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seungminsleftear · 29 days

Text

Six Years, Five months and Two days | FIVE X READER

pairing: five hargreaves x reader

Word Count: 5470

Genre: angst

General Notes: Lila x Five did happen here folks :/, sexual themes, crude language, this does not correlate with whatever happens during seasons 4 other than Lila and Five jumping into a different timeline together for seven years,, Reader is referred to as female and wife,

Trigger Warnings: Infidelity and Betrayal, Emotional and Psychological Trauma, Unresolved Grief and Loss, Intimacy and Relationship Issues, Family Conflict, Self-Worth and Identity Crisis, Anger and Violence, Emotional Isolation, Suicidal Thoughts or Self-Harm, Intimate Relationship Details

Author’s note: I have not watched season 4 and yet I know about Five x Lila… Kms

Spoiler: All you get is, There will be a part 2

Click here for part Two!

I MOVED ACCOUNTS THE REST OF THIS FIC WILL BE PUBLSIHED ON @seungminsbaldspot !!

They had been missing for a few hours now, and the anxiety was beginning to gnaw at your insides. You could only guess that Five and Lila had gotten caught up in a different timeline—something your husband was well-acquainted with doing. You tried not to think the worst. After all, Five was skilled, perhaps the most skilled among you, but the worry persisted like a shadow clinging to your every thought.

He had told you stories about when he was young, disobeying his father, and jumping through time. He saw the apocalypse, lived through it, unable to return to his original time. He would speak of the chaos and destruction, the sense of being unmoored in a fractured world. Then he told you about the moment the Handler found him, plucked him from that desolation, and invited him to join the Commission. And that's when he met you.

And oh, how he hated you.

You were, and still are, the complete opposite of that grumpy old man. You were always precise, a stickler for the rules, never one to color outside the lines. The Handler loved you for it—your discipline, your meticulous attention to detail, your unwavering commitment to the Commission's goals. You were reliable, the perfect agent, the kind who made her job easier.

He, on the other hand, was a wildcard. Reckless and unpredictable, he saw rules as suggestions rather than absolutes. He didn't care about the consequences, not when there were bigger things at stake—things only he could see in the chaos of time. He was a man who thrived in the midst of uncertainty, a constant challenge to your carefully ordered world.

But that was part of what drew you to him, wasn’t it? That contrast. The way he lived life like he was on borrowed time, like every moment was his to seize. You hated how he would disregard protocol, how he’d show up late to missions or disappear altogether, chasing his own ghosts through the folds of history. And yet, there was something about that fearlessness that fascinated you. Something about the way he could stare into the abyss of time and laugh, as if daring it to swallow him whole.

The Handler loved assigning the two of you missions together. You were the perfect team, each of you balancing out the other's weaknesses. She liked to say you were two sides of the same coin—your precision and his improvisation, your strategy and his audacity. Together, you were unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with.

It wasn't always smooth, of course. He had a way of getting under your skin, pushing your buttons in ways no one else could. He loved to rile you up, to watch that carefully maintained calm of yours crack, just a little. He’d tease you mercilessly, call you names, question your every move. But you never let it show, not in front of the Handler. You knew she was watching, always assessing, always deciding where her next move would take her. And despite your irritation, you couldn't deny that he had a knack for getting results.

And you hated that. Hated that he could bend the rules, defy protocol, and still come out on top. But the more time you spent together, the more you began to understand him, to see the method in his madness. He wasn’t just a reckless fool; he was smart, sharp, and had an uncanny ability to read a situation and turn it to his advantage. There was a reason the Handler kept pairing the two of you up, and it wasn’t just because she enjoyed watching the sparks fly.

You had never thought Five had cared so much about you—not until that one particular mission.

It had been a long day, the kind where the hours blurred together, each minute weighed down with tension and danger. You were both exhausted, having fought your way through the tangled threads of time, dealing with threats at every turn. Endless close calls, contact after contact, each encounter more chaotic and draining than the last. You were used to this kind of work, but that day felt different. Maybe it was the weight of the mission, or maybe it was something else—a premonition, a sense that something was off.

You and Five had been tracking a target across multiple timelines, chasing down a loose end that the Commission desperately needed tied up. The mission had seemed straightforward enough at first, but complications arose as they often did, turning what should have been a simple extraction into a drawn-out battle. After hours of fighting—ducking bullets, dodging blows, and navigating through the chaotic flow of time—you were growing weary. You prided yourself on your precision, your ability to remain sharp under pressure, but even you had your limits.

You weren’t thinking straight. The fatigue was getting to you, and in a moment of distraction, you let your guard down. It was only for a second, but that was all it took. A sharp pain tore through your side, and when you looked down, you saw the knife buried deep in your abdomen. The world seemed to slow around you, a haze of shock and disbelief clouding your vision.

You staggered, clutching the wound, trying to maintain your balance, but the pain was overwhelming. You heard Five shout your name, his voice cutting through the fog of agony. There had been a strange edge to it, a raw urgency that you hadn’t heard before. You had always thought of him as the consummate professional—gruff, detached, always in control. But now, there was something different in his tone—something almost frantic.

He was at your side in an instant, his figure blurring with the speed of his movements as he dispatched the remaining threats with a brutal efficiency that was startling even to you. His face was tight with concentration, but his eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes that were usually so unreadable—were filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Fear, maybe? Or was it… concern?

“Stay with me,” he had commanded, dropping to his knees beside you. His hands moved quickly, one pressing against your wound to staunch the bleeding, the other rummaging through his coat pocket for something—bandages, maybe, or some kind of first aid. He was muttering under his breath, a stream of curses and commands, as if he could will you back to health with words alone.

You tried to speak, to tell him you were fine, but your voice came out in a weak, strangled gasp. The pain was spreading, a hot, searing sensation radiating from your abdomen and up through your chest. You could feel yourself slipping, the world around you growing dim and distant. But even through the haze, you could still hear his voice, sharp and insistent, pulling you back.

“Look at me,” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. You forced your eyes open, focusing on his face—his furrowed brow, his clenched jaw, the way his lips were pressed into a thin, determined line. “You’re not dying here, got it?”

There had been a fierceness in his voice that surprised you, a kind of raw intensity that you hadn’t heard before. You’d seen him angry, sure, and you’d seen him frustrated plenty of times, but this was different. This was personal. And it was then that you realized: he wasn’t just afraid of losing a colleague. He was afraid of losing you.

“Five,” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. You wanted to say something comforting, to let him know you’d be okay, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was reach out, your fingers brushing against his, a silent acknowledgment of his efforts, of his fear, of his care.

He grabbed your hand, his grip firm and unyielding, his gaze locked onto yours. “I’m not losing you,” he said again, his voice softer now but no less intense. “I’ve lost too many people already. Not you. Never you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the chaos around you fading into the background. It was just the two of you, caught in this strange, suspended moment, connected in a way that was deeper than words, deeper than time.

He worked quickly, efficiently, binding your wound with a piece of his own shirt, his movements precise and controlled despite the tension radiating from him. You could feel the energy building around you, the familiar sensation of time beginning to warp as he prepared to jump you both back to the Commission. His hands were steady, but there was a tremor in them that betrayed his calm façade.

“Hang on,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Just hang on a little longer.”

And then, with a blinding flash of light, the world around you shifted, the familiar pull of the time jump tugging at your very being. The pain in your side flared, a sharp spike of agony that ripped through your consciousness, but you held onto his hand, your grip tightening as you were pulled through the fabric of time.

When you opened your eyes again, you were in the Commission’s infirmary, the sterile white walls and the faint hum of machinery a stark contrast to the chaos you’d just left behind. Five was still there, his hand still holding yours, his face pale but relieved. He didn’t say anything, just sat there, his eyes never leaving your face, as if making sure you were really, truly okay.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” he muttered after a moment, his voice rough, but there was a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “You scared the hell out of me.” Despite the pain, you managed a small smile. “Didn’t know you cared so much,” you replied, your voice weak but teasing.

He rolled his eyes, but there was a softness in his gaze, a kind of tenderness you’d never seen before. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head,” he said gruffly, but you could hear the relief in his voice, the unspoken gratitude that you were still here, still alive.

And in that moment, you knew that things had changed. You’d always been a perfect team, but now, you were something more. You had seen a side of Five you’d never seen before, a vulnerability he’d never shown anyone. And you knew, without a doubt, that he cared about you—deeply, fiercely, in a way that went far beyond mere partnership.

As you lay there, your hand still entwined with his, you felt a strange sense of peace, a quiet understanding passing between you. Whatever happened next, whatever dangers awaited in the tangled web of time, you knew one thing for certain: you wouldn’t face them alone. Not as long as Five was by your side.

Since that day, he had been inseparable from you. At first, you found it strange—his constant presence, the way he seemed to hover just a little too close, always watching, always ready. Five had never been the type to show affection, to offer comfort. He was all sharp edges and quick wit, a perpetual storm in human form. But now, there was a softness to him, a quiet protectiveness that he tried, and mostly failed, to hide. And you no longer minded. In fact, you found it endearing. You came to cherish his closeness, his silent support.

You liked the constant teasing and the bickering that filled your days, a steady rhythm of banter and back-and-forth that felt more like home than any place you had ever been. It was comforting to have someone with whom you felt so... normal, someone who could keep up with you, match your pace, challenge you in ways that no one else could. The loneliness you’d once felt in the vast corridors of the Commission faded away with him by your side, replaced by something you never thought you’d have—companionship. Friendship. Love.

Many years later, during a quiet moment in the middle of another mission, Five finally confessed that he loved you. It wasn’t a grand declaration, nothing like the romantic stories you’d heard growing up. It was simple, almost matter-of-fact, the way he said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You had been stitching up a wound on his arm, your fingers deft and practiced, when he suddenly blurted it out.

“I love you,” he had said, his voice gruff but sincere, his eyes not meeting yours. For a moment, you thought you had misheard him. But then he looked at you, really looked at you, his expression more open and vulnerable than you’d ever seen. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” he added, softer this time, as if testing the words.

Your heart had skipped a beat, and you found yourself smiling, a real, genuine smile that you hadn’t felt in years. “I love you too,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. It was the truth, the simplest and most profound truth you had ever known.

Not long after, he asked you to marry him. It was as unceremonious as his confession of love, almost awkward in its delivery. You were in the middle of cleaning your weapons, preparing for yet another jump, when he looked over at you, his brow furrowed in that familiar way of his. “We should get married,” he said, as if he was suggesting you grab a cup of coffee.

You blinked, taken aback by his suddenness, but then you laughed—a soft, genuine laugh that felt good, felt right. “Yes,” you said, without hesitation. “Of course, yes.” There wasn’t a doubt in your mind. The life you’d built together, the bond you shared—it was more than enough.

The two of you quietly eloped, keeping your marriage a secret from the Commission. It wasn’t their business, after all. They didn’t need to know about the life you were building together, the small moments of happiness you stole between missions, the way you found comfort in each other’s presence amid the chaos of time. You had your little secrets, your private world carved out of the madness, and you intended to keep it that way.

And when Five decided he needed to go back to his family, “The Umbrella Academy,” you didn’t hesitate. You went right along with him, standing by his side as you always had. You knew how much he had sacrificed, how much he still carried with him—the weight of his past, the ghosts of his mistakes. But you also knew that he had found a new purpose, a reason to keep fighting, to keep moving forward. And wherever he went, you would follow.

And with that, you find yourself back into the present. You’re pacing around the room. Every minute feels like an hour, and every second that ticks by without a word from Five or Lila makes your heart pound harder in your chest. The silence is broken only by the occasional murmur of conversation or the soft shuffling of footsteps.

Then, suddenly, the air around you seems to shift. A low hum fills the room, and the familiar tingling sensation of a temporal disturbance ripples through you. Everyone turns toward the source, eyes wide with a mix of hope and apprehension.

A flash of blue light erupts in the center of the room, and for a moment, it’s blinding. You shield your eyes, your heart leaping into your throat. When the light fades, you blink, trying to clear your vision, and then you see them—Five and Lila—standing there, slightly disheveled but very much alive.

The two of them share small, strained smiles, a strange new tension between them that wasn't there before. Diego rushes at Lila, hugging her tightly, his strong arms pulling her close. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispers, his voice breaking, betraying the tough exterior he usually maintains. Lila laughs softly, but it sounds different—almost forced—as she returns the embrace, her eyes darting briefly to Five.

Five stands apart, his expression carefully neutral, he struggles to make eye contact with anyone — especially you. He scans the room as if searching for a distraction, his posture stiff, his hands clenched at his sides. "Good to see you're all still in one piece," he mutters, his tone flat. When his gaze accidentally meets Lila's, he quickly looks away, as if the sight of her is too much to bear.

You smile at Five, offering a small nod. You both aren’t much for public attention, and you hoped a subtle acknowledgment would be enough to connect, to let him know you’re there. But Five never meets your eyes. His gaze is distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Your smile fades, replaced by a furrowed brow. What’s your deal, Five?

You feel a knot of worry tighten in your stomach. Something is off with Five, more than usual. You’ve known him long enough to recognize when he’s hiding something, but this is different. It’s like he’s shut down entirely, locking everyone out—including you.

The others, caught up in their own reunions, don’t seem to notice the tension radiating from Five and Lila. Diego pulls back from Lila, holding her at arm’s length to look her over. “What happened to you two?” he asks, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the subtle changes in their appearances—the slightly haunted look in their eyes, the way they seem older somehow. “You’ve only been gone for like 4 hours”

Lila’s smile is tight, almost brittle. “Feels like a lifetime,” she says with a small, hollow laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. Her gaze drifts back to Five, and for a moment, there's something almost like longing—or maybe regret.

Five flinches at her words, just barely, but enough that you notice. He looks down, his jaw clenching. “Doesn’t matter,” he says quickly, cutting off any further questions. “We’re back now. That’s all that matters.” But his voice wavers slightly, betraying a crack in his composure.

You step forward, unable to keep the concern from your voice. “Five…what happened?” you ask softly, hoping to reach him, to break through whatever wall he’s put up.

He finally looks at you, but there’s a hardness in his eyes that makes your heart sink. “Drop it,” he snaps, a sharp edge to his tone that makes everyone else in the room go quiet. The silence that follows is heavy and uncomfortable, the unspoken tension between him and Lila now impossible to ignore.

Lila clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, maybe we should all just… take a breather,” she suggests, trying to lighten the mood, but there’s a nervousness in her voice that makes it clear she’s not as relaxed as she’s pretending to be. She glances at Five again, and you see it now—how her eyes linger on him just a moment too long, and how his jaw tightens in response, his expression guarded.

Diego, picking up on the strange atmosphere but not fully understanding it, frowns. “Did something happen between you two?” he presses, his eyes narrowing as he looks between Five and Lila. His gaze drops to Lila’s wrist, and his eyes widen slightly. “You hate wearing bracelets,” he points out, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Lila instinctively pulls her wrist closer to her side, but not before Diego catches sight of the handmade leather bracelet. “No, I like them,,” she says but her voice lacks conviction. Diego shakes his head, his frown deepening. “Yeah, you do. You traded the one I gave you for a vacuum, remember?” His voice is heavy with accusation, his eyes now fixed on the bracelet. “Where’d you get that one?”

Diego’s eyes narrow even more, his gaze shifting to Five. "Did you make that?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous, cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. The question hangs heavy in the air, charged with accusation and disbelief.

Five’s expression hardens, his eyes narrowing as he glances at Lila, then back at Diego. His jaw is set, his posture rigid. “I sure as hell didn’t make that bracelet for you,” he replies coldly, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade. There’s a finality in his tone, a hint of something unresolved but unapologetic.

Your breath catches in your chest, a painful tightness forming there. He made it… For her…? The thought is like a dagger, twisting in your gut. You blink, trying to process the revelation, the reality of it sinking in like a stone. A handmade bracelet—something so personal, so intimate.

You glance at Five, but he’s not looking at you. His gaze remains locked on Diego, unwavering, as if bracing for whatever comes next. A storm of emotions swirls inside you—betrayal, hurt, confusion. The room seems to close in around you, the walls pressing in, the air thick and suffocating.

Diego’s gaze shifts from Lila to Five, and you can see the pieces slowly clicking into place for him. His face hardens with a mix of realization and fury. “Did you screw my wife?” he demands, his voice a low, dangerous growl. The words explode into the room like a bomb, the air suddenly charged with tension.

Five’s eyes remain steady on Diego, his face an unreadable mask. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something—anything—but Diego’s not interested in hearing it. His fists are clenched at his sides, his entire body radiating a barely restrained fury.

“You did, didn’t you?” Diego’s voice rises, each word heavy with the weight of betrayal. "All this time, and you—you were cheating on me?” His accusation shifts to Lila, his eyes burning with hurt and anger.

Lila quickly steps between them, placing a hand on each of their chests as if trying to physically push them apart. “Guys, let’s not do this right now,” she urges, her voice firm but laced with a hint of desperation. “This isn’t the time or place.”

You stand frozen, disbelief washing over you. Your mind reels at the weight of Diego’s words. Cheating? The idea feels like a punch to the gut. You’ve spent countless years with Five, fought battles by his side, faced the end of the world more than once. And he gives it all up—for what? For his brother’s wife, over the course of seven years in another timeline?

Your breath catches, a sharp pain blooming in your chest. You try to swallow it down, but it’s too much, too fast. The reality of what you’re hearing—of what Five has done—feels like a betrayal deeper than anything you’ve faced together. The walls seem to close in around you, the weight of the revelation pressing down on your shoulders, threatening to crush you.

You look at Five, searching his face for some sign of denial, of regret—anything that might soften the blow of this new reality. But he’s still staring at Diego, his expression unyielding, almost defiant. His jaw is set, his eyes cold and distant. There’s no apology there, no remorse—just a cold, hard acceptance of what’s been done, of what can’t be undone. The sight of his indifference twists the knife deeper into your heart.

You feel your chest tighten, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Your hands are trembling, fingers curling into fists at your sides as you fight to keep yourself together. You want to scream, to cry, to lash out and demand answers. But you know it won’t change anything. The damage is done, and the betrayal runs too deep. You feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not here. Not now. Not in front of them. Not in front of him.

You shake your head, unable to look at Five any longer. The pain is too raw, too intense, and being in the same room with him feels unbearable. You can’t handle this—not now, not like this. The walls are closing in, the air thick and suffocating. Your heart is pounding in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of what’s been shattered between you.

Without another word, you turn on your heel and leave the room, your steps quick and unsteady. You feel the eyes of the others on you as you push past them, but you don’t care. You can’t stay here—not in this room, not with them. Not with him. The hallway stretches out before you like a lifeline, and you move toward it, your movements frantic and desperate, as if putting distance between you and Five might somehow ease the ache in your chest.

You stumble into the hallway, your vision blurred by unshed tears. You don’t know where you’re going—only that you need to get away. Away from the pain, away from the betrayal, away from the suffocating weight of it all. Your feet carry you down the corridor, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you fight to hold back the sobs threatening to break free.

You finally reach an empty room, but as you reach for the door, you realize with a jolt that it's the one you and Five share. The one where you slept beside him last night, completely unaware of the storm that was about to hit. The memories of your shared moments—whispered conversations, late-night confessions, stolen kisses—flood back, now tainted with a sense of betrayal and loss. You hesitate, your hand hovering over the doorknob, but then you push it open and slip inside, closing it behind you.

The moment the door clicks shut, you collapse against it, your legs giving out beneath you. You sink to the floor, your back pressed against the wood, and the tears finally come. Hot, angry tears spill down your cheeks, and a broken sob escapes your lips. The room is quiet, painfully so, and the sound of your cries seems to fill every corner, bouncing off the walls and echoing back to you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, as if trying to hold the pieces of yourself together, but it’s no use. The dam has broken, and the flood of emotion is too strong to contain. You bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs. You cry for the loss of trust, for the betrayal, for the love you thought was unbreakable. You cry for everything you’ve lost and everything you can never get back.

The bed looms in the corner of your vision, a cruel reminder of the intimacy you once shared with Five. It’s still unmade from this morning, the sheets tangled from where you both slept. You remember the warmth of his body beside you, the way his hand would always find yours in the dark. The way he would hold you when you were scared, whispering promises of forever. Promises that now feel like lies.

You lift your head, your eyes red and swollen from crying. You look around the room, and all you can see are the remnants of a life that no longer feels like yours. The books on the nightstand that you read together, the photos on the wall of happier times—all of it feels like a cruel joke, mocking the trust you placed in him. The room, once a sanctuary, now feels like a prison, filled with ghosts of a past that will never return.

As the tears flow, you realize something with a cold, hard clarity that cuts through the haze of your grief—nothing will ever be the same again. Not between you and Five, not between any of you. The damage is done, and there’s no going back. You feel a hollowness settle in your chest, a void where your love for him once lived. You wonder if you’ll ever feel whole again, or if this betrayal has shattered you beyond repair.

It’s been a few days since the cheaters blinked back to your timeline. Each day has dragged on, an endless cycle of numbness and pain. The initial wave of tears has subsided, replaced by a slow-burning anger that simmers just below the surface. How could he? How could she? The questions run through your mind on a loop, feeding the fire that burns inside you.

You try to go about your daily routine, but everything feels off, wrong. The house feels different—colder, emptier. The others tiptoe around you, unsure of what to say, how to act. They’ve seen the hurt in your eyes, the way you flinch whenever Five enters the room. They’ve heard the way your voice trembles when you speak, how your words are laced with a bitterness you can’t seem to shake.

And then there’s Five. He moves around the house like a ghost, his presence a constant reminder of the betrayal. He tries to talk to you, but you can’t bear to look at him, let alone hear what he has to say. His words mean nothing now; they’re empty, hollow, like the promises he once made. You’ve built walls around yourself, high and impenetrable, to keep him out—to protect what little remains of your heart.

