#so you betray your king / leader / lover for (reasons)

[contrieves-moving]

i just think itd be funnier if luz betrays callisto (& bannon) & then they dont gain any power & the person that got them to do the betraying double crosses them in return

[breadedsinner]

Judith Banters: Varric

Varric: So, Judith Hawke … mind if I call you Judy?

Judith: If you can get us on this expedition and it pays off half as well as you claim, you can call me anything you like.

Varric: (chuckles) Good to know. Although ‘Hawke’ might be better on paper. I’ll introduce you to some people who can get you work, if that’s all right. ‘Judy’ is just between us.

Hawke: I think that’s wise. Hawke is swift, it’s strong. Gives no bearing to gender or country. The less people think of me as a person, the more they’re willing to give.

Varric: That’s depressing … and catchy! I need to write that down.

*

Judith: I take it you don’t get along very well with your brother.

Varric: What could’ve possibly given that away?

Judith: Did you have a bad fight, if I may be so bold?

Varric: No, it’s never anything so cut and dry. He just became this person who only cared about money and influence. By the time I noticed, it felt like he’d always been that way.

Judith: I see. I hope he comes around one day.

Varric: Stranger things have happened, I suppose.

*

Varric: A little birdy told me you served under the late King of Ferelden, and were at the Battle of Ostagar.

Judith: Was that 'little birdy' my sister?

Varric: She told me not to bring it up, but it’s too enticing. A soldier, betrayed and narrowly escaping death, forced to pick up the pieces of their life and start over.

Judith: What a wordsmith, to sum up one of the greatest tragedies in my life in a single sentence.

Varric: Is something the matter?

Judith: No, it’s just I am only one of many refugees, but I was lucky, to get as far as I did, a place to stay, and work.

Varric: With the money we’ll make in this expedition, you could probably share some of that wealth.

Judith: That’s an excellent idea, Varric. I hope to do just that.

*

Varric: Do you think it a bit strange that you just … became the leader of this little group?

Judith: Not really. I organized the guild, I’m the one who brought people on, and I have the most martial experience.

Varric: What about Aveline?

Judith: The most martial experience from someone who does not have another job. Besides, I have magnetism. People feel safe with me, they want to follow my instructions.

Varric: I don’t know about that—

Judith: Varric, don’t talk back.

Varric: Yes, ma’am!

*

(act 2)

Varric: So, Lady Amell, what do you think of your new fancy abode?

Judith: Mother seems to like it.

Varric: That’s great, but I didn’t ask about your mother. I asked what you thought.

Judith: Oh. I appreciate the open space.

Varric: I’m sorry, I guess it’s not the same with your sister in the Circle.

Judith: She passed her Harrowing, and she writes often, at least.

Varric: Maybe she can visit sometime? If the Knight Commander gets the pole out of her ass…

*

Judith: Varric, what is this rumor about me vowing to marry the person who can defeat me in single combat?

Varric: Just a bit of fun! And it helps combat the whispers as to why the most esteemed bachelor in Kirkwall has never been seen with anyone.

Judith: That’s ridiculous! It’s no one’s business as to why I’m single!

Varric: I’m not arguing that, but get used to it, people in this city talk about other people’s business.

Judith: (groans) At least you added that I kill anyone who can’t beat me, it’s only lead to a few sorry drunken arm-wrestling matches.

*

(Act 3)

Judith: (Hums happily).

Varric: What’s going on with you?

Judith: Can’t I just be in a cheery mood?

Varric: You have never been one for cheery, and with everything going on, there’s not much to cheer for.

Judith: All the more reason to appreciate joy where you can find it.

Varric: Uh huh. What’s their name?

Judith: (laughs) If you’re so certain it’s because I’ve taken a lover, why don’t we have some fun?

Varric: Oh, I do NOT like where this is going.

Judith: A gold piece, and you can guess. If you guess right, I’ll give you double, but if not, I keep it. Ten guesses.

Varric: All right, I’ll take those odds. Hmm … Anders?

Judith: Not in a thousand years. Pay up.

Varric: All right, so much for the Opposites Attract theory… Cullen?

Judith: Cullen? (chokes) Oh sweet Maker, Varric, you might want to just cut your losses. You’re never going to guess at this rate.

Varric: No, no, this is progress. I’m thinking you don’t like blonds. I’ll be back!

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Apart but Never Separate

⚔️ All Previous Parts Here ⚔️

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO (knots, slick, mpreg), Viking/god Col, fae Dom, plot heavy chapter, Big Angst™️ (seriously guys this chapter gets intense! You have been warned), threats of war, threats of murder, fairy magic, graphic threats of violence (Col is angry), Dom's parents are gross, talks of baby stealing, treating children like property, the boys separating like the dumbasses they are, kidnapping (Dom, of course), threats of sexual assault, threats of torture, attempts of torture, threats of hurting children, mentions of past murder, mentions of past young sex (Col and Áine), Dom being a badass ☠️ rating: lets just say explicit to be safe ☠️ shared ideas by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Kol'son could feel his muscles twitching with the urge to fight or run. He never ran, like he taught his son- Vikings didn't run, but gods he didn't like waiting around on ceremony for bullshit when he knew the end of the visit would bring war or something like it. Couldn't they just skip to the end and kill the people who hurt his wife and… well, whatever Tom was to him? "Surprise them. Don't show them your true strength until just the right moment. You're a wolf now son, lure them in before devouring. They think you're simply a viking like your ancestors? Prove yourself before taking your win. It will keep others away." A gentle touch on his shoulder and a low voice in his ear told the leader it was Tavis speaking to him. He was surprised at the deviousness but he supposed the twins had lived a long time and run a kingdom together. Part of his heart warmed when the fae called him son but he couldn't let any stray emotion show. The nymph might be right but they still had to be careful. No weakness.

"Should you place me in chains master?" A seductive voice purred from behind them and he rolled his eyes. Eric was getting on his nerves. It wasn't the gay thing, he was pretty sure the vamp would fuck anything he thought was pretty- no, he was annoyed that no matter how many times he explained he didn't sleep around on his wife the bastard still wouldn't stop. He was starting to think it was just his personality.

"No. I want them to see that you betrayed them. I want them to know how easy it is for me to take something from them. Now shut the fuck up and stand in line." He growled low, risking a glance back to see the fanged smirk under the Viking's dark cloak.

"You think I should go back to the-"

"No."

"But maybe Tom-"

"Stay." Kol had already had this conversation with Modig, the halfling was nervous but he didn't know why. He supposed they had equal reason to hate these people. They hurt his omega as much as Kol's. He took a deep breath and glanced at his cousin, their eyes locking for a moment. "I need you here." He let himself be open long enough to soothe the seer before locking himself up tight. He was on edge with another god so close, one who actually knew her own power and what to do with it. He knew he was shutting his mental walls too tight but he had to. She couldn't find any of their weaknesses. Not that they had them.

Ádam greeted his old royals first, standing at the shore and pulling the boat close. Kol hoped a familiar face calmed them but he honestly didn't give a shit. To everyone else there might be an alternate ending to this visit, perhaps they thought the king and queen could return home and there would be peace but… The Viking wasn't so sure. He squared his shoulders and stood tall as the couple came close, followed by a few of their people. It was strange to see the markings he was so used to on his lover and friends be covering these people he despised on principle but obviously the boy had to get them from somewhere. He was trying to see his mate in these people but his beast couldn't see past its rage. If he saw anything but red before they left or died he would be surprised.

They didn't offer arms like his people but they stared at him as if he were supposed to bow. He could feel the corner of his lips twitch as he watched their frustration. He shouldn't take pleasure in their uncomfortablilty so soon but… he couldn't fucking help it. If they expected his respect on anything they were deeply mistaken. He kept hold of his own wrists in front of his body but refused to even nod. "Mom. Dad. Nice to meet you." He wasn't sure which was more amusing, the look of utter shock and horror on their faces or the way a few of his own people couldn't help but chuckle. He was quite sure even Eric laughed, as well as a few of their obvious thralls. "I'd welcome you to my land but considering I didn't invite you…" He trailed off. He could be polite but he wouldn't completely lie. "Please, we've made arrangements for you." He offered, tilting his head to the start of the other village's trail. He didn't want any of them close to his pack.

"I see our child isn't here to greet us. Why would I expect a savage to free his prisoner? I suppose you've tried to lock up our new friend as well, I don't see Megna? How did you train Ádam enough to let him out?" It was the queen who spoke and her voice made his stomach sour. He couldn't help but lock eyes with the selkie in question who rolled his own and made a crude gesture behind their backs. They hadn't ever abused the beta that he could tell but the man cared for his best friends. He followed them after all though Kol was never sure why.

"Your-" The god grit his teeth and swallowed hard. He could taste their blood in his mind. It was like so much bile. "My mate is resting. He doesn't wish to see you and as queen in his own right he doesn't fucking have to." So… maybe he would lie to them a little. He had told his wife to stay home but he knew deep down the boy couldn't handle this. Well, he could, but Kol didn't want him to have to.

"You could have just brought an omega to us and we could have gone right back to our ship. You didn't have to make such a big production of it." She huffed as if they were planning some ritual or something other than the taking of their lives. How funny. They were incredibly narcissistic.

The god felt a chill come over him, his fingers shifting to claws as someone caught his hand before it buried deep in her chest. He knew his gaze wasn't human blue as he glared at them but Tavis kept a hold on his arm though he couldn't stop his mouth. "I promise you will leave here empty handed unless you wish to carry your heads or hearts home. My children will be going nowhere. You failed your own and you won't get anything from me. I don't fucking care if your entire kingdom freezes over. I wish you and your god fucking dead." Oops. Well he'd tried to be polite. He really had. How dare she though, she had to know he wouldn't allow that.

"Oh dear. I told you it wouldn't do to try and negotiate with animals. They probably raise their young like wolves. Of course Damhnaic would find his way here. I'm sure he's ruined by now if even alive but we need someone to offer the goddess. We were told he was with child?"

Did the bitch not hear him? Did he not speak properly? He knew they had a language barrier but they obviously knew his tongue and were speaking in it. What really caught his attention though was that they didn't seem to know he was exactly that- a wolf. They seemed to think he was mostly human? Maybe part fae?

"I apologize for my nephew, hello. You might know of my family?" Tavis asked, gently pushing Kol'son to the side to step up next to him. The Viking stared at him in disbelief but he kept going. He wasn't done yet. "I understand his ways are different than ours and perhaps he comes off a little brutal."

"Oh yes, thank you. We only wish for what we're owed." She sighed as if she were finally talking to a voice of reason and the fairy prince smiled.

"Of course." Tavis purred smoothly, offering his hand. When he held hers he tightened his hold and placed his other hand over it, his gaze locking on hers. "You see, what you deserve is worse than anything he might be able to dream up but under your protection is a girl from a family who's been torturing me a long time. My kin might not be very creative but I am."

Kol'son cursed under his breath as a sheer mist rose around them. Neither of the royals seemed to be able to move as he stared them down as if he was holding them captive that easily. Tavin giggled and stepped close to his brother, the broken fae a near spitting image of his brother but for his long dark hair and different markings. The moment he touched his twin the mist became a wind and the whirlwind picked up so strong there was a small tornado around them. Neither of the fae seemed bothered by the storm they were brewing and the visiting couple seemed under their spell. It was the straggling selkie's he had to watch out for but they seemed too tired to do much. They were looking around with wide eyes, their hands on swords at their hips but Ádam cleared his throat and they shrugged, relaxing to watch the show. Kol didn't even know what the fuck was happening, what happened to politics?

"I don't like people who hurt their children and I certainly don't like when babes are treated like common things to trade. Are your crops so important you would ruin your son's life? Or is it you fear natural selection? It seems your own god's fault that you're dying off but you believe placating her is better than just… leaving to try somewhere new? Away from you these omegas flourish and I believe any others would too. You will not be given any children this trip. If you leave with your lives you will be lucky. Do not test our king or me for that matter. My brother and I are far older." Finally Tavis stepped away and the spell around the four of them was dropped. The twins pointed the way and thankfully Ben and Ádam led the confused group away.

The moment the brothers turned back Kol'son's stomach dropped, they might have been able to put on a good show but it obviously hurt them. Tavis's eyes were dark and blood trickled from his nose. Tavin held up better but his gaze snapped around, showing his quiet madness. "Careful dad, shit." Mod huffed, taking his father by the arm but Tavin stayed close as well.

"Dad hmm? Is that all I needed to do to impress you? Child's play." The nymph huffed and coughed, wrapping his arm around his son's shoulders.

"It was damn impressive uncle but… I thought we were being sneaky and surprising?" Kol'son asked, a smirk tugging the corner of his lips.

"We still are. They don't know what you are but they pissed me off. Besides we have something else to worry about and I didn't feel like dawdling with their distraction. Tom is panicking, I believe the queen has gone missing." Tavis explained as quickly as he could but he must know something or he would have said much sooner. Half crazed or not the man wasn't stupid. That didn't matter to Kol's heart though, it was pounding out of his chest. Was he okay? Were their children? "Tom has the babes, it's the only reason he didn't run to us but I can hear his mind from here. I can also hear your mate though and he's more annoyed than scared. The goddess has called him to her side I believe. That's why I sent them off, we need a plan in place. He's safe for now, I swear I'll tell you if I hear anything else."

Kol swallowed hard and still nearly choked on his heart. How fucking dare the bitch. Had he shut his own mind to his wife so strongly he couldn't hear the boy calling for help? Or was Dom so worried for him he was shut to him too? Gods they could be dumb. They were at their best when as connected as possible. "Why plan? You know my plan." He growled softly, his alpha wanted out and it wanted to slaughter everyone.

☠️⚔️☠️

Dom glared at the women in front of him. He'd been summoned without warning from his bedroom but thankfully he wasn't holding their child while moved. He wasn't exactly surprised Áine would pull something like that but he was still annoyed. Why did she want him anymore? Wasn't he ruined in her mind? "Ew Meg, is 'is the chair you killed ya mumma in?" He spat, he refused to cower to them both. He would not show an ounce of fear because he wasn't scared any longer. He was bloody pissed.

"No. That's the chair my father was killed in though. Your husband slit his throat. Don't you think it would be poetic to kill what he loves in it most too?" Those bee stung lips pouted and he fought not to roll his eyes.

"Meg we aren't killing him. Yet. I want to play first. Why don't you go find something to occupy yourself with?" The goddess almost grumbled and he couldn't help but smirk. The fact that Megna was annoying her already gave him a sick sort of pleasure. He hoped they drove each other insane.

"Boo. You're no fun since we got here. Where's your pet? I want to play with him. He's pretty." The human huffed, petting her nails down Áine's bare shoulder. Who was she talking about? They hadn't brought anyone with them.

The goddess smiled, she'd obviously caught something from his mind and she waved her hand, sending Megna somewhere else as she stalked closer to Dom and sat in his lap. He knew she was putting off alpha pheromones and perhaps before Kol'son she would have been able to convince him she was sweet but he didn't think so. Her scent made him sick. "You didn't know Eric was my toy? I like pretty blonde Vikings. I collect them. I wanted to keep Kol'son as well but…" She sighed. "He got free of me." Her voice was almost as whiny as the girl's but he could tell she was dropping it. Trying to be seductive. There was an obvious husk that promised the alpha was there and if he looked he was sure he would see… something. He was still confused how it worked for females. He needed to focus on the rest though, she might be trying to bed him but it wouldn't work. "Eric is under my thrall."

At that he clenched his teeth. He couldn't be sure if she was right and the vampire was lying but a part of him hoped their kindness would work to sway him. Their promise of owing him one. Lips pressed to his cheek and he shuddered. He didn't like how close she was. He didn't like anyone near him like that except his mate. He'd been mostly naked when she called him, he'd just finished breastfeeding and she was certainly enjoying the sight and feel of him. He could scent it. She licked over his pulse, her hand wandering his bare chest and stomach but whatever power she had she used to keep him in place. "You want to know what a female alpha looks like?" She purred, and he nodded. He honestly thought at least it would get her free of his lap.

She must have heard him again because she chuckled, the sound deep and trying to dance over his skin but it just made him cringe. She could force herself on him, she could even use magic to make him enjoy it, but she wasn't his lover and would never be. She snapped her fingers, her dress melting away as she stretched out in his lap, her ass grinding against his cock and still soft belly. His gaze dropped, he couldn't help it. Of course he wondered what the opposite of himself was. It… honestly wasn't so different. She had larger breasts but he'd never cared much for those. They bounced with her jerky movements but he wasn't swayed. He wouldn't be. His dick rested still limp between them but his sight caught on hers and he forced down bile. Of course it was that part of her that frightened him. Made the whole thing more real.

"I know I'm big baby but you don't have to be scared. I don't show everyone, I even hid it from your mate. Don't you feel special?" She purred but honestly he felt ill. She wasn't that big truthfully, his god was at least twelve inches if not more in his beast form. She didn't even appear larger than Kol as a human. It was strange seeing her, she looked like him without testicles as if they were hidden inside with the rest of her reproductive organs. She was wet between her legs but he knew he got wetter. She didn't seem exactly special in any way but he knew she thought she was. "If you're good I'll be gentle at first. Touch me? Perhaps I could take you both with me and Kol'son could give me children while I keep you to breed." She giggled like it was her best idea yet and when he didn't respond she gripped his jaw bruising tight and forced her tongue down his throat.

Dom snarled and spit the moment she pulled away and he knew he was glaring too hard but he was angry. He was tired of people treating him like a common whore. He was Kol's thrall if anything. "I doubt you can breed or be bred by 'is point. Tha' was your reason for bedding him all 'ose years ago weren't it? You felt how special me mate would be and you 'oped he could give you a spawn. You ruined ya'self Áine. You treated ya magic and ya people like we was nuffin and it rotted you from the inside out. You could fuck me every day for years and I wouldn't catch. Ain't no life left in yas. You should take a note from Fenrir and pass on ya bloody magic but you too narcissistic. You ain't special bitch and everyone knows it. Look 'ow ya followers act. If 'ey as bad as you 'ey stay but anyone wiv a 'eart runs away. You ain't nuffin and you can't 'ave me mate. Kols is mine. No matter wha' you do to me." He knew it was a bad idea but he'd been around his lover far too long and he'd barely ever had a filter anyway. He didn't mean to let so much spill out but… oops? He wouldn't take it back.

She glared right back and turned on his lap, her sticky thighs straddling his, her slick wet core grinding against his still soft shaft. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. "You speak so mean to me. My own kin. I was planning to keep you because you're such a good broodmare but…" She sighed and shrugged. "If I'm not special…" She purred, her claws trailing marks down his chest to rest over his belly. He grit his teeth as they started to press into his skin but he wouldn't scream. "Are you? Through your family you're mine Damhnaic. Not that far back either." She winked and he fought not to whimper. He didn't want to think his blood was hers. "What about your children? Are they special? They're mine too. I could keep them. That sweet little Ronan. He'll be just like you. I could raise him just right. Or even-" She paused and his heart dropped. He knew something was up when she tried to press her nails deeper inside him and she… couldn't?

"Wha'?" He growled, he could taste blood on the back of his tongue and he prayed it wasn't internal bleeding. She hadn't gotten that deep though but he hated any part of her inside him.

"Hmm, I might just need to keep you for a while, just to make sure it's Kol'son making your children special. If you're gifted as well I should strip your magic before killing you." She pouted, pulling her fingers back and licking them clean. "No matter, I'll find my way inside you one way or the other. Just need to clean the trash out first. I suppose I did promise Meg."

Whatever she was saying wasn't registering in Dom's mind. He couldn't focus on anything about his own power with what else she was implying. Over anything else he was begging the universe she was joking. He and his mate couldn't have already made another babe, they'd only been together again a few days since he whelped and his heat hadn't hit yet. "Exactly. I need your heat and yet this little brat is preventing it. You understand!" She cooed, slapping his cheeks as if she were clapping. Seemingly praising him but he wanted to spit in her face.

She couldn't put him in heat, he was mated already. He was claimed and owned by a god hopefully stronger than her. She was a scary bitch sure and she could force him if she wanted but… gods please? She couldn't force his heat. "I'm marked Áine. I ain't some common omega. You can't steal me." He growled, trying like hell to move even his fingers or toes. She had obviously locked him inside his body. She was strong but he believed his husband was stronger. He just needed to move. To call out for the man with his mind.

"Oh sweet prince, I don't care if your heat is for me or not. You're breedable by anyone as long as you're fertile. You can think about Kol'son if you want. Hell, I might." She teased with a sickening grin and Dom knew he was still too innocent for this shite. He tried to fight tears welling his eyes but it was a hard thing. He knew his husband must be coming though. He had to be. He just hoped it was on time. "So which do you want first, pet? My fingers or my cock?"

"Or maybe your death?"

Author's Note/Tags: @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @manicpixiedreamb0y @cole-way-iero28 @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Eeeeep! Cliffhanger! Oops? I hope you liked it and it wasn't too intense, it was a lot to write. I probably should have separated the parts but I couldn't, I was enjoying it too much. What does Áine mean? Is Dom special? What will the boys do now? How dark is Tavis really cause omg 👀🖤☠️

[xoverworkedandunderpaidx]

Drop the Genghis Khan 10 hour monologue

Okay so a few years back I somehow got really into Mongolian history and I bought literally every book that has ever been written about it - spoiler, that's not a lot of books. About 20.

I don't know exactly what first drew me to Genghis Khan - maybe that no one has EVER conquered so much of the world so quickly, and it is very unlikely that anyone ever will again. Maybe it was that quote - "I am the punishment of God," he said to hypocritical religious leaders and corrupted kings. "If you had not committed great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you." Metal as fuck.

Genghis Khan was a feminist in his time - he outlawed the tradition of trading women and girls for livestock or land (and once challenged his superior to trial by combat for offering to pay for Genghis Khan's sister instead of observing the traditional Mongol custom of the groom to live with the bride's family for a number of years prior to marriage to prove his character), outlawed forced marriage so that women could refuse to marry any man for any reason, he outlawed the marriage of girls under 12 and the consummation of marriage under the age of 16 (this meant by law that the ger belonged to the wife and husbands/men had to invited in), he placed his daughters in positions of power and made them queens of his empire (by killing their husbands whoops), often saying that women made better leaders than men. There is a part of the Secret History of the Mongols that is missing, and this last is believed by some to be pertaining to Genghis' last will and testament re:his daughters. His four sons ended up running his empire into the ground because he never bothered to teach them to be leaders - he preferred his daughters for that. Some people think that he actually tried to leave the empire to the girls, and then the boys took care of that by removing it from history, removing their sisters from power, and starting a petty bitch fest amongst their families that ultimately destroyed the Mongol empire in arguably two generations (it's me. I argue. The empire was toast pretty much as soon as Genghis died because his successors didn't have the same roots. They had affluence and luxury and they liked that, they took the empire for their own gain and not to better the world for the less fortunate).

