart but I struggle to understand the people who claim to be so invested in book Paul and Chani's dynamic as opposed to the film's when book Chani's whole character is "Wife", until Dune Messiah when she gets the "Nagging Wife" upgrade. Denis's version effectively makes her co-protagonist with Paul and it was so exciting to see that play out on screen. She became the moral litmus test and the last vestige of uncorrupted ideals in the movie; Paul's descent into fascism and betrayal of the Fremen would not have hit nearly as hard if everyone went along with it like in the book.. I really felt for Chani having to watch everyone she knows get swept up in this insane fervour. She's too dedicated to the concept of freedom to fall for the bullshit and that was such a relief ti witness. Film Chani is her own character, not just another limb of Paul's, so her story is going in a slightly different direction and I'm really excited to see that. Would not have been nearly as hyped if her whole arc was just going to be "be pregnant. die" again.

- Jessica being an absolute FREAK. She was probably my favourite character from the book and I was so pissed she wasn't in Dune Messiah. I needed to get inside her head and wiggle around in there while I was reading, and Denis fed me. In the book, I got the impression she was quite a passive participant in the prophecy, so getting to see her go full wicked witch in the film was a massive highlight. Speaking to Alia in the womb, her sinister use of The Voice (such a horrific departure from her only using it for self defence in Part 1), her FASHION. Denis needs to adapt her into Dune Messiah I refuse to watch a version of Messiah without Jessica in it.

- Stilgar came out of nowhere with the steel chair for me. The first book is filled back to back with noble fatherly leader figures so he got very lost in the shuffle and I didn't really pay attention to him that much beyond being one of Paul's many mentors. I read a tiny bit of Children before watching Part 2 and Stilgar seriously considering murdering Paul's children made me do a double take. Then seeing him in this movie blew me away. Guys I think I've slept on Stilgar all this time xD. Not gonna lie though, the film beefs up his character quite a lot from the books. I think it was a good decision to make him comedic relief, because it offsets that "religious fundamentalist" element that could put people off. It makes him much softer and more likeable. He's just a guy with big hopes and big dreams and a big heart who's a bit silly sometimes, and that makes him the ultimate prey for Paul and Jessica. It's absolutely sickening to see them exploit his sincere faith and beliefs and I'm getting upset now just thinking about all the horrific things he'll be lead to do. Denis did a fantastic job of making him a more sympathetic and softer character for people to compare with his post-timeskip Space Hitler's Right Hand Man role.

- Introducing Princess Irulan early hell yeah!! Huge improvement on the book imo; she was very much a dark horse character for this film and Florence Pugh nailed it. I loved her being the narrator much like in the book, and it was interesting to see her contribute to putting the pieces in place for the endgame, rather than just turn up at the end. More of her please, Denis!

- One of my complaints about the first film was that there wasn't enough Harkonnen action, specifically the Harkonnen-Atreides rivalry, which was talked about a bit but not really shown. Denis made all those Harkonnen scenes specifically for me. I adored the balls to the wall aesthetics and the incredibly villainous acting. This film isn't afraid of moustache twirls and villainous laughter and I LOVE that. It felt fresh. Villains who just love doing bad shit and aren't even trying to justify themselves they just LOVE being horrible creatures in their black stone murder palaces.

- What can I say about the look of the film. You've all seen it. If you haven't then go fix that. It's one of the most visually cohesive and stunning films I've seen in a long time. I don't know how a world can feel so real and yet unreal (/pos) at the same time.

- Hans Zimmer showed the fuck UP for this score. I've been listening to it nonstop all weekend. I kinda miss the Atreides bagpipes but the new horns drive me insane so it's a good tradeoff.

Things I'm on the fence about:

- I think it was a good call to remove the whole thing with Paul uh, inheriting Harah from Jamis. It gave more screentime to Chani and I think would have really put viewers off Paul when really you wanna keep people going in blind rooting for him until the third act. BUT I was surprised she wasn't in the film at all? I was convinced that the lady we see Chani talking with was supposed to be an adapted Harah, but I'm seeing everywhere online that that's not supposed to be her and Harah wasn't in the film? Why not? It just felt a bit weird that she's just some nameless Fremen.

- I'm not gonna lie I forgot Thufir existed on my first watch. I think me not missing him overall is a good sign. I didn't rewatch part 1 so I guess I assumed they'd killed him off in the Arrakeen attack, and didn't realise his part had been cut until I saw an article about it later. That was kind of disappointing. While I think the film is perfectly fine without him, I think the inclusion of his plot as kind-of prisoner kind-of strategist for the Harkonnens would have really solidified the Harkonnen-Atreides rivalry. Again because we almost never see an Atreides and Harkonnen onscreen together, so having him there to exemplify it in practice I think could have just polished things up for me personally. But also I want all films to be 5 hours long so what do I know.

- Jessica and Chani didn't interact nearly as much as I wanted them to tbh. I'm hoping that Dune Messiah beefs up their relationship.

- Timothee Chalamet

Things I didn't like:

- Not Paul btw, just Timothee

- Been saying this since the first movie but him and Zendaya were really only cast cos they're hot ticket items right now, not because they have the look and feel of the characters or the world; they just wanted to cast some hot supermodels in the roles

- Zendaya justifies her casting though by being the better actor though; I was sceptical but I came to buy her as Chani and she did a good job resonating with me

- Timothee's just a guy though, wasn't impressed

- Which is a huge problem because the emotional throughline of the movie is their romance and I just. Did not buy it. Timothee could not have paid me to believe that he was in love with Chani. They were like the definition of everybody's beautiful but nobody's horny. Just saying words with their blank hot faces. At least Zendaya put some effort in.

Anyway 10/10. This is going in my top 5 movies of all time and is one of the best book to screen adaptations I have ever seen.

#dune #dune part 2 #crossposting #pillowfort

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ladyduellist · 2 months

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Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Tensions rise before the unlikely travelers enter the monastery.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 19: Gods

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word count: 5.5k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Language, Act 1 Spoilers

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

I write this in haste as the githyanki attack.

Our forces have been exhausted and we will all be dead by day’s light.

The lance has failed and so have our pleas.

Kind stranger, if you find this note, please know I have prayed for you.

— Novice Monk, last words written on his inner forearm in ink

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Folklores have a knack for possibly foretelling a person’s future, molded with lessons in mind. Sketched orations implanted within the mind’s eye, traditionally passed down.

