#their brushing and braiding gossip sessions

[malikselfindulgence]

Morshid brushes and braids Marek's hair every morning before they start their day and it's like the only time they'll have long conversations or talk about anything- something about how they're not facing each other helps the words flow easier. When Marek's hair is first cut short they don't do this for a day and it throws off their whole routine, and Morshid won't admit this [not out-loud], but he misses it. The next day, Morshid faces his back towards Marek and sits down without saying a word. Marek sits down behind him and starts braiding, and they start talking about everything and nothing at all

[elllisaaa]

can u do bf seungkwan thoughts please <33

BF!SEUNGKWAN who's both your partner but also your best friend.

one of his favourite things about you is that he can ramble to you without feeling you being uninterested because he knows you listen closely to every one of his words. everytime seungkwan needs to vent about a situation with someone or at work, he knows he can just yap for hours to you. and he likes it when you do the same, likes it even more when you're going on and on about a topic you like. i'm actually convinced that seungkwan keeps a list of all the things you like and dislike in his phone. on the same line, there's obviously gossiping sessions every week for the two of you - you settle with a hot drink on the couch and update each other on every ongoing drama or random thing that happened to you. that leads to seungkwan knowing every little annoying or funny person in your life, and even the names of your exes. he's the type to fake gag every time they are mentioned, but it's okay because you do the same with him. it's actually endearing how you can tease each other by making references to the things you gossip about and that only you and him understand.

"i have so many things to tell you when I get home tonight baby ! you're not gonna believe it."

seungkwan loves to spend some quality time with you. he's really busy because of his job, but every free moment he has, he spends it with you. even if it's just you coming to see him practice when you have time, or him sitting by your side while you're getting some work done, he's just happy to have your presence by his side, to feel that you're here with him. one of your rituals together is doing each other's skincare and hair. it's so relaxing to have your fingers applying creams and serum on his skin after a good shower, while you softly tell him about your day. and seungkwan does the same for you whenever you're tired, brushing your hair for you or braiding them when you don't have the energy either. another activity you love to do together is go shopping, be that for clothes, decorations items for your apartment, shoes and so on, you always have a good time and it allows him to offer some things to you. it's also an occasion to take cute pictures of the both of you on any mirror you cross, his gallery filled with these photos that he spends all his time looking at when he's away.

"i keep staring at your pretty face on my phone, i can't wait to come back to you."

another one of his love languages is physical touch. every night is worth cuddling, every time you snuggle on the couch together is worth wrapping his arms around you and pulling you on his lap, every time you cook is a chance to back hug you and kiss your shoulders. in conclusion, there's a bunch of cuddles all the time, not that you complain of course. also, seungkwan often gives you random kisses throughout the day - on your cheeks, your lips, your temples or your nose, he likes to see your cute smile every time he surprises you with another loving peck. whenever you praise him, he feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest from too much adoration, his cheeks growing red. he scolds you and asks you to stop only because he's shy and you both know it. seungkwan love for you is obvious to anybody, and that shows through the way he always finds a way to mention you in every conversation, even when you are not there. everytime he repeats a fact that you taught him, he just has to let everyone know who told him that.

"yeah, actually y/n told me that last week, she's so smart."

BF!SEUNGKWAN who is literally obsessed with your body and the way you react to his touch, wanting nothing more than to please you.

seungkwan needs to give you everything you want, you just have to ask for it. be that his fingers, his mouth, or his cock, he's ready to give them all to you. he literally worships your body every chance he gets, every time you wear something a little revealing or tighter, seungkwan loses his mind. he wants to touch you all the time, to have his hands on you all the time. he often overstimulates you unknowingly, driving you insane just because he cannot get enough of the way you look and react when you cum. your moans turns him on a lot too, he's drinking every little sound you make. sex with seungkwan is very passionate and intimate - as much contact as possible between your body and his, lots of kisses and marks all over both your skins. he's often holding your hands too - when he's fucking you lazily, when he's eating you out and even when you're going down on your knees to suck him off. seungkwan wants you to know that he loves you and cares for you throughout the whole thing.

"your body's so fucking beautiful baby, i can't get enough of you."

in fact, he loves your body so much that he needs to take more spicy pictures of you with him when he's away, or he's getting withdrawal. seungkwan has a private folder in his phone filled with videos and photos of you or the two of you to help him get off when you're not there. there's videos of you sucking him off, touching him, riding him, unraveling while he's eating you out. there's pics of you in lingerie, touching yourself, completely bare in your mirror, wearing tight clothes that makes him hard just thinking about it. he also loves to take polaroid pictures in these moments. he has to hide them very well to be sure that no one except the two of you will ever see them, but it turns him on even more to have a material object reminding him of how good you feel around him. seungkwan can be a tease sometimes, so he will put these polaroïds in your bag sometimes or around the house for you to find them at such random moments, wanting nothing more than getting you turned on enough so that it would lead to the bedroom. also, he will lose his mind if you surprise him with new polaroids of you before he goes away, slipping them in his suitcase and he doesn't notice until he unpacks at the hotel.

"you're crazy, one of the guys could have seen this !" - "does this mean you don't like them ?" - "don't start, you know i'm gonna jerk off to your gorgeous body later."

again, intimacy is really important for seungkwan whenever the two of you are having a moment. and the highest form of intimacy in his eyes is when you let him cum inside of you. sure, he likes to just pull out and watch his release cover your pretty body. sure, he liked it when you deepthroat him and make him shoot his load down in your mouth. he loves it all. but he feels even better, even closer to you when you let him cum inside of your pussy. having your legs and arms wrapped around him, your moans falling directly in his ears, his hands holding your waist, and your walls milking him dry is definitely the best feeling ever. seungkwan insisted on keeping up with the condoms for a long time - he doesn't want to be a father just yet, he wanted to be sure that you were doing okay with your contraception. but the day he sank into you raw, his world was changed and he never wanted to come back in time. it felt like heaven every time, and he came embarrassingly fast the first time, even today, he's still not used to feeling your wet cunt without any barriers.

"s-shit… you feel so good, i'm not gonna last."

[bidisastersanji]

The more I think about long hair Sanji the more unhinged I get.