Your anger grows each day, festering like an open wound. It fuels you, giving you strength when the pain becomes too much to bear. It’s the only thing that keeps you going, that stops you from collapsing under the weight of it all. You cling to it, because without it, all you’re left with is the emptiness, the loss, the heartbreak.

We have been married for years, you think bitterly, and yet we never even once slept together, let alone him see me naked. How in the hell could he have fucked Lila over the span of seven years? The thought is a searing ache, cutting through the numbness that has settled over you. He always said we were too busy for such nonsense.

The double standard gnaws at you, a relentless, cruel irony. All those times he claimed there was no time for intimacy, no room for such personal moments because of their dangerous, high-stakes missions. And now you have to grapple with the fact that he found time for Lila—time to build a relationship, to share moments that were supposed to be sacred between the two of you. It feels like a betrayal of not just your love but the very essence of your marriage.

You remember the conversations where he would dismiss your need for closeness, brushing it aside with promises of better times to come. “We’re too busy,” he’d said, “We have a world to save.” Yet here was the proof that when it came to Lila, the rules were different. The lies, the excuses, all of it crashes down on you, leaving you gasping for breath.

The anger is raw, a jagged edge that you can’t seem to smooth over. It’s not just about what Five did; it’s about the betrayal of trust, the violation of promises made. The fact that he could share himself so completely with someone else, while withholding even the smallest gestures of intimacy from you, cuts deeper than any physical wound could.

You pace the empty room, the anger simmering, demanding an outlet. It’s a fire that consumes everything in its path, burning through your hope, your trust, your love. And it leaves behind a desolate landscape, a place where you’re forced to confront the stark reality of what’s been done.

How could he justify this? you wonder. How could he reconcile the intimacy he shared with Lila while claiming there was no time for us?

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klausysworld · 1 year

Note

Hey, I was hoping I could make a request for a Klaus story?

Idk if you’ve ever written Omegaverse but I was thinking Y/n is an Omega (something that’s a rarity in this time) who’s hiding as a Beta by using suppressants. No one knows she’s a Beta except her mother who helped her hide it before she died.

Klaus and his family settled in Mystic Falls after that business with their mother and Klaus meets Y/n and immediately knows what she is, he can smell her as not only a very strong Alpha but a hybrid. He knows she’s meant to be his, as in over 1000 years he’s never found an Omega that calls to him like she does and his wolf screams and howls in his head for him to take their Omega.

He’s obsessed and desperate for her, leaving her flowers and gifts with cards that make it obvious that he knows what she is which scares her until he introduces himself. She’s instantly taken with him knowing that he’s her Alpha but the needy feeling is scary for her since it’s never happened with anyone else, though he lets her know it wouldn’t have because he’s her Alpha, no one else (Possessive Klaus). Yet she takes comfort in his caring gestures and urge to provide for her (maybe he brings her food often to ensure she eats, constantly trying to touch her in soft ways to scent her and kiss her cheeks, nose, forehead, etc, always trying to snuggle close and holding her close in his arms when she drifts off to sleep in his presence).

Some smut when he finally wins her over would be perfect?

I don’t see much Omegaverse stuff with Klaus (which is odd considering he’s an Alpha wolf) apart from one other blog so I really hope you like it🤞🏻🤞🏻

Instincts and suppressants

A thousand years ago there was a mix of alpha, beta and omega wolves within a pack.

Omegas were generally kind, shy, sweet, smart, and hard working little wolves that would typically be claimed by an alpha wolf or a very lucky beta. They tended to gravitate to alphas more though for their instincts told them that they would take better care of them.

However through the years, due to the hatred and wars between vampires and werewolves, the bloodsuckers found that killing an alphas omega was the best way to destroy a pack’s stability. An alpha who loses their omega becomes a shell of who they were and the whole pack will suffer in grief and torment.

And the more scarce omegas came, the more sacred they were. Packs who had an omega would lock them up, keep them safe and protected at all costs. But it only gave the wolves a main weakness.

And so the wolves themselves found it best to kill their own omegas if they had one to ensure that they were not tortured in later life and that the pack would not fall because of one death.

As the years passed by, being an omega was no longer a wonderful but instead something that parents feared their children would inherit.

Most parents who had an omega child would want rid of it.

And y/n’s father was one of them but her mother couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t lose her baby just because she was a little different from the other wolves. The pack banished them but it meant nothing to y/n’s mom. She had witches make suppressants to hide her little girls traits.

Y/n’s scent was no longer as desirable as it should’ve been, she was unable to produce that lovely purr and her heats were taken away. Her mother knew that it was risky, if y/n were to stop taking the suppressants then all her pheromones would be a amplified massively. Her first heat would hit her hard and both alphas and betas would instantly recognise her.

And as y/n grew up, she understood the importance of keeping herself away from other wolves, to hide herself and be quiet as to not drag herself into any trouble.

When her mother passed away, it made y/n’s life all the more harder.

It meant that she had to take care of herself entirely and that meant going out into the world and facing society. And it turned out people were just as scary as she had imagined.

———————————————————————

A thousand years ago Niklaus used to watch the wolves turn and treat each other as family. Something within him called out to them and he longed to have the relationship dynamic that he saw with so many of them. He loved how an alphas omega would cling to their side and depend on them.

Over the centuries Klaus had tried to find an omega but with his wolf side locked away, they didn’t have the instinctual need for him. They weren’t as connected as they should have been. He didn’t feel as though he deserved to take an omega wolf away from their pack just for his own needs and he couldn’t bare the thought of an omega hating him for taking them away.

He regretted his decision regularly when the breed seemingly died out. He missed his chance. Or so he thought he knew.

Which is why when he saw her, everything changed.

———————————————————————

One inhale was all it took and his wolf was going absolutely mental.

His head spun and his limbs grew heavy, his bones ready to snap and let his wolf take over if he didn’t move immediately.

Get her. Get her. Get her. Get her. Get her.

His wolf cried over and over, howling through his mind like a siren.

His eyes landed on her quickly.

She was swift as she made her way past people, avoiding contact or conversation as she hurried on by. He followed from a safe distance, watching her rush into her home and triple lock her door. She closed her curtains immediately and he heard her heart thump away as she paced the length of her kitchen.

Omegas need to be pampered.

His wolf told him and he agreed.

She needs to feel pretty. Loved.

Klaus was quick to get her some flowers. White lilies and daisies to symbolise innocence and sweetness, purity and lasting love.

He listened to the light pattering of her footsteps as she came to the door after he rang the bell only to find nobody standing behind it. Her heart raced in her ears and anxiety washed over her. She tentatively lifted the flowers in their pretty box and breathed in their natural aroma. Her teeth nibbled her lower lip lightly as she slowly backed into her house with the gift in her arms.

He was a little worried of how easily afraid she was but also found it to be a level of adorable to how innocent and shy she was to the world surrounding her.

He found that she only left her home when she absolutely needed to, he sometimes wondered if perhaps she was mute with how silent she was each day. He would hear the chatter of her tv and the change in pace of her heart but rarely her voice. Only when she was being polite to those at the shops or when her neighbours gave small conversations. She was so softly spoken, so timid in each thing that she did that his wolf was screaming to have her in his arms. To tell her everything’s okay, he’ll keep her safe.

To begin with he was certain that his presents were an added joy to her days but he noticed how her anxiety would peak with each passing note that mentioned her kind, pure soul. How she didn’t tend to eat the treats he left for her out of presumably fear that they contained something harmful. He understood to an extent of why so was so scared but he didn’t want her to be, not of him. Not of anything while he was around.

So he tried a less…creepy way of getting her attention.

A more normal way.

———————————————————————

“Hello love” he spoke as soft as he was able as to not frighten her off, trying to be less intimidating which was something he wasn’t sure how to do exactly.

Her head raised to look up at him and her eyes shone golden for a brief second to which his reflected back.

Like a switch, the fear was back.

She took a step away from him as her wolf whined within her. For some reason her wolf smelt his and something inside her wanted to breathe more of him, but that familiar feeling of the need to run away was engraved into her brain. Her wolf wolf would protect her before it gave into this alpha.

Klaus anticipated her actions to run “have been getting my gifts?” He asked quickly and she froze, he showed her his hands to be empty, no weapons or anything to be scared of. “I have no intentions to harm you sweetheart, an innocent gesture” he assured but his words meant little to a girl who had been warned a thousand times owner to not trust other wolves. “Don’t be afraid little wolf” he encouraged gently.

Her eyes searched his face, his eyes held nothing malicious which soothed her worries a small amount. She couldn’t help but look at his lips for a moment as he said something more but that common ring in her ears blocked out the sound as her mind ran into panic

Klaus frowned a little at her lack of attention and noticed her eyes watching his mouth. Perhaps she was deaf? He wondered, it would make sense why she only spoke few words so he signed something to her but she only looked more confused

“I’m sorry I don’t speak sign language” she whispered slightly embarrassed. She didn’t notice the way his face lit up at her voice

“Forgive me, I wasn’t sure you could hear me” he explained and she made an ‘oh’ sound in realisation.

“I’m…I’m sorry I really need to get home” she told him gently

“I can walk you” he offered and she swallowed thickly

“I-um I don’t think that-“

“Please my lovely, I don’t want you to be snatched up by someone” he murmured and the fear of something happening just because she denied a nice person the chance to walk with her scared her more than the possibility of him being the bad one.

“Okay” she whispered with a nod.

It began quiet, and few words were exchanged

She doesn’t like to talk. Let her listen.

His wolf directed so he complied and spoke to her about random things to take her mind off of the elephant in the room.

He avoided any mention of supernatural or her soft natured personality.

She was rather grateful to have him treat her like a normal person rather than an object like she assumed alphas would act towards an omega nowadays.

By the time he got to her house she knew it were time to address the situation.

“I don’t have a pack” she told him “I’m no threat or a necessary target, killing me won’t benefit you” she tells him in hopes of him leaving her be. The sad look in his eyes flicked between both of hers

“I wasn’t planning to harm you” he said quietly “omegas…they are a rarity that should be protected and cherished. I only want to be a good alpha for you, I will keep you safe” he promised

“I’m not a possession” she whispered with a sigh and unlocked her door hurriedly

“Of course not- that’s not what I meant…I just meant that you- well you want to be taken care of don’t you?” He asked confused

“No” she lies. Thankfully her suppressants stopped her wolf from throwing her at him. His scent was so strong and rich.

Klaus frowned at her a little and looked down briefly which she took notice of and an immediate flow of guilt travelled through her. “I don’t mean to scare you, or make you feel uncomfortable” he murmurs while she steps inside her house “If you change your mind, perhaps you would call me?” He offered and put a strip of paper with his number into her hand “I can sense the suppressants you are taking, I understand why of course but I do hope one day you may feel safe enough to stop and allow your wolf to be free” he whispers with a small smile and slowly retreats back to his own home.

Y/n would be lying if she said his words didn’t have an impact on her. She wanted nothing more than to let her instincts drive her and to melt into a strong alphas arms but her trust wasn’t known to be given out.

She continued to receive little tokens of his affections. Sweet poems and love notes complimenting every thingy detail about her. She soon found it more comforting than scary which was a first but it didn’t feel wrong. For once something felt right.

So she decided that maybe texting him instead of ringing him would be a small step in the right direction.

And Klaus couldn’t have been happier.

———————————————————————

A few weeks later and y/n was getting more comfortable with Klaus by the day.

The first few times he initiated physical contact made her freak out and she didn’t want to see him for a couple days after. He tried his best to be patient and careful with what he did, she was more damaged than he had originally expected but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

He moved nice and slow for her until eventually she would sink against his chest and welcome his embrace.

Soft touches were her kryptonite and he made sure to give her unlimited access.

His hands would stroke and pet her hair, brush his fingers along her arms gently while small kisses are peppered from her shoulder to her jaw. Kisses was another step in their little relationship. His forwardness could frighten her from time to time so he made sure to let her come to him when she wanted to kiss him.

His arms were wrapped around her loosely when her lips ever so lightly pressed to his, as soon as she took the chance to deepen it she had handed the control over. From there he poured every ounce of his admiration into their shared moments of affection.

After a couple months y/n was succumbing to her omega needs. She began to rely on him more and more.

Soon enough Klaus had asked if she would ever stop taking her suppressants

“Maybe…I don’t know…I would be hit full force with years of feelings and experiences” she told him quietly

“I would be here with you, take care of you and everything you long for” he promised her

She blushed a dark pink and leant against his chest “I’m not sure that my needs are manageable” she whispered shyly

“I wouldn’t worry about your heat sweetheart, I would take perfect care of that” he whispered back with a knowing smirk on his lips. His fingers ran down her back lightly as she nuzzled his chest to hide her embarrassment. “Don’t be too shy my little love, your alpha will please you just perfectly” he teased

“Stopp” she whined making him chuckle and pull her into his lap

“Hush sweetheart, you know how much I adore you” he murmured “you mustn’t be embarrassed with your basic instincts, I crave to provide for you”

“You do so much for me already, my wolf would drive you mad” she whispered

“No madder than my own does, I assure you”

(Gonna do a separate part for the smutty side after she stops taking her suppressants;))

(Also I too cannot believe the lack of omegaverse for Klaus, you would think there would be more. Gotta love alpha klaus!!)

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cinnamonest · 2 months

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I do want to also continue my primary momcon storyline at one point, but with the recent delinquent/bully Ajax posts I am now contemplating modern small town au delinquent Ajax but instead of student/classmate it's momcon…

Poor single mom who is already judged and ostracized by the small town community for being a single mom who had her baby way too young, unmarried, and with a deadbeat at that, made so much worse by the fact that your precious baby boy is a notorious problem child, treated as a menace and threat to the entire town. Hearing people mutter about how that's what happens when some girl that can't keep her legs shut has a kid with no father, how the whole household is messed up in the head, how his lack of inhibition must be hereditary.

Everyone knows him, and by extension, everyone knows you. Who you are, what your marital status is, the fact that you’re the mother of the town menace. You were hoping to live quietly, avoiding negative judgement as much as possible, but unfortunately, that proves not doable when your son is constantly drawing attention to himself in the worst of ways.

You’re always profusely apologizing whenever you get called to the school, bowing your head and squeezing your eyes shut as you promise for the umpteenth time that you'll talk with him and that it won't happen again, unable to look the faculty in the eye, knowing from experience how much their disdainful, judgmental glares hurt. Knowing what they're thinking in their heads even if they don't say it out loud, what they probably say to each other once you leave. How it's your fault, how you have no control over your child.

Or that one line that still hurts you to think about, that time you overheard two other moms with kids on the playground mutter about how they do this or that with their children, or how they would never have a kid without a present father — or else they turn out like that kid…

You were told that once before to your face, back when he was little — that you needed to hurry up and find a step father for him, or else he'll become a bad kid — because he's a boy and everyone knows boys don't obey their mothers the way they do fathers, you know? Sure they love them and all, but once he gets older he's going to start seeing you as small and weak, socialized by other boys and culture into feeling superior to you, and everyone knows that turns into blatant disregard for your authority.

But it's because of him that you can't — you tried, but he always drove away every man you dated, always reacted very badly whenever you got a new boyfriend, being mean and hitting and kicking and setting up cruel pranks and making the man miserable until he told you he couldn't do it anymore and left you alone again. Eventually it gets to be too much for you to handle, and you resign yourself to give up for now, maybe try again when he’s older and mature enough to have a serious discussion on the matter.

Or maybe wait until he’s grown and moved out — if that ever happens, seeing as when you bring up the future, he insists that he’ll stay here and take care of you, says I could never go off somewhere and leave you here by yourself, Mama.

Regardless, you do try and work with him, get him to behave better, but you just can’t. It’s incredibly frustrating. Everything you say goes in one ear, out the other (maybe those people had a point when they said he wouldn't respect your authority). You fuss at him as you wrap the little band-aids all over each of his fingers where they’re scraped up from the fight of the day, but he just smiles, seems to not really be paying any attention, just happy to have your attention and see you worrying over him.

He always dismisses you with ease, promising you he’ll do better and won’t beat anyone up again, but you can very easily tell he doesn’t really mean it at all. And his actions follow suit — you often get a phone call from the school the very next day.

He doesn't really have friends anyway, your attempts to get him to socialize with other kids always ended up leading to fights instead. But that's okay, he doesn't need friends, he says, he has his Mama.

You do feel like it's your fault. Why did he become so violent? Surely you did something wrong. But at the same time, you don't feel like you did anything bad to him, because if nothing else, Ajax is ferociously defensive of you.

You lose count of how many times, after being called in about yet another fight, your son proudly tells you he was defending your honor — yes, he may have cracked that boy's skull open against the brick wall of the building, but he only did it because that bastard had the nerve to call his Mama a whore, so he deserved to have his face disfigured like that. Yes, he may have put three kids in the hospital, but only because they were doing the thing teen boys do where they joke about fucking someone's mom, and he couldn't stand for that, he had to teach them a lesson so they think twice before doing that again. And it's true that one time he did stab someone, he'll confess to that, but it was because that guy spread rumors that his Mama was hooking to make money, and he couldn't stand for that.

This becomes a very well-known thing with him, which creates a bit of a conundrum — on one hand, most people learn to shut up about you if there's even a possibility he's within earshot. However, some of the other rowdy, bully-type boys know that talking about Mama is like his berserk-button, a guaranteed way to get a reaction out of him, so they go out of their way to set him off, believing they can just run away before he can get to them. Usually they stop once they get proven wrong about being able to run and get beaten up badly enough, but there's always some kid dumb enough to try, thus the violence is endless.

Not to mention those cases are worse. Normal fights get a visit to the nurse, but if the motive involves you, he's far more violent. The thankfully few, but nonetheless increasing number of times you had to pick him up from jail were almost all related to those fights in particular, that got so out of hand they warranted a teacher or bystander calling for help. Not to mention he's not at all hesitant to hunt offenders down in town to hurt them, away from the school authorities (who are always keeping an eye on him), so he'll get more punches in before a townsperson notices and calls for help.

And much like the school faculty, the law enforcement always gives you these awful, hurtful looks of disdain, a condescending tone in their voices when they ask if you're here to get your kid again and sighing when you nod your head. A few have the nerve to tell you that you really need to do something or else it's only a matter of time before he does something you can't just bail him out of.

And he's always so cheerful when you do come get him. A bit sheepish, apologizes for the inconvenience of you having to drive out here to come get him (not for the act that got him put there in the first place), but otherwise very smiley and touchy and grateful.

Very, very touchy. He's always been like that. He was a cuddly kid, always lifting his arms up in a gesture to be picked up, always clinging to your sleeves. He never went through that phase most boys go through, where they think they're too old to be spending time with their Mom or get embarrassed by affection and push her away or distance themselves from her. You were always grateful for that, it was heartwarming that he always seemed to be proud of you and happy to be seen with you.

But he does get very, very touchy. Always wrapping his arms around you. When you come to school events, visiting distant relatives (who all dislike him, but stopped bringing it up when you got defensive), even when you go grocery shopping (he always comes along, insistent on helping you), he's always coming up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder and keeping his arms looped around you from behind. And sure, he's never stopped kissing you on the mouth and not your forehead or something, but that's normal for some families, right? And it's only for a second, so it's not weird.

People do notice. You see the furrowed eyebrows and wrinkles noses and perplexed expressions, people leaning over to whisper something in another’s ear.

But at the same time, how could you ever bring something like that up? How could you possibly be mad at him for showing you affection? It's not as if you don't like it, it's just somewhat inappropriate in public… but it would surely hurt his feelings if you told him not to, so you say nothing.

You’re so, so grateful for him. He’s always there for you, always so loving, and has never even complained about having to go without a lot of things other people have.

And because he sees you struggling so much financially, by the time he’s a teenager he gets that itch where he feels like he has to prove himself, because how can he just sit back and let his Mama provide for everything, when he’s technically The Man of the household?

So soon enough he’s telling you — rather, insisting, no matter what you say — that he wants to help you pay for expenses.

It’s not consistently timed, but every now and then, he sometimes comes home to pull wads of cash out of his pockets, handed over to you with a sweet smile… and where did he get that money? Don’t worry about it, is all he’ll willingly say.

You know there’s no way anyone in this small little town would willingly hire him, since everyone knows who he is, and he’s coming back around the same time as he normally would… except sometimes he goes out in the evenings every now and then for just a few hours, when he never did that before, and takes his bag with him for some reason, and you know now that you think about it you recall the local news talking about a string of break-in thefts and increase in drug usage and — no, no, you know what? You decide to not think about it. Your mind has had as much as you can handle and you decide to tell yourself your beloved baby boy has some lucrative job he just never talks about for some reason or another. If you can convince yourself of that, well, that’s the first step to blissful ignorance, so you just cup his face in your hands and kiss his sweet face and tell him you’re so thankful and how much you love him and feel your heart melt when he looks so happy and proud of himself for you saying so.

But because he’s at least starting to show some self-awareness, understanding money issues and such, you figure this is a good time to get him invested in his own future.

You’re also a little worried about said future, given that the prospects for partnership in such a rural place are already sparse. Since everyone knows him, people guard their daughters and watch him like a hawk, tell them to stay the hell away from that boy, and they do listen, keep their distance. This troubles you, you bring it up to him — if you get a bad reputation, you’ll scare all the girls away! — and for once, he actually has some reaction.

But you’re not scared of me, are you?

Of course, you coo and fuss and say of course not — he's your baby, even if he hurts others, he's always so soft and sweet to you — and that seems to make him content, and anything you say about future prospects thereafter goes ignored.

Well, he ignores anything about prospects for him, at least. It's a different story when it comes to you.

Because the subject does come up once again. If you can just get a wealthy man, you say one day, you can easily make life so much easier for the both of you. You could get him a good education without debt, really set him up to have a bright future.

But the moment you mention it, his expression contorts with some amalgamation of shock, disgust, outrage, concern. He shakes his head and grabs you so firmly by your shoulders and says you can't be serious.

