#the lambs cloak needs so much detail

[circuscountdowns]

posting these painting sketches to give myself permission to not work on them anymore - witness narinder and the lamb god of death

[nezuscribe]

𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬

summary: in a land where marriage is set in stone at birth and love is but a myth, a girl tries her best to navigate the life she's been born into. when her father assigns her own knight, somebody he trusts to look after her in these dangerous times, nobody would have expected the brave young soldier to twist her story with his, taking your life into a spin that was unforeseen by the fates.

pairing: bakugo katsuki x fem!reader

genre: forbidden love, royalty au, strangers to friends to lovers, comfort, mild angst, fluff

warnings: mdni 18+, all characters are aged up, detailed sex, heavy making out, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, a little bit of a hand job, grinding, all the works lmao, mentions of depressive thoughts, nothing too explicit

notes: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

as always, thank you so much @jadeisthirsting for beta reading this and helping me throughout this fic!

mha masterlist

The bazaars of Afrasiab were unlike any other, and they dimmed in comparison to what the mind could imagine. All of the land in Persia held its animosity, a secret that can only be revealed by sight, but the bazaars there were something no tongue could describe and no ear to relay correctly.

They smelled of lamb and beef kabobs, cooked to perfection, began wafting around the carts of fabrics early in the morning. The mountains of spices were perfectly balanced in their own little plates, laying undisrupted until they caught the eye of curious passersby.

Many streets carried deep underground, for when the bazaar needed continuing and couldn’t be held entirely on top, and the hidden passages held wonders unknown to man.

Unfortunately, however, for somebody seeing these bustling markets for the first time, they tended to be confusing to figure out at the least, and nearly impossible to navigate most of the time.

The young woman who traveled closely with his cloak perched over her head tried to wind through the serpentine stalls, keeping his chin close to her chest as she only watched through the corners of her eyes, careful not to bring attention to herself nor the satchel in her hand. It was all so new to her, every sight she was intaking a far cry from what she was accustomed to seeing. The faint cries of the salesman trying to sell his silver tableware or the santur being played somewhere distant was an overload to somebody who was used to the strange serenity the palace offered.

Everything was a sight to behold. She never came to buy something, only to see. She liked the way this place almost had its own separate language, how it awoke at dawn and never seemed to sleep. She loved how the shopkeepers, always respectful of one another in their boundaries, tried their best to outdo one another in favor of better business.

The way someone shouted to gain the attention of somebody, the way they laced their words with enough enthusiasm to keep the shoppers interested was something she never grew tired of. In comparison to the bleak life that was awaiting her when she got back, these little bits of excitement were enough enrichment to keep her going for a little bit longer.

She took it all in, enjoying the opportunity as she doubted it’d be trusted upon her again, and smiled to herself at the mosaics that lined the curved walls, the dim light the candles offered helped her navigate through the underground bazaar. She looked through all the silverware, the plates painted with utmost care.

She looked through and let her fingers graze above the satin fabrics all dyed a different color. The smells of turmeric and saffron flooded her nose, mixing with the occasional whiff of rose, and she felt as though all these things at once were too compelling alone for a human mind.

No stories nor descriptions could have prepared her for what she was going to experience. It was magical, something surely out of a book. Despite that, however, every minute she spent trying to enjoy the sights was another minute that clicked in her mind mentally.

“Oi,” A gruff voice snapped, jolting her rudely out of her ongoing daydream, “Watch it.”

His eyes shined brighter than the pomegranate seeds you were used to seeing every day. His jaw was carved, his body stiff. He was large, unusually so, and the only time you had seen a man of his size and demeanor was a man heading off to war.

Even with the little bits, you could see of him you could tell that he was simply gorgeous, a crude beauty that nature had somehow created out of her own force. Sure, all the men you were used to seeing were either a couple of years older than you (or so old you wondered how they were even living) and snotty, but you knew that this sort was beyond anything. Had he not been waiting so impatiently for you to talk, you wouldn’t have stumbled to get something out.

Even with the little bits, you could see of him you could tell that he was simply gorgeous, a crude beauty that nature had somehow created out of her own force. Sure, all the men you were used to seeing were either a couple of years older than you (or so old you wondered how they were even living) and snotty, but you knew that this sort was beyond anything. Had he not been waiting so impatiently for you to talk, you wouldn’t have stumbled to get something out.

Even with the little bits, you could see of him you could tell that he was simply gorgeous, a crude beauty that nature had somehow created out of her own force. Sure, all the men you were used to seeing were either a couple of years older than you (or so old you wondered how they were even living) and snotty, but you knew that this sort was beyond anything. Had he not been waiting so impatiently for you to talk, you wouldn’t have stumbled to get something out.

“Apologies,” You muttered, adjusting your robes again so that they covered your clothing underneath, not wanting anybody to get a quick glimpse of the tunic underneath, glancing up as you gave him an apologetic grin, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

He nodded curtly, seeming to agree with you as his gaze roamed your face, trying to decipher you for whatever reason as he gave a low grunt.

“It’s alright.” His lips pressed into a thin line, moving past you as he readjusted his hood. You opened your mouth, pausing when you watched his lips twitch, looking left and right as you felt your shoulders shrinking in defeat.

But you knew that he had already seen your face, heard you speak. There was no point in hiding yourself from one stranger if he could already identify you based on this encounter. And seeing how you knew it was dark outside, the hours seeming to have slipped quickly through your fingers, and you had no means of getting out, you gave into the one and only rule you had created for yourself.

“Sir!” You called out, watching as he had almost turned his back to leave, watching as he stopped upon hearing you, “I apologize for interrupting, but,” You looked away for a second, your cheeks heating up under his heavy stare, “I seem to be lost. Would you happen to know the way out? Everything seems to twist together here, and I need to go home,” You paused and then added, “Please.” Hoping not to sound too distressed - even if you were - as you waited for him to say something.

The silence felt heavy despite the hustling happening behind you, and you wondered for a second if you had even spoken loudly enough so that he could hear you on top of all the distant shouts and music.

He seemed to search your face once more, maybe looking for signs of trickery or ill intent. But you seemed desperate, at least you know you sounded desperate, and any attempts of trying to fool him would have quickly dissipated under his scornful gaze. Heaven's grace, you thought to yourself, what must a man do for a living to hold such unwavering suspension?

“It’s alright, I’ll-”

“Follow me.” He murmured, cocking his head in the direction he was originally going as he maneuvered his way through the tight bodies, not waiting for you to give any sign of understanding as you quickly scurried after him, trying your best to not get lost in the thick of the crowd. Despite his tall frame, you doubted it’d be difficult to lose sight of somebody in such a congested area.

You kept a keen eye on the back of his hood, never losing sight of it as you managed to wrangle yourself closer to his side. He was surely not the nicest person you’d met all day, but you were thankful nonetheless for his openness to take you someplace without knowing you all that much (aside from you just bumping into him, of course).

“Thank you so much sir I was so incredibly lost and had no idea wh-”

“You’re a maid for the princess, aren’t you?”

You stopped talking, looking up at him with wide eyes, mouth half agape as you almost acted as if you hadn’t heard his words.

“Close your mouth, you’ll attract attention,” He said as he pushed past people, never meeting your shocked eyes once as he expertly moved through the thicker parts of the stalls. Once he looked down at you, seeing that you didn’t listen to what he had just said, his brows creased down the middle, “Are you deaf?” He snapped and your cheeks heated in embarrassment and you begrudgingly obliged.

“I…I don’t know how you reached such a drastic conclusion.” You said through clenched teeth, but you doubted denying anything after your so obvious reaction would help your case. Proving your thoughts right, the man only snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t act daft,” His eyes keenly followed your hands, focusing on your wrist as he clicked his tongue against his teeth, a tsk following shortly after as he looked back up at you, “Gold? I doubt anything other than a servant to the princess or a concubine to a king would be able to afford such a thing. And wearing it to such a leisurely activity? I’d wager good money that you have a heftier bracelet sitting unattended at home.”

Your mouth ran dry as you paused, not believing how he was able to deduce so much in a short matter of seconds, but you guessed that his calculating look wasn’t only for suspicion. He was reading into you much more than you had initially guessed he was.

“Are you a spy?” You asked, your voice hushed though you wanted to bet a hefty amount that nobody other than him would be able to hear.

“Far from it.” He heaved a laugh, looking around every second or so, his eyes darting all over the walls as though he was in search of something. Or maybe as if something was in search of him.

“Then…what are you?”

His eyes fleeted down to you, his lips pursing as they began their curious journey.

“Never mind what I am.” He answered back, his hand wavering above your back as he veered you to the right, saving you from colliding into somebody who came barreling from somewhere you hadn’t even noticed.

“How - how can I trust you won’t harm me?” He laughed again at your naiveté-laced question.

“Had I planned on harming you, I would have done so already,” He made a sharp left turn, “I apologize to be the one to tell you this, but you mustn't be the princess's favorite maid.”

Your brows furrowed, your lip turning downward as you asked him why. There was no point in pretending, or at least to some degree, if he was so willing and correct in reading you.

“Sending you away without any form of security is a clear indication.”

You huffed, looking elsewhere even though he seemed victorious in his statement.

“Stay safe, m’lady.” He said finally, giving you a nod as you stammered to get your thoughts collected.

And you would have pressed him further on how he had such a quick wit, on who exactly he was, and how he had managed to decipher you faster than anybody you had met in your lifetime, but he had brought you to the opening of the bazaar. And before you could even thank the stranger for leading you here, let alone question him on anything else, he had managed to slip back into the crowd. His brown cloak mixed in with everybody else, and no matter how hard you craned your neck, it was as though you were searching for a lost shell in the ocean.

—

“Y/n!”

Damn it.

You winced at the shrill shriek as you felt your entire body tense up at the sound. You were so close, too. Just a couple feet in front of those double doors and you would have been safely shielded away from the wandering eyes of the palace.

“...Yes?” You slowly said as you turned around, scurrying off to take your robes off, the royal garments underneath beginning to bleed through as you tried to hide the evidence behind your back, but to no avail.

Roshanak, though she was far cry from her namesake, trotted up to you, snatching the tattered clothes out of your hands as her nose flared.

Her face was red, beet red, as she looked back at you, seething. Her dark brown curls were tucked away under a loose scarf, peeking through as they fell into her face. Although her eyes were usually calm, warm in tone, and relaxing to look into, they looked almost molten right now. The crow's feet at the corner of her eyes tugged upwards as she raised her eyebrows.

The rose petal she had patted across her lips and cheeks in the morning was almost gone now, but the little bit remaining seemed to only add more color to her already heating face. Had this not been a recurring thing you would have been terrified, but, alas, you only looked away in vexation.

“You were out. Again.” It wasn’t a question more than a statement.

You nodded slowly, angry at yourself that you got caught, clutching your hands together as you felt your head sink in regret. No matter how many times you ventured out of the palace walls, they always seemed to come back to find you, hiding you away when you were fingertips away from knowing the true world. A real shame, you always told yourself, to have land dedicated to your family, yet never know what it truly holds.

“Y/n…why?” Had she not taken care of you for the twenty years she had, you would have guessed she was your mother. She could have acted the part. That you were sure of. You opened your mouth to speak, but she didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself. Though,  it’s not like your reasoning had changed all that much.

“The last time - okay - I forgave you. And the time before that, too! But you are pushing the limits, Y/n. You cannot keep expecting me to keep this a secret forever, can you?” Which directly translated to: you can’t expect your father to not find out, right?

“Roshanak-”

“No,” She cut you off, shaking her head as she held onto your cloak tightly, wrinkles forming in their presence as she shakes her head fiercely, her brown eyes scorching unlike never before as she raises a finger to pause you, “No more guilt tripping me. I am only so much of a person to be taken advantage of.”

“But-”

“No! You listen to me,” She snapped, “This is a dangerous game you’re playing. Sneaking out? Without notifying anybody? How can I know you’ll come back? How should I report to your father that his daughter has slipped out and is now missing? On my watch? And what if somebody saw you and recognized you -  then what do I do?”

“I-”

“Quiet!” You shrunk at her curt and furious yell, sore fire burning in your eyes, shaming its way across your face as you tried not to yell. A proper woman never yelled. Never in the middle of a hallway, at least, “God help me,” She muttered, her eyes looking up like she was trying to find Him within the ceiling, “Y/n, what will I do with you? All these years for nothing? How am I supposed to make you ready to be wed when-”

“I don’t want to be wed!”

Roshanak almost dramatically gasped, looking wildly around, hoping that nobody had heard your outburst, she went to snap back again but you didn’t let her, “I hope, Roshanak, I pray that every time I go out, that every time I leave this godforsaken place, that somebody recognizes me-”

“Y/n, stop this-” She tried to warn you but you continued.

“That they know me and they hate me. So that if they do something, if they hurt me, kill me-”

“Y/n!” She yelled, no longer caring about how loud she was because you didn’t seem to care either.

“That at least I wouldn’t be shamed to my grave for doing it myself!”

She choked out a cough, her eyes wide as your lips trembled, your chest heaving up and down as you tried to control yourself after your outburst. Your cheeks were wet with tears, gods, you weren’t ever going to get out of that habit, were you? And your hands were shaking, and it seemed like your lungs were contracting up and down, up and down. It wasn’t the first time you had planned on saying these exact words, but damn you, this was the first time you said it out loud.

What had set you off? You wondered aimlessly to yourself. Had it been the awful morning full of your father listing off potential suitors? The way the stranger at the bazaar had completely seen right through you, or the insurance of the people around you on pretending as though you no longer were a person but a mere vessel for carrying out their decade-old plans?

“Y/n! Roshanak!” A third party interrupted the heavy air that sat in the middle of your two bodies, cutting through everything that was left unsaid as both of your attention went to something at the end of the hall. Roshanak gave you a single look, one that simply told you that she was undoubtedly not done with the conversation, as she turned to give her customary bows to the king. You quickly made do with wiping at your cheeks hiding any remnants of what had just perspired from the awaiting eyes that were soon to come as you wiped at your nose with the bottom of your sleeve.

“Shāhanshāh,” She muttered the words of respect to the king, bowing her head down so low to the ground that you wondered if her lips were brushing upon the cold stone.

“Baba,” You said through clenched teeth, your own complimentary greeting to the king as he gave you a warm smile. If only he knew what you were screaming about moments ago, that smile on his lips would surely have fallen by now.

“Y/n,” He said adoringly, his beard bristling upwards as his smile grew upon seeing your face, “I have exciting news. You will - Roshanak,” He paused, his eyes falling upon her clenched fist, “What is that you have in your hands?”

If she was startled, she did well at hiding it.

“Oh…just some tattered clothes one of my girls didn’t need anymore. I was just about to throw it away. My king,” She gave him a swift nod, and you felt your heart rate slow down a bit at her lie, thankful that she was still aware enough not to tell him the truth right now, “Princess.” She gave you one too, her eyes never leaving yours as she swiftly left, leaving you and your father alone to have some privacy.

He smiled warmly, giving her a nod in return as her figure retreated from view, her pattering footsteps no longer echoing across the walls as your father turned back to you, his kingly robes fallen behind him in a cascade of beautiful crimson as his smile grew once again.

“As I was saying, you will be having some new company.”

You felt your eyes squint in confusion, lips curling to the sides as you began profusely shaking your head. Gods, not another suitor, please, anything but another prince ready to pounce on you.

“But Baba,” You tried to keep the wavering of your voice to a minimum, knowing that after this long day it sounded anything but confident, “I don’t need new company. I have Roshanak and the girls, they fill up my time plenty. And I’m still deciding between the Prince of Tehran and the Crown Prince of Persepolis. I…” He held up a hand, cutting your rambling off with a knowing grin. Had you not known any better he looked more like a bazaar salesman rather than a king - too jovial for the position.

“It’s not a new servant - nor a swain, collect yourself.” He snapped at you, his voice commanding and suddenly mirroring a king’s rather than a father's.

“I’ve noticed that some tension has been building up between some cities near us, nothing to worry about,” He assured but tensions between cities were always something you worried about, “But I felt as though there is a significant lack of guards in the palace, at least, guards that serve to protect you.” He grinned, already trying to get you to see where he was going but all you were getting at was bewilderment.

“And this means…?”

“That you will be having your own guard now. Not one that stands outside our door, but one who accompanies you wherever you go.”

If there was a prize for having the worst way of delivering news, your father would surely have won it a couple of years ago.

“I,” You paused, rubbing your aching forehead as you practically felt an aching forming, “Baba, this isn’t the most promising idea-”

“Of course it is!” He clamored, clasping his hands together as his rings clinked together, “You need protection in this growing political climate. And anyway, I’ve only picked the best of the best. In fact,” He looked behind him, but you already felt as though you knew where this was starting to lead to, “He’s here-”

“He’s here?” You exclaimed, trying to keep your whisper-yell down to a minimum but you didn’t know how much the echo traveled.

“Yes, azizam, he’s here. Katsuki,” He yelled out, the shout bouncing off the high arches as you winced at the volume, “Come out!”

Before you could even disagree with this idea, that you were only wearing your simple robes and not made up for company, you could hear the loud thumps of leather shoes upon stone, clothes ruffling together as a shadow began to form of the man who your father seemed more than enthusiastic to show off to you. Almost as if he had just won an irreplaceable accolade for his daughter.

You couldn’t conceal the little cough of shock you let out when the man came into view, your father sending you a confused glance as you apologized under your breath, covering your mouth with your hands as you felt the blood drain from your face.

The man, the very one you had seen in the bazaar, was just a few feet in front of you.

He looked much different, though. Those robes had been ditched and instead, the bright red of the palace colors shined bright on his tunic. His hair was completely out, and you could see how it resembled the color of hay and straw. His frame, which had seemed so intimidating before, was clear to you now; tall and slender yet muscular, something that all knights should be. You could tell easily that his long legs allowed him to be agile when he wanted to, but his sturdy arms were perfect for carrying a weapon. You could even notice how his sword was tucked away in the sheathe, but it was noticeable, it should have been. Everything about him reeked of contained power, and you wondered how such changes could have altered his appearance so much.  

And though he tried to hide his stupefaction, agreeably better than you had, nothing could have concealed the way his eyes widened momentarily, blazing a bright red as the gold bracelet he had mistakenly identified as a simple token for a maid shined brightly in the flickering candlelight from the hallway.

“He’s ranked the highest-ranking soldier in our military. I’ve seen him in action, too,” Your father slapped his back in a proud gesture, “And I’ve spent time with him to know that he’s a suitable man for protecting you.”

You’d heard of him, how could you not have? Every story and rumor that seemed to slip from the noble mouths were either of the scandalous escapades of people ranked in your circle, or of the young knight who seemed to have stumped the Greek army with a single slash of his sword. The Greeks called him the rival of Achilles, a man who wielded the bow and arrow better than Apollo and the soldier who slain an entire army. The people around you just referred to him as the Savior of Persia.

“You're too kind, my liege.” He muttered in thanks, his cheeks glowing a dusted pink as he continued to bow down out of respect.

You swallowed thickly, watching as the man held his head down in respect. But you could see that his gaze flickered to yours, his brows scrunched up so that there were three lines down the middle as he put the pieces quickly together.

“Princess,” He bid his respectful greetings, despite the fact that you two had already met hours ago. His low voice rattled deep inside your head, and you could only pray that he was a man that kept quiet, on top of all his other achievements.

You watched as he reached for your hand, his larger ones almost enveloping yours. His fingers were large yet gentle as they held your hand, the calluses on your palm a stark comparison to the soft and manicured nails you had, a clear difference of class. And you watched as he brought it up to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss on the back of them to let it go, properly though, so that you didn’t get offended. You felt a lingering blaze where his lips had just been, and you wished you could have brought your hand up to the light to see if he had done any sort of magic to it.

Your father tensed his neck as he stared at you, waiting for you to do your own greetings as you stammered, sending him an apologetic glance as you looked at the man.

“Sir,” You ducked your down, hoping that not only would it seem more different, but it might do good in hiding the true sentiments you might have given away had you looked him dead-on, “I’m honored.”

He nodded, and your father seemed pleased with your words because his displeased look was quickly wiped off of his face as he grinned boastfully.

“The honor is all mine, princess,” The man stood up, his eyes focused on you, a thousand tales swimming behind their crimson color as he bowed his head down to you, crossing his arm over his chest, covering his heart, pledging to you, “I am here to serve and protect you. Anything you need, please let me know.”

And with that, your night shifted. No, perhaps not even that single night. After that, it seemed that your entire world began to spin in the opposite direction.

—

The palace was soon awakened from its slumber, it seemed, as it became buzzed with the news of a new knight. Especially one as venerated (and captivating) as he was. All your handmaidens could talk about for the past several weeks, more or less squeal, was how they were going to try to swoon him. But every time you snickered, knowing their little bursts of excitement were clearly heard by the man right outside your door.

And you knew you were being petty, looking away in annoyance whenever one of you girls went up to him with a dopey smile on their face, they had the opportunity to. Of course, they’d be scorned for it later, but their punishment was to do more laundry and spend less time socializing with her friends. Your liberties of choosing had been signed off for you ever since you were born, and ever since then, they’ve been growing thinner and thinner.

Your knight didn’t say a lot of things, especially not about your first interaction with each other, and for that, you were appreciative. Honestly, you could have listed off all the time you two had spoken on two hands and had some fingers remaining.

You couldn’t imagine having somebody by your side every hour of the day and talking erratically at all times. If anything, he was stoic. He didn’t say anything unless spoken to or unless absolutely necessary, and sometimes you wondered if he too was growing tired of these stone walls and the archways. There is only so much of the palace that can be seen until it all grows repetitive.

“He doesn’t talk much, does he?” Roya exclaimed, one day as she dotted roses all over your neck and wrists. You giggled at her exasperation, and with the way all the other girls seemed to, unfortunately, agree with her.

“No,” Laleh said with a heaving sigh, delicately setting the necklace down upon your neck as she angled it looking at the mirror, “He doesn’t.” She seemed to wilt at the words, her smile shrunken seeing how she was so used to men dropping at their feet for her.    

“Come on,” You said, still trying to control your laughter, patting their arms as they looked down at you, “I doubt this is the end of the world, or as you’re trying to make it out to be.” Roya let out a groan and Laleh hurriedly nodded her head in agreement with Roya’s response.

“But it is! He’s so decorated!-”

“And handsome… he is so incredibly handsome…” Laleh said dreamily as she interrupted Roya, giving her an apologetic smile as she continued.

“He can protect and fight -  I’ve heard he’s the best fighter in all of Persia. They say that his strength rivals Darius, maybe even stronger. And he can read incredibly well too; all the tales of the Shahnameh, he’s had them all memorized! Y/n, he’s better than any of the princes and nobles this land has to offer. Having him as a suitor, well, having him as a suitor would only be but the best thing to happen to a woman- '' She droned off as she saw your smile fall a bit, “Well, a woman of our status. You, however, my princess, deserve a prince!” Though she was quick to recover, it didn’t cover the fact that she was right.

“Yes…a prince.” You muttered, spitting the last word out as you balanced your chin on the palm of your hand and dejectedly sulked. The last one you had seen, merely a week ago, had been insistent on seeing you dance for him. He was turned away immediately. And the one before him had tried to sneak his hand up your skirt, but Katsuki had quickly slapped his hand away, giving the man a welt and a large bruise that set him weeping the entire horse ride home.

It seemed that once a man was bestowed the title of prince he no longer remembered what it was like to act human. As if every normal thing he had done once before was cast away and his only intention in life was now to torment women into marrying him.  

“Maybe this one’s better!” Laleh said, trying to cheer you up as she angrily swatted at Roya’s arm.

Yes, maybe this one was better. But given your luck these past few months, the man you were going to meet today was anything but a man. Maybe even worse.

“Yes, in fact, last night I prayed that he would be!” Roya said, and although it might not have been taken as a joke, it did its part in making you smile a bit, giving them both a weak and pitiful laugh as you secured the bracelet around your wrists.

Laleh finished the remaining bits of your dress, tightening up the back as she dusted it off, careful that the ruby color shined at any angle, that you looked radiating at any possible angle.

You eyed the window, the sun right in the middle of the horizon, a sign of noon. You gave them both a thankful smile, one that didn’t quite meet your gaze as you patted them both on the shoulders.

“Khoshgelam,” Beautiful, Roya muttered with pride, giving you a tender smile as you ducked your head down in embarrassment, never used to the kind words they muttered before you were sent in to meet a prince, knowing that some of them were really only to help you get through the day.

“Tashakor,” Thank you, “Roya, Laleh.” You gave them each a small nod, “And perhaps you are correct, maybe this one is better than all the ones before.” They both nodded with excitement, something that will surely be ruined in a couple of hours for now as they led you to the door, opening it for you as you gave their hands a tight squeeze.

You were met with the big back of the guard, watching as he turned around at the noise, his eyes falling upon yours as the two girls behind you practically swooned once again. He was gorgeous.

“Princess, are you ready?” He grunted out and you nodded, giving the two girls your final look of desperation as they waved you off, watching as your two figures retreated in the dark hallway, your footsteps dimming down until they could no longer see you.

The two of you walked in silence, just as you had always done, as you stared at your hands. It was exhausting to have to find somebody who was humanly decent. Everybody you had met so far was horrible, and though you were trying your best to be optimistic, the rumors surrounding the man you were about to meet were only adding more to your growing trepidation.

The man beside you never said a word, and you didn’t expect him to. But right now, you knew that if there was somebody who knew at least something more than just gossip about this potential suitor, it would be Katsuki.

“You know Saum, no?”

It had been the first time you had asked him a question, especially so randomly, and he almost stopped as he tried to understand what had just happened. You hadn’t uttered more than a couple of words to him these past few weeks he had been serving you, so this question you had asked so suddenly made him almost think he had gone insane. But looking down at you to find your curious eyes searching for him, he cleared his throat, getting ready to respond.

“I know of him, princess.” He said gruffly and you nodded weakly, your eyes never leaving the end of the hallway, your dress dragging behind you as you tried to calm your breathing down. You could only do this routine so many times before it mentally got to you.

“What do you know of him?” You questioned, looking up at his face to see in momentarily scrunch up he could have seen the horror that flashed across your eyes at his questionable reaction because he was quick to regain his composure.

“He’s a naval officer.” He said, which is something that you already knew. You scoffed in mock annoyance, rolling your eyes as you shook your head, dissatisfied with his bleak answer.

“Anything else?” You pressed, watching as he scratched his chin, obviously trying to hold back on saying something.

“That’s all I know of, princess.”

You rolled your eyes again, huffing as you realized you could never get anywhere with this man. He always referred to you by your title, gave responses no longer than ten words long, and filled the awkward silence with his even quieter demeanor.

“You’re lying to me.”

He paused, his eyes wide with shock as his mouth parted and he closed it.  

“I would never lie to you, princess.” He retaliated quickly, and had he not been the towering brute that he is, you would have thought the reaction had come from a child who was indeed caught in the act of lying.

“Then why do you try to hide something? You must surely know something about him to not be saying anything.” He knew he was horrible at hiding the truth, he was raised to always be transparent.

“I,” He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he sucked on his bottom lip, debating whether or not to continue this conversation. But one look at the pleading look that was laced all over your features and he gave in, knowing that you were desperate after so many failed attempts with the failures that had the nerve to call themselves a prince, “I’ve only heard stories, princess, and I don’t know which ones hold more truth.” He paused.

“Which is…?”

The knight sighed once more, showing more emotion than you’ve ever seen him display as he looked away, anywhere but your awaiting eyes that held so much worry and fright that it reminded him of a lamb being sent to slaughter.

“It’s merely a rumor, princess, so don’t base your judgment on him simply on my words. But,” He winced, his hard gaze breaking for a second as he breathed heavily out his nose, “I had overheard some of my men talking a while ago that he’s an arrogant prince, but,” He looked down for a second before he looked back up at you, a ghost of a smile on his face as you felt yourself ease a little bit at the strangely welcoming sight, “I doubt there has ever been a humble prince.”

You laughed softly, the sound was something that made his barely visible smile grow even more. The tension he could easily see in your shoulders lessened just a tad bit. You said nothing as you waited for him to continue.

“He’s a womanizer, or at least he tries to be,” You giggled at that too, something you were quite used to at this point, “And according to whispers, he doesn’t have the best table manners.”

You pretended to be shocked, even letting out a dramatic gasp as you covered up your mouth.

“He’s sloppy?”

“Disgustingly so, I’m afraid.”

Your smile grew even more at his words, a loud and unlikely laugh falling from your lips as even you seemed shocked at your unexpected outburst. Your fingers stopped their anxious tapping on your forearms as you felt the tension that had been prickling its way through your chest stop, the fear that you had felt these past few hours diminishing as the knight beside you chuckled deeply.

“I feared that might be the case,” You confessed to him, “Thank you, though,” You said as you looked up at him, meeting his gaze as you cracked a little grin, “You've been the first to openly tell me that.” He gave you a small nod in return, pausing as you stopped in front of the large double doors, where the prince was waiting just behind them.

You took a deep breath, feeling as though some of that dread was starting to come back.

“Must I go?” You stalled, your hands lingering above the wood of the door as you glanced over at him. In these three minutes you had been able to talk to him more than you had in the past weeks you had known him, and strangely so, he had been able to tell you more about the man you were about to meet than anybody else had in that short amount of time.

“Yes, princess.” He told you and you scoffed in pity for yourself, tracing the delicate patterns etched into the wood as he spoke again.

“Don’t fret too much about him however, he’s not as strong as he boasts he is. And… princess?” He called out, his voice a little louder so that it caught your attention before you entered the dining hall, “If anything were to happen, I am there to serve you.”

And though it was in his duty, something he was sworn in to say to you, that was the first time in your twenty years of living that you had actually felt safe. Call it guilelessness or the fake hope you held that somebody truly seemed to care, but that was the day that you acknowledged that your father, for once in his life, had made a good decision in making him your knight.

—-

It seemed that after that night (and no, Saum indeed was not the perfect match), the distance between you and Katsuki had significantly shortened. And while it was still difficult to get him to open up and talk, it seemed that the more you pressed him about random topics the more lenient he got with you.

This change was so apparent, even, that others started to notice too. You could pick up on the servants and their loud whispers whenever you and Katsuki would be walking around the hallways - him accompanying you to make sure you didn’t try to do anything outlandish - and gossiped about the way you two stood significantly closer to each other than was deemed socially appropriate.

And sure, maybe they were right in some aspects. For one, you don’t know why a part of you ignited in unknown flames when you saw him smiling the smile he only reserved for you when he talked to a maid you had never seen before, that was something that even you knew was wrong to feel. And you couldn’t forget the time, no matter how much you ached when you saw him whispering sweet nothings into the ear of another girl, his eyes falling upon yours as he quickly moved away from her, his cheeks dusted in a deep pink as he apologized profusely. You hate how you reveled in your pathetic glory when he came up to you afterward, steering you away from the scene with a hand barely apparent on your back, profusely apologizing for acting so unprofessional.

So, you let them gossip. You could have shut it down sooner, but in all honesty, you liked what they had to say. Sometimes, when they spoke of him, you couldn’t help but wonder if their words for once held any truth. Did he actually stare longingly at you whenever there was a feast, watching with fire in his eyes when a prince or nobleman tried to woo you into a conversation? No, surely not. And did he only laugh full heartedly when he was with you, a sight nobody else had the grave of seeing? No, no, of course not. Surely you couldn’t be that funny.