Sanji unconsciously tucking his hair behind his ear or toying with it when he gets shy or nervous

Messy bun Sanji, Sanji putting his hair up with his tongue sticking out or a cute little concentrated look on his face

Sanji snapping his hair into a high ponytail as he goes into battle

Sanji quickly learning that ponytails are maybe not the best suited for battle after all, after it painfully whips into his eye in the midst of a sparring session with Zoro

Sanji hiding behind curtains of his hair when he’s feeling vulnerable/sad

Sanji sighing as he lets his hair down after a long day, messy curls showering his shoulders in a prefect frame (not pictured : a blushing swordsman)

Sanji wearing fun headbands or even a hairnet after he finds one (1) hair in a dish someday (Usopp actually put it there as a prank, Sanji was always very careful, and definitely makes him pay for it when he finds out)

Sanji going to the hair salon with the girls and Usopp to get hair treatments, their nails done (and gossip)

Sanji with braids and complex hairdos for days where he wants to elevate how he looks in his crisp suits (sometimes he adds in some literally killer heels to complete the look)

Zoro making fun of Sanji for how much longer he takes getting ready/showering now that his hair is long, only to eat his words when he runs into him one day, hair still wet, clinging to his skin and oozing tantalizing droplets down his bare chest and under the towel tucked at his hips

Chopper going muscle point to try and braid Sanji’s hair (he’s surprisingly gentle and adept, his hands already used to fine work from surgery)

Franky finding it fun to mirror Sanji’s hairdos with the press of his nose, and always trying to convince him to do crazy hairstyles- like matching cola bottle shaped hair (Sanji threatens to burn his favorite speedo if he ever approaches him with the foul product he calls gel)

Zoro being hypnotized by Sanji detangling and brushing his hair every night by candlelight

Zoro aching to run his hands through those cascading golden locks that always catch his eye, wondering how silky it must feel, and if Sanji would like how it feels to have someone play with it

[minminbunny]

So I see lots of fem!skz dranbleiben on other blogs and stuff and everything, but I prefer your style of writing and what do you think about writing some female skz os after your little hiatus? 👀

Genderbend AU - Hyung Line/Gender Neutral! Reader

*I can do a quick one in bed🙂‍↕️

Bang Chan

Since he'd be the eldest daughter, I feel like his perfectionist drive would be stronger than it is now. Predebut Chris would be very icy and cold just to make sure everything is in order only to be maternal once it's all done.

"What did I say about practice time?" Chan asked, crossing her arms. You gulped, averting her burning gaze, "To always be on time," you said, her disappointment heavy on your shoulders. Chan sighed, brushing back his hair, "After practice, you're going to stay back for another round, understood?" She warned, raising an eyebrow.

"Baby? Come here, I need your thoughts on the demo," she said, tugging you onto her lap. You placed on her headphones, listening to the rough draft, "It's could use a bit more ensemble during the chorus," you murmured, jolting it down. Chan chuckled, braiding your hair, "I thought so too. Thank you, Agi," she said, patting your back

I feel like she'd be a gym mommy. Stunning ass, stunning body. Her big hugs are just a full face of chest, and they're soft and supple that you'd just melt or cry in them.

Lee Minho

Very leaning into the cat-like behaviour. I feel like most characteristics would be turned up by 10% as girls. The more she's comfortable, the more open these behaviours tend to shine. There's no holding back, like when we see them as guys.

"Min, you're smouldering me," you whined, trying to shift her off. Minho gave you a quick look and ignored your complaints. You groaned, running your fingers through her hair, "Don't suddenly bite me. I'm being gentle," you said, careful dragging your fingers through her knotted hair.

Minho hummed, "I'm making dinner. Be sure to bring your tupperware so you can share with the girls," she said, patting your thighs. You nodded, holding back the urge to roll your eyes, "Yes, mom," you said, watching her get off your lap like nothing happened.

She'd be lean, firmer near her waist. Imagine her body like Momo from twice. Dancers having dancers bods. She'd like to paw the members, squishing their ass, chest, arms. Anything she could touch.

See Changbin

That old older sister, with a short fuse, most of the time, is playful. 10/10 would call you a bitch endearingly. Like that one clip where Bin almost flipped Minho off. However, that one time, it's serious. The dorm better be mess free, nothing must be in the sink, and nothing must be out of place or else. The moment she sees something out of place and yells your full name, you know you are done for.

"Get down here, right now!" Changbin yelled, tapping her foot on the carpet. You gulped, making your way to her, "I can explain," you said, fidgeting with your fingers. Changbin sighed, looking at the damp laundry still in the machine, "Explain your your ass is whooped," she warned.

Of course, big muscle mommy. Easily can throw you over her shoulder for a spanking. After every session, it's a grantee cuddle moment. Soft tummy, biceps holding you close, her palm rubbing soothing balm on your red ass. She'd dote you after that with kisses.

Hwang Hyunjin

We all know SKZ family and mother Hyun. She's elegant, demure, and artistic. Definitely one to mingle with the younger members to coo and dote on. She'll do their hair, paint their nails, and not the one hair curler type styling. She has the full set, leave in moose, bangs fixing spray, and even those salon style steamer. She has it. Sure, if there a public appearance, the stylist will have their theme, but for her off days or breaks, those are the things she's dragging the other to do with her.

"Did you hear the latest internal gossip between those two groups?" Hyunjin asked, buffing your nails. You raised an eyebrow, "Which one?" you asked, liking the shine on your cuticles. Hyunjin chuckled, showing you an insta story, "It's so obvious," she giggled, spilling on and on about the things she knew and heard off. Then it's your turn to spill back. These types of talks can go for hours with her.

Her body is lean but filling in the chest and ass area. Her walk in heels have a sway in them. One that's hypnotising until people start saying that she's blessed by aphrodite. Tall, stunning, definitely more model run ways.

[ricardian-werewolf]

5. Sometimes we walk hand in hand by the sea.

Ao3 link

Summary;

The Winter Fête comes, and with it, Alina is forced to see where her loyalties lie, and what will become of her when push comes to shove. Nikolai is forced to wrestle with his feelings, and Genya plots and plans in the background.

Chapter below the cut.

Alina approached the idea of the Winter Fête with a sense of palpable anxiety.

No matter that she could summon fully after her explosion on the lake, but what filled her with fear now was what the Darkling planned to do with her. She’d kissed him one night on the lake sometime after - her memories from the time before her powers breaking through were fragmented - but this silence from him scared her. Not even Genya’s gossip sessions in her office could bring Alina out from her state of imposed anxious isolation. She’d shunned her studies and classes, locking herself in her room for days. It’d taken Nikolai’s offer of tea with him and Baghra in the old woman’s hut to coax Alina from her hole.