He'll be fine without college. No other man is going to appreciate you like he does. Love you like he does. No way can he let some guy just come in and invade the space you two have always shared. It would feel wrong, it would feel so foreign to him to have someone else living here when it's always been just you two. Besides, so many men would just use you, hurt you, leave you, he doesn't want to see you get hurt — and he'd never hurt you.

He's insistent, actually, on not going off to study. He wants to stay home, he says. He can't just leave you all alone! You'll be so lonely and you might replace him with another man— ah, you might get a boyfriend, and he couldn't be there to keep the guy in line.

And if some other man hurt you— well, he would do something really really bad, something that would get him locked up for a long time.

You don't want that, do you?

Because then, if some guy dumps you — which would inevitably happen, that's just how guys are, they'd use you and leave once they got bored or decided to replace you.

Like Dad, he says.

And sure enough, you tense up — he knows exactly what to say to make his words sting, he knows how much it hurts you, knows it's digging up pain you've tried to bury. You want to think he wouldn't do that on purpose. He's just distressed and the words came out without thinking.

But that pain is the hook to get you to listen. Because, he says, then if he goes away too, you'll be all alone without him. You'll have no one, and everyone in town already judges you, how would you ever survive without him? You need him, don't you? Could you really deal with the guilt of knowing it's your fault he would be locked up?

You try to reason with him, and his grip on your shoulders grows so tight it hurts.

For the first time, you feel a little scared of him, as he looks down at you — when did your baby boy get so much taller than you? — with a dark look in his eyes.

You find yourself shrinking back. Stammering out a soft little okay, nodding your head, saying you understand. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat.

And with that, he's immediately back to normal, smiley and happy and relieved you understand. He just doesn't want you to get hurt, is all. Because he loves you. You know that, right?

As long as you stay with him and him alone, he won't have any reason to really hurt someone. So, you know, his future hinges on your decisions, because he just can't help himself when it comes to defending you.

But that’s unlikely to happen on its own (everyone avoids you because of him and all), which is why you'd have to deliberately choose to pursue another man, which would make what happens your fault. He'll chase off any guys that get too close on their own.

Just don't put him in a position where he's forced to kill someone, and everything will be fine. You'll always have him, after all.

#.momcon #he's so scummy aaaaaaaa

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kingprinceleo · 2 months

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Silhouette Timeline Master Post !

Silo is from my 1000 Years Bound Au- (Summary) (Horror AU) 500 years into the future, Miles finds himself at the mysterious kingdom of Solar Sanctum, ruled by the long absent King Shadow. Shadow invites Miles to stay as a collaboration of great minds to try and solve the murky state their world has fallen into. It isnt long before Miles starts to realize Shadow is no longer the man he remembers, and starts to get tangled up in his web of madness.

----

Silo is one of Shadow's little oopsies ! She was meant to be a trial experiment, bioengineered during one of his many attempts to bring order back to the planet. Shadow completely tunnel visioned by his own vision for his work, failed to comprehend the burden that accompanied bringing a creature to life. He succeeded in creating a living breathing being. And it horrifies him. (cw for almost violence against a child)

Not too long after his meltdown, the Black Arm part of his brain overrides his disdain for this creature, and for a short while, he fulfills the role of being a parent to her. Creating a nest and taking care of the babys every need.

Once he returns to his normal mindset he starts to neglect this kid again, he refuses to acknowledge its his daughter, and even a person at all. All he sees her as is an experiment he wants nothing else to do with while he moves on to other research. Most of the responsibilities fall on Valentine and Tails. Tails is suspicious and frustrated with Shadow, unable to get any answers out of him about Silos origins. More often than not, Valentine is the one handling Silhouette, sneaking out of the castle and bringing her to the edge of the kingdom where an apple orchid resides. She spends time learning about taking care of children from the wolf Crisp, a widowed mother of three. Shadow usually never notices the childs absence, and doesnt really care when he does. And when he does care, its usually because hes doing something like this:

They also start figuring out Silos abilities, being able to turn into a black liquid and taking whatever shape she wants. Shes also near silent. No one is sure if she took on Shadows immortality yet...

Plot stuff happens whatever,,, Shadow takes a huge L

Shadows physically weak and incredibly frail, he cant move at all for weeks, eventually getting a custom walking chair. Major loss of chaos energy from his body from overloading, now any minor usage of chaos energy can fuck him UP.

In his eyes, hed fallen from godhood, now abandoned to be a pathetic regular person. And now word is getting out around the kingdom. He cant hide behind being all powerful, he needs to start at least pretending to act normal real fast. And that comes with acknowledging Oh hey . theres like . a princess by the way. his daughter who he is totally raising.

Valentine needs to be at Shadows side around the clock for a couple years, so Silhouette spends a lot of time at home in the castle, usually being very clingy to Shadow, she loves to nestle into his collars and his quills

This continues even when Shadow starts setting her to the side again to focus on rebuidling the kingdom. Now a toddler, shes getting sent off to go hang out with Crisps family pretty often, they become like a whole family to her. Despite that, Silhouette often sneaks out of the house to walk all the way back from the edge of the kingdom to go be with her father again. Shadow starts sending his Shadow Eye, Baja to accompany her so she stops doing that.

As she gets older she starts understanding the expectations Shadow is holding over her head. She is the offspring of the Ultimate Lifeform, and he expects something made of his own blood to be nothing short of perfect, an exact copy of his grace and excellence. At the same time, however, she is never supposed to surpass him. He plans to remain the Ultimate Lifeform until the end of time.

Perhaps she would have considered his cruel edge and bitter tongue normal affection had she not spent years with a family who's shown her what love looks like. She appreciates them so much, but she cant help but try to desperately claw out the same type of affection from Shadow. It deeply pains her and stirs resentment for her half siblings whenever her father comes over to the orchid, either to pick her up or at the request of Val, and she watches Shadow interact with the other children. He views them as lesser, but because of this, the lack of expectation for them, he comes off as a little kinder. Tolerating things he would never allow Silo to do in his presence, coldly reprimanding her in the hollowing silence of their black arms hive mind. He trained a lot of her emotional responses out of her, leaving her with a dead expression most of the time.

As a teenager, the noise in the back of her mind gets louder, deadset on destruction. Part of her wants to kill Shadow. Shes afraid of that side of herself. She starts acting out, trying to distract him from his work to get his attention, positive or negative attention she doesnt care anymore. It starts small but as he keeps turning a blind eye, expecting Val to handle it, she is the head guard after all. Gradually she increases the intensity, committing real crimes in the kingdom and testing how far she needs to push that old man, from stealing to committing arson. Shes willing to tear this whole kingdom apart if it means Shadow will come and stop her.

Eventually, Shadow does! Additionally, Shadows in a much better mental and physical state than he was years ago, where he was genuinely at his worst. After a lot of talks with Miles, Val, and Crisp and realizing the worst parts of himself are being manifested in this child before his eyes. He goes to finally give her what she wants.

Hes still not a great parent, but now he puts more effort in, working with Silo to get her behavior in check, being overall more available and open to her.

#sonic the hedgehog #sth #shadow the hedgehog #sonic au #1000 years bound #silhouette the needlemouse #sfs

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bunniekittiee · 10 months

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The Loudest Silence

Based off of @heavenlymorals ‘s post that Bi-Han had an injury to his throat that caused the raspiness. I did some research on throat illnesses and for this one, I went with acute laryngitis. Also this isn’t proofread so ignore any errors! I suck at endings btw.

It was unknown how Bi-Han got ill as he hardly ever got sick, but he was suffering. He attempted to cover his illness and continue his regular activities, such as hard training and practicing his ability to withstand the cold of the Arctika. But at night, he ran a high fever and his body was wracked with coughs until he was coughing blood. His mother was worried, extremely worried. She stayed up many nights to help Bi-Han by giving him tea to sip on and rubbing his back. She made sure he slept elevated so his coughing would not persist as long.

However, his father was not happy that Bi-Han was sick. He blamed himself for not strengthening his immune system, and he encouraged Bi-Han to freeze the illness out. His mother thought otherwise, so they argued over the course of action. She wanted Bi-Han to rest and recover, he wanted him to continue training and get over his illness in the cryomancer way.

“He is going to be the Grandmaster one day. How can he be a leader if you coddle him?” His father spat as he lifted his hands up in irritation.

“It is not coddling if I’m taking care of him because he is ill. He’s coughing blood! He can barely stand up, let alone train.” She replied with her face twisted in irritation. “I will not let you push our son until he is severely ill. He needs to rest.”

They bickered while Bi-Han listened, his body fighting for him to stay in bed but his mind told him he needed to train. He needed to prove his father wrong. His father was always harder on Bi-Han than Kuai Liang and Tomas who did not have to prove themselves as much as Bi-Han had to.

That was the downside of being the first-born son.

And he resented his brothers like hell for it.

Kuai Liang snuck into Bi-Han’s room with soup, using his hands to keep it warm. “I brought you something to eat, brother.”

Bi-Han looked at him, unable to talk as his throat was inflamed shut. His vocal cords felt like they were being ripped out of him when he made an effort to speak. He shook his head when Kuai Liang came closer with the soup.

“Why not? Are you not hungry?” He asked.

Bi-Han sighed in frustration as he was unable to communicate why he didn’t want to eat. It wasn’t that he was not hungry, it felt like sandpaper going down his throat when he ate. It was painful and uncomfortable.

He tried to communicate with his eyes, but eventually gave up and grabbed something who write on next to him. His mother made sure he had something to write with as she understood he had a hard time telling his family what he needed.

Kuai Liang looked at the paper when Bi-Han held it up and nodded. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry brother. I’ll leave it in the kitchen for now. Is there anything else you might need?”

He shook his head once more and made the motion to shoo Kuai Liang out. His brother listened and closed the door behind him, making Bi-Han sigh again.

He felt like death. He was sure Death would claim him. He wanted to rip his own throat out. The overwhelming urge to sleep took over him, and he closed his eyes.

Groggily waking up, Bi-Han slung his legs over the edge of his bed. He still felt horrible, but he knew his father was right. He needed to try to freeze the sickness out somehow. As he began to get dressed, he felt lightheaded as the corners of his vision began to fuzz. He shook his head slightly. He could not be weak. He could not show weakness.

Despite how much as his body yearned for his bed, he had to make an effort to improve his health. So he trudged out of his room and quietly padded down the hall as he swallowed his built up saliva in his mouth. It hurt horribly when he did, but he could not help it.

“Bi-Han! What are you doing up?” Tomas asked him as he approached Bi-Han. He narrowed his eyes at Tomas and opened his mouth to say something but he could not get a sound out. His vocal cords throbbed, and he rubbed his throat. Glaring at Tomas, he pushed past time and tried to make his way outside.

That was, until Kuai Liang stopped him.

“What are you doing, brother? You need to be resting. Why are you going outside?” Kuai Liang questioned as he stood between Bi-Han and the door.

The eldest brother wanted to explode. Everyone was getting in his way. His brown eyes burned into Kuai Liang’s as he moved his brother to the side. He began to go outside into the snowy tundra while his brothers followed behind him.

“You cannot go outside! It will worsen your condition.” Liang said worriedly as he caught up next to Bi-Han. “Please go back inside.”

Ignoring his request, Bi-Han stepped through the snow as the icy winds burned his throat and nasal passages. His head hurt badly now.

Kuai Liang told Tomas to get their mother while he followed Bi-Han. “Please brother, we don’t want your illness to become worse.”

“Obey my orders.” Bi-Han guttural voice that had not been used for a week rang in the air. He regretted speaking as his throat felt like it was being scraped with sandpaper and a knife. Kuai Liang was taken aback a little bit from the sounds of Bi-Han’s voice. It sounded painful. Bi-Han clenched his jaw and continued stepping through the snow while Kuai Liang lingered behind him.

The Arctika itself was always chilly with its freezing winds and the snow that seemed to never stop. But it had cold spots that were icy compared to the normal coldness. That was where Bi-Han was headed. It was easier to focus his power, and he hoped that the extra chill would help him freeze his illness out.

Kuai Liang warmed himself up from the bitter cold as he followed him. Tomas trailed behind the two brothers, shivering and the tip of his nose and cheeks turning red. He did not understand how Bi-Han could withstand it so easily.

Reaching the cold spot, Bi-Han threw himself onto the ground and began to cover himself in snow. His teeth chattered and his bones ached from the snow, but he knew he could focus his powers better this way. He had to freeze it out one way.

“Brother!” Kuai Liang kneeled down next to him and attempted to get the snow off of him, but Bi-Han smacked his hands. “You are going to get even more sick!”

Despite Tomas and Kuai Liang’s blabbering, Bi-Han sunk into the snow more and began to focus on the freezing temperatures. The cold. The ice that was beginning to frost over him. He needed to get his illness out quick.

He closed his eyes and blocked out his brothers’ pleas and focused on his heartbeat. His bones now ached to a great extent. His throat felt like it was being shredded by a cheese grater with every breath he took.

Bi-Han was not sure if he fell asleep or if he passed out. All he felt was someone pick him up which woke him up from his sleep. He assumed it was Kuai Liang, and Bi-Han grumbled quietly.

He felt warmth engulf his body, but it did not feel good. Going from extreme cold temperatures to hot made him feel like he was on fire. He groaned in pain, his throat flaring up again as he felt like his skin was being engulfed in flames. He fluttered his eyes open, and there stood his mother. She was worried, he could tell by the scrunch of her eyebrows. He saw a glimpse of his father approaching, but his eyes felt heavy. Bi-Han soon passed out once more.

When he opened his eyes again, he glanced around and saw that he was in bed with multiple blankets stacked on him. Near his bed, his mother slept. He felt his heart lurch as his worries consumed him. Was she okay? Did something happen?

Her eyes opened when she heard Bi-Han shifting around, and she got up quickly to tend to his needs. “My son! How do you feel?”

Bi-Han had a pounding headache, his limbs felt heavy, his bones hurt, he was not in any better shape. If not, worse than before.

He explained this to her on the paper pad and she sighed. “I told your father that freezing it out would only worsen it. I was right. You are officially on bed rest, Bi-Han.” She said as she gently pushed his stray hairs back from his forehead. “You are not going anywhere. You will not resume training. You will not get up from this bed, do you understand me?”

He wanted to argue and tell her that he could do it, but with the way he felt, he did not feel like doing anything. He just nodded his head at her while she sighed again.

“I don’t know what I would do if I were to lose you, my love.” She told him quietly. “You are my life. As well as Kuai Liang, but you are my life.”

Bi-Han suddenly felt tired, his eyelids starting to drag down as his vision blurred. He was once again entering his dream state that was empty. Void of any dreams. Just darkness.

It had taken three weeks for Bi-Han to fully recover. His mother fought hard for his father to give Bi-Han the adequate amount of recovery time. His father respected her wishes and granted Bi-Han time to rest. As much as he wanted his son to continue his training and work, he did not like to see him so severely ill. He saw how sickly Bi-Han looked after he tried to freeze it out of him. Bi-Han was pale with blue veins slightly showing through his skin. His body was limp and deathly cold. He thought for a moment that his son had perished by his own bad encouragement. But Bi-Han persisted.

As a future Grandmaster should.

Bi-Han began to feel better halfway into Week 3. He felt more energized and did not have to worry about falling asleep out of nowhere. Kuai Liang and Tomas were joyous to have their brother back even if he was grouchy. They had missed Bi-Han accompanying them to training and his moodiness that only made them annoy him more.

Training had its difficulties as he did not have the stamina built up anymore. So he had a somewhat difficult time attempting to adjust to his usual regime. However, he was used to not talking. His body may have been recovering well, but his throat still had flare ups. No one expected him to talk. But it frustrated him to no end trying to communicate without speaking. No one seemed to understand him. And sometimes it was hard keeping his side comments to himself.

One day, Tomas had accidentally smacked Kuai Liang in the face with a stick, causing the brother to have a large red mark across his cheek.

“By the Gods! Kuai Liang, I am so sorry!” Tomas apologized to him as Kuai, annoyed, told him it was fine.

“You imbecile.” Bi-Han rasped. “You need to watch where you are swinging objects.”

Tomas and Kuai both jumped on surprise, eyes wide as they swiveled their heads to Bi-Han.

“Brother, your voice…” Kuai Liang said in shock.

“It’s different.” Tomas breathed as they studied Bi-Han who was a little surprised himself. His voice was altered from his illness, and he did not expect it. It was deeper than normal with some raspiness to it. He sounded much older and a little intimidating.

“Be quiet, both of you.” He rumbled. Both of his brothers obeyed his orders.

Bi-Han used his voice more, even surprising his parents. “Your voice is new.” His father told him. “A future Grandmaster with a voice like that will bring him success.”

Bi-Han debated on whether his father was telling him the truth or not. He was used to his original voice, and he did not want any changes to it. It wasn’t anything special, but it was his regularity. Now, he had a much deeper and raspier voice that didn’t sit well with him.

Would he admit he was insecure? Absolutely not.

But his mother noticed he used his voice less despite being fully recovered. And she did what mothers always do best.

“My son,” she said to him one day while she helped him apply creams to his face. His face was breaking out from stress, and he was irritated because of it. “Your voice is lovely. It may have changed due to our sickness, but you sound intimidating. You can use that to your advantage, especially when you are Grandmaster.”

The cryomancer did not have that thought cross his mind. His mother was right, he could use it to his advantage. Bi-Han had always been on the much colder side with his personality, so having a voice like that would only add to his demeanor.

Brown eyes staring at his mother’s, he nodded his head. “I had never thought about it that way. Thank you.”

She smiled at him softly, continuing to rub a bit more cream onto his face.

Kuai Liang and Tomas had the hardest time adjusting to Bi-Han’s voice. They never fully got used to it, and if Bi-Han snuck up on them, he often surprised them.

He scared Tomas so bad that the poor kid swung himself off the side of one of the hills around the Arctika. His powers were definitely tested that day on whether he could control his smoke enough to bring himself up the large hill again. Bi-Han found is amusing while Kuai was worried about Tomas being hurt.

Bi-Han utilized his mother’s advice for many years, even after she had passed. Growing from a teenager to a fully-fledged man who was now the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, he had much practice with altering his voice to sound more imposing on others. Sometimes, he used it on his siblings. But Kuai Liang always rolled his eyes and told Bi-Han that he was not scaring anyone.

But they never were used to his voice. How gravelly it could sound and how it would change throughout the day. His voice sounded much different in the mornings than in the afternoons.

He was thankful he had gotten ill those many years ago. It worked out in his favor despite how much pain he had to go through. But he thought it worked out in his benefit.

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witchofhimring · 2 months

Text

Loyalty Chapter 15

Synopsis: At the end you are forced to fight, alone.

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, moontea/abortions, suicide, mentions of rape (not to the reader), Plot twist at the end!

The war was over. Peace still alluded Westeros as fractions battled for Kings Landing. The grief of two years of war had ended. But now a new battle was about the begin. One that would utterly consume you, greater than any other. Running so fast you could barely breath, the walls were closing in. The world had fallen silent to your ears. A beating heart was all you were physically conscious of. Down the halls your ancestors grew up in you flew.

The flight of stairs felt too long. Ever step seemed to take a lifetime. Staggering to the last few flight you lunged for the door. Shoving the door opened you opened up on your son. He lay in the arms of Lady Jenna, surrounded by Cerilla and two guards. She did not even seem surprised to see you. "Y/n. I will send in a maester to you." Looking her in the eye, for the first time, you noticed the cold look in her eyes. Her jaw rigidly clenched together, like she was holding herself back. The calm look on her face was completely performative. Jenna Tyrell had maintained complete power over the Tyrells, and by extension you. Never before had you acknowledged it so clearly. Jenna stood here, terrible and powerful. There you stood, powerless and pitiful. All along you had been dancing in the palm of her hands. Everything had been planned out. From the moment she poisoned your father to this very moment.

You lunged for your son, laying in her arms surrounded by that hideous green fabric. A strangled cry between fright and rage left you cold lips. The guards seized you. Helplessly you tried to rescue your son. He lay there in the clutches of his grandfathers killer, his mothers jailer. "Calm her down. Y/n is simply exhausted from grief." And then she walked towards the door. Owen squirmed and reached out for you. "Please, my son." You begged. Jenna sighed and clutched Owen closer. "You have nothing to fear Y/n. Your son will be well taken care of." Struggling in the guards arms you continued the struggle. "Where is Dara? What have you done to her?!" Showing signs of annoyance Jenna replied; "Lady Dara is being sent home." Horrified you collapsed. The world spun before you. Owen cried out and you attempted to reached him. Unable to move, all you could do was watch Jenna walk out of the door with you son.

Everything seemed to flashed before your eyes. They said this happened before death, where you relived your life before joining the Gods. Jenna flitted in and out of them like a specter of death. Her hands seemed to be in every aspect of your life. The mattress sunk beneath your weight. Maesters loaded you with potions that brought you to the brink of oblivion. Not even your fingers could move and inch. Breathing felt heavy, like someone was pushing down on your lungs. Memories came and went with you helplessly watching. A hum of silence reverberated through your hears. You could feel it in your very bones as it grew in strength.

At some point you were able to sit up. Still very weak you tried to stand up. Legs failed and you fell back onto the seats. Each strain was a torment on your body. Reaching over with great effort you poured a drink. The taste of wine seemed to bring you back to your senses. Reality set in and the goblet fell from your hands. Owen. In a panic you stood up. Suddenly physical inability mattered not. Pulling on the door you realized it was locked. "Let me out!" Hammering against the door you cried out. No one answered your pleas for help. Hearing rustling outside you knew they could hear you. Guards most likely. Again you tried to pry the door opened but it was all hopeless. Stuck in this purgatory all you could do was beat against the door in a vain attempt to break free. This was fear such as you had never felt before. Trapped by those you knew and your son missing. When exhaustion finally became too overpowering, you slid to the ground.