Genghis Khan was bisexual and you cannot change my mind. He had a wedding ceremony with his blood brother, Jamukha, who later went on to betray him and Genghis spent the rest of his life lamenting their lost love. They also shared a ger everywhere they went, so convince me otherwise.

Genghis accepted any children his wives had as his own children, even when they very obviously were not his kids. He also was chill with his wives taking lovers, though they couldn't take another husband.

He loved religion and was the original pioneer of religious freedom - seriously, no empire had done it before. He believed that ultimately everyone served the same higher being/s but in different ways, and that everyone had the right to choose what they believed and how they worshipped, so long as they didn't force their beliefs on anyone else. What he HATED were religious leaders that punished people for blasphemies and crimes that the religious leaders were themselves committing - hence the above quote. He hated hypocrisy. Whenever he sacked a city and found it's leaders wanting, he would punish them the same way they had punished their own people for the same crimes. Oh you cut off the hands of your citizens for stealing but you've been pilfering from the treasury? GUESS WHICH MOTHERFUCKER IS ABOUT TO LOSE THEIR HANDS. You're the local religious leader and you whip people for "perversions" but you're engaging in the same perversions? GET YOUR ASS INTO THE SQUARE, WE'RE HAVING A WHIPPIN'!

Mongols valued tradespeople and artists - if your entire value to a society was that you were noble, the Mongols didn't give a fuck about you aaaaannnnnndddd you were probably going to die. They weren't interested in ransoms or property. What made them so impossible to stop as they conquered was that they didn't make conquered cities their strongholds, they didn't barricade themselves in seige cities and wage slow wars - they just kept coming because they were a nomadic people used to living a life on the road, a life that most armies found unsustainable. It got to the point that political and religious leaders would just run for their lives as soon as the Mongol army hit their horizon because they knew they were royally screwed.

Mongols took in the people they conquered as their own - Genghis himself adopted a number of children, and many people in his inner circle were actually from armies and cities that he had conquered. And these people legit LOVED him. They would (and some did) die for him. I've always been so curious about what kind of person could inspire that type of love and loyalty from former enemies.

Genghis came from nothing, he didn't recruit his inner circle based on social stature or connection. He based it on bravery. Men and women, and in one instance a child that straight up took a up a knife against two bandits that tried to kidnap Ghenghis' young son. He had mad respect for people that would own their shit, people that were honest and selfless. Those were the people he recruited to help him rule his empire. As a Mongol, he believed that the most powerful currency in the world was knowledge. All records that were kept during his reign were brutally honest about him and his failures and shortcomings. "Warts and all" probably would have been one of his favourite sayings. The Secret History of the Mongols was written after his death but honoured this ideology (regarding his flaws, not so much regarding his genaealogy).

He was absolutely ruthless when it came to betrayal. If a conquered city rose up against him, he would burn it to the ground. But if you were presented as an individual before Genghis for a crime (such as theft) each judgement was based on your character and circumstances, and almost every first time offender for crimes such as theft were pardoned.

Anyway I think there's more to this but I could go one forever 😅

[dat-town]

throw me to the wolves (and i’ll return leading the pack)

Characters: rebellion leader!Juyeon & thief!you

Genre: action, kind of enemies to lovers, historical (set in early 1900s like in Mr. Sunshine)

Warnings: some suggestive themes but nothing explicit, violence, minor character deaths

Summary: As the king’s thief, you had been assigned to get back the stolen map of the palace. It’s easy as pie but you would have never expected such consequences of your actions and you certainly did not expect Lee Juyeon in your life.

Words: 8.3k

Author’s note: title is a Seneca quote as far as I know (and I swear it will make sense), also the concept is very much inspired by TBZ’s Road to Kingdom Reveal and Danger stages.

Lee Juyeon might not have been of royal blood but he had definitely been born to rule. 

The first time you met him, he pressed the blade of a knife against your neck, pinning you to a dirty wall in the outskirts of Hanseong.

"Not the nicest way to say hi to a lady," you remarked casually as if neither the closeness of his firm, strong body nor the sharp object grazing your skin didn't affect you.  He was a lot stronger than you, you knew that, it would have been useless to go against him with brute force, so you had to be smart about it.

"You are very far from a lady," he sneered at you, dark messy hair falling into his fierce eyes.

Meeting his gaze, your heartbeat stopped for a moment in fear before blood rushing to your face tinted your pale cheeks in the colours of rosy sunrises. His eyes were murderous and he held his weapon steadily, so you were sure he wouldn't have hesitated to slice your throat if things didn't go his way. He was a dangerous man, you knew that already. With a reputation like his, you expected nothing less.

Although he might have had the reflexes and the wits, he might have been able to find you but you weren't going to just let him win so easily.

"Oh, am I?" you tilted your head nonchalantly yet careful not to hurt yourself because of your own hastiness. Then you elegantly lifted your right leg to link it behind his thigh almost as if you wanted to pull him closer. As expected, he faltered momentarily, blinking surprised at your bold and suggestive move, but that was all you needed to pull out your own dagger from its case on your leg and point it at his abdomen with a triumphant smile playing on your carmine lips. Oh men and their confidence, they always overlooked the skills of women.

Juyeon gritted his teeth, pressing his lips together firmly and as he was looking at you through narrowed eyes and you swore you could almost see the cogs in his head turning. 

"Not that I don't enjoy this but what about we continue this discussion in a more civilized manner?" you croaked a brow at him challengingly to which the guy just let out a ridiculing snort. 

"Well, you could have thought of that when you robbed me," he remarked almost as if he was waiting for you to deny it. But you just shrugged, unbothered. 

"Stealing from a thief can hardly count as a theft."

"But it doesn't change the fact that I want my possession back," the young man retorted and you cracked a smile at that. That wasn't unexpected, of course, he wanted it. A lot of people desired the same thing in those chaotic times.

"Well, I don't have it with me but if you are willing to pay me more than my current client I might consider giving it back. I won't risk my life for nothing. Not even for that handsome face of yours," you teased pressing his buttons on purpose, testing him but the guy let out another snort, this time with a roll of his eyes. He clearly didn't appreciate you joking around but you were dead serious about your offer. In this kind of business you were dealing in, betraying a client had a high price.

"What about you giving it back nicely and I will forget about this little incident?" he offered you a chance to come clean and there was a dangerous edge in his voice, a 'because if you don't...' kind of threat. Oh, so he was the revengeful kind. It didn't really surprise you but he also wasn't the first man promising to ruin your life. But also because of that, his words could not scare you.

"What about I start screaming and men will come and save me from a pervert who pushed me against the wall?" you asked and from the flinch of his mouth you knew you had won this time. Because Hanseong might not have been the most righteous place of all, men still liked to play the hero if a pretty girl called for help. Juyeon must have known this as well, so his silence made you smile. "What about we play by my rules? Be at the Eastern altar of the Buddhist temple by the time the bell rings last at midnight and we might make a deal if you bring enough cash."

“Aren't you afraid that I will just take it?” he pondered the thought but he should have known better.

“Aren't you arrogant to think I would let you have it so easily? So what will it be? Should I scream?” you provoked him on purpose and did not like his smirk one bit. But at least he pulled away, lowering his knife, slipping it back to its place while his gaze wandered down to your rolled up skirt and the dagger you held in your hand.

“There are better ways to make you scream,” he said hoarsely and you couldn't decide whether it was supposed to be a threat or he was just being cocky. But before you could have questioned his motives, he swiftly climbed over a wall, disappearing into the shadows. 

Lee Juyeon was fuming. He hated to lose and for some reason, meeting you felt like a slap. He didn't like that you had something over him, something that he really needed, so he had no choice but to cooperate, something he really hated to do with people he didn't trust and he certainly loathed your fleeting loyalty. Your kind, who didn't believe in anything, always chose the side which seemed more favourable, was the worst in his eyes because you two might have been criminals just the same but at least he did it all for a reason, a greater cause. 

"Did you get it back?" Changmin greeted him excitedly as soon as he stepped into their hideout but Juyeon didn't spare him a glance, he went straight to their safe.

"She didn't have it with her," he murmured grumpily and mindlessly but the other boy was quick to catch on that tiny detail.

"Wait... she? It was a girl that almost broke Chanhee's nose?" he gasped to which the guy he just mentioned threatened to throw the closest object at him which happened to be a stolen jewellery box.

"Thank you for the reminder," he spoke up ironically sweetly.

Juyeon just shot them a disapproving look.

"Yes, it was a very annoying girl," he said, blood still boiling because of the fact that this unknown girl managed to break into their hideout and steal the map of the palace. They worked too hard to get it just to get it taken away by a pitiful thief.

"We will get it back, don't worry, but we can't make it too easy for her because then she might get greedy. Get some of the boys. We are going to pray tonight," Juyeon said as he fixed his sword on his side. 

Changmin and Chanhee exchanged a knowing look but neither of them objected. They knew better because if Juyeon was good at something other than having a tongue as sharp as his blade, that was planning. He just didn't like when things got out of hand.

The temple was eerily quiet moments before midnight. When the bell of curfew woke up all the birds that flew away, Juyeon stepped out of the darkness as well, making his way slowly towards the altar but just as he stepped inside the temple, a familiar voice echoed all around.

“Aren’t you curious why I chose this place?” came the rhetorical question from somewhere in the shadows. “Because the acoustic is so perfect that every little step can be heard clearly. So you better leave your boys out and come in alone.”

Juyeon gritted his teeth and signalled to the others to wait outside. He hated that he was outsmarted by you. Not because you were a girl, he prided himself in the fact that he didn't care about that. He didn't like anyone crossing his plans and you were doing that as if you had the time of your life waltzing through his chess board.

He took careful, calculated steps inside the temple. He halted for a moment when he saw you sitting cross legged in front of a golden statue of a deity. He himself had never been religious, no god had given him a reason to believe, so he believed in what he could see and experience: himself and his group.

"Let's cut to the chase. I brought the money," he said, throwing the bag of coins between the two of you.

You hummed, acknowledging the heavy weight of the bag. But if you wanted to be honest, you didn't really care about money. Sure, it was a good safety net in case your previous clients turned against you but money couldn't save your life, you could have done nothing with it dead.

"Why do you need the map of the Palace?" you roll the sheet of paper in front of you, so both of you would see it: the pretty architectural plan of the most important building complex of the empire.

"Isn't it obvious?" Juyeon croaks a brow at that, glancing down on the paper and the candles nearby, wondering whether you would threaten him to set it ablaze if he wasn't cooperative. If you were arrogant enough to think you could be faster than him.

"Hm, no. I can think of multiple purposes," you told him lulling the options in your head. “But you don't have a good thief. If you had instead of trying to negotiate with me they would steal it back, so I guess you don't wish to rob the treasury. Then again you would have much easier ways to get inside if you would like to free a prisoner, so that leaves me with one option: you want to kill the king. Or someone as important as him."

Him, that puppet king so hungry for power that he didn’t even notice how his advisers controlled him.

The corner of Juyeon's mouth twitches. No matter how much he tried to act nonchalant he was annoyed how well you figured him out. His silence was enough of an answer for you nevertheless. So with a content smile on your carmine lips, you tilted your head in interest, gaze fixed on his sharp lines even in the dim lit temple.

"You know, rumours say that you are the bastard son of the late king," you told him paying close attention to his reactions but Juyeon stayed unfazed.

"And you think I will tell you if it's right or not?" he let out a mocking laughter but you weren't one to take it to heart.

"It was worth a shot." you just shrugged, then looked down on the map he so desperately wanted. "I will let you have it for free. On one condition."

"Then it's not free," he corrected you but the way his mouth tilted with annoyance but eyebrows raised in curiosity, he couldn't have been that bothered.

"I want in," you told him, clear and honest, confident. "If you really want to kill the king, I want to join."

For the first time that night the guy seemed really surprised and he didn't hide it. He looked at you as if you thought killing was a children's game.

"That's rebellion, you know, right?"

"We're both criminals, you know, right?" you retorted and he stared into your eyes, cold fire burning in his dark orbs. Moments passed like this, in grave silence and then...

"Accept her freaking condition. We do need a good thief," someone yelled from outside and you let out a chuckle. At least someone was smart on that team, you liked him already. Unlike the infamous Lee Juyeon.

"If you ever just think about betraying us, I'll kill you myself," he gritted his teeth but you merely smiled at him. You had no plans on betraying them as long as they got rid of the puppet king. And your unpaid debt.

"Understood," you stood up, pushing the map to his chest and grinned at him. "Instead of sulking, introduce me to your boys."

The notorious group was unlike any other than you had met before. They seemed more like friends and family than allies from the way they acted around each other. Of course, you weren't taken to the headquarters right away. You were taken to some inn where a guy named Changmin who seemed the most open to your arrival checked whether the map was real. They also stood guard one by one during the night as if you wanted to kill them. Gosh, it was four against one and Mr. Almighty thought girls weren't a match for him.

You immediately hit it off with Changmin over the fact that you had punched someone called Chanhee in the face while stealing the asset from them the last time. Sangyeon was kind but careful from the beginning. But Sunwoo and Juyeon seemed more wary of you but after you gave the last chicken wing of yours to the younger, he softened, so only their leader was hard to crack. You didn't exactly blame him, he just tried to keep the others safe even if he did it in an annoying way.

"Let's get one thing right: I don't trust you. Your kind, only working for money as if that was your god, not believing in something, that's the worst," he told you one evening, right before you were about to meet the entire team.

"I don't have the luxury to believe in anything else than myself. Never had," you looked him straight in the eyes, no tremble in your voice and then, for the first time since you knew him, Juyeon's eyes had a kind of understanding in them as if he knew what you were talking about.

The next day you were heading towards a temporary base and while the guys warned you about possible checks and guards on the road, neither of you expected any connotation. You travelled on horse backs with a farm-wagon like some nomads trying not to draw attention but each of you were known and wanted criminals, so it was almost inevitable to get on someone's bad side.

"Where exactly are we going?" you complained when you noticed that you took a turn that led backwards from where you departed.

"To the base, like we said, we just don't want unwelcomed guests there," Juyeon gritted his teeth, tilting his head towards the mountains. You didn't see anything special in them but he must have been aware of how ambushes around there worked because it didn't take long for the men to show their faces… or well, their intent. The first arrow pierced into the ground only a few steps away from Sunwoo's horse's feet, scaring the animals and alarming all of you. You looked around, drawing your daggers from your belt but you didn't see anyone in particular. The attack must have come from the mountains, from behind the rocks and the first one was soon followed by another again and again arrows raining down on you like a summer downpour.

"Into the woods! Right now!" Juyeon yelled and everybody followed his order without questions asked, leading the horses among the trees, into hiding. You tried to keep up and follow the guys but it seemed like you had lost their sight while watching behind your back too, checking on the approaching attackers. Eventually you decided to let your horse go, far into the woods, away from the danger on its own as you tried to hide from the men. You were like a shadow thief after all, you were good at disappearing into thin air but not if you had an animal three-four times your size with you. You hid behind a rock covered in green leaves, wondering whether you should have climbed the bamboo trees instead when you heard the steps nearing. You suck in your breath, holding it in to not make any noise while mentally cursing Lee Juyeon and his gang for setting you up. The king must have offered a nice sum of money for proving you unfaithful. Why else would they have left you behind?

Just as you thought you were by yourself, a hand clamped over your mouth, pulling your body close to his.

"Keep quiet and follow me," Juyeon, that impossible guy, muttered before slowly taking his hands off you and yanking you towards the growing bushes in the middle of the bamboo forest. There, between two ordinary looking branches he crouched down and climbed into some kind of hole that was unnoticeable from afar. You followed him, knees and hands dirty by the time you got to some kind of cave where you could stand up finally and you blinked, trying to adjust to the dark.

"Welcome to the base," you heard Changmin's cheerful voice and he lit a lamp, filling the cave with light where everybody was safe and sound. Seeing that and how Sangyeon was in the middle of treating an arrow scratch on Sunwoo's arm, you let out the breath you had been holding this whole time. Back there, you really thought for a moment that they betrayed you already and while lack of trust saved you quite a few times, this time you weren't proud of doubting them already.  Not that they had any sentimental reason to get you to safety, they needed you for their mission, only that, you knew that and refused to believe otherwise.

However, the confession that fell from your lips that evening while passing the pot of jjigae around was more out of a sense of fairness than guilt.

"You told me you hate the kind that works only for the money, right?" you met Juyeon's sharp, dark, ever so telling eyes by the campfire, keeping your voice low enough, so only the two of you would hear it.

"I don't really have much choice. I work for the king to pay off my family's debt. It's this or prison and if I can make some side money like that, why not?" you shrugged, not looking at him. You weren't curious about his reaction or opinion, you told yourself. You didn't tell him to pity you.

A few long moments of silence passed while you pretended to cool the food down while stirring until Juyeon spoke up.

"Then why are you betraying him?"

"Isn't it obvious? A debt to the king has no limit, I would have to work for him until the day I die, he would never be satisfied with less. I want my freedom back," you told him, honestly, which was received only by a hum but you were glad that he didn't drag the topic out, he didn't ask about the reason behind the debt.

After that day, you were more involved in the planning phrase of the upcoming missions and eventually you met the whole team. You went out to steal this and that with Chanhee, playfully commenting on how pretty his nose was and grew totally fond of Haknyeon who made the best noodle soup you ever ate. The more missions you had been a part of, the more time you spent with them and away from the castle, the less chance you had to go back and beg for mercy if things went wrong. That was your original plan: give it a chance and retreat if it didn't work out but you had to realise that these people didn't have A and B plans, this was their one and only fight and they believed in it. It made you want it to succeed even more.

"We don't do this to rule," Changmin told you one day, after practicing sword fighting. "Nobody here, not even Juyeon desires the throne. We do this for the oppressed people, for those who suffer the most under this unfair regime."

It sounded too noble to be real but you believed him. Even more so when you heard that their takeover plan considered the loss of people and that they wished to get over with it with the least victims possible. That was why they needed the plan too: to know the best path to the throne room and the king's and his advisers' rooms without getting in the way of many guards. You also needed to know where and when the soldiers did their regular checks in the palace, so your plan's next phase was to observe the place. Chanhee has some connections and you could have your hideout in a courtesan house close to the royal quarters.

"Change," Juyeon said as he put a pile of pastel green dress in front of you. You looked down with clear disgust on your face before looking back up at a disgust.

"Are you for real?"

"You can't walk into a courtesan house dressed like that. You are a girl," Juyeon's voice was authoritative and a bit tense, you scoffed.

"Wow, now you're saying that," you rolled your eyes at him, still grimacing even when you were told that it was expensive to get said dress. In the end, you had to admit, it was the plan possible way to get in, so you picked the clothes up with a sigh and walked into a further alcove to get changed before your departure. It had been a long time since you wore skirts, those weren't too practical for climbing or fighting, so you preferred pants and anything that made it easy to move quickly and comfortably. So it felt strange to wear something like this again, not to mention it was probably silk based on how soft it was against your skin and you probably had never worn something as expensive as that. You ever let your hair down from the usual ponytail that made sure it didn't get in the way, so you looked every bit of a decent lady when you stepped out.

"Wow," Youngjae gave voice to his awe the moment he saw you and Sunwoo had to nudge him in the side to close his mouth.

The boys were either shy about it or similarly amazed, only Juyeon didn't really react. He barely glanced your way before telling everyone to hurry up. You rolled your eyes at his obvious behaviour and stuck to Changmin’s side on the way to the courtesan house. It would have been too conspicuous if everybody went together, so you formed smaller groups.

The plan was to get everyone to the new base before midnight and observe the palace for the next few days in turns. To make it even more believable, in public you had to act as if you were one of the girls working in the courtesan house, that made it less suspicious for the guys to visit you either and you didn’t care about your reputation much anyways. Not that a lot knew you, the faceless shadow thief, anyways. During the next days you gathered enough information to know when it would have been the best to attack but there must have been a whistleblower around because soldiers raided the courtesan house one of the evenings.

“They closed off every exit and entrance, we cannot get out without being caught,” Sangyeon said while Hyungseo looked out the window, confirming that there were soldiers outside as well.

“Chanhee says they are checking every room where there’s no business going on,” Changmin closed the door behind him. You were on the top floor, so you had advantage in time while the soldiers were busy checking beneath.

“Business?” Youngjae furrowed his brows, confused and got a smack in the head from Sunwoo.

“You know,” he emphasized making hand gestures that almost made you laugh despite the tense situation.

“Then hide and let’s make it look like there’s something here they don’t have the right to see,” you said pulling the fancy hairpin out, letting your locks fall onto your shoulders as you threw your red robe onto the ground, leaving a bit of a mess.

“Oh my gosh,” Youngjae shrieked, scandalized and turned his back on you, deciding to hide inside the closet followed by Sunwoo while others moved behind the curtains.

“Come on, I can’t put on a show alone. That would be even more suspicious than having a tea party here,” you complained, heartbeat drumming in your ears as you heard the approaching steps echo from the stairs outside. You climbed on top of the bed that faced the door and raised a brow at the two guys staring at you as if they didn’t believe you were alright with what you had just proposed.

“Showtime, boss,” Hyunjae decided and literally dragged Juyeon’s jacket off him before drawing his sword out, he stood behind the door in case the soldiers would have come inside anyways. That left only the team’s leader, the guy who had once said you weren’t much of a lady, in front of you, looking like he had some internal conflict.

Ridiculous. It was just a fake act, even if he was terrible at pretending, he could have made an effort. You weren’t a bad face to look at, so he really could have at least not suffered so visibly about having to get close with you. Maybe you just imagined him cursing under his breath, maybe he really was that frustrated but at least you didn’t have to force him to get on the damn bed and unbutton his shirt a bit himself. Great.

“Could you not act as if it physically hurt you to touch m–” you muttered under your breath, annoyed but Juyeon cut you off with a simple movement. He climbed over you, hovering over your body and slid a hand onto your neck, angling your head just right for a kiss that never came. Your lips parted in surprise but his only grazed against it slightly, your breaths mingling in the air while his piercing gaze shot right through you. It felt burning, the way he looked at you with those feline eyes from so close. You could practically feel the heat of his body, his skin scorching against yours – or was it you? – and your heart picked up its speed once again. The wait was nerve-wracking because you felt the tension stiffen in the air while you listened to the thuds of doors opening and closing, soldiers shouting.