Now, she sat on her window seat in her room and watched the indentured inferni serfs light the lamps that stretched down to the gates. Soon, the carriage-way would be filled with horses and wagons containing Ravkan nobles, their servants and indententured Grisha sold out to wealthy families. Alina winced. Wasn’t that her purpose in Nikolai’s household? He’d given her a generous salary to use freely, food, clothes, and housing, but at the end of the day she served him.

In a way, she served the Darkling too. It seemed that no matter where she turned, there was always a man who held her puppets' strings in his fingers. Brushing her hands against the velvet of her bedrobe, Alina tilted her head back and glanced up at the atrium light. Stars glittered dimly in the distance, pushed to the far reaches of the sky from the gas-lamps that trickled in through the Fold’s crossings. Around her bed, gas fixtures had been exchanged for a flameless lamp set that Nikolai called Anbaric light.

“There you are!” Genya crowed, pushing the double doors of Alina’s bedchamber open. Alina’s head twisted to regard the ginger-haired Tailor and gave a soft smile, though pain clouded it easily enough. “Ready for the night?”

“No.” Alina breathed. “My Kefta still isn’t here yet…”

“Luckily, I have it!” Genya held out the box, wrapped with an emerald green ribbon. “It seems there was a bit of a fumble with regards to which kefta you were supposed to wear. I wouldn’t be half shocked if Nikolai and the Darkling were out having fisticuffs in the Palace courtyard.”

“Over what I’m supposed to wear?” Alina blinked. She knew, instinctively, why. Nikolai held command over her, yet the Darkling was her commanding officer. She had a feeling Nikolai had much better taste than the Darkling, though her feelings towards him complicated all of this. However could one woman fall in love with two men at once?!

Except… She didn’t really love the Darkling. Part of him scared her senseless. His wantings for her to have Morozova’s stag’s antlers frightened her. Was it out of goodness or a desire to control her? And why make the antlers a collar? Why not a crown? Or a fragment of the larger antler? Or a bone of the bloody creature?

“Lost in thought?”

Alina jumped in her seat at the sound of Nikolai’s voice and looked up, smiling at the sight of him in the doorway. He wore something that surprised her - an emerald green hussar uniform with the pelisse swung easily over his left shoulder. The miles and miles of braid and buttons had to have been his work.

“I didn’t know you served in a hussar regiment.” She quirked a brow.

“I was in the 22nd for a good few years, yes, but I did develop a love for the hussars. Spent a few months with a Russian regiment…” He trailed off and fiddled with one of the buttons. His court sword rested at his waist, the gold hilt and guard embossed with a fox running under a crescent moon. Emeralds studded the sword’s hiltpoint.

“You look dashing.” Genya breathed. “And so will you-” bopping Alina’s nose, Genya lifted the box-lid of Alina’s kefta. In the depths, under a layer of soft green tissue paper, was an emerald green and gold kefta. The twin to Nikolai’s hussar uniform, the gold embroidery was done all the way down the front and side panels to resemble a sun-burst. The strands twirled their way down the bodice and stretched around to the back, which draped down into a long, long train. That train pooled behind Alina in a single sweep of emerald velvet and satin blend, brightened with a fabrikator’s touch.

“H-how?”

“Consider it a gift.” Nikolai poked Alina towards the wooden screen for her to change. Genya helped her with the kefta, buttoning it up the front and fluffing out the train and belt. The gold center-pin of a sunne in splendour glittered in the lamp-light. “Hair…” Genya murmured as Alina was poked over to her dressing table. “Nikolasha, ideas?”

“None.” Nikolai replied from where he’d perched himself on Alina’s sofa and sat sipping tea while watching Genya comb, brush and whack Alina’s hair into form. Alina’s hair was long and thick enough to be braided into an elaborate chignon and pinned up with several gold-hairpins edged with seed pearls.

“Whatever did the Darkling send?” Alina asked, turning to look at Nikolai as he lifted the lid on the second box and pulled out a black and gold Kefta emblazoned with more gold embroidery and dangling from the collar, his symbol.

“Ugh, put it back.” Genya shuddered. Alina got up and went over, touching the water-like silk and satin blend with a gentle finger. “He kissed me, at the lake, a few nights back.” She confessed, looking up to see two sets of eyes locked on her. “Must be why he sent this…” She flinched.

“Did you ask for that kiss?” Genya whispered

“No.” Alina’s gaze locked on Nikolai, who nodded firmly and sipped more of his tea. “That settles it.” He glanced at Genya, who sighed and wrung her hands. Something was shared between them, something Alina would never experience.

“It felt nice, but wrong. Like he was trying to take something from me.” Alina ran her fingers over her rouged lips and blinked in confusion. “I’ve never been kissed before, so…”

“It’s not supposed to feel like that.” Genya supplied. “I mean…” She looked at Nikolai again and he nodded. “She’s right. Here’s my advice for tonight. Give him a berth of about..” He tilted his head up to look at Genya through his lashes.

“30 feet,”

“And go from there. If he continues to pursue, alert a servant. We’ve all had our fair share of ugly pursuers.” Genya murmured, rubbing at the back of her neck with her hand. Alina blinked, confused. Then, it fell into place.

“The King’s raped you. That’s why he’s sick.” She got to her feet and glanced at Nikolai, who looked not at Genya, but the empty space where the royal portrait would’ve been. His eyes hardened, full of hate and rage. “What’d you do?”

“I did it.” Nikolai replied. “Dominik and I. We’re not blind, Alina. He’s been lusting after Genya since we were all about ten or eleven. She was just too young. But once she turned 16, all bets were off.” He winced. “My mother let it happen.” the glass in his hand cracked. His thumb effortlessly healed the fissures.

“We should get going, or we’ll be late. They’re lighting the lamps.” Genya looked out from the bay windows to the garden path, and moved back to the other two. “I’ll need to go see what the Queen needs. I trust you two can get downstairs without too much error?”

Alina nodded, poking Nikolai in the ribs. He snorted, and offered his arm. Alina took it, and let Genya pin the kefta’s matching fur cloak at her neck. Then, they were off. Genya broke off from the group at a servants' passage and Alina and Nikolai turned to go down the winding stairs of the Great Palace. As they moved, unevenly matched for height, Alina opened her mouth, remembering the Apparat’s words to her in the infirmary.