But, what lessons—what excuses—were to be instilled after the atrocities the Crèche Y’llek githyanki inflicted on Rosymorn Monastery, especially when there were no survivors left to tell the tale?

Death had abounded and it claimed more than the previous worshiping inhabitants. It came for the wall mosaics whose chipped pigments had fallen into lifeless heaps upon skeletal laps following their demise. Its veil, hushed away lost voices that chanted as lamp wicks were lit. Even toppled over cups of wine, that soaked and stained neglected tables, were unable to escape the vagarious phantom’s euthanizing stroke.

“This place is deader than I am,” Astarion mused, kicking aside what appeared to be a femur bone with the tip of his boot. “Shame, I was looking forward to a livelier welcome.”

He found himself stalking around a statue dedicated to Lathander, situated in front of the old monastic building portico, wondering if this god had been one of the many that didn’t respond to his prayers while he was being psychologically marred and beaten endlessly. Nearly forgotten generations seemed to be lost to another version of himself as he disdainfully stared up at the stoned infant with a gold metal sun orbiting its body affixed in the dawn lord’s grasp, signifying renewed births. His eyes traveled lower, to the end of the god form’s flawless marble tunic folds, noticing a carved skull pressed heroically beneath its foot. He briefly turned his head away, scoffing at the absurdity of such a visual odium.

Even the undead must suffer your ruling that they are unworthy of saving, Astarion thought, frowning. It was pointless to beseech the mute supreme vessel, knowing not even a rebuttal would be granted to his rightful questions over the gods lack of mercy.

Inferior soul, how do you cry out,

Knowing no one will hear you.

With blurred light and seeping dark,

Hope dangling on words that do not reach.

His attention turned to Lae’zel as she maneuvered her body in front of an upright banner she discovered, tracing her sinewy fingers along symbols drawn into its hide. “Tir’su script. Kin is close,” she noted ,”Perhaps further inside this insipid place.”

Shadowheart cast a subdued yellowish light—enough to read the script—on top of the hanging animal skin. “Your language. What does it say?”

“Vlaakith’ka sivim hrath krash’ht. Only in Vlaakith may we find light,” Lae’zel responded with pride, letting her fingers loiter above the scrawlings.

Astarion abandoned his quest cursing the Morninglord, approaching the two women in a sly stride. “So, the gith replaced those doing works for one god, with their own. I suppose our civilizations aren’t totally incomparable in that regard. We all do have a tendency to make everyone acknowledge that in which we worship, don’t we?” he wise cracked.

“Githyanki do not worship any gods nor follow religion. We venerate Vlaakith and to forsake her means we become the blood and meat for which she sates her dragons,” Lae’zel corrected. “The people here didn’t survive because they were weak. Weak minded and weak of brawn. Not because my people meant to ideologize them to our credence.”

His arms folded against his chest, deviously rising a thick brow. “Oh dearest Lae’zel, you don’t have to belong to a religion to be religious. Whatever that you hold in highest faith is your god.”

The gith fighter growled as she fiercely advanced towards Astarion, her cinnamon hair vibrant in the sun’s path. She pointed a single elongated nail at him. “Argh! You know nothing of what you speak anymore than you know about my queen! And you are wasting time by casting your ideas about this world’s ideologies into our conversation!”

Up close, her slitted irises seemed to open wider, like a crack in the earth beckoning him into a citrine mine. It was oddly riveting to the spawn how naïve the githyanki were about the material plane despite them using it to cultivate their crèches. Prematurely in their journey, Lae’zel informed the crew this was because they chose to disengage entirely from other ethnicities due to them possibly “tainting” their society. Everything to the gith became a means to an end, including their propensity to be certifiably evil by most standards.

But for all the destruction the slender astral plane-dwellers committed on the living plane, they proved to be the only race capable of continually decimating illithids, halting their grand design.

However, a part of him could not—albeit infelicitous—wholly begrudge them for their attitude involving strangers. The gith had only known the claws of enslavement to the mind flayers for generations until their subjugated chains were broken, a situation all too familiar to him. He understood how trust can turn into an abstraction under those conditions, eavesdropping like a floating dandelion seed on its conceptual edge.

“I think that’s quite enough,” Shadowheart intervened with ambivalence laced in her tone. A dispelled cantrip, that was assuredly prepared for them if they persisted in their bickering, fizzled out in her palm. “In case you’ve both forgotten, we are being hunted by the same people that may also have a cure for these cursed worms in our heads. Time is not on our side, so either we shut up and work together or we might as well do ourselves a favor and kill each other off now.”

He viewed the cleric from his peripherals, scarlet irises aglow in jouissance. “As you wish. Thinking outside the box isn’t for everyone anyways,” he mumbled in a gibe.

Shadowheart disregarded the vampire, refocusing their conversation onto more productive measures. “Lae’zel, what can we expect once inside this crèche?”

Lae’zel herded her concentration sluggishly away from Astarion. “They will be on high alert, probably seeking information about the artifact weapon. Your presence alone is going to cause skepticism, so do not expect them to have mercy if you get out of line.”

The healer nodded, patting the purse containing the icosahedron prism fastened onto her hip. “And how exactly are we to safely enter without them attacking on sight?”

“They will receive me with no issue, but you three will have to roleplay as my servants if we are to peruse their compound,” Lae’zel decisively advised, gesticulating between Shadowheart, him, and the bard that was in the near distance behind him.

Now that Astarion pondered it, Tav had remained eerily quiet since they reached the derelict building. His ears perked back, listening for any signs of movement from her.

Ah. There.

The songtress’s lissome boot soles reverently landed, crunching over the littered ground, likely scrounging about on one of her many humanitarian crusades examining the obvious holy edifice’s monstrosities. Really, he had come to distinguish all his traveling allies' footsteps apart, but he would only find himself drollingly smirking particularly at Tav’s beats. While she held tightly onto her deepest inner thoughts like a hyper judgemental woman clutching her pearls, her mood was always evident through her footfalls. A heavy scuff typically meant she was angered. Soft quick pitterings were often created during her busiest chores in camp. Or, the most curious of them all: the choreo-esque silken soar of her feet as she played the lute. Curious because she rejected the idea of dancing, but it was so prevalent in the way she moved—the way she fought.