When the door your room opened, revealing three men in black behind it, you pretended to be shocked and automatically reached to rearrange your clothes while Juyeon turned his head lazily towards the intruders.

“Who are you to disturb me? Did I not pay enough?” he yelled at the soldiers who exchanged knowing looks, but after looking around for suspicious signs, they indeed retreated.

You let out a breath when the door finally closed again and tried and failed not to roll your eyes at how fast Juyeon pulled away. Hyungseo cleared his throat and said something about seeing the two of you slightly undressed in a bed scarring him for life and one by one all the guys came out of their hiding place, only making comments about the recent events behind your backs.

After the visit of the soldiers, the tense atmosphere slowly dissolves into something like anticipation and determination to get done with their plan as soon as possible. You already had a good idea about the daily routine within the palace but with how frequently they changed their guards it would have been almost impossible to get through them without drawing too much attention and that was the least you wanted. If the royal guards knew about your arrival, you would have been too outnumbered to actually do anything, much less to get to the king himself. But you had a good card in your favour.

"So I will be taking the map back?"

"Right. If we have at least a bit of luck, the king and his men only know that you came to get that. Let's say you had trouble getting your hands on it..." Sangyeon explained which made you scoff out loud. You didn't mean to look down on them but it was ridiculously easy to get the map. Sure they had stood guard and they kept it locked away but a group of about ten guys was nothing you who had been robbing much more secured places than their bases. The most difficult part was to actually find them, after that it was like a children's play. So it somewhat hurt your pride and reputation as a thief to admit you had to waste days until you got it.

"Sure, we can say that I tried to seduce your boss to get the map here," you shrugged and glanced at said guy and knew that despite your nonchalant behaviour your words provoked him based on the way he clenched his jaw. "That would explain even if one of the guards recognized me. Though I don't see much of a chance for that. Although this much time would have been enough for you to get what you wanted from it, so the king will be displeased."

"Will you meet him in person?" Haknyeon asked since that was crucial information regarding your plan. If you were about to meet the king, then they must be there, too. But no, you only met the king once and the memory sent shivers down your spine. You were dragged in front of him, clothed rugged, dirt and bruises all over you as two guards held you. You weren't proud of how you had been crying but that day, you were sure you were about to die. As a daughter of servants in the royal palace, you had no way of providing a better life for yourself. You weren't only a subject to the king but his slave. When you were born that way, there was no chance of getting out. Born as a girl you couldn't become a guard, a soldier or a scholar. It was a time when the higher you could go was becoming a concubine but you had no intention of lying under the king or a prince.  You would have chosen death over that.

But no, the king must have wanted something since he didn't kill you with your parents when he learned about their betrayal, about how they sold information about him to his brother. No, he took your life and made sure to form you to his will, to make the perfect little thief and spy for him in exchange for letting you live. But he was naive to think that you would be loyal to the murdered of your parents. Because he might not have been the one to draw the sword but he was the one who gave the orders, him and not his stupid advisers who made your country rot and the people suffer.

"Probably not. He usually gives me orders through his right hand man," you said, knowing too well that said man had his temperament to match the king's. They would beat you just enough, so you could steal more for them. Maybe break only your left hand to cause enough pain but not turning you incapable for them. You were an asset, nothing more and you hated it.

"What will happen to you because of your latency?" came the next question and gulping down your own fears, you waved it off, forcing a confident expression onto your face.

"Don't worry about me and break into the king's quarters like you should," you told them, clear as the sky was on summer afternoons you had liked as a child.

The truth was, everybody knew what happened to those who displeased the king. It wouldn't matter that you bring back the desired map. If you were late, it was the same as not going along with the order.

"You should have someone to be there with you," Juyeon spoke up for the first time for a while, his gaze fixated on the map without a fail and it made the corners of your mouth twitch. It almost sounded like he cared.

"Are you worried about me, Lee Juyeon?" you raised a brow at him, cunningly like a tease but when he looked up and your eyes met, the words froze onto the tip of your tongue. There was something sad in his eyes, something you had failed to notice before. As if he understood you more than you would have thought.

"Of course, we are all worried about you!" Changmin said vehemently and you tore your gaze away from the raven haired boy to turn to him with a grateful smile.

"Then, focus on not getting yourself killed first. I can take care of myself," you claimed and kept acting like it through the meeting, deciding on the upcoming Lotus festival celebration's night for the attack. There might have been more guards around then but with more guests in the palace, it would have been easier to blend in. No to mention that the king being drunk could probably help too.

It was a good plan, one you believed in. One that could finally bring you peace and freedom. You didn't want to delude yourself too early, so you tried not to think too much about it. If the mission wasn't successful you would have been killed for sure since what you were about to do was treason and no traitor could live in Hanseong.

It was a two way street then: freedom or death. Free from the king's chains either way. Yet, the night before the Lotus festival, you found it hard to sleep. You were fidgety, even snapped at Changmin when he tried to make a joke about you finally looking like yourself in your regular clothes instead of the courtesan one. You apologized and he understood, everybody was tense after all but it showed differently. Juyeon for example was even more closed off and quieter than usual. You didn't expect to run into him at night, though.

It was eerily quiet in the corridors and you just wanted to get some fresh air, outside of the suffocating atmosphere of your room. Meeting him by the gate, however, wasn't the plan.

"Are you ditching us?" he asked in a hoarse voice, back leaning against the brick wall as soon as you passed by him like wind. His voice was more passive and sad than angry and you remembered how he warned, threatened you to kill you if you decided to betray their trust. Sure, you could have ratted them out, saving yourself but did he really trust you so little?

"I don't know. Should I?" you retorted just for the sake of it because it was ridiculous: his suspicion of you even after all this time. But he didn't answer, so you rolled your eyes. "I just needed some air. Just like you, I assume."

Juyeon seemed to complement over your reply but he must have deemed it good enough because he turned his deadly gaze away. You didn't intend to have a heart-to-heart talk with him but since you might die tomorrow, it was your last chance to ask questions like:

"You already know my reason for treason but what's yours? And don't give me some crap like for a better and fair future," you turned to him but you were careful enough to look around before talking about something like that in public.

However, Juyeon either wanted to avoid answering or simply didn't like the place as he bob his head towards the courtesan house and as his sign, you went back inside, finding solace in your empty room. It had been a long while since you had been alone with him and you remembered what happened here the last time when you were this close… even closer. Now you both sat on the ground, backs to the wall, no touching, no smart retorts, no audience.

"Have you heard the story of the Crown Prince?" Juyeon spoke up but his question made you furrow your brows.

"About Prince Hyunjoon? What story?" you wondered out loud as confused as you were. Prince Hyunjoon had been sent to study in a prestigious academy as it had been advised to the king but it was probably not for his own good, there were rumours going around that he had sent the boy away because he feared he would try to take his throne from him. He had grown to be paranoid.

"No, not him. The first born prince," Juyeon corrected you and that made sense, you couldn’t recall anything else that was interesting regarding the next ruler of the country. You believed that after his father’s death, even if he was inexperienced, he could make a better king. He was said to be kindhearted after all.

"Ah, the prince who died almost 20 years ago?"

Your question had been left hanging for a few long moments and you even turned to face Juyeon, wondering whether he heard up but what he said next made your eyes grow comically wide.

"He didn't die,” he claimed so sure of himself that it left no doubts even though it was already crazy. “But he has always been unworthy of the title of the crown prince."

"What do you mean? And how do you know?" you sprouted questions because in that moment you could do only that, even forgetting how it came up in the first place. 

"You see, the crown prince was indeed the son of the queen but just as the king wasn't faithful, she wasn't either. She had her child out of wedlock but raised him as if he was the kind of royal the king desired,” the boy continued quietly, looking down at his hands, playing with a ring on his pinkie finger. “The king figured out and he was furious. He got the queen killed but the boy was rescued by rebels. He was only six at the time but from one day to another, his father who had never been a kind man became his biggest enemy, so he had  grown up seeking revenge.”

You had listened to this story, his story, you were sure, and you couldn’t have been more shocked. You knew that the king was an awfully temperamental man but killing his own wife and a child? And these days he got drunk and had multiple women in his quarters? It made you sick.

“That’s my reason for treason,” Juyeon added slowly, quietly, almost gentle and for the first time you wanted to tell him something reassuring, something so unlike you but it wasn’t your place to pat him on the back and tell him everything would be alright.

“I… I never knew. I have grown up in the palace but I have only heard that the first prince had died and his death broke the queen’s heart, too,” you whispered, suddenly feeling naive but who would have thought?

“Not many people know. He hid it well,” the boy gritted his teeth, then exhaled a few shaky breaths. “But Hyunjoon knows and he’s on our side. He will make a good king.”

You hummed along, agreeing, hoping for better days and that you could live long enough to enjoy those.

"Look, I know you hate me..." you started off, not trying to come off as someone close to him just because he told you this but then, he unexpectedly cut you off. His confident voice caught you off guard so much that it had your eyes widen in surprise.

"I don't," he said and you might have only imagined it but he sounded a bit nervous. He probably wasn’t used to talking about his feelings, even if it was hate. Now, that made two of you. "I did hate you but... I hate everything that I associate with the king and you... I have seen the bag of gold coins paid for killing my mother and me."

Ah. So that was why he hated ‘your kind’ so much. The kind that took dirty money and accomplished any task thrown in their way, even murdering an innocent child. It made sense, the murderous look in his eye, the disgust he had written all over the place whenever he looked at you. He probably associated you with those who had taken his mother away from him.

“I’m just a thief. I never killed anyone, even though some I encountered would have deserved it,” you told him. You didn’t owe him an explanation or anything for that matter but still, you wanted him to hear that from you because you knew how your reputation made you sound.

"I know," Juyeon stated, oddly calm and you were dumbfounded to notice the subtle smile in the corner of his mouth before he turned his head to look at you. Dark orbs finding yours, stirring something inside you. "Your aim is too shitty for you to be a killer."

"Yah!" you gasped, pseudo-offended but then laughed it off and for the first time in a long while, for a moment you felt light and at ease. Who knew Juyeon could make you feel that way too and not just boil your blood in an annoying way.

Looking back, you should have known better. You should have seen that something was off. But your mission was planned so well that you believed the smooth execution was thanks to all those long days who had put into it and all those months and years of preparation that Juyeon and his team had behind their backs in order to even dare such a thing.

Getting into the palace during the Lotus Festival was easy. A lot of people came and went during the parade and the palace was buzzing with life. The king looked like he was having fun as well, maybe a bit too much with how often his glass was refilled with rice wine but his recklessness was only working into your favour. By the time the celebrations became dull enough for the ruler to leave, you left your signal in the throne room, wishing for counsel. It was always like this but you never met the king during these times, you didn’t even mind it. Still, waiting in the half-lit room was quite nerve-wracking while you prayed for the others to be able to make their way to the king’s chambers without any hitch. You knelt before the empty throne, head onto the ground, waiting like a good, loyal subject and you suppressed the shudder running through you when you heard approaching, arrogant steps.

“You’re late,” a voice said and you still kept your head down. But you were ready to draw your dagger any needed moment.

“My deepest apology, Your Majesty. I tried to be as quick as possible,” you mumbled out an excuse knowing well that until the right hand let you know that he wasn’t the king, you had to act as if he was.

“Then you were too slow,” the man grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look at him and with widened eyes, you saw those ruthless ones that had been haunting your dreams since your parents’ death. There was the king in front of you.

But… the whole team had clearly seen him go to his chambers! Then… who was that? Who played that role in the trap? How far would they have gone? What was waiting for the others on their way to the king’s main bedroom? You had to warn them somehow!

"You really thought you could double-cross me? You thought I wouldn't know that you betray me?" the king clicked his tongue, earning your attention again, injecting fear into your veins. You wanted to turn your head, to pull away, to yell at Changmin to go and let the others know but before you could have done any of that, the king pushed you onto the ground.

"Ah, looking for your friend?" he asked mockingly and with a flick of his wristy he called for his guards, the men who carried the luml body of a familiar face.

"No! Changmin!" you shrieked in panic. He was supposed to keep an eye on you, not getting caught. Now, that it wasn't just you in immediate danger, worries took over your chest almost suffocating you.

"Although I should be grateful since you brought my long lost son back home, so I could finish the job my men couldn't," the king tilted his head as if he was pondering over the thought. Your fingers curled up in a fist, glaring at the man with hatred. He played with all of you like a cat played with mice before eating. He enjoyed your suffering and the mind games he played but you weren't keen on being one of his pawns. Not anymore.

Juyeon was ready to kill the king, even if he had to die and in a way you both just wanted revenge and freedom. You had never been a killer but you were ready to die trying in order to end the rule of a tyrant and to save the guys who had become your comrades and friends over the past few days, weeks and anyone who had the same destiny as you. Nobody deserved to have their life hung by a thread of an ultimate made by one side.

So you decided to make a risky move, a reckless one as you reached for the dagger in your belt, throwing it at the smug man the next time he turned towards you. It was a hasty movement, surprising enough for the guards to rush to the king's side but Juyeon was right: your aim was shitty.

Instead of his chest, the dagger barely grazed the king's upper arm and fell onto the ground with a pathetic thud. The man just laughed as if it was funny and picked up your weapon, turning it against you. You gulped as you backed up until the wall. You heard Changmin yelling at you to run while trying to free himself from the guards but you couldn't move, you just stood there, frozen, and watched as the man lifted his hand to strike down at you with the blade. You flinched when he moved, closing your eyes like a coward and only opened them when you felt the man get wobbly in front of you, falling onto his knees from the dagger getting him from behind. Blood spilled from his mouth as his body shook before giving up the fight and you let out a relieved sigh. Such an unceremonious, simple way for a king to die but he didn't deserve more.

"Are you okay?" Juyeon asked, voice honeyed with care and even his dark eyes softened as he stepped closer to check on you, looking for bruises. The same eyes you noticed behind the king when he approached and you had to try your best not to show surprise and relief.

"Yeah. You got here just in time. How did you know?" you gaped at the guy and the others who fought off the guards in the meantime. If the king's bedroom was a trap, how did they get out?

"That man didn't have a limp. I realized he had been a fake one to begin with," he said simply as if it was natural but you had no idea the king had a limp up until now. You still tended to forget he had lived in the palace, close to the king in his childhood and now you tried to imagine him on a throne. It was easier than ever with you being in the throne room with a dead king but Juyeon had never had the ambitions to govern.

"Well, next time you could be faster," you teased, trying to lighten up the atmosphere and luckily, the team's leader didn't seem to mind. His smug smile was back and you would have rolled your eyes if he hadn't just saved your life.

"Will there be a next time? When you're being cornered by a man?" he raised an eyebrow challengingly, a little suggestively but instead of hitting him on the chest, you raised your chin and played the same game:

"Who knows? I keep getting into these situations since I got to know you," you tsked and there was no lie in there. Juyeon smiled at you, sincerely, his eyes holding a secret only the two of you knew but he was practically pushed aside when Changmin came to make sure you weren't hurt, mumbling something stupid about it being his fault.

Juyeon looked around, proud to see his men fight for the same cause and their efforts paying off. When it was finally time for you to leave and start a new chapter in your life, you looked back on the empty throne and the bloody crown on the floor.

“We don’t need a king sitting high on his throne, it’s the time of dogs and wolves,” Juyeon muttered and outside, the Lotus Festival continued as if nothing happened. Smiling, you joined the celebrations.

So this is what it tasted like: freedom.

[loosesodamarble]

Hi Erika♡ for your ask game: 003 with William, Licht, Nozel, Fuegoleon, and Julius if u can

Oh, yay! I finally get to rank some characters! Thank goodness. I do like the other options just fine. But there are three options for a reason, to be used.

Sorry that it took a while to address this ask. It came in later than the others and I tend to answer asks in the order they appear in my inbox.

Now, time to rank some men.

..........

Licht: Big surprise. Licht is my favorite from this group. I may have a gigantic bias because I simp for him. I am weak for men who can and will beat me in a fight and possibly threaten me with a blade to my throat (not saying Licht specifically would but you get the idea). What else can I say? Aside from being handsome, he's also one of most reasonable people in the group. In the past, he was one of a few people who believed that elves and humans could live alongside each other. His optimism and kindness makes me soft. And then, in the present, he shows off why he led the elves. He is kind and understanding towards Patry, quickly recognizes his new allies in the mages of the present, and gives his all in the fight against Zagred. I wish he could've stuck around but the afterlife with Tetia called to him I guess. My biggest complaint (which isn't even because of him) is that whenever I try to look him up, I also end up with pictures of Patry because Patry posed at him for a long time. Long story short, I love Licht.

Nozel Silva: I think he only gets this high on the list because I simped for him. Also me and a very good friend of mine (@/cringeyvanillamilk) have ocs we ship with him so there's some fondness built on that. Nozel is a stern and distant person, to be sure, but he still uses his power for the greater good and acknowledges people's strength (given enough time). He is one of those people that you probably wouldn't like working with but would be glad to have on your side. His relationship with Noelle needs so much work and I'm glad that Tabata has finally made it possible for a greater reconciliation to be made.

Fuegoleon Vermillion: I will attribute my fondness for Fuegoleon to Steph and @/thoughtfullyrainynightmare. He's an admirable man in many regards. He shows a great passion while still showing discipline. In some alternate universe, I might've simped for him. But in this universe, I simply see him as a very cool leader and older brother figure. His relationships with Mereoleona and Leopold are entertaining too, especially Mereo since she is guaranteed person to bring out Fuego's petty side. Overall, a good guy.

Julius Novachrono: The Wizard King himself. I think my opinion of him is a bit lower in this ranking because of how he got nerfed by the story and then the nerf reveal in-universe. Why couldn't he stay awesome and older forever. sigh Still, his presence in the world is so influential. William and Yami, some of the strongest mages in series, really look up to him. Yuno and Asta want to surpass him. Spade held off on invading because of the threat of Julius' power. While I don't find myself attracted to Julius, to all the people who self-ship or have ocs to ship with Julius, you have good taste.

William Vangeance: Uh... the guy is an instrument to terrorism? I get why lots of people like him. He has an interesting magic attribute, a calm nature, and a tender heart. He's also handsome and I'm not even put off by the scar because I already saw something similar in Demon Slayer. But he betrayed an entire nation of people as well as the first man to see past his appearance to find a brave and kind magic knight. All that betrayal just for Patry's sake. Maybe if I grew up with Patry's soul in my body I would think differently but as it stands, I just can't abide by William's choice. That is something that I won't let go of easily. At least he wants to right his wrong but he should've been punished more. William lovers, you are free to love William. Just don't expect me to join easily.

[ofbloodandbullets]

So it’s recently come to my attention that not everyone in the world has actually watched The Old Guard (WHO KNEW?!) so I’m going to try and do some info dumps about the world, the general canon and Andy’s history, personality, powers etc.  This will ... probably get kinda lengthy. 

Also: MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS FOR COMICS & MOVIE.

The first thing you need to know is that for the main part, the history and the world that TOG takes place in is the exact same one as the real history of the world.  It’s set in modern day, though the plot points stretch back to 7k+ years ago.  It’s also important to note that there is a lot of historical inaccuracies and some things in canon that conflict themselves so it’s best to just take it all with a grain of salt and just go with what works best for your particular preferences etc. 

The main difference between reality and TOG is that in TOG there are a very minute like .00000000002% of the population that are immortals.  Now, it’s important to note that these people can die but they resurrect pretty close to immediately after they die no matter the amount of damage done.  Now it can take some time to fully heal or reform, depending on how extensive the trauma (being blown to bits or burned etc. will take longer to fix but there’s no amount of damage that we know of that can actually keep them dead).  

There are times when, for reasons unknown to the characters in character (or to us as readers  of the comics / viewers of the movie etc) that the immortality just stops.  There’ll just be a time that they suffer injuries that just don’t heal, and they die.  There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to this, be it age, number of times they’ve died, whatever.  Now, I have my own entirely headcanon and personal preference based theory which you can find HERE but it’s totally just a random idea that I had that I liked to explain the loss of Andy’s immortality in the movie (that doesn’t happen in the comics) and lets me say that she regains her immortality post canon so that I can nudge things back in the direction of the comics for post movie plots and so on.

Andy is, as far as we know, and as far as she knows, the oldest (human) immortal, coming in at around 7,000 years old.  She was born into a tribe, the Scythia (hence what she’s generally called: Andromache the Scythian).  A nomadic warrior tribe that I headcanon to be a matriarchy, Andy was betrayed by the ‘queen mother’ when she was sixteen and killed in battle because the leader feared that Andy posed a danger to her continuing rule.  This person was practically a mother to Andy and it was a horrific betrayal.  What was almost as shocking to Andy was the fact that she got back up again after being literally stabbed in the back and killed.

In the vein of trying to thwart prophecies making them happen, Andy killed the matriarch and took her placce ruling the tribe, eventually becoming a God King to her people and ruling over them for hundreds of years until her loneliness absolutely overwhelmed her and one day she just vanished.

At some point after this, she began to dream of a woman, feeling a pull towards this stranger that she couldn’t begin to explain.  After dozens, maybe hundreds of years, she managed to track down the woman in question (Noriko in the comics, Quynh in the movie) and realized that they’d been dreaming of each other.  (In the comics she meets Lykon before Quynh/Noriko, whom she had also been dreaming of).  

Now, the connection between these immortals isn’t explained in canon, and for a long time, Andy, Lykon, Noriko (and eventually Joe, Nicky, Book) thought they were the only ones but there is a scene in the second set of comics that implies that there are other ‘packs’ of immortals.  I headcanon that it’s a ‘like calls to like’ / kind of Sense8 simpatico type thing - like minded souls drawn to each other, which is why Andy and the others didn’t know about the other immortals, but again, that’s just entirely my thoughts on the matter. 

Lykon is the first to succumb to the loss of immortality, a short couple hundreds years after he and Andy find each other.   He dies on a battlefield, one that he and Quynh/Noriko and Andy fought on like a hundred/thousand before, champions for the abused etc.  Skip forward a couple hundred years again and enter Joe & Nicky, a Knight and a Muslim warrior who kill each other on the battlefield only to both wake up and spend (an unspecified amount of time) hunting and killing each other before eventually Andy & Quynh/Noriko find them.  In time, Joe & Nicky realize that they love each other.   (Important to note that Quynh/Noriko and Andy were also lovers).  In the movie, when the first major surge of witch hunts began, Quynh/Noriko and Andy go to help the women that stood accused, only to be captured and accused of witchcraft themselves.  After being hung, drowned, burned at the stake and coming back to life every time, the witch hunters settled on locking Quynh into an iron coffin and dropping her into the ocean.  (In the comics, Noriko is lost at sea during a massive storm that had thrown their ship entirely off course with Andy having no clue where they actually were at the time.) 