That night you dreamed of Jaecerion. In that dream you lay in his arms. His silver hair shielded you for the outside. He swore, as he had in life, to always protect you. Strong arms held you close. Pink lips ghosted your hairline. Sweet things were whispered swearing a world of happiness and peace. He would save you from all those who would bring harm.

When next you came there was only pain and darkness. Your dreams had been of nothing. A great hole had been dug into your soul with the ferocity of a white hot knife. Waking brought no light. Clouds blocked the moon, and in turn you were eclipsed by greater forces. Nails dug into the delicate fabric of your green dress. Tilting your head back you reminisced on the situation. You wondered for how long you had been so weak. Perhaps from the very start. When had you ever been able to gain any measure of satisfaction? Ellyn and Rhaenyra had died, but not from your power. Cerilla remained at large and Jenna reigned victorious. What had you ever done to receive her ire? Was it simply to do down any rivals to Highgarden? But if that were the case what about Owen? "She plans to marry him to her granddaughter. She needs him." You convinced yourself.

When next you received company it was a maid. She quickly delivered food and left. "Where is Dara?" But she said nothing. It now occurred to you why Jenna stored you in a tower. There was truly no escape. Not unless she wished it.

At some point you went back to sleep. When next you woke it was morning. It brought you no light. This cold room was no place for one to flourish. Here you remained like a wilting rose. As a child you had walked through the gardens. One cold day you had treaded upon a wilting rose on the ground. Its once lovely pink petals were stained with mud and rot. On the ground it lingered, slowly being destroyed as people carelessly walked all over it. Even those who had not meant to banished the roses life. There it lay, weak, forced to endure the whims of others.

Whether roses felt anything one could not say. But you who were human undoubtedly felt as the rose might have. On weak feet you staggered. Anger pulsed through your veins. Everyone had abandoned you. Either dead or traitors. Your thoughts went to poor Jaecerion who had so suddenly died. So suddenly after you agreed to marry him. Where had Jenna gone? For a period of time she disappeared, where had Jenna gone? With a scream of anger you sent a cup and plate crashing to the ground. "Murderer!" Things went flying and breaking in your storm of rage. You cursed Jenna for everything. You hoped that a day would come when you would revenge yourself upon her. And when that day came she would die screaming in dreadful agony.

When next you slept you dreamed of killing them all. Visions of tearing apart Jenny, Ellyn and Cerilla reared their heads in the dark. It was not just them but others. Those who had mocked you at court. Those who fled from you in your hour of need. Aemond was writhing as your tore his heart out, blood running down your forearm. Dreams where you punished them in the most horrid ways. They begged for mercy and you granted none. When you woke there was a strange sense of calm. Adrenaline coursed through your veins like you had been running. Stretching out images of your revenge brought the vestiges of joy. "If I ever get the chance, I will make all of them suffer." Some were beyond your reach, Ellyn and Aemond were dead. Aemond was a difficult thought. Although you friendship was buried and dead you mourned him. Now if he were alive that might be a different matter.

Others were in your reach. However when the sobering realization that even the living were safe from your wrath. For the past two years you had felt so small. Insignificant. Tears rolled down your cheeks. Insignificant. Ellyn had mocked you when she married Aemond. Like a servant she treated you. That time just as this there had been nothing you could do. Both Jenna and yourself held the same position, dowagers and mother to an heir. How different you paths had been. She was all powerful. You were nothing. The reality stung, and yet it was reality.

For a time they left you totally alone. Every now and then a maid would some in to bring food. But no one had bothered to clean the mess you made. Too mentally to clean you simply let the artifacts remain. But eventually people came. A maester accompanied by guards arrived. Looking up from the place on your bed you met his eyes. "Where is my son." Uncomfortable, the maester replied; "He is well taken care of by Lady Jenna-" He was cut off by your laughter. Her shrunk back at who he considered a mad woman laughing. And you laughed and laughed. They either believed her or "Lady Y/n, please come with me." Sitting up, you asked; "Where to?" "I do not know my lady." Once more they sought to control you. But you were no child or servant to be lead. " Where to. I will not ask you again."

Guards surged forward. They seized you by the arms and up. Trashing around you screamed, with little affect. All they could do was force you out and down the stairs. By the gods you struggled in their grasp. Determined not to be taken you fought every step of the way. Had only you showed such resolve sooner.

Dragged outside you noticed onlookers. Their eyes seemed cold in your state of fear. Standing like the gallows was a carriage. The unfriendly glares Septas only served to fuel the storm of emotions. "Careful with my cousin." It was Gerald Tyrell, Jenna's only child. When he looked down at you there was stele in his eyes. What you had done to warrant such a look was unknown. His words curious enough, but they were just that, words. Hurried into the carriage the septa's seized you. "Sit." One of them ordered. Refusing you clawed at the door. Suddenly you were slapped. Despite her age the septa had strength. The scowl on her face said she would do it again. Tasting blood you still refused to sit. The other one seized you. Forced to sit, the septa said; "You shall sit or we will have you whipped." Chest heaving and anger mounting you shot them both a ferocious stare. Yet they were unfazed. And in truth why not? They had nothing to fear from you.

The truth of your situation banished any ability to move. Even a septa could scold you now. The carriage jerked and you looked out the window. Owen might still be in Highgarden, and you were being sent to who knows where. Your hands clutched at the window bars. Oh how you wished you possessed greater power. "That will do you no good." One of the septa's scoffed. In another state of mind you might have fought her. How you had been diminished. As Highgarden shrunk away you mournfully looked at where Owen may be.

Your wrists throbbed something fierce. Help expecting the skin to break you constantly looked down. The skin was smooth and clear. Wondering if it was poison you touched cold trembling lips. All the while both septa's said nothing, sitting in stony silence. Whenever the carriage stopped and you were laid to rest, one stayed in bed. One septa to sleep beside you, another to watch. Guards kept a watch at you at all times. The idea you would be able to flee was ridiculous. Even in times of stability you would easily be overcome. With the realm still in chaos there was even less hope.

At night you dreamed of parents long gone. Your mothers weeping face hovering above, fathers lips blue and horrid. Father had died of poison given by that bitch Jenna. Trying to recall mothers death, you remembered. She had fallen down a flight of stairs. And the lordship of House Tarley went to her cousin. Had it truly been an accident? Or was all it took a little push? Jenna may have had a hand in it, placing some lickspittle in the place of your mother. Rarely had you thought of your family. Regretting that, now you wondered who supported who. You knew so little about Highgarden and its politics. Deep down you had always known that Jenna ruled, but had never questioned it. Now you were paying for it.

Your thoughts went between Owen and the future. What was going to happen to you? Would she kill you? But if that was the case why wait? Perhaps this was a method of prolonging your agony. What you had ever done to incur her ire could not be said. If Jenna truly wanted to take over the lordship then why kill you? What threat were you to her now?

Owen was your son and heir. He was no threat to her son for Highgarden, inheritance did not pass though the female line. As Lord of Casterly Rock anyone who had control of your son held great power. Jenna may have no intentions of killing Owen and merely desired control. The thought comforted you to a degree. She might not kill him but Owen would always be controlled. The thought nearly sent you into a fit of hysteria. "No. Think of his safety. Him being alive is all that matters."

Passing through familiar woods you realized the destination. The hunting grounds had been ones you ventured through with long lost friends. Ghosts of the past flitted about, riding on horses and walking about the grounds. In those days your world had been so different. You spent your days in the alcove with Prince Aemond, walked the shores with Jaecerion, giggled and ate cakes with Flora, and was tucked into bed by Elinor. You had been a girl back then, basking in the summer light. Those days of summer was long past. Winter had come and you were stripped of everything.

You smelled Kings Landing before seeing the red towers. Last time you had been leaving for Casterly Rock. In all honesty you had not expected to come back. At least for a long time. Although only two years had passed it felt like a lifetime. The gates drew closer and finally you saw the place which was once home. Now you feared it would be a prison. The gates looked unchanged, except there were black and red banners in stead of green. The Hightowers were undone, just as you were. "Open the gate!" A great groan emanated as heavy metal was forced to give way. The carriage trundled through. You noticed it was eerily silent. Now you could clearly see the changes. Even though the window was small it was enough to see outward.

Men, women and children left ravished by war looked at you with hollow eyes. Smelling the air you realized there was a new smell. Flesh. Dead flesh left to rot. Eyes shut you tried to block everything out. Every rumbled of the carriage, the path was not smooth, set your insides trembling. There was animosity in the air. Although you had never ventured into the poorest parts of Kings Landing it could not have been this grim. And were there not more? Rhaenys had killed a fair few with Meraxes, Aegon others after his sons death, and others fell to war. If flesh was left out to rot the rest may very well fall to disease. The thought curdled your blood. All had suffered in this war, not just the highborn.

"Murderer!" Something hit the carriage window. It splattered the bars and send disgusting rooting fruit flying in. Alarmed you jerked back. What in the Seven had just happened? Then something else was thrown and thankfully it hit the door. Suddenly there were cries as who knows how many surrounded the carriage. They screamed, filled with bloodlust. You could hear "murderer" and other words best not repeating. In a torrent of confusion all you could do was shrink back and pray the guards would keep you safe. "Move! Out of the way!" Guards sent the crowd scattering. But never for long. Each time they were driven away another group would arrive, larger than the last.

The journey up to the Red Keep seemed to take a lifetime. All the time you sat there ridged. Confusion and fear were you companions. The septas were no help. They simply set there and looked at you with cold, unsympathetic eyes. You dared not ask them any questions, less all you receive was a slap or harsh words. You had your fill of those things. The screams only stopped when the Red Keeps towers loomed large overhead. And it would seem that as one trial ended, another begun. A guard flung the door open and ordered you to step out. Nervously you walked into the shadows. An unfriendly group awaited you. In their midst, for just a moment, a hooded figure was amongst them. But with a blink it was gone. You recognized several people. Ser Corlys Velaryon was bent over and looking far older than his years. Yet the moment he looked at you his eyes were alight with fury. He looked alarmingly, even in his age and state, like Vaeron. The dead prince whose execution you had urged had an unclear parentage. Had he truly been Rhaenyra's trueborn son? It mattered not now, he was dead like so many others. Flora, you one time friend, seemed unable to look at you. There was a sudden urge to leap and tear her hair out.

A man dressed in orange with three towers embossed in his doublet stepped forward. He was a Peake, although you knew nothing else. "Lady Y/n Tyrell. You are arrested for the deaths of Princess Ellyn Baratheon and Prince Vaeron Velaryon. You will be lead to your place of residence and await trial." Your blood ran cold. You looked around, beseeching someone to step in. When none did you stammered; "I-never..." Lord Peake showed no sympathy to your plight. But your protests fell on deaf ears as knights seized you by the arms. Their cold metallic grasps bit sensitive skin sending shivers of horror up your spine. Yanked forward they hauled your nearly limp form inside. The doors slammed shut, cutting you off from the outside.

You were just down the hall from Dowager Queen Alicent. Her wails could be heald from your room. Despite your rooms posesing a feather bed, rug and fireplace, Maegor's Holdfast held a feeling of doom. Many had died in this place. King Viserys, Helaena all of House Harroway. This was a grim place despite monarchs using it as a place of residence. When living at Kings Landing you had never lived here. Serving Dowager Queen (then Queen Consort) Alicent had you residing in more hospitable areas.

Looking through the only window you could see Kings Landing far bellow. Pacing up and down the room you recalled every memory of this place. For so long the Red Keep had been home. Your most clear memories were of growing and living here. In there days there had been life and laughter. Never were you alone or given reason to grieve. How different it was now. Laughably so if it were not so tragic. You wondered what your room was being used for now. Did anyone use the alcove a young boy and girl once spent many hours? Every place you had used was closer than it had been for two years. Days had been spent serving the Queen, sewing by her hearth, tea parties, racing into the gardens and laughing with friends and all gathering together to whisper secrets.

It was true the few weeks before leaving had been nothing short of miserable. "I will never forgive Ellyn Baratheon. Never." You promised yourself. "May she dwell in the deepest darkest part of the Seven Hells." What that meant for your own soul you did not consider. Ellyn had blighted your life in Kings Landing and not even her death, horrid as it was, diminished your hatred. It was so easy to dwell on all the wrong rendered on you when locked alone with only thoughts for company. You wouldn't forgive anyone, not ever.

They had accused you of murdering Ellyn. A dark part of you wished it was true. To cause her just a fraction of the pain she caused you. Her death did not sadden you, horrible as it was. The ones whose deaths you truly cared about, Jaecerion, Lady Reyne, those deaths haunted you. You wondered if Jaecerion had ever gotten your letters. it was a torment to think he never learned of your accepting his hand.

That night you lay in bed, arms around a pillow. Burying you face into the pillow you imagined it was Jaecerion.

You had no idea as to when your trial would be. Being left in your own room you could do nothing but think of a rebuttal to these claims. No before for your cause had been presented, to your knowledge. Pacing around the room your mind raced trying to grasp anything of help. Your green dress felt heavy. Stripping it off you remained in an under shift. The day dragged on with only a maid coming in twice. Ellyn's death was not of your doing. But how you could go about defending your innocents you could not say. It might have helped had they told you how they supposedly died by your hand. That only left Vaeron. Now left to dwell on his death you felt uneasy. You were completely blameless in the case of the former. Vaeron's death was another matter. Had you not encouraged Jason Lannister to execute him? You have never liked Vaeron. Even as children both of you were at odds. Despite that his death brought no joy. Remembering his screams sent shivers up your spine.

The only book they had allowed was the Seven Pointed Star. As a child you had read it frequently and practically knew it heart by heart. Now you dared not touch it, as if the leather bound book world burn. Lonely it sat there, unopened. For days you were left alone with only Dowager Queen Alicent's cries for company. Of course there may be ghosts in Maegor's holdfast. How King Jaehaerys allowed the tower bearing the name of his families slayer to stand you did not know. "In his place I would have torn it down." Once you had admired the Conciliators mercy, now you only saw weakness. What was the point of being the most powerful person in the land of one could not do down their enemies? "If I were Queen I would gladly watch the light fade from their eyes."

When the door opened next you expected to see a maid. Instead Flora stepped in. For a moment you were taken aback. Once the two of you had been friends. As girls the two of you waited on Dowager Queen Alicent and played with Helaena. Poor Helaena who lay dead and gone like so many others. She was still the same slender brown haired, wide eyed girl. But she looked so different. A grave look adorned her face. Lines that had not been there now marred once flawless skin. She wore a black down that trailed behind. Suddenly it struck you as odd she wore black. Once none in the Green Queen's court never would have dared wear the colour. Yet as the Whore Queen's son sullied the throne you supposed wearing black was the order of the day.

"Y/n." Flora looked around looking unsure. Sitting up you face her. Despite her forlorn appearance Flora looked better than you. A lack of care for weeks on end had made you look utterly wretched. And wretched was what you were. The loss of everything had made you lesser than you ever were. Seeing no chair Flora chose to stand before you. "I hope you are well." Yet her words were unsure. Her pale skin went red, she knew the words were foolish. "Who sent you." This was hardly a question. You doubted that Flora had come of her own accord. She had been one of the first when that bitch Ellyn had turned her wrath upon you. Gone was the friendship of young sweet maiden girls, broken women remained. Youth had been stripped from both. At only one and twenty the pair of you looked much older than your years.

"They have sent me to speak with you, one woman to another. They hope I will inspire regret for Princess Ellyn's death." The outrageousness of this made you laugh. Stark white, Flora stood back. Like Dowager Queen Alicent's noises, yours echoed off the walls horribly. Falling back onto the sheets the cackling finally died in your throat. Soon you lay there panting. Exhausted, it took everything to sit up. Flora looked ready to bolt. "Leave then, and that your silly proclamations with you." Flora seemed to steal herself. "We all knew there was no love between you and the Princess. And I understand that she was not always kind but-" Once you might have held back. But bubbling hate simmered and was threatening to overflow. "Ellyn was a nasty little bitch who was good for nothing but warming a bed. And it would seem that she was not good at even that." Flora clutched at her dress.

"Please Y/n, I beseech you. Do not make the situation worse." Clearly distressed Flora surged towards you. With a steadfast grip she seized your fingers within hers. "Y/n I beg of you! They may give you a lighter sentence if you proclaim your guilt!" "Guilt! My only crime is being in the way of Jenna Tyrell! That woman has you all dancing in the palm of her cold hand! Do you not find it odd that all who stand in her way end up dead? They died with blue of their lips! And as for Ellyn she was ill well before I arrived."

Flora only let go and shook her head. Those brown eyes held only pity, but that did not mean there was no deceit. For all you knew Flora may be as treacherous as Jenna. "I am sorry Y/n. But there is nothing more I can do." With tears in her eyes she departed and once more you were left alone."

They had informed you that the trial would be held shortly before the coronation of Aegon, who would become Aegon third of his name. It had all been for nothing. The Greens had lost. While history would say Aegon the Second defeated his sister it was her son who sat the throne. Helaena's poor little girl would have to settle for Queen Consort. Women must stand aside so that men could rule. As a child you had been relieved of the right to head House Tarley. Only the death of all its male heirs had given you the seat. And Rhaenyra had been unseated by her brother. "Shut up." You told yourself.

Bellow in Kings Landing you could see preparations for the upcoming coronation. That was the only clue you had as to when your trial would take place. Aegon's coronation had been far less splendid, with only the dead as decorations thanks to Rhaenys's dragon littering the sept.

Day by day you waited for your fate. Rage had dissipated leaving behind exhaustion. A trial held no hope for you. Despite your naivety you knew this would not be fair. Those who hated you would lead it. All you could hope was that Owen was left safe. Jenna had no reason to kill him, he was betrothed to her granddaughter. Years from now, what would your son think? He would hardly remember you, him being shy of a year old. You prayed Owen would think kindly upon his mother. It was from him alone you prayed. "I know I am damned but I beseech you to protect him." To six of the seven you prayed, but never The Stranger. He was best avoided.

The day they called for you was grey and cold. A cold winter wind heralded the grim day. Grim tidings, a grimmer fate. You had a feeling something would happen today. Not necessarily your trial, but something. As a little girl Helaena would sometimes awake with a stony look upon her face. Cold as ice she lay ridged and scared. That was you today. Although no seer you sensed foreboding riding on wind.

A septa came in, the one who had slapped you. Unsympathetically you ordered you to stand. "Today you shall be judged for your sins." "I am accused, not guilty. Or are septas not taught the difference." Striding forward she struck you. "Dress. Then we leave." You were washed for the first time in ages. The water was cold sending shivers racketing through you frail body. Hair roughly brushed and dressed in grey you were made ready. They did not bind you, at least that humiliation was set aside. With two guards of either side you were left out. Passing by Dowager Queen Alicent's room you looked in through the iron bars. She lay on her bed, all regality abandoned. A green dress lay shredded on the floor leaving the former queen in only a shift.

The path was long and seemed to take forever. Thus suited you just fine who wanted this to take forever. But life was rarely so kind and after the long trek you stood in front of those great doors. Having seen trials before you had never expected to be here as a proclaimed traitor. A call went up and you saw the great hall. Suddenly you were afraid. The great hall was full. Down the hall awaited Ser Corleys and Cregan Stark (you only knew this because of his grey and black attire). Sitting on the chair was Aegon the Third. King Viserys had sat on this chair in happier times. The Aegon the Second when times were worse. A stand had been erected for you to stand on. Like the buzzing of flies the audience whispered. "Don't look at them." You simply focused on getting to the destination.

The hastily erected wooden stairs creaked harshly upon your assent. It took everything in you to not bolt for fear. The only thing keeping you sane were thoughts of Owen. Shaking hands grasped the railings. When you dared to raised your head their eyes all bore down upon you. Now you looked. At this point you noticed there was another stand. "Is another condemned?" You hoped it was not Lady Dara.

A staff slammed on the ground, making you jump. "Silence!" The herald cried. The silence was worse than the whispers. Every breath made was painfully loud. You half expected to faint. "Ser Corleys stepped forth. "Lady Y/n Lannister, born Tyrell, daughter of Lord Paramount Owen Tyrell and his Lady wife Amelia Tarley, widow of Lord Jason of Casterly Rock and mother of Lord Owen Tyrell, stand accused of the murder of Princess Ellyn and Prince Vaeron." Shaking hands clasped each other. Ser Corleys's voice broke on mention of Vaeron. The boy had likely been of his own blood. But then why not proclaim him instead of Rhaenyra's eldest by Harwin Strong?

"How do you plead?" Coldly you looked up at him. "I deny it." Ser Corleys and the lords convened amongst one another. When they broke apart Ser Corleys's attention was back on you. A scribe was writing everything down. "So you deny your wrongdoing?" They had already made up their minds. "I never killed anyone. Those who say otherwise are liars." His lip twitched. "Don't think about Vaeron." You tried to think of the boy he had once been. Rude and a horrid bully.

"We will start with the case of your first victim, Princess Ellyn of House Baratheon." Victim, hah! As if. Ellyn's family were in the crowd. Ladies Cassandra and Maris waited in the crowd. ""Lady Y/n Lannister, angered over Prince Aemond's spurns, killed his lady wife the princess." Lord Cregan Stark stepped up. Ser Corleys hobbled back and sat down. Upon Lord Starks chest was a pin. Grey eyes looked at you in judgment. "What right have you, whose wife has killed so many innocents." You did not say that aloud. "You are accused of Princess Ellyn's murder. And you plead not guilty?" "Yes." Lord Cregan Stark held a piece of parchment and opened it. "Lady Flora, step forth. Pale and stumbling, Flora made her way up the stairs. She looked not better than last time.