“When I was sick, after Zoya gave me that concussion…” She began, watching Nikolai’s face. “The Apparat came to my room. I don’t know why. He’s been following me. Saying how I’m destined for greatness or some other such thing.” She shivered. The coldness of that memory seeped into her bones and she gripped the marble bannister for balance.

“He’s worse than the Darkling.” Nikolai murmured in her ear, watching the little knots of gathered foreign diginitaries, Grisha and Ravkan noble families below them. “He and I have… an old history.” He hinged, then moved to change the topic suddenly.

“Chin up. You’re glowering, sunshine.”

“I’m nervous.” She bit back. “And a bit… afraid. What if the performance doesn’t go well?” She almost tilted forwards too far and risked falling down the stairs in a jagged, broken heap. Nikolai pulled her back by her arm and held her close to him. “No such chance. Besides, if you do faint or blow up something, that’s nothing. I did worse at your age.”

“Like what?” She breathed. His easy charm always seemed to calm her, and she found herself needing it now more than ever. Looking up into his hazel eyes, she wondered what being inside his mind was like. This chaotic, charming prince who was her liege lord, friend… and crush.

Oh Saints. If I confess that, I’ll be the laughing stock from here to Kiribirsk!

“I once, at fourteen, switched out the salt and sugar service for tea after the dinner for the fete and sent the Fjerdan delegation into cardiac arrest. I did it partly because I’d gotten so badly… shunned by Vasily for any potential partners.” He winced and looked behind them to see if they were being followed.

“Oh.” Alina looked down. “Well if its any consolation, I’d be happy to dance with you tonight.”

“Really? Sunshine, you flatter me.” Nikolai’s grin, so open and warm, sent a jolt through her.In a way, they were two sides of the same coin. Once they finally reached the ballroom, Nikolai escorted her through several smaller salons stuffed with visitors who oohed and aahed over the sight of the Sun summoner so healthy and clad in emerald green and gold. Normally, she’d been in Etheralki blue, but concessions had to be made.

“Why emerald green?”

“Old royal colors.” Nikolai explained as he effortlessly plucked two crystal glasses of champagne off a passing tray and handed Alina one. “Not my favorite, but I suspect this is your first time?” He murmured, indicating the glass in her hands.

Alina sniffed the glass and then sipped it hesitantly. Her puckered face, expecting something dry like kvas, softened at the sweetness. “It’s good. Really good.” She took another sip. “Imported from the champagne region of France. Very expensive.” Nikolai informed her as they worked the room. He introduced her to generals and members of the Tsar’s cabinet, representatives of the two houses of the Duma, foreign ministers, and civil service workers prestigious enough to come to such an event. Alina could see through the crowd on the raised dias, the Tsaritsa and Tsar presiding over all.

“Vasily?”

“Drunk somewhere with a whole harem of courtesans.” Nikolai replied automatically. “I clocked him leaving as we were coming in.” They wove their way through a crowd of fawning debutants, who coyly tried for Nikolai’s hand.

“No, ladies, apologies, my hands are occupied tonight.” He waved his dance card in the air and made vaguely compassionate sounds at the womens respective cries of agony. Alina privately thought they were all going to rip his clothes off and shame him for not opening offers of marriage.

“Are you… courting?” Alina asked as soon as they were drifting through the ranks of officers of the First and Second Armies. This was much more Alina’s prefered clique. She could mingle easily with generals and officers who’d actually fought their battles instead of preaching from on high.

Nikolai snorted into his champagne.

“Not a chance, Miss Starkov. Not a chance.”

“Really?” Alina blinked in surprise. “But…”

“Nope.” He shook his head, something coming over his expression that made Alina shut her mouth. She knew that she was set to present her powers to the court… but when? She looked up at Nikolai as he talked with General Pensky, discussing the new repeating rifle Fjerda was improving in low tones. She hovered nearby for a few moments, then pushed through the crowd and began to circle the room alone. Across the hall, she could see Nadia and Adrik speaking about something in low tones, their sapphire blue keftas winking in the candle-light overhead.

Alina’s eyes rose to regard the ceiling above, painted in a fresco of the Firebird, wings spread wide over the expanse as it flew over the steeples of the old Os Alta. The Old city had been burned to the ground by Fjerdan forces in their invasion in 1453, with the fall of Constantinople and end of the Byzantine Empire. Vauban had rebuilt and reinforced the old city’s walls before his death in 1707, the last job he’d undertaken in his lifetime. The odd, star-shaped pattern of the old city was not lost on the Russian dignitaries of Peter the Great who visited after the Tsar’s ascendancy in 1721. Catherine had been a great patron of the Ravkan court before the treaty of Os Kervo that split Ravka from a russian protecterate to an independent nation state.

Now, the great bear was at the gates again, with the Fjerdan dire-wolf and Shu Han phoenix eating away at Ravka’s borders. But it’d always been like this. Sandwiched between two great powers, Ravka was losing the war it had fought over centuries. Alina’s gaze lowered and she spotted Genya crossing the ballroom floor to speak with a fellow servant. With whatever being secured, she crossed to the dias and took her place at the Tsarina’s shoulder, winking at Alina as the crowd parted around her.

“Ah, Miss Starkov.” The velvety tones of the Darkling’s voice reached her ear before Alina even had time to register it. She jerked her eyes up to look him straight in the face and blinked in wide-eyed fear. The expression on his face was one of pure shock and anger.

“I see you’ve chosen to wear… the royal colors tonight.” He growled in her ear as he grabbed her left arm in his hand. His fingers encircled her elbow, digging tight into the flesh. “I thought I gave Miss Safin specific orders to burn this wretched piece of cloth.”

“And was your black kefta not the same?” Alina breathed. She didn’t want to be pulled away to some dark corner and beaten into submission. Whatever feelings of affection Alina had for him evaporated. Something within him frightened her senseless, and she twisted in his grasp. She was supposed to keep 30 feet away from him tonight, and yet, she’d let him pounce like some predatory animal.

“What’re you here for?” She asked, looking him in the eye and raising her voice to do so. Her features furrowed into a mask of calm acceptance, though every cell in her body was itching to blind him and kick him out from under her. Somewhere, she desperately hoped that Nikolai was watching everything.