Joe & Nicky arrive in time to rescue Andy, but Noriko is already gone and despite spending decades tracking down every person even remotely involved in the so called ‘investigation’ into the women’s inquisition and punishment, Andy wasn’t able to find anything about where Quynh could be. 

Cue angst & depression & guilt for ages after.

The trio still steps in over the following decades, trying to help prevent the worst of atrocities, but Andy quickly begins to spiral into an, at best apathetic, at worst, entirely distant and withdrawn mindset and steadily begins to lose hope that they’re actually making any difference at all.

Skip ahead a century or two and enter Book; a Russian conscript who had been forced into the fight after being convicted of forgery.  Hung for desertion, Book spend days dying over and over again as he hung there, unable to attempt an escape until the troops finally packed up and moved on.   He and Andy, Nicky and Joe meet up and Book kinda reluctantly joins their little group.  It’s revealed that Book dreams, still, of Noriko/Quynh and while he can’t tell where hse is, dreams of her still dying, drowning on the floor of the ocean over and over and over like she had been for the last hundred or two years.  

Book returns at some point to his mortal family which ended in disaster when his last remaining son was dying of cancer, cursing and screaming at Book for ‘choosing not to save him’ by making him immortal too, even though it’s something Book had no ability to transfer or make happen.  Between his nightmares, losing his son and a number of other factors, Book decides he wants to end it all but no matter what he tries, doesn’t die and stay dead.

Eventually he’s approached by a pharmaceutical company that has figured out what he is and wants to run tests on him to see if they can unlock his healing / immortality for other people.  Merrick’s company works in league with an ex CIA agent whose wife died of a horrific terminal disease who hopes that they can find a way to keep anyone else from dying if they don’t have to.    Initially it was just supposed to be him, but he’d set up a display to stream for proof of what he was / they were and the corp decided they wanted all of the immortals.   Book ends up betraying the team, and he and the others end up locked up and tested on / killed / experimented on etc.  

There’s another character introduced in the meantime, the first new immortals in centuries, an American soldier named Niles.  There’s a lot more that goes on here, but the main point is that in the movie, Andy stops healing from her wounds shortly after she tracks down Nile and is put into incredible amounts of danger when Merrick (the leader of the pharmaceutical company) captures Andy, Joe, Book, Nicky.  Book is devastated, Nicky and Joe are furious, Andy’s just tired.

Eventually, Andy and the others break free with Niles’ help, destroy the lab they were originally held in etc and set out to try and hunt down any other proof, lab results, anything that Merrick got his hands on during the tests.

The group meets and settles on a hundred year exile for Booker (which I think is one of the stupidest things - like, the man’s clearly desperate and depressed and lonely and mentally unstable so by all means let’s isolate him for a fully century) and at the end of the movie we see him stumbling home to his apartment six months later to find Quynh standing in his apartment, pouring and drinking a glass of water which is a whole power move considering how many millions of times she died by drowning.

In the comics, Quynh/Noriko was driven entirely mad and to the point of wanting vengeance against Andy for abandoning her and spends a while gaslighting Andy and torturing her physically and emotionally and what not until she manages to isolate Andy from the other immortals and scoops in to ‘rescue’ Andy.  IDK what they’re going to adapt this to in the second movie, 

Again, via the link posted above, my Andy slowly begins to regain her immortality (again, IDK what they’re going to do with the next movie).  

Uhhhh yeah.  So I .. think that’s the majority of what you need to know for canon info about Andy.  THIS is also an important PSA regarding my Andy’s history & her longest lasting relationship that has nothing to do with canon at all but that is part of Andy’s bg in every verse, even if it never comes into play.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Cold As Ice. 

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Fae!Yandere!Todoroki/Reader

Synopsis: Todoroki, the King of the Fae, seems to have lost his vulnerable, helpless, idiotic little mortal. He's as displeased as you'd expect, and he does plan to make his anger known.

TW: Graphic Violence, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Animal Death, and Imprisonment. 

One of Shoto’s greatest pleasures was recalling the spring you’d first met.

Parts of it were true. Fae couldn’t lie, but they could omit, and he never failed to find a new detail to leave out whenever he recalled the months he’d spent in the mortal world. He told his court of the weeks you’d spent attending to his wounds and soothing his pain, or the charming cottage you shared and how quaint human civilization had become, since his last visit. With a small smile, he would speak of the livestock you’d tasked him to feed and the herbs you’d mixed into your tea, creating a concoction his fleet of servants could never seem to replicate. His favorite memory was the kiss you’d shared when he was finally healed, before he departed to return to his mysterious ‘homeland’. He loved you, and you loved him in return. It was something out of a fairytale, for him.

He didn’t tell them of the translucent blood that stained your hands for days after you freed him from the thawing ice, or the strange symbols he drew in the snow until it dissolved under the warmth of the spring sun. He never saw fit to mention the mare he beheaded, whose organs he carved out and jarred and kept in your pantry, if only to remind you of your companion’s slaughter. He wanted to make you seem like a willing partner. A sweet mortal who didn’t know better than to love a fae, a soulmate born into the wrong world. But, soulmates didn’t have to be held down to be kissed. They didn’t have to be threatened into returning their admirer’s affections. They didn’t have to be dragged into a land they did not know and thrown at the feet of a man they did not love. They should not hate their lover, not as you hate Shoto.

They should not run as soon as they’re given the chance to.

Shoto thought you preferred him to death. That was his mistake, his underestimation. He thought, if you were given the option of throwing yourself from the window of your tall, lonely tower, you’d be more scared of the inevitable injury that would entail than spending another day in your captor’s company. Now, with a hand clasped to the numb, throbbing shoulder that’d broken your fall and the bare soles of your feet beating harshly against the frozen ground, you thanked whichever gods were listening for his assumption. The forest, with all its winding roots and outstretched branches, was your safe-haven, the brisk air filling you with a sense of freedom, of strength. You weren’t sure how to get back to the human plane, not without magic, but a damp, dark cave would be a sanctuary compared to Shoto and all his fineries. You would be content with misery, as long as you were the one to choose it.

But, it was a hopeful dream. Already, you could hear the crack of hooves against soil, the soft footfalls of those agile enough to chase after you without a mount. This was just another hunt, to them, and you were an animal to be tracked and captured, to be skinned for your fur and declawed and thrown back into the wild because they thought that was better than putting you out of your suffering. Your revenge came in the form of boredom, in how easy you were to catch, in the refusal to indulge their desire for clever prey. Rather, you ran blindly, searching for a hole to hide inside of, a frozen lake their horses wouldn’t be able to follow you across. Simple methods, but fool-proof ones. Strategies even you wouldn’t be able to blunder.

A woman called out, a bird of prey screeched, and you spotted a knock in a barren cliffside, a deep hollow in an overlap of rock. It would be a tight fit, but if you held your breath and worked quickly, you might be able to find your way inside. You’d almost overlooked it in your panic. Surely, if you were quiet enough--

You never got a chance to finish that thought. Without warning, a gust of ice-cold wind washed over you, and something sharp and burning embedded itself in the back of your calf, your knees buckling as soon as the arrow found its mark. You collapsed, catching yourself with your injured arm out of instinct and screaming as a bright, primal burst of pain etched itself into your bones, your flesh, your being. But, that didn’t stop the hilt of your aggressor’s sword from colliding with the nape of your neck, cutting the sound short and sending you back to the ground. You didn’t try to catch yourself, this time.

With some effort, you roll yourself onto your side, gritting your teeth and tilting your head back to state up at the two faeries who surround you. Your found the woman first, a knight with a sword at her hip and a small, tight-lipped scowl. Yaoyorozu, the leader of the hunt, her hair darker than the night sky and her skin pale enough to put the falling snow to shame. A beauty, like all her kin, almost human if you looked beyond her swirling eyes and the pointed tips of her ears and nails. You had to remind yourself that she was one of the reasons for your current vulnerability.

Beside her was Shoto, a bow slung over his shoulder and an arrow missing from his impeccable quiver. His expression did little to betray him, all regal neutrality and flawless perfection, but his anger was present in his wings, outstretched and taunt behind him, in his white-knuckled grip on his chosen weapon. You met his eyes, and in a moment, his hand was around the shaft of another arrow, ready to send it through your chest with little more than a flick of his wrist. When he realized what he was doing, he dropped it, a fleeting look of self-scrutiny and pity passing across his expression. You could try to convince yourself that it’d been a reflex, that he didn’t truly want to be more destructive than he had to be, but you’d be lying if you tried to say there wasn’t the slightest hint of hesitation. Just another sign that his generosity wasn’t the reason for his delicacy.

He simply didn’t want to break his newest toy so quickly.

Yaoyorozu spoke first, addressing her ruler rather than her prisoner. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been treated as more than an extension of your captor. “I can call the others,” She said, her gaze flickering vaguely over the blood pooling underneath you. “We’ll need a healer if you want your pet to walk without a limp. I didn’t think to bring one, but the castle isn’t far.”

“I’ll handle it,” He replied, kneeling beside you. So close, you could make out the thin lines running through his translucent wings, flowers of ice and glass that deserved a better place to bloom. The corner of his left-most wing was scarred over, burnt to a leathery crisp, not unlike the matching scar over his nearest eye. In the back of your mind, you fantasized about what it would be like to rip them from his back, to crush thin skin and impossible formations in the palm of your hand and render him as flightless as yourself. Shoto chose to pretend he didn’t know what you were thinking about. “This is my responsibility. Gather your pack and have a medic waiting for when I return.” He paused, letting his temper flare with a narrow-eyed glance in your direction. “You shouldn’t have to rush, I intend to take my time.”

Yaoyorozu bit the inside of her cheek, but she didn’t protest. Rather, she nodded, bowing her head as she turned, following her footprints back into the tangled woods. As soon as she’d disappeared into the darkness, Shoto took the time to sigh, to glare properly the next time he bothered to face you. His bow fell to the ground, abandoned and forgotten. You weren’t particularly concerned.  He had a dozen more waiting to be used on something helpless and disobedient.

“You humiliated me,” He started, his hand drifting to your injury, freeing his arrow before a gloved thumb drove itself into the open wound, his touch as agonizing as a hot iron rod against unprotected skin. You had to fight not to lash out, to condemn yourself to a fate worse than momentary discomfort. There was still a knife sheathed at his belt, and you could only be thankful he hadn’t thought to use it. “I trusted you to go without restraints, to go without guards, and the first thing you think to do is prove to my subjects that my lover would rather risk death than be with me. Tell me, does that sound like behavior I should reward?”

You didn’t answer. Your arm was going numb, equal parts due to the fracture and the chill, and you couldn’t tell him anything he wanted to hear. That’s what it came down to, in the end. How you could make Shoto happy, even if he claimed to be willing to return the favor.

He shook his head, pulling away from your wound and taking up your chin. His hold wasn’t tight, nor did he make an effort to force you into a submission more demeaning than your current surrender, but those small shows of grace were nullified by the feeling of your own warm blood beginning to stain your skin. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

You didn’t have to think. You barely had to open your mouth. As soon as your lips parted, the words were already falling from your tongue, a blunt, shallow river of things you knew you’d regret. Things Shoto would make you regret. “Eat shit and die. You can impale yourself on your own crown, for all I care.”

His frown barely wavered. There was a beat of silence, an idle evaluation of your current state, but his disdain was never vocalized. He didn’t bother to. He didn’t have to.

You didn’t see his hand move, not before the grip of his knife was making contact with the back of your head, your vision going black before pain had a chance to follow.

~

Your contempt for the Winter Court was the only thing that rivaled your loathing for Shoto.

It was a place of joyless, merciless conduct, of cruel smiles and stone painted with gore, although the colorless blood of fae rendered the violence a sightless affair. Two guards were flanked at your sides, but neither dared to look at you, staring straight ahead as they opened the massive oak doors of Shoto’s throne room. The quiet was heavy, tense, but you didn’t attempt to make conversation, not as the panels of wood slid away and a narrow carpet came into view, a rich navy to guide all newcomers to the elevated stage on the otherwise of the room. He could’ve easily come to you, sent a servant to alert him when you awoke or been waiting there himself, but he wanted a show. He wanted you to grovel at his feet, and he wanted his subjects to see you do it.

Oftentimes, you wished you’d been taken by a member of the Summer Court. You wished you’d never been taken at all, of course, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what it would like to exist in a land without ice and sleet and stares that are only barely concealed. You’d visited their valley once or twice with Shoto, and although they weren’t any less wicked than their cold-blooded counterparts, they hid their malicious intent under charms and spells and tricks, traps that kept their victims rooted out of delusion rather than fear. It’d be a deceptive fate, but compared to the reality of the Winter Court, it couldn’t be unpleasant. If Shoto could simply invoke your name when he craved control, you wouldn’t be favoring your right leg over your left as you dragged yourself down the well-tread pathway.

There were sneers from the stands as you passed by, harsh whispers of rumors and tales that were just untrue enough to burn at their tongues as they spoke. You tried not to pay them any mind, but it was difficult. Your latest ‘betrayal’, as Shoto had put it, would only fuel their distaste for their ruler’s mortal partner. Perhaps if you were something else, they’d be entranced. If you were an abnormality or a beast or something dangerous, you’d be able to do more than run and make noise and disobey rules they hadn’t thought not to follow. But, you were human, so you were boring. A feral mutt whose tricks had long-since grown old.  

You came to a stop in front of Shoto’s throne, a massive structure of silver and velvet and ornate carvings of every woodland animal you could imagine. You didn’t attempt to meet his eyes, only dropping to one knee, assuming the position he’d force you into, if you didn’t fall into on your own. You didn’t speak, though, letting Shoto greet you with a tone so stoic, you had to wonder whether this was a punishment or an execution. “How are your injuries?”

“I’ll live, unfortunately,” You replied, under your breath, rolling your shoulder back, making an effort not to wince. You didn’t want to show weakness, not when he was already so far above you. “The healers say I’ll need a few days to recover fully. That won’t interfere with…” You trailed off, your eyes flickering around the courtroom. Searching for any sign of a looming threat. “That won’t interfere with what you have planned, will it?”

He huffed, a small pout pulling at the corners of his mouth, but he accepted the announcement without further argument, leaning back and letting his chin come to rest on a closed fist. With his free hand, he gestured for you to come closer, an indolent wave barely worth the energy it took to execute. Slowly, you pushed yourself to your feet, only pausing when Shoto tapped his thigh. Disappointment washed over you, but any shock was minimal. If he couldn’t have his revenge, then your shame would serve as a consolation prize.

You clung to your last scraps of dignity, keeping your expression stern and your posture rigid, but Shoto freed you of that with an arm around your waist, dragging you into his lap, your side soon flush against his chest and your back pressed against his armrest, your legs left to tangle with his. He was quick to deflate, to melt into you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, the affection intimate and sickeningly underserved. The tips of sharpened teeth brushed against your skin, but thankfully, abstained from taking root. The last thing you wanted was another wound to fret over. “Can’t you bring me the smallest relief?” He asked, chilled breath washing over your skin, earning a shudder. “An apology, words of remorse, a purpose, anything. I don’t want to be bitter with you, beloved. Any sign that you care for me is a sign I’ll take to heart.”

He sounded exhausted, exasperated. You attempted not to let his disposition faze you, keeping your gaze fixed on the furthest stone wall. “My words would bring you no comfort,” You muttered, more to reassure yourself than to convince him. “There’s nothing I can say to quell your anger. You saw what I did, and you know why I did it. An excuse would only frustrate you.”

You felt him grit his teeth, his hold around you tightening. His wings flickered before resuming their trained motionlessness. “You have no reason to despise me--”

“I have every reason.” You didn’t wait for him to finish, nor did you have any interest in letting him. This was a dance you’d practiced many times, a song you could identify from a single note. You would sing along, but you wouldn’t let Shoto act as if you’d never done so before. He didn’t deserve your patience. “I’m a prisoner here, Todoroki, I’m your prisoner. You provide for me, and I understand that you think you’re being kind, but no amount of luxury can make this place my home. I don’t belong here, I’m…” You were different. You were alien. You were lesser. “I’m not meant to be here. I’m not meant to be with you.”

Early on in your captivity, you’d convinced one of Shoto’s servants to smuggle an iron knife into your chambers, the weapon forged in the human world and stolen from a fae noble with questionable intentions. When Shoto next visited you, letting his guard down in favor of rambling on about his day and the ongoings of his court, you’d driven the dagger blindly into his chest over and over and over again, only stopping when one of his knights dragged you off of his limp body. You didn’t have to say it’d been useless. Cold Iron was effective on most creatures, but you’d need something much stronger to kill a fae as powerful as Shoto, whose veins took the shape of snowflakes and whose wrath bunt with the heat of glowing embers. The servant was killed by sunset and your knife was melted down into two nails, both of which were then driven into your heels as retribution. You hadn’t been able to walk for a month, but Shoto told you time and time again that he was being lenient, that was being merciful. You’d believed him. The fire in his eyes had nearly been enough to melt his frozen heart.

Compared to his current rage, his fury back then seemed like child’s play.

“A prisoner, you see yourself as a prisoner,” He spat, pointed talons biting into your hip, cutting through fabric and skin and drawing blood before he thought to stop. “I’ve never asked anything of you. I gave you a castle, beautiful clothes, a life befitting divinity, and you say you feel like a prisoner just because I urge you to tolerate me in return.”  He paused, scoffing, letting out a breathy, humorless laugh before he went on. “If you’re a prisoner, you’re a rather coddled one. That’s my fault, isn’t it? How can I expect you to learn your place when I treat you like a lapdog?”

“That’s not what I meant,” You responded, hastily, avoiding his question. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m only trying to--”

“You’re trying to earn your discipline, apparently,” He warned, nearly snarling against your shoulder. His fingers found their way to your hair, taking you by the scalp and jerking you backward, just far enough to allow him to glare, to bare his teeth and growl. “I’ve kept you safe. I’ve let you live in leisure because I wanted to believe your pathetic human mind would let you be motivated by gratitude, rather than fear. I can see that allowing you to love me on your own terms isn’t an option, anymore.” He wretched you upward, forcing you to straighten your back, a pitiful whimper escaping from your lips before you could suppress it. “If you think you’re a prisoner, then I’d be more than happy to treat you like a prisoner. It’d be a shame not to give you what you’ve been begging for, wouldn’t it?”

You moved to argue, to apologize, to do whatever would sway Shoto’s resolve, but by the time you opened your mouth, he was already calling over his guards, metal gauntlets soon clamped around your forearm and your shoulder, ready to dispose of you at the slightest omen of their King’s will. Shoto only leaned back, watching as you lost your composure, as you panicked. He didn’t yell, nor did he lecture you further, but as always, his rage found a way to make itself known, if only in the grin that ghosted across his lips. Satisfied and decided. The smile of a man pushed to the edge and far too prepared to push back.

The smile a monster, finally ready to devour its prey.

“This might be a change for the better.” His tone was one of sterile contentment, a serenity that ran deeper than his voice could ever portray. You had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to shake him, again, not so easily. 

You had a feeling he wouldn’t give you the chance to, again.

“You might finally come to see how loving I’ve been, when you’re stripped of my favor.”  

[soulshards]

PARRY : What line will your character refuse to cross? Especially interested in this one.

"What lines would you cross, my dear? Would you kill an innocent man, because the life of your lover depends on it? Does love overcome all morals, does it make us blind? Or - perhaps, are you asking if I would pay to own another, or -" a pause, as her head lulled back in a bright, cheerful laughter that offset her words entirely. "Would I kill a king, just because I felt like it, bringing a city state to ruin? Maybe. That would all depend on how I felt that day."

This is a hard question because like, damn, there are so many lines. Betray someone else? Absolutely. Let a city fall to ruin just because she had something against the leader? You bet! She's petty, vindictive. She cares little about what is bad or what is good, she does what she needs to do.

The only thing she absolutely wouldn't do is hurt a child personally; off the table. Children are innocent, young minds to be moulded into beautiful and different creatures and she'd never lay a hand on them. However, if her actions caused someone young to get hurt indirectly, while she might be remorseful, it wouldn't concern her for very long. (Like it's sad but she's reason it as fate and you can't argue with that okay?)

Owning other people is.. eh, fifty fifty. She's a noblewoman, she has handmaidens and servants in her husbands manor. They're all paid fairly reasonably, for a "modern" nobleman, anyways. But she doesn't think she owns them, and she doesn't look down on them, either. They are, however, there to serve a purpose and she will use them as such. She doesn't like people looking down on her for being lesser, and that does extend out to others in a sense. She's not that much of a hypocrite.

Otherwise, yeah. She is not beyond killing innocents, guards or Knights that are otherwise seen as good people. If they get in her way, they are against her, and that's all that matters.

Stealing, breaking, entering, morally bad things in terms of the "law" make her laugh. It's only bad if you get caught.

When it comes to aspects of magic - she cares not for the rules of the realm. Black magic and white magic are means to an end; no force will stop her from dabbling in these fields at her own luxury. Necromancy is something she doesn't often play with, but again, the lines between life and death are so blurred with how aether works in this world that she had no problem with practicing the taboo magics, and has done in the past. Voidial magic and summoning again, often seen in a negative, she just see's as a tool. That's all it is, a tool to utilise. And someone telling her it's bad won't stop her.

You fuck (said with love) thank you @kiaranwrath <3 I hope this suffices as an answer because there are so many moral lines and I could probably keep going on and on. Nothing is truly off the table for her, it seems.

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 17

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A FEW MINUTES LATER

BJORNHEIMR

Sigurd dragged his feet across the uneven terrain, slogging through the dead woods that now served as Dag’s tomb. His hand shone vividly with a bright layer of red due to the blood that clung onto his skin, and his ears still buzzed with the echoes of his friend’s final cries.

As for Eivor, the jarl’s son appeared to be equally as harrowed as his companion. His eyes mirrored the frozen desolation of the bleak landscape sitting before him, and his face remained expressionless much like the corpses that now rested at Bjornheimr’s temple.

Both of them traversed the world like a pair of hollow shells, wandering through the dark in search of any light to hold onto. A black haze had blotted out the beam that once twinkled in their eyes, and it seemed as if the fire that once burned in them had been completely snuffed out.