Tav’s familiar heartbeat meandered closer to them, out in that stygian sea upon the unpleasant waters of her thoughts. Those numerous abnormal pulses that led nowhere, on the outskirts from where he was positioned. Sounds that made his mouth a watering delinquent portal to which he almost lacked the discipline to stop himself from placing the flat of his ravening tongue against her chirring arteries.

“Servants?! I am certainly not agog over that,” the vamp spluttered out as he indignantly threw up his arms.

“‘Star,” Tav greeted him quietly as pewter shaded buckles from her rapier scabbard faintly brushed against his side when she finally appeared.

He rotated his head, studying Tav’s profile carefully. Her skin, still somewhat wan from his earlier feeding, held onto fresh drizzly beads of sweat along her hairline. A sunken seam deepend horizontally on her forehead as her gaze epoxied itself to Lae’zel. Something was on her mind, cysts filled with fluidic profundities that began to gestate as they embarked into the monastery.

Leftover wafting traces of coppery blackberries from his bite wound on Tav, rose from her flesh like an exorcism, injecting into his nostrils when he inhaled. There was a certain amount of pride he felt as a man, knowing his fang marks were seated into her delicate neck. A consensual hunter and prey dynamic that tickled his nightly creature’s base instincts imagining her running beautifully through a thick forest for him to capture, her sighing and sighing and sighing his name. Perhaps he would ask her one day to—gods, he must still be reeling off the potency from her stimulative blood.

“And where have you been, songbird? Leaving me all on my own to babysit these two bores, tsk,” he teased, inflecting his tone an octave higher.

“You can take it out of your blood tax later,” the bard suggested, struggling to exert a fleeting chuckle. She looked up at him. “Mind if I cut in?”

Grateful for the interruption, he nodded. “Then, how could I say no? By all means.” He held out his gloved hand, palm up, giving her the opportunity to purge her mentations.

Tav sucked in a breath, then gradually released it. “They’re all…dead. Every monk, every pilgrim—deceased. And this was all done for the sake of constructing a crèche?” she steadily broached, wasting no time in getting straight to what was disturbing her. “Lae’zel, what did the people here do to deserve such a sentence?”

Discovering in person just what the githyanki were capable of, coupled with a drafty air that had coagulated with whistling gusts leading the imagination to believe it was the spirit's moaning screams yet wandering the monastery’s halls, would change the dialogue for anyone—especially Tav. Astarion realized how dangerously stupid it was for her meddlesome lectures to take precedence now when there wasn’t a godsdamned thing they could do about the age-old murderous scene. Repeatedly poking the wasp’s nest—Lae’zel included—meant that a remorseless horde of gith would be released upon them sooner rather than later.

He leaned down, lips an inch away from the backside of Tav’s ear. “What are you doing?!” he breathed through gritted teeth.

Tav didn’t respond, but instead knocked her hip into his, pushing him aside. He scudded back a couple feet from the force, leaving him at a loss for words. If she is hellbent on being stubborn, then she can deal with her crippling demise on her own, he chided to himself.

Lae’zel’s sight narrowed at the elf. “It had nothing to do with what they deserved, but everything to do with being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Let’s hope your next words are sharper than your mind,” she clucked loudly.

“Insulting me while I’m trying to understand what happened here isn’t going to deter me,” Tav replied, her reddening ears poking out from her messy updo in a curbed anger hidden to everyone except Astarion. “Travelers came here searching for answers to their prayers and the explanation they received was their lives snuffed out by a race that feels as superior as false gods.”

“Tav, you’re—“ Shadowheart cautiously began, stepping forward.

“I’m what?! Going too far?” Tav mocked, shifting her body weight onto another leg.

Those leaden fissures Tav tried to keep knitted closed, had volleyed the bitter dark within her that had been progressively increasing for weeks. She never treated people this way—patience rarely thinned—and Astarion understood his judgment about the burdens she carried that changed the formulaic taste of her crimson, were correct. Her annoying kindness suited her more than this unseemly behavior. In the aery realm that housed her encumbrances, she paid for his and their companion’s indiscretions to demonic toll-houses without question. A regretful muscle twitched in his cheek, recognizing he played a part in her present suffering. Birds like Tavelle were meant to fly, but everyone took advantage of her tender mercy, devoid of thinking about how shattered her wings would become under their own roods.

“I know you’re upset—and you should be—but Lae’zel had nothing to do with Y’llek’s aggressions. Your blame is misplaced,” Shadowheart tried again after removing a stray hair that had crept into her mouth.

Tav turned her head, overcome with embarrassment that flushed the roundest parts of her cheeks.

The gith puffed out a short breath, rolling her war torn eyes. “What would you have me say? Attaining somewhere on the material plane we deem to be safe for our young and unhatched to develop is completely normal in our culture.“

Dense air sourly blew through the bard’s nose. “But at the cost of our plane’s lives, right? What is normal to your kind is not normal to ours. Have you ever thought about that?” she contended more politely, refacing Lae’zel. “This is wrong to us! If only your people would try seeking help from ours, rather than raiding their homes and murdering innocents immediately, you may be surprised how many would be willing to offer their aid.“

“And should that mean something to me?” Lae’zel bit out emotionless. “Githyanki do what is necessary to survive.” She held a balled up fist tightly against her chest as she drew a path into Tav’s personal space. “When I was still but a welp in training, I had already felled three of my comrades. Was I praised or reprimanded for such feats? No. They died proud, honored to have served Vlaakith and the cause of her people. Can you say in good faith that most of Faerûn would do the same?”

All three companions regarded Lae’zel glumly. Her accusations against their continent’s residents was an uncomfortable realization that nobody in their sane mind could refute. How many other adventurer’s were actually out there at this very second willing to brave their own lives to end the corruption of The Absolute and mind flayers alike? How many would risk confronting that disquieting underbelly of fears that the gods they forfeited everything to, would never intervene, even as a holocaust roared throughout the lands? The hard truth was that most would rather go with the flow in their complacency than try to act out of real conviction.

That kolk whirling behind Tav’s blue-steel eyes from their boiling exchange, began to become little more than a single stir by a divine empress’s gilded spoon in a favorite cup of tea. By the way she sucked in her cheek, Astarion knew she had grabbed a chunk of wetted flesh to gnaw upon, calming herself from making a rash remark. Her mouth unlatched. “I will not disagree with your sentiments about how disunified Faerûn remains, but it’s still our choice to make. Ripping that away from us because the githyanki feel it’s okay, is no different from the control the illithid held over your race, it’s just executed differently.”