“To escort you to the stage for your little performance.” He jerked her forwards, unsteadying her. Aina would’ve fallen flat had her boot not hit Nikolai’s. She smashed straight into his left side and he grabbed her, effortlessly scooping her up and placing her back on her feet without a murmur of protest.

“Kirigan.” Nikolai smirked.

“Moi Tsarevich.”

“I see you’ve rather upset Miss Starkov. Mind unhanding her?” His voice dropped, turning colder than Alina had ever heard it. The Darkling flinched visibly and the vice grip on Alina’s arm fell. Turning to thank him, she didn’t get the chance for the Darkling had Feydor and Ivan escort her to the stage. As she passed through the crowd, Alina saw Nikolai’s hazel eyes well with pain, adoration and something like love.

Then, she was swallowed up by the glittering gowns and colored keftas, and he melted back into the emerald and olive grove of the First Army. Alina wanted to reach for him, to pull him back. Most of all, she wanted to confess her innermost thoughts and feelings about her fox-prince. But, she couldn’t.

As the light spilled from her hands and filled the ballroom with golden light, all Alina thought of was the Darkling’s dark glare upon her. Never again would she fall into his good graces. Never would she in good conscience be safe with him. But some part of her, foolish and frightened as it was, wanted him. She wanted to be as powerful as he was, to rule alongside him. But logic had to win out in this case, certainly?

She raised her hands regardless, letting her light fill the room and decking their visitors in golden warmth. Let them feel the sunlight for once, let them realize that it was in this single moment that her holiness was something to be cherished. But the Darkling would use it for power. Certainly he wanted to destroy the Fold, but she was little more than the piece that would unlock a world beyond Kiribirisk. She was his queen, his Sol Koroleva. She would have no future if she would not bend the knee - to survive meant submission.

So, she did. With some scraping and bowing, Alina found herself being dragged from the ballroom in a cloak of shadows. She tried desperately not to think of what the Darkling intended for her as his lips found hers in his darkened office. His hands on her kefta’s folds, proclaiming the emerald silk as a sin… all of that heat made her forget just how much she hated him.

Get up. Wake up, Alina

But she couldn’t. His kisses were like opium, dragging her under into a whirlpool of deceit and danger. If she forgot herself, she’d be lost forever. Too soon for his liking, Alina was pulling back, putting her hand up to deflect his affections.

“No.” She whimpered. “Please, no.”

“You shift so suddenly, Milaya.” The Darkling growled, reaching up to touch her cheek. “Are your affections perhaps… misplaced?”

“N-no!” She stammered, feeling the sharp bite of the wooden armoire she’d been so easily shoved into by his greedy hands. Outside, raucous song and laughter pierced the air and someone bumping into the door made Alina stir for hope of an interruption. Yet, the Darkling’s arm to steady the door dashed her desires into shards.

A swift knock at the inner door to the Darkling’s western sitting room stirred him from his hungry langour and he snapped:

“Who is it?”

“Ivan, *Moi Soveryeni. The trackers have arrived with news of Morozova’s Herd. I showed them to the library.”

“Bring them here. At once.”

“Yes,” Ivan murmured from behind the blackened oak wood, and Alina twisted in the Darkling’s grasp as his footsteps receded.

Within minutes, Ivan had returned with a team of trackers… and Mal.

Alina, who’d not seen her childhood friend in half a year, stilled dead at the sight of him. She, her kefta and skirts hiked up to her knees, being pinned against an armoire in rooms so certainly the Black Generals, made Mal’s face whiten, then flush with color.

“Alina.” He snapped, coming to her as the Darkling was quickly distracted by an incoming telegram. “What in the Saints name-”

“I didn’t ask for this!” She hissed, her voice filled with panic and fear. She looked up at him in hopes that he’d be on her side, but suddenly, the cold look on his face frightened her. His face was a mask of pure fury, and he looked down at her gloved hands in disgust and pity.

“Shameful, spreading your legs. Have you no honor?” He leered. “And I saw you in that throne room with all your pretty little lights. You’re a freak.”

“F-freak.” She stammered, rage filling her. “I am this blasted country’s savior, you ass.” She growled. Her anger of months of no letters and the hunger of being held back by a need to protect him exploded out in a verbal diatribe that went deep and hard.

Mal barely blinked. He shifted easily from foot to foot as she snarled and snapped her teeth, looking strangely bored. Then, when she’d finished and leaned against the Darkling’s desk with her eyes popped wide, he struck back. The Darkling had vacated his rooms in search of Feydor and a proper map of Northern Ravka, so only Alina heard Mal’s cruel, pointed and poisoned words.

“I know you don’t really feel that way, Alina. You’ve just been isolated for too long. Stuck up in this palace. You don’t know what you’re saying, what you’re feeling. Evidently this grisha magic’s gotten into your head. It made you think and see things that aren’t really happening.” He scoffed.

“Besides, how could anyone really love you? You’re just some weak stick from Kermazin who got lucky one day. You’re probably half mad with hysteria. You of all girls know how easy it is to get one's humors unbalanced.” He added, turning on his heel. Alina’s eyes swam with tears and she vainly threw a hand over her mouth to suppress her broken sobs.

“N-no, I am not mad!” She cried, lurching after him on her unsteady feet. “I’m not! Please, Mal, I’m sorry!”

“Besides, what do you matter to me anyways? You seem to have settled in nicely in this grand palace and forgotten all about us in the First Army. Typical, bratty Alina, always doing what’s best for her and no one else.” He sniffed, his hand on the door. As he watched her limp towards him, Mal laughed cruelly.

“Still trailing after me like some wet, damp, floundering puppy. Enjoy the rest of your Saint Nikolai feast day, Sobachka.” He winked, then slammed the door shut. The strength of his movement extinguished the lamps and Alina fell to her knees in tears. She pressed her forehead to her sweating palms and wept openly. Her pain made her curl in on herself as the rage and sadness of so many months in splendid isolation crept over her like some dark fog.

Raising her head, Alina glared up at the skylight to the moon overhead, and opened her palm. A faint glimmer of light pulsed there, and she closed her fist around it. Tucking her hand to her chest, she leaned forwards and laid her head against the cold obsidian and marble checkered floor. The coldness of the stone leached the warmth from her skin, and Alina briefly wondered if she could die here of a broken heart.