“‘Suki,” You said one day, the name you had now given him freely flowing off your tongue as you two walked in the rose garden, “I have a request.”

He ducked his head down, the sun making his hair almost seem like gold as he walked with his hands behind his back. This is where you thought him to be the most regal, his most beautiful state of being. The wind flowed through his hair, the strands moving east, his face not as stiff as it usually was. The royal red tunic and trousers sat comfortably on his toned skin, hugging him in a way that made you feel terrible for lusting after it as much as you did. In this carefree environment, he no longer embedded a knight, but a person who you could look up to as a friend.

“Anything for you, princess.”

You sighed in fake irritation at the title, telling him many times to just refer to you as everybody else in your inner circle did, but he always stuck to the formalities. You understood why he didn’t want to cross over any lines, but it made getting to know him better that much more difficult.

“Take me to the bazaar.”

“Ah, that, princess,” He grunted, giving you a stern and unwavering look, “I cannot do.”

“But you said anything!” You clamored, your voice still not loud to raise attention, as a pout formed on your lips as you huffed again, your arms crossing across your chest as you continued to walk. You let your left hand glide across the flowers, delicate as to not harm any of the petals.

“Princess,” He tried to bargain, handsome face pulled into a set frown as he tried to get you to look at him, “The bazaar is too perilous of risk to take. I can never plan a single thing when I have no idea who or what I’m going to endure.”

Your frown grew at his words, even though you knew what he was trying to say, and stopped at the pomegranate tree as he stopped with you, his sword thumping against his thigh as his shadow cascaded over the red fruit.

“But I’ve been there before….” You miserably muttered, hearing him let out a snort as he crossed his arms across his chest, shaking his head at the thought.

“And I don't know how you never got caught,” He admitted, trying to sound tough and rigid but a little chuckle escaped his lips, “It’s a great deal of danger if you put yourself in, princess; going there with no guards, telling nobody where you were.”

You plucked a ripe pomegranate off, holding it up in the sun as you took in its deep crimson shade, turning it around as you felt its smooth texture underneath your fingers. It was a favorite of yours, and you had requested a while ago to have a whole section of the gardens dedicated to the fruit.

You dug your thumbs into it, groaning a little as you tried to crack it open but to no avail. Wordlessly, he extended his hand out to you, a noiseless exchange as you placed the pomegranate in his hands, turning around to watch him as he snapped it open with no difficulty, no strain seen on his face as he held the two halves back out to you.

The ruby seeds glistened, and you plucked a few out, munching on them as the crunch of the seeds filled the silence.

“Tashakor,” You muttered with your mouth full of the fruit, smiling a little bit at the tart and sweet taste of them. He gave you a small nod, eyeing the fruit as your fingers became stained with the red juice of the pomegranate, walking alongside you as you carelessly ate.

“Would you like some?” You offered, holding out the half you hadn't touched yet as he quickly shook his head with târof, the complimentary way of refusing something out of politeness. You smile to yourself at his little action.

“Oh, come on, it’s good. Really good.” You obliged, holding it out further to him as you waved the half around, trying to tempt him. Although he was a man of honor and sound reason, refusing something from a royal more than once was unforeseen and rather unsophisticated. So he sighed, giving up as he gently plucked the fruit out of your hand, muttering a quiet thanks as your smile grew wider.

“Is it to your liking?” You said, your words muffled as you tried not to talk and chew at the same time.

“Extraordinarily so.” He said, chewing thoughtfully as his lips became stained red the more he ate. You tried to look away as you felt your cheeks heating up at the sight.

“So…‘Suki,” You said, your elbows purposely bumping into him as you smiled a little bit to yourself, the cool breeze of the upcoming winter biting eagerly at your skin. You swallowed a couple of seeds as you looked at him, “No bazaar?”

“No bazaar.” He repeated, though his focus was intently on getting a couple of the ruby seeds out.

“And no hunting?”

He grunted out a coarse laugh, his face looking nonchalant as he shook his head again.

“I wasn’t aware you were appreciative of the sport.” He notes, glancing over at you as you shrugged, your fingers mindlessly running across the bumpy seeds as you let out a longing sigh.

“I’m appreciative of anything that gets me out of here.” The words tumbled out of your mouth, your eyes drooping a bit as your steps became slower. The times you spent in the gardens, depressingly so, was the only excitement you seemed to have in your day.

His smile fell at your statement, watching the way you seemed to shrink in on yourself.

He was good at noticing things, it was something he took pride in. But by the time he had gotten to know you, the princess who lived the lavish life everybody told him about, only seemed to be a myth. Sure, your bed was warm and your maids ready at your beck and call, but behind the jewels and glamor of royal life, your face held a different story. Early on, he took note of the way your smile never reached your eyes. Your laugh never reached more than an octave in pitch, and you always seemed to be wary of the people around you. Everything you did seemed to be done as if walking on eggshells, and if this was the life everybody said was perfection, he didn’t see any point in wanting to live in it.

Which is why, after a couple of interactions, he felt a part of him soften when it came to you. You were thoughtful in places most people would have grown senseless. You never lost your humanity, nor your compassion when it came to both people you knew and strangers you’ve never met. He observed silently how you would talk to people, your voice laced with care as you gave them every bit of attention. He notices how you’d always save a plate full of traits for him, always managing to find where he was, no matter how dense the crowd of people was, as you delivered it to him with a smile, stating; “you looked grumpy, though this might help.”

“As much as I’d like to take you hunting over the bazaar, I doubt your father would be too fond of the idea,” Katsuki admitted solemnly and you nodded bitterly in agreement, stopping in your tracks as you continued to look forward.

You took in a deep breath, your hands clasped together as a troubled look seemed to overtake your features. He waited patiently for you to gather your thoughts, not saying anything as you gnawed on your bottom lip, seemingly going back and forth between a thousand ideas all at once.

“Katsuki…?” Your voice was faint, barely there, almost swept away by the breeze as you stopped, not saying anything else. You let the seconds tick by until you heard him let out a deep hum, the sound acknowledging that he had heard you.

There were only so many times you called him by his first name: in front of others, an intimidation tactic used to scare a potential suitor, or when you were so timid to talk that you needed to ground yourself down by conceding mainly to yourself that he was there beside you.

“What if I,” You paused again, swallowing your words as you glanced over at him, your eyes quickly fleeting away under his heavy gaze as your fingers gripped tightly onto the fabric of your skirt, the silk wrinkling under your ministrations as your lips trembled, “What would you do if I ran away?”

He could feel his stomach churn uncomfortably at your words, his brows creasing and eyes squinting in your direction as you refused to look him in the eyes. You were notorious for asking spontaneous questions, questions that had nothing to do with a conversation, but he’d be a fool if he disregarded this as just one of your usual queries.

“Then I’d come to find you, princess.” It wasn’t a warning, nor was it something he said to try and scare you. It was the bare truth and something that the two of you knew was something he’d never rest until he fulfilled it.  

“You wouldn’t help me?” You questioned, your words soft and fragile as you searched for anything in his gaze that gave away from his usual, stoic expression.

“I’m here to serve and protect you, princess, not to aid you in doing such a thing.”

Your hopeful expression fell, turning cold and void as you scoffed, hating yourself for thinking that he’d ever agree to such a thing. He was a knight before anything else, not a friend and most certainly not a caring companion. Gods, you were so foolish to think that he’d even entertain the idea. Why would he? Everything he’s been put to do was to go against that very idea. No matter how much he may have cared about you as a person didn’t expel him from allowing you to do that.

No matter how much you pretended that underneath all his cold exterior was a person who cared, you knew that deep down, he was a man of honor and of valor. And caring for people beyond necessity was something he wasn’t made to do.

And, to a high degree, you knew you were being petty. Maybe even obnoxious as you stormed off. But was it so wishful to hope that you had finally made a friend? Someone who you could trust enough to help you escape a life you wished you had never been into? Maybe so, but you were always the dreamer and you never knew when to stop.

“Right, right,” You mumbled, shaking your head as you hurried away, hearing his footsteps behind you as he tried to match your pace, “Stupid, stupid, why would he? Of course not,” You said to yourself, throwing the empty pomegranate shell on the soil as you turned over to look at him, putting on a fake smile that both of you knew was empty as you told him; “Please don’t mention what I told you to anybody else. And…please don’t come after me. I pray you have enough confidence in me to know that I’d be able to find the way to my room by myself.”

“But princess-” He started but you shook your head, already turning around as you scoff angrily to yourself, more in annoyance than anything else,

“If only he didn’t steer a ship on top of everything else he could do - then I’d sail my way out of this miserable place.”

—-

Late when the months turned frigid and white littered the ground, you decided that with help or no help, you were going to leave. You didn’t know if you wanted to go north or south, where was the most suitable option for you, all you knew was that you needed out.

It stung a part of you, a part that you didn’t want to admit was there, at his blatant rejection of your proposal. You had hoped that some part of him was open to the idea, that maybe after seeing what the real treatment was like behind these palace walls he’d bend a little bit more to your wishful thinking, but you knew that being hung up on the idea would only hinder you more.

You decided early on in your plan that there was only one night you could do it, shab-e yaldā,  the night of the winter solstice. It was extraordinarily risky, you knew that. The palace was going to be swarming with guests, all celebrating the longest night of the year, but you knew that this prolonged night of darkness would be the only one that would hide you enough from the prying eyes of the outside world longer than any other night could.  

Weeks leading up to your makeshift plan, you began to take things you decided you would need in your journey. Cold clothes that would protect you against the harsh winters the north held, gold coins that were acceptable anywhere, and food that wasn’t perishable in a few weeks' time. You stuffed them all in a saddle bag you had managed to find in the stable once, one that was large enough to hold all of the things you needed, and did well in hiding it whenever Roya or Laleh came into your room.

You tried to distance yourself from Katsuki as much as possible, only speaking to him when necessary, avoiding any attempts he made at conversation with a curt Sorry, I’m late to my meeting with the prince, or some other pathetic lie to steer away from him. You knew deep down that what you were doing was unfair to him, after all, he was only proving to do his job, but you couldn’t help that vine of anger tangle around your heart and mind until it told you directly what to do.

He seemed to get the memorandum after some time, no longer attempting to make jokes to bring a smile to your face, and not letting his hand linger on your back or arm whenever he tried to steer you towards or away from something. And you were fine with that, more than fine, it was only going to sting less when you left, knowing you’d most likely never be able to see him again. You’d take the hurt now rather than have it wrangle your mind for years to come.

So, when the longest night of winter came, you were ready for any and all problems that were going to come your way.

You let Laleh and Roya do your makeup and get you prepared as they usually would, not wanting to startle them and say you’d do it yourself. You had mapped out what hallways and exits to take, and places that had the least amount of people and guards. You had written a note that you’d be putting on your bed, explaining what you had done in brief detail and that if they were to send anybody, they’d never be able to find you (in hindsight).

You told the two girls to leave, that you had a couple of things you needed to finish before you came down. You made them promise you that they’d tell Katsuki not to lead you to the dining hall, that you’d be wanting to walk unaccompanied. If they had any questions, they didn’t voice them.

The music was already beginning to drift upwards to your room, the loud shouts and laughter from visitors all over the land creating an ambiance that you knew you were going to miss. But you shook your head at the thought, not wanting to go off track when you were so close to freedom.

You quickly got out of the dress they had so carefully put you into, hanging it up as you scrub at your face with water, taking any remnants of makeup off as you tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. Your mind wandered off, without you knowing it, to the first time you had unknowingly met Katsuki and what he had told you. How he had so expertly pointed out your gold bracelet and had been able to set you apart from everybody else in the bazaar. So you did well in taking any and all of your jewelry off, shedding anything that had to do with your royal title, and leaving them off at your nightstand.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, your bag was packed to the brim, and you had found a robe and shawl that did an excellent job of hiding your face. You glanced one last time at your room, the only place you really knew, and felt like it was now or never. So with your hand on the doorknob turning it down and getting ready to leave, you did so with a determined look on your face.

That was until you realized that your knight was there waiting for you.

The air seemed to pause as the two of you stared at each other. The only thing you could hear was the rapidness in which you breathed, how you felt like everything was slowly falling down on you as you felt the tears slowly making their way to your eyes.

The two of you paused, your heart falling straight to the ground, melting into the cold stone as your eyes widened. Katsuki tried to hide the look of confusion on his face, noting your strange attire and the bag on your back as he swallowed, his eyes squinting in confusion as he tilted his head to the side. Curse him, you thought to yourself, curse him and his loyalty, curse him for looking the way he did, his soft lips pulled into a worried frown, his eyes holding onto yours as if he couldn’t let go, curse him for caring the way that he did.

“Where are you…?” He trailed off, his red eyes widening as, just like always, he began to quickly put the pieces together.

You knew you could have run, the was an opening between the two of you, but you also knew it was stupid because he could have easily caught you in a matter of seconds. So instead of bolting, which is what you so desperately wanted to do, you fell back into your room, your hands shaking as your knees gave out from behind you, your back hitting the wall as you sunk all the way down to the floor, cradling your knees into your chest as you wept.

The door was quickly shut and you heard the typical thump of his footsteps, but you didn’t have the energy to look up to see the irate and aggrieved look on his familiar face.

“Please, princess, don’t cry,” You heard a muted thud as he fell to his knees in front of you, his voice laced with clear, unrivaled panic as he tried to figure out what was wrong, why you looked so defeated, a sight unlike anything he had ever seen before, “Please, Y/n, tell me what I’ve done wrong - what can I do to help?”

And you don’t know what it was if it had been his words or the way you had missed him so terribly that made you cry even more, your tears running rampant you hid your face in the crook of your elbow to save the last shred of dignity you had.

He had to have known by now; the empty feel of your room, the packed bag on your bag, the dirty robe you were wearing. He knew, but he didn’t mention it. He let his hands waver above your elbows, fearing that if he set them down you’d crack, even more, not wanting to do anything to hurt you as he tried to coax you to just look at him.

“Come on Y/n, please, look up, tell me what I need to do.” He begged, his voice was unlike anything you had ever heard from him before.

You need to let me leave, you wanted to plead, please let me go and never mention it to anybody else.

Slowly, you felt the warmth of his hand grip your elbow, gradually moving up as his fingers tried to find your face, wet with tears, as he gingerly cupped your cheeks, pulling you upwards so that he could finally see you again.

You obliged, knowing you couldn’t fight him for long, especially in your state, and you were met with his gentle smile, the one that always made you melt at the sight. Right now, you just sniffle, your eyes red, maybe even redder than his as you cried.

“Hi sweetheart,” He whispered, his thumb running across your cheek, catching a cheer as he cradled the back of your head, gentle in his movements as he tried to rearrange his sitting in a more comfortable position, “Please…please don’t cry,” His eyes followed the tears tracks burned into your skin, “Tell me how I can help, what do I need to do to make it better?”

You scoffed, a wet and emotionless laugh bubbling out of your throat as you wiped away at your nose, looking to the side to avoid his searing gaze. It was treacherous in trying to avoid him for as long as you had, and you knew that if you were to give in to how you truly felt, you couldn’t push him away any longer. And you knew that by doing so you were only digging a deeper hole for yourself.

“Y/n,” Your name sounded so sweet on his tongue, so fragile and delicate, unlike anybody had said it ever before, “Aziz, please, look at me.”

And you looked back up at him from underneath your lashes, your lips trembling as you tried your best to hold back sobs, little hiccups escaping your lips as his thumb ran up and down your cheek, cradling your jaw with the most care in the world. As if you were a shooting star and he never wanted to let you go again.

“I want to g-go,” You choked out the words, fresh tears sporting from your eyes as you motioned your head to the window behind him, the moon peeking out from the caliginosity night, “I want to leave.”

He nodded, heaving out a heavy sigh because he knew that was what you were going to say.

“I know azizam, I know,” He was going to say something else but he stopped, pausing as he carefully cradled your head in his large palm, “I know you do.” He whispered out into the dark room, another faint cry escaping your lips as you nodded along with him.

“Katsuki,” You muttered, and he sat up straighter, his heart beating so incredibly fast in the limited space of his ribcage that he felt as though it was going to fall out at the small mention of the nickname you had given him so many moons ago, “‘Suki…please let me leave.”

He looked away, his eyes downcast as you followed his every movement.

“I wish it was as easy as you make it out to be.”

You nodded again, trying not to look pathetic as another tear rolled down your cheek. If only you knew how much his heart ached at the sight, if only you knew how he’d lasso the moon if it meant bringing a smile back up on your face.

“I know.” You whispered, your voice cracking as you let your cheek fall down onto your arms, trying not to make another sound as you cried.

He didn’t know what to say or do, because deep now he knew that the only thing that would make you happy in this world was to let you leave, to let you live a life not controlled by others who only pretended to care. So he did the next thing he thought was best, digging out something from his pocket as he balanced himself on his ankles, holding it up to the dim light of the candles so you could see it better.

“Here,” He muttered quietly, placing the bracelet back down on your hands, “I saw it at the bazaar this morning and I thought you’d like it.”

You whimpered at his words, looking down at the bracelet to find little rubies, the color of the pomegranate seeds you adored so much, carefully placed alongside other precious jewels, the shine of the gold, and the feel of it heavy in your hands. You looked back up at him, your eyes wide and shimmering as he stammered to explain himself.

How was his compassion so immeasurable? How could he act as if the cruel distance you had put between the two of you was fake (because it was), but who could he move past it? Was it the hardened exterior from years of war that did it to him? Or was he a dreamer, like you, who imagined things a different way than they actually were?

“I can’t just let you leave, it’s a dangerous and cruel world, and even more dangerous for someone who doesn’t know how to navigate it. But if you’d like, tell me the things you want to see, the things you’d want to do. I can go to the bazaar to get you jewelry or fabrics, or I can go to Shiraz to get you their oranges and to Tehran to get their anar…” pomegranates, “Anything you want and I’d get it for you.”

A small smile made its way onto your face at his insistent rambling, the way he held you as if you were going to fly away from his hands.

“Thank you,” You sniffled again, breathing a little lighter as you glanced at him, “It’s gorgeous. B-but you know that I can’t take this Katsuki, it’d be rude of me to do so. It must have cost you a fortune…” You tried to shove it back into his chest but he pushed it forward to you, shaking his head as he refused to take it.

“For you, I’d give you the moon and stars if it meant making you happy.” He promised sincerely, a tilt in his lips as flicked the last tear away from your face, his thumbs soft, unlikely for somebody of his stature, his words sitting heavily in the vast expanse of your heart. How could he say something like that and not feel anything? Did he know what he was doing to you?

If only he could hear the pitter patter rhythm in your heart, the way it thumped at the rhythm of his words and the way he spoke. Maybe then he’d be more gentle with your fragile self, sugar coat his words so they wouldn’t be so blatant to somebody who dreams for a living.

But you were a foolish person, always had been. You never controlled your actions, always leaving them to be rushed and uncaring of how they affected others. And you never watched what you said, speaking whatever was on your mind at any time you deemed it to be necessary. You wanted to guess that was the reason that let you to blurting out,

“Kiss me then.”

Even you seemed startled as the words tumbled out of your mouth.

“I-I’m so, so, sorry. J-just...I didn’t say that, okay?” You say hurriedly, trying to cover up the mess of words you had just said but there was no point in doing it. No amount of training nor sheer will could have hidden the shock that enveloped the young knight's face as he stared at you, slack-jawed.

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looked up, not knowing what to do for the first time in his life as his fists clenched. Millions of thoughts were running through his head, everything he thought he knew was being turned upside down, and he didn’t know if he was living in his best dream or his worst nightmare.

“Katsuki...?”

There was a long pause, a heavy silence sitting between the two of you as he shut his eyes as tightly as he could.

“Yes?” He bit out, and you shielded him from his fierce tone. His eyes snapped over to you and the way your expression fell and he loathed himself even more for raising his voice when you were already in such a fragile state.

He wanted to, you had no idea how much he wanted to take you here right now with no consequences. But he was a smart man, who put his brains before anything else.

How would the world react had they found out a knight, one with as much valor as he has, touched their prized princess in such a sinful way? Ruined her lips with his, made it so that the only man she wanted was him? You both knew that it was a matter of feelings because they were surely there. They'd been there ever since he guided you out of the bazaar, but an unfortunate matter of logistics. Who was to say these feelings wouldn't grow, because they would, you knew they would. All you wanted was to have him to yourself, Katsuki, only yours. And you, his to keep away from the world, the touch, and explore without any restraints. If he wanted to, he would. But it was a matter of shouldn't and couldn't.

"Katsuki...please don't be mad, I-"

But before you could finish your train of thought, you watched as he moved forward, his lips hovering breaths above yours, your noses pressed against each other as you stared at each other, each eye fleeting down to each other’s lips as you felt like your tears were quickly evaporating in the heat of the room. His hand was cradling your jaw, tilting your face upwards to meet his as a silent war seemed to rage behind his eyes.

Pomegranate seeds you used to say as you teased him those summer days, pointing out that his eyes held an uncanny resemblance. But here they looked like they were on fire, burning within as he searched yours, trying to figure out what was going on inside your enigma of a head.

You felt as though the air was stopping its flow from your lungs and out, your mind was working at a snail's pace as you tried to understand what was happening. You hated how your heart could change emotions so suddenly, you hated how even you didn’t understand what sort of riddle you could be at the time.

“Did you mean it?”

You breathed. One second passed and then another. Had the world stopped spinning? It felt like it. Nothing else could explain the rush you felt inside yourself as you slowly nodded, moving a little closer to him as your lips barely brushed past each other.

“Yes.”

He did as you asked, closing the pathetic gap between the two of you, his hand behind your neck guiding you upwards as you pressed your lips onto his.

It felt right. Like two lost parts of a separated soul had been reconnected once more.

And you knew that it should have felt like this.

After months of wondering what he’d taste like, how gentle he’d be, it just felt right. He was swift in his movements, his tongue lapping at your lips, groaning at the taste of them, the pomegranates you had earlier in the day still lingering as he tasted the salt of your tears and the tanginess of the pomegranate seeds on you.

He was careful not to pressure you, not forcing you but rather guiding you as he could tell you were inexperienced, his lips slowing down to the pace you set. Katsuki felt as though he was about to die right here, and if he did, he’d die a happy man.

You clutched desperately at his tunic, the fabric wrinkling under your tight grip as you push yourself upwards, to him, a surprised grunt escaping his chest as you wind your arms around his neck, breaking away from him as you tried to gasp for air.

“Katsuki,” You muttered, your lips brushing against his as you were thankful for his arm circling around your back for keeping you afloat, “Please - please don’t stop.”

He smiled that boyish smile that you always died for as he pecked your lips and then your cheek, shaking his head as his breath fanned against your lips.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” He circled his arms underneath your thighs, and in one swift move heaved you up, your legs mindlessly wrapping around his back as he led you toward the bed, “God’s…you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” And you shook your head, feeling him chuckle as he gently let you go, your back falling onto the soft silk sheets you were so used to as he caged you in with his sturdy arms.

“I do things to you?” You teased, your voice still wavering but better than before as he let out a little laugh in your neck, swooping down as he placed hot kisses all along your collarbone and underneath your jaw, the smug smile on your lips falling as you let out a let gasp as he nipped at your supple skin.

“You drive me insane nearly every hour of the day; I can’t spend a day without thinking about you. Had I known better, I would have accused you of witchcraft.” He mumbled hotly against the skin of your chest, his hands roaming upwards and underneath your cloak as he quickly made do at untying the knots behind your back, slipping it off with all the ease of the world.

“And if I were a witch? A haggard and wrinkle-ridden woman, then what would you do?” You were trying to keep yourself at bay, to not lose sight of your sanity as his teeth bit your soft skin, lifting your hips upwards as he slipped the skirt off of your legs, throwing it somewhere in the room, not caring where it landed as he looked back at you.

“You’d still do the things you do to me, Y/n,” He kissed your lips sweetly as his hands found purchase on your waist, “There’s nothing in this world that could change the way I feel about you.”

You could only muster a single breath, your brows scrunching up with care as your hand traveled up the expanse of his back, holding onto his cheek with all the love you had as you gave him a wet and watery grin.

“And what is that?”

He rolled his eyes, his finger gently poking at your side as a giggle bubbled out of you. The small sound of your laughter was enough to bring a wide grin to his face, his lips stretching up into his cheeks as he watched life seep back into your eyes.

“If only you knew how much I loved you,” He muttered, kissing the corners of your eyes, your smile lines, and your delicate lips as he rubbed his nose against yours, “Maybe then you’d know how much it pains me to see you so hurt.”

You pout, your fingers trudging through his hair as you twirl a blonde lock over and over, not noticing the way he practically melted into your touch.

“I don’t do it intentionally, I hope you know.” You mutter and he chuckles, shaking his head as if to agree with you.

“I know, I know,” His hands trickled upwards and upwards, nearing untouched territory as you gasped at the new sensation, not trying to cover up the little moan that slipped between your lips the moment his thumb gilded across your sensitive nipple, “But it doesn’t mean I don’t like - fuck,” He whispered into your skin, almost not believing it himself as his hands gilded across your breasts, “You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” And you could only nod, not trusting your words as he continued his ministrations.

He dipped one hand back down, hooking it under the fabric of your tunic as he pushed it upwards, your hands voluntarily sliding out as the cold winter air bit angrily at your bare, heated skin.

You wanted to cover up, your hands going to travel to hide your barren chest, something only you and your handmaidens had seen before, but his hands circled your wrist, tugging them down, slow to do it in case you were opposed to it. But you let him do it because deep down the two of you wanted this more than anything in the world.

“Beautiful,” He muttered to himself, almost as if the words just tumbled out, looking up at you with those pomegranate eyes almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing,  “You’re so beautiful Y/n.”

Your eyes wrangled shut, the heat traveling up into your cheeks, and you couldn’t watch without feeling your entire body ignite at the way he brought his face down towards your naked breasts, his hot breathing hitting your cold skin.

Nothing could have prepared you for when his hot tongue pressed flat against your right nipple, his finger working away at the other one, tugging and pulling as he sucked feverishly as if his life depended on it. You couldn’t help the loud moans that escaped, the way you tried to cover up your eyes in embarrassment but didn’t when he stopped, looking down at him as he sent a rather harsh bite to the skin around your breast.

“Don’t cover yourself up, wanna see what you look like when you finally let go.”

And he didn’t let you take in his words as he went back down, working on the other one, making a mess out of it as his spit shined in the pale moonlight. It was maddening the way he kissed and tugged at your nipples, sucking on them, the sound so lewd that you felt like you were burning alive.

He let his curious hands wander down, rubbing up and down your legs, behind your knees, and back up to your thighs, gingerly pinching and prodding at the skin as he tried to mark every freckle, dimple, every little scar you had to memory. You were a work of art, and he refused to let any part of you go unappreciated.

He pulled away, a string of spit connecting itself from your nipple to his red lips as he grinned up at you, an unrivaled fire in his eyes as he moved down, practically melting at the sight of your naked body.

“F-fuck, are you okay if I have a taste, please,” His nose rubbed against the top of your mound, dangerously close to the place where you were warned to never touch, someplace that was meant to be only for your husband. But you didn’t care, not when it came to Katsuki, and you feverishly nodded for him to continue.

“Need to hear you say it,” He muttered, pressing a sweet kiss to your inner thigh as he nudged his nose into your soft skin, “Come on, you can do it.”

“P-please, ‘Suki, please touch me, shit, do whatever you want I d-dont care.” You begged, your fingers pushing his head closer to your wet entrance, and he didn’t need to be told twice as he flashed you a charming smile, his face disappearing as suddenly felt your eyes cross at the sensation.

Gods help you because you had no idea how you were ever going to have been prepared for the way his tongue pushed at your walls, licking away at your juices as he groaned deeply, his eyes screwing shut as your saccharine taste, something that he couldn’t get enough of as he lapped your wetness up with even more fervor.

“O-oh fuck! ‘S-suki, please, please don’t stop!” You whined out loud, hoping with every fiber of your being that the party was loud enough to cover up your wails and moans because you knew you couldn’t keep quiet with the way his hot tongue was making its way inside you. Mapping it all out, putting it into memory which places made you scream the loudest, what part of you to prod at more to get the sweetest sounding moans.

His thumb moved upwards to find your little nub, pinching it between his two fingers as he rolled it back and forth. You nearly collapsed the moment he touched your clit, and he had to use his other hand to widen your thighs because you could barely hold yourself up anymore.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” He groaned into your pussy, licking one long strip as you felt yourself clench around nothing, “Sweeter than anything I’ve ever tasted. Shit,” He moaned pathetically at the way you cried for him, “Don’t think I’m ever going to be able to let you go.”

“Don’t, please, please don’t stop!” You begged for him, and his thumb moved faster, your hands pushing his head deeper into you as his nose bumped against your clit, the added sensation pushing you deeper and deeper into something you had never felt before.

It all happened so quickly, the way your stomach clenched, your walls tightening around his fingers and tongue as your back arched, your mouth open in a shameless moan as you came all over him, your chest heaving up and down in an uneven motion as you tried to calm yourself down, only able to see white as you came down from your blissful high.

When you opened your eyes back up you came to see your Katsuki smiling fondly, making haste at taking his attire off, the thick line prominent in his slacks now in front of you, and you felt your mouth dry at the sight.

“How’d that feel?” He asked, his hand coming down to prop up your head, his chin glistening with your release as you give him a mindless smile. Your eyes were relaxed and happy, and if only he could commit this to his memory, he’d never let the image go.

“Good,” You muttered into the palm of his hand, turning your head over to the side so you could kiss it, “Really good.” You giggled a bit at the way he grinned happily, no longer looking like the stern knight he always was but a simple man in love.

“Yeah?” He asked and you nodded, his thumb rubbing up and down your cheek as he pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

“Are you tired, d’you want me to stop?” He asked, his eyes tracing your features, not wanting to push you when he knew this was your first time experiencing all these things. If he could, he’d take the time to show you everything he knew. But on the longest night of the year, he’d be apt with stopping right where he was.

“No, no,” You groaned, your lips forming into a small pout as you pushed at his chest, wanting him to get the hint, “Don’t stop.”

He laughed, the sound deep and rich as you smiled along with it, nodding along to your words.

“Whatever you want, princess.” And for the first time, you loved the way your title sounded on his tongue.

As he got himself ready, you took the time to admire his bare body. The way his chest flexed every time he moved, the muscle delicately outlined with the help of the moon and her stars, looking as if he was chiseled from marble. You knew that no other man in your land could look like him, be him. There was only one Bakugo Katsuki, and you were more than thrilled to have him right in front of you.

You let your nails drag along his thighs, noting the little shiver he let out when your finger dragged up to his hip, tracing his v-line and the muscle of his abs, your cold fingers a stark contrast from his stark skin, but he’d be a madman if he told you to stop.

“So pretty ‘Suki,” You muttered, almost as if you were talking to yourself, not even noticing the way his cheeks flushed at your simple compliment.

But your eyes wandered down lower, and you’d be blind if you were to miss the way his cock had sprung against his stomach, his tip red and angry, dripping with pre as it was practically begging to be touched.