Was she prepared for the aftermath if she kept pushing?

“Hey.” Shadowheart discreetly tapped on the spawn’s shoulder. He turned around, vaguely listening to Tav and Lae’zel resume their argument, mouthing an irritated “what” as voicelessly as he could muster.

“We are about to enter enemy territory and I have a stolen treasure from them in my bag,” the Sharran healer whispered. Her anxiety was evident in the way her glassy blown pupils stared back at him, nearly twitching with fright over what lay in store for them. “If you think for even a second they’re going to allow us to enter their crèche while tensions are high, then prepare to be beheaded for sport.”

He shrugged his shoulders, still mildly irked at Tav. “Then I guess we’ll have to wait until they both stow this fribblish nonsense or one of them incapacitates the other,” Astarion hushed in return.

Shadowheart shook her head, her perfectly styled ponytail accessories moving in tandem with her movement. “Or you could be their mediator,” she suggested with a crafty smile.

“Have you gone and smacked your moody undersized head on a Selûne statue?!” he snapped louder than intended. A silver curl uncoiled in haste, matching his incredulity. “You saw how Tav reacted when we tried to reason with them.” He instinctually peeked beyond his arm, checking to see if the others overheard them.

“For god’s sake, would you at least try?! I don’t care if you have to throw Tav over your shoulder like some neanderthal to drag her away, but they need to be separated so they can both cool down!” Shadowheart uncharacteristically begged while the other two women continued their squabble. Her lips pouted together. “And my head isn’t ‘undersized.’ I didn’t ask to be born as a half-elf you know,” she added, self-consciously touching her crown.

Astarion’s fingers rubbed at his temples. This was wholly Tav’s fault! In a moment of weakness, fantasizing about drinking her blood earlier, the cunning vixen snuck in and somehow persuaded him to accompany them to this devil-ridden location. And now, he’s expected to wave a wand like some magical fairy eldmother to make everything cheery bright rainbows again?!

No matter how inconvenient this was, he definitely wasn’t interested in perishing so early on into his attained freedom. He understood that Tav would be the easier of the two lionness’s pouncing on each other to lure away given her affinity towards him. She may be pissed at him afterwards, but it was the lesser risk between that and Lae’zel hanging his head as an ornament above her tent. “Ugh, do I have to do everything around here?” he flung out, feigning a yawn.

He scratched at his jaw, trying to wrinkle the matter in his brain together from its usual smoothness. Which tactical options did he have? Flirtily suggesting a threesome while a plethora of vacant skeletal crania’s watched, seemed inappropriate for their dilemma. He could pull out a knife and threaten them to cease, but knowing Lae’zel’s temper, she would stake his ribs the moment she saw it. Blackmail? Hmm, no, that was out of the question too. Tav barely offered up anything about her private life and Lae’zel could escape to the astral world whenever she pleased. Fuck he hated details and sticky complicated plans.

Alright, fine, he’d just go with ole reliable: winging it.

“I’ll stand by in case things go…amiss,” Shadowheart said placidly. “Good luck.”

He briefly shut his eyes, hand sailing through his waves to refix the stray hair coil tarrying on his forehead, and readied himself as acting liaison to enter the mine field exploding behind him.

Lae’zel stepped inward near Tav, armor clanking around her midsection. “It’s no wonder Astarion finally decided to leave your bed,” she maliciously taunted, ”With all your unceasing blathering, it leaves little room for warmth.” She slanted further in, speaking directly into her rival’s ear. “Tell me which is true: that you actually duped yourself into believing you gave him gratification or he faked it the entire time because he pitied your loneliness?”

Astarion instantly squinted at Lae’zel, revulsed at her upturned sneer. He despised her obtrusiveness, remembering how she made it clear she only desired his body at one time to satisfy herself. The back of his neck felt clammy imagining how her gropes would have branded his raw flesh like every other person he pressured himself into fucking.

He dragged his vision to chance peering at Tav, dismissing the muffled constriction that surged through his chest at the sight of her. She stood utterly silent, vocal cords snipped from the seething woman’s comment. Without a tourniquet to halt Lae’zel’s gashes, her lips had heated to a bolder pinkish plum shade, doe eyes rapidly blinking aside a misty haze. Astarion heard her heart chambers clamp tightly, fractured by the usurped recollection of their flawed and failed relationship pricking into her like a pincushion.

A pleased grin spread across Lae’zel’s mouth as she scanned the bard’s reaction. Her pitch coal grease paint, thumbed onto the scope of her face, appeared glossy from the sunlight beaming on her. “If this ishtik falls apart at the slightest mention of her inadequacies, then she is unfit to lead us,” she snarled.

Despite him refusing to divulge the specifics from his trauma, sex had become a sensitive subject for both him and Tav. Centuries long transgressions that damned him every waking second. They shared a vulnerability—an elegy to pleasurable touch—that connected them in an unexpected and broken manner initiated by different needs.

Messy flashbacks of his sexual encounters with Tav that had already been fading—as they often did with his lovers—percolated throughout the vampire’s mind. As vehemently as he tried to bury it, one memory resisted against the gravitational pull from the black hole within his soul: her giggles as florets spilled like dove feathers from her hair while they were intimate against a tree. A rare innocent pause that counterbalanced his despair but for a few moments.

In his restless trances, those flowers would sometimes arrive, each hidden in inconspicuous locations within his dreams to find. They were often accompanied by Tav’s sweet laughter that he caused. It dawned on him how often he would chase after that sound until he woke, trying to relive that brief interim of genuine mirth he summoned from her throat. He ignored it until now, but he had never generated that kind of joy from a sole creature in his entire undeath. Regardless if that night in the woods had led to them sleeping together or not, she would have still had the same reaction if he made those trite blooms flounce out of her hair in any other way.

He suddenly found himself wanting to protect those epiphanies and the peculiar agreeable sensation within his life-deserted body that he was aghast to identify. When did his general antipathy towards Tav start to evolve into him not quite disliking her as much anymore?

Astarion pretended to cough into his fist, cutting through their quarrel. “I do believe you and I need to exchange a few unpleasantries,” he firmly stated with a guileful tug at his mouth.