Eivor just prayed this would be the end of their grief. It wouldn’t be long before they got the information they needed from Gorm, and the young man imagined they would soon be braving the seas again in search of the wretch’s father.

It was an endeavor that would only lead to more war, no doubt. There was a high chance that more people would die during their pursuit, and Eivor could no longer guarantee that even he would survive a second battle against Kjotve.

But after everything that had happened, he refused to shy away from this fight. Kjotve’s death wouldn’t bring Ulfar or Thora back from the dead, that much was true. But even then, Eivor hoped that -- at least -- it would serve as a balm to ease the pain now wracking his heart. 

He didn’t even care about reclaiming his honor anymore. All he wanted was to bring this horrid war to an end. Far too many people had been lost to Kjotve’s barbarity, and Eivor’s only desire now was to deliver peace unto those who had suffered for so long.

It was something he was willing to die for at this point, and a part of him suspected that he would.

“Wait,” Sigurd said as they entered the village. He stopped in his tracks and gazed in the distance, looking towards the docks. “Is that Randvi’s ship?”

Eivor followed his line of sight, nodding in response. “Yes. Randvi and her men returned not too long ago. They arrived whilst you were dealing with Dag.” He paused briefly, giving the prince a grim face. “...I’ve already told her about Thora and Ulfar. She’s at the temple now with my father and Ingrida. They’re preparing for tomorrow’s funeral.”

“...How is she?”

“How do you think? She knew Thora and Ulfar even longer than I did. She... she’s beyond devastated.”

Sigurd sighed deeply, hanging his head low in regret. “...Damn it. I should’ve killed Dag weeks ago. I should’ve confronted him from the start. He had been acting so strange ever since we came to Bjornheimr. I shouldn’t have waited this long to do something about it. Perhaps none of this would’ve happened then.”

Eivor took a few steps closer to him, speaking softly. “You are not to blame, Sigurd. You had no way of knowing Dag was the traitor.”

The prince wasn’t swayed. “On the contrary, I was the only one who could’ve known. I was the closest one with Dag out of anybody in our clan. I should’ve been paying more attention. I shouldn’t have let my love for him blind my judgement.”

Sigurd shut his eyes for a moment and let out a breath, clearly exhausted from the day’s events. “...I’m sorry, Eivor. I know you don’t fault me for what’s happened, but even then, I still carry some of the blame on my shoulders. I must be more vigilant from now on. I can’t allow anything like this to occur again, and I won’t. You have my word.”

Walking away before the other man could respond, Sigurd left Eivor behind and simply pushed forward into the village, emerging from the forest like a shadow slipping out of the night. The despair that once dimmed his expression had been replaced with the flickering embers of a growing rage, and the Wolf-Kissed could almost see sparks igniting in his eyes.

As for the young man himself, he simply followed the prince from a distance and trailed along quietly, unsure of what else he could do to comfort his lover. A few of the villagers -- including Styrbjorn -- had turned their heads upon Sigurd’s anticipated return, and immediately brought their attention to the blood now staining his hand.

The color faded from the king’s flesh as soon as he noticed the striking pigment. He didn’t seem to understand what had transpired just yet, but the dreary cloud hanging over his son was enough to imply that something terrible had unraveled.

Styrbjorn approached the two of them, carrying a look of concern.

“My son...!” He called out, keeping his tone hushed. “Where have you been? What’s happened to you? Whose... whose blood is that?”

Sigurd exchanged glances with his companion, hesitant to answer. He didn’t appear to be any calmer than when Eivor first found him in the woods, and the younger man feared that it wouldn’t take much more to send him into a storm. 

“It’s... Dag’s.” The prince admitted. “...I killed him.”

The older man fell into silence, taken aback by his son’s actions.

“You did what?”

“I had to,” Sigurd justified, steeling his voice. “Dag was the traitor. I had to get rid of him before he did anything else. I couldn’t allow him to harm more people.”

“A traitor?” Styrbjorn repeated in disbelief. “Are you positive? What makes you so certain he betrayed us? Did you find any evidence?”

“He confessed his crimes, father. He told me everything. Dag was the one assisting Kjotve. He was the one who informed him of our alliance. Ulfar was right.”

The king didn’t seem convinced. “I see. And was there anyone else around to hear Dag’s confession?”

“...No. It was just me and him.”

Styrbjorn shook his head in disapproval. “Then how can we be so sure that you killed the right man?”

Sigurd stared at his father in bewilderment, finally catching on to the man’s concerns. “...You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, son. But other people may not -- and for good reason, I might add. You just killed one of our own clan members because of a confession that nobody was around to hear. Nobody except for you. How can I accept that as evidence? How am I going to explain Dag’s death to our people? How can I convince them that what you did was not, in fact, murder?”

Sadly, Sigurd was in no state to process things rationally. The king’s doubt only added more fuel to the anguish that was already festering inside him, and his temper quickly took over like a hurricane commanding the seas.

“You can explain to them that I just killed the man responsible for Thora’s death! I killed the man who would’ve thrown the rest of us to the wolves. Had it not been for that rat, this village would still be in one piece. Thora would still be alive. I killed him because it was necessary.”

Styrbjorn was quiet in response, urging Sigurd to fill the silence.

“You think I murdered him out of indulgence? You know how much I loved him, father. He was my brother! I didn’t want to see him dead. But I did what was required to keep our clan safe. I finished what Ulfar started.”

But the king had nothing else to offer other than criticism. “You acted carelessly, Sigurd. There is no honor in slaying a man who cannot defend himself. You know this. If you truly believed Dag was the traitor, you should’ve brought him to me -- not slaughtered him in the woods. I could’ve held a trial to determine his judgement. His crimes would’ve been brought to light.”

“You think we have the time for something like that? Dag may have been reckless, but he wasn’t a fool. If there really was any evidence to find of his collusion with Kjotve, he would’ve destroyed it. We’d be investigating for weeks, if not months!”

“And what if there is evidence? What if we discover that Dag was not the only traitor in our midst? What will we do then, hm?”

Sigurd grew irritated. “We’ll deal with it. Just like I dealt with Dag.”

Styrbjorn sighed in defeat. “You rely too much on impulse, my son. You cannot take matters into your own hands like this. If you are to wear the crown someday, you must learn to respect the ways of our kingdom. A good leader enforces the law with a firm hand, but is never above it.”

The prince didn’t take kindly to that. “You are the last person to dictate what makes a good leader. While I’ve been fighting alongside our warriors on the battlefield, risking my life, you’ve been idling with a bottle in your hand, watching everything unfold! You say I’m reckless, but who else is going to defend your kingdom if not you?”

The older man turned away in shame, causing his son to descend even further into his tirade.

“Killing Dag was the only way to proceed, father. I wouldn’t have done it if I had any other options, but we are at a dead-end here. You don’t want me to act like this? Then you can swing the axe yourself next time!”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Sigurd cut himself off and took a moment to glance at his surroundings, suddenly realizing just how much attention he had drawn to their argument. Everywhere around him, men and women alike gawked at their altercation with a blatant sense of fear in their eyes, alarmed by everything they just heard. Not a single word was uttered amongst the small crowd that had gathered around them, and yet, it felt as if their very thoughts lingered in the air.

Looking at his father, Sigurd stepped away from the other man and slunk to Eivor’s side, backing down as if he were shocked by his own behavior. He appeared to be even more devoid of life now that he had argued with Styrbjorn, and within moments, he was desperately searching for a way out.

“I... I need to be alone.”

In the blink of an eye, Sigurd removed himself from the vicinity and retreated to the longhouse, aching for the solitude of his chambers. He left Styrbjorn and Eivor with nothing more than the company of their own thoughts, and disappeared as if he were smoke being whisked away by the wind.

In the meantime, the two men simply watched the prince vanish in the distance as the crowd began to disperse, granting them the luxury of privacy they so fervently desired. A portion of them already felt somewhat sheepish due to announcing their troubles to the public, and frankly, the only thing Eivor wanted was to lock himself in his room.

Unfortunately for the young man though, Styrbjorn didn’t seem ready to let him go just yet.

“Oh, Sigurd...” the king muttered to himself. “When will that boy learn...?”

Eivor approached the conflicted man, attempting to calm his nerves.

“Forgive him, my lord.” He pleaded. “Grief has befallen Sigurd. He made a great sacrifice for us today, cutting down his own friend like that. It will take him a long time to recover from this.”

Styrbjorn pinched the bridge of his nose out of stress, pacing back and forth in the snow.

“I understand that my son was only trying to protect our clan, but I must ensure he’s prepared to inherit the throne. We are at war, Eivor. There’s no guarantee I’ll be around by the time Kjotve is vanquished. The dawn of Sigurd’s reign could arrive sooner than he expects. He must be ready.”

“He is ready,” The Wolf-Kissed reassured. “He just needs time to heal.”

The king halted in his tracks and glanced at the younger man, inquiring about one other matter.

“Listen, Eivor. I hate to ask you of this considering everything that’s going on, but could you speak to Sigurd for me? I’d feel better knowing he wasn’t dealing with this alone.”

Eivor raised a brow. “Me? Why not you?”

“You’ve witnessed firsthand the animosity that stands between me and my son. Very rarely does Sigurd ever greet me with a smile. Whenever we’re together, it always feels like he’s angry at me, or frustrated. And the worst part is... I can’t even say he’s completely unjustified.”

“What do you mean?”

Styrbjorn sighed regretfully, dropping his gaze to the ground. There was a clear rein of hesitancy holding him back, but he knew that in order to help his son the best, he’d need to offer his full candor. 

“Perhaps he’s already told you this, but... ever since Sigurd’s mother passed away, I’ve found myself continuously drawn to the allure of drink. It’s something that’s haunted me for years now. I’ve tried many times to put down the bottle, but in the end, it always ends up trapping me in its clutches. I’m not proud to admit it, but it’s the truth.”

Eivor nodded in remembrance. “Sigurd has told me about this, yes.”

“I’m not surprised. He often speaks fondly of you. It’s clear you’ve gained my son’s unwavering trust. Unfortunately however, I cannot say the same for myself. My relationship with Sigurd has suffered due to my addiction. I have not always been the father he deserves, nor given him the guidance that he needed.”

The king’s stone facade faltered briefly. “It breaks my heart to consider it, but I fear that my own son views me as a nuisance more than anything. A lingering shackle that keeps holding him back. Sometimes I even wonder if the boy hates me.”

The young man’s expression softened with sympathy. “...No, Styrbjorn. No. He  doesn’t hate you. Even Sigurd himself has told me that he loves you. He just feels ignored.”

That caught Styrbjorn’s attention. “Ignored?”

“Yes. The last time he and I spoke about this issue, he expressed that he often feels like you don’t heed his advice; that his words tend to fall on deaf ears. Sigurd wants to help you overcome this, but he says you won’t let him.”

“It’s... true that I haven’t always kept my promises. I cannot deny that. But this battle is not so easily won.”

Eivor gave him an understanding look. “And Sigurd is aware of that. He knows you won’t be able to discard this overnight. But he just needs to see that you’re making some kind of effort. That will be more than enough for him. Trust me.”

Styrbjorn took the man’s advice to heart and quietly thought to himself for a moment, evidently shaken by this revelation. It was clear that a part of him drowned in guilt due to the discovery of Sigurd’s frustrations, but a hint of relief also twinkled in his eye now that he knew the boy still loved him.

“...I see.” The king said sincerely, gazing at the young man with an immense amount of gratitude. “Thank you for telling me this, Eivor. The path to reconciliation will be one laden with difficulties, but at least I can see where I must go. I will think on what you’ve said, and I’ll speak to Sigurd when the moment is right. In the meantime, could you talk to him for now? I fear that my presence would only amplify his anger.”

“Of course,” Eivor said with a firm nod. “I’ll check on him for you.”

“I appreciate it. Stay safe, my boy. Our struggles are far from over. I pray that the gods will extend their mercy to you from now on, and that you recover quickly from today’s tragedies. Peace is a distant reality for us at the moment, but not unreachable.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE LONGHOUSE

SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Wandering through the longhouse’s dimly lit halls, Eivor followed the trail of torches as he made his way to Sigurd’s chambers, overwhelmed by the looming silence that was broken only by his footsteps.

The adamant walls of the building had blocked out any intrusive sounds --  including that of the howling wind -- and as a result, nothing but the low crackling of fire was present to accompany the thoughts screaming in Eivor’s head.

He just didn’t know how to feel anymore. When he first discovered Thora’s body, the agony that overcame him was so fierce it almost crippled him entirely. He felt like the gods had ripped a hole in the very fabric of the world, and the impact of Ulfar’s death only pressed harder on the weight that was already resting on his shoulders.

Still, he couldn’t imagine what Sigurd was experiencing. Even though Eivor was no stranger to the atrocities of war, he had never been cursed with the responsibility of striking down his own brother. The mere idea of putting himself in the same position with Randvi was enough to crush him, and he worried that the guilt would twist the prince’s spirit into something much darker. He just hoped he could help the man before it was too late.

“...Sigurd?” The Wolf-Kissed said gently, knocking on the surface of his door. “It’s me, Eivor. Can I come in?”

A soft rustle emitted from the inside, followed up by the muffled thuds of Sigurd’s boots. The door swung open after a few moments, and standing in front of him, Eivor saw the prince, looking somber as ever.

“Eivor...?” He whispered, still afflicted by the ordeal with Dag. “You’re here?”

“Yes. I know you said you wished to be alone, but... I was worried. You disappeared from our sight before we could even get a word in. I wanted to check on you. I hope I’m not intruding.” The younger man paused for a second. “...How are you feeling now?”

Sigurd’s gaze fell to the floor. “I... I don’t know, Eivor.” His posture slouched in remorse. “...I’m not doing well.”

“Of course not,” Eivor said in understanding. “Dag was like a brother to you. No one could do what you did and come out unscathed.”

The prince scoffed. “No one except for my father, apparently.” He turned away from the door and stepped aside, allowing Eivor to come in as he spoke. “Can you believe that man? We are this close to winning the war against Kjotve, and he’s more concerned about due process.”

Eivor followed Sigurd into his chambers, closing the door behind them.

“Your father just wants to make sure you’re ready to rule the kingdom.”

“Well, there won’t be a kingdom to rule if we don’t catch Kjotve soon enough. My father says I’m careless in my behavior, but I don’t recall the last time I saw him lifting a sword. What else does he expect me to do?” 

Sigurd took a seat on the edge of his bed and sighed, completely drained of all vigor. “...I know I’m not perfect, Eivor. I know I still have much to learn. But everything I do is for the betterment of this clan. Why can’t my father see that?”

Eivor sat beside his lover, placing a comforting hand on his back. “He does see it. He may not be the best at getting his message across, but trust me when I say your father knows you have good intentions. He just worries that you’ll act with too much haste.”

The prince’s brow furrowed in curiosity. “Is that so? And what makes you so certain of that?”

“He and I talked after you left,” the younger man admitted. “He wanted to speak with you personally, but he thought that his company would only aggravate you more.” Eivor frowned in empathy. “...Your father thinks you hate him, Sigurd.”

Sigurd’s entire mood seemed to shift at the response, and for a split-second, it almost looked like he had completely forgotten about the rage he harbored. 

“He does...?”

“Well, he suspects it,” Eivor clarified, “but he said that things are always tense between you two. There never seems to be a moment of peace whenever you’re together.”

The prince shook his head, eager to dispel his beliefs.

“...No,” he said softly. “No. I don’t hate him. I love my father, in fact. I just hate the things he does sometimes.” Sigurd leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I want to keep him safe like I promised my mother I would. It brings me no joy to see him endure any pain or hardship, but...” he let out a breath of frustration, “...he never listens to me! Whenever I try to help him, he only pushes me away. Once, I even dumped all our ale into the river to stop him from drinking, and he broke into a fury unlike anything I’d ever seen.”

A grip of fear took hold of Sigurd’s voice. “...That stuff is poison, Eivor. It’s going to kill him someday. The last thing I want is to see my father step into an early grave, but how am I supposed to help him when he won’t even help himself?”

Eivor brought his partner into a hug, allowing his chin to sit on the man’s shoulder.

“You need to be more patient, Sigurd,” he advised. “Ultimately, your father’s recovery is his own responsibility, but a hostile relationship won’t do anything for either of you. He’s still trying to move on from your mother’s death. Just like you’re trying to move on from Dag’s. Give him time.”

The prince let out a sigh and warmed up to Eivor’s embrace, finally cooling off from the heat of his argument with Styrbjorn.

“I... I suppose you’re right.” He conceded, turning to face the younger man. “...Okay, Eivor. I’ll try to make things right. Not just for my father, but also for you. I promise.”

Eivor smiled at that. “Good. It won’t be easy, I know. But it’ll be worth it.”

Sigurd sat up from his position and laid a hand on the Wolf-Kissed’s lap, diverting the focus of their conversation elsewhere.

“Anyway, enough about me. How are you doing, my love? I’m... so sorry about Thora and Ulfar.”

Eivor separated their hug and stared bleakly at the floor, trying to keep himself together.

“...I still can’t believe they’re gone,” he said. “I thought I’d be used to losing people like this after what happened to my parents, but it hurts just as much as it did all those years ago. Only this time, I feel like I could’ve done something. I wish I did.”

A tinge of regret blanketed Sigurd’s face. “Are you angry that I held you back during the holmgang?”

“No,” Eivor answered truthfully. “I know you didn’t mean any harm. You were only trying to preserve Ulfar’s honor, and to be honest, I’m grateful that you did. As much as I wish I could’ve saved that man, I’d feel even worse if he never reached Valhalla. I’m going to miss him more than words can describe, but at least I know he’s at peace now. At least I know he’s reunited with his wife.” A cloud of sorrow fogged the young man’s eyes. “...I just wish I could say the same for Thora.”

Sigurd’s nose crinkled at the memory of discovering Thora’s body. “Gorm is even more of a coward than his father. It’s a shame what he did to her. He will get the punishment he deserves, Eivor. I won’t let him get away with it.”

The Wolf-Kissed found some solace in the prince’s reassurance. “Thank you. I know there’s nothing I can do to bring Thora back, but it seems only fitting that the man who murdered her joins her side in Helheim.”

“And he will. One way or another.”

Standing up from the bed, Eivor straightened his tunic and inched towards the door, preparing to take his leave. He didn’t want to abandon Sigurd’s side just yet, but he also wanted to see how his family was coping before the day came to an end.

“Anyway, I’ll give you some space, Sigurd.” He said, pressing a hand against the door’s surface. “I imagine you probably want to be alone right now, and there are some things I need to take care of before the funeral starts.”

Contrary to his belief however, the prince didn’t seem to share his sentiments. “Actually, I’d like you to stick around a little longer. If you’re willing to stay, that is.”

Eivor halted mid-action, unable to hide his interest. “You would?”

“Your company is one of the few things that offers me peace nowadays, Eivor. If you want to take this conversation further, you’re more than welcome here.”

The blonde viking took a hesitant glance outside the door, still carrying the same concerns he had lugged around for the past two weeks.

“But what if someone finds us? Don’t you think it’ll strike them as odd that I’ve been with you for so long?”

Sigurd let out a fatigued breath, slowly rising from his bed. “...I don’t care anymore. All this death sitting on our doorstep has shown me just how precious life truly is. I have no idea if I’ll even survive this war, Eivor. I’m not going to spend what could possibly be my final days pretending that I don’t feel anything for you.”

He walked up to his companion, leaving no more than a few inches between them. “I love you, Eivor. And I’m not ashamed to say it.”

Eivor froze at the confession and simply stared at Sigurd in silence, entirely at a loss for words. It wasn’t too long ago that the prince nearly tore himself apart trying to keep their affair a secret, and yet, he was practically declaring his love from the top of the world now. He no longer cared about the rumors that would spread, or the judgmental glances he’d receive. He was finally done hiding, and Eivor wondered if it was time he felt the same.

“Forgive me,” the younger man replied, “I... I don’t know what to say. I just never expected to hear you say those words.”

Sigurd chuckled. “Neither did I. I used to berate myself without pause when I first realized I was growing attached to you. I tried so desperately to shift my attention to Randvi for the sake of this alliance, but... it never worked. Things only deteriorated for me, and as a result, my life turned into a never-ending battle. I was miserable.”

Eivor smirked affectionately. “And now?”

Sigurd returned the grin. “Now, I know what I want at last. I can finally see why the gods led me here, and I’m done pushing against this fate that the Nornir have woven for me. I’m done with living a lie. My only question is... do you feel the same?”

The Wolf-Kissed let his hand drop from the door and focused completely on the man in front of him, peering fondly into his eyes.

“Of course I do. You’ve always been there for me ever since you first arrived at Bjornheimr. The circumstances under which we had to meet will forever leave a scar on this clan, but I can say for certain that our encounter was a blessing.” Eivor beamed brightly at the prince, holding his cheek in his palm. “I love you too, Sigurd. And nothing will ever change that.”

Sigurd’s expression radiated with a vibrant joy upon hearing that, and he pulled Eivor even closer to him, gently pushing him against the wall. He pecked a small kiss on the younger man’s neck and held him securely by the waist, allowing himself to forget about his troubles for just a brief moment.

“Then let us cast away the burdens of our struggles for tonight, and cherish our final hours of peace together. The stability of this war is precarious enough as it is. If anything happens to us, I don’t want to leave this world with regrets. Freya gave you to me as a gift the day we met, and I don’t intend to waste it.”

Eivor closed his eyes in bliss and linked his arms around Sigurd, caressing him in his embrace. The prince’s touch soothed his skin like ice on a fresh burn, and for the first time in a while, he was able to let his mind roam free from its continuous torment. The bond they shared was something that provided Eivor with a tranquility unlike anything else, and he silently begged the gods to keep his lover safe.

“From here to Valhalla,” Eivor whispered warmly, “I’ll always be at your side, Sigurd.”

[contrieves-moving]

i am thinking brainstorming if you will

[otomes-world]

On the edge of knife

@tellmesomegoodstory​​ said:  Can I request a scenario from Yandere Rook who falls in love with a kitsune woman, who really hates men, especially human men, the reason is that she was betrayed and almost killed by her human lover who turned out to be a yokai hunter. Pretty please🥺🥺

Thank you for giving me another chance to write about Rook~ He and Vil are main rivals for Malleus oneshots in this blog, after all (although Draconia is still wining…) (*￣▽￣)b

People. To be more precise, human men are who you hated more than anything else. Arrogant, self-confident, greedy and selfish creatures that you despised with all your being. You remembered how the older kitsune warned you, how they tried to ward off the further pain of betrayal, but then you were too blinded by fleeting feelings to heed the voice of reason.