You didn’t know much, only heard from the other girls and their experiences, so you aimlessly brought your hand down, lower and lower till it stopped at the vein that traveled upwards. You traced it all the way up to his tip, hearing him shudder and let out little whines at the way your fingers held him. You followed the natural curve, wondering silently to yourself how he was ever going to fit inside you as you gave him an experimental squeeze. He watched the curious look in your eyes as you watched how he reacted, the way he twitched and the muscle in his thigh almost spasmed as you moved your hand leisurely up and down.

“F-fuck, you’re,” He heaved, running a hand through his hair, his jaw ticking as you looked up at him, your fist stopping just at his head as he swallowed thickly, “You’re killing me, can’t,” He heaved a groan as you squeezed a little, a cheshire grin growing on your face as he tried to glare at you but failed miserably when you squeezed his tip again, smearing pre cum all of the palm of your hand, “Shit, it feels amazing azizam.” He muttered, his head falling into the crook of your neck as you paused your movements.

“Why…why’d you stop?” He whined and you patted his hair, his gold locks as you giggled a little bit at the desperation in his voice. He was such a far cry from how you were used to seeing him, but you kissed his ear, moving his chin up as you pressed another kiss to his lips.

“‘Cause… I want you - want you to fuck me,” You said against his tender skin, your cheek heating up but you didn’t care about being proper anymore, “Can you please do that ‘Suki? Please?”

Ad he almost collapsed on top of you but controlled himself as he swooped down, pressing a messy kiss to your swollen lips as you tasted your tangy self on him, moaning at it as he grinded his hard-on into your stomach.

“F-fuck, of course,” He murmured against you, “You know I’d do anything for you, Y/n. Didn’t even need to ask.”

You grinned at his words, watching as he pulled away, balancing himself on the pads of his knees as he looked down at you, a loving and tender look in his eyes as he winked, his strong frame, something that once used to intimidate you, casting a shadow over your body.

You watched with your heart beating in your throat as you parted your thighs for him, still wet from your previous orgasm, as he lined himself up with your entrance, his thick head prodding at your walls as he looked up at you, a final look, a final say in wanting to make sure you were okay.

The smile you gave him was wide, full of every emotion you tried to convey to him as you nodded, your eyes shutting in pure bliss as he gently pushed himself in, the sting of your tight cunt trying to take shape for him was something you were going to get used to, but after he let you get adjusted to his girth you patted his thigh, telling him that you were ready for him to move.

And gods, when he did you could have sworn you were going to pass out. You could tell he was trying to be as slow and as gentle as possible, but with the way he was chewing on his lips, his brows creasing as he tried to focus and being slow with you, you knew that he too was slowly going crazy.

“‘Suki, please,” You moaned when his dick hit a certain spot inside you, your eyes crossing over as you gripped onto his arm as tightly as you could, “Go faster. P-please, fuck!” He could only grunt, holding onto your hips as carefully as he could without hurting you, and he felt like he was slowly entering heaven because there was no way this was anything but that.

“R-really? Are you sure? Don’t - fuck - don’t want to hurt you…?” He said, his tone laced with worry and desire as you shook your head, begging, pleading for him to go faster.

And he obliged, picking up the pace as his cock plunged in and out of you, the sounds full of sin as your juices mixed with his, a sloppy and wet sound bouncing around the room as the two of you moaned in tandem at the blasphemous yet deliriously amazing feeling.  

You tried to open your eyes, crack them for long enough to see him focusing on the way your cunt hugged his cock tightly, the way you didn’t seem to want to let him go as your juices shined brightly on his dick. The feeling was unlike anything he’d experienced before, and he knew that he could no longer pretend and shove his feelings down when it came to you. It was all thrown out the window when you first asked him to kiss you, and now, after this, he’d probably go insane if you asked him to pretend like it never happened.

“Mhh, f-fuck, feels so good, don’t, don’t stop ‘Suki, love it so much!” You cried, and maybe you were just saying random words at this point, but like a fool in love, he clung to all of them.

“I know, fuck, you’re so tight, you’re clamping down on me so much,” He groaned, sputtering through the words as he pistoned his hips and out of you, the bed creaking and swaying heavily with his rapid motions. He prayed to every and any god there was out there that it didn’t crack during this.

“S-shit, Y/n,” He felt his release quickly coming, and he knew it was going to come anytime with the way you gripped onto him, your hot walls not seeming to let him go as his face contracted, “M’gonna, fuck, gonna cum.”

“M-me too, gonna c-cum, ‘Suki, fuck!” You said, your voice airy as you tried to lift your hips up to meet his movement, that knot in your stomach growing tighter than it had last time, your thighs cramping and toes curling as you wrapped your hands around his toned shoulders.

He grunted at the feeling, his dick pulsating inside you as you tried to hold on for a little longer, your back arching, your breasts pressing into his chest as he groaned at the feeling, kissing and licking at your neck as he bit down at the point where your neck met your collarbone.

He stopped when he felt it coming, pulling out of you as his heavy load sprayed all over your chests, your own scream of pleasure mirroring his as you climaxed, your pussy aching without him inside you as you collapsed, your face lined with sweat and arousal as your chest heaved up and down with heavy breaths.

He panted, wiping at his forehead as he looked at you, his heart warming at the intimate sight. He had no idea how he was ever going to recover from this, how he’d come up with a plausible lie for why he was suddenly putting down his knightly duties to no longer serve you.

But right now he couldn’t let those thoughts ache his mind as he climbed off of the bed, his whole body spent as you cracked open an eye, fearful that he had quickly regained his senses and was trying to find the easiest way out.

Even now you tried your best to get your mind straight, but it was impossible when he looked so gorgeous, the pale moonlight washing over his features as the muscle in his back rippled with his every movement.

“‘Suki…where,” You pulled yourself up on your elbows, your chest a beautiful sight as he looked back at you, “Where’re you going?”

He paced back, hearing the worry in your voice as you gently cupped your cheeks, kissing all of the concerns out of your face as he gently rubbed at your worry lines, promising to himself that he’d never let you trouble yourself again if he had the power.

“Getting you a washcloth, I’ll be back, I promise.” He pecked at the corner of your lips as you smiled, nodding as you fell back into the bed, your fingers feeling at the soft sheets as you looked out of the window, hearing some rustling in the back as you tried to calm your heart rate down.

He came back with a cloth warmed with some water, gently dragging it all over your body as you winced, hearing his soothing apologies as he tried to be softer with your sore areas. It was an intimate sight, and you hoped that you weren’t the only one out of the two who felt this way.

His eyes were careful as they tracked all over, careful as to not miss a spot, and then went back to get another towel, this time for your face as he cleaned all the sweat and spit off, not missing the way you held his wrist and pressed an appreciative kiss to his palm your eyes drooping from sleep as you let him pull you into some more comfortable robes, pulling the sheets over your body so that you wouldn’t shiver in the night.

That’s when you let the exhaustion and sleep take over your body, drifting off into a dreamless slumber as you hoped that the warmness that was radiating next to you could only have but one explanation for it.

—

When you woke up, you squinted as the sun shined brightly in your eyes, holding your hand up to hide the rays. You felt sore and the place between your thighs ached, but you had never gotten a sleep as good as the one you had gotten last night.

Looking over, you let out a sigh of relief to see Katsuki next to you, sleeping away peacefully as his cheeks were squished in from the pillow.

Laughing quietly you ease yourself back down, pulling the blanket over your two bodies as you laid your hand across his shoulders, playing with the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck, twirling it around mindlessly as you wondered to yourself just what you were going to do.

Before you could think for long, you felt him shift beneath your fingers, and watched as he cracked an eye open, and then another one, slowly coming to his senses when a big, wide, goofy grin spread across his cheeks to see you there laying in front of him.

“Good morning,” You muttered, your thumb moving across his forehead, tracing his delicate yet war-ridden features with all the care in the world.

“Mornin’,” He said, the gruffness in his voice making you shiver as his hands circled around your wrist, bringing your hands to his lips as he placed a delicate kiss on the back of them.

The two of you let the silence sit between your bodies, mapping a dimple and a scar on each other's face, things you’ve ever noticed before because you’ve never been in such a position to take notice of such things.

But soon the heavy question came back, and you could only let it sit for so long before somebody brought it up.

“I’ve been wondering,” Katsuki started, weaving his hand underneath your naked body so that he could tug it closer to himself, smiling to himself as you let out a shocked squeal at the way he so effortlessly was able to move you, “If your offer’s still up?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you let your palm rest on his chest, drawing to be neared to his warmth as you rested your cheek against his bicep.

“What offer?”

He played with your hair, grunting as he looked down at you for really forgetting the words you told him so many months ago.

“The one where I helped you run away.”

You paused, your breath catching in your throat as you looked up at him, wondering where he was going with this.

“I recall something like that...” You said slowly, not wanting to ruin anything when things seemed to be going relatively alright. But he traced little patterns on your back, the action soothing as he flattened his palm across your shoulder blades.

“Well, I reckon you’ll run away either way. If not last night, then another night,” He looked down at you, a promise in his eyes that you knew he would intend to keep to his very death, “And you’re going to need somebody who knows Persia like the back of their hands.

"But...Katsuki," You frowned, moving some of the hair away from his face as he brought your palms to his lips, watching you as you tried to formulate your thoughts. There was no point in lying to him when he could read you so easily, "I don't want you to leave here. You have a life here, people who need you." You needed him, but you didn't want to seem any more desperate than you already were to him.

Regardless, he shook his head, his hand moving over your waist as his fingers marked all the placed he kissed last night.

"You," He kissed your forehead, smiling into your skin as you giggled at the ticklish sensation, "Are my life. What do you not get about that?" You heated under his words, trying to hide your face in his arms.

“And regardless of if I come with you or not, you’re going to be taking a part of me that only you have, so..." He shrugged as if he wasn't saying the most amazing words he could have ever said, "I'll be coming with you."

The smile you gave him could radiate universes to come, it made the stars jealous in your wake, and the sun wondered how something could look so bright, how it was humanly possible.

“Really? You promise?”

He nodded, kissing your forehead as he held you close to his chest, his arms protectively trying to shield you from the troubles of the world.

“F'course, my love," He kissed you one last time as the sun began to rise from the east, "I’d never lie to you.”

---

[thewisaaaaad]

HEY I JUST HAD AN IDEA!

since I cannot find the motivation or drive to DRAW my ref sheet, I can just describe them in minute detail!

SO Hypnos. this will be split into 4 ish parts because there are 4 major states to them!

Pre life, they are a ghostly sheep with pure white wool but black fur (the short hair beneath the wool, around the face and arms.). They have two short horns, the left one broken halfway up, and Their eyes are pure white. They wear the fleece of the crusader, and have the classic bell, with light brown pants that are held up with a cord belt. they are not affected by gravity, and cannot touch anything (exept in ONE specific circumstance.). they are unaffected by the red moon.

After being forced into a body, they look much the same color-wise, except that now their wool is perpetually dirty. Their left horn remains broken. Their eyes now have pupils, but are mismatched due to the right one being replaced with Leshies eye. that eye also has no eyelid, as Shamura didn't bother. (a worms eye doesn't need an eyelid because it has a protective membrane, but Hypnos now needs to rub at their eye sometimes.) Their ears are now blue, in tatters, and constantly wet due to belonging to a certain squid (the ears can no longer wriggle to express emotion, and it hurts when they feel happy.). They do not speak in their own voice, due to having Hekets throat, but they undergo voice training to try to sound like themselves again. they still croak sometimes. The biggest change, however, is their head shape. No longer shaped like a wedge, like it once was, it is now rounded, with skin having been clumsily removed from their face so that it matched the new curvature. Having Shamuras skull means that they now have a vestigial nose, as spiders do not have one, as well as divots behind their eyes where extra eyes could fit. they also have fangs. They wear the red crown, but its eye does not open, and forms no weapons for them as it tries to maintain their body. they are constantly on the verge of falling apart, Held together by purple thread in messy stiches. their stability (and stitches) greatly improve after Kalamar's care. They wear a heavy iron collar sealed with a golden diamond shaped lock, only open-able by the god of war. their cloak is a tattered, worn version they wore while incorporeal. It is infused with the same magic that binds Hypnos to the world of the living, pulling fervor out of the air and giving the lamb a means to fight. Their magic, shaped by their torment, comes in the form of lightning.

After their rebirth through the cream crown, their stitched together wounds finally heal, though the relics remain embedded in their flesh. The purple thread is gone, leaving only scars. Their wool seems cleaner, and their eyes shine brighter. They no longer wear the red crown, and instead wear the cream crown: a crown with a sideways cream colored eye (and i do mean sideways, even the pupil), the crown itself the shape of a miter hat (a bishops hat, the one that followers use at refineries). Their ruined cloak has transformed into a beautiful wool one that resembles a sunset or perhaps a sunrise on a clear day, retaining some of the powers of its previous form but now works a little differently (if they stand still and 'take a rest', their fervor charges really fast). The shackle on their neck has loosened, not quite free yet, and the lock was warped by the surge of power from an awakening god into a softer shape, resembling a cloud now.

After they have achieved redemption, they have grown into a full god. The relics are truly part of them now, and they have accepted this body as their own. Leshies eye has grown an eyelid made of moss, Kalamars ears now properly wiggle, Hekets voice is full of power, and now flowers sprout from the wool on Hypnos's head. They are much taller now, and their intact horn has grown into a rams horn, while their broken horn has spiraled upward, still broken halfway up. They now wear a cloak embroidered with the patterns of the old faith, but it is dyed to resemble the sun on the horison, with stars still twinkling above. Their wool is now lightly cream tinted at the edges, looking like a soft cloud.

They no longer wear the lock.

[sharoo]

Scouting the Cult p.2

"Are you Briar?"

The vixen flinched, standing up abruptly and turning around. She looked moved her sun hat up to see who is speaking to her.

Behind her, at the edge of the pumpkin patch where the tree roots and shrubs denoted the border between the tamed ground and the wilderness, stood a blackbird in a cloak the colours of autumn leaves.

"Who are you?" Briar asked, holding a basket of seeds in front of her for protection. The sword on the stranger's back gleamed; its polished iron edge made her back tingle with unpleasant familiarity.

Perceptive of people's fears, Camio took a few steps back, removing the sword to lay at his feet. After that, his orange eyes met hers as he greeted her with a polite bows of the head. "My name is Camio. I apologise for frightening you, I mean no one harm. Harming those who have not harmed you is spilling pointless blood." A blade galvanised in such material is a vicious thing.

"I'm glad to hear that, but why are you here?" he was not wearing the garb of Narinder's follower, which means he must have been an outsider. And of those, she was quite wary.

"I used to frequent these grounds to train the previous leader of this cult. The older followers, such as Barbatos or Junati, know me, if you worry. I have not visited in some time."

Seeing, however, that she still visibly didn't believe him, Camio reached under his cloak and pulled out a skull shaped pendant on a thin black chain. A Skull Necklace, an artefact of longevity rather unique to the cult of Death.

Lamb had given it to him rather early into their training. A gift.

Briar's eyes gleamed in recognition, and she relaxed, putting down her improvised basket shield.

"What brings you to me then?"

"I heard your tale, back in the cathedral. You spoke about how, when you were slain, you saw a lamb before you were revived."

"Yes, Dola, the shepherd. It's thanks to them I'm here." Briar ran her paw up and down her forearm. The memory was still not comfortable to recount.

"If I may ask... What did they look like?"

"Oh, well... I'm sorry, my memory's a little fuzzy. I remember they wore a veil and a white and gold robe. And they bore a staff with a bell, I remember it ringing as I woke up to see them... They were radiant, though. Serene, like a divinity." She paused. "I think they were also missing a horn. I can't tell why that detail stuck in my mind, but I think that's the case."

Recognition shone in his orange eyes. Lamb lost their horn during one of their many battles with Shamura's monstrosities. This only confirmed that Narinder did not get rid of them - they were still serving under him.

(It was reassuring. He's spent several days trying and failing to see if their body was anywhere in the mortal plane, so that they could at least be buried with dignity.)

This meant they were not gone... maybe he could even met them. It was relieving, even if the circumstances were not any less oppressive.

"Priest Baal spoke of who Dola was, back when they were mortal. How they served to free Lord Narinder. If you desire knowledge, I'd seek his help. I only met them briefly, but he knows much more than what I could tell you."

"I shall keep it in mind." He, however, did not trust whoever the god of death appointed to spread his teachings to tell him what he needs to know. Or to not try to stop him for that matter.

Camio looked over to Briar as he picked his sword and hung it on his back again. If I inquire where she met them, she will know where I'm headed... I can't risk having someone follow me. It would put her in danger as well.

"Did you want to ask something?" the vixen tilted her head, noticing his pause.

"...Stay safe, Briar. I worry that the future might be more turbulent than we expect. And thank you for your knowledge."

And before she could respond, he disappeared into the brush, blending in with the shadows and branches.

She wondered who he really was, and what he was searching for...

And what exactly did he meant by turbulent times being on the horizon.

[prev] [next]

[willowcrowned]

[Skysisters AU Primer]

The thing about investigating the Chancellor of the Republic is that it's kind of tough when you're working for the Republic. And technically, all the skysisters are working for the Republic. One of the requirements of them being released from Kamino is Jedi oversight—every single one of them has a CO that could take them down, if need be.

Every one of them, that is, but two.

The first: Kebi.

She was meant to join up with a Jedi general in the Outer Rim, but somewhere around Mandalore her ship ran out of fuel and she crashed hard. She was brought to the Duchess, and when trying to explain who she was, called herself 'sky's walk' —be'kebii'tra kemir in broken mandalorian. The nickname stuck: she's Kebi, and she's not leaving Mandalore to go to the Republic unless someone holds her at saberpoint, and maybe not even then. She's good at fighting, yeah, but she's not too interested in war.

The second: Jinn.

After Geonosis, one of the sisters came to Anakin while he was laid up in bed, waiting for his arm to recover enough for surgery. It was weird to see her but not her—her but not a girl. Weird, and a little bit good. She asked him a tentative question about it to start—how he knew, and what it meant—and then more. By the end of the day, she had all the details, and not just of his transition but his life, what it meant to be a slave on Tatooine as much as what it meant to be a boy there.

They're not a girl, they decide, and not a boy either, and they're definitely not binding themself to the Republic just because someone says they're owned and payed for. They name themself after the man who freed their brother, and they run away.

Technically, it's illegal for either of them to be not under the supervision of a Jedi general. Technically, the sisters should report them. Technically, the Jedi who should be worried about them should have the resources to retrieve two highly trained and dangerous Force-users who don't want to be found.

Technicalities mean very little when it comes to war.

When Jinn and Kebi get Belle's call, they answer, but it's not just them.

Lamb comms too—says she's found something weird in the Fett clones' brains, and to be careful.

And Pest—Pest, who Ventress has claimed as a little sister for nearly a year now, Pest, who Ventress would follow into hell and back—has been looking into the locations of all of Palpatine's comm calls. Ventress has followed, and she knows exactly what all the locations have in common.

Jinn and Kebi try to sneak out of the palace at night, to try to figure out what Palpatine is planning, and whether he knows what Dooku is doing, and how the clones fit into it all.

One problem: Kebi has made friends with Korkie, and he's not about to let her sneak out without telling his mom aunt.

"Hm," Satine says when she hears, because having a Kryze, a Mandalorian, investigate the debatably Mandalorian soldiers of a war to which she has been very loudly publicly opposed, is grounds for a massive political clusterfuck.

On the other hand, Korkie could act as an unbiased, not Republic-affiliated judge, and... this war needs to end.

Satine gives her blessing, and they're off.

Once again, there's a Jinn, a Ke(not)bi, and a Kryze on the run. Or, as @phoenixyfriend so eloquently put it:

< "Oh, it's Jinn and Kebi!" [spit take] "Did you just say Jinn and Kenobi?" "No, I mean, I guess kinda but--" "THOSE PAINS IN MY ASS SET THREE GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS ON FIRE LAST TIME THEY WERE HERE." >

(Jinn and Kebi are very impressed with their predecessors, and decide to adopt some elements of their style in a sort of tribute. On go the cloaks, the knee high boots, and the ponchos (when they're in disguise). Korkie, who wants nothing to do with this, sighs as he cuts Kebi's hair, and ties Jinn's back for them.)

[amysteriousmessenger]

‘As The World Falls Down’ - ‘Danger’ Ray x Reader Fic

Based lightly on ‘As the world falls down’ from Labyrinth, Reader attends a midnight ball, but all is not as it seems. 

Word count: 3.4K Rating: SFW CW: Elixir, drugs, cult behaviour, creepy Ray, forced Elixir Reader: Gender neutral Disclaimer: this isn’t how I actually think the Elixir would affect someone but I wanted to keep the fairytale aspect to the story!

Reblogs appreciated!! <3

_______________________

‘You’ll drink it, right? And then you can stay here with us forever. We’ll never have to be apart.’ Ray said, the blue bottle sitting between his half-gloved hands. He seemed nervous, but eager for you to have it. You’d already told him that you wanted to stay at Magenta and be a part of Mint Eye with him, hence he had brought you the Elixir that everyone was required to take to cleanse themselves. You wanted to stay, but you had seen the effect that the liquid had on Ray, but you were a little bit tentative to actually put it to your lips.

You’d grown such tenderness and genuine affection for Ray, and you were leaving behind a life that you didn’t really care for, so why would you not want to stay in Mint Eye? You nodded, reaching out your hands to take the bottle from him. He smiled, but the smile did not match the emotion in his eyes. There was a sweetness to his lips, but an intensity and darkness to his gaze that was… unsettling to pinpoint.

‘A-ah… It won’t hurt, right?’ You asked, taking a seat on the side of your bed. The colour reminded you of those sugary isotonic drinks that you saw teenagers drinking outside of schools or on the weekend, but you were certain that it was not the same liquid.

‘Maybe just a little…’ He started, ‘but I’ve flavoured it to taste like peaches, just for you. You’ll be happy with us, a place where you can truly belong. Don’t you want to stay with me? To feel held?’

You did. Though you’d come here by chance, you’d found people who longed to feel loved and needed. The life you’d left behind was nothing compared to the one that could lay ahead for you, and yet, why were you so scared to take the final plunge?

‘Okay…’ You took the heart-shaped bottle from him. You watched Ray as you uncorked the bottle, feeling somewhat as though you were about to drink the poison from a fairytale or a movie. But of course, surely this Elixir was nothing like that. Ray wouldn’t do that. That smile of his meant no harm. He cared for you and wanted you to stay with him at Magenta.

The first thing you noticed after opening the bottle was the heavy scent of peaches, Ray really must have poured a lot of nectar into the Elixir to cover up its original smell, which burned your eyes. Perhaps smelling it wasn’t the best idea. Perhaps drinking it wasn’t the best idea. You were hesitant, but it was the only way you would get to stay with him. You took one more glance at Ray, who stood in front of you smiling in all his princely attire, before pressing the bottle to your lips.

Instantly, the Elixir overwhelmed all of your senses. Though it was seeped in peach flavourings, it did little to cover the burning sensation it left in your mouth and throat. It was like drinking nail varnish remover, or pure gasoline. It hurt. You choked, spluttering slightly into the back of your hand.

Ray handed you a glass of water, smoothing out your hair and assuring you that the pain will pass. It was all part of joining Mint Eye. You had to purify yourself of the person you were before you entered Magenta. It had to happen in order to find true salvation with the Savior. You continued to choke on the liquid as you felt it hit your stomach. Did Ray… really drink this every day? How was he even still standing? No wonder he looked so ill all of the time.

The longer it was in your stomach, the worse you started to feel despite Ray’s reassurances that you would be okay.

‘Ray, I don’t feel too good, I think I’m gonna…’ You barely finished the sentence before your head started to spin. Your eyelids fluttered shut in an attempt to ground yourself and focus on sitting upright, but to little avail. You began to fall back onto the bed, but your head never hit the pillow, so that the last sensation you felt before the slumber took over you was the sensation of Ray’s hand supporting your neck and shoulders.

‘I have you, my Princess. I’ll never let you fall…’ He whispered as you began to lose consciousness. He mumbled something else that you couldn’t quite make out, but it sounded awfully like ‘For anyone else.’

-

You woke up, or at least you think you did. Nothing was real, and yet, it had to be. You were already on your feet, being guided down the maze of corridors. Everything was a daze, and it felt as though you were dreaming, yet you could have sworn that the footsteps you were taking felt undeniably real. Illuminated only by the cloaked men carrying candles, you caught a glance of yourself in a mirror on the wall and gasped. You hadn’t really had the chance to process much since regaining your consciousness. It hadn’t occurred to you that the clothes you fell asleep in were not the ones you had woken up in.

The dress was huge: white and crystallised. It was something from a fairy-tale, beautiful from everyway you turned. As soon as you realised you were the one wearing it, you couldn’t believe you had missed it in the first place. It took up the entire lower half of your vision with its endless layers of silk and satin. You paused at your reflection, trying to take in as much of the detail as you could in the dim lighting. The sleeves were great cream-puffs of fabric and the tight corset held your torso rigidly in place. At any other time, you might have complained about the confines of a corset, but it felt as though it was holding you together as you lost grip on everything else around you. The dress was somewhat bridal, but the princess aesthetic far outshone that of a matrimony. You carried your eyes upwards, giggling slightly as your face warped in the mirror and you pawed at the heavy necklace that sat over your collarbones.

Your hair had been done too, littered with small star pins which sparkled against the mirror. Those weren’t yours, you didn’t own anything like that, so how had you come to get them? In the haze of half-consciousness, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you reached a wavy hand up to tap your fingertips along the hair pins, as though to make sure that they were really there. They certainly felt real, but nothing felt real. The textures were all wrong, the colours too bright. There were so many of them and they were so beautiful that you wished you could take them out of the dream with you whenever you woke up.

A cough resonated from behind you, it was the cloaked Believers who had been leading you through the corridors. They did not raise their eyes to meet you, but stared downwards as the one on the left said; ‘Your presence is greatly anticipated.’

‘Who?’ You asked, bewildered as to the fact they were talking to you. For some reason, you had assumed that they couldn’t speak. Were they real?

‘Yours.’ The other one deadpanned.

‘Me? Mine?’ You responded, confused.

‘Yes.’

‘Oh.’ Well, they must have been real! You stumbled slightly over the front of the dress as you moved to follow them. You hadn’t even thought to ask where you were going. Really, it hadn’t even occurred to you that there was a destination, you had simply found yourself walking with them and continued on the journey they had been leading you on.

They brought you to a pair of heavy, ornate doors. Some thought lost within your brain told you that you recognised the door, but you couldn’t find the connecting memory to remember where the doors led to. You attempted to ask them but found that your reverie had taken your voice. You swallowed thickly and remained silent until the door opened. They ushered you in with a ‘For Paradise’ before leaving.

The sounds of life were the first thing to reach your diluted senses. Bursts of music unlike those you had heard within Mint Eye before reached your ears. It was rich, elegant music only achieved with live instruments and talent. It was overwhelming to have so many of your senses assaulted at once, so it took a few moments to gather your bearings. Your eyes began to focus on the surroundings and you slowly realised you were in Magenta’s throne room. Yet, you had never seen so many people gathered in here. The room of people seemed to dance and spin, mingling in their cliques and couples. Masks of all told tales of trickery, of lust, wealth, and status but few bore of identity or name. There were so many masked faces, with each masquerade domino covered in a thin layer of black crushed velvet which absorbed any of the light cast upon it. You were the only one without a mask, yet you had not woken up with one so you could not be to blame for the feeling of exposure. At least, that was what you told yourself as each masked face followed your shaky steps.

A blonde woman smiled at you, offering you her hand. Her mask was slightly different, your eyes were a little too fuzzy to make it out, but it looked as though she had a little decorative side pieces and sequins, setting her apart from the other guests. You knew her, but you could not place exactly how in that moment. Her warm smile made you want to trust her, so you had no reservations in taking her outstretched hand and following her lead. The blonde woman pulled you through the crowds as they parted for her with each step she took. They parted even before she got near to them, making sure she had plenty of space to walk through. You had to watch your feet as they walked so you didn’t stumble over the both of you, consciously kicking the front of the dress so the material didn’t drag along the floor.

‘Ray… You shouldn’t leave her lost like this. I don’t want to see my lambs running astray.’ The blonde woman said as she suddenly stopped walking.

‘You’re right, my Savior… It won’t happen again.’

That voice. Despite your delirium, you knew that voice. Ray.

You had no control over your own movements but watched as the woman moved your hand from hers to Rays. She seemed satisfied with the exchange and, before returning to the party, added; ‘See to it that it doesn’t.’

‘Y-you look beautiful. I chose your dress myself; I hope it is to your liking.’ He stuttered slightly, though tried to feign the confidence of his Prince Charming aesthetic. You followed his voice upwards until you reached his face and notice that he was also wearing one of the black masks. Like the blonde woman, Ray’s domino was a little different to the others: it was the same black velvet but this time it was stitched with the same silver thread that adorned your dress. The small stitches swirls along the right-hand side of his mask, occasionally catching the light when he turned.

He looked at you with such intensity that your felt your heart begin to race. Cinderella had found her Prince.

You opened your mouth to try to reply to Ray, but your voice had yet to return so no noise actually managed to make its way past your lips. He smiled, seemingly understanding the fact you couldn’t speak. Perhaps that was why he was smiling.

You noticed that the music had changed, and people had started to dance in couples with one another. Ray seemed to notice it too, but he did not look surprised. If anything, he seemed expectant. Ray turned and picked up a small flurry of flowers from the table behind him. Oh, what was the word for that? A cottage…? College…? Corsage? Corsage! You were glad to have found the correct word as Ray tentatively slid the flowers onto your wrist and tightened the ribbon. He hummed along to the new song, watching with pride as he watched you inspect the flowers.

‘I chose them from the garden just for you. Would you like to know what they are? These are red roses, which symbolise longing and desire. Those ones are Jonquil, they are like very small Daffodils and there are many of them as My Savior favours Daffodils, so I keep them in the garden. They mean reciprocation of affection. I find them rather sweet; they grow in clusters and yet… they yearn for love…’ He trailed off, lightly tapping the petal. ‘Finally, these ones are yellow Hyacinth, in Floriography the meaning differs depending on the colour, but these ones… They mean jealousy.’

Ray didn’t really give you the time to mull over the meanings he had told you before he once again swept you up with a different conversation.

‘My Princess, might I have this dance?’ Ray bowed, smiling with one arm crossed over his chest in a princely manner. You nodded, giggling at a somewhat over-dramatic curtsey you had attempted to do. My, what an idyllic dream! You didn’t wake to wake up, reality would never be as sweet.

The Ray you knew was never usually so calm, collected. You knew him as a nervous, over exhausted, and a little bit flustered. The Ray of your dreamy reverie was more calculated in his movements.

Ray’s gloved hand took your bare one and the other slipped around your waist. You’d never attempted to ballroom dance, but little mattered in an illusion such a this, so it wouldn’t matter if you were to miss a step or two. You placed your hand over Ray’s shoulder and lifted the arm he was holding to match his stance.

There's such a sad love Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel Open and closed Within your eyes I'll place the sky Within your eyes

A space parted for the two of you on the dancefloor as you noticed people seemed to move for Ray in the same manner that they did for the blonde woman. Ray seemed a little bit nervous to lead, but his grip on your hand told you that he was determined to keep you in his arms regardless of whether he knew the steps confidently or not. Knowing Ray, he had memorised them again and again.