“Do we? Then speak,” Lae’zel growled in her usual raspy tone, spindly hands landing onto her hips. She squinted her left eye at him.

“I’ll make this quick.” The ground held unwavering paces as he sidled up to the astral soldier. He tilted his head to the side, rubbing his impeccable jawline with his thumb peeking out from his fingerless gauntlets. “Don’t you perhaps think you should be more concerned about why it was I who rejected you that day after our spar when you practically begged me to take you back to my bedroll for a romp?” he blatantly expressed, glaring at her through darkened eyes. “Pity Tav? Ha! No, darling. I pitied you and that’s why I let you down as politely as I did.”

The hammering from behind Shadowheart’s breast clogged his ears. An “ah, shit” drawled off her tongue, shocked and worried.

Tav's hand covered a gasp as her enlarged eyes sharply turned to gaze at him, exerting no amusement at his smug jab.

As for Lae’zel’s reaction, she gnashed her teeth so raucously together, she could have broken through a mollusk's shell. Astarion staggered back just as a flurry of words in her native language raced from her voice box, faltering but once to catch her breath. She pointed at the group: cursing, spitting, putting her hand onto the lengthy grip of her sword, removing it, until she angrily threw her arms up in defeat. “After we extract the tadpoles,” she heaved, “I never want to see any of you ever again. Be grateful I will allow you to live yet.” Neglecting to wait for their responses, she tilled her battle sandals into the ground, disappearing into an unventured area adjacent to the portico.

Frowning, Shadowheart cleared her throat. “Tav, mind if I borrow Astarion for a minute?”

“Sure,” Tav croaked out. She looked past the cleric at the nondescript foreboding entrance into the monastery, giving the doors a simple head flick to notify them where she planned on retreating.

He clocked Tav as she weaved a route through scattered rubble, leaving their vicinity. “Who knew I had such natural chops as a peace—”

Shadowheart twisted to meet him, rabidly grabbing at the straps attached to his breastplate and pulled downwards. “You donkey!’

His hands flew up on either side of his head. “Whoa! What exactly is the problem? You should be thanking me. Per your request: they aren't fighting anymore.”

“I didn’t ask you to make it worse!” Shadowheart exclaimed, tightening her hold. “I don’t know if your meal ticket from earlier super infused your bluntness, but with the utmost generosity, would you kindly fuck off for a bit so I can think about how to resolve this? Go check on Tav.” She released the straps, propelling him backwards.

“How rude! You know, all this excitement has made me work up another appetite and I can’t feed on Tav again until she’s rested. What do you have to say for yourself?” Astarion taunted, letting his fangs poke out beneath his weasel’s smile.

“GO!” Shadowheart shouted, balling her fists.

The songstress was leaning against a cool stoned wall, embellished with grayish tiles, when he eventually made his way to her after refitting the crookedness in his chest piece. “The gall of that woman, honestly,” he complained, sending an accusatory glance over his shoulder at a pacing Shadowheart. “You do a favor for someone and when it’s not exactly how they would have done it, they blame you for the outcome.”

Tav knocked her thumb knuckles together, nails clicking in unison. “Why did you stick up for me with Lae’zel?”

“I wanted to help?”

“Don’t lie to me,” she said, raising her head to scrutinize him.

Astarion cocked his hip out, resting his hand on it. He had no intentions disclosing to her what was stroking his dead heart, that palpable echo of flowers and laughter betraying him. “Can’t you just appreciate that I probably saved you from becoming a ‘minced bard pie’? I don’t see why you have to make this more complicated than it already was,” he groused.

She blinked at him. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, turning her neck. “I do appreciate what you did back there, it just wasn’t…expected, I suppose.”

“I can be generous,” he asserted, crossing his arms.

Tav gave a snide chuckle. “News to me.”

“See, if you needed further proof that you need some time to release all those built up gremlins inside you, that was it,” he smirked, playfully tapping the tip of her shoe with his boot.

A simper quivered at the corners of her lips, one she seemed like she was trying to hide by immediately squatting down near the doors next to them, hovering over two pairs of remains. She reached down to pick up an age-tarnished prayer book that was loosely crammed between one of the skeleton’s fingers.

Tav stood back up, smile replaced with a distant melancholy. She patted the book’s front cover. “May I read something to you?”

“Are you going to read a prayer for my salvation?” the pale elf mused, indenting his index into the middle of his chin.

The book opened with her diligent fingers. Pages turned with crisp crackles, frictioning against old endpaper glue, as she read its contents to him. “Glory to you, Bringer of the Dawn! My wife and I have been trying to conceive for nearly two years now with no luck. We’ve long been followers of your blessed creed, and visit Rosymorn every tenday to worship at your altar.”

She took a breath, then continued. “Please Lord, I know you’ve given us a lot already, but if you hear our prayer, grant us this one wish, and you will find us in your service tenfold. This is all that now stands between ourselves and everlasting joy. We have faith in you, Lathander, and are grateful for the many blessings of your light.”

Astarion hoisted his right eyebrow in disbelief. “Don’t tell me that’s what rattled you? All that drama earlier because you read a flimsy supplication from some dust-covered bones?”

“It wasn’t my intention for things to get out of hand as they did with Lae’zel,” she lamented. Beneath every pronounced word, a shakiness started to emerge in her voice. “But the contents of this book had nothing to do with my disagreement with her.”

He padded closer to her. “Then, what was the purpose of reading that husband and wife’s prayer to me? They’re dead and it’s apparent that the gods couldn’t have cared less about granting that couple their wishes,” Astarion mentioned, glimpsing down at the deteriorating book. “I should know; I prayed to them all.”

“This isn’t about the damned gods!” Tav blurted out in frustration. She let the prayer book slip from her grasp, landing askew onto a bed of pebbles. “Years ago, I had to accept—“ she stalled.

He inspected her, tilting his head curiously. The visage that took place on her face was similar to when she spoke to Mayrina shortly after they sent Auntie Ethel to the hells: an intense, almost withdrawn, stare. He recognized that expression, how rigid her whole person had become that day. How different she acted after seeing Mayrina’s belly round with child. “‘Had to accept’ what?” he asked.

Clenching her eyes shut, she shook her head. “Nobody knows what happened to me that day. I just want somebody to know,” she managed to whisper, contrite over her verbally collected thoughts.