Fate is truly cruel, because of all the possible places where you could have been thrown, it turned out to be a college overrun with men. You remembered the admission ceremony as if it happened yesterday. The gazes of all those present were riveted on you, gazes that you strongly disliked. “They” looked with surprise, probing, as at a future victim.

Well, if they want a war, you were always ready to start it. However, after some time, such idiots became several times less. Except for one stubborn human hunter.

The mysterious stranger immediately caught Hunt’s attention: a fragile figure in a robe, who looked at everyone with undisguised hostility. Blood surged with renewed vigor as a shadow tossed the hood to reveal a graceful lady with fox ears. Rook was ready to give up his hand for cutting off, that a tail flashed under the hem of the robe and obviously not one.

Long hair like moonlight; sharp nails that were ready to break anyone who dares to violate personal space. Vice leader Pomefiore had never seen a creature like her, so the interest in the mysterious fox in his eyes overshadowed Kingscholar’s royalty and Vil’s elegance.

One day, hiding in the shade of trees among the branches, the blond was watching his new idol. Everything about her was beautiful: the majestic gait, the fluttering nine tails that followed her in a light train, were more charming than any kings dresses.

A sharp gaze instantly riveted him to his place, the stranger was clearly looking at man. A swift thrust, a thin, but no less deadly, long needle pierced a millimeter from Hunt’s face. A silent warning that only heightened Rook’s interest.

A charming creature could easily challenge Roi de Leon, Leona, or Roi de Dragon, Malleus. Her instincts were on a completely different level than those of ordinary animals. The sensitive ear, which always caught every word of the lady, who didn`t so often reward those around her with the tone of her voice, caught on the unfamiliar word `kitsune`. What it was, Hunt had no idea, but he could swear that he would find out the meaning.

Dislike, turning into open hatred of his species - this was immediately noticed by Rook. The fox more or less opened up with Savanaclaw’s students, but kept aloof with the others. Whether it was upbringing or an unpleasant experience in the past, the blond was determined to find out at any cost.

After all, there should be no secrets between lovers, right?

A duel where opponents maneuver on thin ice, which can be destroyed by one careless movement. They set up for each other traps and carefully covers the stones with grass, hoping to catch the opponent by surprise.

The vice-head of Pomefiore spent every second of his free time on a twisted game, which the young man himself started. Teachers and Schoenheit more and more often caught the blond, dreamily looking out the window, trying to spy out something or someone. The more difficult trials fate puts before you, the more desirable and valuable the promised prize.

“Mon Amour, where are you going?”

You poke annoyedly, noticeably accelerating. You were terribly annoyed by a self-proclaimed hunter who, for reasons known to him alone, “chose” you as his future life companion. You turned a blind eye to his useless attempts at flirting exactly until the blond went from words to actions.

Maybe Hunt knew the forest like the back of his hand, but you too felt there as good as a fish in the water. Truly, you need to give the blonde his due, judging by the way he chased you, just as deftly moving among the branches and roots. You deliberately chose the most difficult path, one wrong step, and you are trapped. It is dangerous, however, in the current situation, if you aren’t going to risk everything, you should abandon hope of victory.

Rook has to win just once, but you had to win every time. This was his indisputable and main advantage. Most intimidation, you both know about it.

That’s right, this isn`t your first run across the forest. You have lost count, how many times Hunt appeared like the devil out of a snuffbox, and your game of “cat and mouse” smoothly moved from the college premises into the perennial thickets.

You couldn’t afford to lose, not this time. Let people call you a monster all your life, freak or predator. Now you strongly doubted which of the two of you was the true beast.

“Non, non! All attention on me”

Somewhere behind, the clear voice of a hunter was heard, noticing a slight detachment on your face. An arrow whizzed by, close but not enough to hit. Mentally, you cursed, the blond is clearly enjoying what is happening. How he noticed from the back that you were thinking remained a mystery, the answer to which you didn`t want to know.

Another arrow flew past, from which you successfully escaped to the side. It seems that the main villain is finally tired of the endless pursuit.

One more time. There is no more doubt, Hunt, just like you, decided go all-in. The vice-leader of Pomefiore fired arrows on the run, trying to slow you down and maybe immobilize you.

Dodging those constantly flying in your direction, you stumbled over the root of a tree. It cost you an arrow in your forearm.

It hurts, but adrenaline drove forward, because the fear of what threatened to defeat, truly chilled the blood in your veins. Gritting your teeth, you took a chance and, making a dash, ran into an unfamiliar part of the forest, not noticing how a satisfied smile blossomed on Rook’s lips.

Well, when you heard a sincere laugh behind you, you realized that you fell into his trap, because after a few meters you saw the ground breaking off. Still holding the injured hand you carefully looked down. How many meters are there… a thousand?

“Le jeu est terminé (Game is over), Mon Amour”

You turned sharply when you heard the familiar voice of Hunt approaching you slowly, with a contented expression on his face that you always hated.

For each step of the man, you did one back, not taking your eyes off the hunter. Probably, all thoughts on this matter were reflected on your face, because a predatory light flashed in the eyes of the blond.

The proximity of the long-awaited victory was intoxicating, so much so that Rook allowed himself to stop a few steps in front of you. Open space and a cliff behind - you сannot escape anymore. Although the vice-head of Pomefiore lied if he said that he didn`t like your stubborn disposition, the way you looked at him with a strong desire to kill.

“Mon Amour, don’t be silly.” Noticing that you took another step back, Hunt immediately frowned. “It’s not worth it”

“Not at all” You allowed yourself to smile for the first time ever. The blond wanted to see your genuinely  smile, but not in the current situation, and you knew about it. Well, he was a good opponent, so you decided to ‘reward’ him at last. “The future with you is not worth it”

With these you, ignoring the hunter’s scream, turned sharply, made the final step and mocked him last time, “Good bye, Mon Amour”

Rook was a good opponent but losing definitely wasn’t in your style.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

tapestry 👑 XVII

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The trial continues.

Note: What’s up all my thot-lovers and barnacles bitches. 💋 😉 We’re still watching some shit unfold here and this trial is gonna get unreallll. But I’m excited to keep going and to have something to feed you thirsty thirsty ho. Just a little longer... erm, I don’t know exactly how long tho.

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

In the days following King T'Challa's testimony, several witnesses were placed on the stand. Though their authenticity was questionable, they were heard with the same silent awe as the first to speak.

Prince Loki had brought a physician from Asgard who had served the royal family since his father, Odin's, reign. He swore to have examined Eleanor before she was sent away to the marry Steven and had found her virtue broken, though the document presented did attribute this to unknown but surely innocent circumstances. What else could he have written when the king's signature would seal the declaration?

Next, a chamber maid who served Eleanor when she was a princess still. The woman had no papers or letters to present and if she did, she'd not have known their contents. 

She stated that Eleanor doted upon her betrothed and spoke of her future as queen with girlish cheer. That she did blush when the prince's name arose. That the princess did divulge that she had "surrendered her heart and body" to him and that she did speak of them as husband and wife already.

Ellis presented several more documents provided by Asgard and its royal prince. A copy of the original betrothal, several letters which upheld its validity over the years between Odin and T'Chaka. 

And the most damning, a letter in Eleanor's hand addressed to her mother written after her departure to marry Steven. In it, she spoke of her lingering feelings for the other prince and her hesitation to marry the second. Though she did not question the union outright, her youthful fears were presented as knowing deception.

You watched, barely able to conceal your despair. The pit deepened in your stomach as you watched the queen stand before her accusers and her judges, head held high despite all she faced. You knew you could never be her; you could never face anything so terrible as such and indomitable force. She hadn’t slipped since her first day on trial. Her shoulders remained still, her figure straight, head held high.

And when the issue of Eleanor’s marital fealty was thoroughly dissected, the court turned its attention to the accusations of treason. On the fifth day, Lord Ellis called forth Ladies Mabel and Diana. Mabel was first, her face drawn and sullen. She was led to the stand as Ellis asked her to tell the truth and nothing more. Marion bent her head as she began to pray quietly beside you.

“Lady Mabel,” Ellis began as he looked up from the podium. “How long did you serve Eleanor of Asgard?”

“Near five years now, my lord,” Mabel answered in a small voice. 

“Mmm,” He looked down and his eyes roved over his notes. “And it was her who did request that the king arrange your marriage to Lord Wilson?”

“It was.” She replied as she brought her hands together before her. “The queen always did see her ladies married well.”

“So you would say she was generous? She has sewn no ill-will between you?”

“I would say that,” Her voice quavered and she looked behind her to the audience. She stared at her husband as a hush took over the court. “She was ever kind to me and all the ladies.”

“All her ladies?” Ellis nodded and flicked the corner of a page with his thumb. “Every single one?”

“Well…” Mabel’s voice trailed off.

“To return to my previous point, as she was so courteous, you would have no reason to speak unkindly of her would you, to lie about her for any reason?”

“No, I w-would not,” She looked to the queen and gulped. Eleanor stared at the dimming window. “I wouldn’t lie, my lord.”

“And so when you say she was kind to all her ladies, would you include in that one Lady Y/N?” You fidgeted at the mention of your name. You hid your face as you listened.

“I only ever saw the queen treat her well.” Mabel said.

“Even as she did meddle with the lady’s saddle on a hunt this past autumn?” Ellis suggested.

Mabel was silent. She gripped the podium before her and hung her head. She did not respond.

“Lady Mabel?” Ellis urged and Mabel shook her head. “Were you aware that Eleanor of Asgard did arrange for this lady to have a wild horse and an altered saddle that day?”

Mabel sniffed and didn’t move. The court waited as her shoulders began to shake. She nodded at last. You could hear her weeping.

“Lady Mabel, you must answer aloud so that the clerk may record your response.” Ellis chided.

“Yes…” She spoke softly at first and lifted her head. She gulped harshly and cleared her throat as she wiped away her tears. “Yes, I did know.”

“And how was it that you knew of the queen’s ploy?”

“She told me of it.” Her voice threatened to crack as she wrung her hands.

“When did she tell you of it?”

“After...after the incident.”

“What incident?” 

“The one in which the lady was thrown from her horse,” The tears bubbled again and Mabel hiccuped. “She didn’t mean her any harm. She didn’t. She only meant to frighten her.”

“And did you ever know Eleanor of Asgard to have any ill intent for anyone else?” Ellis asked.

“I…” Mabel couldn’t answer as she sobbed.

“Did she ever wish harm upon her husband, perhaps?”

Another sob. “I… Only…”

“You may tell the court. You will not be punished for your honesty.” Ellis coaxed. “Did she ever devise any other schemes? Against her own husband?”

Mabel was quaking. She could barely form words as her body rattled. “She… she… she did… send… poison to the king….” She spoke so quietly and yet you heard her clearly, as did the entire audience. 

“And how do you know it was her?” Ellis led her as he leaned on his podium eagerly.

“She… told… me.” Mabel swayed as she clutched her hands together. The queen pushed her shoulders back.

“And why should she tell you that?” Ellis wondered.

“Because she told me everything. Because…” She gasped. “Because… she was…my friend.”

“And did she tell you of why it was she would do such a thing? Of why she would conspire to kill her own husband?”

“Sh-she hated him,” Mabel stuttered. “She said so very often and when he came to her as a husband did, she did deny him because… she could not stand to lay--to lay next to him.” Her voice squeaked and she shuddered as she covered her tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

She kept her face buried as she repeated the words over and over. She shook so much you were sure she would collapse. The court was deathly and still. Shadows fell over the figures at the centre of the scene as the sun began its descent.

“Please, take the lady away. She is much overwhelmed,” Ellis feigned concern as he touched his chest. “I think that is quite enough, Lady Mabel.”

You looked to the box where the king sat. Steven’s eyes were bright as he watched a guard escort Mabel from the stand. He leaned over to T’Challa who turned to whisper in his ear. Prince Loki did not betray his thoughts as he looked down his long nose. You were startled however to find that he looked upon you. His cheeks twitched as if he would smirk before he drew his attention away.

“If the cardinals and your highnesses should allow it, I should think a brief recess would be in order.” Ellis intoned. “And we shall have our final witness of the day thereafter.”

“I should think it a wise idea,” The cardinal who seemed the leader of the party agreed as he rubbed his large stomach. “A day such as this has been most taxing.”

The royals nodded in approval and Ellis announced the recess. No one moved until the queen was led from her podium and out the side door. You watched her go, her steps as long and certain as any day she had sat the throne. 

You looked away as the door closed behind her. King Steven was the first to rise and the entire chamber was upon their feet within second. He searched between the bodies until his gaze fell upon you and he gave a slight nod. You did not look away; could not for you feared what should happen if you were to offend him. If you were to fall from his favour.

Surely, if these were the consequences for a queen, you could not meet any better.

👑

You were due for another day on the bench. You were tired and did not relish any further testimony. You found it hard not to think of Mabel and her distraught confessions. And Diana who followed with a similar display. Both had implicated their queen and friend, though both those titles would seem to have been relinquished.

You walked with your father. He had come to you early that morning to deliver a letter from the king. You had been want to set it aside and continue to the court if only to have it done with. He did not allow your delay and reproached you until you opened it. He read it after you did and grinned at the king’s still infatuated words. You smiled if only to conceal your distress.

As you swept through the halls beside him, you were quiet. You let him rant until he was silent and clung to the lull of his words. You did not dare fuel his lectures of your future; more importantly, of his. There would be much talking that day, as there was every day.

You turned the corner and came upon another pair in the hall. You nearly faltered as you recognized the dark-haired prince of Asgard and his burly guard just behind him. He stood with his eyes upon a large hanging. As you came upon him, you curtsied and your father bowed. Prince Loki did not look away from the map painted on elk skin.

“Lord Willis,” He said without a glance. “My lady. I assume you are upon the same path as me.”

“We are, your grace,” Your father answered and you tried not to squirm at his weaselly tone. 

“Oh, but they do always find reason to delay, so why hurry?” He mused. “Do you see these mountains?” He pointed to the skin.

“I do, your grace,” Your father turned to look alongside the prince. You peeked over his shoulder but did not near the Asgardian.

“Do you know of their history?” He asked. “Of who does claim them?”

“Why, your grace, I do see that they bear the crest of King Steven and his ancestors on this map.” Your father answered diligently.

“Upon this map, yes,” The prince smirked and you squinted at the pointed range upon the skin. “But not every map.”

“Your grace, is that not The Beak?” You ventured. “The mountains that house your ancestral temples? Those carved by the unblessed?”

He slowly turned his head, at last looking away from the map. He grinned as he stepped back and approached you. “The lady is right. Well-educated, I assume. And do you know then the answer to my first question?”

“The mountains are claimed by many; our people, yours, and those of Wakanda.” You replied. “Though for how many times they have changed hands, it cannot be said to who they belong.”

He nodded and lifted a brow. “Clever lady, indeed. You do prove the rumours true. At least those ones.”

“Rumours?” You repeated.

“I do know of you, my lady,” He affirmed. “And your alleged part in my purpose here.”

“And you would believe the whispers of a court you are unfamiliar with?” You blinked and pressed your lips together before you righted yourself. “Your grace.”

“I do not, but I know there is truth beneath each lie, merely contorted and exaggerated for effect,” He swept a strand of his dark hair back. “And the same can be said of the truth. That it can be bent to fit our needs.”

“Perhaps,” You said evenly as your father returned to your side.

“The line between truth and falsity is thin and not so firm as we should like it,” Loki reflected. “As many lines which constrain us prove to be.” He lifted his chin and looked down at you. “Shall we walk together then? Since we do seek the same destination?”

“As you wish, your grace,” Your father answered keenly but the prince didn’t so much as look at him. You bowed your head in ascent and Loki turned to walk beside you.

“Your grace, are you enjoying your visit?” Your father cajoled.

“As much as I can, given its purpose,” The prince said dully. 

You walked silently between them as they continued their courtly dialogue. The forced amiability of politicians. You did not miss the prince’s green eyes as they peeked at you. You ignored him and carried on. He must have loathed you for your role in his sister’s current circumstance, though he seemed happy enough to sit and watch it unfold.

“Well, my lord, it seems I must be away,” The prince turned as you came upon the doors to the courtroom. “I have lingered far too long. My lady,” He smiled again as he looked to you. “It was… an intriguing meeting. As brief as it was.” He stood straight and resumed his usual cool stature, “Take care.”

You watched him go and took a deep breath as he disappeared through the door. Your father squinted at you as you crossed your arms. He kept away from the other lords and ladies who waited without.

“You do not like the prince?” He asked.

“I haven’t reason not to,” You said. “I find him… cordial enough.”

“But you do seem perturbed by him.” Your father insisted.

“I do find it hard not to wonder how he can be so jaunty as he watches his sister face such an unfortunate ordeal.” You countered. “How he can let his sister stay silent as she is faced with such accusations..”

“His sister did refuse his aid,” Your father lowered his voice and beckoned you away from the crowd. “The Prince and his kingly brother did come with an offer. If she would admit to her crimes, she would be met with exile. Upon their bearing and that of her name, she would walk away to isolation and a slight taint.”

You frowned and stared dumbly at your father.

“But she does insist upon her innocence and if she cannot prove it, then she will face whatever fate the See decides upon.” You father shrugged. “So is the lot of a woman who cannot mind her place.”

“Is it?” You growled.

“It is,” He smirked at you sourly. “On women who would try to outpace a king; who would toy with him and deny his will.” You bristled as he stepped closer. “Remember this, daughter. Remember that if you should fall, we will all fall with you.”

“But you could’ve never risen without me,” You rebutted.

“And we will not remain unless you appease him,” Your father hissed. “So keep him happy and we’ll all be content.” His nostrils flared as he scowled. “And we might just keep our heads long enough to revel in it.”

Your father drew away suddenly and looked over your head. He smiled and you turned to follow his gaze. Lord Ellis and several other council members approached. You stepped back as you were quickly forgotten.

“My lords,” Your father greeted. “I see you are well this day.”

You backed away and shook your head at your father’s act. He was truly repulsive. You joined the other ladies who waited along the wall and clasped your hands together. Even if he was entirely false, your father had played the game well. He knew the court and its deceits better than any. And he was right. 

The only way to save yourself was to keep King Steven happy.

[blacksunscorpio]

Scorp you're a genius! So relatable and I love how you don't judge others or anyone who comes to you for help. Keep it up! I just had to ask since I see that you make pop culture references to make analogies with astrology. You've mentioned GoT a few times and im a huge fan! Can you do a quick post on Game of Thrones characters and their potential zodiac signs? I'd love to hear your input! Thank you so much!!

Game of Thrones Characters & Their Zodiac Signs

Aries

Khal Drogo- Impulsive. Warlike. Bloodthirsty. Alpha. Conqueror. Hardcore athlete [did you see him on that horse?] Extremely sexual. Forceful. When he first meets Daenerys, he forces himself on her. Afterward, however, he is the first to go to war if he feels the people around him have been disrespected.

Aerys Targaryen- Impulsive, sadistic. Boastful. imperial. He would be the Emperor [reversed] in Tarot, lol. Not as good with being a tactician as he ought to have been. Cruel. Rage problems. The need to be the first and the best. Fire and blood, anyone?

Taurus

Maergery Tyrell - Classy, wealthy, sexy, laid-back, frank but with an air of elegance. Highgardeners have a love for the finer things in life. A love of fine wines and foods. Beautiful clothing and aesthetics. RICH RICH. Get on their bad side and they will take their time finding a way to subvert your authority.

Robert Baratheon- Love of luxury, bullheaded, strong, takes no shit. Fixed in his opinions of others, highkey jealous. In his youth, he enjoyed the gifts of Venus: Charm, wealth coming from the noble house of Baratheon, widely considered handsome by almost all in the 7 kingdoms. 

Gemini

Tyrion Lannister- Silver-tongued. HIGHKEY intelligent. Social. Charming. Great sense of humor. A freak [in the sheets]. Chatty. Always finds his way out of a sticky situation. Finds a way to use his intel to bolster diplomacy between his family and the families who hate them.

Little Finger- Cunning, quick-witted, works behind the scenes, manipulative, a  snake, jack of all trades. Top dog in the social circles of the 7 Kingdoms. There wasn’t a person who didn’t know of him and his... reputation. He singlehandedly, through his Machiavellian tactics, caused the events of Game of Thrones to unfold. 

Cancer  

Cersei Lannister- Protective, moody, caring [to her kids], motherly, cantankerous, jealous. A savage. People don’t give Cancer’s the credit they deserve in terms of what they’re capable of. Cersei is a prime example of the type of person who can show unrivaled levels of devotion to the one’s they love. “No one matters but us.” She can be cruel because she lets her emotions rule her actions. When her safety is threatened, she makes sure no one else feels safe either. She loves with a ferocity only rivaled by...

Catelyn Stark- Another mother who would die [quite literally] for her children. Fierce, Protective. Doting. JEALOUS. Let’s not forget how she treated Jon all because she believed Ned’s lie about him being a bastard. Followed her son into battle. Damn near lost her hands fighting off Bran’s would-be assassin. 

Leo

Jaime Lannister- Proud. Handsome. Princely. Funny. We seem him go from underdeveloped Leo [arrogant, selfish, bully, prideful, snob, loyal to no one but himself] to developed [Kind, helpful, warm, honest]. Fought bears for his friends. Skilled and proud fighter even without the use of both his hands. Unfortunately, his loyalty caused him to stay loyal to his twin towards the end, but such is the nature of a Leo. They’re hard-pressed to abandon those they truly care for.

Brienne of Tarth- LOYAL. Proud. Devoted. A bit of a flare for drama especially brandishing her sword. Brienne is the definition of Leonine traits. Hard to miss. Devoted to those who show her kindness, i.e Renly, Catelyn, Jaime, Sansa, etc. Always at the front lines in war screaming “STAND YOUR GROUND”. Unrivaled levels of bravery and courage. Not to be fucked with. A true Queen.

Virgo

Samwell Tarley- Intelligent. Scholarly. Methodical. Always with his nose in a book. Unproblematic king. Caught the things everyone else missed, especially when he was an apprentice in Old Towne. Figured out how to cure Jorah Mormont’s affliction on his OWN without any formal training. Genius.

Lord Varys- Remember, Virgo is also ruled by Mercury who is the most cunning of the planetary rulers. Varys always had a spy to collect intel on everyone. A tactician. Never lost his temper. Always had the scoop but didn’t partake in gossip for gossip's sake. Not afraid to be critical or tell those “in charge” his opinion. We can see this specifically when he critiques Aerys, Daenerys, and Robert. 