Through his mask, his blue eyes were dedicated to your face, neck, and the enveloping of your hand and his. It was as though he couldn’t get enough of the sight of your hands intertwined like that together. You felt the hand on your waist begin to guide you gently as he took one step forward, then another back: pulling you with him in beat to the music.

You lost yourself to your thoughts and to the music. He looked like a prince and- did he say he had picked your dress himself? He had dressed you like a princess. It seemed fitting, since he already claimed you to be one, and had decorated your room as though you really were one. His own personal Princess. You had to be dreaming, nothing that felt so beautiful could ever truly be real. You had to wake up at some point or another.

There's such a fooled heart Beatin' so fast In search of new dreams A love that will last

After a moment, you had to snap yourself out of your own thoughts and focus on being led. Ray had indeed memorised the steps to the dance, and apparently had memorised your steps too since he guided each movement of yours, possessing your body in the dance as though it was one with his own.

He spun you around, grinning as he watched you spin again and again, as though you were just a small Ballerina in a decorative music box: dancing on command whenever the box was opened. Ray pulled you in to a dip, holding on to your back and not really letting you support yourself, which you did not mind. It was hard to control your own weight in dreams, everything felt so weightless and floaty that you somehow praised your own illusion for making everything seem so realistic. Within your heart I'll place the moon Within your heart

Slowly, your stomach began to churn. Maybe in your dream, you were still not one for dancing. You felt as your breathing got a little heavier by the moment as the colour started to drain away from the room. People were no longer dancing happily in beat as they had once done, they stood; scared and tense, watching as you turned to face them one by one. They were masked and cloaked, for sure, but they were not enjoying the party. They were moving closer.

The grand music you had heard was no longer playing, and the weightlessness you felt turned to breathlessness as you felt the true tightness of the corset around your waist. The heaviness of so many layers of satin, lace, and silk grounded you to the floor and made it impossible to move, let alone run, like your feet were willing you to do. Cinderella would not leave the ball tonight.

You had to ask Ray, he wouldn’t lie to you… Would he? This was your dream; you could control what happened! Why was it turning into a nightmare?

As the pain sweeps through Makes no sense for you

‘R-Ray… What’s going on…?’

Ray’s face suddenly changed. He broke off the dance and stood still for a moment, watching as you tilted your head in confusion and a glimmer of fear. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the same blue liquid you had drank before falling asleep. You shook your head, not wanting to feel the sickness that came with such a commitment. He seemed both disappointed and dissatisfied with your reluctance. You couldn’t stop the shaking that had started, heavy tremors that wracked your body to the bone.

‘Ray… did you not use the correct dosage? See, look how the poor child suffers. You don’t want to make her leave, do you Ray?’ The same blonde woman from earlier said. You frantically turned, looking to find her face, but she was just a faceless voice in the blurring crowd.

‘No, my Savior.’ Ray said, grabbing one of your wrists. He didn’t squeeze tighter than necessary, but it was more than apparent that you were not escaping his grip any time soon. There was a desperation to it.

‘Then do it like I instructed you.’ She said. Ray swallowed and nodded, popping open the cork to the bottle with his freehand and pressing it against your lips.

Every thrill is gone Wasn't too much fun at all

It took a moment of coughing and spluttering for the wrongs to right themselves again, as Ray took the bottle away from your lips. The overwhelming flavour of peaches filled all of your senses and choked you. Whoever said that peaches were a symbol of family and unity had never taken a bite of one so infected. The sweetness was a danger in itself, it hid the darkness laying within. Sugar-coating it. You hadn’t noticed the burn of the Elixir as much this time, probably since you weren’t really drinking it. It fell down your open throat and pooled as poison into your stomach.

‘You’ll be happy with us, my Princess…’ He repeated as you held your throat and coughed. You were dizzy, so dizzy. The room seemed to spin and, if it were not for Ray’s chest, you would have fallen forward onto the ground. You wheezed onto him form, squeezing your eyes shut until the pounding in your chest and head began to even themselves out.

But I'll be there for you As the world falls down

When your eyes opened once more, the colour returned to the room and the music resonated throughout each nerve ending in your body. The room was alive once again and you could feel it. Ray was looking at you and smiling. You were still dreaming; the clock had not yet struck Twelve.

Falling As the world falls down

[avengershumanresources]

blood 6 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

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

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

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

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

part 5 - part 7 

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist 

6 - a promise

Violet was uncharacteristically tight lipped as she dressed you the next morning. Part of you worried that the nosy maid had seen you on the balcony the night before, but you quickly remembered she’d gone to bed early after drinking too much. 

She kept sending pitying glances in your direction, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why. Smoothing out your skirts, she grabbed the knife you’d hidden under your pillow and tied it securely at your side. 

“For good luck?” she joked, though that pitying look crossed her feature as soon as the words left her mouth. 

You’d been struck dumb, expression bewildered as to how she knew about the dagger. 

“James,” she replied simply, patting the weapon for safe keeping. 

The implication was both comforting and terrifying. 

How much influence did her two friends truly possess within the castle walls? 

Accompanying you to breakfast, Violet stopped you outside of the dining hall, hand tightening around your forearm. 

“Please keep your head,” she whispered, glancing nervously around them. “No matter what you find on the other side of this door.”

It was an ominous warning, but you kept it in mind while she pushed open the door,’leading you inside. 

For a moment, you were certain your heart had stopped working from pure horror alone. 

King Brock Rumlow sat by your uncles side, laughing as a plate of meat and eggs was placed in front of him. 

“My dear, it’s so wonderful you could join us,” Obadiah stood and motioned for you to sit across from Brock at the table. “Did you sleep well? I imagine you might have stayed up bubbling with excitement.”

“Uncle,” you greeted tensely, feeling Violet’s form freeze at the casual exchange. Keep your mind. You needed to stay calm. 

Calm, even though your father’s murderer was smirking at you, only meters out of your grasp. 

“Princess, I’m sure you’re familiar with King Brock Rumlow,” he motioned to the king who stood and bowed his head. 

“Your highness,” he reached for your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, lingering a moment too long for your comfort. “I’m sure this has been such a confusing and terrible time.”

You bit your tongue, swallowing down any backlash that stirred. 

“Rest assured, King Brock has a very reasonable explanation for everything,” Obadiah invited the group to eat. You took your seat, trying to ignore the way Rumlow’s eyes devoured you.  Like a lamb to slaughter, he looked positively ravenously at you. 

“Your highness, it’s been a terrible misunderstanding,” he explained with a long sigh. “The Asgardians had been ordered to attack the border villages and I sent my men to help. There was skirmish and your father was murdered by that brutish Thor Odinson. They threw his body into the river before retreating. There was nothing we could do.”

Liar. 

“You see? He was trying to defend the king,” Obadiah tilted his water goblet in your direction. “And to think, those barbaric Asgardians had the audacity to stand and mourn with you.”

Liar. 

“I’m...” you never had been a very convincing actress (Peter had always told you so), but the performance you put on that morning would have rivaled the great Bard himself. “That is certainly distressing news.”

Obadiah eyed you, the reaction catching him by surprise. 

“Brock has come to formally apologize for the confusion,” Obadiah started, watching you carefully for the slightest slip up. “He’s asked me for your hand as a means of reconciliation between the kingdoms.”

Your stomach dropped out, your lungs stopped moving, and you were certain both bellmen could hear your heart hammering anxiously against your chest. 

Marriage... to that monster. The man you knew slayed your father. The man whose rumors of his late wife followed behind whispers of death and deceit. 

Obadiah wanted to marry you off to him, for something. He had to have gotten something. 

Your father out of the way, your brain supplied helpfully. 

“With King Brock’s help, and the Kree army to the north, we will finally be able to stop those damned Wakandans and Asgardians from breaching our trade routes.”

Fingers tensing around your dining knife, you forced a smile on your face. 

“Really?” you asked, throwing as much enthusiasm as you could stomach in the question. “Me? Married to a king?” 

Obadiah paused, furrowing his brows, but Brock seemed unfazed. 

“You’ll be my queen and we will rule this entire region,” he reached across the table and took your hands. “We can make the arrangements post haste.”

“Why not a fortnight from today?” Obadiah suggested, a cruel smile spreading over his face. “I’ll start the servants on things today.”

“If you insist,” Brock laughed, an empty sound that stabbed deep into you. “What say you, my dear?”

You turned to your uncle, a cold mask over your true thoughts. 

“Must we wait a fortnight?” you asked, your lip jutting out in a pout. “Surely a more intimate ceremony can be put together in the next week?” 

You could tell Obadiah was trying to guess your plan, the king trying to call your bluff but agreeing wholeheartedly. 

“Such eager lovebirds,” he bellowed with another laugh. “Bring the wine, we have much to celebrate today.”

You managed to get through the breakfast, face hurting from all the forced and held smiles that fought against your cringing. 

After the meal ended, you excused yourself to lay down for a a while, the excitement having tired you out.

Instead of your chambers, however, you hurried to the observatory, praying to the gods that Stephen was inside. 

You found him curled on one of the cots, red cloak strewn over his shoulders, deep asleep. That peace was broken once you tried to quietly shut the door. His eyes flickered open and he took you in with a sleepy smile. 

“Your highness,” he greeted, sitting up while you moved to sit across from him. Sensing your sour mood, he reached tenderly for your hands. “He told you.” 

“You knew?” you asked, broken that he would keep such pertinent information from you. 

“I found out early this morning,” he admitted. “I spent the evening trying to think of a way to make it right, but have kept coming short.”

“I don’t believe that,” you smirked toward a book open to a page detailing the effects of belladonna. 

“I realized murder would be frowned upon,” he murmured. “And I think the court would be suspicious if the king and his allies turned up dead all at once.”

“They’re blaming Asgard for my father’s death,” you explained. “They intend to invade after the wedding.”

“How long do we have?” he asked, eyes scanning your face for a hint of good news. 

“I uh, I may have made a mistake in that regard,” you replied, expression contorting in guilt. “Initially it was a fortnight, but Obadiah didn’t seem to believe that I would comply. So I suggested seven days.”

“Why would you need to be compliant?” he asked. 

“I don’t know, Violet told me to keep my temper under control, so it seemed like the smart thing to do,” you threw your head back in exasperation.

“You aren’t wrong,” he replied, quickly explaining the dilemma Peter had outlined the night before. “But a week means our timetables must move up.”

He grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, quickly scribbling a message and holding it in his palm. It disappeared in a poof of smoke. 

“What was that?” you pressed, following him with your gaze when he stood up and paced the room. 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he assured her. “Just trust me. There are many forces at work. Don’t make any more moves without first telling me. Promise me.”

You tilted your head, reading his exhausted expression and nodding your head slowly. 

How could you not trust him? 

He smiled, a sight that sent your heart rushing, in a good way. Moving toward him, you cupped his cheek and stood on your toes to give him a soft kiss. 

“Careful princess,” he growled as the kiss became more heated and he stumbled back into one of the chaise’s, your body pressed flush against him. “Don’t start what you don’t intend to finish.”

The warmth inside of you screamed to finish the job, but his warning hit a more rational part of your brain and you pulled away in disappointment. 

“Soon,” you promised in a terse whisper, wishing you could ducal your head into a cool pond. 

“I have every intention of keeping you to that,” he replied, shifting slightly and adjusting the front of his robes with a sigh. His face flushed, pupils dilated. 

Gods you could have had him then and there.

Another folded piece of parchment appeared on the table and you quickly snatched it up, reading over the familiar handwriting before Stephen could jump up from the chaise. 

“You’re working with Loki?” you asked, holding up the paper. “You do know it’d be suicide for him to show his face in this kingdom.”

“The guard is on our side,” he explained briskly, grabbing the letter and reading it over. “We need to delay this as much as possible. If he challenges Brock to a duel, the law dictates the match must be honored.”

“Were you not the one worried about Brock’s sudden influx in power?” you asked incredulously.  “He’s up to something sinister. Loki will get himself killed!”

“I said trust me,” he countered sharply. “Please, princess. I’m doing this all for you and we need a little more time. Besides, it will get Loki into the castle undetected by Amora.”

You’d almost forgotten about the enchantress. Brock spoke highly of her during breakfast and you’d had the pleasure of meeting the blonde haired woman at the end of the meal. Even from a distance, you could sense there was something wicked about her. 

“You will be careful?” you asked, knowing that even if the reassurance was empty, it was something. 

“We will do our best,” he promised quietly, both of you knowing full well he was lying.

(—)

Natalia hated wandering to this side of the forest. She knew she could reasonably fight off any ne’er do wells or rogues, but she also knew that the mystics and magic users liked to use the thick foliage coverings as a means of hiding from the public. 

Not everyone could serve in a castle and villagers were fickle, superstitious folk. 

Still, it was where Michelle had told her to meet with Wanda, the sorceress having passed the message long in hopes of the pair crossing paths. 

“My cottage is just around the meadow,” Wanda chimed up, breaking Amat’s train of thought with an amused smile. “You’re early.”

“I wanted to make sure the area was secure,” Nat replied, her fingers dropping from the dagger she’d been about to pull. “Quite a way of passing along a message.”

“I needed to ensure its discretion, I apologize for the roundabout means,” she answered sincerely, moving toward a small cottage and opening the door for her guest. “We have much to discuss.”

“Couldn’t you have passed it along the princess or Strange?” 

“It’s not yet the time for them to know,” she hummed, snapping her fingers and igniting the fire under a tea kettle. That had caught the assassin’s interest and she waited until Wanda continued. “You’re aware no body of the king was found?” 

“They buried an empty box,” Natalia nodded, glancing at the teacup places in front of her. “The leading rumor is he was thrown in the river and the Kree are holding onto the remains.”

Wanda pulled a few herbs from her pantry, pulling the kettle from the fire with a wave of her hand and floating it over the red heads cup. The hot water fell from the air, passing through the herbs, and landing into the cup as a freshly brewed tea. 

“There are many whispers about the fate of the great Iron Defender,” she agreed softly, taking a sip from her own cup with a satisfied smile. “But, what I want to tell you is the truth of the matter.”

“Which is?” 

“I’m amazing at dramatic entrances,” a voice cracked, opening the front door of Wanda’s cottages and grinning at Natalia. “Natalia, it’s been quite some time since you were stealing rolls from the kitchen.”

King Anthony Stark himself stood before her, perfectly healthy and strong. 

“How?” she blurted out with a wide eyed look between the pair. “Clint saw you pierced through the chest with an arrow.”

“Did he?” Wanda asked, a twinkle of crimson flickering through her eyes. “The men saw what the king wanted them to see.”

“I needed to ensure my enemies thought I was dead,” he explained, settling at the table across from her. “I knew Brock was planning something across the border and once Odin warned me that Amora had taken the place of Mordo, I needed to act to protect the kingdom and my family.”

“You need to remove Obadiah from the throne, he intends to-,” Nat started but Tony nodded slowly at her words. 

“I’m well aware,” he stated. “I knew he’d been corresponding with Brock for some time and that there would be a plot against me. I needed to make sure my enemies were all exposed in a fell swoop, but Wanda mentioned the engagement and I was forced to move my plans forward.”

“Plans?” 

“I had hoped to move when Obadiah refused to give up the throne on Peter’s birthday,” he explained. “But, given what Brock intends to offer for my daughter’s hand, we can’t wait any longer.”

“What do you mean?” Natalia furrowed her brows. “You don’t mean to move on him now, do you? That’d be madness, not without our allies.”

“Who said I didn’t have allies?” he grinned back at her. “Black Widow, you’re not the only one with a large web. I’ve secured Wakandan and Asgardian support, as well as the support of the southern Kree empire. Steve has been working under my orders to determine the loyalty of the guard. Everything is ready to be put in motion, so long as Brock doesn’t mobilize his troops before the wedding.”

“Did you expect this?” she asked, dumbfounded by all of the information. 

“I had expected to deal with them separately, but this makes it convenient,” he shrugged. “But I need you to ensure the safety of the princess and my family.”

“It’s being taken care of,” Natalia replied. “Strange and the others have come up with a plan to get them all to safety. The queen and Morgan will be moved to Kamar-Taj and the princess will be taken to Stephen’s family home.”

“Has he come to his senses, yet?” he asked with a snort. 

“Very recently,” Natalia chuckled. “So he has even more to lose with a successful marriage. I’ve never seen him quite this motivated.”

“And what of Peter?” 

“He wants to fight,” she explained. “The others are encouraging him to wait, but already some men have sworn allegiance to him. Some of the major houses are beginning to start preparations for civil war.”

Tony considered her words, fingers twirling around the edges of his beard as she spoke. 

“This is good then,” he decided. “With Peter rallying the families against Obadiah, he has less claim to the throne.”

“Unless Obadiah catches wind and has him executed on the spot,” Wanda supplied dryly. “We must continue to work discreetly.”

“We need someone inside of the walls to help coordinate from within,” Tony explained.

“Why can’t Wanda do it?” Nat asked and Wanda let out a frustrated sigh.

“Obadiah is keeping out all magic keepers except Stephen and Amora, since he is the Master Sorcerer of the castle and she’s a royal guest,” she shook her head. “It’s an effort to prevent any threats against the royal family.”

“The irony was not lost on us,” Tony added with a small smirk. “I can pay you handsomely- after I reclaim my throne.”

“Wouldn’t that be humiliating?” Natalia teased. “All this work and you lose the throne in the end?”

“That ultimately depends on what you say,” he urged and she bowed her head, offering a hand to shake. 

“I want a large parcel of land,” she insisted. “And a title.”

“What about James?”

“I suppose he’ll need a title too,” she paused. “Perhaps another parcel for him as well?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

(---)

“It’s quiet,” you whispered, back against cool grass, fingers intertwined with Stephen’s as the two of you gazed up at the night sky.

“Mandatory curfews,” he murmured. “We’d do well not to attract the guard.”

“Then we’ll just have to be quiet, won’t we?” you rolled toward him, propping yourself up on her elbow and looking down at him with a sly grin. 

“We must be absolutely silent,” he agreed, leaning up and cupping your face. Slowly he pulled you closer until you were practically onto of him. Pulling you even closer, you tumbled a ways down the small hill before stopping with a soft thud on the ground below.

Exchanging bewildered looks, you both burst out laughing. You reached forward to pluck a few leaves out of his hair when he caught you by the wrist and kissed you passionately. A moan escaped you when he nibbled on a more sensitive part of your neck, the chill sending shivers everywhere.

“Don’t do that,” he warned, the nibbles becoming small bits, his kiss becoming more desperate and hungry. “I can’t promise to control myself.”

“Then don’t,” you managed through a whimper when he slipped his hands under your corset. He teased, fingers lightly maneuvering over the sensitive skin. You were about to rip the damned thing off yourself when he stopped.

“Are you trying to be cruel?” you asked, face drained of blood and clothes disheveled.  

“Something’s coming-,” he scrambled to his feet, drawing up a portal and sealing it shut just before a blast of fire struck. “Someone knew we were there.”

“Impossible,” you shook your head. “You’ve disguised your magic, and the wards around the room are some best rune work I’ve seen in ages.”

He paused, catching snippets of what you were saying. 

They hadn’t tracked his signature- they’d tracked yours.

He grabbed your wrist and wrapped his palm around it, muttering a spell and pulling away. 

The rune Loki had cast over you had almost faded away. 

“What is-?” you started but he was scrambling across the room looking for something to prick the end of his finger to get a little blood. 

Spying a needle on your armoire, he grabbing the tiny object and prodded his fingertip, a small bead of blood appearing. 

Approaching, he frowned in thought. He needed to be careful. Too powerful and the seidr wouldn’t be able to protect you. Too weak and the seidr would eat through too quickly and its uncontrolled power in your untrained body could wreak devastation the kingdom over. 

“Why are you renewing a seal?” you asked, recognizing the symbol on your wrist with pointed interest.

Why were you such a dedicated student? You’d read almost all the texts he had read in his life, often asking thoughtful questions about the material he hadn’t thought of. 

This was a basic power sealing rune that had been added on and changed slightly in terms of the magic involved.

“What are you trying to seal, Stephen?” you repeated tersely, eyes narrowed at him.

(---)

7- a king 

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[courtlyharlequin]

For🌙 - Before me stood the Malleus Draconia himself. He guided me into the more thorny parts of the woods where his castle stood, once inside we had some tea and spent the night talking and cuddling by the fireplace

Aromatherapy

A/N: Not that you need to know, but this fic was inspired by black chamomile bergamot hand soap. It had such a calming effect on me that somehow transferred into my writing. It smells really good I’m ♡♡♡

A/N²: This was a little self indulgent as I wanted to establish some lore of the event into this fic. Also, my writing might be a little rusty after my semi-hiatus so I’m sorry if it’s not up to par as my other works. Thank you for being so patient. I should be able to write more frequently now  <3

A flurry of delicate crystals fell from the sky, nipping the tip of your nose with a slight sting. You held back a sneeze as you quickened your pace. The creatures of the night howled with the wind. You spun your heel, meeting with dozens of glowering eyes that illuminated the forest. They crawled towards you. Each step forward unearthed more grotesque features ranging from more than one set of jaws to foaming mouths. Your breath hitched and you turned around, picking up your pace. Your legs were light as a kilogram of feathers. As the snow fell more vehemently, you prayed that the sun would rise soon.

When the White Rabbit led you into the woodlands, she had stated that you were invited for a tea party, one where you could eat anything you desired– if those things fit weren’t mustard and could fit into the Hatter’s hat that is. Yet here you were, ready to become a night creature’s late night snack. Apparently, slightly crumbled cookies from your basket did not suffice. They discarded the goodies the moment they received the basket. Granted, you did throw it at them as a distraction.

Your foot collided with something underneath the thin sheet of snow. You yelped as you fell to the ground. The snow crunched under your weight as you shifted onto your knees. It was warm, like an embrace. Since when was snow warm?

The beasts’ growls were in earshot. Rising to your feet was a struggle. You scrambled across the snow, but to no avail. At this rate, you were going to be devoured. It was so cold. You were so tired. Perhaps it would be alright to give into a kiss of death. You were alone and lost in the woods, searching for an exit aimlessly. The night creatures inched towards you with precise steps. There were three of them– three ghastly beasts fueled by hunger.  One of them appeared to be the alpha, leading the others towards you. You closed your eyes as it pounced onto you, sinking its jaws onto your calves. The snow was terribly warm. It was almost cozy. You cried into it like a child would into a mother’s sleeve.

Thunder clapped and the night wailed. A flash of green flames illuminated the sky and disappeared as fast as it came. Your legs felt less heavy. Then, the numbness in your leg faded. You groaned. Was that it? Had you perished so soon? 

“Are you lost, little lamb?” a voice cooed.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a figure painted in black from head to toe crouch before you. You felt cold, but it quickly faded as you felt them scoop you up into their arms. You gazed at the ground. They were quite tall or so it would seem. Their warmth differed greatly from the snow’s.

You opened your eyes drowsily, meeting your gaze with your savior. Your senses were hazy, but you were certain that snow was not an ethereal being with long ebony locks, brilliant viridian eyes or sleek horns. Perhaps this being was your guardian angel. Or the devil? Angels didn’t don black cloaks, but he resembled one in every way. Divine. Absolutely divine,

You mewled and hugged him a little tighter, darkness engulfing your consciousness.

There was a bright light. You blinked twice. This was not the afterlife at. Or at least not what you imagined it would be. You thought it would be more extravagant than the interior of a gothic castle. It seemed dull– gray, somber. The candelabras were lit with viridescent flames, adding an eerie and unsettling aura to the bedroom. You sat up, wincing. You felt a small prick against your calves.

You lifted the covers to reveal your leg. It was bandaged neatly and elevated on a small throw pillow. Your eyes drifted to your clothing. In exchange for your cloak and travelling ensemble, you wore an oversized silk dress shirt. The hem barely covered your knees while its sleeves extended to your thighs. It was comfortable nonetheless.

“You’re awake.”

You were alive.

You hugged your legs and nodded sheepishly. There he was, an angel. Your savior set down a tray at the nightstand.

You stared into his eyes. Though you were certain that this was not in the afterlife, this man was an angel. No doubt about it. His presence said it all. It radiated power. He was ethereal. He had long ebony locks and porcelain skin. His eyes were akin to emeralds. He stood tall, towering over you with his arms crossed and a faint pout evident on his lips.

“Well, Child of Man?”

You broke eye contact.

“Child of Man,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Perhaps you would regain your focus if you help yourself to some hazelnut soup,” he gestured to the tray.

You peered over his figure to examine the foodstuff. He saved you, treated your wounds, and now he offers to feed you. Truly, he was a seraph.

What could you possibly do to repay him? Did he desire compensation? Although you were hungry, guilt swelled in the back of your mind.

“It’s edible. The fair folk have a reputation for being terrible cooks, but I assure you that the fire fairies in my castle are well immersed in human cuisine,” he said.

“Fae?”

“My, you /are/ a lost little lamb, aren’t you?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Wonderland. A forest.”

“Anything else?”

“The White Rabbit said something about a tea party,” you said.

He straightened his posture and bowed.

“So you are the Hatter’s guest. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. One moment please. I won’t be long. Help yourself to the soup in the meantime. I know the fire pixies won’t be pleased if you let it grow cold,” he said, walking out of the room.

Hatter? Fire pixies?

His footsteps echoed throughout the hall. You stared at the tray. Alongside the ceramic bowl, there was a small dinner roll, a side salad, and a cup of tea. You clutched your stomach as it growled.

You swung your legs over the mattress and let them dangle off the bed. Your eyes trailed down to the ornate carpet. You were famished. The man did tell you to eat. It would be rude not to comply with his request after he nursed you back to health.

You bit your lip as you reached for the tray, setting the cool metal surface onto your lap. You took the spoon and raised it to your lips, blowing the ribbons of smoke away as if you were making a dandelion wish. You wrapped your lips around the utensil, taking in the soup’s warmth. It was rich, sweet, and  creamy with an earthy undertone. A sigh escaped your lips.

“Not bad, I presume?” your savior chuckled.

You flinched. He had returned.

He received a hum of affirmation in response. With that, he pulled a wooden chair from the bedroom’s study area and placed it beside the bed, directly in front of you. He sat down, crossing his legs. He opened up a leatherbound book, raising an eyebrow at you. You nervously grinned and fiddled with your thumbs. It was a decent sized book, not too large, but not too small to be a novella either. It was worn and torn around the edges though its gold detailing on the spine was still prevalent.

He met your gaze then snapped his fingers. Your eyes widened as the tea cup on your tray multiplied into two and the contents changed from a murky green to a cozy brown. They then lifted themselves off the tray and waltzed in the air for a few moments before stopping on their own saucers at the nightstand.

“I heard chamomile tea calms the nerves… for humans, anyway. I do love the flavor of it as well. Would you like one lump or two?”

“Are you not human? And two please.”

He blinked. The sugar cubes sunk to the bottom of your cup.

“I am affiliated with the fair folk,” he said.

He waved his hand around, dismissing the fact that he had summoned another teacup along with matching saucers and sugar jar and changed the teas with the snap of his fingers. Having been in this wonderland for a while now, you were familiar with magic. The possibility of fair folk couldn’t be ruled out, but you had never considered much about their existence until now. Then again, you didn’t know what night creatures were either until recently.

“Who are you?”

“A fae who happens to live in these parts and nothing more,” he said.

“And nothing more… then do you have a name?”

“You may call me anything you’d like. I do not have a preference. Names are merely labels no?”

“I suppose so.”

“There once was a little beastie that called me Tsunotaro. You may call me that if you’d like.”

“Tsunotaro?”

“Yes, I’m quite fond of that name too. You remind me of them therefore I shall allow it.”

“Alright then.. Tsunotaro.”

The light in his eyes faltered. He turned past the title page.

“And what do I call you, lost little lamb?”

“(y/n),” you said curtly.

“(y/n)... I like that,” he whispered softly, “Well, then (y/n), welcome to the Tugley Woods. We are in the northern part of Wonderland. It’s a hub for mana which draws in a plethora of characters such as merfolk and beastmen. Are you familiar with mana? It’s essentially a life force used as a catalyst for magic.”

You hummed along to the inflections of his voice.

He continued: “Perhaps you encountered some paragons of mana on the way here. Or wherever your destination was. They’re troublesome bunches, really. They have their own territories. Anything that trespasses those borders is beyond my control, even as the Prince of Thorns, I—”

You fidgeted with the sheets, a minute action and yet the fae’s eyes peeled up from the book.

“Does the origin of the woods bore you?”

You shook your head, “Not at all. I’m just having difficulty visualizing the entire forest and the factions. It must be vast.”

The fae grinned. With a flick of his hand, he conjured green flames within a furnace, illuminating the side of your bed with a faint yet welcoming warmth.

He rose from his seat, edging the covers, ushering you aside as he climbed into the comforters. He shifted around. Once he was satisfied, he propped open the book, continuing on with your history lesson. There was a large map sprawled across the thin pages. The words were racked from Tsunotaro’s memories.

You leaned on his shoulder. He was oddly warm despite his pale, lifeless complexion. Tsunotaro’s voice soothed your soul, spelling away all your fears— no matter how grand or horrible they may be.

“The West is guarded by the beastmen. They aren’t aggressive when you cross borders, only when you mess with their prey. They congregate here due to their affinity towards the mana here.”

Malleus pointed at the map. His fingernail made the book sound hollow.

“This allows them to use their magic easily as the area’s terrain is filled with sand and earth magic despite being surrounded by trees. You could say the same for the merfolk in the East as well. Except that area consists of woodlands with a large loch in the middle. The loch is deeper than it seems. It leads to the Coral Sea, I believe. The ‘monsters’ —”

“Why must they be monsters?”

“Aside from their appearances, the beastmen and the merfolk are experiencing a mana drought as of now as a majority of the magical energy here has ceased over the years. The ley lines have been exhausted due to constant irrigation and migration of the forests’ inhabitants. Nowadays, they attack travelers, driven by their hunger and thirst for mana to strengthen their magic and sustain their own livelihoods. Aside from them, there’s also night creatures. Those were the wolves that attacked you on the first day. ”

“And what does that make you?”

“Certainly not a monster if that is what you were implying. The fae generate their own mana. In fact, this castle is fortified with mana spun on a single spinning wheel. This prevents attacks from the other night creatures,” he said.

“That does not make the others monsters if they were merely trying to survive.”

“Did they not attack you on your journey?”

“They did, but it was the wrong timing. Besides those were wolves, I’m sure the factions have their own reasons.”

“Touché, Beastie,” he said.

Tsunotaro glanced upward.

“Oho?”

“I suppose they all have their reasons. As you said, they might just be doing so for their survival. Though the fair folk could never empathize with them, we are typically not shackled by the limits of age nor are we familiar with death. We create our own mana and we seldom consume food for survival, only pleasure.”

“I see…”

You yawned. He placed a slender ribbon in between the worn pages of the book. It clapped into place as he set it on the nightstand.

“Perhaps I’ve said more than a beastie could handle. Nevermind that. The chamomile must finally be settling in on you.”

For a mere moment, his eyes flashed into silts and glowed. Your lids were heavy.

“Rest well, Beastie—  for you have a long journey ahead of you.”

He rose from his seat, striding towards the door. The candles’s flames extinguished as he walked past them.

“You too, Tsunotaro.”

The fae halted.

“Yes… thank you, Yu—,” he paused, “(y/n).”

He sighed.

“Thank you, (y/n)” he said.