"Lady Flora, you were a lady in service to Dowager Queen Alicent, were you not?" Flora's voice trembled when she responded "yes". "And what was the relationship between the two women?" Flora looked to her hands. "Princess Ellyn and Lady Y/n did not like each other. They were both jealous and often were harsh in words exchanged." You nearly spat. It was Ellyn who had the harsh words, not you. But you had a feeling Ellyn's true character would not matter in this trial. "Can you recall any interactions between the two?" Lord Stark's grey eyes were like a winter storm, cold and unyielding. Outside snow had started to fall. A cold breeze swept though the room. "When Lady Y/n was presented to the princess, she was unhappy. The princess I mean. It seemed Princess Ellyn had heard the rumors and questioned Lady Y/n on it. Lady Y/n denied any untoward knowledge of the prince. The princess took a ribbon given by the prince to Lady Y/n, and tore it." The scribe was frantically writing.

"Very well. Are there any others interactions you were privy to?" "Princess Ellyn often made comments about an affair in Lady Y/n's presence." Your belly sunk. She made it sound as if this affair was real, and not the imaginings of Ellyn. "And that is all?" Flora replied that "yes", that was all." Heart hammering in your hear, you though that Ellyn had not come off very well. Perhaps that would help your case. Lord Stark commanded Flora to sit before turning his cold eyes upon you. Even from this distance you could see the grey in them. It reminded you of the North, or rather pictures of it. In truth you had never been North and winter had only just come. Grey nights with only the howl of wind were foreign to you. But in that moment you wondered if Cregan Stark's eyes, which looked upon you with contempt, had brought a piece of the unfeeling North within them.

"Lady Y/n, do Lady Flora's account ring true?" "I...." It was a hard question to answer. What she said was true but the way in which she said it was less than desired. "Lady Y/n, I asked you a question." "Her words are true, but I feel my character had been besmirched." Cregan Stark raised an eye. "In what way?" "E-Princess Ellyn was in instigator. I provoked her in no way save my prior relationship with Prince Aemond." Cregan Stark let out something between a snort and sigh.

"Lady Y/n. We give you one final time to speak the truth. The Gods shall judge you, and so will we." You would find no pity here. Where was your defense? Who would speak for you? Only you could speak for yourself, and so you did. "My Lord, I swear upon both Gods Old and New that I speak only the truth." Lord Stark's fists clenched together. Despair clenched at your stomach. "On your head be it. Lady Tyshara of House Lannister, please step forth." You had not expected to see Tyshara again. Like her you had not but long since had your husbands eldest been cast from memory. Tyshara looked older now, golden hair cascading down her back. Lannister red hung her slender frame, familiar rubies glittering. For a moment the two of you looked at home another. Her cat like green eyes were no kinder than Stark's. Tyshara still held bitterness in her heart towards you.

"Lady Tyshara, you stand before this court and the Gods to bear witness against Lady Y/n. It is this courts understanding that you knew the lady when she was your stepmother." Tyshara nodded and then eagerly spoke. "Yes My Lord. Although I have no evidence that my stepmother killed the poor princess, I can attest to her hatred. She was very jealous of the princess and felt my father a poor replacement." Lucky that there was nothing in your path, or Tyshara may suffer from a case of flying object hitting head. You would add her to that list. "Can you sight any instances of Lady Y/n's displeasure?" Tyshara wasted no time in answering. "Yes My Lord. Shortly after her marriage to my father we went on a hunting trip. Us ladies went in a carriage. Princess Ellyn, Lady Y/n, my friend Katrina and myself were amongst them. I simply inquired as to their, that being Princess Ellyn and Lady Y/n's, relationship. Lady Y/n was wroth with the reminder and said unkind things about the princess."

"And what was the nature of these unkind things?" Cregan Stark's Hand of the King pin glimmering in the light. For the first time a look of anxiety crossed Tyshara's pretty face. Green eyes no longer dared look at you. "I admit that the princess could have used kinder words. But her heart was broken My Lord. She was hurt by Lady Y/n's flaunting of her relationship with the prince. She attempted to silence Y/n but exposing her lust in front of us good ladies. Then some servant of hers cursed Princess Ellyn-" It finally became too much to bear. When Tyshara mentioned Elinor's name it was like reopening an old wound. Tyshara dared not look your way. But you looked at her with no much hate it stung your eyes. "Her. Name. Was. Elinor! And I suggest you learn it, or did your mother not teach you common courtesy before she died." Now she looked at you. Guards suddenly seized their weapons. Tyshara made to move but Lord Stark called out "cease!" so loudly everyone went ridged. "Lady Y/n you will remain silent until it is your turn!"

There was a ringing in your hears. Down to the depths of your soul a heartbeat raged. Nails cracked upon hard wood, blood trickling through nailbeds. Shaking, it took all you had to remain silent. Tyshara stood there condemning you for crimes she knew full well you had not committed. If there was any justice in the world you prayed Tyshara would one day receive it.

"Lady Tyshara, please continue your tale, what happened after the commotion?" "Once over the woman was dismissed from Lady Y/n's service. Then Princess Ellyn fled Casterly Rock." You laughed aloud, not even the heralds cry of "silence!" caused you to cease. A guard behind seized you by the arm. Forcing you to stay standing they waited in petrified silence. It ended in a raspy chuckle, leaving you aching. Lord Stark looked thunderous. If he could you had no doubt Lord Stark would have struck you down then and there. "Lady Y/n, if you interrupt again we will continue this trial without your presence." He took your silence for obedience. "Lady Tyshara, do you have anything else to say?" Tyshara nodded. "I was not in person for these conversations. However my father shared with me his...misgivings." Lord Stark raised an eyebrow. "Lord Lannister shared his personal matters with his daughter." A sliver of doubt that brought a ray of hope to you crept in. "My father and I were always close. As his eldest he felt that I could be relied on." Lord Stark looked between the pair of you. For the first time you were hopeful. The Starks were honorable to a fault, they always said so.

"My stepmother not only showed a close infinity for Prince Aemond, but his elder brother Prince Jaecerion. We saw them walking together. At one point she threatened me with the Silent Sisters. Prince Jaecerion was hopelessly in love with her, or at least infatuated."

"I was unaware if this relationship. Only Prince Aemond was mentioned. How do I know this is the truth?" And then Tyshara was commanded to depart. Members of Casterly Rock came forward. Those who had once served now provided testimony as to the close relationship with Jaecerion. Even Clarissa's own mother who provided as a witness during your short stay with her. You wondered if she blamed you for her daughters death. Those who had been your friends in Kings Landing also provided proof of your close affiliation with Jaecerion. But where was this leading? Did they mean to accuse you of adultery?

Lord Stark then commanded you to speak. "Have you anything to say for yourself, Lady Y/n?" There was no way around it. You had been friends with Jaecerion. But how to convince them that no affair had happened? "I admit that Jaecerion and I were close. But as close as two who grew up together. I was close with the children of Queen Alicent. By all the Gods I swear I never strayed from my marriage bed, and Lord Owen is Lord Jasons son." "My Lady, there is no doubt that Lord Owen is Lord Jasons son. But that does not discredit an affair. Many provide evidence of your indiscretions. Tell me, was your relationship with Jaecerion always simply as friends?" This gave you pause. Although your intentions with Jaecerion only occurred after Jasons death they might not believe you. "It was only as friends betwen us." Coldy, Lord Stark looked at you. "I will hold you to that."

Next up was Lady Maris Baratheon, Ellyn's sister. Unlike Ellyn she was shorter and with slightly lighter hair. But the moment your eyes met, storm blue and angry, you saw the similarities. "Lady Maris of House Baratheon, you are asked to provide testimony for the death of your sister Princess Ellyn." Lady Maris flinched ever so slightly during the last part. Hands flinched, digging into fine yellow silk. "You were with Princess Ellyn when she passed." "Yes, My Lord." Lady Maris replied. "Do you recall Lady Y/n's behavior at the funeral?" "I do. Comforting my good brother, Lady Y/n was most unhappy. Although we never talked everyone knew she desired Prince Aemond. My Lord, it is my belief that my sister was poisoned by Lady Y/n." "Enough!" Lord Stark cut Lady Maris off. Lady Maris was afterwards dismissed, not even sparing you a glance.

Next, Maester Whells came up next. It seemed all of Harrenhal had been summoned for this sham of a trial. Slowly he hobbled up. "Maester Whells, you served Harrenhal during Lady Y/n's stay. Is this correct?" The man nodded his head doggedly. "I was." "And you tended the Princess Ellyn during her illness?" "Yes My Lord" "And what would you say the cause of death was?" "Poison." There was a gasp. All eyes were on you. Cold sweat ran down your back. "My Lord, may I speak?" You though Lord Stark might say no, but thankfully he gave his consent. "Ell-Princess Ellyn was ill before I arrived. Those in Harrenhal can attest to that." Lord Stark turned back to the maester. "What do you say to this?" Maester Whells scratched his chin. "It is true that Princess Ellyn showed signs ofillnes before the arrival of Lady Y/n. However her worst symptoms appeared once the lady arrived." Maester Whells drew a small vial. Black liquid oozed behind the glass, sluggish and murky. "This is called the Windows Tears. I found traces of it in Princess Ellyn."

They called in Ellyn's ladies, all who insisted you killed their mistress but were forced to admit that she was ill beforehand. Perhaps you would be found innocent after all. Maybe Lord Stark would think you were innocent after all.

"Bring the poisoner in!" The great door opened and an old decrepit man was forced in. They hauled him up the stairs, chains clattering. At least you had remained unbound. "Gerald, occupation, poisoner, you provided Prince Jaecerion with this very poison. Is that correct." It was not even a question. “Jaecerion procured poison? For what reason……oh Gods!” A terrible thought dawned on you. In truth you had never given much thought to the manner in which Ellen died. But puking out black bile was hardly natural, even you knew that. Could Jaecerion have poisoned Ellen? He certainly held no love for his brother’s wife. But hate her enough to kill? Jaecerion had loved you on the other hand? Had he slain her for your sake? “Oh “Jaecerion.”

“And for what reason did Jaecerion purchase this poison?” Maester Whells briefly looked at you. Dread sunk like a stone in your belly. “To poison the Princess Ellyn.” More than murmuring swept through court. With Ellyn died by Jaecerion’s hand you looked all the more guilty. “But they have to proof.” You thought in an attempt to comfort yourself. That thought quickly dissipated when it was remembered that your fate had already been decided. This trial was a sham, simply for show.

Lord Stark stepped closer, hard eyed examining the maester. “And for what reason would Prince Jaecerion have for murdering his good-sister?” Once more Maester Whells glanced at you. Lord Stark’s jaw clenched. “He misliked the way Princess Ellyn was treating the Lady Y/n.” “So he resorted to murder for women’s quarrels?” If you could you would have hit Lord Stark. What did he know of this matter?! Women’s quarrels indeed. “Do you happen to know if Lady Y/n was involved in any way?” Maester Whells shook his head. “If he did Prince Jaecerion never conveyed it to me.” With that Maester Whells was dismissed, banished from his order and to await further judgment.

“Lady Cerilla of House Florent.” You nearly collapsed. Why her?! Cerilla would do her best to trust the story against you. Unlike the previous witnesses Cerilla did not look somber or angry. While every move was measured you could see the unmistakable gleam in her eyes. Today she wore a deep rich green in the likeness of Jenna.

‘You know the Lady Y/n?’ ‘Yes My Lord. We both served under former Queen Alicent.’ ‘They say you two knew each other quite well. What gave you your say?’ Unlike Flora, Cerilla showed no hesitation or anxiety, but plunge right in for the attack. ‘I will admit that our relationship had always been cold. My elder sister married the Lord of Highgarden and Lady Y/n never forgave it.’ The outright audacity of her statement nearly knocked you senseless. The absolute audacity! ‘And what would you say the relationship between Lady Y/n and Princess Ellen was like?’ ‘Hostile, My Lord. Lady Y/n became close with the witch Alys Rivers at Harrenhal and taunted Princess Elly for her fertility struggles. As many know it caused her great pain, and Lady Y/n relished in that.’Your hands clenched. Of course she left out all the times Ellyn taunted you.

"Can you recall any conversations?" ‘Yes.’ And then Cerilla drew herself up to get full height, readying herself with the performance. “My Princess was distraught over Lady Y/n’s disrespect. Angered, Lady Y/n said….oh….. it was so horrible!” Fake tears flooded Cerilla’s eyes. They fool everyone, everyone except you.

Cerilla then quoted; ‘“I predict this, you envy and hatred will dry up your womb! For how can such a hateful woman as you ever give life.” And the poor princess was distraught. But Lady Y/n did not stop there. “I forget nothing and I will forgive nothing. The humiliation you dealt upon me. I pray that this is a curse from the Gods, and let me lay down one of my own. I pray to all the Gods that you, Ellyn Baratheon, will remain barren as you are now. Let the Gods strike you with every misery in this world, and let me witness it to my great satisfaction.”

The courtroom was eerily silent. One could hear a pin drop, if they listened hard enough. You yourself could hardly breathe. In truth you had meant those words. And even though Ellyn was well in the ground your hatred remained. Hatred that was your constant companion.

All eyes were on you. Even though your back was turned judgmental could be felt. Lord Stark turned to you once more. Somehow his gaze was colder and sharp like the famous blade his house owned. “Lady Y/n, what have you to say to these charges?” Speaking was becoming increasingly difficult. Trembling, you attempted to get every word out. ‘Ellyn Baratheon held no love for me, that is true. But she was always unkind and accused me of that which I am innocent of.’ ‘But did you say them?’ ‘Yes.’ It did not matter your reason. Either way you were condemned.

‘There is more.’ Cerilla was not done. Even with the sound of victory Cerilla’s hatred could not be quenched. After the death of Prince Vaeron, Princess Ellyn chastised Lady Y/n over the boys death. In retaliation my princess was threatened. ‘And what did she say?’ Finally Cerilla looked at you. There was hatred, joy , satisfaction and victory in her look. And when she spoke it was not to Lord Stark, but you. ‘“Have you wondered why you have never fallen with child? You allowed a woman you hated near you. Allowed me to handle your robes, drinks and cakes. I reigned freely over every morsel that entered your mouth. How easy it would have been to simply slip something in.’”

The room filled with a light buzzing. Then it increased in pitch and you heard yelling. Lady Baratheon collapsed to the floor. For what seemed like forever the world was shouting and screams. You cared not for what they said. A light buzz surrounded you. ‘Owen.’ You murmured. You would never see him again in this life. Of that you were now sure.

Cerilla was dismissed followed by various ladies. None of them you knew well, only that they served Ellyn and were companions of Cerilla. You recognized a few. Lady Swann whom you had chastised for spreading around news of Clarissa’s pregnancy, Lady Dondarrion whom had been her companion in spreading the information. And on and on it went. All your enemies, no friends.

You already knew the outcome. They would all believe that you killed Ellyn, in collusion with Jaecerion. Jaecerion being Ellyn’s killer gave you a mixed feeling. Oddly enough there was a warmth inside of you. Someone had loved you so much they killed. And you had never treated him with the same regard. On the other hand Jaecerion killing donrone sent a chill down your spine. Of course people died in war. But Ellyn had not been a hardened warrior. Then again you bore her only hatred.

You did not hear the verdict, even if you knew the outcome. They then moved on the the next if you “victims”. ‘Lady Y/n, you stand accused of encouraging the death of Prince Vaeron Velaryon. What have you to say about this?’ Nervously your hands clenched themselves. ‘My Lord, Prince Vaeron was at war. Every man places himself at that risk.’ Shaking, you attempted to maintain composure. ‘Prince Vaeron did not die in battle, did he? An unarmed prisoner it is said you ordered his death.’ A small flame of indignant anger leapt. ‘My husband was his own man.’ ‘And yet they say you convinced him to harm the prince. This was not war but murder.’ Suddenly eyes turned to Ser Corys. An old man, getting up looked agonizing. Yet there was fire in his eyes. He made his way to Lord Stark who seemed to find it prudent to step aside.

‘I urge the court to remember that my grandson did not go the way of fire and blood. He was cruelly slain like Lucerys Velaryon. And this woman in her malice was behind it!’ A shaking finger pointed at you. And then, grief stricken, Ser Corleys lumbered back to his chair. All the great lords and ladies watched him. In his day Ser Corleys was a thing of legend. Even when those golden days had passed he still consider admiration, even in enemies. Lord Stark, realizing he was done, ordered a maester to hand him a note. ‘Lady Y/n, your husband wrote to Lady Jenna after the deed.’ He had? Another thing that had been hidden from you. ‘He writes that it was you who put the idea into his head. What have you to say?’ Bringing up Jenna’s name had stirred something within you. ‘It was Lady Jenna who put these thoughts into my head. She said it was the only way I would be safe.’ ‘Do you have proof?’ Of course not, you had burned the letter destroying any decency that might save you. It at least condemn Jenna. Only you would take the blame.

They went back to the evidence on your and Jaecerions relationship. And Jaecerion; ‘oh Jaecerion’ you thought. Aching pierced your heart. He had lived you. Memories of him as a boy, safe and happy, were a torment and comfort. If only everything could have stayed that way.

‘Lady Cerilla.’ Again?! Remorseless she walked back up. Unlike you she’d had time to fresher up for her next battle. Or rather slaughter. ‘You are here to provide witness for the charges of murder. You were at Highgarden when Lady Y/n resided there.’ ‘Yes My Lord.’ ‘And would you say Prince Jaecerion and Lady Y/n were close?’ ‘Yes My Lord. They have been close since childhood and their relationship had grown stronger.’ ‘He was often in her presence?’ ‘When he not in meeting with Lady Jenna, yes.’ ‘Did you ever overhear a conversation between the two?’ ‘Only once My Lord. It was the day Y/n and Prince Jaecerion arrived. I had been sent up to assist her when I caught them in an embrace.’ Lord Stark raised an eyebrow. ‘What type of embrace?’ ‘The type only a man and woman enamored with each other could share. They looked alarmed and I quickly fled.’ Talking again. This time the spectators were more bold. Blocking out the noises you stared ahead. ‘It will be over soon.’ You thought.

‘Bring the letters.’ A small wooden box was brought out. Opened, Lord Stark pulled out a letter. In the light a familiar green stamp glimmered in the light. Where had he gotten that?! ‘Lady Y/n, you revived a letter from Prince Jaecerion after the death of Prince Aemond.’ You nodded. Where was this going? ‘He also mentions the disappearance of Prince Aemond’s whore Alys Rivers. An odd detail. Do you know why he put it in?’ You could not say. Everything was so confusing it sent your head spinning. ‘What was the nature of your relationship with Alys Rivers?’ You chose the response that might serve you best. ‘She showed me kindness during my pregnancy. Do you fault me for finding comfort during such a time?’ ‘No I do not. However we recon she did more than provide assistance for a pregnant woman.’ You did not know how to respond to this. What did he want you to say?

‘Lady Y/n, several months ago you accused Alys Rivers of witchcraft, causing her to flee. What transpired between the two of you?’ The memory was shameful. Even now you regretted it. So confused and frightened had you been. Alta’s help would have been greatly needed. And after all her help you related her poorly. Was she still mad? You would be in her situation. And her being with child made it worse. ‘It was so long I hardly remember. A disagreement.’ Lord Stark looked unfazed. ‘So you simply accused her of witchcraft for…?’ He was waiting for an answer that could not easily come. After stuttering and then falling into silence Lord Stark moved on. ‘So you agree that the pair of you were close?’ ‘Yes.’ The scribe was hurriedly scribbling so fast you thought his hand like to fall off.

‘Alys Rivers belongings were searched after her disappearance. Fortunately a few items still survive for investigation. Do you know what we found?’ A horrible sickening feeling swelled up. Had Alys been involved in Ellyn’s death? Lord Stark was handed a small vial filled with blue liquid. With a jolt you realized, or rather suspected, what this was. Jenna's poison. Not the same that had killed your parents, but poison never the less! Had she not indiced poison that had killed your parents, Lady Mari and Jaecerion. ‘That is not mine!’ Frantically you looked around the room. Perhaps it was to spot a friendly face. Or a plea for someone to believe you. None came. ‘It was Lady Jenna’s! She poisoned my parents and Lady Mari, she killed Jaecerion!’ Stunned into silence everyone just looked at you. Even Lord Stark seemed struck dumb.

The wood under your shaking, sweating palms was cold. Your jaw was clenched so tightly it ached. Every breath felt loud as a dragons roar. Klink….klink.

The scrubbed ink bottle had slipped down the stone stares. Startled, he immediately got up. In a moment it felt like a spell was lifted. Now you could hear everyone else breathe and it was terribly hot. ‘That….that is quite the accusation.’ Lord Stark had stopped glaring at you. Only plain shock was on his face. Then someone cleared their throat and Lord Stark found his senses. ‘Is there tree any evidence for this?’ ‘I remember my father dying in a similar manner, and both the prince and my lady died the same way.’ Even if what you said made no sense you had to get it out. It was like vomiting, expelling deep rancid contents all over the floor. And its stench revolted anyone. Lord Stark looked at if a madwoman were speaking. ‘We will have no more of this. The evidence speaks for itself. Lady Y/n this poison was found in Alys Rivers positions. It is confirmed that Princess Ellyn died this way. Send for the rest.’ The box was once more brought out.

The unfairness of it all made you want to scream. Here you were at trial while Jenna got away. You wondered how long she had been planning this. Every step you took had benefited her. Then again those were not truly your steps, rather Jenna pushing you along the path. You would go the same way as your parents, unavenged. Was Jenna here? If you had a knife you would like to rip her right open with it. And watching her crimson blood flood to the floor you would have laughed.

‘Your next letter says “Please return to my side soon”, what gave you your say to this?’ ‘Only that I missed him greatly.’ You replied truthfully. Lord Stark placed the letter aside. It then occurred to you ‘why did he have the letter?’. ‘Was marriage ever spoken of between you two?’ Anxiously you dithered, this was a trap. While admitting wanting to marry the prince was not guilty in itself it could easily be twisted into something sinister. ‘It was discussed. But I swear that was it.’ Lord Stark observed the letter. ‘“I hope when the false queen is dead you will return to me, and think of my proposition.” What sort of proposition?’ ‘Marriage, My Lord.’ ‘But why the wait? It sounds as if you did not immediately accept. Unless this proposition was something other than marriage?’ There it was again, another attempt to make you look guilty. Then an idea suddenly hit you. ‘My Lord, are there any other letters?’ But when Lord Stark curtly replied ‘no’ your heart sank. The final letter you sent to Jaecerion not only mentioned marriage, but Jenna. If Jenna’s name was found amongst your plans then just maybe they would think her guilty too.