“Darling, I have to admit, your whole mysterious lady act is going way over my head this time,” he said, perplexed. Respecting their terms to avoid touching each other as minimally as possible, he skimmed just the tips of his fingers along the outer edge of Tav’s shoulder, bidding her to look at him.

Under his contact, she jerked ever so slightly as if finally noticing his proximity. “S-sorry. Gods, I must sound crazy,” she huffed nervously, lungs stammering as her breathing increased. “Astarion, I want to trust someone so badly that I ache, b-but I can’t. Even now, as I tried, everything still turned to ash on my tongue.”

Her admission stunned him, never being one to divulge the weaknesses she kept at bay. “Hold on. Take a few deep breaths.”

Lash after lash lifted, revealing Tav’s set of bleary dilated vesseling eyes that bore into his. Her sternum rose and fell, respiring their common air. “I wanted somebody—no, not somebody—I wanted you to know.”

“Why?”

Tav’s hand moved in a way like she wanted to grab his hand, but instead let it slink back. “Because you’re the only one I’ve ever felt might understand,” she confessed.

Stricken with a salvelike buzz dawning through his consciousness, Astarion couldn’t resist tucking dark brown hair strands behind her ear. Red eyes traced a circular outline of her freckles that mesmerized him so. His pitch lowered to a woolly undertone unnatural to him, balmy and wicking her ills. “You really are reckless, aren’t you?”

The upper bow of Tav’s lips parted from the bottom, a blush rushing northward into her cheekbones. He could feel her lukewarm breath exhale into the dip of his clavicle while she examined his face, provoking a tense quake descending his spine. “Is that your way of saying you’re concerned about me?” she crooned.

“Stupid boy,” Cazador’s taunt resounded in his brain.

Emotions careened through him as dead leaves being whisked aside by an autumn wind, reluctantly revealing a new growth until being blanketed in death once more. Astarion’s hand quickly retracted, realizing he made a vital mistake. “I—,” he began, flustered, unsuccessfully quelling the contortions in his stomach. Anxiety raged through him, tingling his skin in a domino effect. “Will you just go shove off somewhere for a bit?!”

Tav backed away. Crestfallen. Betrayed. Shifting her eyes back and forth as her skin pinched between her brows. He dipped his chin, shunning himself for every time he felt a modicum of emotion towards her.

Her back turned on him, beginning to trudge in the direction of a broken stained-glass pane. “Don’t follow me,” she insisted, tears filling the lower ridge of her eyelids as she pivoted halfway to observe him. “I mean it.”

As she left, Astarion’s vision floated to the prayer book that lay deserted next to where Tav once stood, unable to shake the thought that whatever she lost, the gods must've forsaken her too.

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blossom-works · 2 years

Text

Two to One - Hades x Reader

A/N: I fell in love with Hades and I could not stop thinking about this after I read the manga so, spoilers after chapter 50 of Record of Ragnarok/Shuumatsu no Valkyrie.

Editors Note: Some things were changed to fit with the OG’s setups.

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You know just how much he loves his younger brothers. No matter how obnoxious or arrogant they are, he loves them and will do what he can to ensure their wellbeing. Once, long ago, he single handedly defeated the Titans that escaped Tartarus to ensure their safety. Sending out his men to fight alongside his brothers on the surface. His protective nature and the love he has for his younger brothers is what charmed you alongside his mannerisms and personality alone. The man was confident yet a gentleman.

Long ago you were once a human that turned into a God. You are a Demigod like the famous Hercules. To sum up your story, you stopped a war all by yourself. While you were strong as a human, able to handle yourself in battle against an army of men, you did not match the strength of Hercules. You combined your athleticism with your smarts. The combination of skills allowed you to dissolve a fruitless and inhumane war. At that time, women were simple housewives so you were not taken serious in the beginning. But with persistence, you made a name for yourself. So much so that you caught the attention of Zeus, the Godfather among Gods.

Time and time again you were able to defeat armies after armies. You did sustain damage, but your smarts is what allowed you to always end up the victor. You did show mercy though, giving the soldiers an ultimatum, join your cause and end the war, or to die fighting an unjust war. Eventually, you yourself had an army. Together, you ended the long bloodbath with you taking the heads of the kings responsible. Ironically, your efforts and tenacity is what got you in trouble. The people you persistently tried to save turned on you. The men that fought alongside you turned on you. They feared you. They feared that you would become a tyrant, leading them in another war or some crap like that. Your closest soldiers are the ones who build the platform where you would be hung. The people you fought for were joyfully anticipating your death. But you did not fight back.

Despite the cruelty of it all, you understood their fear. After all, one person, a woman at that (an indication that led people to think you were a witch) essentially stopped the war all by yourself. You accepted it. Your job was done. If this is how you die, then so be it. Moments before you were supposed to be hung Zeus, the Godfather of Gods made his appearance. He praised your efforts and your ability to still have compassion for your kind despite their barbaric treatment. With a goblet in hand he gave you a choice, drink is divine blood and join the God world, or be hanged by the very people you helped. Logically, you accepted his offer. Out of all the Gods, Zeus’ blood can turn a human into a Demigod. The only catch though is if someone who is not a true hero drinks it, they die.

From that day on, you became the Goddess of Life and Death, protecting the weak and innocent while condemning the wicked. Having only two Demigods recorded, you and Hercules because good friends. He, like his adoptive father, commended your work. You both held humanity dear in your hearts, vowing to do whatever you could to keep them away from the Gods’ wrath. Human would pray to you, asking for your help in times of conflict. You did what you could to help them and those responsible for the mass suffering would be met with your wrath. You were a forced to be respected and feared.

A couple hundred years after you joined the Heavens, you met the King of the Netherworld in one of his rare visits to Valhalla. Zeus decided to throw a welcoming party for his oldest brother. All Gods and Goddess where essentially forced to attend. While mingling with your fellow Demigod, and his adoptive brother, Hades came up to you. Hercules and Hermes greeted their uncle, and you gave a formal greeting. All Gods and Goddess respect the man, even his brothers do not sully his name. You would be damned if you would be the first person to anger him. You would have to be as crazy as Zeus is when he decides to cheat on Hera.