[crimsonrae]

The Wiles of Men and Women

Chapter Four

Summary: Georgiana Stafford has just become betrothed to a man older than her father. Her last chance to enjoy society on her terms comes the night that court celebrates the birth of Princess Mary. She was prepared for just about anything, but she hadn't been prepared for him. Charles Brandon.

CharlesxOC,

Rated: Mature

A/N:  Here is Chapter Four. I’ve been re-watching the first season and Charles really is a little shit: Between thinking of what he had done to Buckingham’s daughter to make her beg, teasing Margret (though really she deserved and enjoyed it) and hearing him tell a paramour to ‘Get her husband to lick it off’ ... I’m like ‘I kind of want to smack you.’ So to clarify this is very early Charles right now - he’s about twenty-three/ twenty-fourish and Katerina: I would place about five years older than Georgiana. Thank you to everyone who liked and showed support. I always love hearing from you guys. 💕 I really appreciate it 😊. Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

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Big Bad Wolf

Katerina chewed on the inside of her cheek as she helped Georgiana ready herself. In truth, the younger girl hardly needed her assistance, but the finishing of laces and plaiting of hair was a good distraction from the conversation that the maid needed to eventually begin. It wasn't until Georgiana had tied a simple ribbon around her crown and picked up a cloak that Katerina didn't remember seeing in the Lady's trunk that she knew she couldn't put it off any longer.

"Lady Georgiana..." Katerina began hesitantly, not feeling embolden as Georgiana merely turned a sweet acknowledging glance her way. It was too trusting and made her gut twist with mild guilt. She silently cursed Charles Bandon's name, "When we go to the markets you need to be on your guard."

Georgiana frowned bemused, while she was an Earl's daughter, she had been to the markets before... not London's, but Wiltshire had its own section of stalls and shops. She lifted an incurious brow at her lesser, "Were you planning on stopping in a tavern or a brothel?"

It was Katerina's turn to blink in confusion, "...N-no, milady."

"Are we still getting herbs and a few bits and bobbles?" Georgiana pressed unconcerned as Katerina nodded, "Then what nefarious activity should I be on guard for?"

"Not a what really... more a who." Katerina edged uncomfortably as she refrained from fidgeting.

By this point, Georgiana had turned her full attention to her servant with an expression torn between amused and expectant. The last time she had seen someone look this uncomfortable it had been her mother as her father announced whom she was to marry. As that particular memory, her amusement became somewhat tempered, "A who?"

Katerina nodded, "It seems that Mr. Charles Brandon has taken an interest in you, milady. I believe he will seek you out at the markets today."

Georgiana felt a strange mix of emotions at the servant's words. She was suddenly terrified that Charles had discovered where his lost lamb had gotten to, but also excited? Nervous? Her heart was doing funny things in her chest while her stomach seemed to flutter in dread. She had no liking for any of it.

Feeling flushed and suddenly trembling, she attempted to keep her expression as placid as possible. She had told Katerina much about the man who had taken her maidenhead, but not his name and she was reluctant to give that particular detail away now, "Mr. Brandon? For what purpose? He knows that I'm engaged to Lord Somerset."

An almost pitying grimace crossed Katerina's expression, "Mr. Brandon cares not for such details... He has something of a reputation when it comes to the ladies of court."

Some part of Georgiana was wholly unsurprised by this pronouncement. She had heard a few whispers during tea and promenades with a few of the courtly matrons, but it was the way he had pursued and ravaged her that had already clued Georgiana onto that fact. Charles had been entirely too confident in everything he did that night not to have a few lovers. She had only been relieved to find that he wasn't married. She couldn't bear the thought of humiliating another woman in such a way... though she had hoped, perhaps naively, that Charles would feel the same.

Heart sinking in her chest, she stubbornly pushed her swelling emotions away, "Well, Mr. Brandon will simply have to learn that just because he chases doesn't mean he'll capture his quarry."

"Of course, milady." There was a pause as Katerina watched her young mistress flare almost defiantly at her unintendingly patronizing tone.

Then a thought seemed to occur to Georgiana as her gaze narrowed faintly, "Katerina, how does Mr. Brandon know I'll be at the markets? I haven't told a soul."

Katerina felt an embarrassed flush climb to her cheeks as she weakly uttered, "My apologies, milady..."

A strange stab of betrayal welled in Georgiana as she quickly connected the dots. She felt angry that her information had been given away so easily and wondered at what else her servant had imparted.

Shakily, she demanded, "What else did you tell him? Should I be waiting for more lecherous men to hound my heels now that I'm... I'm damaged goods. Should I expect Lord Somerset to break off our engagement? Will my father be storming through that door to vent his humiliation and anger at me?"

Katerina's emerald eyes widen in surprise as she softly shook her head.

"No, no, milady. It wasn't like that at all..." She sighed and tried to find the right words, "I don't gossip, milady. It leads to too much trouble, especially around here. Mr. Brandon knows this about me... he knows me too well." She said a little bitterly, "The only information I conveyed, was your whereabouts. Anything else he would have to get elsewhere."

Georgiana studied her a moment in an almost surly manner. Katerina's frustrated anger hadn't escaped her notice. She knew resentment like that and it brought a thin strain of concern to the surface as tentatively she asked, "You're angry with him...did he force you, Katerina? Did he hurt you?"

A rueful chuckle left the servant as she shook her head, "I'm angry with me, milady. Mr. Brandon can be quite persuasive when he wants to be and almost single-handedly determined. It's why I warn you to beware of him, be on your guard. You have yet to be exposed to his particular set of charms, but that should only give you armor against him."

Georgia nearly choked on an incredulous laugh that bubbled in her throat. Oh, she knew Mr. Brandon's charms alright... And so too, it seemed did Katerina. A different feeling of betrayal wound tight around her heart, but she knew it was silly to even feel it. Brandon wasn't hers, after all.

Pouting vaguely, she sent an uncertain glance to the fearful maid, "Only my whereabouts?"

"Yes, milady." Katerina stated soundly a feeling of quiet relief settled in her stomach as it slowly became clear that Georgiana wouldn't have her dismissed.

To her credit, Georgiana managed to force out a grudgingly sympathetic smile and retort, "He is rather handsome, isn't he?"

Katerina giggled, "If only he didn't know it, milady."

Georgiana hummed in agreement before her smile turned sly and she teased, "Well, we should go get you some of your tea then."

Katerina blinked in shock at the lighthearted dig but found another chuckle escaping as she nodded in agreement. Suddenly, she was rather looking forward to Brandon's encounter with Georgiana. It would be a show, of that the servant was certain.

       ༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺   ༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Charles was beginning to hate the markets.

Admittedly, the last time he had spent any time here was when he had been a boy. It had been a treat then, now his business tended more towards the smiths and cobblers than any of the food stores. He was finding it all very tedious and boring. He had waved off more than one vendor seeking his coin and quickly learned to steer clear of the stalls selling fish and hens – the stench would wake a dead man. Though a particularly good noonday meal was had, when he had discovered where the baker resided. Since then, he had been content to linger near its walls as he carefully scanned the milling crowds.

A little over an hour had passed and he had yet to see either Katerina or the Lady Georgiana. He was beginning to think he had been misled. On the verge of giving up his hunt, Charles wandered from the food stalls toward the blacksmiths. This trip was not to be wasted; he had been meaning to order a new sword for the tournaments and this was as good a time as any.

Of course, it was when he set his sights on new endeavors that his original one came into view. He found Kitty amongst the stalls catering to spices and liniments. Her fiery red hair made her a beacon in the crowd. Quickly, he stepped back amongst the shadows of the booths as he observed her bartering with a merchant for some herbs. He did another scan of the area but saw no courtly lady hovering nearby.

He frowned.

It was possible that Lady Georgiana had changed her mind and had simply sent Katerina in her stead. If that were the case then his time spent milling about had been wasted indeed.

Quietly, he sidled up to Kitty as a small jar of dried leaves was passed to her. She peered up at him in curiosity before a disgruntled frown befell her lips. He tried not to grin at her dour look. Kitty was always fun to tease – her unwillingly willing participation in his games never ceased to amuse him.

"Kitty."

"Mr. Brandon." His name sounded like an epithet from her lips.

He smiled beguilingly, "Where is your mistress?"

Katerina hummed dispassionately under her breath, though a subtle mocking gleam entered her gaze at his question, "She is here, sir."

Charles found himself narrowing his gaze at the servant, "Where, Kitty?"

"Use your eyes, sir." Katerina instructed almost loftily as she placed her jar into the basket she carried, "Surely, your sight is not so bad."

Charles felt his brow furrow as he continued to stare at her, but when she merely blinked at him, he knew he would gain no further help. Stifling an aggravated sigh, he once again looked over the crowds. The finery of court would have caught his attention, but he saw only fellow courtiers that fell into that role. Instead, he began to study every female with a predator-like intensity, all the while he could feel Kitty growing steadily more amused.

He was torn between storming off and demanding her assistance again when a voice chimed at Katerina's side, "Looking for your lost lamb still, Mr. Brandon?"

Katerina bit her lip as Charles's gaze swung around. Georgiana stood next to her with a perfectly innocent expression painting her mien, but that was momentarily lost to Charles as he took in her outfit. She was dressed not too dissimilarly from Katerina and bore no jewelry at all. Her skin was bare and her hair plaited neatly, her only accessory was a silk ribbon. Though a blossomed young woman, she looked every inch of her seventeen years at that moment.

Startled, he inclined his head as he barely remembered his manners, "Lady Georgiana... I almost didn't recognize you."

"I dare say you didn't." Georgiana replied lightly as she passed a parcel of fabric to Katerina, "Nor have you answered my question."

"No..., I supposed I haven't, milady." Charles agreed almost belatedly. He felt off-put and she... she was unsurprised by his presence, "I'm afraid that my lost lamb will remain lost."

Georgiana raised a brow, "How sad for you. Did you need Katerina for something Mr. Brandon? If not, we have more items to gather before the day grows too late."

Charles wasn't sure if Georgiana realized it, but a vague note of haughty disapproval tempered her tone. His lips twitched with a desire to smirk, but he held it at bay. It appeared that Kitty had divulged something of their tryst to the Lady – well that made things more difficult, "Actually, I was seeking your company, milady, but I'm sure you already knew that."

Georgiana tilted her head in acknowledgment, "Something may have been mentioned, though I fail to understand your interest."

Her sea-blue eyes glittered warily and a sense of familiarity washed over him as it had the previous two encounters that he had with the Lady. He swore he knew her and for a fleeting moment he wondered if she was his Charlotte, but her indifference to him had him reconsidering. His little virginal treat had been full of blushes and smothered giggles – he would be hard-pressed to pull those from the tauntingly affable woman before him. Still... it would be interesting to try.

"A beautiful young lady? New to court? I would be remiss not to take an interest." Charles answered genially and wasn't surprised when both women looked unimpressed. It brought a wicked smile to his lips.

"And that lady is engaged, as you well know, sir. Your interest is undue." Georgiana retorted primly and felt her mother beam with pride somewhere. She nearly gagged on her words, but she refused to let Brandon have anything that looked like the upper hand in this conversation. She wasn't sure if it was the fact that she knew he had already found others to warm his bed that pricked her nerve or the fact that the mischievous spark in his eye still sparked her interest. It now seemed intolerable that where he had once seemed dangerous and seductive, he now seemed cocksure and smarmy.

She was overcome with the desire to hit him.

Just once. If only to wipe the knowing smirk from his all too delectable lips.

"And where is your intended? Should he not be attending to you as a dutiful fiancé should?" Charles prodded lightly as he saw an opening in their little tête-à-tête. It was obvious to all that the engagement was arranged, this was no love match, and he sorely doubted that she wished to bed a man thrice her age.

A biting smirk answered him as Georgiana stepped away from Katerina's side and into his space, "As you know, Mr. Brandon, my fiancé holds an important station and has much to do. Though I'm sure his load would be lightened if his lessers performed their courtly duties with the same dedication that you seem to have in finding bedfellows."

A shocked bark of laughter tore from Charles's throat at her boldness, "Who said anything about bedfellows, Lady Georgiana? Surely, you don't think a man's - my interest is purely carnal? I wouldn't think a lady of your standing would have such indecent thoughts. I'm of a mind to demand an apology."

"An apology?" Georgiana proclaimed incredulously.

"For your indecorous assumptions to my character." Charles stated evenly as he turned a pointed stare to her companion, "No doubt influenced by other sources."

"Hardly, and do leave other sources out of this, sir." Georgiana retorted without missing a beat, "But please do tell, what were your saintly intentions?"

Despite her annoyed inflection, Charles could see that she was enjoying this strange battle of wills, and even more strange he was too. She was quick with her sharp words, but she hadn't strayed yet into recklessness. He wanted to push her there.

He allowed a patronizing smile as he answered, "Merely to offer my friendship and guidance, milady. Court can be quite daunting to those who have no experience."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him and Charles wondered how much further he could provoke her before she gave in to her irritation.

Yet, she showed a measure of control that he hadn't expected.

"How kind of you." Georgiana drawled before gesturing to Katerina to continue to the other stalls and stepping back herself. He frowned as she began to make her parting courtesies, "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Brandon. The day grows long and I still have shopping to complete before supper."

"Truly? It looks more like you're running away, milady." Charles taunted and hid a pleased smirk when her back stiffened and she turned to him again.

Her eyes blazed at him as she imitated his mock politeness, "Running away? Oh no, sir, I'm merely letting a little lamb that I unwittingly snared free."

Amusement warred with outrage at her words. He had wanted her reckless, but now he was suddenly so very tempted to throw her over his knee or at the very least teach her to curb her tongue.

His smile turned sharp as he leered over her, "I am no lamb, lady."

"No." She agreed quietly as she registered how close they now stood to each other, "More a wolf in sheep's wool."

As if in agreement with her assessment, a low rumbling growl answered her words as he leant closer still, "I wouldn't bite...much."

His predatory gaze noted that she had begun to faintly tremble as he reached a gentle finger to brush along her cheek. Goosebumps painted her arms at his touch and the shuddering breath she took lighted a fire that traveled straight to his cock. But it was her greenish-blue eyes – eyes that shone with wariness and curiosity, also shone with heady desire. She wanted this. Good...the little minx wasn't nearly as unaffected as she would like to seem.

"I think." Georgiana started somewhat shakily as her soft hand wrapped over his, "I think you would devour me if given half the chance."

He let her pull his hand down from her face and studied her intently. He could see that she was on the edge, but if he pushed too hard then she would fall away from him rather than into him.

Quietly, he asked, "Would that be so bad, milady?"

Georgiana stared at him wide-eyed, "Maybe... it would be trouble. You certainly seem like trouble, Mr. Brandon."

"Careful, Lady, I may extract an apology from you yet."

"I-"

"Lady Georgiana!" Katerina called in the distance like a burst cork from a champagne bottle.

It yanked the couple back to the present and Charles could only watch as she slipped from his grasp.

She pulled her hand from his and he found that he missed its warmth, but he didn't follow after her as she slid back into the crowds like a lovely wraith. His dark blue eyes followed her as she scurried to Katerina's side and dared a timid glance over her shoulder to find him. Her curiosity, wariness, and desire still there, but now muted. His lust burrowed into his veins under that look and was not to be moved.

Yes... yes, he would devour her. The Lady really should know better than to run from a wolf.

       ༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺   ༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Lord Somerset."

Charles looked up from his paperwork and abruptly moved to stand for a bow at the sight of the Queen. He hadn't heard her approach and was mildly surprised to see none of her ladies attending her, "Your Majesty."

She smiled politely and gestured for him to stand properly, "I did not mean to intrude, my Lord."

Somerset frowned with a passing glance at the plans for a tournament that the King wanted to hold. Another costly waste of frivolity in the Chamberlain's opinion, but he was not one to oppose the whims of his monarch. Especially not one as temperamental as Henry. He shook his head gently and offered the Queen a rueful grimace, "Your presence is never an intrusion. Is there something I can help you with, ma'am?"

"Yes, I am holding afternoon tea tomorrow with a few of the ladies of court. I would like it if Lady Georgiana were to attend." Katherine said simply with an expectant look, "It would benefit her to know her peers better, no?"

Somerset smiled at the Queen's graciousness. It would behoove Georgiana to become more familiar with the players at court. She would spend much of her time here in residence with him and having a few allies in place by the time of their wedding would allow for a smoother transition, "That sounds like a splendid idea, Your Majesty. I am to sup with the Stafford family this evening. I will pass along your invitation."

Katherine's smile turned a little more genuine, "I would be most grateful, Lord Somerset. I would have passed on the invitation myself, but it seems that Lady Georgiana is visiting the markets today. Preparing for the wedding, no doubt."

That surprised the Lord Chamberlain, Georgiana had shown only the minimal amount of interest on their impending marriage. Not that he blamed the poor girl, but he had been under the assumption that her mother would make the majority of the arrangements. His heart lightened slightly at the thought of her becoming more involved. It showed at least a cursory acceptance of her fate... He truly did need to spend more time with her.

Realizing that he hadn't answered the Queen, he smiled pleasantly, "I'm sure, ma'am. There is much to do before the month is out."

Katherine almost seemed to hesitate as she studied the Earl. She was not one to meddle in the affairs of court, unless those affairs somehow affected her and her family, but she would also be remiss not to speak plainly, "Yes, I can imagine. Lady Georgiana showed her grace and obedience well before my husband...but tell me, Lord Somerset, do you know if she is truly happy with this match?"

Charles was hardly surprised by her question, much like Henry he had seen her glimmer of disapproval at the marriage announcement, "In truth, your majesty, I do not know. I have only been presented with her grace and obedience, as well. She doesn't seem to have any objections."

"That is not the same as being content, my Lord." Katherine stated sagely, "She is young and still has much to learn of this world. I would like you to remember that."

A strange mix of chastened and vague amusement welled up in Somerset at the Queen's subtle lecture. A complacent expression crossed his features as he sought the words to placate her, "I shall, ma'am. My Elizabeth, God rest her, was a boon to me in many ways that I didn't expect of a wife. She was my friend. I hope for much the same from Georgiana."

Something softened in the Queen at his quiet confession. She nodded her head understanding, while she had barely known the late Lady Somerset, she had known of her integral role in her husband's work. Katherine could only hope that Henry would one day feel the same of her. Lately, the hopeful shine in the King's icy gaze had been replaced by resigned disappointment. She hated that look.

Drawing a breath, she decided her meddling in this particular affair was at an end, "I shall let you return to your work. Have a good night, my Lord."

"You as well, Your Majesty." Somerset intoned as he watched her sweep from the room.

He pondered for a brief moment over whether Georgiana could count the Queen as one of her courtly allies...

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[thetorturerwrites]

Lamb Ch 7 - Ten Words

***This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @elmidol​​. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

Previous Chapter

Summary: At the mouth of his keep, the gaping maw carved into the side of a mountain, you stopped short of crossing the threshold. You folded your arms about your middle and chewed your upper lip, even taking a step back from it. He had reacted so violently to your original request that you, smartly, found this to be a dubious decision. It would surprise no part of you that he brought you here to test you, to see just how much of an idiot you still could be. Unsettled, you glued your eyes to the ground.

His voice, subtler than before and less agitated, broke through your anxious diatribe, and he tucked his hand beneath your upper arm and squeezed.“You wanted to go outside.”

Word Count: 4.5k

Dear Nona

I miss you more than I can say.  I’ve done something stupid, and I desperately need your guidance. It all started in Chandrila…

Sharing your troubles with Nona had always been your way of untangling the web, of shining a light on your confusion and turning it to the known.  But she wasn’t here. All you had was stolen paper and ink that smelled like ash.  For pages and pages, you poured out the details of your predicament until, finally, clarity sprung up from the dirty cobwebs of chaos. Leaf by leaf, it blossomed, sweeping away your doubt. Surprised by yourself, and this newfound understanding, you stared at the empty door frame in complete silence.

You couldn’t say how much time passed in your fugue, only that this world matched your quiet, lending weight to what you felt was a profound knowing, an awareness you previously lacked.

It wasn’t until the King of this sleepy hollow appeared in the doorway that you blinked. Silent as the grave himself, he saturated you with his assessing stare. Tainted by the cool calculation, the omnipresent dislike he seemed to have for your human frailty, your blood thickened, sending a thrum to even the furthest reaches of your body.

It took him only a single stride to cross to the foot of the bed; and once made, it took only the span of his arm to reach you at the bed’s top. Wrapping exacting fingers around your ankle, he dragged you through paper, ink, and bedsheets until you sat at the foot, legs parted on either side of his wide body, back arched, and face tipped up by a knuckle at your chin.

“Clothes. Paper.” He rubbed at your mouth with his thumb, chiding you in a way you didn’t think should be so arousing. “What will you steal next, hm?”

You rolled your lips together because he wasn’t wrong. Everything you’d collected in your time here belonged to him; all of it snuck in his absences. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, your mother always said, but you weren’t so certain of that tactic here. Permission wasn’t something The Ren gave easily. Nor forgiveness.

“It was a test, wasn’t it?”

You hadn’t planned to answer his question that way, and your jaw snapped shut so hard you winced. Even knowing how much he disliked it when you answered a question with a question, your brain still fired a mile a minute, tumbling over itself.

His shifting gaze darkened, but an amused smirk played at his plump lips, accompanied by the lift of one eyebrow. He was humoring you; you knew the signs now. You lifted your chin away from his fingers and looked at the mass of his chest, brow furrowed.

“You thought taking me to that hilltop would kill me,” you nodded as though you still puzzled your way through it all, “Because I’m not like you. That’s why you said I could have died.”

You chewed your cheek for a moment and carried on, absently toying with his shirttail as though he was your partner, your lover, rather than your gatekeeper, your captor. Your eyes trailed to the trickle at your forearm, to the spell he put upon you to keep you suspended in this new dimension of being and not.

“That’s why everything here is dangerous to me.”

Dissatisfied with the absence of your gaze, he tangled long fingers into your hair and, with a harsh grip, bowed you back so you were forced to look at him, so your chest grazed at his belly. Undaunted, you clung to him and rushed on. You weren’t sure if he would tell you, but the only way to know was to ask.

“And whatever you’ve been feeding me,” you licked your lips at the memory of that seductively sweet taste you’d had just yesterday, “Made it so I didn’t. Right? But you weren’t sure it would work.”

You knew he could see the last bit clawing at the inside of your brain, knew it painted your features. Holding your head hostage, he traced the obsidian collar around your neck slowly, pointedly, as though to mark the arc death would take in slicing open your neck.

“Go on.” He shook your head slightly, as though to rattle your mind into functioning. “Say it.”

You gulped hard when his finger rested against your pulse. It hammered furiously, and you could feel it in your temples, chinking away at your ability to think. When the words came, they rode a whisper laden with uncertainty, upheaval.

“And you wouldn’t fuck me until you knew I wouldn’t die.”

His eyes flitted from you to the mess of parchment and blotchy words strewn across his bed.  “Figured out the cosmos, have we, lamb?” 

“No.” Foolishly, you interrupted whatever he may have said next, but you shook your head in his grip anyway, keeping your eyes upon his contemplative features. “Just my place in it.” You gripped the black fabric at his hips, leaning into him for support.  “For now.”

Wisely, you stayed still, watching him as he evaluated you. His eyes darted from your wrinkled brow to your mouth. Then, lower to the dip of your throat. You wanted him to kiss you, as though he could taste your truthfulness on your tongue. You were far from knowing his capabilities, and your brow furrowed more when an additional question took root.

His entertained smirk turned mocking, judging as he watched it play across your face. For a second, you thought he’d answered your question with his features alone, that he truly could read your thoughts. If that were true, though, he’d surely have killed you before now for any of the unpleasantness you’d thought about him in your time here.

Casting off those thoughts, you winced and tried to back away from how his menacingly large body leaned at you. You reached up to wrap both hands around his wrist, needing the leverage as you tried to twist out of his grasp, but it was useless. He planted his knee on your groin, leaned his weight onto you, and pinned you like a bug beneath a magnifying glass.

It was both exhilarating and horrifying. His nearness, the perfection of his physique made your mouth water, your guts boil. But his very existence, his purpose, laced your every breath with fear. You never forgot that he could do away with you at any time, at any whim. Displease him enough and you would no longer be in the middle. You would lose your family to the ravages of time, with no one to remember them at all.

“There’s no hiding from me here.” His voice was gravel, all hard edges and ire. “Speak.”

His command, no different from what you’d give a pet, earned an annoyed snort on your part. Instantly, regret hit you like a freighter.  You clapped both hands over your mouth and wildly shook your head as though to convince him the act hadn’t been real. His narrow eyes and gritted teeth telegraphed enough for you to whimper, just like that frightened pet, and vault into begging.

“Nono!” You pressed at his chest urgently, pounding your fists against living granite. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! PleaseIdidn’tmeanitI’llbegood!”

“How many more times will you say it for it to be true?”

The corners of your mouth turned down; you could feel it. You couldn’t disagree. How many times had Nona chastised you for heeding your mother’s words? Forgiveness; not permission. Your lips wobbled. Your chin quivered. Dread weighted your voice.

“I’m sorry.” You splayed both hands across his pectorals, trying to not get caught up because, in fact, you felt a very muted, very slow pulse. “I’m trying to be good. You…” Mashing your lips together, you sniffled and stole a minute to figure out what to say next. “You’re not supposed to be real.”

But you are, you thought. You are, and you think I’m an idiot, and nothing I do will be right.

You hoped that it conveyed enough, that you wouldn’t have to say ‘I’m trying not to die every second I am here.’ You hoped that your face showed him you stayed here with him despite your fear, that the caress of your open hands told him your fight-or-flight response was dampened into delay.

Perhaps it was the pitiful look in your eye; or perhaps it was the tremble of your mouth that gave him pause. That ever-scrutinizing gaze bored into you for the longest of moments; and then, he stood up so abruptly you fell back against the mattress with a surprised huff.

Onto the bed next to you fell the cloak you wore at the battlefield and a pair of heavy, black boots.  You didn’t dare make a move and waited for him to say something, to give you any sign or instruction. But he sucked all the air out of the room with his preternatural calmness, and you realized he was waiting for you to obey the unspoken command and dress.

Taking a deep breath, and then another, you plucked one boot up into unsteady fingers and bent forward to shove your foot into it. A wholly unladylike grunt popped free as you tugged on the sides to get your heel in. Blowing hair away from your face, you worked for what felt like an eternity to lace the damn thing up your calf. By the time you finished with the second, you were lightheaded, sweaty, and irritated.

“The last time you ventured out,” he admonished, “You inserted yourself into a thorny bush.”

His rebuke caused your nose to wrinkle. The last time you were out, you didn’t venture. He threw you out, but arguing with a deity for a second time in an hour struck you as too much of a bad idea. You hoped he didn’t see the flash of anger in your eye as you turned, shucked the sweater, and shook out the cloak.

Before you could wrap the thing around your shoulders, you felt his fingers dance up the column of your spine. Clad in nothing but the clunky black boots, you swallowed hard as he turned you and tilted your face again. He hooked a finger into your collar and hefted you up so far you pranced on your toes, toppling into him with no balance. Naked save for his ownership and boots, your body warmed, rising to even this simple demand.

“So angry.” His voice slid like velvet, and you breathed gratitude that his annoyance had abated at least this bit. As your features eased and lips parted, he dipped his thumb into your mouth briefly, toying with the end of your tongue. “Better.”

It took every ounce of your willpower to not pout like a child. You even bit down on your lip to keep it from subconsciously poking out. Instead, you swept your lashes down to cover the tempest of feeling swirling there and waited for whatever came next. Setting you back on flat feet, he tugged the cloak around you with deft hands and buttoned it — much the way he did the first time, as though he were wrapping you up for his own delight.

Which may very well be true.

Unlike before, he didn’t throw you through the rooms or jostle you down the corridors. Rather, he walked on ahead and expected that you would follow. You ran to keep up with him, discomfited by the echo of your boots in the hallways whereas his made no sound at all. It was always off putting because a man so large should not be so stealthy.

At the mouth of his keep, the gaping maw carved into the side of a mountain, you stopped short of crossing the threshold. You folded your arms about your middle and chewed your upper lip, even taking a step back from it. He had reacted so violently to your original request that you, smartly, found this to be a dubious decision. It would surprise no part of you that he brought you here to test you, to see just how much of an idiot you still could be. Unsettled, you glued your eyes to the ground.

His voice, subtler than before and less agitated, broke through your anxious diatribe, and he tucked his hand beneath your upper arm and squeezed.

“You wanted to go outside.”

He tugged you through the opening and out into the ever-present twilight. At his side, you realized you held your breath. Releasing it, you stared up at him, stupefied.  You thought you should say something, but he pulled you further down the path, and you forgot what it might have been.

Rather than take you back the way you’d come, back towards the spot of your enslavement, The Ren led you onto a new path, one carpeted with forest green moss and decorated by trees overrun with climbing ivy, oak, sumac, and something else you couldn’t name, though it tingled at the edge of your brain.  

You hadn’t yet burst into flames, which was such a pleasing development that you allowed yourself to enjoy the scenery unfolding before you, albeit with trepidation.

Booted as you were, it wasn’t long before you ventured off of the path he leisurely strolled to investigate something hidden beneath a fallen branch or to find out what color that pretty flower was up close. He schooled you repeatedly to not touch that, be careful that one has thorns, or no you can’t taste that fruit.

It was pleasant, almost amiable; and soon, softened by the surrounding nature, you babbled at him, not sure if he was listening. You told him about the time you fell into nettles because you were curious and didn’t know what they were. And then you told him about the time you nearly poisoned your entire family when you mistook white dandelions for hogweed and made tea. 

Poised atop a rock, you looked upwards at winking stars and mused out loud that he must be right. Nona called you a curious child, but your mother spent many nights exasperated by your pursuits, though it was her lesson that molded you.

You grew so accustomed to the sound of your voice bouncing off of the trees that when he answered one of your queries, you froze. At some point, your wonder-filled monologue became laced with questions — most of which he ignored.  He answered this one, though, and the honeyed timbre vibrated in your bones.

“It’s a neurotoxin.”

An entire minute passed wherein you could only blink because you’d forgotten what you asked. Your stare swiveled from him to the tree and back again; but finally, it registered. You asked him what was the sticky stuff you could see weeping from the bark.  Canting your head, you nodded at the tree as though it had given you the answer itself when, in truth, you counted your blessings you hadn’t popped a finger through what you’d thought was molasses.

On you walked, and on you babbled.  Once he answered the first question, though, the trip morphed into nothing but.  Some he scoffed at; some he answered. He told you there were no animals here because it required his brother to breathe in life. From the tone of his voice, you inferred that having Solo here was not a joyous occasion.  He created this place, he said, to pass the time between reapings, but also because Solo’s universe was too bright, too loud.  He wanted something calm, something apart.

He cultivated fatal things, he said, because they were always the most beautiful, the most interesting.

Plucking something deep purple from a bush, he held out what looked to be a small blueberry. You blanched. Everything here was deadly; he’d spent this entire walk telling you not to touch or taste anything. And though you hadn’t entirely listened to what he told you, this screamed danger. Surely, it was another test.

His bass chuckle licked at your eardrums, melting your resolve. If he told you to drink hemlock, you knew you would.