But luck was never on your side. Lord Stark summoned the lords together. Everyone else sat, anticipating what may happen next. With bated breath your hands clenched wood with so much strength it could have cracked.

Finally, the lords broke apart and with a grim look Lord Stark faced you. Even before the words were said you knew the outcome. ‘Lady Y/n Tyrell, you are herby found guilty of the deaths of Princess Ellyn Baratheon and Prince Vaeron Velaryon. You will be taken to the place of imprisonment and dwell there till the end of your days.’

Notes: We are nearly at the end of part one. After this there will be one more chapter and then an epilogue. I am already working on part two.

If you want to join the taglist please let me known!

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nanaminokanojo · 5 months

Text

THAWING ICE QUEEN (part 107)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 107 next>>

A/N: This has prose.

“What?”

Nothing was making sense. You don’t even know if you’ve heard right as you watched everything suddenly slow into a snail’s pace and blur out into nothing but colors. It was as if you were submerged in a transparent water tank where nothing was exactly clear, not sight or sound, although you were somehow aware of what was going on. You knew your father stood up from his seat, looking deathly pale as he looked towards the stage. You followed the direction of his eyes, that, too, seeming to take an eternity to accomplish as you turned your head and saw none other than Gojo Satoru standing behind the podium, smiling bright as he addressed the applauding crowd, dazzling under the ambient lights and seemingly not existing in the same realm as everyone was.

You whirled around to look at Kento, having to steady yourself on one of the chairs as questions, one after the other started to flood your mind, except you couldn’t voice them out, not knowing which one to ask first. Why was Satoru suddenly named the head of a company his maternal grandfather owns? Does he know the real reason why you were leaving? Did he do just that for you? What the hell was your father telling you to ask your friends what he was doing there? You held onto Kento’s arm, your eyes conveying every single one of the things you couldn’t say. His expression told you everything you needed to know.

“What?” you asked again, but your voice came out weak, drowned out by another round of applause that was addling your thought process, making you incoherent and unable to do anything. What did you want to do anyway? There wasn’t one thing that came to mind, not even the scathing smirk your father shot your way when your eyes met his again. You just wanted it to be over, but then again, in what way?

You swallowed, thick and hard, wishing you could say something. You knew what it meant, that same accusing look he threw your way all those years ago when your mother died, a core memory that hardened at the back of your mind. He might not have said it out loud, but it spoke volumes of how he wished you were gone instead of her, how he blames you for the loss of the only woman he ever cared about. He looked at you the same way now as if you wounded him the same way again, as if you were making him go through the pain again.

He held you frozen with his cold gaze, making you hold your breath until it hurt, when suddenly, he turned away to address someone else behind you. “I believe congratulations are in order,” he stated in a tone that was anything but congratulatory, “Mr. Gojo.”

“Hardly, but I believe thanks are in order,” Satoru responded, repeating your father’s words and returning it to him. “I have yet to fulfill the purpose of it all.”

You heard the smirk in his voice as opposed to seeing it, unable to move on your spot as Kento kept you steady, merely looking down on the floor. You wanted to do something, anything, take him away from there perhaps. Your father wasn’t worth the time, not Satoru’s anyway. Mustering all the wits you had left, you finally managed to turn around, looking at Satoru to ground yourself. He was there. Everything will be okay…right?

Satoru smiled at you and winked as if to answer your unspoken question. He stepped towards your father, and in a low tone, said, “If you think you can use me to hurt your own daughter, you couldn’t have been more mistaken.” Although he kept a pleasant look on his face, the playfulness was gone, replaced by a threat instead.

Your father scoffed. “Very valiant of you then, young man. All this for my daughter.” He chuckled. “But you said it yourself. She is my daughter, and what goes in our family neither involves you nor does it change things because you suddenly decided you’d want to go this far for her. Commendable, I must say –”

“I’ll take that as a compliment without the catch, if you don’t mind.” He leveled his expression with your father. “Of course, you are right. It changes nothing if you still want Y/N to leave, but she can decide on that without you threatening to tear me down should she disagree.”

You merely blinked slowly as your thoughts were confirmed, but before you could even wrap your head around it, Satoru was suddenly beside you, taking your hand in his, boldly displaying it in front of your father.

“Satoru –”

“I love your daughter, Atty. L/N. And yes, I’m willing to go through lengths to make her happy. I may not decide on that, but I’m giving her the freedom to do just that without anyone, not even you, interfering in it.”

The older male glared at Satoru. “This was all in vain, but you knew that.”

“We’ll see,” the blue-eyed menace beside you stated in that happy-go-lucky tone of his, even having the gall to grin at your father. “Now, if you don’t mind…” He shifted his gaze to you, a love-struck smile replacing his earlier expression. “I have a date with your daughter, father-in-law.”

With that, he turned around, dragging you away, but not before you saw your father fall onto his seat, evidently seething as he watched the pair of you go. But before you could dwell on that thought, you heard Satoru’s laughter ringing through the hallway as he looked back at you with nothing but that tender, adoring look he always has for you, enough to convince you to join in as you both ran towards your own fairy tale albeit momentary.

A/N: Hi, everyone! Just gonna leave this here for now and will update this over the next days one or two at a time, depending on how much I can create per day. Again, thank you for the love. We're almost to the end! Thanks for staying.

TAGS LIST: @arxliana @neeneee @charlie-xo @aelynaneedsalottathing @cloudxp @justpuddinglol @mikkies @nyfwyeonjun @whats-humanity-lol @letthewindlead @whore-of-many-hot-men @localgaytrainwreck @pikibee @bloombb @mr-underhills-things @lysaray @chocoyanchan @poemzcheng @bookswillfindyouaway @dreamxiing @koutaroo @taelattecookie @kazuhasmaid @weebbuscuit @moonmalice @taengkatsu @reagan707 @to0ruu @shirabane @yell0wdreams @r0ckst4rjk @megtheebimbo @tmvll9 @kibananya @ti-mame @niko-ash @minzxec

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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ellewod · 28 days

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if their job was to make me root for team black and be against Aegon someone should have told Tom. His layered brilliant performance showing the pain, vulnerability, humor, and insecurities of Aegon made me root for him more then cold calculation team black portrayed IMO. One scene in particular stands out because of how subtle it was. When his new kings guard is talking about gong to a brothel he says in the softest quietest voice “but you’ve sworn an oath of chastity.” Then when they laugh he almost looks hurt betrayed and embarrassed. Then when they try to be serious for his sake he smiles big and continues trying to be the Aegon they know and expect him to be. It’s so small but in that moment he shows how Aegon took it seriously when he made them kings guard, but once again like everyone else they think he’s a joke. Then he has to put on the mask once more of I’m just kidding guys, but you can see he’s hurt. That’s just one of many little moments that made me team Aegon. Tom deserves so much praise for the performance he gave for a character we’re suppose to hate. He deserves all the awards!

agree with everything you said 😭 love this beautiful roach king with all my heart and tom is a blessing, aegon stan nr #1, absolute best casting choice ever

that scene is SO underrated!!! brother was he disappointed. like you said, he tries. so hard. he never wanted the crown, he was forced to wear it.

i would’ve loved the show to actually portray it as him carrying the burden to save his siblings and his babies. but that would’ve made the casual viewers sympathize with him even back in season one and we cannot have that.

the scene you are referring to depicts so beautifully how hard aegon tries once he is king. but even before that, we see him trying so hard. he wants to be a righteous ruler beloved by the people. he yearns for their approval and adoration, and is willing to “buy” their love.

he wants to prepare his heir, wants jaehaerys to feel his father’s pride and love and support. something aegon was never allowed to feel.

aegon wants to make smart decisions to win the war. he offers so many good suggestions, but nobody ever listens. he, however, is willing to hear advice (“what would you have me do, mother?”), but the ones whose opinions he cares most about disrespect him so terribly (“nothing”, “my grandson is a fool”, “imbecile”, “insolent pup”, …).

aegon even tries to be a good brother/husband when comforting helaena who is afraid (“don’t be. they’d be fools to come” — YES that is him trying, softer voice and all, and i will never interpret this any other way).

he tries to be a better man, as tgc stated so beautifully: “I think he’s conscious that he wants to be a better person. He just doesn’t quite know how. He hasn’t had that nurturing that you require to have a good understanding of values and morals and that capacity to love.”

aegon wants his friends turned kingsguard to try as well. he knows of values and morals and he wants to be better. but his buddies don’t and it deeply disappoints him. he is teary-eyed when he smiles??

he desperately wants to be taken seriously and not to be seen as weak. but rejecting his friends isn’t an acceptable solution either, he needs his buddies, he cannot be completely on his own, he cannot not have anyone to drink with. so he goes back to being a frat boy visiting the brothel, drinking, watching his kingsguard break their oaths.

but before he does that, after having this shattering conversation where he realizes that everything he tries fails so miserably, not even his kingsguard are taking their oaths seriously, he turns around and looks in the mirror.

what does he feel, what does he see? a father who has lost his son in the most gruesome way, just mere moments ago, with no one to share his grief with. his mother doesn’t want to hold him, he is unable to converse with his wife. maybe even ashamed he did not protect her and their son from this fate? didn’t take her fears seriously?

what else is there? a young man, unprepared to rule, constantly ridiculed, belittled and used as a puppet, manipulated by his mother during his darkest hours.

a young man that has been made to feel useless all his life, now forced to be king. and he tries to embrace his new role. tries so hard. but everyone continues to belittle him. nobody takes him or their oaths seriously. and it’s crushing him.

#aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon #inbox #gawddd #long post #aegonlyzing #not a tag for me to overanalyze him

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klwrites · 11 months

Text

Young love 3/3 (Damian Wayne x reader)

Requests!!

Damian struggles to cope with the anxiety of your situation as the rest of the Wayne family still cannot understand how their boy ran away with a girl.

-> part two

“So, you put her in ice, and that made the fire go out?”

Dick tried to understand. Bruce had told him this mission would be very dangerous, with possible brain washing and mind games involved, but he just saw two young people in a hotel room recovering from a traumatic event.

“Yes.”

“Her body needs to go to parasympathetic mode to stop the flames?”

“Because cold water exposure activates the vagus nerve which slows down her breathing and heart rate,”

Damian explained,

“It freezes your body so you physically can’t panic anymore. These flames all seem panic induced.”

Damian wanted to take you back to his house where they could keep eyes on you, and help you manage your powers. He couldn’t tell you that yet though. You were waiting in the hotel room while they talked in the hallway. You laid in bed weak, every time you close your eyes you could see through the perspectives of your dying flames, and it hurt.

“That seems like luck, Damian, Bruce is not very trusting of her right now, I doubt he’ll take her in.”

“It wasn’t luck!” Damian yelled.

That statement specifically pissed him off. It wasn’t luck, when he felt your hand on his face he could tell exactly how you felt, and exactly what you needed. That’s not luck.

“Whatever it was, good luck explaining yourself to Bruce, I’m getting a room next door. Let me know when you’re ready to go and what the plan is.”

Damian returned to the room and slammed the door. What now? Damian hadn’t thought of that. You had no life to return to, and he could help that. But is that weird? Is that necessary?

Damian had start to become a little self aware toward the “bias” towards you he has, and didn’t want to come off strong.

I’ll just give her some money and my number, and leave.

“(Your name)?”

You were asleep again, your life was living through the flames and there wasn’t enough energy for it all. You were weak and recovering. Damian looked at you for a moment, and looked off into nothing with a sad gaze.

I can’t leave her.

However, he snapped out of it, and quickly gathered up money for you prepared with a note. The Wayne boy couldn’t think of what to say, what wouldn’t be overwhelming, but decided on a simple

- Damian

Damian zipped his bag, and while he put it on he took a moment to stare at you finally at peace.

I want her to keep that peace

How could you do that without him?

What would that money even do?

Damian declined those thoughts and declared them irrational, and quickly turned and slipped out the door. He knocked on Dicks door,

“One second!” Dick called.

Damian waited.

Has she seen the money yet?

Damian worried you would think about when he said he wouldn’t leave you until this was over, would you hold that against him?

Damian huffed at his thoughts, and banged on the door again.

“I said I was coming!”

Damian pictured you, lost, looking for him.

Would she even know where she is?

He started to get angry with his brain for not shutting up about you.

Why should I even care? She burnt down my city and made me shoot my father. I should bring her to Arkham asylum.

You weren’t his problem, so he wished he’d stop worrying.

Dicks “second” was starting to feel like too many eternities with infinite worries about you, so Damian turned around. He just wanted to quiet his brain, he’d tell himself.

Damian started to run as fast as he could, unable to bare the thought of you being worried any longer. Not to mention what if you got scared and started a fire?

I never even told her what I did to fix this.

Damian ran faster, he nearly missed the door where you laid. He shakily tried to slide the key in, but missed a few times before getting it right. His chest was so tight.

And there you were, asleep.

He felt a little stupid, and it made him angry. No one’s made him feel like this, it would be dangerous to keep you around if he’d keep acting this way, he thought.

But then again, leaving you lost would be completely immoral, he thought.

Damian set his bag down and sighed. Why, for the first time ever, is his emotions getting in the way?

“(Your Name)?” He called.

Secretly, he enjoyed even the thought of your name. He was captivated by finally learning your name. Damian stood over your bed watching for you to wake, but you didn’t.

Damian felt solely devastated. Defeated.

His voice stuttered your name again.

Nothing.

Dick then entered the room with his bag packed, ready to go.

“Damian? Ready?” Dick knocked on the door while entering the room to find his younger brother on his knees, at a loss for words.

“Damian? Damian, what happened?” Dick rushed to your side.

Damian sat there sobbing, unable to look while Dick observed nearly every inch of your body. He paused his search and stared at your face. It was vaguely familiar.

“Damian, stay right here.”

Dick exited the room, and dashed to the hotel lobby, where his eyes instantly landed on his target.

“Kori! Don’t go!”

Kori turned from the front desk, where she had been checking out of her and Dicks room. Last night Dick was sure to mention his free time alone to her, so she obviously came.

Kori sped to Dick, worried.

“Please, follow me.”

Damian sat still, in shock. The past few days had been completely rushed, unplanned and unwarned. He was on auto pilot the whole week. Now he was just trying to process, process for any mistakes, any answers to this.

The door opened, and his eyes widened in confusion to see Kori running in.

“You’re right.” She said to Dick.

“She looks Tameranian.”

“That would explain the fires.” Dick said, looking into Damian’s eyes.

“Let me try to fix this.” Kori grabbed your forearm, so hers was adjacent to yours

Damian quickly stood up to watch, his jaw dropped.

What kind of miracle would that be?

He continued standing quietly, worriedly watching you. He tried not to get his hopes up either.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud blood curdling scream, he looked up at you.

You’re eyes, glowing green and wide. Cracks in your skin glowed like lava was underneath. The room was warm from the heat of you and kori’s powers, the heat created a wind softly blowing everyone’s hair.

Damian stared in awe at your beauty, even with death two seconds behind you your beauty was more radiant then ever.

Kori let go, and spoke a sentence to you in Tameranian, everyone watched intensely for your reply.

“It appears she has a rare disease that only Tameranians can develop, it causes uncontrollable outbursts of fire when (Your name) emotions are heightened.” Bruce told Damian, Kori, and Dick.

They ended up taking you to the manor to compare your blood to Kori’s and found the disease in the analysis. You were in and out of sleep most of the day, still very weak. Damian and used this time to really get to know you. He realize he could manage these feelings if he handled it right, and he did not want to mess up.

You learned a lot about Damian too, you guys would often compare sketches, or go out to find things to sketch together. You two were out one day sketching some stray cats that gathered in an alley to eat.

“Oh my gosh.. they’re so cute.” You reached your hand forwards to make peace with the animal. The kitty accepted your love fast. Without any noise coming from Damian you continued to pet the cat, neglecting your sketch. Your petting session was cut as the car walked away from you, your eyes followed the cat. The cat walked up to Damian and rubbed her cheek on his knee.

You started to giggle, all the cats in the alleyway were all over Damian, and he was completely engulfed in their affection. You never took him as the caring for an animal type, but it makes perfect sense now. You quickly reached for your pencil and paper, and began to sketch Damian playing with the kittens.

Who knew burning down the school could be the best things that’s ever happened to you?

You both returned to the manor after an hour, so Kori could help you with fighting and learning to control your powers. Today she wanted you to spar Damian, which was your first time sparring anyone other then her.

You two circled each other, then you lunged at him. When you missed you both giggled. Damian playfully shoved your shoulder,

“Is that all you got?”

You playfully shoved him back, but harder, which turned into a full on play fight. You both were snickering the entire time.

“How does it feel, Bruce?” Dick asked, keeping his eyes on you two.

“I don’t know what your referring too.”

“This entire time you think this sweet girl is kidnapped your son, but no, Damian ran away with a girl he’s obviously got feelings for.”

“I had every reason to believe what I believed.” Bruce confidently stated.

“Just admit it, you were blinded by your fatherly instincts.”

“The two are definitely going to go places together.” Kori smiled, looking at Dick. “They remind me of someone…”

Bruce sighed. “I fell in-love once when I was young too. I could tell all along it was just the young love seeping into Damian skull that made him leave. I just wanted to protect him from those feelings. They don’t end well for The Wayne’s.”

“Quit being a Debby downer.” Dick jokingly hit Bruce’s arm.

The three turned their attention back to you and Damian. Your eyes focused on each other. Smiling.

Okaaaayy I didn’t expect people to like this story so much!!! Thank you guys!!! And obviously nothing is ever really over so maybe if one of you guys have a good idea for book 2, I’ll be all over it. You guys would be suprised to hear this whole story came from trying to include Damian with some animals. I made a lot of it up as I went, suprised you guys liked it! Love you guys lots! I thrive off of comments, so pleaseeee tell me what you think!

#batman #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #batmom #damian wayne x reader #dc x reader #robin x you #damian wayne x you #damian wayne

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pxnsneverland · 4 months

Text

Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 7)

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 2838

warnings/notes: blood, murder, pain

Chapter 7: The Breaking Chains

Austin stood motionless as the shelter door slammed shut, the echo reverberating through the concrete walls. Victor's smirk and knowing words clung to him like the chill of the night air.

"He knows," Austin thought, jaw clenched. The secret he had fought so hard to protect now lay exposed under Victor's cunning gaze.

Bonnie's snarls permeated the tense silence, her wolf form still straining against the chains. Austin's eyes lingered on her a moment longer, taking in the wild fury that had replaced the gentle empathy he loved. She would come back to him, he knew this - but for now the beast ruled her mind.

With a reserved exhale, Austin turned to face Victor. His piercing eyes narrowed, ice-blue shards that cut through the dim lighting. This was an unforeseen complication, one he'd have to handle with care.

Victor's lips curled into a grotesque mimicry of a smile, his eyes alight with the kind of manic glee that sent shivers down one's spine. He circled around Austin like a shark scenting blood in the water, relishing the power he now wielded with the knowledge of a secret so destructive it could topple the alpha from his throne.

"Never thought I'd see the day," Victor taunted, his voice laced with venomous delight. "The great Austin Butler brought to his knees by a ghost. Oh, I almost wished Bonnie had stayed dead—or at least kept herself hidden away in whatever grave she crawled out of."

Austin's jaw clenched tight enough to crush stone, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The air between them crackled with tension, an invisible current charged by the looming full moon and the weight of unsaid threats.

"Careful, Viper," Austin growled lowly, the threat evident in his voice, though his words remained unspoken. "Some secrets are best left buried."

"Or what?" Victor stepped closer, his sneer deepening. "You'll unleash the big bad wolf? Please."

He danced just outside of Austin's reach, every word a sharpened dagger meant to provoke, to pierce through the cracks in Austin's carefully constructed armor.

"Bonnie Barlow, alive..." Victor mused aloud as if savoring the taste of each syllable. "The deserter, the weak link, your—what shall we call her? Your Achilles' heel?"

"Watch your mouth," Austin warned, his tone a low rumble of brewing storm clouds, a prelude to the violence he was capable of unleashing.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?" Victor’s eyes gleamed with malice. "This is rich, really. Little Bonnie, back from the dead, and here you are, ready to throw it all away for her. What would the pack say?"

"Enough," Austin snapped, struggling to rein in the fury that threatened to spill over.

"Or you'll what, Austin?" Victor prodded, stepping dangerously close, within striking distance. "Lose control? Is she worth that much to you?"

"More than you could ever understand," Austin hissed, the muscles along his jaw working furiously. His piercing eyes, usually so steady and commanding, now blazed with an intensity that could set the world ablaze.

Victor's laughter sliced through the tension, a discordant note that spoke volumes of his disdain. "Is that supposed to scare me? Come on, Alpha. Show me what you're made of."

"Remember this moment," Austin said, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of an unsheathed sword. "It'll be your last mistake."

The lunar brilliance seemed to ignite an inner fire within him, casting a wild light in his eyes that danced like flames licking at dry timber. With each breath, Austin's chest heaved, betraying the effort it took to keep the beast within at bay.

"Listen to me very carefully," Austin began, his voice low and deadly, the words slipping between clenched teeth. "You will bury what you think you know deep down. Bury it so far it never claws its way out."

Victor, unfazed by the palpable danger emanating from Austin, cocked his head to the side, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He leaned in, feigning a conspiratorial whisper. "Or what, Austin? You'll tear me apart? Right here, right now?"

Austin's hands curled into fists, knuckles whitening as if they were stones meant for crushing. His body vibrated with suppressed rage, the call of the moon exacerbating his struggle for control.