Yet, a movement got her up. She was barely able to register what was happening, but suddenly strong arms wrapped around her. Alina found herself being dragged through a hidden bookshelf doorway in the Darkling’s library. Down a steep set of spiral staircases she was carried, her booted feet hitting the step at each turn. Whoever was carrying her groaned from the pain.

“W-where are you taking me?” She asked.

“Away.” The voice replied, and Alina realized that Baghra was carrying her.

“Baghra?” Alina breathed, craning her head.

“Put your head down, or your jugular’ll get cut open when we get down to the basement. There’s stalgamites down here, girl.” With a swift wrench of her hand, Baghra had yanked Alina’s gloves off and dumped her like a sack of potatoes onto the floor. Looking up at her, Alina breathed in wide-eyed amazement. She’d seen Baghra looking younger the day her power had finally manifested, but this… this was different.

Inky black curls poured down the woman’s back and her face was youthful, perhaps a few years Alina’s senior. She adjusted her mourning sarafan and paisley shawl, then leaned forwards in her black leather button-boots.

“Get up and do cease looking so gormless. Now, what can you tell me, girl?”

“A-about what?” Alina looked confused, glancing around her. A flickering candle lent them only a little light, and she had to squint to see. Baghra’s expression remained hardened and her lips thinned into a line. Suddenly, the stick that the old woman had so recently used as a crutch came down upon Alina’s leg with a hard thwack

“Ow!”

“The stag, Girl! I don’t care if the Darkling tried to rid your head of conscious thought, but you must’ve learned something!”

Alina blinked, remembering the words before Mal’s outburst. She blinked rapidly, trying to recall it, then the memories came unbidden and she lurched forwards. Gripping her kefta’s skirts in her hand, Alina shuddered and shook her head.

“H-he found the herd. The trackers he sent… did.” She breathed, then noted Baghra’s whitened face. “I-is that bad? I thought that the stag was a good thing-”

“No, you foolish girl, it is not! If the Darkling gains power over the stag and places it on your neck, he controls your power. What is given freely is also taken freely. Like calls to like and all of that old nonsense.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and paced back and forth.

“Nikolai! Genya!” She called out suddenly. Alina’s eyes widened as Nikolai emerged first, brushing shadows from his coat like they were lint dust. At his shoulder, Genya emerged secondly, dressed in a peasant’s sarafan and brightly colored shawl. Both of them were dressed in peasant clothes and looked entirely joyous about it.

“We don’t have much time. I need you out of these clothes. Put on the sarafan and hide your hair. The moment you’re ready, I’ll explain.” Baghra shoved Alina behind a worn wooden changing screen, and the sun summoner quickly tore off her kefta and pulled on the weathered peasant dress and matching shoes. Her hair was left untouched, though she did pull a headscarf over it.

As soon as she was done, Alina poked her head out and blinked owlishly at Baghra.

“Yes?”

“Right. Your main job is to get to West Ravka, and from there, safety.” Baghra explained, casting a pointed glance at Nikolai, who nodded and offered her a courtly bow and grin. “Oh, do stop it, Sobachka.” She smacked his arm fondly, though a grim smile did cross her face.

“W-what about the Stag?” Alina asked. “Shouldn’t we intercept the hunting part-”

“Not a chance.” Baghra snapped, looking now to Genya. “Your job is to get to safety as quickly as you can. The travelling troupes are leaving before the midnight bell. There’s a caravan of Kerch who’ve come to replay the Komedie Brute. Their carriage is large enough to hide three peasant adults.” She pulled out three small coin bags and passed them each to their respective owners, then handed off three different items.

For Nikolai, she gave him a collapsible long-glass, which he slipped into a pants pocket. Genya received several vials of plant matter, which she tied to her own belt alongside her coin purse. Alina received a new pair of gloves, except not fitted with mirrors. Hers were fingerless, and stitched with gold thread in the shapes of little sunbeams.

“Fabrikator made. They’ll help dull your light when you cast.” Baghra explained gruffly. She made a vague shooing motion, a soft smile finally cracking her face. “Travel well, you three. May the saints watch over your wretched souls.” She paused, then looked to Nikolai.

“Nikolasha?” She asked as Genya helped Alina button her coat. Nikolai turned from examining his new long-glass and stared Baghra in the eye. “Keep an eye out for hawks in the trees, and shadows in your path.” She kissed his cheek, and to his ears alone, added: “I love you, Moi Lyubov. I will always be your mother whenever you need me.”

Her face hardened again and she nodded curtly at Alina. “Travel safely, Sun Summoner. May good fortune find you in the West.” She murmured, the traditional parting greeting for travelers. Alina smiled, bowed her head.

“And may peace find you in the eastern rays of the morning sun.” She repeated, giving the old woman a little wave of farewell. Genya kissed both of Baghra’s cheeks and received a whispered exchange of adoration. Then, something else:

“I’ll ensure that he never comes to touch you again. You are safe now, Moya Milaya.”

Genya sniffled, and gently kissed Baghra’s cheek affectionately. Then, with a wave of her hand, Alina led them off into the darkness of the caverns below the palace. Before them lay West Ravka, and behind lay only pain, fear and the threat of loss of everything dear.

It was with heavy hearts and light feet that the three misfits and bastards fled to the sanctuary they so deserved - Os Kervo, and beyond that, the whole world.

End of chapter 5.

[dark-elf-writes]

Can I ask 💝 for any or all of the rooftops? That includes our beloved cloud boy!

Send in a character or characters and an icon and I’ll give you…

💝 A headcanon about their love language

Shouta

Acts of service but like in a way no one would never notice.

It’s Hizashi’s preferred tea always being in the cabinets. It’s a pillow always in the exact place Nemuri likes to sprawl when she gets stressed out, exactly where she lays her head every time. It’s Oboro’s shrine being meticulously cared for even though no one ever sees someone do it. Not even on the cameras.

It’s compression gloves on Izuku’s desk and microfiber cloths tucked in the exact place he knows Tenya will look. It’s two dozen of the fluffiest blankets he could find stashed in every nook and cranny in the dorms that his kids could possibly look in. It’s a thousand little things that no one would ever notice but all of them appreciate.