Gingerly, you opened your mouth for him to deposit the thing and, ever so slowly, chewed it, waiting for it to kill you. Instead, the berry burst, an explosion of flavor. It was sweet with just the right amount of tart. The juice lingered on your tongue, and you hopped from one foot to the other with outright glee at how damn good it tasted.

He gave you a second one, if only to prevent you from diving headfirst into the lot, and turned you around with a swat to your ass, sending you forward on the path before you could ask him why you never felt hungry here. Around the next bend lay a thicket of reeds, whistling gently in the breeze that never died away. Straying from the road yet again, you brushed your hands through the inky stalks and rubbed at the cream-colored knuckles, appreciating how something so rigid, so fixed, could bend and sway with the wind.

 Humming softly, you closed your eyes and listened to their tune, losing track of even yourself in the angelic melody.

“Pick one.”

Your nose tugged up again at the idea that you’d have to taste it, but you didn’t argue. Looking around, you settled on a middling reed, neither too fat nor too thin. You could see now that they weren't black but rather a purple deeper than you'd ever seen. The hue of bruise, your subconscious offered.

Twisting the thing free from its base, you carried it back to him and offered it up. When your hand raised, he wrapped a long bit of vine around your wrist; and before you could register what happened, he lashed both arms together.

In less time than it took you to lace your boots, he had you bound face-first to a thick tree. 

You wanted to stomp and cry, to demand that he tell you what this was for because you tried so hard to be good. You hadn’t even touched anything until he said you could! Except you couldn’t say that for sure. So eager were you to explore and find new things, you didn’t remember if you waited for his clearance.

Forgiveness; not permission. Except in this case, punishment.

Finally making a better choice, you kept your mouth shut and turned away. Nothing mattered here except for his will, his desires.

“How many words did you disobey, little lamb? On that hilltop.”

Your head whipped around, and any color left in your face drained away. Realization dawned, and your eyes suddenly ached with disappointment.  This was all a ruse, a ploy, a beautiful lie.  He used your desire to be outside, to learn and discover against you so he could bring you here to discipline you.

Worse, he made you fetch your own fucking switch for it.

Air stuck in your throat, clinging to your windpipe like glue. You understood what the reed was for now, and your furtive glance saw him testing its resilience. 

You knew that if you answered wrong, or if you guessed, he would likely beat you until you couldn’t stand. But if you got it right, if your answer pleased him, maybe you escaped only abused rather than obliterated. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, willing your addled brain to remember. As best you could, you replayed the events of that day, that battle, that hilltop.

Stay here, he said. Touch nothing; speak to no one. Eight words.

You lifted your gaze to his and opened your mouth to speak, the rushed answer on the tip of your tongue. But a bell chimed in your head, and you licked at your front teeth, replaying everything again. His hand came to the back of your neck, his patience running out.

“Ten,” you said, breathless and anxious.

Ten words. Stay here. Touch nothing. Speak to no one. Stay here.

He said it twice.

Satisfied, he leaned in to nudge his nose at your temple. “Good girl.”

His wide hands roamed your body, shifting the cloak out of the way so your lower half was on lewd display. The cool wind whipped at your bare ass and slithered between your legs, eliciting a whimper. Caught somewhere between aroused anticipation and outright dread, you forced yourself to be still, to not twist in the bonds and beg him for a favor he surely did not possess.

The first hit came on a startling whistle. You hardly heard it before pain set fire to your backside, a sizzling stripe that radiated from the surface of your skin inwards. You yelped but kept yourself upright, though surged onto your toes.

Chastising yourself for thinking he might allow you to prepare, you settled your weight back down gingerly. There was no tenderness here, no warm up, no waiting for your readiness.  This was pure sanction, penance for your nonsense.

“The first. What was it?”

You cringed, shaking your head between your arms. You’d rather he asked you to count; but no, he wanted you to castigate yourself, to punctuate just how disobedient you’d been. Your eyes glossed over, slammed shut to keep the tide at bay. You swallowed sawdust, defeated.

“Stay.”

The word barely left your mouth before the second strike fell, just as shocking as the first. Clenching your teeth, you gouged craters into your palms with how hard you tried to not tremble.

“Here.”

Contented that you at least understood the point, that you worked out what you should say, he reached out to scratch at your fiery skin. He cupped one ass cheek, squeezing and lifting, but you only ground your jaw, rubbing your nose to stem the sniffling. His murmuring was lost to your dizziness as the next hit fell so hard your guts, your cunt, your thighs clenched.

“T-touch,” your voice was only a warble now, barely complying around a sob. The reed crashed down again, pulling a loud wail from the center of your chest. “Nothing.”

You dissolved into sobs, unable to even apologize through tears and hiccups. Your backside blazed from sacrum to kneecaps. Your ass swelled and throbbed and stung. You clawed away bark and debris until your fingertips and nails were raw and ruddy, but you didn’t care. All you could think was you were only halfway through this torment, and you would not make it to the end.

Your body screamed that you should beg, supplicate, and seek forgiveness; but once today already, you fumbled through an apology. Whatever mercy there may be in The Ren, it was not for this. Not for you.

Lost to your internal war, he took advantage of how little you paid attention and delivered a blow to your ass with the palm of his mighty hand. It landed with such force you screamed, knees buckling. He didn’t give you time to do your part, to speak the word, instead choosing to wind his free hand into your hair so tightly you heard some of it pull free. He drug you back onto your feet only to knock the wind out of you with another punch to the opposite cheek. You howled for him to stop, pleaded on broken sobs, but he walloped you another two times — one to each side — before letting you fall against the tree.

You shook so hard your teeth clattered. Damp from head to toes, you decided you must have lost control of your bladder because your thighs were wet, and your pussy felt loose and pliant. Although you were certain he didn’t hit you anywhere close to what he could have, you gripped your bond until your fingers bled. Thrown directly into the center of shock, any tears you had for him fled, chased away by the rush of thunder that was your erratic heartbeat.

Demanding, he snatched up your face, gouging at your jaws with his stony digits. Astonishingly, you produced what he waited for in a hoarse croak.

“Speak to no one.”

He spun you, shoved your back into the tree trunk, and ripped your lovely cloak to shreds. It hung in tatters, revealing your sweaty, shivering skin to his gaze, a gaze that roved each individual inch of you, taking in just how pitifully you swayed in the face of his lesson. He cupped your face and leaned in, drawing a deep breath to enjoy the scent of your fear.

“What’s left, lamb?”

Your eyes hurt; your lip bled. Your nose felt two sizes two big, and your voice was broken and labored. But his hand at your cheek soothed you. It was cool against your feverish flesh, steady against the tornado raging inside. He stroked your hips, fondled your breasts, pinched the welts he raised. 

“S-stay h-here.”

Crowding into you, he licked at your dry, cracked mouth and ran his fingers along your belly, down to graze at your sticky thighs. You burned with humiliation as he tutted to find dampness there, thinking you sealed your fate as his forever childling with how you managed to wet yourself when he beat you. But when he brushed his thumb along your lower lip, it wasn’t urine you tasted. It was the tang of your cunt, the tart lubrication you certainly didn’t remember producing.

He basked in your confusion, your fear and pain. He reveled in the way your thighs squeezed together, the way your tongue darted out to taste where his had been. You saw it in his face, the nearly human way he devoured you with those chameleon eyes.

When he kissed you, your head spun at the delirious taste of his mouth. You stood onto your toes to get closer to him, to kiss him again, but he buried his face into the crook of your neck, bit hard at your thumping vein, and whispered in your ear.

“Try to be good this time.”

And then he was gone.

You blinked hard, set atremble by the implication of his words. If you knew better, you would have wrapped your legs around his broad hips, clung to him with every ounce of your strength to beg that he not do this. If your brain worked faster, you’d have pleaded, promised him a hundred babies, a thousand years in captivity.

But none of it mattered.

He left you lashed to a tree, terrified and alone in a land of poison.

You did the only thing you could think of, the only thing that would provide even a hint of comfort.

You prayed.

May I be shelter for those who need shelter, A guide for those who seek Balance, A bridge for those who wish to cross the unknown.

May I be a beacon in the dark, A shoulder for the weary, A balm for those who are ill.

May I be a well of plenty, a river run deep, A sturdy plain, an unbroken path, a calm in the storm.

May I endure heartache and sorrow, Love and devotion, Want and need, That I may know our Fathers in heaven And join them in the middle way. 

[ladysunbite]

@fallesto || continued from x The disease was just a cloak and the old man had shed it as easily. The legs bore his wiry frame well and the weapon was steady in his hand. Orianna had no doubts that Sparrowhawk had a keen eye for such details. What the red-haired Jarl's daughter had probably missed, beneath the mire, blood and recent tears on Eric's cheeks was...insanity. His bloodflow was unsteady, ruptured like a boat cracked by a vile storm. A mere plaything to something stronger than itself. A poison? the scent was annoyingly familiar, yet she couldn't put her claw on it. The dagger worried her but slightly; it would require a very full swing of a heavier weapon to send her into an oblivion of regeneration. A wound - even to a throat, was but a nuisance. But a seasoned warrior seeing her skin sewing itself into perfection in a matter of seven-breaths or so would be a problem. Killing Cerys an Craite seemed both desperate, unpolite and messy. She would rather not do it. Therefore, instead of striking, she stood and listened, trying to look as meek as a lamb. "Fight you?" Eric shrieked, and she squinted. The sound was unpleasant. Ragged. Hysterical at most. The buzz of it seemed to hazen and confuse her thoughts. She had almost raised her hand to cover her eyes, as was her habit when tired. "I care nothing for glory of battles...unless it's a battle with death. You..." the anger and madness seemed to sip from his voice as quickly as they gripped it. "...you wouldn't understand." As if there wasn't a warrior standing at the threshold, as if the crime wasn't fresh on his hands - all that spilled blood shierking, screaming - Eric spoke, clear and without any heed for secrecy. Now it was only for her. "I would die, if not for your benevolence long ago. You...you saved me from death. Taught me how to survive. No matter what or where. Lady Orianna, you would understand what I have to do. You always told us that the world isn't inherently cruel. It is merely perfecting itself. That's why we should learn as much as we can. I am doing only what the world intended. You would understand. I tried to drink the blood of the children, a little at first, like you...I tried to be careful and kind, but it didn't..." The rest was but an incoherent whisper of the waves to her ears, drowned under one realization. At last she had recognized what was the scent that irked her so. The knife, the blade meant nothing. It was the handle. Sharpened by a hand that bore a clear intention. Dimeritium! By the Elder...how? The handle was inside her heart, pinning her to the rough wooden wall like an intricate otherworldly butterfly, the crimson tresses covering her beastial face, that under an acute pain knew no more restrain. She couldn't even turn back into a human form. Couldn't shift into a mist. All that her body instinctively managed, before being imprisoned by the only material of this world that could contain a higher vampire, was to let out the claws. Trashing and enraged into a stupor of a fury by the pain she tried to impale the enemy in front of her. "I...I need your blood, lady Orianna. It's the only cure against death. All your blood. Forgive me, forgive me, my lady," the human trembled and muttered some words. But nothing held a meaning to her now except a wine of wrath, that her broken body craved. Get...it...OUT! Blood... Blood...will banish...the pain. Keep her head clear... The suneyed vampiress gave out a sharp wail that echoed inside the very marrow of lesser beings, awakening the oldest feeling. Fear. A desire to fled. A desire survive, that appeared before the language or logic did.

[thwip--thwip]

5, 12, and 44 😈 ILU

Did you used to get things as a child when you screamed? I’ll let you know right now that it’s not going to help you here.

You’re in a well? Is it more like the Buffalo Bill one or the Samara one?

This joke goes beyond practical and far into sadistic territory. 

This…got out of control so fast. Enjoy your 2.5k O:

Tony has to admit, this wasn’t how he saw his day going.

Things had been going just fine, business-as-usual; he had taken Peter Christmas shopping, which was no small affair. Normally, Tony wouldn’t be braving the veritable throngs of wailing children and exhausted parents just for a 20% deal on a pair of socks (seriously? 20% was the best they could do?), but when he’d said as much with an offhand quip about shopping online, Peter had regarded him more seriously than he’d anticipated.

“Christmas gifts need to come from the heart, Mr. Stark.”

How a blender you bought at Macy’s had more heart than a blender you bought online, Tony didn’t know (maybe it had something to do with the number of people you had to elbow out of the way?), but he also thinks it’s because Peter is insistent on spending his own money. Tony would much rather the kid use it to take his girlfriend out (he’d come back from the disaster of a trip with a girlfriend, and while it wasn’t quite worth the panic and terror of watching Spiderman take down a madman in a literal London blitz, Tony had to admit, Peter was being adorable about the whole thing).

Regardless, they’re perusing through the JCPenny perfume section (Tony told him not to buy MJ a fragrance, but did Peter listen? It looks like he might, though, because so far he hasn’t liked any of the scents, nose wrinkling more and more with each spritz) when everything goes to hell.

Peter cringes a full two seconds before the first explosion hits, tackling Tony out of the way as the storefront windows blow out. They land hard, skidding across the tile until Peter stops them by a clearance rack. The kid’s already up on one knee, and he makes eye contact with Tony for the briefest instant before he’s up and running for the dressing rooms.

“Kid - “ Tony starts, but Peter’s already gone. Spiderman swings out not three seconds later (was he wearing the suit under his clothes), launching himself into the mall proper.

Tony doesn’t have the suit. Tony doesn’t have the suit. He knew something like this was likely to happen eventually - he still has his watch, a few tricks on the new prosthetic arm he’s wearing - but his heart can’t take the kind of stress the Iron Man suit requires. It’s the first time he’s been caught in a situation like this since Thanos, and it’s panic-inducing, dizzyingly so - especially when Peter jumps right into action with no back-up.

Tony swallows down the tightness in his chest (no panic attack, not right now, chill the fuck out) and gets his feet under him, heading towards the chaos. People are running for cover, screaming - Santa bolts towards the FYE, beard flying off and landing somewhere on the floor behind him.

“Gobby, we talked about this!” Peter sails overhead, swinging around a column and trying to kick the Green Goblin off his glider. He aborts the move at the last second, while the Goblin swings at him with what looks like a sword. “Do you want to make the naughty list three years in a row?”

Gobby cackles in a way that makes the hair on Tony’s remaining arm stand up on end, gnashing his teeth, and he zooms after Peter, launching another handful of pumpkin bombs at the kid.

There’s a man throwing bombs at his kid.

“FRIDAY, get us some back-up here,” Tony instructs the AI through his watch, though he’s sure she’s already put in the necessary calls. It still doesn’t make it any easier, watching Peter dance and dodge out of the Goblin’s way (barely, barely, every time is a razor’s edge to pure disaster). Tony moves to help a few people up off the ground, keeping an eye on the fight the whole time - the atrium is nearly empty, thankfully, shoppers having dashed for the cover of the stores.

Another bomb goes off - this time, part of the ceiling goes with it. A sizeable chunk hits Peter as he’s trying to swing away from it, and sends him sprawling. It’s not enough to seriously hurt him (Tony doesn’t think), but it still makes his heart leap up into his throat. Either way, the second of distraction is all it takes for Goblin to end up on top of him.

“I’ve got you now, little spider,” Goblin snarls, one hand wrapped around Peter’s throat, and Tony sees red.

“Hey douchecanoe!” Tony yells, drawing attention to himself. The man’s head snaps up, crazed eyes zeroing in on Tony. “Yeah, I’m talking to you!”

“Mr. Stark - “ Peter starts with a cough, but Goblin is already laughing again - crazily, maddeningly, and Tony doesn’t even have enough time to react. Peter goes flying - Goblin throws him through the Urban Outfitters window in an ostentatious display of broken glass and hipster scarves - and the villain is on Tony in the next instant.

“Hello Mr. Stark,” Goblin giggles, grabbing him bodily and zooming upwards, towards the caved in part of the ceiling. “Fancy seeing you here!”

Tony tries to activate his watch so he can blast this asshole to kingdom come, but the Goblin’s fist comes down on his face, and Tony’s world is enveloped in swift darkness.

***

He wakes up to screaming.

“LET ME OUT! HEY! LET ME OUT!”

Tony groans and winces as he opens his eyes - at least it’s relatively dark, so he doesn’t have to worry about light fucking with his probably-a-concussion - but jesus, the screams are loud and panicked. Whoever it is doesn’t seem to have noticed Tony’s awake just yet, yelling upwards towards -

Huh. They’re in some kind of a hole, which looks to be too deep to climb out of. Great.

“Did you used to get things as a child when you screamed?” Tony grumbles, and the yells cut off abruptly as the person turns to look at him, startled. “I’ll let you know right now, that’s not going to help here.”

“You’re - holy shit, you’re Tony Stark.” His vision focuses in on his fellow prisoner - he looks like he’s Peter’s age, maybe, with thickset eyebrows and curly, dark hair. Tony pushes himself up into a sitting position, back to the (damp) wall, and he bites back another wince when he touches the tender spot on the back of his head, and his hand comes away bloody. Great.

“The one and only. And you are?” Tony glances down at his watch, which is still on his wrist. Goblin, what a dumbfuck - or probably just overly cocky, the prick. He pulls up the hologram and starts executing commands to find out where he is, and to alert the appropriate people.

“Flash, uh, sir. Flash Thompson.” Flash stutters, and Tony spares a second to look at him dubiously (what? Comedic timing waits for no Goblin-related-emergency.)

“Seriously?” Flash nods, eyes wide, and Tony frowns. The name is a) stupid, but b) sounds oddly familiar. His attention is diverted by a chirp from his watch - a location lock, distress signal sent. They’ll be out of here in no time at all. “Well…citizen, no need to worry. Help is on the - Christ.”

There’s an incoming call from SPIDERMAN flashing on the watch’s projection, and Tony pulls it up, careful to hit audio only. “Talk to me, kid.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter’s relief pitches his voice high, almost a little shrill, coming through the speakers, and Tony dials it down a notch on the volume. “Oh my God, you’re alive!”

“Thought you could get rid of me that easily? I’m disappointed, I thought I taught you better than that.” Tony barely resists the urge to smile when that comment gets a relieved laugh out of Peter, which echoes against the walls of their pit. He’s too aware of his audience, though - Flash, staring at him from the corner - so he tries not to let the worry seep through too much. “Are you okay?”  

“Me? I’m fine,” Peter rushes out, as if the last time Tony saw him, he hadn’t had Goblin’s fingers wrapped around his neck in a chokehold. “Are you okay? He turned on his cloaking tech before I could get after you.”

“I’m fine.” Peter made a skeptical noise at the back of his throat, and Tony bit his tongue to stop from bantering with him - one dubious look at Flash kept it under wraps (the kid wasn’t even trying to hide his blatant interest). “You’ve got my location lock?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way.” Tony opened his mouth to protest, but even without seeing him, Peter must have known what he was going to say because he hurried to continue. “Falcon is en route, but I’m closer.”

“Just be careful,” Tony grumbles to himself, concealing a wince when he rubs at the back of his head. “Could be a trap. He’s got us in a well.”

“Sorry,” Tony can hear the shit-eating grin in Peter’s voice and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t roll them up to the heavens. “Did you just say you’re in a well?”

“Yes I did, and I’d very much appreciate it if I wasn’t anymore.” It’s the closest Tony can get to threatening; Flash looks like he’s about to wet himself with excitement, and the starstruck novelty is beginning to wear off.

“Is it more like the Buffalo Bill well or the Samara well?” Yet again, Tony has to bite his tongue before he can ask what the hell are you doing watching Silence of the Lambs, you’re eleven. All of this holding back is just stockpiling for later. “It rubs the lotion on it’s skin - ”

“Is that Spiderman?” Flash whispers, way too loudly, inching closer. Tony fixes him with his second most intimidating stare, but the kid must be brave (or just stupid), because he’s insistent. “I’m his number one fan.”

“Mr. Stark? Is there someone there with you?”

“Yeah, Gobby’s got a kid here - why are you here, anyway?” A detail he skipped over before, but what is Flash to the Green Goblin? Flash puffs out his chest, looking far too proud.

“I’m Spiderman’s biggest fan! Spiderman - I’m your biggest fan!”

“Yeah, I got that part.” Peter sounds confused, and Tony’s kind of starting to wish he hadn’t woken up. Unconsciousness is pretty blissful, turns out. “Maybe Gobby got jealous. He’s always wanted to be president of my fanclub.”

“You have a fanclub?” Flash says - no, demands - in a way that suggests ‘Spiderman Fan Club’ will be the first thing he Googles as soon as they’re out of this hole. Tony pinches the bridge of his nose - this joke has moved swiftly beyond ‘practical’ and is making a play as far into ‘sadistic’ as possible. Then again, what was Tony expecting from a shopping trip with Peter?

“Shit.” Peter says, half a second before an explosion ends their phone call. Tony doesn’t even have time to react, because the reverberations from said explosion shake the entire well (hole? pit?), and Flash starts screaming again.

“HELP, SOMEBODY HELP! SPIDERMAN HELP ME!”

Flash gets his wish - a web comes out of nowhere and latches onto Flash’s shirt, and the kid is gone before Tony can blink. He starts to stand up, words already forming. “Don’t you dare - “

“Yoink!” Tony’s flying upwards before he can finish the sentence, which he leaves half-formed somewhere at the bottom of the stupid well (along with his stomach). Tony grabs on for dear life, and Peter catches him around the waist, hoisting him under one arm.

“I hate that you said ‘yoink’ out loud. Absolutely disgusting.” Tony feels his stomach swoop as Peter swings them over a mountain of debris and out an opening Tony is very sure they won’t fit through - but somehow, they manage. “Where’s our friend?”

“Who, Flash?” Peter doesn’t sound winded at all, even though they’re booking it down the street, arcing into the next side street. “I tossed him to Falcon.”

“You know that kid?” Suddenly, it clicks. “Wait, that was the shithead whose been giving you a hard time?”

“Aw, man.” Peter groans, torquing them in another direction. “I never should have introduced you to Ned.”

“What - Peter! I wasn’t even - I wanted to know where the Goblin was!”

An explosion that is far too close for comfort answers that question for him, and Peter lets out a yelp as they execute a nausea-inducing maneuver to dodge out of Gobby’s way. Tony hears the high-pitched laughter behind them, and Peter switches Tony to his other arm as he tries to get away.

“I have had enough of this chucklefuck,” Tony growls, and he’s serious. Between the Midtown housewives elbowing them out of the way of the sale racks and Goblin dropping him in the bottom of a well, he’s fed up with today. “Peter. Throw me at him.”

“What?” Goblin throws another pumpkin bomb, and Tony can’t even feel whether or not it singes over how angry he is. “What do you mean throw you at him?”

“I meant what I said, and I said what I meant.” Tony clenches and unclenches his metal fist; he might not be Iron Man anymore, but he’s not dead.

“An elephant’s faithful, one hundred percent.” Peter finishes with a snicker, because of course Tony couldn’t sneak anything by him. “You just want me to chuck you?”

“With a little more precision, yeah. Throw me at him, and when I get him off that knockoff hoverboard, catch me.” Peter only hesitates a half a second before he nods, directing them into a wide arc as he swings back around to face the Goblin. Goblin is behind them, swerving jerkily in the air, in all his teeth-gnashing glory, and Tony curls his hand into a fist.

“One, two - “ Peter throws him on three, and Tony has the satisfaction of watching Goblin’s eyes widen in surprise for the briefest instant - because who would suspect Tony using himself as a projectile, truly? He tries to swerve out of the way, but Tony grabs the end of his hoverboard and yanks, throwing him off balance.

Goblin snarls, blade extending so he can jab down at Tony with it, but it’s too late. Tony lets an electrical charge loose from his prosthesis, shutting the glider down and tasing the fuck out of the Goblin. He buckles, and the glider starts to crash - Tony bails, letting go and free-falling towards the concrete at an alarming speed.

But then there’s the familiar yank of webbing attaching to his shirt, and in the fight against gravity, Peter wins. He changes Tony’s momentum, swinging him upwards like he’s trying to do goddamn yo-yo trick.

“Next year,” Tony wraps an exhausted arm over the kid’s shoulders as Peter tucks him under his arm like a football. He’s still wired from the adrenaline, muscles trembling slightly. “Everybody you know is getting gift cards.”

“Who doesn’t enjoy a good holiday rush?” Peter says, and Tony can hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“Gift cards, Peter. Gift cards.”

[grim-faux]

9 - Behind his Shadow

The temperature changed.  It was a fickle thing in the massive tunnels that made up the sewer, the warm air clinging to my shoulders while small drafts drifted through my sleeves causing me to shiver.  I remained crouched for several minutes listening keenly for the corridor and the thing through the grate, I’m not sure what I was waiting for.  Or if I was aware that I had been waiting for some time before the small spark of a nerve pulsed up my spine.

I needed to keep moving.  Whatever was there I was either following it or barely staying ahead of it, couldn’t decide which it was.  Either I’d stumble into it or linger too long in one area, and that would inadvertently allow it to reach me before I had time to realize I had been hunted all along.

 I wobbled as I rose to my feet and took some small steps toward the corner of the tunnel, watching the dark shades beyond the large grate with avid caution.  What happened to the person that looked down upon me?  The path on my right was open for exploration.

My nerves were too high strung, in the hollow quiet I startled myself back when my foot broke the surface of the water with a soft swish.  I backed away and rolled my eyes, though my jumpiness couldn’t be discredited.  But still, I was spooked by my own footsteps!

A plate on the wall indicated Administration Block on the right with an arrow to clarify this.  I really didn’t have any options, my only comfort came that this path would not branch out into additional tunnels and I couldn’t possibly get lost down here.  Given, there was a way out and my batteries would last.

Originally I had wanted to pause and wring out the excess water from my coat as best I could, but I didn’t want to stay stationary longer than necessary.  It clung to me like a soggy glove, at least the sewers were warm with decay, only upside here.  It was well received given circumstances.

The tunnel was dim with enough light I didn’t need my camera, I carried it beside my hip for the comfort of it.  The tunnel curved and I followed it into a well-lit channel with large drain pipes beneath the floor, grated over and filled to the brim with thick runoff.  The cooler air settled low, generating a murky steam that clung to everything and swirled around my shoulders as I cut through it.  With no area visible to hide enemies I jogged along taking in the constructive details of the abandon sewer.

It looked like railing was installed along the side, or guardrails for the workers that had to come down when it was flooded.  Support beams ran across the ceiling every few feet, but didn’t seem to help much in preventing cave-ins.  At the end of the channel was another collapse, I was approaching it when a light flittered through blinding me.

A soft voice hummed out, I wasn’t sure if I should retreat now or wait.  He was on the other side of the fallen debris, unless there was an access through on the open tunnel to the right.  The song sounded familiar but against the echoing walls I couldn’t decide if it was ‘Father’ Martin, or one of his disciples.  It didn’t sound like him….

“Till all the lambs in the church of god…”

I couldn’t make out what he was saying at this distance.  He had already taken off, on the other side of the tunnel I saw his light glitter as he ran and his feet chopped up the shallow water.  The song was somehow depressing.  Maybe because of the ‘Father’ Martin’s Gospel of Sand, or maybe seeing the man down searching as I was for his own way out, armed with only a flashlight.

I kept to the left and strained to see through the vapor where he might have gone, the tunnel had a neighboring channel but I didn’t have any ambition to explore that side further.  The forgotten corpse of Murkoffs doctors lay dissolving in the drainage gutter, even from where I stood I could pick up the heavy fumes of his bloated body. 

A door waited innocently at my backside.  I tried the handle half expecting it to be broken or locked, but the knob gave with no effort and I entered to find a patient hidden behind a shelf near the back.  I must’ve looked shocked by his presence as he held up his arms and backed away.

“You don’t have to be scared of me.  I can tell we’re the same.  You still know what’s real.”

I stepped out of the room to glance around and return my eyes to the patient, before reentering and shutting the door behind.  This was the first human in this place to actually comfort me, and not sound creepy about it.  First person to attempt a conversation with me.

“Do you mind if I film you?” I held up my camera, keeping my distance.

“Not at all.  Go ahead.  I’d actually prefer it.”  I raised the camera and zoomed in on him framing his head and shoulders nicely.  He looked no different from the dozens of unaccounted victims, his face ruined by malpractice, scars up and down his arms.  But he was fully clothed.

“The doctor’s dead, you know that, right?  Dr. Wernicke.”  I nodded.  “Died before he even started working here.”  He pinched the bridge of what remained of his nose between his fingers as though recalling some detail, or harmed by the recollections.  “What kind of experiments does a dead doctor perform on living patients?  That’s the question.”

“I found the obituary.”

“Yeah.”  To me it sounded like he didn’t credit this fact too much.  “A few of us have seen it too, a little proof he’s never been here.”  He glanced at the shelf beside him and ran a finger along its metal support.  “Doesn’t change what he’s done.”

“But…he’s dead, isn’t he?  It’s on file.”  My breath hitched when he gave me a venomous look, but it dissolved and he turned away toward a mattress abandoned on the floor behind him.  He curled up on its filthy surface and turned his back to me.

The interview was over.

“The Patients know Dr. Wernicke is dead.  One asks me, ‘What kind of experiments does a dead doctor perform on living patients?’  What is PROJECT WALRIDER?”

I examined the room lightly without disturbing him, and always kept my attention trained to any sort of sound he would make, pausing when his breathing wheezed or the broken springs of the mattress shifted.  There was no visible aid, aside from some cracked shelving and a vent that might’ve led to better venues - I couldn’t reach it.  There was only a ladder in the center of the floor leading down a short ways.  I secured the camera and climbed the rungs, that familiar scent of copper whirled around me and I anticipated what would meet me.

The sewage in the drain gutter was a soft rose color, the sharp scent of death thick in the humid tunnel.  It was fresh otherwise it would have diluted out by now.  All the screaming I’d heard in the upper level?

I shivered as I pulled up the camera but decided not to film, instead I held it between my palms and stared into the water.  What was PROJECT WALRIDER? kept ringing through my thoughts.  What was the screaming I heard?  What happened to those people?  It could’ve been Chris Walker.  Maybe I misheard them, others had expressed fears in his violent tendencies, I must’ve misheard them.  But I couldn’t stop shaking.  My coat was damp and cool, my nerves were shot.  I needed to keep moving, keep my mind focused on what was around me.

Across from my position a plate was fixed on the wall that labeled the contrary directions to take, the Male ward to the left and the Female ward to the right.  I glanced down at the river of swirling red before I set my foot on the side of the gutter and teetered, beside a metal gate.  The Male ward was where I needed to be, I think.  I wasn’t sure anymore, I could’ve as easily headed to the right if I thought there was a way out through the Female section but…I didn’t want to see what that area had to offer. I didn’t want—

A body flopped down from above nearly on top of me.  I pivoted sloshing through the metallic froth back to the direction where the Female ward was, only to turn the bend and find a solid metal gate.  I wasn’t satisfied to turn back yet, not until I took the handle and fought to turn it.  The latch was solid, my only course obvious.

I switched between breathing through my mouth or through my nose, the stench sought my senses no matter what, I could hardly bear it.  Halfheartedly I attempted to walk on the side of the drainage gutter out of the liquid, if only to settle my conscience.  The body that impacted the cement looked torn and twisted in bizarre ways and his arm looked infected, possibly blood poisoning but I was no doctor.  I couldn’t tell if he was this mangled before he fell, or whatever killed him had maimed him.

I was better off never knowing.