"Always the protector," Victor sneered, undeterred by Austin's looming threat. "But let's ponder this, shall we? Is a deserter worth the throne of the Alpha?"

"Enough!" Austin's voice thundered, echoing off the walls, a clear warning of the tempest gathering force within him. "Your life hangs by a thread. And I won't hesitate to sever it."

Bonnie's body thrashed violently, her wolf form a blur of sinew and fury. The chains that bound her rattled against the concrete wall with each ferocious jerk, the metal links screeching in protest. Neither Austin nor Victor noticed the subtle give in the ancient stone, the way fine dust whispered to the floor with each movement, portending the imminent rupture of her restraints.

"Even if I wanted to," Austin said, the words ripping from his throat like the snarl of an animal cornered, "I couldn't abandon her." His gaze never left Victor, but the intensity of his declaration seemed to stretch, to reach beyond the confrontation and envelop Bonnie in a silent vow.

Victor paused, his eyes flicking between Austin's rigid stance and Bonnie's frenetic struggle. "Your mate?" he echoed, the notion so incredulous it drew a half-laugh from him, a sound devoid of any true humor. "You bind yourself to a deserter, and you expect me to believe she is your destined other half?"

The muscle in Austin's jaw ticked as he suppressed the urge to lunge, his voice low and edged with ice. "Believe what you will, Victor. Cross me on this, and you'll find yourself prey to consequences you can't begin to fathom."

"Consequences," Victor scoffed, yet there was a glint of something sharp and calculating in his eyes. "I suppose we all have our chains to bear, don't we, Alpha? Or should I say, former Alpha?"

Austin's hands clenched, but his posture remained controlled, a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He could feel the pull of the full moon coursing through his veins, urging him towards violence, but it was the bond—the unyielding connection to Bonnie—that held him rooted in place.

In the background, the metal clink of the chains grew more erratic, more desperate. The wall shuddered with Bonnie's relentless attempts at freedom, the cracks around the anchor points widening, nearly imperceptible to the human eye, but a silent testament to the inevitable.

Victor's laughter echoed through the cavernous space, each chortle a sharp jab at Austin's resolve. "You cling to fairytales, Butler? I would've expected more from you."

Austin's piercing eyes began to shimmer with an otherworldly light, a clear sign of his barely contained fury. "Think whatever you like," Austin growled, his voice laced with a dangerous promise. "Lay a finger on her, and I swear, Victor, your end will come at my hands."

The air around them seemed to crackle with tension, the unseen energy of the supernatural world colliding with the gritty reality of their human forms. Bonnie's whimpers blended with the sound of weakening metal, a haunting melody to the standoff unfolding before her.

Victor's smirk was a slashed canvas of hubris, carved across his face as he squared his stance. "So be it," he hissed, the words slithering out like a challenge long-awaited. Muscles coiled beneath his skin, he launched himself at Austin, a viper striking in lethal silence.

But fate, it seemed, had a taste for irony. Just as Victor's shadow loomed over Austin, poised to eclipse him in combat, an audible snap cracked through the tension-laden air. Metal links once bound to stone now surrendered to ferocity incarnate. Bonnie, her form a blur of primal instinct, surged forward with a force that spelled retribution.

The impact was a symphony of snarls and flesh, a dance macabre choreographed by the wild heart of a wolf scorned. Bonnie, driven by raw survival, became the storm, the embodiment of nature's unchecked wrath as she collided with Victor. Her jaws found their mark again and again, the symphony reaching its crescendo as Victor's calculated bravado crumbled into cries lost within the cacophony of the struggle.

Austin stood, the alpha within him stirring, witnessing the untamed justice that unfolded before his eyes. Bonnie's ferocity was a testament to her strength, and yet in every movement, every desperate thrash from Victor, Austin saw the unspoken bond that tethered him to her—a bond that defied the very logic of their brutal world.

The scent of blood and fury filled the air as Bonnie, a tempest of fangs and claws, unleashed the full measure of her newly awakened power. Victor's taunts were silenced by the guttural snarls ripping from her throat, each snap of her jaws a sentence of retribution upon his flesh.

Victor's voice was shrill with panic, his words gurgling through the torrent of his own blood. He thrashed beneath her, his attempts at defense pitiful against the onslaught. Bonnie’s teeth, like daggers honed by nature's hand, sank deep into the sinew of Victor's arm, tearing through muscle and bone with the ease of a hot knife through butter. A symphony of cracks and wet rends accompanied the visceral chorus as she bit down again, her primal instincts dictating the dance of death. Victor's screams became a ragged litany of pain, the sound of his agony mingling with the thud of his body against the unforgiving ground. His fingers clawed at the floor, seeking purchase, seeking escape, but there was none to be found.

"Bonnie, enough!" Austin's command cut through the frenzy, but it was the thunderous growl that followed which stilled the bloodbath. It was a growl that spoke of ancient authority, that resonated with the primordial essence of the alpha wolf.

In an instant, the dynamics of power shifted. Bonnie's ears flattened against her skull, a whine escaping her as she backed away, eyes downcast. She slunk to the corner, her form shrinking under the weight of Austin's dominance. Her once ferocious energy now tempered, subdued by the spectral chain of hierarchy stronger than any forged by man.

Austin stood over Victor, breaths coming in heavy torrents, the beast within him pacing behind the bars of his human restraint. And though the alpha had roared, it was silence that fell upon the scene—a silence punctuated only by the labored breaths of the living and the soft whimpers of the subdued.

Austin's chest heaved, the rush of the fight still surging through his veins as he fought to cage the alpha wolf within. His nostrils flared, taking in the coppery scent of blood that now painted the derelict shelter with its grim strokes. The air was thick with it, a visceral reminder of the violence that had just unfolded.

"Bonnie," Austin's voice was a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the ragged gasps that filled the room. He dared not look at her yet, not until he had fully reined in the beast clawing beneath his skin, begging for further release.

A shudder rippled through him, a final struggle before the beast acquiesced, retreating into the recesses of his soul. With every fiber of his being pulsating from the exertion, Austin turned slowly, his gaze falling upon the ruin that lay before him.

The sight that greeted him was grotesque—a tableau of carnage. Victor's body, or what remained of it, was a mangled mess of torn flesh and exposed bone. The once slicked-back hair was now plastered with blood, the silver tongue silenced forever amidst the garish red.

"Damn you, Vic," Austin muttered under his breath, a complex swirl of emotions churning within him—anger, sorrow, regret. He knew this moment would leave a permanent scar on the fabric of the pack, an indelible mark on his own soul.

"Should have listened," he continued, speaking to the lifeless form as if expecting some semblance of a response. "Should've known better than to corner a wolf."

He took a step closer, his boots sticking slightly to the pooling blood beneath him. Victor's eyes were vacant, a stark contrast to the maniacal glint they'd held just moments ago—a glint that had sealed his fate.

"Could've been different, brother," Austin said, the words catching in his throat. It was a title he had once bestowed upon Victor, one of kinship within the ranks of their kind. But that bond had been severed, cleaved apart by greed and ambition.

He turned away, unable to stomach the sight any longer. The silence seemed to swallow him whole, leaving a bitter aftertaste of the chaos that had reigned. This was the harsh law of their world—the unforgiving nature of pack life where only the strongest survived.

The stillness of the bomb shelter was oppressive, the silence a stark contrast to the chaos that had reigned moments before. Austin's breath came out in heavy gusts as he turned back to Bonnie, her delicate form lying crumpled on the cold concrete floor. Moonlight streamed through the narrow windows, casting an ethereal glow over her body, revealing the crimson stains marring her hands and mouth—the damning evidence of her violent passage into their world.

"Bonnie," Austin murmured, his voice a low rumble filled with a cocktail of emotions. He knelt beside her, his large, calloused fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her peaceful face. The sight of her like this—so vulnerable yet so inherently powerful—sent a twinge of protectiveness coursing through him.

He reached out, hesitating for just a fraction of a second, before gently scooping her into his arms. The warmth of her against his chest stirred something deep within him, but it was quickly overshadowed by the weight of the responsibility now resting on his broad shoulders.

Austin's jaw clenched at the thought of dealing with the fallout. Victor's ambition had been his downfall, but the consequences were now Austin's to bear. He'd have to move fast, cover the tracks, make the death look like another casualty of the gang wars that ravaged the streets above. But first, there was the matter of Bonnie and the truth she would have to face when she awoke.

"Can't hide this from you, Bon. Not this," he whispered, though he knew she couldn't hear him. His heart twisted at the thought of her eyes—those deep pools of innocence—looking up at him in horror when she realized what her claws had done. The confession loomed over him like a specter, a truth too gruesome for words, yet one that could not be kept in shadows forever.

"Should've protected you better," he continued, his voice thick with regret. The burden of leadership weighed heavily upon him; the knowledge that he had allowed her to be thrust into this dark reality pained him more than any physical wound ever could.

With a last lingering look at Victor's body, Austin adjusted Bonnie's light frame in his arms and moved toward the exit. The shelter, once a place of safety, now felt like a tomb—one he was all too eager to leave behind. As he stepped out into the night, the cool air hit his face, and he steeled himself for the journey ahead. There were miles to cover before they reached the sanctuary of his cabin—a place where he could shield her, if only for a little while, from the monstrous truth of her new existence.

His eyes roved over her features, searching for the girl he knew before the beast had awakened within her. She seemed peaceful now, a deceptive tranquility that belied the violence of her transformation. He allowed himself a small, pained smile. The torment that had racked her body, causing bones to break and reforge, was finally at an end. She was light in his arms, her head lolling against his chest as if seeking the comfort she was unconscious of needing.

The forest stood sentinel around him, an audience to the drama that unfolded under its watchful boughs. Austin moved with purpose, each step carrying Bonnie further from the horrors of her first transformation and closer to the sanctuary of his cabin.

"Sleep now, Bonnie," he promised into the silence, "I've got you."

The woods opened up to a narrow trail, the path familiar under his feet even in the dead of night. His cabin, hidden from prying eyes, awaited them—a haven where he could tend to her needs and postpone the inevitable revelations of dawn.

"Everything's gonna be alright," he spoke again, not sure if the words were meant more for her or for himself. The weight of her in his arms was nothing compared to the burden of the secret he harbored, but for now, he focused on the rhythm of his stride, the feel of her breathing, and the promise of safety found only within the walls he called home.

Stay tuned for part 8!! Click HERE to view!

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sidthedollface2 · 6 months

Text

A Crown fit for a God (Part 4)

Part 3

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Ch Summary: A glimpse into how you stumbled upon The Autumn Court, your relationship with Eris and how you fell into Luciens bed.

And/or

Azriel’s jealousy might destroy any chances he has in getting close to you.

word count: 7.4k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, angst, hurt/comfort, war, including injuries, fighting, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, soft Az with a little temper, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: this ch is heavy on the Vanssera brothers but Az does help you towards the end. I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

It was dark when you arrived in the Autumn Court, a blazing phoenix from the sky. Your limbs felt foreign, heavy and unstable like a newborn fawn. Rustling of leaves echoed in your new ears, startling you briefly. Your skin felt unbelievably warm despite the wind chapping your flushed cheeks. This new place had a smell of sulfur and wood. Burning wood. No. Burning flesh. A cough erupted from you as you risked breathing in the air. Your lungs expand with every inhale, followed by another violent cough.

A feminine voice called out to you ‘child open your eyes.’ The darkness soon vanished as shades of orange and amber filled your vision. You sat in the middle of scorched grounds, a ring of fire surrounding you with flames too high to jump over. Your arms and legs blackened from ash and dirt. The ends of your hair burned from the impact along with the threads covering your small frame. A lovely woman stood on the other side of the ring of fire. Panic and wonder in her green eyes, you assume directed at you. She's speaking to you in a language you recognise, but unable to voice your response.

With a wave of her hand she motions you to follow her. Standing on wobbly legs, weak and malnourished from your journey, you stumble towards her. Through the high flame you emerge, unburnt and to her surprise uninjured. “Come inside child. Let's get you bathed and safe,” she insists, wrapping you in her warm words and caring eyes. She introduces herself as Marrian, The Lady of Autumn, wife to Lord Beron of the Autumn Court. You told her your name as well but she quickly decided to keep your true identity a secret and gave you an alias instead. She explains that this cabin is a refuge for her and her eldest son Eris, though his visits have become scarce. After you've bathed and your body temperature has returned to normal, neither hot nor cold, she offers you a warm meal and insists you stay the night.

Throughout the years living in the small cabin became your home. Lady Autumn treated you like the daughter she never had. She taught you how to wield your fire magic and it was through that training that you both discovered you possessed more than just fire. You were omnipotent. Unlimited power surged through your veins just as it had before you fell into these lands. She had warned you, begged you to never show your true powers.

Males of this world were ruthless, lords and kings would take and take till you were nothing but ash beneath their boots. You found out how evil lords could be when Lady Autumn returned to the cabin. Her pale skin littered with purple and blue bruises. Dried blood caked her knees and elbows. Her oldest son Eris carried her to bed, teary eyed and blood stained as well. “I promise I'll kill them all.” Eris' voice cracked as he said those words, his mothers broken body haunting him, leaving a bitter taste of his family in his mouth. He’d do anything for her, even killing his own father for her safety. It wouldn’t be easy killing his father or his brothers. The high lord had an army at his disposal and if any of his brothers suspected Eris was the reason for their fathers untimely death, he’d be killed. And by default his mother as well. “I promise I’ll help you,” you added with fire in your eyes and revenge in your blood. “ A bargain then,” he confirmed. Death was coming for them. Death was here.

Many moons ago

You had met all of Lady Autumn's sons but only one really stood out to you. At least only one you wanted to know on a deeper level. Lucien. He had a way with words that was kind yet sarcastic and witty. His humor being the reason your cheeks always tinted the deepest red. He was incredibly handsome, tall and lean and to your surprise so much warmer than the other brothers. It was warm out when Mirrian requested for her carriage to be well equipped for her outing to the farmlands, where she’d try her way to ease the stressed farmers. This brought you to the outer stables, where the horses were being prepped for their journey. Immediately you took sight of Lucien, a worried look on his brow as he paced back and forth, biting his lips raw. “Lucien? Is everything alright?” you questioned, concern in your tone as you approached him.

Lucien immediately straightened, “Oh it’s nothing to worry yourself over, just…..I promised a friend one of Mist’s foals and it seems neither will make it.” Mist was the mare to Eris' Stallion, Blue. They had bred them as both were of a champion line, hoping to strengthen the lineage. Just as you were going to reply a young stable boy rushed towards Lucien, breathless with how quick he was running, “She’s passed Lord, the foal too I’m afraid.” Lucien sighed as he looked to the ground, a look of sadness on his face. “Perhaps I could help?” Both Lucien and the young boy looked at you with bewilderment. “Don’t be silly, the boys are more than strong enough to dig-”

“I don’t mean to bury them, Lucien.” You looked to the boy then, “take me to them please.” The young boy looked to Lucien for approval and with a nod you both followed. Lucien trailed behind you, letting his eyes admire you without your knowledge. At one point his step fell in sync with yours. His arms swung with each step, often grazing his hand with yours. Each touch earns a flush to your cheeks paired with a shy smile. Lucien takes notice and in an act of courage takes your small hand within his, lacing your fingers together.

The stable is set up in rows, where each stall is supplied with straw bedding for comfort, fresh clean water and auto feeders. Lucien placed his hand at the small of your back, gently guiding you to Mists’ stall. Her and the foal were laying still among the straw bedding, their eyes closed like if they were just sleeping. Kneeling beside Mist, you began to pet her silky golden mane.

Since arriving in Autumn you hadn’t used this particular power, its presence slowly dissipating. You often wondered if you still had it. You gave her a gentle kiss along her muzzle, the first step to bringing her back. Lucien and the boy stared in awe, not quite sure what to make of your actions. You then brought your hands to cup over your nose and mouth, breathing into them the air from your lungs. The same air that you hope would work its way into Mist. With your breath trapped between your palms you began pumping your palms together like the thump thump of a beating heart. For each 3 pumps you’d rub your hands together, creating a spark of blue dazzling light.

Lucien gasped as he witnessed the light orb grow bigger and bigger until it was the size of Mists heart. He wondered what words you spoke into the orb as it grew and grew, he’d have many questions for you after this. Questions he’s not sure he was ready to hear. Once the ancient words were spoken into the orb you held it gently in your hands, its glow reflecting off your galaxy eye.

Lucien took notice that throughout this whole experience both your eyes had changed to the colors of the night sky, shades of blue and violet mixed with sparkling starlight. Perhaps your pale eye had other uses as well. With one hand you carried the orb towards Mists’ chest, right where her heart lay still. And the other hovering over her head. You looked to Lucien and the young boy, “no sudden movements, and please cover your ears.”

Lucien's brows furrowed in question, but he did as you requested. So did the boy.

Once you saw that their ears were covered you spoke the following words and hoped that your primordial power was still alive.

“I am Khaos, creator of the abyss and all that the sun touches. Death has taken your hand but I hold onto the other, for your journey has not ended. Hold onto me like the night holds the moon, and I’ll light your way.”

The orb held in your hand suddenly let out a flash of light so bright it could illuminate up the night sky. The light flickered after that intune to the rhythm of a beating heart. Lucien's eyes almost fell from their sockets as he saw what looked like electrical current coming from your fingertips, sending a signal to Mists head, to her brain. Lucien hesitantly looked away from your magical hands and his gaze landed on your beautiful face. Your brows were furrowed in deep concentration, sweat began to trail along your hairline. Your eyes remained open, the galaxy within them orbiting like the earth revolves around the sun. He could tell something was amiss because your jaw was clenched tight and the force you were using to push the light inside her heart was visible in the tremble of your arms.

Dark heavy clouds had covered the blue sky, bringing a violent wind to blow across the Court. Its roar slammed into the high trees and rattled everything in its wake. You had tried with all your might to push the light orb into the horse's chest to revive her heart, but Death was fighting back. You were fighting back. A battle between life and death when you possessed the power of both. Your Life power was taking the backseat as Death became the forefront. Suppress. You needed to suppress that deathly power. A deafening clap of thunder boomed through the stable; blanketing your scream that ripped from your throat as you forcefully shoved the glowing ball of light into Mists’ chest.

Lucien cradled your weak body as you collapsed from the energy you had expelled. “Mother above!” the boy gasped, “she did it Lord. Her chest rises.” Lucien stared at Mist’s chest as she inhaled and exhaled. “Listen to me boy,” Lucien spoke sternly, “you will not speak of what you saw here or I’ll turn you to ash. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand. Not a word.”

“I’ll reward you for your silence, now go.” Lucien tilted his head towards the wide doors, signaling for the boy to leave.

His gaze traveled back to you, pulling your body closer as if you’d suddenly disappear. He studied the features of your beautiful face in awe. With a feather light touch he traced over your eyebrow, down the apple of your soft cheek, and over the cute slope of your nose. His thumb gently pulled at your bottom lip, and he wondered how soft your lips would feel against his. It had been easy to fall for you, your heart too pure and kind. Tending to his mothers wounds and encouraging Eris to be better. A better male compared to Beron and his cruel brothers.

Lucien leaned in, his breath fanning over your lips, inching closer. The tickle of his breathing caressed your eyes open, taking in the handsome man holding you, his warm hand cradling the side of your face. “You're incredible,” he whispered, nothing but wonder in the way he was looking at you. Your lips parted in a wide smile as you bathed in his praise. He was the most beautiful male in all of Autumn, and you wanted him, needed him in ways that made you blush. Lucien noted your longing and decided now more than ever that he wanted you too. Without another thought he crashed his lips to yours, groaning into your mouth as you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip. He kissed with the hunger of a thousand wolves, nipping and grabbing at exposed flesh. He wouldn't have you in the stable, where anyone could watch. “I need you now sweetheart,” he growled, as he lifted your body in his arms, whisking you away to his bed chambers in a smoke cloud of orange and gold. It was true what you had heard.

The males of Autumn did have fire in their blood, at least Lucien did. When you told him you had never laid in another males bed before, he slowed down his hunger to devour you. He took things slow at first, stretching you open with his fingers as he peppered kisses and lapped at your clit till you were a withering mess beneath him. When he finally sheathed himself inside you, his length stretching you deliciously- Lucien knew this wouldn't be a one time thing, couldn't be.