Libra

Davos Seaworth- a skilled diplomat. Davos is always seen seeking balance and fairness in the situations he finds himself in. The minute you see this man in a scene you know he’s going to give a moving speech and get someone out fo a sticky situation. He convinced the Iron Bank to support Stannis. Convinced Daenerys to entertain Jon Snow when they traveled to Dragonstone. Always breaking up a fight. He is in full support of law and order, especially when he called for Melisandre’s head after discovering her part in Shireen’s death [RIP.]

Rhaegar Targaryen- Had a love of music. Harmony. Balance. He brought two families together [Stark and Targaryen]. He was also blessed by Venus in my opinion because he was said to be extremely handsome. A fabulous singer. A fighter yes, but a lover first. Very good with diplomacy but not the best with defending himself against his cousin sign, Taurus [Robert Baratheon].

Scorpio

Daenerys Targaryen- Many see her as an Aries but I have to respectfully disagree. Daenerys is a Scorpio in my opinion. Remember, Scorpio is honorary fire. She was literally “reborn from the ashes”. A Phoenix, Scorpio’s final form. She went from a silent and meek girl to a skilled and commanding Empress. Unlike Arians, she did not jump headfirst into battle. It took many arrows in her dragons, many slights to her ego, copious council from her advisors, dozens of her loved ones lost for her to go nuclear. Like her father, she hungered for power, a very Scorpionic trait. However she, unlike her father, listened to reason [Jorah, Tyrion, and Barristan Selmy]. She had a long fuse until she didn’t, and then that’s when she rained fire and blood on everyone in King’s Landing. She was skilled at retribution and was unapologetic with it *cough* the Tarleys *cough*.. Unlike Arians who pop off at the drop of a hat, she gave her enemies fair warning if/when they crossed her.

Arya Stark- You already know what it is with this one. Arya is pretty much death [Pluto], personified. Stealthy. A tactician. VENGEFUL. I think we all fist-pumped when she served Filch Walder Frey his sons in that pie. Never forgets a slight. Keeps a list of people who’ve wronged her [All Scorpios can probably relate]. You never see her coming. She is “no-one”. She is the assassin that slips through the back. She may seem calm at first but trust that she has been planning your downfall for a while. LOYAL. The definition of a Scorpio.

Melisandre- Dark. Mysterious. Unafraid of the occult. So much of her life is unknown and I’m sure that’s how she preferred it. Even her Lord of light was mysterious. Strong supernatural abilities and highkey psychic. Knew immediately how many “eyes” Arya would “close.” Had ties to the underworld which is demonstrated with her ability to resurrect the dead. Came through at the clutch in the last battle wielding fire [Mars] with her witchcraft. It’s no secret that Scorpios are some of the most skilled in sorcery.

Sagittarius

Missandei- Exotic. From Naath which is an island just above the mysterious continent of Sothoryos. A world traveler. Lucky enough to escape slavery [until the end]. Jupiter's influence is here in my opinion because she is so kind and friendly. Also a polyglot and gifted with the ability to speak 19 languages. Her fire is seen at the end of the series when she tells her best friend “Dracarys”-- meaning “fire” in High Valyrian. She isn’t afraid to call wrath down on others.

Olenna Tyrell- Loud, unapologetically blunt, zero-filter, feisty. Olenna to me is the definition of Sagittarius. Always speaks her mind. Clap back queen. Will call you out. Was also quite promiscuous in her younger years. Very charismatic and extremely likable despite her penchant for saying whatever was on her mind.

Capricorn

Tywin Lannister- I can’t see the patriarch of the most notorious family in Westeros being anything other than a Capricorn. Methodical. Structured. Business-minded. Karmic [A "Lannister always repays his debts"] Cold. Cruel. Unfeeling. Like Saturn, he is the father figure. Basically ran the 7 Kingdoms for Aerys, [which was probably why the latter was so salty towards him.] Always has a plan. The man you want in charge if we’re strictly talking about law and order. Vindictive [had the mountain kill Elia because Rhaegar rejected Cersei.] He’s the ultimate son-of-a-bitch.

Jon Snow- Brooding hero that he is, Bae Jon Snow is without a doubt a Capricorn in my eyes. Duty-bound. Serious. A leader in his own right. Could also be cold and unfeeling in terms of distributing karmic justice. Lest we forget the “fetch-me-a-block” situation with Janos Slynt. In addition, the moment he was resurrected he took vengeance against the black brothers who betrayed him. Saturn, Like Pluto, is all about karmic justice. The beating he put on Ramsey after The Battle of the Bastards was one thousand percent a karmic beating. A proper lover as well, according to Ygritte, Jon also knew how to handle himself in the bedroom, a trait very akin to Capricorns.

Aquarius

Bran Stark- I thought about making Bran a Pisces, but then I changed my mind. Remember Uranus rules sudden insights and hardcore psychic receptivity. It also rules sudden and unexpected catastrophes or surprises/ sudden breaks. Bran suffered a literal “tower” moment at the beginning of the series which resulted in his psychic powers developing. Once he became the three-eyed raven, he became very detached from the world.

Grey Worm- Aquarius is also androgynous. Grey Worm is a eunuch. He is always down to fight for a cause though, specifically his queen’s. Cares about others, specifically Missandei, and was seen towards the latter season speaking up for the Unsullied against the slavers. Fierce combatant but also very detached. His job is his job.

Pisces

Jaqen H’ghar- Much like Neptune, Pisces’ ruler Jaqen has a mysterious and illusive personality. He wears “many faces”. Skilled at illusion and very very intuitive. Has a soft side though which is clearly seen with how he treats Arya. Hardly ever flies off the handle. Calm. Cool. Collected.

Hodor- Sweet and gentle giant, Hodor is a Pisces to me. Affected by psychic trauma, it’s revealed why “Hodor” is the only thing he can say. Calm. A bit of a baby. Caring. Easily adaptable [think of all the terrain he carried Bran through]

Eddard Stark- I don't care what anyone says, Ned stark to me represents the most developed form of a Pisces. Like the Hanged-Man in Tarot that represents sacrifice and which Neptune Rules, he willingly sacrificed his reputation as honorable for his sister, Lyanna. He later sacrifices himself for his children when he died at Joffrey’s [little bitch] command. He is wise. Though appears cold, he is actually a well of feeling and caring. Unfortunately, he also suffered from the naivety of Neptunian influence which is why he wasn’t very skilled at the Game of Thrones, which calls for more tactical ruthlessness. Pisceans however also have the rage of Poseidon flowing through their veins [which people like to forget]. This was displayed when he pinned Petyr Baelish to the Wall in King’s Landing for daring to dishonor Cat by inviting her into a Brothel. RIP, King Stark.

[yenslilac]

Daenerys Targaryen and Ophelia: An Essay

I wrote this a while back, just after Season 8 ended. After a few edits, I decided to share it with you! Disclaimer: I wrote this fueled with rage at 11 at night for two weeks straight. Don’t judge. 

Part 1: The Heroine Goes Absolutely Bats**t Crazy

Ophelia. Known throughout time as That Crazy Chick Who Drowned Herself. What a legacy. And Daenerys: She Who Toasted A City Like Marshmallows And Then Was Offed By Her Nephew/Lover. The sad thing is, these are my heroes. What a life. But the ‘Insane Heroine’ trope is prevalent in many forms of media – Dark Phoenix is another example. At first glance, Daenerys and Ophelia have very little in common; Daenerys is a powerful and assertive leader, and Ophelia is a background love interest. The one thing that unites them – they go crazy because of rejected love. While their descent into madness is slightly different; Ophelia is pitiful, Daenerys aggressive, both end up dying indirectly or directly as a result of their lover. Lovely. Let’s talk first about Ophelia – She is rebuffed Hamlet, the original pathetic sad boy, and at the death of her father, goes insane. After several performances of her insanity, she makes her way to a river where she falls (or throws?) herself into the water and drowns. This is witnessed by Gertrude, who then goes on to tell her brother Laertes of her death. It’s a pretty monologue, describing the flowers and plants growing along the riverbank, and how pretty and peaceful she looked as she sank under water and DIED. Remember this. Then my girl Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men etc. etc. Oh boy. Ohhhhhh boy. What can I say except **************** ***** ** **********. Thank you for your time. But she like Ophelia, was scorned by her Boyfriend Who Felt It Was Just A Little Weird That She Was His Aunt. But like, your paternal grandparents and the rest of your great-whatever grandparents were siblings, and your maternal grandparents were cousins so… But I digress. Wait no, this is what it’s all about. I’m back! I un-digress! So, she goes ‘insane’ cause she can’t get laid (don’t we all?) and roasts a whole lot of people and becomes… Hitler for some reason… So, Boyfriend Who Felt It Was Just A Little Weird That She Was His Aunt And Really Wishes He Can Just Catch A Break For Once Is It Really Too Much Too Ask is egged on by Murder Sister™ and Smarty Pants McGee to kill her. Just like my friends! He makes out with her and stabs her (best of both worlds!) and she dies. Very prettily. Remember this. You know. YOU KNOW I’m going to rant about this.

Part 2: Heroic Man Kills The Crazy Lady Like The Feral Dog She Is (But Feels Sad About It) 

Trope as old as time… why is this still fine… surely there’s a better plot deviiiiiice. “Duty is the death of love…” Shut up. Shut up. No, it isn’t. There is a thing called multitasking. You should try it. But let’s recap. Woman goes crazy because of lover/hero of the story rebuffing her because he’s got issues of his own that he doesn’t care to share with her, and close friend/family member is killed. This is when the paths of the Hero diverge. Hamlet does not actually kill Ophelia himself, but his careless actions towards her eventually drive her to suicide. Jon, on the other hand, does kill Daenerys, (no, I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed) by a knife to the heart while snogging her. (I’d like to take the opportunity to say that this was ridiculous and yes, I will die mad about it.) What else is similar? Hamlet holds Ophelia’s (or in some adaptations tries to) dead body in his arms as she is about to be buried and Jon holds Daenerys as she dies. They cry and wish it didn’t have to be this way, but really guys, this is Your Fault.

The problem with this trope in particular (and I’m talking about a lot of other examples here, like Dark Phoenix and Wolverine) is that it renders the killer sympathetic. They didn’t want to do this, but it was for the good of humanity, it was a mercy, blah blah blah. Really? Did someone make you kill her? No, a sense of moral justice does not count. Hamlet abuses and humiliates Ophelia then claims he loved her so much that ‘forty thousand brothers could not…” Creepy. I have to say, creepy. And Jon Snow. “Was it right? It doesn’t feel right…” I’m glad you came to that conclusion. I really am. But I knew this from the moment you stuffed that butter knife into her spleen, so honestly you don’t have any business feeling sorry for yourself. If there’s one lesson that Game of Thrones and Shakespeare has taught me, it is:

(not an artist, don’t judge)

Part 3: Someone Died And The Director Said, “Cool But Like… Make It Fashion.”

Do you remember what I told you to remember? Did you? Cause I’m about to RANT.

Throughout time (like 500 years) men have been painting Ophelia’s drowning – the probable suicide of a tormented young woman – and made sure she looked hot while doing it. True, the description of her death is pretty and all, but depictions of her floating just below the surface, a dramatic and lovely pose and flowers strewn around her glamorise her death – something many other people have taken note on – and give her death something of a peaceful, serene departing note, rather than the death of a woman so deranged she did not appear to understand the gravity of her situation as she sank under water. Daenerys suffers a similar case of SDPS (Sexy Dead Person Syndrome). Let’s go through it step by step, shall we? While in an embrace with someone she loves and trusts, she is stabbed in the heart area (I guess?), and she dies. The End. My respect for white men flew off with Drogon. But I haven’t complained properly yet! Compared to other characters, like Myrcella, Joffrey and Catelyn Stark to name a few, her death was very clean. In these other examples, blood runs down their faces or spurts out of their neck in suitably graphic fashion but Daenerys’ case, two thin lines of blood trickle from her nose and mouth. Pretty, pretty. We get a brief shot of a pool of blood on the snow as Drogon picks her up, but blink and you’ll miss it. She looks shocked and confused as she dies, yet the next shot of her face shows her eyes are closed and an almost peaceful expression on her face. Not only this but we don’t actually get any proper Last Words, when she knows she is about to die. She makes no sound at all. She dies prettily and quietly. We also don’t see the knife at all until she is dead, removing any very graphic nature from the scene. A lot of the camera shots are of Jon’s face. This scene is not about Daenerys Targaryen’s death; This is about Jon Snow’s inner turmoil as he selflessly sacrifices the woman he loves to save the rest of the world. Hold up one second I gotta……

I mean, come on. Daenerys is barely mentioned after her death. She, a woman who freed hundreds, no, thousands of slaves and worked hard to reach her goals (albeit a little dragonfire-y) yet she dies without a whisper and is forgotten almost immediately. She becomes less of a central character and more of a catalyst for other men’s rise to power (see Bran the Broken). Wait, what about Sansa, you cry? Well, at this point, she was so out of character I’m striking her from the narrative. Bye bitch 😊 The same goes for most of the other women in the last season. They become plot devices with a little agency and that’s about it. Missandei? Unnecessarily killed to create the “Mad Queen”. Cersei? A compelling villain reduced to a ‘crying girl who wants to be comforted’. Arya? Kills the Night King and then, I dunno. Sansa? Suspicious of Daenerys because of reasons, betrays her brother/cousin because she doesn’t want Daenerys on the throne, then just ‘forgets’ about this whole thing to become Queen in the North. Brienne? Honourable knight left sobbing after her one (k)night stand left her. Another thing that many of these women have in common (the ones who survived to the final episode anyway) is that none of them have romantic endgames despite this being set up. Arya and Gendry have been close friends in Season 2 and 3, then <3  and everyone (i.e. me) thought that you know, they get together and stuff, because that’s what the writers seemed to be setting up. But nope. Arya’s all like ‘I wanna kill the queen’ (which she never does) and throws all that out the window. (But Gendry was totally on that ship at the end). Brienne and Jaime seemed to finally stop eye fricking and then got straight to the actual fricking but nooooo. “I lOvE CeRseI! WE’re bOTh tERrIble PeOple!” And of course, the crowning glory:

And the woman who actually does come out on top is Sansa, a largely unemotional, suspicious woman whose brother is now the king and made her a queen because she’s his sister. Riiiight. That’s totally not nepotism or anything. 

The End: But Boy, Am I Just Beginning

To conclude, the ending of Daenerys Targaryen was largely misogynistic as it painted a brutal and dishonourable murder as an act of mercy and gave the killer (sorry man, I feel like I’m throwing you under the bus here, but it must be said) a sympathetic angle as a heartbroken martyr sacrificing for the greater good. I had high expectations, I really did, but you just took it anD THREW IT IN THE DIRT. Good god. But it’s fine, I have fanfiction anyway.

Thank you for reading this, if you stuck around this far!

[bat-besties]

Your secret is safe with me

A belated present for @djpurple3

Declyn and Virgil are the ultimate duo when it comes to close-up magic and its use in cons - and that's as much Delcyn's skill as Virgil being an actual mage on the run from the army.

As the two travel around the country through each season, their familiar dynamic begins to shift with the weather. 

6k words. Anxceit Fantasy AU with friends to lovers, bed-sharing, card games, and a lot of friendly bickering. 

AO3 

Edited and titled and with snow description by the lovely @5-crofters-jams 

------

Clubs

“Is this your card?” Declyn flicked his fingers to display the four of clubs.

The woman leaned back on her chair with a creak. “My baby sister could do better close-up magic than that.” She raised her eyebrows at the tent hung with yellow and black awnings and faintly mystical sigils before settling with particular disgust on Declyn himself. He was decked out in a pastiche of the outfits of the Royal Wizardry, the private army of the king any mage was required to join by law. It wouldn’t have been convincing even if they weren’t usually stationed at the palace. But the deception wasn’t meant to be seamless; he was clearly a charlatan. 

The sound of the rest of the fairground was barely faded, people chatting, singing, and cheering like a pack of wild animals.  

He gave her a brittle smile. “Is it, good lady?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Very good,” Declyn said, lingering over the words as he reached for another deck of cards. He shuffled it without looking, the cards falling back and forth and crossing around his hands. For a moment, he let go, and the cards kept on shuffling. He took her palm and laid it face-up on the table. To the woman’s credit, if the cards moving by themselves were surprising to her she didn’t show it. “Now. Let’s get down to the real business, hm?” 

“Going to tell me I’m going to find a tall, dark and handsome husband?” she said derisively. 

Declyn nodded as he bent over her hand. “Oh, totally, that is the classic line and I always follow it-” Then he looked behind her, whip-quick. He squinted at the air. “Oh. Oh, but this is very interesting. You’d like a tall, dark and handsome husband, wouldn’t you, a certain...Jake, is his name isn’t it?” 

She shifted uncomfortably, but she couldn’t pull her hand from his fingers encircling her wrist. “Who told you that?”

He waved his other hand into the air as a smirk snaked across his face. “Magic, good lady. Nothing more.” 

“Will he-” she bit her words off. “Someone must have gossiped.”

Declyn tilted his head. “Will he what?” He put on a sympathetic frown. “Will he love you back?” 

“If you were really a mage you’d be arrested by now,” she said with a toss of her head. A blush stole over her cheeks; her eyes didn’t meet Declyn’s; her pulse was rushing where his fingers touched it. Numbers and people, those were the only things Declyn knew how to read and they gave him more information than a thousand citadels of books. 

He hummed noncommittally. 

Screams rose outside before being suddenly cut off. He suppressed a flicker of irritation at having to work with this noise, let the moment stretch, and...

“So? Do you know if he likes me?”

Based on the way Jake was hanging over the bar every moment this woman’s coworker was serving… “I’d say no.” 

Her face crumpled into anger. “Why you-”

“Ah, ah, ah!” He held up a single finger. “He doesn’t like you yet.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about you-”

Declyn reached into the shadows of the tent and plucked a bottle of coloured liquid from them. “I had a feeling you would visit.” The candles flickered as a breeze stirred the tent. Their light made the bottle almost look as though it glowed from within.

She couldn’t look away from it. Five gold pieces had been the plan… should he stretch to ten? 

“Of course, there is a price… perhaps-” 

The tent disappeared. Declyn blinked for a moment at where it had been, then at the crowd whispering and cackling at the sight at him, then at the people in the same robes as him but which looked incredibly genuine surrounding him with their hands outstretched like they were about to attack-

He slowly brought his arms down and put them parallel along his stomach, fists turned against his body in a gesture which in an actual mage would have meant the only person he could shoot at was himself.   “Ah! Respected mages!” He put on a smile which suggested that, if he had magic, sweet wildflowers would grow wherever he stood. “Come to enjoy the fair, I see?”

“Are you a mage?” the leader barked at him. Authority was carried in every line of her body, from the proud arch of her neck to the tense stance she stood in, like a lioness ready to pounce.

Declyn weighed his life over his profits. He took a moment too long to admit, “No. I’m a performer. Some skill in reading people, a love of close-up illusion, you get the picture-”

“People of Goodwyn,” she said loudly. “Have you any proof of this man being a mage?”

The woman raised her hand nervously to point at his card deck. “He can make it move without touching it.” 

Rolling his eyes, Declyn picked them up again and began to shuffle them, then drew them out to show a thin thread connecting them which was clearly visible in the strong sunlight. He wove his hands across each other to show how he manipulated the thread. Unlike earlier, his hands never left the end cards. 

“He wouldn’t stoop to that if he had magic-” one of them said to the leader. 

“If he was dodging service? He’d stoop to anything,” the leader said. 

Declyn gave her a brittle smile, biting back comments about the nobility of murder and being used as the pawns of a tyrant king, about the reasons a person might not want to be a living weapon- but they were words in defense of someone who would be best served if he kept his mouth shut. “I repeat my deepest apologies for my insolence. Now, if you would return me my tent, respected mages, I shall be on my way.” 

With a wave of her hand, the leader brought back the tent neatly folded. “I’d leave this fair, were I you. You’re an embarrassment to yourself more than you are to our fine institution. Magic is not a toy, and you are out of line.” 

“I’m glad to have a reminder of my place,” he said with a wide, insincere smile. He swept everything on the table up in the velvet cloth and tied the top. “A simple person without magic such as myself forgets.” The table collapsed with a bang and he slung it over his back with two leather straps he’d attached to the base. The chairs folded, the tent could be carried slung over his arm. The illusion was broken, clear as anything. He held the chairs out at an angle from him as he walked past, forcing the mages back out of his path, and he let the bottom of the table drag along the grass, flattening it. A little petty, but what could they expect? 

More than anything, he wanted a final quip about Jake to the woman, a smooth exit line, and he would have dared it if he was alone. But the chairs were a barrier, the grass was flattened so it wouldn’t show footsteps, and those simple tricks were one of the less graceful flourishes in the most elaborate and longest-running con of his. 

Invisible as he had been in the tent when he moved the cards, swirled the breeze, handed Declyn the bottle and read the cards over the woman’s shoulder, a true mage followed Declyn out to safety. 

What better place to hide than with someone who any accusations against would look ridiculous?

And how better to scam people with magic than adding a real mage to your battery of card-tricks, illusion, and ability to read people? 

*

The road stretched out over the horizon through green stretching in every direction. Tufts of grass sprung up in the dirt road, blowsy white flowers lay sprinked like spilled popcorn in the fields, the smell of dust and wild garlic and the unrepentant blue of the sky arching above them anchored the two travellers into the moment. Fat drops of fuzz buzzed through the air, bumblebees similarly intent on their destination. The men’s backs were bowed with the weight of their possessions, and the one-two scuff of their feet in time beat a familiar pattern. 

There wasn’t silence between them; that space was too filled with birdsong, chirping insects and the occasional exhale as one adjusted the heavy pack on his back.

Declyn didn’t look as striking outside of his fake robe, he was of medium height, medium build, and had hair and eyes the same colour as the road. The mage also didn’t have an appearance which might have betrayed his identity, not in the same way the leader’s confident posture might have. He was dark-haired, dark-eyed, and heavy eye-bags gave him a look of perpetual exhaustion. That exhaustion was most often directed at the partner in his illegal double-act. 

When Declyn had run into him fresh out of running from the army, he’d been a mess of sharp angles and edges, eyes never able to stay in one place or meet another person’s, skittering between attacks of insult and defenses of overdone apology. Now, he could be hardly described as relaxed, but he could fall into playful banter or slow contemplation with Declyn easily, or their winding, passionate conversations which tried to set everything right in a society they existed in the periphery of. Rest, hearty inn food, being less anxious and not pushing his magic as much had rounded out the edges of his face and body. 