To your surprise, Hades ignored his nephews, choosing to focus his attention on you. He asked about your work as the Goddess of Life and Death and was curious about your process. Any and all questions he asked you answered accordingly. Hercules and Hermes left you two some time ago as you and their uncle entered an intellectual conversation. Despite being the king of a domain that is essentially Hell, he rarely visits the mortal world. You kept him up to date on your findings of humanity and Hades even wondered what your thoughts were on them. Passionately, you told him that you hold your former race near and dear. Humans may be complex and frustrating creatures, but they are no different that Gods in your opinion. Yes, you boldly told that to Hades.

Your statement intrigued the man more than you already had. Resulting in an extended conversation. For the entire night you two busied yourselves in each other. Topics ranged from philosophy, science, human nature, history, and more. To say the least, your interaction with Hades left the Heavens in gossip. Has the King of the Helheim taken an interest in someone? Will there be a new queen of the Netherworld? To answer it, yes. A week after your intellectual talk, one of his servants came to your home to invite you to Olympus Palace. Apparently, Hades came back to Valhalla to have dinner with you. Ideally, he would rather it be in Helheim, but the taboo of The Bifrost forbade you from going to his realm.

You may not have been a God for long, but you were pretty sure that Hades rarely visits Valhalla. Let alone to have dinner with a newer Goddess. Hades does not even come here to have dinner with his own brothers!

His visits kept happening to the point where at least once a week for a month, Hades would come up to have dinner with you. There was one time where you were allowed into his domain though.

True to word of mouth, Helheim is a dark domain. There is no sun or vegetation of any kind. To your surprise, Hades invited you to meet Cerberus. Taking your hand in his, Hades planted yours on top of one of the heads. Cerberus held no animosity towards you (mainly because of Hades), and allowed you to pet him like a domestic dog.

Somehow, Hades got you permission to travel to Helheim whenever you like without facing the consequences. Till this day you still do not know how he did that.

From then on, whenever you would go to Helheim, you would always greet Cerberus with a pat on each head as you make your way to have dinner with Hades. After that one month, Hades had formerly asked to court you. When you asked why he said, “I have finally found someone who can rule Helheim by my side. I would be a fool to let you slip through my fingers.”

To an outsider, the proposal may sound like an act of duty, but you knew better. Hades is more than capable of ruling Helheim by himself. He has been for the last thousand years. He does not need your help, but he is willing to have you by his side. He wants to have you by his side. In a sense, Hades humbled himself before you. You accepted, and when the Heavens found out, it became the biggest news in centuries. Hercules jokingly started to call you “auntie” when he found out. A couple months into your courtship you met the most terrifying God, Poseidon. Hades introduced you two when Zeus arranged a little welcoming party for you. Only members of their family were invited.

True to his character, the sea God did not acknowledge you, but you were not offended. You knew what to expect from Poseidon and that was nothing. Getting riled up over his lack of interest would be fruitless. You did not ask anything of the God, nor did you try to interact with him. The only interaction you gave him was a bow of the head. You never knew how Poseidon felt about you (if he even cared to think about it). Adamas, now known as Adamantine, took a liking to you. You were told about what happened between him and his brothers. You neither judged nor commended him, choosing to remain neutral. Out of the four, Adamantine adored Hades. You two created a sibling bond. Other than Hera, you would be only woman in their family (and he liked you a lot better than Hera. For what reason you do not know).

After ten years of courtship, you and Hades were married. The big gap was all for preparation. Not for the wedding, that took two months to plan. The preparation was to get you ready to rule Helheim. Hades made sure that you were familiar with the territory and its inhabitants. Mainly Tartarus. He wanted to make sure that if they were to ever break out again, you would be able to handle yourself in the chaos. Given your background, it did not take you long to prove that you could. Your wedding was elaborate. Worthy for a literal God. Hades chose to wear his usual clothing while you opted for a traditional bridal attire. Given the fact that Hades is a Greek God, a Stefana was used. A crown made of golden leaves was placed on top of your heads and tied together by a ribbon to symbolize the union. You two also sipped from a single cup of wine that was blessed by Zeus.

After that, you officially become the Netherworld’s queen. Hades had another throne made for you and had it sit right next to his. While upholding your duties as its queen, you also continued to do your regular duties and the Goddess of Life and Death. It got a bit overwhelming, so Hades gave you two assistants. One that would help with your duties in Helheim and the other to help with your Goddess duties. You still visited the mortal realm, but not as much as you used to. Your clothing changed as well to fit your role as queen. You started to wear a long white dress with sleeves. It is a dress that overlaps itself like robe, tied together with a white strip of fabric. It leaves a subtle slit for one of your legs and your collar is held together by a metal clip that resembles Hades’ choker. You also started to wear purple heels made of crocodile skin. The ankle straps are designed to resemble the vines tattooed on his forehead. A gift he gave you on your wedding day.

The Gods gather in a grand council meeting led by Zeus to discuss the existence of humanity. It occurs after every millennium. The rules are simple. If the majority of Gods vote against humanity, the human race would be wiped out. You try to attend when you can to vote for humanity, but this year something new has occurred. From what you heard; a Valkyrie has proposed a Ragnarok. A thirteen round tournament where Gods would be fight humans and humans would be fighting Gods. If humanity wins at the end of the tournament, they will live for another millennium. If they lost, their entire existence will be wiped off the face of the earth. An intriguing notion that exited the Heavens. When you heard of this you were relieved. Humanity now has a literal fighting chance. That was until today.

In round three of Ragnarok, your brother-in-law, Poseidon, perished in his fight. You and Hades did not attend but you did hear of it. When the news hit your ears, Hades orders one of the servants to pull up the video footage and sure enough, the King of the Seas did die. You place your hand on your husband’s shoulder as an effort to comfort him. It was when you witness your dear friend, Hercules, perish when you both decide to make a trip to Valhalla. You arrive during Buddha’s fight. Plot twist, the man is fighting on the side of humanity. While you are thankful for him, you did not announce it, nor did you show it. Other than Hercules, you got along well with the Buddhist Pantheon.

Upon your surprise arrival, you two sit on the couch in the skybox where your in-laws are after Hades essentially kicks his nephew, Ares, off. Your husband busies himself with talk while you focus on the fight. Since your shared arrival, neither of you have let go of each other’s hands. Both hands are resting on top of Hades’ crossed knee. A bang against the back of the couch from Ares startles you. Your husband glares at his nephew, demanding Ares to apologize to you. While your in-laws are surprised at the fluctuating battle, your husband pressed a firm kiss to your knuckles. Once the battle ends with Buddha being the victor, the problem of which God will fight in the next round arises.