What was once friendly chatter and shy glances quickly turned into a romantic whirlwind of horse rides and stolen kisses. Giggles under his sheets as he blew raspberries on your soft stomach. ‘I love you’ whispered in heavy breaths every time he felt you flutter around his cock. Lucien was adamant in keeping the relationship a secret, afraid of what his brothers or Beron would subject you to if they knew. It didn't matter in the long run, all it took was one dinner for the fairytale to come crumbling down.

~~~~~~~

You were allowed in the forest house as Lady Autumn’s ‘Lady in waiting.’ your role was to accompany her wherever she went, and assist her in daily activities. She had introduced you as “Khaos” which quickly turned to “Aos” over time. An orphan to a High Lord from across the continent she claimed. It was all lies.

This role gave you the chance to map out all entries and exits of the forest house, familiarize yourself with all the guards and what times their rotation were to occur and even where Lord Berons bed chambers were. You noted his schedule from early morning till late evenings. Eyes aware of his house guests and sometimes the topic of conversations. No other guest shocked you as much as when the entire Autumn line found themselves seated next to the King of Hybern. You sat between Eris and Lady Autumn, a rare occurrence to be invited to sit with the family. Lucien decided to sit across from you, to not strain his neck while he admired your beauty in comfort, his other brothers followed suit. At the head of the table, Lord Beron and the King of Hybern sat at opposite ends, showcasing their importance and power even at dinner.

Beef ragout and cheese souffle were passed around in the finest flatware. The flame from the candlesticks placed in the center of the table gave off a warm light, casting Lucien in a God-like glow. For a moment you imagined it was just the two of you, enjoying a night out for the world to see. “Try the grey stuff” Eris spoke from your left, spooning into the pudding like substance. Surely he wouldn't attempt to feed…

Lucien's eyes widened slightly as Eris brought the spoon to your lips. There were too many eyes for him or you to make a scene, so instead he looked away as you parted your lips for the delicious treat. It was an honest mistake humming around the spoon as the flavor melted in your mouth, a sweet sound noticed by Eris as he gently thumbed at the corner of your mouth. Wiping away the frosting that was never there to begin with. Lucien had been looking down and didn’t notice the intent behind the action but apparently Lord Beron did.

“Seems like you’ve caught my son's eye, little one. I wouldn't object to a courtship.” Your gaze quickly went to Lucien, had they known of your relationship? Was that why you were invited to dinner, to finally let the secret be known? You were about to respond when Beron addressed his son, “Eris do you find this female attractive enough to bed?”

“Father!” It was Lucien who interrupted, “surely this conversation isn't appropriate for the dinner table?” Lucien attempted to steer away from the current conversation, anger slowly bubbling to the surface. You remained planted in your seat as everything unfolded before you. Being a female in Autumn where even if you voiced your choice in Lucien, you had no right to even speak on the matter. The females were to marry, obey their male partner and breed an army of children if her husband wished. Since the High Lord mentioned it, then his word was law. You’d be tortured if you went against his wishes, Lucien would be beaten for even suggesting the lack of appropriateness of the conversation. Your gaze landed on Lady Autumn, a silent plea for help in your eyes. She merely smiled, squeezing your hand in comfort. You realize there was nothing she could do, as her makeup barely covered a fading bruise beneath her eye. It wasn’t that Eris had been terrible to you, quite the opposite. He just wasn’t the male you had fallen in love with.

“I do find her desirable, and I would be honored to court her.” Eris’s amber eyes met yours, a look that meant he was sorry for the circumstance the both of you were in. “A toast then,” the King of Hybern stood, “ to the happy couple.” He cheered, raising his glass in the air before he threw his head back, downing the flute of wine.

The High Lord followed as well as Eris and his brothers, leaving you, Lady Autumn and Lucien to stare at each other in trepidation. Lucien was going to be sick, his skin had paled at the thought of you producing an heir for his brother. Eris hands all over your soft skin, how dare he desire what belonged to him. Lucien's jaw was clenched so tight he was going to crack a molar. Unable to voice his anger or pull you away to keep you safe, he stood, shooting daggers dipped in faebane at everyone but you. You stared at your lover as he drank from the flute in one fluid motion.

Blinking back the tears as he threw his head back. His eyes met yours once again, red rimmed pools of honey ready to overflow from heartbreak. You were unable to mask the pain you were in as easily as Lucien. It occurred to you that perhaps he meant more to you than you did to him. With a heavy heart you brought your flute up to your lips, and a lonely tear tracked down your cheek. You didn’t want this life. You didn’t want to be a Death God. You didn’t want to marry Eris. You didn’t want other people making decisions for you. You didn’t want to be forced. Yet you agreed, there was no other way.

“Tears of happiness no doubt,” Eris cooed, gently wiping at the tears that followed after the first. Lucien had never looked at his brother with such raging hatred as he did now. Eris wrapped his arm around your waist, settling his hand on your hip as he tugged you close enough to kiss your temple. His gaze trained on Lucien for a hint of a reaction. Lucien swore he saw Eris smirk.

You didn’t stay long enough for dessert, opting to be alone with your thoughts. Walking aimlessly through the halls of the forest house, you didn't attempt to wipe your tears. There was no point in hiding how hurt you were, no reason to put on a brave face. You passed through a stone archway that led to a balcony, overlooking the canopy of trees that fill the forest floor. Autumn was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the stars that littered the night sky. The stars didn’t shine as bright in Autumn, they looked dull and sparse. Not at all what they looked like from home. You missed home, the space beyond the stars.

Hushed whispers floated to your ears and you quickly hid behind the stone railing that curved the space of the balcony. “- we were able to modify vegetables and fruit with faebane. The results were successful in potency and effectiveness. We can use these samples in farmlands for mass production, and give high doses of faebane through modes of consumption without the individual's knowledge.” You could recognize Lord Berons voice even though he whispered. “Once we remove the Night Court's High Lord the rest will fall.”

You attempted to peek over the railing, needing to know who he was speaking to, who else you needed to kill. “You’ll become High King of Prythian and keep your title as King of Hybern.” It couldn't be, you felt panic rising up your throat. The King of Hybern and Lord Beron in an alliance? You needed to tell Eris. Your bargain to assist Eris in killing Autumn's High Lord just became more difficult.

Quickly trekking back through the halls you found yourself in front of Eris bed chambers. You knocked softly at his door, hoping he’d still be awake at this time of night. Shuffling on the other side. you heard him near. Opening the door with a soft click, “what do I owe the pleasure?” he purred as he stared down at you. His chest was completely exposed, toned with a light dusting of freckles, similar to Lucien. Your eyes traced down his carved abs, noticing his narrow hips and how dangerously low his night pants hung. You averted your eyes, focusing on the slight curve of his mouth instead. “I have something to tell you..In private, please.” You don’t know why you were suddenly nervous in front of the princeling. “Is everything alright?” he asked with softness in his tone as his back pressed against the door frame, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze by. Still facing the future Heir you walked over the threshold, your chest grazing his warm body as you slid into his room. Eris' head thumped against the frame, ‘control yourself’ he thought, as the brush of your breasts along his chest had left him breathless.

Explaining in full detail what you heard between The King and Lord Beron took longer than anticipated. Eris took every bit of information and wrote down possible outcomes and strategies to counter the mass production of faebane. On top of killing his father another player had entered the game and now Eris' work to bring down his father had doubled to now needing to bring The King of Hybern down as well.

Eris didn’t know how long he stayed hovered over his desk, but when he finally turned towards his bed and noticed your sleeping form, dawn was fast approaching. He didn’t have the heart to wake you, opting to cover your body with his warm sheets. He had no problem sleeping on the couch, respecting you enough to not join you in bed. He’d fallen asleep at the sound of your soft breathing, the sweetest lullaby to grace his ears.

It had been mid day when you both greeted the high sun, bashful in the position you were in. You apologized profusely for falling asleep in the Heirs bed. But he simply waved you off, “nonsense Fawn, what kind of male would I be to rush you off in the middle of the night?” Your cheeks flushed at the pet name as Eris opened the door to his bedroom, letting you pass by easily. You turned to thank him, missing the male that stepped back into the corner of the hall, hiding himself from view. But it was Eris who spoke first, “thank You, for last night. I’d like to see you again.. soon. to talk about,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry about all this,” he gestured at the air around him. “It's not your fault. We’ll figure it out,” you said through a sigh.

Eris wondered if you would ever forgive him for the way things were turning out, he didn’t want to force your hand. Hadn’t even thought about it, but as he pulled you in and wrapped his arms around you in a warm embrace, and inhaling the scent of your hair he was right where he wanted to be. Even though nothing intimate transpired that night, Lucien's imagination planted a rotten seed as he witnessed you leaving Eris bedroom. Eris' hold on you lasted too long to be a friendly hug and the flush on his brother's bare chest told a different story. Lucien decided then that he no longer wanted to be in Autumn, he’d branch out to other courts, and take you with him. But first he needed to speak with Eris.

Present

The rays of the morning sun cracked through the window, and once again you found your side of the bed empty. Loneliness has been a better lover to you than the future Heir. Before you had left to seek out the other Dead Gods; Eris only visited the cottage to see his mother and make love to you.

You hoped things would be different once you returned, but he hardly stayed the night and he was usually gone by morning. You’d never admit his absence made you feel used, causing more pain than you wanted.

After Lucien you vowed to never care for another male again. Never give your heart out willingly. From your experience everything they touched seemed to break, crumble, and wither. They hurt the women they claimed to love and protect, only for them to be beaten and assaulted. Traded to the Highest Lord in exchange for an alliance or merely because the female had the hips and cunt to breed powerful heirs, and that wouldn't happen to you. You wouldn't be touched with careless hands when you so beautifully crafted the very soil they walked on and the fresh air they breathed.

After your morning shower you find yourself searching the cupboards for your contraceptive tea. Placed high above the eyeline, away from Eris and Marrian. You had taken the tea without Eris’ knowledge. He wanted you to carry his child; it would be under your terms and only when you wanted. The decision to bear children would be out of love and with someone whom you formed a relationship organically, not like it had been with Eris.

You found no tea in the cottage. Not even healing salves for your wounded wing from your attack days ago, another injury unnoticed by Eris. You didn’t have the necessary ingredients for either so you traveled through the forest searching for the particular herbs. You could have gone to a healer for your wounds but not for the tea. Loyal to the court, merchants would talk and the last thing you needed was Lord Beron finding out and throwing you in a cell for insubordination. Contraception was hard to come by in Autumn, another rule placed by controlling males.

You were in deep concentration, biting at your fingernails trying to think of the last ingredient for the tea. When a sneaky shadow wrapped itself around your waist, squeezing you tightly just as one would for a hug. You stumbled back at the force in which the shadow had rushed to you. But you were met with a hard muscular surface and gentle hands that held onto your hips for stability. You then felt the cool caress of Azriel's breath across your neck, “You haven't healed your wing yet, any reason why?” He asked. Still in his hold, you quickly turned to face him, a little shocked to see him still in The Autumn Court so close to your cottage. “What are you doing here? How did you find me? Oh my Gods you're going to get killed.” You fire off question after question, glancing behind him and all around in a frenzy of panic and caution. Azriel follows your hurried gaze from left to right, amused in your nervousness.

“Answer my question first and I'll answer yours, deal?” Azriel suggests with a smirk.

“Ughh, fine. Not here though, come on.”

Azriel stifles a laugh as you pull him by the hand, a large overgrown bat following a pretty girl like a lost puppy. You lead him to a giant hollowed out tree trunk, the inside large enough for you both to sit without being seen. Azriel sits on a thick twisted root that's sprouted from the ground, his knees touching yours as you sit opposite of him.

“So what are you doing here?” You begin.

Azriel chuckles, “nope, you answer me first.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, “I’ve forgotten how to heal,” you mumble softly. Azriel scratches at his temple, brows furrowed in clear confusion, “I'm sorry, did you say you've forgotten how to heal?”

“Yes, I have forgotten how to heal, now answer my questions.” you crossed your arms over your chest, adamant in knowing what the hell Azriel was doing in your neck of the woods.

“But how did you forget? People forget names and faces, not how to use their power, “ he prods, striking an exposed nerve that puts you on edge.

“ You know what, forget it. I’m in a hurry, I don't have time to play games with you. I already told-”

“Alight, alright. I’m sorry. Will you at least let me help you?”

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious of his intentions. “Why?”

This was going to be harder than Azriel thought, “I just….I’d like to repay the favor to someone who did a good thing.”

You scoff with a shake of your head. He was unbelievable, but you allowed him to help. It would be a stretch to reach your wing let alone change the bandage. You handed Azriel your satchel with all the supplies you had gathered. He took each item out and laid them out, recognizing each leaf and its purpose.

Azriel immediately notices the list of ingredients scribbled on a note paper in your bag. At the top of the list are the three herbs needed for the contraceptive tea. His eyes widen as they shoot to your pretty face and down to your womb. Nightshade, only found in The Night Court was missing from your bag. One of the many herbs imported to the other courts for distribution. You wouldn't find it in Autumn’s forest.

His jealousy flared slightly as he couldn't imagine another male touching you, seeing your naked figure bare for someone else. He shouldn't be jealous, you don't belong to him, but every ounce of his body is screaming for your attention. Any ounce of affection you're willing to give, Azriel would gladly accept.

Azriel doesn't notice when you remove your top. Keeping your breasts covered with your arms wrapped around your chest, you nestle between his spread legs, wings displayed beautifully like angels from the heavens. His breath hitches as your backside grazes against his crotch, the close proximity doing nothing to settle his nerves. Your skin looks soft and delicate, he almost doesn't want to taint you with his scarred hands.

But the urge to touch you overpowers his negative thoughts and he takes the first steps in removing your bandage. He’s about to caress your wing when he suddenly remembers the sensitivity of his own, “Illyrian wings are very sensitive in this area, I’m about to remove the bandage, I just want to make sure you're comfortable.” You peek over your shoulder giving him a shy smile at his thoughtfulness, “they’re sensitive too, based on the type of touch and pressure. But it’s the only way.” He nods in understanding, and the first glide of his fingers against your skin startles you. “Sorry,” he winces, quickly removing his hands. “It’s Ok, I just wasn't expecting..” You weren't expecting his tortured hands to carry such a tender touch. You couldn’t tell him that, not sure what he would think, “you can continue, please.”

Azriel resumes his attempt at removing the bandage, gently pulling back the adhesive holding against your skin. It was a sick kind of torture having this handsome male care for you in a way that no one ever has, his careful touch is delicate and soft despite his rough exterior. Each brush against your skin felt like a sweet kiss between lovers, healing not only your skin but the broken pieces of your soul. You let yourself relax under his touch, memorize the feel of careful hands nurturing you. Making you whole not only physically but mentally. In your blissful state a soft moan slips past your lips when his fingers glide over the space between your wings. Azriel smiles at the sound, wishing to be the reason for every sinful noise out of your mouth.

Azriel fills the silence in hopes to hush any more sweet sounds that may arouse him.“To answer your question, my shadows seem to be very fond of you. And they’ve been able to track you easily. I’m not really sure why or how but they pick up on your scent, and I just… from the last time we…” Azriels cheeks flush as he remembers your last encounter, “Why aren't you happy?” He’d thought about your previous conversation and how you mentioned you weren’t happy. The admission plagued his mind, wondering what weighed so heavy on your heart that happiness was no longer on the table. And the way you said it so casually made it seem you haven't been happy for a long long time.

You’re about to dismiss his question, your life is none of his business but something in the way he's touching you allows you to be vulnerable.

“I’m unhappy because I’ve lost my way home. Each time I die and resurrect, I come back forgetting a piece of myself, powers I once had are temporarily gone, or I don’t recognize the people around me. I’m just trying to find my way back, but I can’t seem to remember. Nothing is keeping me here but my mission to bring Death to this realm, and the many bargains Ive made in search of home. I have no family to keep me here. No worthy lovers. I feel stuck in a place that only sees me as a tool for their personal gain, And I’m tired of the confinement.”

Your voice wobbles, as you explain the depth of your pain. He knows too well the feeling of not belonging, the loneliness weighing heavy on one's shoulders. Your memory loss after each death explains his earlier question; the reason you don’t remember him and the reason you couldn't heal yourself.

He can’t see your face, but he notices your hand coming up to wipe away your fallen tears. Selfishly he doesn't want you to part from his world. His feelings for you are already so strong, he couldn't bear a life knowing you weren't in it. The Mother was cruel in her ways, he had just found you after 500 yrs only to reach you on your way out. But he’d choose your happiness over his every time.

He listens intently as you reminisce about your home. How large the moon looks from your humble throne, its proximity so close you can fly to its surface. The brilliant stars that shine brighter year after year, their vibrancy thawing the coldest of hearts. Sapphire and violet swirls of the milky way, a visual so stunning it leaves you breathless. A longing sigh passes between your lips, shoulders deflate slightly. “I’m sorry for unloading all that on you,” you shake your head, info dumping was never your intention. “Can you tell me what your home is like? I really liked the stars in The Night Court. It’s one of the reasons I stayed longer than I should have.”

“You don’t ever have to apologize for how you feel,” he says, as he continues to apply the healing salve, its cooling properties taming the angry laceration. “The Night Court is very similar to how you describe your home.” A slight blush travels up his neck, “I’d like to show you where I live, See how you like it there. I think you’d find it more home like than any other Court,” Azriel flusters as he mumbles the words out.

“I’m not sure how that would work out. I seem to have angered your High Lord.” You lift a shoulder in a shrug, “but thank you for the offer.” Azriel hadn’t thought how Rhys would behave if he knew you were a guest in the very city you threatened. How the Inner Circle would perceive you. What kind of High Lord would that make him if he did allow you to visit Velaris. Rhys head wasn’t shoved that far up his ass, was it?

“Will you allow me to help you find happiness then?”

His question has you shocked. He feels it in the way your wings have straightened and slightly flared. No one has bothered to ask if you were happy, let alone help you seek said happiness, certainly not someone you barely knew. Something about this male was different. Special, even. In a world where death and violence was in every court, usually brought on by males. This one had a thoughtful heart. Where men took from you, Azriel had given. He’d offered his services to kill for you. Offer his body to worship you. He offered his scarred masculine hands and willed them to be delicate and soft if only to heal the damaged pieces of a goddess. And now he knocked at the gates of your guarded heart willing to weather the storm in pursuit of your happiness for nothing in return. Those wrought iron gates flashed gold with every rap, Its faint pulse crashes against your heart like a violent wave, pummeling jagged rocks along the coast.

Azriel was everything you had ever wanted in a male and it scared you more than anything.

Then you remembered the words spoken by The Suriel, ‘An invisible thread that weaves and winds, binding hearts two of a kind.’

No. You wouldn’t allow your emotions to get the best of you, so you shut them down.

Azriel stilled. His deep heavy breathing suddenly the only sound that could be heard. His hands trembled in his lap. He felt it, the golden pull towards you. It was as if he was watching himself from above, gripping those iron bars so tightly his knuckles turned white, gold spreading beneath his palms coating the iron, bar by bar. But then you pushed. And he watched as your heart frosted over in stone and cold Ice, protecting itself from breaking. The iron gates doubled down, forging a firewall of blue and orange flame. He would need to jump through fire and ice to even get to you.

“There's a book, well two books I’ve been looking for. They contain the spell I need to remember my past and to go home. Book of The Minds Eye and The Book of Breathings.” It was dangerous telling Azriel, but you had exhausted every option. Bryaxis would look In Velaris Library for The Minds Eye, and if he found it he’d give it to you when you both met in the coming war and his bargain would be done. But the book of breathings was impossible to find. If he knew where to look, then it was worth telling him.

Azriel blinked back to reality confused. Did you not feel the undeniable pull? or maybe you did but you closed off, blocked it. Wait. Was that…Azriel slammed his eyes shut, willing to go back to that place, wherever it was, drag his body across glass and gravel, he didn't care. Hell he’d jump through hoops of fire if it meant you got to be his. All he saw was vast emptiness.

“Did you feel that tug?” Azriel longed for that connection, and had been looking for it his entire life. At one point he felt unworthy of such deep love. Jealousy gripped him so hard he began to resent his brothers for finding their mate. But as he saw how happy and whole they were, their joy had bounced off and with time he welcomed their delight. The Mother it seems skipped him or she didn’t deem him worthy. Perhaps it was the manner of work he was in, who would love such a soul who tortured people. Would his chosen one stomach his work and still desire to be in his presence? He had a feeling you were his chosen one, you had to be with how much he thought of you. Even after all these years searching it had to mean something in the end right? There had to be a reason he couldn't get you out of his head.

“I didn’t feel anything at all. I can tell you’ve tended to many injuries, your hands are very gentle.”

“Oh,” Azriel glanced at your fresh bandage, “your wound. Right. It's cleaned and I applied the salve and new bandage.” he couldn't help the sadness in his tone. He was wrong. Of course he was wrong, you were a Death God and what would a God want with him? You kindly asked him to turn around so you could pull your top back on, “good as new I’d say.” You shot him with a wide smile, flexing your wings, showcasing their movement despite the taut feeling of the bandage.

He nodded in agreement, “you were saying something about a book?”

Azriel caught some of the information as you retold what you were looking for, his mind weaving in and out. Thoughts between this book you were in search of and that lingering feeling deep within his chest. He was startled to hear Rhys' voice in his mind suddenly, ‘We’ve been invited to the Day Court In celebration of Helion’s Birthing Day. Wrap up your findings and report at once. With or without the girl, Mor’s returned with her findings.’

Azriel followed you out of the hollowed tree, pacing back and forth anxiously, “There's this celebration in another court. I was hoping you’d attend. With.. with me? They have multiple libraries and Helion he’s a spell cleaver, I’m sure he’d allow you to visit the-”

You cut off his rambling, a clear attempt at convincing you to the Day Court. “Are you asking me on a date shadowsinger?”

The flush across his cheeks was adorable for an illyrian his size, “ Yes!” he confirmed, “I’d be honored to have you on my arm.”

Gods you wanted to accept and forget about your duties even for a night. You’d be working for Lady Autumn, ensuring her safety in secret as well as attending to her needs. “I’ll be in attendance. But I'm afraid I’ll be on someone else’s arm.”

“Someone else? Who?” He asked, trying to calm his racing heart from its imminent break.

“Eris Vanserra.”

He should have stopped and stayed silent as his eyes darted to your bag. But his thoughts came spewing out of his mouth in anger, and once again he’d let his jealousy take over. “You’re fucking him! That's why you’re looking for contraceptive tea, I saw it in your bag.” Not a question but a statement.

“Who I fuck is none of your business!” You spat with equal rage, power surging through your veins clouding the once bright sky in gloom.

Azriel scoffs, and with a nasty bitter tone he landed a blow so low even his shadows recoiled, “how could you say you loved lucien and then fuck his brother? No wonder he left you!”

Immediate.

Regret.

Your face crumbles in pain as his words form a dagger and slice at your beating heart. As if sensing your sorrow, a roar of thunder echoed nearby, threatening to unleash its ferocity.

“Shit! I’m sorry. Please… I didn’t” Azriel inches forward. You step back, eyeing him slowly from head to toe and back up again, nothing but loathing and hurt in your cold stare. You remained silent but all Azriel heard through the agony in your beautiful face was ‘you aren't worth my time.’

“I don't expect you to understand the sacrifices one has to make when you're in love, when no one has ever loved you! And the next time you decide to disrespect me, I'll be sure to remind you how vile a Death God can be.”

You didn’t bother to look back at him as you walked away.

Part 5

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read, I really appreciate it. :)

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