As I passed under the huge drain he fell from, I could see the grate above had been removed and the bright light from the upper floors descended unrestrained.  Light was still my enemy, but it was hard not to take comfort in its strong brilliance.

I checked the charge on my camera as I continued into the darker portions of the tunnel, stunned to find it nearly half dead.  That was a good battery, I had seen it when I put it in.  Or wasn’t it?  I wasn’t sure.  But if I needed my night vision down here for prolonged periods at a time, it might be on its lowest functions.

It must’ve been the chill.  The cold had a tendency to drain battery life fast.  But, no…the sewers were at times stifling, almost unbearably so in my damp coat.

The cadence of gushing water traveled around the next corner, elevating my anxiety further.  The fore sound could cloak a stew of early warnings from feet to voices, or other unnamed things.  I squatted behind some waterlogged crates stacked at the edge, and glanced over them when I saw red splatters.  Slowly I eased around the side and peered into a foggy tunnel muddled by failing lights, but enough visibility was there to utilize the zoom on my camera.  I couldn’t make out movement, even with the running water dividing my attention.  A new scene of horror awaited me.

I slipped around the boxes keeping low, and moved to the opposite side of the channel in an effort to avoid further soaking.  Water spewed from a broken water valve of a large pipe connected between the floor and ceiling, I didn’t bother to check it as my eyes focused on the red splattered on the walls and floor.  It looked like someone had been straining chunky human pieces from the large drainage pipes in the ceiling, the sides splattered with bright globs of black and red.  It was all spilling from the rim of the gutter into the water staining it the crimson hue.  Beneath the surface I could view small fish like things squirming about, as persistent as the flies burrowing into soggy guts or body parts.

I closed my eyes and swallowed, I could feel myself shaking harder as I lowered my arms beside me.  This nightmare looked recent, it smelled fresh and raw.  I had memories as a kid, being with my dad at the local butchers as he cut up the hindquarters of a hog.  This reminded me sharply of that.  Of all those times.

Maybe after this I’d turn vegan.  I never was a big fan of steak.

There was no end to it as I moved through the tunnel, blood was stained up the walls, and pieces of inner organs left strew over pipes and crates lining the gutter.  Each drain I passed under had blood running down its interior, more innards, or large sheets of skin imbedded with bone.  A leg bobbing in the drain still had blood seeping from the stump, as the little black sewer guppies thrashed into their meal.

Finally, a full human body was laid dead in the bend of the tunnel.  I didn’t care to identify his death, I continued and placed myself on the side of the gutter.  The channel darkened and a cold draft crept through my coat, I was forced to use the camera to keep from stumbling on the slick sides.

Something hissed ahead of me.  I sighed irritated by how jumpy I was, given I was still alone, it was just a pipe—

A thick splash sent cold beads of water through the bars.  I retreated a few steps and gazed through the visor, seeing nothing but a sturdy grate where the movement had occurred.  The bloated body of a Murkoff researcher was crammed against the bars, some of the skin exposed at his neck and face had been disturbed by the sudden kick in the water and floated freely from the muscles of his skull.  Above, or around me there was that same sound, ball bearings rattling through pipes.  I turned my camera filming wherever I thought the sound twittered though there was nothing to see, the noise sent shivers up my spin.  Or it could’ve been the sudden chill locked in the stale air.  Couldn’t stop here.

Need to keep moving.  Had to escape.  Thoughts of Chris and what he could do to me vanished completely with the presence of this ‘unknown.’  I wasn’t sure what I was running from, only that I somehow kept out of its line of sight.  Dumb luck.

I entered an intersecting tunnel on my right but drew back, there was light ahead but the sounds were still present, sounded like it had filtered out of the pipe and was now crashing around behind the door in the tunnels side.  The uproar grew in volume as whatever tore the room apart, shelves cracked as all manner of furniture was flung about.  The metal barrier quivered and my breath came labored, I wasn’t sure if I was actually experiencing this.  How did it get from here to that room?

I took small steps forward, before springing away for no real reason other than my fear of the sounds and I recalled the slaughter.  I could almost hear it now, shrieking voices of the deranged as skin was peeled back and bones cracked.  Then all at once everything ceased and silence saturated the calm tunnel.

It felt like I was in some sort of danger, though no visible evidence was present to suggest this notion.  The air was filled with the metallic reek and rot of old sludge, I could almost pick up the soft warble of water spilling down cobblestone.  I felt my heart sank as I realized it could just as easily be blood spilling from a ruined neck.

I debated trying the handle to see what was in there.  The highest probability would be its displeasure with the intrusion, followed by my abrupt death.  In the dark red liquid of the gutter I could see the drains grate was removed from the wall, a possible means to get away from this area.  For a moment I couldn’t move, my eyes flashed to the silent door with its unassuming threat.

Quickly I zipped along the far side of the wall across from the door and gently stepped into the rosy liquid, there was no sound as I shuffled along in the cramped space in the dark. I choked on that thick oil reek as I felt about, feeling light headed with the sudden collision.  My camera was also getting low on power, but I insisted on using every last bit of what it had.  I still only had two more batteries, and one I was certain was on half power.  My leg stung as I bore my grungy pants into the wounds with the chilled water, I shifted my weight and adjusted the camera in my hand before I could fall over.  This drain lacked the curving edges I could rest my hand upon to keep my balance, as it was I could barely keep my knees and lower edges of my coat dry.  I felt an immediate difference in temperature the moment I entered, the air was cold and calm causing my shoulders to ache as I trembled uncontrollably.

The small tunnel felt near endless in the consuming black, the edges of the green night vision made it more oppressive than should be possible.  What was only mere seconds felt like ages, until I reached a fork.  I attempted the one side that curved left, only to find it dead end at a sturdy grate.  Returning to the original route, I made certain where I was headed before trying the other side.

When the patients came down here earlier, they might have removed some of these grates together for shorter routes.  As long as the path was open, I was obligated to take it.  Every wrong turn wasted battery life and I attempted to conserve the energy by switching the NV off whenever possible, but in the black slate of nothing I felt the patient approach of something deadly.

I crawled out into a small room, a pump station.  It was drained, perhaps by the patients that came through or what was left of the staff still surviving this madness.  Some crates sat stacked in the diluted blood channel, and large pipes bore down through the grates upon which I stood, separating me from a nasty swim.  The thick fumes of oil and gas filled my lungs and the water I stood in had that translucent, iridescent sheen of chemical residue. Neglected machinery, yet still worked long after abandonment. Some miracle.

I put the camera away, with such nice lighting I just should.  The rail ahead was within arm reach if I jumped, and climbed over rather struggle between the bars.  A set of shelves at the opposite side of the room were loaded with tools and parts, and some cans of oil.  Two doors on either wall indicated the only options out of this room, if they were unlocked.

I tried the one nearest to me set on the solid cement floor, its appearance almost pleasant against the cold brick.  Behind the door was a wall of black, which would take me somewhere worthwhile I decided that instant.  The air within felt sharp and chilled, unlike the humid sewers.

The other door may have accessed the room I was locked from, as with it something dangerous and incomprehensible.  I doubted it, but decided not to risk it.  Strange shuffling and scratching sounds came from the other side, I had no wish to meet its gaze and learn its nature.  I slipped into the dark chill of the next channel, and shut the door.

Best leave some mysteries, my sick curiosity was going to be the death of me.

I was upon a high grated walkway, without the night vision I could feel the danger press close into me.  Decay, mildew, and every manner of disease.  My finger with the missing nail was in a good deal of pain, easily ignored but a frequent reminder whenever I fumbled with the cameras operations.

The path to my right was loaded with boxes, a precarious place to climb for a view if they gave out and I fell into god knows what below.  When I checked over the side I could make out the walls of metal sheeting gapped for water flow and ruined by corrosion of the mountains natural minerals, the oily water rippled with garbage from the main ward.  I was vaguely reminded of Star Wars, and half expected some unknown monster lurking in the depths to coil about my leg and drag me downwards to jaws lined with thousands of tiny teeth.

I laughed at this.  My laughter echoing off the great expanse of this chamber, deep into the dark, lost in this hell hole.  Somewhere out there a patient was laughing with me.  I swore I could hear him.

Or maybe that was my echo.

My knees gave out and I slumped to them lowering the camera beside me, but never letting go of it.  I laughed until my sides ached and I tasted that copper residue in my mouth once more.  I had fallen to deep chuckles before I started to cough on the foul air, then I flopped to my good side and lay there snickering quietly to myself on the frigid bridge.

What an idiot I was coming to this place!  “The story that breaks these bastards.”  Weren’t those my exact words?  Don’t quote me on that.  Looks like I got what I was looking for, fuckin’ story of the century, and Murkoff’s crushing demise.  They looked pretty broken to me, but maybe I wasn’t squinting right.  I should get that in fine print, signed by Dr. Wernicke himself.  Oh the irony he died before this place flipped its lid.

I waited till I had control again before attempting to rise, I didn’t need to buckle over the rail and make a graceless swan dive.

The path going left looked clear, but the rail was shattered to some distance.  With no better option I bit down on my reservations and dropped into the water, prepared for the jolt though not taking it as well as I had hoped.  I murmured to myself as my sides settled and I continued, camera held near my face as I waded through chest deep water.  It had the sharp rust smell, that was more metallic than blood, the pipes around here were made of zinc I thought.  Probably wrong, I wasn’t a plumber and I wouldn’t tell one how to do his job before I researched it.

I stopped and listened when I heard something that sounded like hissing, or grinding.  The way echoes twisted between the distant walls….maybe it was shrieking?  Maybe I was shrieking and wasn’t aware of it.

To reassure myself I touched my lips with my hand, never once considering how filthy my fingers were after I had been crawling down in the gutters.  In about five minutes it would come back to me.  I took a shaky breath to smooth my frayed nerves but it didn’t help at all.  I tried not to bite down on my tongue to prevent my teeth from chattering, in the event something did surprise me, I’d wind up biting off my tongue.

In the dark a shape flittered by, startling me back a step.  I gazed at it until my eyes told my brain what it was, just a scrap of blanket from somewhere.  I hated this place.  It was obvious by now.

I searched around the small channel, not sure what to make of this area.  I decided not to worry about it.  There were large grates, massive, separating this area from the channels I might have viewed or come through.  There was no way into them.  I hurried my movement, struggling to build a mental map of where I was going and prevent wasting the battery by getting turned around.  The chamber was extending beyond the dividing sections and cement walls far spread enabling me from following one side without losing too much power in the process.  I ventured into a small area open by a tear in the steel mesh, but found nothing other than a cluster of crates and some magazines that dissolved around my coat.

My battery was done, and I was forced to change it out.  The next one was full power, good to get me out of here.  Just had to find somewhere to get too.

When I returned to the area I had just left, I noted a stack of crates beneath a broken rail.  It’s connector.  I climbed the crates and dragged myself up onto the path, or what was left of it.  A few steps and I was already splashing below in the next channel, wading along with water bubbling into my coat.  I supposed I was looking for ways to get up and walk on these broken paths to reach a door or ladder, anyway to get out of here.  Good plan.  I had a good sense of direction on me, so long as I didn’t overthink which way I was facing.  If I memorized where I came from and kept my back to the drop or path, then I could navigate across the murky waters with a good mind where the next catwalk would appear.

As I was moving the same clatter of pellets in a pipe twittered off the fences and walls.  I checked the ceilings and zoomed to locate large pipes hung above, it was difficult to follow a direction consistently.  I also wasn’t certain if I wanted to follow that eerie sound, I was trying to keep avoid it.

After walking halfway around the small pool I located the grated steps leading up to my next pathway.  One way was the broken remains of the metal bridge, the other took a sharp right.  I walked along, wrenching back when a form came into view.  Just a cold body slumped on the rail, I lowered the camera to rub my face with my hand.  When I pulled my hand back I held it out straight and viewed it through the NV feed of the visor.  My hand was trembling like an addict suffering heavy withdrawals.  I didn’t feel frightened here despite the odd sounds and the lurking threat, I was just cold.  It was very cold and I was trembling.

I turned the camera back on the patient.  It was a rather odd place to die, I gave the corpse plenty of space as I passed.  The small detail that I was viewing murdered patients in the sewers was not missed, it could mean a number of things.  They were lost down here due to ‘Father’ Martins guidance, and the big fucker had found them.  Or, the remaining survivors of the staff had retreated down here, and were defending themselves from the variants.  While the latter speculation seemed the most plausible, I doubted it.  I had already accepted that everyone affiliated with Murkoff for whatever reason, had been killed.  And nothing could change that.

The catwalk came to its inevitable end, and I was certain I heard something glide through the liquid below.  It was only fair to note that at this point I was disturbed, and I couldn’t tell if my mind was playing tricks on me or if there was really something lurking below in the untold depths.

Star Wars.

The water swirled about me when I plopped in, and I took a moment to check the power on the battery before continuing.  I was stunned to find it half done.  What was this?  I found these batteries abandoned throughout this place, had they lost most of their juice exposed the way they were?

For now it would hold, I’d worry over it later.  Probably when it was too late.

I swore I felt the water ripple around my chest.  Maybe my movement caused ripples that returned to me.  Echo ripples?  Seemed logical. I needed to get out of here before something did drag me under and drowned me.  I kept walking, careful steps and slow movements, try not to disturb the surface too much.  The silence grew thunderous as my heart pumped in my chest, I was completely and totally alone here in this channel.

The water burst in front of me spraying the camera as with my face with an icy sheet, it successfully spooked me into a full retreat.  It was nothing I assured, after I had calmed myself and gawked back at the burbling surface.  There was nothing there, no one in the water.  Just…something from the ceiling.  Worn brick, or that nasty shit.  Fuck, a decapitated head, none of those things could consciously hurt me.

Another walkway curved overhead to the right, it felt like I had gone in a complete circle only because I didn’t trust the stability of some boxes.  I could see no boxes from where I was stationed below.  I grunted and hauled myself up, bringing the camera back to my face as I took the path.  A few feet and I found an innocent looking door to my left, the slim crawl of light at the bottom crack.  The hinges stuck and creaked as forced it open, only to meet a despairing sight.

The room was empty aside from a bare utility shelf, some plywood, and a man slumped in the furthest corner.  A thin black puddle had formed under him, indicating an advanced post mortem state.  At his hand was a wrinkled notepad suffering water damage, and the remains of a brown crayon.

I gave the body a distrustful glare before I stepped forward and took up the pad.  The writing was mostly eligible, only because crayon was waterproof, but it had not taken well to wet paper I surmised.

“Already weak, cold.  It’s still bleeding but it doesn’t hurt anymore and I almost have quiet.  I can’t hear the Walrider anymore.  Maybe the therapy is wearing off, I can’t remember the dreams.  Said I could earn my release from this place by submitting to the therapy.  Lies.  Of course they were lying.  It was not therapy.  We were sacrificed to conjure a demon.  Please, let there be no more dreams.  The only hel….”

Out of habit I flipped the page over to see if there was more, but the writing had a thick crescent mark trailing off the unfinished word.

I returned my gaze to the dead man.  One patient had said there were no experiments, but rituals, and had called it a ‘conjuring.’  What exactly did the experiments for Project Walrider entail?

But who did this man refer to?  Murkoff, or ‘Father’ Martin.  ”Accept the Gospel, and all doors will open”’  What was the therapy he referred to?  The mutilation each patient bore?  Too many new questions, not enough answers.  Even the authentic documents Murkoff published made little more sense than the patients statements.

I recorded the note, doubting even with the descent light of the room that it would be eligible, but I went ahead and tore off the page and folded it up to slip into my notebook.  My coat wasn’t waterproof, but the pocket I kept perishable items in was lined with a water repellent material that kept them safe.  A bit of liquid did seep through the zipper, but it was more than my body could say.

I shut the door and resumed on the walkway, only to find its sudden end.  I splashed into another channel coughing at the odd shift in my ribs, it didn’t hurt but tickled more like I had a mild cough.  I waded around the perimeter but located no visible way to exit here, nor an overhead path.  Off on the side I climbed out on a wide drainage chute to take a moment and exchange out the battery.  For a moment I listened to the water drip off my coat and trickle into the large body below, aside from this the chamber was total silence, even the rattle of needles had faded away leaving the echoing vibrations of the solitary water rippling against metal sheeting.

The battery was a half dead one as well.  Might as well use it while things felt calm, I’d have to tread cautiously and maybe give this one up early if I wandered near danger.  Though, the way my batteries were dying, it seemed inevitable that I would change it soon.

With no visible exit here, I decided to backtrack. I must have missed something.  An opening probably, skipped in the poor NV quality.  Excuses, excuses.  I chided myself for being so careless, even distracted as I was I needed to pay attention to my surroundings or I wouldn’t survive much longer.  I shuddered at the thought as I slipped into the cold channel.  It was just cold.

I returned to the previous pool, before had I climbed up into the catwalk with the dead patient.  I scoured the perimeter over wasting precious battery life, before I decided to climb that damn drainage chute with the grate.  I had missed a small opening in the side, looked like someone had kicked it out with fire.  I crawled into the next channel, chamber, flow - whatever, and stepped down into water that was not quite as deep.  It was freezing though, I was shaking so hard the images of the visor were not clear enough to see until I had paused to get my quakes under control.

Felt like my knees were numb, but it did ease the pain in my chest.  I was going to be a female before the end of this.  Damn.

I tried along the outer wall locating all the discarded papers, folders, cans, and cardboard.  My pulse quickened and I was trembling harder than before, I found out why as I turned the camera.  Rotted decapitated heads floating at the sides.  I could see the heads due to the eyes, eyes always glowed.  I hated that.  Somehow my peripheral vision had picked up on them before I consciously realized it, the notion itself elicited a tiny moan from me.  Across the channel I could zoom on the camera and locate more heads balanced on crates staring with vacant expressions across the black expanse.  I shut my eyes and looked away.

There was a sound.  Someone screaming, most likely.  I continued, bumping a few items that became water logged and sunk.  Bodies floated after some time.  Eerie thought right there.  I wasn’t paying enough attention at the moment, couldn’t bring myself to focus on where I was going.  A small knot had buried into my spine like an obnoxious ache, but it felt more like stress and the cold twisting my nerves. 

When I finally staggered in the water nearly dropping the camera I looked out, revaluating my position.  A few large pillars supported what must’ve been the upper floor.  There was a way out, somewhere to climb up on and get a better view of my surroundings.

Movement.  Ripples.  They could have been mine, but they traveled from the opposite side of the room far from walls, that I could tell.  Something solid was down here with me.

I shuffled near the curving wall carefully, taking small steps as I turned the camera in gradual sweeps and zoomed in.  Trying to find what, before it found me.  I drew too near to it and picked up the dull clink of chains, and the rather aggressively way the water broke.

Chris Walker.  Down here!  Damn it, if there was no way out!

But as I turned the camera, up in the ceiling there beamed a light from some sort of opening.  It meant nothing, probably from where the big fucker crashed in from.  But it was my only chance.  It was more than what I’d found so far.

I hid behind a stack of crates and peered out, as his eyes glimmered phantom like in the NV mode.  Just beyond him I could make out a set of steps leading up, and a walkway.  That was something, and the light source right there, it could have been where Chris plunged in from.

What was he doing down here?  Lost?  I didn’t care, it would be a nice change of pace if he was stuck.  I doubted his fate would end in a place like this, he wouldn’t rest until he saw me dead.

“Stacked neatly side by side,” he hummed, taking a turn and wandering a ways from my position.

I zoomed out, heading in the general direction I had seen the steps.  “Too good at what I do.”  He must’ve been lost in recollections of his past, or a session with the doctors.  It kept him distracted and that was good.  “Someone’s here.”  Not nearly enough.

The rings were getting smaller as he closed in on me, I was barely climbing the steps when the power in my battery began to fade.  Fuck, what bad timing!  I bolted up the steps rather bother with it.  Chris gave a sharp snarl when he must have seen my form in the faint light.  I ran, not realizing the path ended before I nearly bolted off the broken walkway into open air.

There was a ladder that would’ve extended down to the bridge, if it was still intact.  The lower portion of it and much of the catwalk was torn to shreds and dumped in the water below.

I felt the vibrations of the big fucker as he stormed up behind me.

I jumped down into the water and wadded away.  He did much of the same, only he seemed to have an easier time charging through the froth after me.  My camera was depleted, but it did punch a small hole of perception in what was otherwise a black wall.  I was in a mad hobble to keep out of his grip, and he was catching up.

A very insignificant memory came back to me, way back from my child hood.  When the kids in my old neighborhood got together Saturday nights to play outdoor games, like kids my age used to do many moons ago, we would often play tag.  I had many fond memories of being it, and not being it.  Sometimes we got bored and would antagonize the tagger, so we could run.  No one liked trying to tag me much, I was good at getting away.  But if ever I was in a jam and close to getting caught, I had a very unique way of eluding my pursuer.

With Chris close at my back, I managed several long strides in the impeding water and leapt forward, twisting in midair and coming down so I faced the opposite way I was headed.  Albeit, it was sluggish in the water, I shoved off glancing by Chris as he fought to jerk about.

The back of his arm slammed into my lower hip as he fell, a loud yowl expelled from my throat as the chains multiplied the pain by six.  I stumbled but recovered quickly, adrenaline pumped through my veins as I made it back, guided only by the poor light of the night vision.

“You had your chance!”

I could hear him stagger upright and resume the chase.  The metal steps were a few feet off but I redirected myself and took them three at a time, never mind the throb building in my hip.  Never mind any of that shit, I wouldn’t have another go at this if I fell.

I stuffed the camera strap between my teeth before I lunged forward, relying on my meek sight alone and the faulty light to identify the ladders bars glinting in the fog.  I hit them with a muffle grunt, my boots slipping through the space and I swung backwards barely catching the rungs with my feet splayed against them.  When I hit the lower side with my back, holy hell, the bolt of pain shot up my shoulder blades and numbed a spot in my tongue.  Somehow I never lost my grip on the camera, probably because I had bitten hard into the strap due to the shock.  Dumbfounded, I hung there as Chris thundered across the bridge with a murderous growl.  I registered his intentions with enough time to jerk myself up, as he leapt slashing at my shoulder.

Complete silence.

I imagined Chris Walker falling forever into a dark void, or well.  A poisoned well, before he splashed at the very bottom.  My abdomen began to ache, and I was forced to haul myself up and climb the ladder the rest of the way.  Below, he snarled with fury and maybe promised next time would be different, before he broke off into mad cackles that sounded a little too feminine to be MY big ugly fucker.

I was delirious by the time I reached the top of the ladder, my body sort of oozed out onto the icy concrete floor and I rolled away from that large gaping hole.  Away from danger, away from that wicked monster.  I curled myself up beside some shelving and lay there, clutching the camera to my chest.  A dull throb pulsed up my side and a unbearable warmth seeped through my lower thigh, I fumbled for my wet pants leg trying to decide if I was bleeding but it was impossible to tell.  I probably shouldn’t be clutching my only light source to my wet coat, but my brain wasn’t registering the warning at this time.  It felt like everything was spinning, the dull beige room I lay in was whirling and twisting, I felt my eyes roll back under their lids as I tried to follow the motion.

I thought I heard someone crying, but it wasn’t me.  Fuck that.  I rolled off my side and looked over at a man in a chair.

Beware men in chairs.

For a long time I stared at him and I think, he stared right back.  His face looked like it was infected, or a bees nest had made a home in his brain.

Miles.  Up.  Get up Miles.  Walk it up.

I don’t really want to.  But I made the effort, slipping my hands under me and pushing off the dusty ground.  A small whine escaped me as I pushed, literally dragging myself to my feet.  Once I was standing, I moved towards the open door.  A familiar sort of door, I couldn’t recall where I had seen doors like this.

I managed to reach the doorway before I dropped.  A moment, I needed a moment.  Just a short span of time in the quiet, away from the screaming and the oppressive death, and the dangers.  Just give me five minutes to get my shit together and get up.  As I sank heavily to my side I exhaled a sharp breath scattering the dust near my face, my forehead thudded with pain as the warmth subsided in my calm state.  I’m not sure if I was on my good side or if I had a good side anymore, perhaps a more favorable position to lie in?  I couldn’t sleep here, but I couldn’t resist either.  I wouldn’t sleep.  I would not sleep.  Wouldn’t sleep.

The soft shuffle of feet interrupted my coaxing.  I turned my head just enough over my shoulder to see the man from the chair approach me.  I did my best to glare at him, or to not look terrified before I blacked out.

[ethereal-wishes]

Meet Me Halfway: Part One

Sir Maurice – Duke of Avonlea – had pledged his daughter, Belle, to be wed to King Raul's son, Neal, ever since she was born. The pair would wed on her eighteenth birthday. Belle French had never met Neal, but she had met his father – King Raul. He was a man with short graying hair and a stern countenance. He never smiled, and Belle was aware of the ruefulness always lurking within his soulful depths. When, Belle, had asked her father why Neal had never visited, Maurice had informed her he was a sickly child. Raul would often journey to Avonlea and converse kingly affairs with her father. He'd never spoken to her in passing, often pretending she was invisible whilst in her father's presence.

Belle inwardly dreaded the day she would have to leave Avonlea and become the wife of a man she'd never truly met. She'd filled her time with educating herself about kingdom affairs, leading up to that moment. She'd received an extensive education during her childhood, because she didn't intend to be an ignorant ruler. By the time her eighteenth birthday arrived, she assumed she would meet the prince she was destined to wed. She'd been mistaken when her father revealed that Prince Neal had died a few short years earlier of the bubonic plague. In fact, Raul's wife – Queen Milah had passed as well.

“I don't understand, Papa. What are you saying? I've been expecting to marry this prince my entire life, yet why am I just finding out he's deceased?” she queried, her mind buzzing with questions.

The duke exhaled sharply. "There will be a wedding, Belle. It just won't be to Prince Neal.”

“Then who!?” She demanded, sickness roiling in her gut.

Maurice swallowed hard, averting his gaze. "King Raul still intends to honor the marriage agreement we forged at your christening. You'll marry him instead. He's without an heir and needs a new queen to rule beside him.”

Belle's countenance fell at the mention of the callous, standoffish royal. “You can't be serious, Papa. That man has the personality of a dead fish,” she countered.

Maurice sighed, wrapping his arm around his daughter's delicate shoulders. “You don't know him like I do. I know he's twice your age, but he's an honorable man. He'll be a good husband to you, I have no doubt. Though you may find you have little in common, you'll have a comfortable life.”

Belle nodded. “I'll accept King Raul's proposal because it's the right move for both of our kingdoms. I never knew the prince, but I'd hoped to.”

Maurice smiled, pulling her close. “You make me proud, Belle. Tomorrow, Raul will arrive for the wedding celebrations, and then you'll be escorted back to Albannach.”

“Let it be as you say,” she consented, spending the rest of her evening being refitted for her wedding gown. When she was finally granted some solitude, she spent her time reading in a cozy nook in her personal library. She would dearly miss her castle, her father, her friends, including every other piece of herself she was leaving behind.

~X~

The day of the wedding left her stomach tied in knots. He'd met her at the altar, decorated in his kingly ensemble. The veil hid her rouge cheeks and lacquered lips. The first words they'd speak to each other would be their vows. She fought back the urge to tremble as she spoke the sacred vows pauper and prince had exchanged for ages. His eyes fixated themselves on her, studying, committing each detail to memory. She became enraptured by his eyes, the wind being knocked from her as he brushed his lips ever so slightly against hers. She blinked as the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. There wasn't time to contemplate what had just transpired, before she found herself being led by his arm to a carriage. Once the doors shut, she knew she'd never step foot in Avonlea again. A tear trekked down her cheek, and she couldn't stop the way her body trembled. The king gazed at her, his eyes filled with something unreadable.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “For ripping you away from everything,” he spoke – the sound of his lilting brogue filling the carriage, startling her.

“Pardon?” She spoke, startled by his phantom voice.

“The ripping. I'm sorry for ripping you away from your homeland, your friends, your father,” he paused. “The ripping hasn't stopped though, the seam hasn't been mended.”

“Why do you speak in riddles, your highness?” She addressed him formally, trying to wrap her mind around his enigma.

He smirked at her response. “I'm used to the ripping. My son was ripped away by the plague, my wife, my subjects, my countrymen. There's so much blood it would flood the towns. I need the ripping to stop.”

His countenance fell, revealing those same sad eyes she vaguely remembered during her girlhood. She longed to reach out to him but wasn't sure if it was appropriate, but she supposed it mattered little because it was their wedding night. Soon his hands would be anywhere they wished, marking her as his prize.

Despite her hesitation, she reached out to him, grasping his hand in her own, and testing the weight of it in her palm. He stiffened, and she assumed he wasn't used to this kind of touch, but she continued, stroking his fingers, admiring his beautiful, weathered hands. “You have beautiful hands, you know?”

He scoffed, amused. “There's nothing beautiful about me, princess. The years have worn me away, until I'm a shell of the man I used to be.”

“Your highness, I believe we're all layered. And maybe the years have been unkind.” She continued her gentle ministrations over his digits. “But my father said you were a good man, and I don't doubt him at all.”

He interlaced their fingers, startling her. Her breath hitched in her throat as he began making obsolete patterns on her skin. “These worn, despicable hands have killed men, princess. Yet, you touch me without revulsion.”

Belle dared a glance into his eyes. “I'm aware the cost of keeping a kingdom, securing your reign for centuries to come. It is built upon blood and alliances. And it's the reason we're sitting here in this carriage. I wasn't supposed to marry you, and you weren't supposed to marry me. However it's the way fate destined it to be – You and I, sitting here in this carriage, hand in hand.”

“Now who speaks in riddles, princess?” His age lines crinkled into a smile, as he drew her knuckle to his lips, kissing it reverently.

Belle's breath hitched in her throat. “Tonight, I apologize for my inexperience.”

The king gazed at her, full of wonder and awe. “And I apologize for mine, it has been many years since a woman has warmed my bed,” he admitted, sending a shiver down her spine.

He gathered her hands in his own, gazing into her cerulean depths – his eyes filled with so much sincerity, it wrenched her heart. “I would never hurt you, princess, and tonight I will treat you as a delicate flower. It will be a new journey for us both, this union. I'm sorry I'm not young or handsome.”

“I think you're handsome though.” She brushed prettily at his statement, and he half smiled. He couldn't help but think of her as his delicate flower, one he hoped wouldn't wither at his touch.

“And twice your age,” he teased, planting a sensual kiss against the underside of her wrist. She shuddered at the contact, aware their hands were still connected.

“38,” she answered coyly.

“39,” he corrected. “Today is my birthday.”

Belle blinked owlishly at his statement. “Why ever did you choose to wed on your birthday?”

The king shrugged. “To make a fonder memory. My birthday isn't exactly a joyous occasion.”

Before she could inquire further, the carriage came to a screeching halt. Screams erupted from the outside, and her eyes grew wide as she observed him brandish his sword. “Stay in the carriage, and whatever you do, don't leave. I shall return,” he commanded swinging open the door. He shut it, and she bolted it, sinking down – muffling her ears to drown out the screams coming from the outside. She wasn't sure if it had been hours or days, but the screams finally ceased and all was quiet. She stayed frozen in the carriage, wondering if he was dead. Suddenly the door swung open, revealing his cloaked form.

“Bandits, bloody bastards killed my driver and a few guards, but we got them rounded up,” he cursed, and Belle's face paled when she noticed the blood drenching his tunic.