Declyn watched as Virgil scrunched his face up and tilted it into the sun, leaving his eyes closed longer than he’d be comfortable with if he were anxious. Once Virgil had blinked his eyes back open, it seemed now would be as good a time as any to bring up the raid. 

“Thank you for following me out, Virgil, I do appreciate you not trying anything hasty. Fireballs are not as much your forte as invisibility.” 

“That was one time!” Virgil protested. “I’m not the one who got us run out of town for somehow finding a real truth serum to sell the mayor.” Declyn knew he wasn’t annoyed as his tone would have suggested to someone else.

“Now that it’s over, we can laugh about it!” Declyn said. “The admission he was hoarding grain really did cause such consternation! Nothing so exciting had happened in that little town for years.”

“We could laugh if I didn’t almost get an arrow in the ass,” Virgil grumbled, but the corners of his mouth were twitching up despite himself. His low voice and withdrawn expressions were only intimidating five minutes into meeting him, Declyn thought. After that, they were practically endearing. 

“Oh, of course, of course,” Declyn said, voice dripping with sarcasm. The effect was lost because he, too, was smiling. Encounters like the one earlier could really spook Virgil, and he was glad this one hadn’t as much. 

One-two, one-two. They didn’t even notice how in time their footsteps were.

“You did a good job,” Virgil said. “They were idiots, not High Command, and that helped a lot. But you weren’t too bad.”

“Why, thank you, Virgil,” Declyn said archly. “I shall remember your effusive compliments for the rest of my days.”

“Course you will,” Virgil said. He tilted his face into the sun once again. “This weather would be nice if it didn’t make you so fucking sweaty.”

“Strike two for being charming. I feel I might just swoon away.”

“You’re the silver-tongued one of the group - as you keep telling me they called you in your home city.” Virgil teased. “So you should be doing the flirting.”

“They also said I was cold-hearted.” Declyn’s face twisted into a pantomime of disgust. “Rue the day I flirt with you.” 

They laughed together, the noise swooping over the birdsong and buzzing insects, a natural part of the summer landscape. 

“The thought of you being in one of those little squadrons is bizarre,” Declyn said. “You’re so not a team player.”

“Yeah, not a huge fan of groups,” Virgil said. “Or leaders. Or orders.” He shrugged. “Or the group hating you for not following cruel orders, but that’s just the way of that kind of structure, isn’t it?” 

A rebellious village who wouldn’t pay taxes after a poor harvest; being pushed into formation by his leader; the order to burn and destroy what the crown couldn’t have- 

a deluge of water to put it all out which shocked them so much they didn’t trace it to Virgil until he was invisible and untraceable in the woods. 

“It’s best to work alone, this we both know well,” Declyn said. He’d struck off alone when he was just barely sixteen, leaving the crowded city he’d been born in where his cup games and card tricks had to jostle with hundreds of others scratching and pushing for a living, heading for the novelty of the mountains and travel. Even before, he’d been a solitary child- how much that was a choice and how much he’d driven away other children in his deceitful schemes and scheming deceits was a matter of interpretation between him and them. He was always wanting, wanting, wanting, and until he met Virgil and began to work even more elaborate schemes, he thought there wasn’t even a chance his ambition could be satisfied.

Virgil nodded. “Nice to work alone with you.”

There was a not-entirely serious lilt to his voice, and it quietened something inside Declyn. He gave Virgil a cordial nod, also not entirely serious. “Likewise.”

Virgil gave a little evil laugh. “That’s right. You’re stuck with me.” 

Diamonds

“Virgil, never in my life have I met someone who washes brambles straight off the hedgerow. Please, eat them like a human being.”

Autumn meant walking back to the fires of the city, and walking meant stealing brambles (as Declyn would say) or blackberries (as Virgil insisted they were called) off the hedgerows they passed, along with the apples of any farmer who had let his tree grow too far over his fences.

Virgil plucked another blackberry off the hedgerow and hosed it down with a little stream of water he collected from the moisture in the air. His eyes glowed purple as he used his magic. “You don’t know where this thing has been.”

“On the bloody hedgerow!” Declyn said with a wild gesture at the clean-looking bush. “Where else?”

“Maybe there are insects in it, or maybe...a mouse has been there, or-”

Delcyn was bickering, but not annoyed. “Sometimes I forget you grew up in the palace, and at times like this-”

“You say that like I was a prince rather than a child soldier-”

“Child soldier, you’re so dramatic, you were a cadet at best-”

“And, yes, we did wash fruit, so we didn’t get sick-”

“Virgil,” Declyn took a big breath. “Are you completely sure that this innocent little berry, washed by the rains, dried by the suns, is less hygienic than some of the food we get served at the cheaper of the inns?���  

“Look, if an insect gets into a stew at least it’s not alive.” Virgil picked another one and washed it again. “Just let me live, dude.”

Declyn looked at the orange leaves which fell as they did every year, showing the turning of the seasons, the sky cloudy and stretching out to infinity, the dew-drops on a spider’s web which was itself a miracle of nature. Then he decided he was much too petty to let this go. “Of course, there’s nothing more normal than washing your brambles- sorry, blackberries -” He picked a ripe one and tossed it upward to catch with his mouth.

There was a flash as the blackberry disappeared and reappeared in Virgil’s own hand. He carefully hosed it down, eyes glowing with purple in a way Declyn knew was natural but nevertheless decided to read as an insult, and then handed it back to Declyn with a completely shit-eating grin. “Now you’re not gonna get poisoned.”

Declyn held up a single finger as he gathered his faculties.

Virgil couldn’t help snorting with anticipatory laughter.

“Never-” Declyn began

“Uh-huh?”

“-so insulted-”

“Oh really?”

“This is an affront, a misuse of your magic-”

“You sound like the leader I had when I was thirteen-”

Out of principle, Declyn threw the blackberry to the side of the road.

Virgil merely opened a hand and it flew back into it. He began to hose it off again.

“Virgil, not once in my thirty years of life have I felt the need to rinse a piece of fruit. I am not a bloody noble. Outside of the palace, neither drinking water nor food were so abundant.”

Virgil flicked his eyes over Declyn, to see if he’d gone too far. It wasn’t like tension could build up about their backgrounds with how often they bickered bringing them into it, but there were sensitive parts for both of them. “Give me a bet,” Virgil said.

“Pardon?”

“Give me a bet,” Virgil repeated. “The winner gets the other to eat his way.”

Declyn rolled his eyes. He knew Virgil was placating him, but...he didn’t mind too much. “Fine. The bet is very easy. You find a single insect on a blackberry, and you’re justified.”

“How’d you know I won’t lie to you that I saw one?”

Declyn gave Virgil a look. They both knew Virgil didn’t lie to Declyn. Whether Declyn did to Virgil they were much less sure about - or, Declyn was more unsure than Virgil seemed to be.

“Fine,” Virgil said. “C’mon you wriggly little motherfuckers...”

As Virgil poked around the hedgerow, Declyn continued contentedly eating blackberries, happy to pause walking for a short while. He scrunched his eyes and tilted them up into the weakening rays of the autumn sun.

Five minutes later, Virgil conceded defeat.

“I win, of course,” Declyn crowed. Even if Virgil had given it to him, victory was still tart and sweet as he popped a blackberry into his mouth.

Virgil took one of the highest brambles from the hedgerow. With ceremony, he placed it on his tongue. “Well,” he said after it was eaten. “I’m not dead yet.”

“No. I wish we could carry more of these,” Declyn mused. “It would be nice further on down the road…”

Virgil tilted his head as he thought about that. “You got that empty bottle from earlier? The one which had mead in it.”

“Unfortunately I might have possibly sat on my pack when we had lunch and there was a rather nasty crunching.”

Virgil hummed in thought. “Can you give me the pieces?”

Declyn rooted through his backpack and found the shards at the bottom, which he carefully extracted and put into Virgil’s cupped hands.

After just a moment focusing on the shapes, Virgil’s eyes began to glow as the edges of the glass shards melted and attached, so a crystalline bowl shape was made. “There you are.”

It looked almost like the kind of diamond dishes nobles would propose with.

“Yes, a thousand times yes!” Declyn said as he took it off Virgil. “Oh, my darling.”

“What the-” Virgil looked back at the bowl again and his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh!” He laughed. “Only the most expensive things for you.”

“My, it sparkles in the sun like how your eyes look when you hear your favourite edgy songs about ghosts and lost lovers started by a fair performer!” Declyn teased. “It’s almost as cutting as your comments! And it’s so deep-” He flashed Virgil a smile. “It still probably can’t carry as much as those eye bags, though.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, less into the play-acting. He seemed almost embarrassed.  “I thought I’d get you something as genuine as you are.”

Declyn held a hand over his heart. “You say the sweetest things.”

They walked on, filling the makeshift bowl with blackberries- “Brambles,” Declyn corrected.

“It’s my wedding too, I can call them blackberries.”

“If I call you handsome, can I call them brambles?”

Virgil’s cheeks went pink, and Declyn laughed, because he had won - even if he was pretty sure Virgil had still let him.

When they came into town, a group of kids in ragged clothing ran up to see the performers, and they handed over the blackberries as Declyn put on a show with close-up magic and Virgil sat and watched, seeing as he hadn’t had time to go invisible. Declyn drew coins out behind the children’s ears and left them with the kids. It might have to be a night on the grassy verge of the road, but Virgil didn’t think about stopping his partner.

They left the bowl with the kids too.

“It was Virgil’s wedding proposal to me,” Declyn said seriously.

“Really?” A girl tilted her head to look at it and assess it.

“No,” Declyn said. “It’s just glass, but don’t say that to whoever you sell it to. Besides, Virgil and I...” He met Virgil’s eyes. He’d been about to make a jab about how different they were, but that didn’t feel true. Maybe lying to Virgil was only hard when it hurt him. “When the time comes, Virgil will know when I’m proposing.”

“I’ll know when you con someone out of their dish and I help get it off them in plain sight,” Virgil joked, and warmth flooded Declyn’s chest. He’d kept his friend happy, and all was well in the world.

“You’re no good at sleight of hand,” Declyn said as if in answer to a question a few exchanges later.

The little girl wandered off, uninterested now that she had the dish.

“I don’t need it, I have actual magic,” Virgil replied.

“And you give yourself away so obviously!” Declyn said. “If it’s something like today and you can’t go invisible, you should still help.” He drew his cards out of their inside pocket of  his cloak. “Come, I should teach you.”

“Oh yeah?”

With a flick of his wrist, Declyn drew a card out of his sleeve. “This one is child’s play. Come on, at least try.”

Virgil laughed through his nose. “Only because it would piss everyone else off back home.”

Spades

It was the first snowy day of a crisp winter. As they walked in the icy cold, Declyn had teased Virgil about his cosy palace upbringing (that many mages could build crazily efficient central heating) all the way into town, and completely missed the purple flicker in Virgil’s eyes which preceded a pile of snow sliding down a rooftop and landing directly on top of him.

Declyn toppled over. The uncomfortably wet and unbearably cold sensation of snow soaking into every part of his being caused him to shriek in mild shock and not-so-mild irritation as Virgil laughed so hard he fell into the snow himself.

“And you-” Virgil was almost breathless. “You just-” He cackled. “Serves you right-” The way he laughed was bubbling and open, like a child- ha ha ha ha!

A sharp spike of something went through Declyn at the sight of Virgil, red-cheeked and eyes crinkled as he laughed in whooping bursts. He decided the spike was definitely a need for revenge. “Oh, Virgil!” He called in a sing-song voice. “I shall of course forgive this-” As soon as he had his friend’s attention he gathered up a pile of snow and lunged for Virgil’s neck. Virgil rolled out of the way at the last moment, flicking snow at Declyn. Not to be outdone, Declyn feinted right before darting his hand over Virgil’s wrist and using his knee to pin him down. He gathered a handful of snow and held it over Virgil’s face in triumph. “Any last words?”

Virgil’s chest kicked beneath Declyn and at that and his wide-eyed expression he let go immediately. “Too much?”

Virgil nodded, closing his eyes for a brief moment and pushing himself up. “Give me a moment, then I’ll utterly destroy you in a snowball fight.”

For a few moments, Declyn sat shivering as Virgil composed himself and watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. Then he leapt to his feet with a wicked grin. “Ten seconds to prepare, then we go?”

Declyn matched Virgil’s expression. “Prepare to be decimated.”

*

When they tumbled into the inn, both were soaked and shivering. Virgil looked embarrassed to come into the building that way, but Declyn was riding high on his victory and came to the counter without a shred of shame at the snowmelt he was trailing over the entrance.

“A room for two, please.” It was cheaper than two singles.

The innkeeper gave the two of them a searching look. “That’s seven fiebri, three more for breakfast, and we only have ones with one bed left.”

“That’s quite alright.” It happened sometimes, and they were happy to just stick to their own sides.

The room was small and plain, but it had a lock to protect their possessions and a bed, and that was all they needed. They dumped their soaked packs by the fire in the hope they might dry by morning, then kicked off their damp clothes and pulled on new ones, playing over the highlights of their match, and deciding they were too tired for dinner.

It was very cold, as night fell, and Delcyn teased Virgil by putting his cold feet on his back, which resulted in Virgil heating himself up so quickly that Delcyn pulled his foot away with a yelp. They fell asleep quickly, exhausted by the walking and snowball fight that day.

*

Declyn woke up to Virgil cuddled into his side. He was soft, and warm. His breath whistled through his nose as he slept and Declyn was going to have a heart attack. It hurt to be so close. All of it hurt: the way the morning light drifted across Virgil’s hair, rumpled and a little greasy from travel and completely out of bounds for Declyn to touch, how defenseless Virgil was, the warmth pressed steady to his side, the scent of soap and smoke- the curve of Virgil’s cheek, how it had softened since he left the army, even his bloody eye bags which didn’t disappear after hours of rest-

Declyn could read cards and other people, nothing else. This pain was a foreigner in his body; he couldn’t translate what it was telling him. It was just Virgil.

Was he angry at Virgil? No. No, that felt all wrong. Jealous? Grieving? No, Virgil wasn’t going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.

They were stuck together, weren’t they? This was...it, now.

Declyn and Virgil. The same scam, the same routine, the same banter, the same understanding, the same room every night. To his horror, heat prickled at the corner of his eyes. That sounded perfect.

Scrunching his eyes shut to try and squeeze the tears away, he instead sent one rolling down his cheek and onto Virgil’s.

“-fucking inn-keeper,” Virgil growled without opening his eyes. His voice was rough with sleep and to hear the normal rasp of it from him now, with the foreign aching beating at Declyn’s breastbone like a second heart, was cataclysmic.

Suppressed sobs were tremors, tears flooded his eyes, and the wanting wanting wanting Virgil usually quieted in him was back, but as something entirely different. He wanted Virgil to be awake, and with him, and at the same time he couldn’t bear for him to see.

Naturally, Virgil woke at Declyn's slight shaking beside him. "Dec?" his eyes blinked open. "Oh, fuck, I..." He scrambled back to the corner of the bed, trying to give Declyn as much space as possible. "I'm so sorry, I was asleep, I swear. Maybe you can try and breathe with me-"

Declyn didn't know what to do. He threw Virgil's pillow at him. "I'm not panicking, you fool."

"...you kind of seem like you are, dude." Virgil got off the bed fully, edging towards the door. "Do you want space? I can hang out downstairs, give you time-"

At that, Declyn's sobs only increased.

"What- what is the matter, then?" He was panicking, and it was so like him, Declyn thought, and-

Declyn had never called a spade a spade if he could call it an ‘digging implement with exciting capabilities never seen before- you could even carry it by the handle!’ and sell it for twice the price, but Virgil was adamant about not letting Declyn even subtly convince or manipulate him. Besides, his words felt inadequate and flimsy. There was no dignified way to ask for what he wanted.

“Come cuddle me, you dumb fuck,” Declyn sobbed.

Virgil’s eyes widened and he came back to  bed, laying down besides Declyn. “Geez, they don't say you're silver-tongued and cold-hearted for nothing,” he grumbled. But he scooted up to Declyn and wrapped his arms back around him gently.

Declyn buried his face in the crook of Virgil’s neck, curling his arms in front of him as he squished against Virgil’s chest.

Virgil didn’t ask what was up, even though this was hugely out of character. He just held Declyn close and rubbed his back occasionally.

Needing to be close, not knowing why, Declyn wiggled his ankle between Virgil’s and in response Virgil tangled their legs together.

Virgil breathed deeply, already sounding like he was half back to sleep.

Declyn let their chests move together. He could feel Virgil’s heartbeat.

After some time, Declyn’s sobs tailed off but he didn’t want to let go. Still, he should compose himself, put himself back together, all of that…

But he didn't. Around them, the sound of people clattering around to get out of their rooms came through the thin wall, there was a distant crash, a shouted disagreement. They made the moment better, because they made it real. Declyn felt a puff of air in his hair as Virgil slid back into sleep, and he let his own eyes flutter shut. Just a few more minutes of this and they'd be on the road....

And so, Declyn drifted back off into sleep in the arms of his partner.

They woke up late, ran a game involving Virgil vanishing and reappearing dice, then walked to the next village, all without discussing it. That night-

“Single or double bed?” Another bored innkeeper, almost indistinguishable from the one in the last town.

Declyn grinned at his friend. “Still feeling cuddly, Virge?”

“Oh, I think a little birdie told me the answer-” In the same elaborate gesture as Declyn used to reveal the products of his close-up illusion, Virgil flipped his partner in crime off.

“Shame, really. You do run like a furnace. All that luxurious heat as a child must have soaked into your skin-”

“-and they say the streets of your city are covered in shit.”

The innkeeper was singularly unimpressed at their snarking. “One or two?”

Virgil shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to take pity on Declyn’s cold-bloodedness and say one.”

In a worldless negotiation of eyes and limbs, they found themselves tangled together before they drifted off that night.

Since it was winter, they said a week later, this new arrangement was sensible.

As the buds began to bloom into spring, it didn’t change.

Hearts

It was a hot afternoon, pregnant and storm-heavy, the kind of sky which made Declyn ache in wanting. Spring was ending, and endings made him antsy. Time to go, to move, to do...but they’d eaten their lunch in the shade of an oak tree and the light was dappling Virgil’s face, and the wanting stilled into restless playfulness.

“Come on, Virgil, indulge me and guess the top card of this pile.” Declyn shook the pack at him. “It’s brand new.”

“I literally saw you cut it open and remelt the seal yesterday,” Virgil said.

“Details, details,” Declyn dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Come on, do guess. No magic.”

Virgil stuck his tongue out at Declyn, but took the pack of cards and turned them over in his hands. “Uh...well, you said that people usually go for the picture cards, so it’s better to pick a number card. But then, you know I know that, so you might just pick a picture card, if this was for me and not someone else…”

Declyn didn’t reveal anything, putting on a very impressive poker face as he watched Virgil’s lashes tilt downwards as he looked down at the cards. Virgil cut him a searching look.

“Oh…” Virgil said, his face glowing more red than gold despite the yellow light.  

Declyn raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Virgil ran a finger over the seam of the cards, eyes glowing purple as he disappeared the wax effortlessly. “Ace of hearts,” he said simply. He tipped out the pack to reveal, as he’d said, the ace of hearts on the top of the pile. “Is this your card?”

“It is indeed,” Declyn said. “I’m impressed.”

Virgil gave him another untranslatable look. He flicked his wrist, and Declyn was looking in his eyes as the card disappeared, so he saw there was no real magic used. Sleight of hand.

Declyn raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you can surprise me without your magic?” But his voice was approving, and suggested he would very much like to be surprised.

At that, whatever the look was intensified, Virgil’s mouth setting in a competitive quirk. He shifted closer to Declyn. He put his hand into the pocket over Declyn’s chest, and from it pulled- “Is this your heart?”

“Card,” Declyn corrected quietly. The brush of Virgil’s fingers still burned warm against his chest.

“I know what I said,” Virgil said. He was more hesitant, his eyes shifting as they searched Declyn’s own. Looking for something. Scared, but not backing away. A flush rising in his cheeks.

What was Declyn’s heart? Frozen solid, a shouting foreigner, a traitor which now flooded his own face with colour?

Slowly, he reached out to push Virgil’s hand holding the card against Virgil’s own heart. He moved their hands again, to feel the fluttering of Virgil’s chest. Last night, his head had risen and fell as it laid on Virgil’s steady breathing. His lips parted. Words, however, had deserted him.

His eyes met Virgil’s again, and there was no beating in his own chest, even as Virgil’s heart thudded against his fingers. He recognised that foreign rhythm from inside himself, from the first night of snow. “Virgil,” he said distantly.

“Yes?”

“Virgil, how long have we loved each other?”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Both of us?”

Declyn nodded.

“I- I loved you- shit, Dec, I don’t know. I just- I guess I thought about it dicking around with the bowl. When you got all excited about teaching me card tricks after. I dunno if it was before, or after, but around- around then.” Virgil was beginning to tear up. “Do you-?”

“I don’t know,” Declyn said. “I didn’t know. But I think-” He moved one hand from Virgil’s chest to clumsily wipe at his tears. “I think, yes. I do. For a long time, now.”

“Then come kiss me, oblivious,” Virgil said gruffly, a little choked-up.

Declyn leaned in without thinking more.

It was Virgil.  The scent of soap and smoke. A quirk at the corner of his mouth that he couldn’t control. Steady pressure, warm and soft. He made sense. He was real. The kiss was not everything Declyn had imagined - Declyn had been too stupid to imagine, too scared, maybe-

But had he tried to imagine, this was nothing he could pretend.

When they pulled away both of their faces were tear-tracked. “Absolutely no-one else can know we both cried like this,” Virgil said with a wet laugh.

“And no-one will,” Declyn said, wiping at his own eyes. “Your secret is safe with me.”

In the distance, the sky broke into rain. They could see the curtain of it hanging over the mountains, grey and misting. The air began to cool, even as far away as they were, and the golden light sharpened as if reflected off glass. It was the kind of weather which made Declyn curl up against Virgil’s side, letting his partner card his hand through his hair. Tension eased from the air, shivering the leaves above as it drained away into swirling breezes. The land rolled endless away from them, with its skeins of roads unravelling into the distance. They had travelled so many of them this spring, but the playful light made them look new once more. As always, the roads tugged a place inside Declyn he didn’t think would ever be subdued. That tugging would pull them to new adventures, every day as long as he followed it. For now, it was a sweet ache as they took their unhurried time underneath the oak tree.

They kissed again, long and slow as summer days. It felt a lot like a beginning.