Hizashi

Quality time. For all that Hizashi doesn’t shut up his love language is quality time. With three jobs Hizahsi is always being pulled in one direction or another but he always has time to gossip with Nem about whatever idiot confessed his love to her Thai week. Always is around for Shouta to lean against when he needs a quick nap. Always, without fail, visits Oboro’s shrine in UA on his birthday and the anniversary of his death to tell him about the things he’s missed just in case there is an afterlife so his friend won’t have to feel so alone.

He doesn’t have set office hours if the kids have questions because they are always welcome to come to him if he’s at the school and ask. He spends hours helping Kyoka balance her love for heroic and her love of music to lesson a bit of her guilt. He has open study sessions where he helps Denki with not just English but with whatever subject he’s having problems with. He’s there for when Ochako finally breaks, so tired of being alone before the dorms and having the same schedule as her parents so she can’t just call them. Whenever someone needs him he’s there with open arms and his signature smile.

Nemuri

Words of affirmation. even before she was a teacher she was the older sister of the group. ‘I love you’ of course has always fallen so easily from her lips for the smallest of things. But it was always more than that.

‘I’m believe in you’ she tells shouta every time he gets that haunted, desperate look in his eyes like he’s sixteen again and unsure of his place in the world. ‘I’m proud of you’ she breathes into Hizashi’s hair whenever he’s bitten his nails down to jagged nubs, a signal that he misses a smoke (one that he hasn’t touched since they were seventeen and Shouta pitched his last pack into a river). ‘you did your best’ she tells a picture not the one at his shrine. Never at the shine. He wouldn’t be there anyway. He would be following them on one of his clouds, laughing as they playacted at being responsible adults and teasing them for getting so old.

‘You’ve come so far’ she tells Yuuga, brushing his hair back out of his eyes. ‘You are enough’ she tells Momo, wiping tears from her cheeks. ‘I’m proud of you.’ She tells all of them, these children that have become soldiers. These kids holding their crumbling world together with bloodstained hands. These babies cracking under the pressure but trying so hard. She tells them all time and time again as many times as they need to hear.

Oboro

T O U C H. The cloud boy is a clingy one at all times. He flops on Shouta like a massive weighted blanket to keep him feeling warm and safe when he naps. He braids Hizashi’s hair, humming off key to whatever song they have playing and telling him how cool it would be to take his usual spiky style and made it way bigger like a calling card. He paints Nemuri’s nails, calloused hands from hours of practicing with his bo staff so gentle as he wipes away streaks of color until he gets them perfect.

And in the PYT AU

He kisses Inko’s face until she’s laughing, breathless and with tears in her eyes as she bats at his chest. He lifts an arm without thinking to accept Izuku flopping on him when they’re burnt out and need to recharge. He lets them both curl into his warmth on movie nights, resigning himself to tingling limbs after they fall asleep halfway through but unable to make himself move when they’re so content. Just feeling them breath, knowing they’re alive, knowing that if he was a little less lucky, a few inches in a different direction he could have never had this.

[electricaquarius]

Duchess' 4am fanfiction spree hits once again, this time written at 3am. This one is the tiefling party, Joanna rejects Astarion and has a gossip session with Karlach, there's some Gale shipping, it's a fun time. There's scandalous content like kissing and hand holding! Fic is below the cut.

‘Let's wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep, we'll find each other.’

A blush quickly formed on Joanna's cheeks as she processed the fact that she had very much just been propositioned, pretty much out of nowhere. It was bizarre, Astarion had given no indication that he was interested in her, in that way or otherwise. ‘Oh! Oh, um…’ A nervous giggle escaped her lips. ‘Um, no. No thank you.’ She began to play with the hair at the bottom of her braid. ‘I'm… sorry? I'm not really the type to go for, ah, casual arrangements.’

Well, shit. There went that plan. He supposed it didn't matter too much in the grand scheme of things, he'd just have to secure his position within the group in another way. He was more than a little offended though. Astarion had done this song and dance a thousand times before, was he really that out of practice? ‘Hm, well I suppose I'll respect your decision to spend your evening with inferior company. Have a good evening, my dear.’

Joanna squeaked a goodbye and nearly sprinted over to Karlach, who looked a little panicked at her sudden arrival. ‘Soldier! Where's the fire? You look like you've had a right shock.’

‘Karlach, babes, you are not going to fucking believe what just happened.’ Joanna tried to keep her voice low but was unsure how much Astarion's elven ears could pick up. ‘Let's get out of here for a sec, I wanna talk to you privately.’

‘Ooh, hot gossip? I'm game!’ Karlach led the way to the bathing pond, the only place around camp still mostly safe but definitely unoccupied. She plopped herself down on the rock and crossed her legs, like a child awaiting a story. ‘Alright, tell me what happened with Fangs. Oh, I bet he said something just awful, didn't he? He can be such an arse!’

‘Honestly if he didn't spell it out I'd have no idea what he was asking me for.’ Joanna laughed, waving her hands excitedly. ‘He - and this is the gospel truth, I swear it - He just asked me to go to bed with him!’ Another peal of laughter from them both this time. 

‘What? Nooooo!’ Karlach held her hands in front of her mouth in exaggerated shock. ‘Don't get me wrong, sweet, but I'd never figure you for his type. What did he say, exactly?’

Joanna recited the line from earlier, doing her best impression of Astarion's swagger. ‘What bothered me most is it was so presumptive! I guess he's not used to rejection, eh?’ Karlach waggled her eyebrows at her.

‘That's no surprise, now. Still-’ A rustle from the bushes had Karlach holding one finger aloft, scanning the environment for the source. A wave of relief washed over her when Gale appeared, a leaf still clinging to his hair. He brushed it out and made his way over to them. 

‘Gale! Everything alright back there?’ Joanna smiled, hoping there wasn't yet another emergency back at camp when she'd just started enjoying herself. 

‘Everything's going swimmingly. Drinks are flowing, music is playing, everyone is having a good time. I'd noticed you two were missing and thought I'd better come check, that's all.’ Gale did have an ulterior motive for seeking them out but it was innocent enough, he decided.

‘Snoop.’ Karlach snorted, taking another swing from her bottle. ‘Jo was just telling me about her encounter with our resident vampire. I know you saw it, too.’

‘Stop, you're so bad!’ Joanna waved her away, very nearly but not quite brushing her skin. Karlach moved at the last second. ‘Alright, alright, I'll tell you. But I'm making you promise that this conversation doesn't leave our little group. Trust me, it'd be embarrassing for both me and him otherwise.’ Joanna extended her pinky finger towards Gale.