“Are you hurt?” She inquired, her ears beginning to ring. He reached for her, bracing her fall. He pulled her onto his lap, commanding his men to make haste. He knew she'd only fainted. She was too delicate for him, and he secretly feared he would crush her with the weight of his sins. An innocent lamb caught in the lion's den.

She awoke, lying in his arms. She blinked, noticing a far away look in his eyes. The carriage was dark, and she assumed the sun had already set. She admired his beautiful, careworn face. She absentmindedly reached up to caress his jawline. He shuddered, gazing down at his new bride, unused to such a reverent touch.

“What are you doing, princess?” he mumbled, taking her hand and delicately kissing the underside of her wrist.

“I was hoping to, get a feel of what my new husband's skin felt like,” she spoke, blushing deeply from her admittance.

He gently brushed chestnut locks from her eyes. “Oh how delicate you are, wife. So innocent and fair. What have I done to deserve such a gift?”

Feeling bold, Belle raised up to capture his lips in an inexperienced kiss. The one they'd shared back at the ceremony was brief, but this time, she allowed herself to truly explore the outline of his lips – truly taste him. He kissed her back fervently, cradling her face in his hands. She'd shifted her position and was now sitting on his lap. He nipped lightly at her lower lip, and she carded her fingers through his soft mane.

He gripped her hips gently, securing her onto his lap. The kiss made her feel pleasantly warm, and she ground her hips into him, causing him to jerk forward. He broke the kiss, a predatory look in his eyes. “Be careful, little lamb, not to awaken the lion. The beast within has quite an appetite,” he warned.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360130/chapters/66855967

Belle experimentally ground her hips into him again, causing his grip on her to tighten. She flushed deeply, her rosy cheeks eclipsed within the darkness of the carriage. His gaze grew intense, and he bruised her rosebud mouth with his lion teeth. Tongues and teeth clashed messily together, battling for dominance. The kiss was short lived for the carriage had came to a halt.

“We are here, my delicate bloom,” He purred deliciously in her ear, causing her entire body to tremble in the most pleasant of places. “We are in Albannach.”

[badwolf-in-the-impala]

~Come Away to The Water~

|| Chapter One - Dead of Winter ||  

Inspiration: Come Away to the Water by Maroon 5 ft. Rozzi Crane

Storyboard Credit: Myself. Pictures not mine, but editing and collage is.

Pairings: Harald Finehair x OFC ((face claim - Sophie Turner))

Rating: Mature/18+

General warnings: Death, Violence, Gore, Graphic content, Abuse, Kidnapping, Sexual content.

Chapter warnings: Depictions of death, gory-ish details? Angst.

A/N: EDIT: SO, it’s been forever since I touched this story...Or well, posted anything for that fact lol but I finally found some inspo on where I wanna go with this story, so I’ve edited/added to the first chapter! I hope you guys enjoy! SHOUTOUT to @jacksonroseroth​ for your help, darlin’! New fic idea say waaaaa?! Anywho, thank you for taking a moment of your time to stop and read; it means a lot ^-^ Obviously this is a work of fiction, so I apologize if things aren’t 100% HISTORICALLY accurate. I’ve spent a lot of time researching the past few days trying to certain aspects as close as possible. So bare with me! 

Feedback is always welcomed and much appreciated! I hope you guys enjoy! Also I want to add that the beginning italic is a flashback scene...Dialogue, bold and italic is to distinguish the language barrier between Rowan and Harald.

Word Count:  5099

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“Come away little lamb come away to the water Give yourself so we might live anew Come away little lamb come away to the slaughter”

~ “Do try nah to stray so far from the path this time, Rowan…” Her mother sighed deeply as she fastened the heavy black fur cloak around her daughters shoulders; settling a small sack of provisions in her hands. “It worries me’h.”

“Dinna worry yer’self, Ma.” Rowan smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to her mother’s cheek gently as she drew up the hood to cover her flame kissed hair. “I’ll be fine.”

The older woman cracked a small grin as she cupped her daughters cheek, patting it affectionately. “Y’er to much like y’er Da.” She shook her head lightly as she watched her daughter slip the bow over her head, settling it with the string across her chest before snatching up the quiver of arrows. “Jus’ be back ‘fore dark...There’s a storm comin’!”

“Aye, Ma.” Rowan chuckled softly with a roll over her Emerald eyes before placing a kiss atop each of her three younger siblings heads. “Behave yourselves, ya wee savages.” She teased lightly, earning a pair of giggles out of the two youngest. A set of identical twins of just barely five years.

“Are ye goin’ to bring us back a Stag, Rowey?!” Alana questioned excitedly.

“Aye, are ye, are ye?” Ainslie echoed as she bounced in her seat, equally as excited as her sister.

“I’ll most certainly try.” Rowan winked as she reached for the front door, pausing when she felt a slight tug on her cloak. Turning to find her youngest brother peering up at her sheepishly.

“C-Can I? P-Please?” He stuttered nervously, looking down at his feet as Rowan shook her head no.

“Nay. Not today, Findley.” She gave her youngest brothers shoulder a reassuring squeeze and ruffled his dark auburn hair, before leaning back to snatch a couple of bannocks off the table. “Perhaps after the storm passes...I’ll teach ye how to catch rabbits.”

“P-Promise?”

“Aye.” She grinned softly, earning a shy smile out of the young boy in return. “I promise.”

With a final goodbye to her mother and siblings, Rowan pushed open the creaky wooden door of the small stone and wood built bothy, that their large family of Six shared; stepping out into the frigid early morning air. Her leather and fur clad foot catching the back of her own twins leg, as she passed by. Tossing him the second bannock she held, causing him to pause mid-swing on the chunk of wood he had been about to split as he caught it. Beaming a smile as he thanked her around a mouthful of food.

“Spend some time with Finn today, eh?” Rowan called over her shoulder as she started towards the path that lead out of the Village and down towards the river. Turning back to shoot her brother a glare at the annoyed groan he gave her in return.

“Don’ make me tell Ma what ye’ve been gettin’ up to with Flora now, Kai! She threatened.

“Ye wouldn’t?!”

Rowan simply shrugged, throwing her brother a mischievous grin before trotting off down the path towards the water. Ignoring her brothers voice as he called after her. Begrudgingly agreeing that he would spend some time with Finn later.

~

The day continued on as normal as any other. Rowan took her time trekking through the woods, setting and checking snares along her usual path. A smile creeping onto her lips as she spied a set of tracks -- those of a stag -- just off the main trailhead.

It had been well over a month since she had brought home a Stag, or any other large game for that matter, and the thought of having fresh meat on the table again, made her mouth water. But more importantly the thought of seeing the smiles it would bring to her family’s faces made the aspect of the hunt seem all the more worthwhile as she reset her final snare. Taking a final glance around to get her bearings, before venturing off the beaten path and deeper into the forest.

Rowan tracked the animal well into the late afternoon before it was finally snowing too hard for her to safely venture any farther. The Stag having remained, teasingly, just out of her reach the entire time. Taunting her almost, as they trailed deeper and deeper into the woods until it was too late to turn back. Forcing her to seek shelter for the night in an abandoned den she stumbled across on the hunt.

The wind blew too fiercely for her to start a fire, which forced her to settle for pulling the thick fur cloak she wore around herself tightly, in an attempt to stay warm. Burrowing down into the fallen leaves and debris that surrounded her as an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach...But she wasn’t quite able to place a finger on it.

This hadn’t been the first time she was caught out in a storm over night like this and never before had it been -- nor would it likely ever be -- an issue. Her father having taken extra care to teach her, as well as her twin brother, everything they needed to know about surviving in the wild, from a young age; Until his untimely death just a few short years ago. She knew how to take care of herself regardless of the situation...She would be fine.

But that still did little to quell the worry that settled in the back of her mind as Rowan sighed, clutching her cloak tighter around herself as she closed her eyes. Attempting to push the worry from her thoughts the best she could as she tried to make herself comfortable. She knew for certain that her mother and the wee ones would be worried sick that she had not returned yet, but that come first light, Kai would be out to meet her halfway on the trail just like he always did.

But for the time being, she was at the mercy of the Gods.

~

The weather had cleared come dawn, allowing Rowan to venture out from the safety of the den she called home for the night. Brushing away the moss and dries leaves from her clothes as she emerged with a stretch, pausing to grab a bannock and a piece of dried fish from the small sack of provisions she carried. Thankful that her mother had insisted upon her taking it with her as she nibbled away at it; beginning the trekk back towards her Village.  

The ground was covered in a fresh layer of ankle deep snow, making the journey twice as long and twice as treacherous as it concealed many things beneath its shimmering surface -- like ice and root snarls -- that could pose a threat to a serious injury, if one was not sure of their footing. It made her that much more thankful she had spent so much of her youth exploring these woods with Kai and their father...It was her home away from home, and she knew it like the back of her hand. Which in turn helped her to make decent time on her return to the main path. It also made her more aware of things that most anyone else would often overlook naturally. Like how nature had suddenly fallen into an eerie silence as she stepped back onto the main path, noting how the snow was still fresh; untouched.  

The uneasy feeling from the night before suddenly returned to settle in the pit of her stomach, tying it up in knots as she looked up at the sky. It was well past mid-morning and there were no signs that Kai had yet been there, which struck her as unusual. He was always waiting, no matter the hour.  

A jolt of anxiety shot through her like lightning as she took off down the path, willing her feet to carry her faster as she broke through the treeline and out into the open. The silence around her deafening, aside from the sound of the River as she raced along its edge, wading the crossing swiftly, trying her best to ignore the icy sting of the water as it soaked her boots, only adding to her struggle as she stumbled up the snow slick hill that lead to her home...That surge of anxiety quickly morphing into fear as she watched thick plumes of black smoke billowing into the grey Winter sky.

Rowan’s heart nearly stopped as she crested over the top of the hill, a scream ripping from her lungs at the sight of the damage that lay before her. What was left of her people stood gathered round in a wash of tears, disbelief and despair. Their homes and outbuildings still blazed, while others only smoldered now; Reduced to rubble, or turned to ash. Their Livestock hung from trees and fences, slaughtered. All their stores of produce and provisions set aside for winter, gone.

Bodies lie butchered, scattered along the ground, tainting the once pure white snow a sickening shade of dark crimson. Her boots imprinting a trail of red in the snow behind her, as she ran towards her family’s home that still smoldered. Rowan ignoring the sting of burning flesh as she dug frantically at what remained of the building. Tears streaming down her face as she cried out for Mother and siblings.

“They’re gone, Rowan.” A neighbor approached quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders gently as he urged her away from the still crumbling building to safety. Rowan pulling away, stumbling a few feet where she fell to her knees at the sight of Kai’s body; lifeless on the ground. His dark hair and fair skin matted with drying blood...An axe protruding from the center of his chest.

“I-I’m s-s-or-ry…” A broken sob left her lips as she covered his blue eyes -- still widened with fear -- with her hand and slipped them closed.

“Ma--…The twins?”

The woman who approached her before, now shook her head. The look on her face a solemn one as she knelt beside the broken young woman before her, taking her forearms gently and pulling her up to her feet as she embraced her.

“The Danes took ‘em...Ye and Findley are all that’s left.”

“Findley?” The name fell as a hoarse whisper from her lips, as green eyes tried desperately to blink back tears as she pulled away to look up.

“Aye, he lives...But jus’ barely.” The woman grinned softly as she replied, though the gesture was less than hopeful. The woman raising a finger to silence Rowan as she knew what was about to come next.

“Ye can not see him jus’ yet, Lass.” She stated gently, with a soft pat against Rowan’s arms. “Let us go an’ take care of those burns first...”  

Turning as the woman lead her away to one of the healers, Rowan gave a final glance at the carnage that lay all around her. Wondering what they had done to deserve such a senseless act of violence...Innocent families, women, children?

They had heard Tales of the vicious Northmen -- Danes as many called them -- that ruled over the Seas. Pillaging and plundering places of riches and nobility…But Rowan’s people were no more than simple farmers; hunters and fishermen. What would the Norsemen want with them?

Never once had her own people consider, that one day, they might set foot in the Highlands...Something that left them unprepared, and defenseless to the ruthless attack.

Leaving the place she called her homeland...Broken and in ruin.

~

Rowan’s chest heaved erratically as she sat bolt upright in her bed, clutching the furs to her chest as she swiped a hand across her forehead, finding it slick with sweat as she pushed back the fiery red locks that were matted to her skin. A sigh escaping her lips quietly. It had been quite some time since she’d had a nightmare about that fateful day...The day her family was so cruelly taken from her. It had been nearly five years now, but the wounds were still fresh in her mind like it had happened only yesterday.

Frowning to herself, Rowan pushed the furs from her body and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, shivering as her bare feet touched the cold dirt covered floor as she wrapped herself in one of the furs tightly as she walked to the window; pushing the shutter open. The sun had barely even begun to rise over the mountains, showering the glen in a twilight glow as it cast  shadows through the trees. Everything around them lay quiet and completely still, as if basking in the arrival of a new day.

Pulling her gaze away from the rapid approach of dawn just outside their small home, Rowan turned and walked towards the fire on the opposite side of the room. Adjusting the fur into one hand as she added more kindling and wood to the glowing embers that resided in the hearth; kneeling and blowing gently until the fire blazed back to life.

Once she was satisfied with the heat emitted from the fire, Rowan stood and returned to the foot of her bed, opening the small wooden trunk that lie there as she began piecing together an outfit for the day. Dressing in her warmest pair of trousers and a light blue tunic made from a heavier wool material for added warmth. Securing it with a thin leather belt before tugging on her boots.

She discarded her night shirt into the wash pile before returning the fur to its place on her bed as she made it for the day. A small smile tugging at her lips as a pitiful low pitched whine caught her attention, turning to find the large gray wolf she called her companion, now sitting beside the fire. Having climbed down from her little brother’s bed;  head tipped curiously as it watched her.

“Don’t be impatient, ya greedy breast. I dinna forget abou’ ye.” She quipped as she rummaged around for some bits of dried meat and bannocks to take out with her. Tossing the wolf a small chunk of meat she kept aside specifically for him, before throwing together a small pot of wheat porridge for Findley and setting it up over the fire to cook.

“Go on now.” She waved her hand to where her young brother still slept soundly. “Go an’ wake the boy.” The wolf gave a snort as it rose to all fours, giving a long stretch before the beast trotted across the room and leapt gracefully onto the bed. The large animal laying directly on top of Findlay as he commenced to licking the boys face repeatedly with it’s large tongue.

“Ugh, get off me ya brute!” Findley yelped out as he squirmed beneath the large animal, trying to push him off to no avail. Rowan chuckled softly, watching her brother struggle for a moment longer before she gave a sharp whistle to call him off. The wolf jumping down from the bed and coming over to sit beside her, accepting a small piece of bannock she offered before popping the last bite into her mouth with a grin. Her little brother glowered at her from the edge of his bed where he now sat upright.

“Good mornin’ to ye too, Fin.” She snickered with an amused grin.

“Mornin’...” Findley grumbled back crankily as he climbed out of bed and moved to warm himself beside the fire. Lifting the lid on the small pot briefly to inspect what was inside of it.

“Should be done soon.” Rowan stated as she moved to grab her heavy black fur cloak and pull it on, before gathering her game bag, bow and quiver. “I need to check the traps, so it’s up to ye to get the animals fed an’ taken care of. Can ye handle that?”

Findley gave a curt nod as he grabbed a bannock off the table and began devouring it. “Aye, I can handle it.” He spoke around a mouth full of food, Rowan rolling her eyes in response as she shook her head.

“Don’t talk with ye’r mouthful, ya heathen.” She chided with a playful grin before continuing. “If ye need help with anythin’, go an’ fetch young Turick to help ye. Got it?”

“Aye…” Findley sighed in annoyance with an eye roll, which in turn earned him a glare from his older sister. “I’m a cripple, Row, tha’ does not mean I’m useless.” He muttered self consciously as his right hand ventured absentmindedly to the stump of his left shoulder. A deep frown creasing his features.

“I never called ye useless, Fin.” Rowan stepped forward, reaching out to grasp his chin lightly and turn his attention back towards her. “I jus’ don’t want ye hurtin’ yer’self more than necessary...Besides, if ye hurt y’er good arm, who’s going to milk the cows?”

Findley swatted her hand away with a playful glare as he cracked half a smile. “I got it handled.” He reassured in a sarcastic tone, shooting her a real glare as she reached out and ruffled his red hair affectionately.

“I’ll be back this afternoon. Do try an’ stay out of trouble, eh?” Rowan called over her shoulder as she pushed the front door open and stepped out into the brisk morning air; wolf in tow as he trotted along beside her happily, as they mosied down the path.

~

The day came to pass quite quickly for Rowan and her furry companion, Faolan. The pair making quick work of checking and resetting snares, before venturing a little deeper into the woods in search of some smaller game, before returning to the village to go about finishing up evening chores; the workload increasing as signs of Spring steadily approached. Soon they would be tilling fields to plant their crops, tending to the animals that would soon produce offspring, making repairs to homes, building new boats for trading travels...The list was truly endless, and Rowan looked forward to the distractions that the work promised.

Winters had become exceptionally difficult since suffering the loss of nearly her entire family. Everyday a struggle against the guilt that she kept bottled up inside. Rowan somehow feeling responsible for what had happened to her family; to Fin. Constantly replaying that day over and over in her head. Always wondering if things could have turned out differently, had she stayed home that day with her family. Maybe she could have protected them...Or maybe she would’ve shared in their fate. But then what would have become of poor Findley?

Rowan sighed as they paused to rest beside a small stream. Faolan letting out a soft whine as he rested his head against her thigh; sensing her distress. A small smile tugging at her lips as she gave him an affectionate scratch behind the ears, his warm, intelligent brown eyes drifting shut for a moment as gave a contented sigh. Rowan silently thankful that the gods had granted such a wonderful guardian to watch over her and Findley. The wolf coming into their lives not long after the deaths of their kin. Just a pup himself when Rowan had stumbled upon him in the forest...Still clinging to his own mother and siblings who had long since perished from starvation and cold.

The village had been less than thrilled to say the least, when Rowan brought the small bundle of fur home. Several of the elder woman trying to advise her that the beast could would never be tamed nor broken; But they couldn’t have been more wrong. For Faolan had been the key that aided them in their journey to healing...And they his. The wolf having more than earned his keep around the village since becoming part of their broken pack. 

“Suppose we should be gettin’ back, eh?” Rowan sighed softly as she gave the wolf a final pat on the head before standing. Gathering her game bag and slinging it over her shoulder as she turned her back to the steam. “Come, mo charaid…’Fore Fin starts worryin’.” Faolan let out a sharp series of yips in answer as he bounded from his spot, darting between the trees playfully for a moment before laying down a ways up the trail as he waited. Rowan letting out a small laugh at the wolfs antics as she quickened her pace, taking the hint as they hurried off. Head for their usual detour as they made the trek for home. ~

Dusk was approaching by the time the group finally reached the shores of a seeming desolate beach. The ships, as well as their men, battered from an unexpected storm that had caught them off guard a day prior. “We’ll camp here for now...Start salvaging what we can to make repairs come dawn, before continuing on to York.” Harald instructed once the boats had been pulled safely to shore; A fire started for the men to get warm as they assembled camp. Harald quick to assemble a plan for his men, in order to get moving again as soon as possible. Not pleased with the unexpected detour they had been forced to make on their journey to York.

“You three.” Harald turned to address a group of younger Viking men, who stood opposite him beside the fire. “Gather what wood you can; And you two,” He gestured towards a pair of more experienced men, usually assigned to watch. “Survey the area...I do not want any more unexpected surprises.” The men nodded, accepting their assigned duties before dismissing themselves. Harald letting out a sigh as he turned for one of the tents that had already been assembled...Taking a seat and grabbing a cup of mead, trying to quell his frustrations as he watched his men continue to set up camp. While Harald drank his frustrations away, the two experienced men set off up the beach, climbing the dunes on the beach and venturing into the forest beyond.

“Fine time to set up camp…” The first man grumbled as they trudged the Scottish land. The second man grunted in response as they settled on a spot and began building a small fire. The warmth from the flames doing little to warm the chill that had settled in their bones. “The cold here is different...I don’t like it.”

“They say we’re the heathens.” The first man chuckled. “Pass us the ale…” The second man obliged his friends request. Reaching over to grab the ale horn from beside his axe, taking a swig himself before passing it over and returning his hands to warm by the fire. As the men chatted away, Rowan made her way to the beach, stopping and dropping to the ground when she spotted the men encamped on the beach. Swearing in Gaelic, she gripped the scruff at Faolan’s neck to make sure he didn’t growl and give their position away. She took her bag off and strapped it around the beast’s.

“Go home, Faolan. I’ll be right behind ye.” Rowan whispered. The wolf let out a small whine before he turned away, making his way back to the village while Rowan stayed, counting the men so she could give an accurate report to the village elders. When her eyes met Harald’s, Rowan ducked and crawled along the brush until she was far enough into the foliage before she stood and hurried along behind Faolan.

“What was that?” The first man asked, looking up at the sound of twigs snapping. He reached down, fingers wrapping around the axe at his side as he scanned the surrounding area, looking for movement. Both men saw the flash of gray fur pass quickly by, followed by a flame of red hair; Visible even in the darkness. The second man motioned for the first to split off towards the left, while he tracked the intruders on the right. Trailing silently after them into the darkness of the woods, but eventually losing sight as the darkness became too much; Slowing their progress significantly.

“Go.” The second man ordered quietly, gesturing back towards the beach. “Tell King Harald what we’ve found, and assemble more men for a search. I will try and the trail.” The first man nodded and turned back towards camp. Leaving his companion to assemble a torch and continue the search.  

Meanwhile, Rowan continued to move swiftly through the darkness. Picking her way carefully over fallen debris and tangled tree roots as she strayed away from the main trail; attempting to lose the enemies who likely now pursued her, as she fled towards her village. Hoping she would have enough time to warn her people of a potential attack before it was too late. Anger and fear building inside of her chest as she pushed herself harder, bound and determined to not let her people suffer through another attack like they had all those years ago.

The sound of twigs snapping several feet away from behind her, made Rowan turn, a knot forming in her stomach as she spotted the faint glow of a torch coming over the small rise she had just climbed. Ducking behind a tree, she shielded herself from sight momentarily as she closed her eyes...Rowan’s heart sinking as she came to the realization that she would be unable to return to her village safely, without risking the exposure of their location to a potential attack. She knew what she had to do, but that didn’t make the choice any easier as she let out a soft, shaky sigh. Opening her green eyes as slipped the bow over her head carefully, and nocked an arrow. Sending up a silent prayer for the gods to protect her family — her people — before drawing back the sting of her bow, and stepping into the open. A steady breath leaving her lips as she released the arrow towards its target, the startled yelp that followed signaling that she had struck her target.

Rowan using the distraction as her opportunity to change directions, doubling back, as she began leading her enemy away from her village, and deeper into the woods. Another arrow nocked and ready to fire as she neared the next ridge; ducking behind another tree as she waited for the torch to appear again...Her heart rate quickening when she turned to find that the light had been extinguished. A wave of panic washed over her as she struggled to pick up on the faint footsteps that rustled from somewhere in the darkness. Unable to determine what direction they were coming from, Rowan was left to make a split decision, as she darted from behind the tree, hoping she could make a break for the treeline. 

The flash of red hair was all they needed, as Harald gave the signal for their own archer to take a shot; the man loosing the arrow as the rest of the men relit their torches. Harald watching as the form stumbled in the darkness, but only for a moment before darting off once more.  A smirk creeping onto his lips as they took up their pursuit once more, driving their prey back towards the edge of the forest, where more of his men lie in wait to capture whoever it was that they had been chasing all over the woods...But the small victory soon faded from his thoughts as bone chilling howl pierced the silence, followed by a series of snarls and growls that brought the group to a stand still.

Rowan stumbled as she ran through the treeline and out into the open, coming to stop as she was greeted by a rather unwelcoming sight, as a group of men closed in on her. Rowan quick to draw back the string of her bow in defense, ignoring the searing pain in her shoulder the action caused, from having been struck by an arrow herself. The edges of her lips quirking into a faint smirk as she heard the howl that broke the silence and caused several of the men to glance towards the treeline; Searching. Rowan seizing the opportunity to loose her arrow into the man nearest to her, watching as he crumpled to the ground as the arrow struck him between the eyes, her next arrow nocked before the man had even full collided with the earth. Another man lunged towards her, catching the second arrow as a series of shouts broke out amongst the group of men in front of her...Their words foreign to her as they spoke.

“Come on. Come get me, ye heathens…” She said with a smirk, fingering the feather fletching of her arrow. Rowan readied her bow again, waiting for the next victim to step forward and make their move. She knew that she stood very little chance against these men, but that didn’t mean that she would go down without a fight. Another series of shouts erupted from the woods, causing Rowan to turn and glance over her shoulder as the shouts quickly dissolved into one horrified scream that was followed by vicious snarling and the sounds of teeth ripping into flesh. Another man used her distraction to strike her with the hilt of his sword; sending Rowan to the ground as her vision blurred around the edges. A foot kicking her bow out of her reach as it approached from behind. Rowan struggling to focus on the man’s face as she glanced up, recognizing him as the man from the beach.

“Bind her and take her back to the beach.” Harald ordered as surveyed the two dead men that lie on the ground in front of him, before turning his attention to look down at the fiery haired woman who struggled against the two vikings who hauled her to her feet before their King. Allowing him a brief moment to examine her more closely as he grasped her jaw tightly, forcing her to look at him; Rowan’s eyes struggling to maintain focus as the edges over her vision started to turn black...The last thing she saw being a flash of gray fur, followed by nothing.

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

So that’s the first chapter! I hope ya’ll liked it...I also wanna add ((don’t quote me on it as I used google traslate)) that Mo charaid means ‘My friend’ Gaelic. And Faolan means Little Wolf.

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist for future updates!

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[courtlyharlequin]

Hey Alice... I think we’re lost. Please don’t get mad! If we just keep walking straight, we might be able to head out of the forest. As your guide, this little white rabbit can’t fail you here! But do tell me, Alice, did you multiply or am I seeing double vision? There’s five hundred of you!

Yes, five hundred! Five. Hundred. 5-0-0!!! Oh my goodness... this growth is absolutely insane especially since your journey down the rabbit hole started roughly about a month ago. Thank you for trusting me and the boys to lead you to a real happy ending. Thank you for not getting mad at me for disappearing every now and then.  And most importantly... thank you for not getting mad at me ahahaha! Do not panic. Remain calm. I know the way. I just need to start at the beginning... where is Ches- I mean- Chen’ya when I need him the most. Hey! Where are you off to? Come back this instant, Alice. These parts of Wonderland are dangerous! Ahhh I don’t think they can hear me anymore... Deary me... Oh look! A fork in the road! A sign too! Let’s see... what does it say....

Event Details:

Prologue:

Perhaps you should have listened to that hopeless guide of yours, the meek white rabbit that lead you to this Wonderland. As unreliable as she may be, she probably has a better sense of direction than you. She would serve as lovely company now in this dark and eerie forest. The clouds shroud the moonshine. You shiver in the cold, pulling your cloak closer for warmth but to no avail. The grip on your basket tightens as the wind howls and the leaves crunch beneath your feet. Even the slightest sound sent you into a panicked frenzy. You regret your decision. You thought you could make more progress but it seems that you dug a deeper hole. Where is that silly rabbit?

SNAP!

What was that? Oh... just a twig.

AWOOOOOOH!

And wolves too? Wonderful. Your pace quickens.

“Please, please, be dawn already!” you pray, running away from the source of those rather terrifying sounds.

Light on your feet and with a shaky breath, you ran as fast and as much as you could. The contents of your basket, snacks the little white rabbit packed for you, shook vigorously. They would probably crumbs by now. You lift the cloth wrapped around the carrier to check. And to no surprise they were. Nevertheless, every bit is present therefore if you submit to your hunger anytime now, broken cookies and biscuits would suffice.

“Later,” you chide yourself.

The task at hand is to find shelter for the night— preferably a cozy cottage of an elf or something of the sort, a safe haven where you could eat comfort food and spend the night. Wishful thinking. A cave would honestly do. You’re tired for crying out loud! What kind of shortcut did that rabbit have to take?

Oof!

Irritation blinds you. You didn’t see where you were going. Not to mention this cloak’s hood covers a good portion of your field of vision. You pull back the soft fabric to see what you collided with. The surface isn’t hard enough to be a tree nor is it furry enough to be a creature of the night. You brace yourself for the worst. 

Drawing back the hood, an ethereal site greets you. He’s gorgeous, something out a fairytale. Quite princely. Too princely. Too good to be true. His skin lacks sign life. His complexion is of a sickly pale. Something isn’t right.

He reaches for you. You step back in shock. 

“Are you lost little lamb?” a smug voice coos.

Event Rules:

First things first: don’t save the event banner edit (or any edit of mine, really). Just click on it for better quality. 

Okay now we can get to the actual rules and details~

Yes! Another milestone event~ I will save the cheesy thank you note for the end as this isn’t the section for lovemail and gushing.

Lost in the Woods is an event where you, the reader, somehow managed to get lost in a rather spooky forest with no company whatsoever. While running away from the many dangers of this place, you bump into a certain someone. Who is that someone? What do they do?

Imagine the rest of it! Tell me what you want to happen. What do you envision? Daydream away, but don’t be too specific! Tell me what kind of vibe do you want i.e. fluffy, spicy, spooky etc.

Here is an example: “The person before me was Riddle! Oh how glad am I to see him... he knows his way around Wonderland and now he’s offering to help me get out of the woods though it would seem that he’s hungry as well. I would like to share some snack with him~”

Another example if you don’t feel like writing out a scenario for me: “I bumped into Riddle and I would like to share snacks with him. I want a fluffy vibe.”

Something like that. And for all of these event related requests, please put a “🌙” somewhere in your request so I can sort them out.

This event is just like my Café Rosé Event albeit with a different concept and procedure.

However, unlike the previous event, I will be writing headcanons, scenarios, and oneshots for this event. My general requests are still closed so you cannot request anything that is not related to this event. Also note that you can only request once for this event so choose wisely!

And of course, all of my standard rules still apply.

This request acceptance period for this event will be from Sunday, September 20th @ 1:00AM PST to Tuesday, September 23rd @ 1:00AM PST.

That’s a total of three days.

It may change depending on how much requests I get for this event, but I am swamped with school work and three other requests are rotting in my inbox so keep that in mind.

If you have any questions, please message me or send an ask off anon so I can reply to you privately.

Author’s Note:

First and foremost, I would like to apologize to anyone looking forward to my twstOBer spree. While I have written several pieces for the event, this milestone it more important to me so I dropped that event. I’ll still post the ones I have written so there’s that. Plus this event is just as spooky~ But anyways-!! I said this many times throughout this post, but I’ll say it again: thank you, thank you, thank youuuu! A number like five hundred may seem small to other blogs, but to me, it’s a very big number. Moreover, I achieved this milestone in a mere month and a half! That’s insane to me. I’ve never had such rapid growth on any social media account before. Thank you all for reading and enjoying my writing. I know I’m not the most active or most socialable blog on this platform but you all mean a lot to me. Old or new, I appreciate all of you. I hope that you’ll continue to support me until the next milestone event: 1000 followers. See you then~