Ares is about to volunteer to take Buddha’s place before your husband announces that he will be fighting the next round. His declaration shocks his family but not you. Before leaving Helheim, you two discussed Hades’ participation. It was not much of a discussion but an understanding. You already knew Hades will avenge his beloved brother’s death no matter what. The only reason why it was discussed is because your marriage is heavily reliant on communication. Over the centuries, you and Hades have built a bond where neither of you need to voice something for the other to understand. While you did want to argue against his wish, you knew it would be useless. Hades might even see it as an insult that you would deprive him of his duty as the eldest brother. You may be worried, but you have faith in your beloved husband.

In a private room prepared for Hades is where you stay until the match starts. Under Hades’ orders, no one is to disturb your family until then. While he is confident that he will win this match, the time alone is for your sake. A way to ease your anxious heart. There you spend your time as a family, doing what you all would normally do. The knock on the door signifies that the round is about to begin. Hades is sent off with kisses as you hand him his bident. After making sure things are taken care of, you go back to the skybox where your husband’s opponent is walking down an elevated carpet into the arena.

Sitting on the same couch you watch the fight with a sunken stomach and a rapidly beating heart. You have faith in your husband, but you are still a wife. It is your job to worry about Hades’ wellbeing, God or not. It is not until Hades’ spear, Desmos, is destroyed when you stopped watching. Opting to let your bangs hide your eyes. Your heart drops to your stomach as is twists and turns. Your jaw is clenched so tight that you chip a tooth. You can no longer breathe. As your husband’s body begins to vanish to Niflhel, you leave the skybox. Your in-laws look at you with concern and pity. You find an empty hall to process what has just happened. Hearing a loud voice, you follow it as you know who it belongs to. Best to get there before things get out of hand.

“Adamas. That’s enough.”

“But you can’t be serious! They’re hiding the man responsible for killing Hades! Justice must be served!”

“Keep in mind brother that Hades saw Qin Shin as an equal. He acknowledged the human’s strength and in the end, I believe something of a friendship had been established between them. As his wife I ask of you, Adamas, to honor that.”

Adamas and the two Valkyrie sisters can see just how much you are holding in. The deep breaths you are talking tells them everything you need to know. Your brother-in-law huffs in a fit but respects your wishes. He walks off to who knows where and you are about to do the same until the older Valkyrie stops you.

“M’lady, you have my sincerest apologies for your husband’s death. I wish things did not turn out the way they did.”

In your white clothing you turn your head. “I appreciate it Brunhilde.”

“If I may, you have been a long fighter for humanity. Now that humanity is the reason behind Lord Hades’ death, will you turn your back against them?”

You turn around to face the sister who is still kneeling on the ground. Her pink haired sister stands behind her, unsure of what to do or say.

“It is true. Since I became a Demigod, I, like Hercules, have been fighting for humanity. Never once have I voted to exterminate their race. My affections for humanity have remained. I, like before, still have a compassion for them. Truth be told when I heard about Ragnarok, I was happy. Humanity has a chance at survival, but...but the love I have for my husband far exceeds the love I have for humanity. I no longer care for the outcome of this tournament...What happens will happen.”

You take in another deep breath and walk down the hall. “The only thing I care about right now is the fact that I am now a widow, and that my daughter is now fatherless.”

Walking through the building you pass by a couple of nymphs. Each bow to you out of respect and offering their condolences. Without knocking, you enter a somber room. A little girl is in tears as the servants try to console her. In her arms, she has a death grip on a stuffed owl her father gave her. You lay a hand on one of the servant’s shoulders, silently thanking them and asking for them to leave. Bowing, they leave their queen and princess to be alone. You gently caress the top of your ten-year-old daughter’s head before lifting up her head. The little girl looks just like her father. White hair with purple eyes. Only this time, her eyes are as glossy as ever.

Seeing her mother, she thrusts herself to you. Her small hands wrap around your neck, and she wails over the death of her dear papa. The owl still held tightly in her arms, getting soaked with her salty tears. Tightly, you hug the product of yours and Hades’ love. Finally, you let yourself go. Together you both cry over the great loss. You carefully drag her off the couch and place her on your lap. The servants outside the room look down at the floor in sympathy. Eventually, your daughter cries herself to sleep. Your white attire is now wet and stained. Scooping her up you head to where you entered Valhalla from. There you see your in-laws.

“Oh my...how is the little one?”

“She cried herself to sleep Zeus. She kept calling out to Hades…I’m afraid it’ll be like this for the next couple of days. Maybe weeks.”

The girl loved her father as much as he loved her. Despite his duties as king, he would always kiss her goodnight and even squeeze in a story or two. He got her the owl a day after she was born. He said it looked like her with its wide eyes. Hades was a stern but loving father. He always made sure to give his little love attention but would discipline her accordingly when she acted out. Helheim may not be a warm and welcoming place, but inside the palace it was. Just a couple of days ago your family was playing hide-and-seek. You and your daughter would hide as Hades tried to find you. Every time he found you, he would always go after your daughter first. Scooping her up in his arms, her innocent giggles, and his boisterous laugh. The memory starts to create a gloss over your eyes again.

Adamas places a hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? Do you want to go back home right now?”

You give your brother a small and sad smile. “I appreciate the worry you all, but I am still Queen of Helheim. I have a job to do as its sole ruler now. Hades would be disappointed if I let things go downhill because of his death.”

“Will you not avenge his death?”

“Do not mock me Hermes. I want to avenge my beloved’s death, but Hades made me promise not to join Ragnarok...I will leave it to you all to avenge my husband. After all...only a Greek can seek retribution for another Greek.”

On your way through the portal to go to Helheim, her family bows to her. Walking, you remember something Hades said to you one night, a few years ago.

“I love my brothers, but loving you has a whole other meaning. Our sweet girl here is proof of that. The both of you are my life’s greatest treasures. She may be the center of my eye, but you my love, you are what my heart beats for. Never forget that.”

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror hades x reader #snv hades x reader #hades x reader #angst #fanfiction #record of ragnarok hades #shuumatsu no valkyrie hades

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