‘I must admit I'm intrigued. I saw you run off quite quickly after talking with him, don't tell me he did something to offend you?’ Gale linked his finger with hers, relishing the warmth of her contact for a moment. 

‘More like she offended him! Did you know, he asked her to‐’ Joanna cut Karlach off with a chorus of shushes. 

‘Look, it's my story, I'm going to tell it! So, he's whining on about how boring this party is and how he'd like more excitement. I ask him what he's talking about, which I think is a pretty reasonable question. He tells me he's talking about sex, acting like I'm completely stupid for not getting it. But then he starts telling me we should meet up after everyone is asleep? And I'm all, ‘I didn't agree to anything!’ And he's like…’ Joanna continued on, the wine loosening her tongue and making her babble. Gale thought it was quite endearing in a way, she was usually so intelligent and thoughtful so to see her letting loose for once made him smile. She deserved it, they all deserved it, just for one night.

Joanna was gesticulating wildly, deep into an imaginary argument with Astarion, when her hand caught Karlach's shoulder. ‘Ah! Shit, I'm so clumsy!’ She pulled her hand back quickly and examined it, noticing an angry red blotch spreading across it.

‘Oh fuck, are you alright? I should've kept my distance, I…’ Karlach sprang up, immediately putting space between herself and her two friends. She hated being reminded of her engine, just when she was starting to feel normal again. 

‘No, no, it's totally my fault. Karlach, love, please don't be upset. You don't need to go.’ Still, Karlach could tell Joanna was in a lot of pain, despite everything. She very carefully came closer and looked at the burn.

‘Shit, looks nasty. Oi, wiz, can you do anything about this?’ Karlach nodded towards Gale who had also leaped up and was examining the back of Joanna's hand. He knelt down and brought his hands towards hers, pausing for a moment.

‘May I?’ Joanna nodded, and he took her hand in his. He scanned the burn, putting together his rudimentary knowledge of medicine and trying not to focus on how nice it felt to be holding hands again. He'd thought about it endlessly since Joanna had conjured the vision for them together in the weave that one night. ‘It's only a mild burn, thankfully. We just need to cool down the affected area.’

‘So… can I help? You need me to go pick some mugwort or balsam or mergrass or something?’ Karlach's tail wagged behind her in short strokes like a metronome, clearly anxious. 

‘No, I should be able to handle this with a modified Ray of Frost. Thank you, though, all the same.’ His eyes flitted back to Joanna. ‘You need to tell me if the cold becomes unbearable, okay? What this should do is cool and numb the burn to stop it from doing any further damage.’

Joanna nodded, wondering idly if it was just her feeling quite so affected by how close they were right now. Any thoughts of comforting Karlach had flown out of her mind the minute he took her hand. He rolled his thumb over her knuckles that the burn had spread across and there was an immediate cooling sensation. 

A knowing smile spread across Karlach's face. Yes, she might have hurt a dear friend but in exchange for getting closer to her wizard, the sacrifice wasn't all that great. ‘Hey, Alfira's started playing again. I should go, I promised Shadowheart a dance.’

‘Bye…’ Joanna looked over her shoulder absently, watching Karlach leave. Content that she wasn't upset about their little accident, Joanna was all too happy for her to leave. She was hypnotized watching Gale work, mumbling to himself. The burn faded every time he swiped his thumb across it until it disappeared entirely. His work done, Gale lifted his eyes to Joanna's but didn't move an inch. Yes, maybe he was being exactly as presumptive as Astarion when he leaned in for a kiss but at that moment he didn't care. Their lips met and he felt Joanna gasp lightly against him.

Time slowed at that moment. Silently, Gale begged for her to reciprocate, to not push him away. When her hand came up to run through his hair he felt like he could finally breathe again. It was ridiculous, juvenile to be so taken with someone he hadn't known for any meaningful period of time but life since the tadpole had become so precarious that he truly didn't know if this would be his only chance. 

Joanna was the first to break away, pulling back and admiring him while she stroked his hair. ‘You look very handsome in the moonlight, you know.’ She whispered sweetly, sensing nothing but love in his eyes. 

‘I should think I look handsome in the daytime, too.’ He laughed. ‘I was hoping that I hadn't followed in the footsteps of our fanged friend, just now. I'm afraid that I find it quite difficult to control myself when I touch you. That, and I have to say, I felt the need to, well, stake my claim, somewhat. Trust me when I tell you that you're very… *popular* among our little group. I can't say I blame them, but, I suppose I'm just too selfish.’ Gale takes a deep breath, considering how to phrase what he wants to say next. He hadn't had time to rehearse and this is absolutely not how he'd typically go about winning over an object of his affections, but time is short. And the worst part was, he didn't know exactly how short. 

‘I want you.’ He continued, giving Joanna's hand a squeeze. ‘And I don't mean to imply you're some kind of trophy or a piece of meat but let me just say I'm not exactly short on competition. You might not believe that Astarion is interested in you but I've seen that look in his eyes. I know it far too well. And of course, you're not bound to me in any way just because I was ‘first’, but-’

Joanna leaned forward and kissed him once more, hoping to silence his worries. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?’ She smiled, stroking his cheek. ‘I love our friends dearly, but the way I feel about you is unique. Quite honestly, I'd like to show you exactly what I mean.’ She began to trail kisses from his mouth to his neck, working her way down to his chest when the orb began to glow brightly. 

Gale made a soft grunt of pain and gently pushed her away. ‘Believe me when I tell you I'd love to, but I cannot have too much excitement with the orb the way it is.’ He held her face between his hands. ‘I feel very, very strongly for you too but this is as far as we go tonight.’

Joanna sighed and settled against him, his arm settling at her waist. ‘Never mind. Let's just spend a moment here, together.’

[mushibashiraas]

MY DARLINGS. ✰

— haitani rindou. texting the other at 3am, bike rides, tattoo dates, hooked pinkies at the grocery store, late night trips to 7/11, bike rides, faint blushes, purple gift wrap, fixing up bloody knuckles and busted lips, coffee runs before class, bike rides, morning love-making, princess treatment, love bites, washing each other's hair, kisses kisses kisses, quality time, cuddles in his t-shirts, video game dates, random shopping trips, carrying my bags for me, bike rides, shared earbuds, swapping playlists and music mixes, bookstore dates.

— hanemiya kazutora. morning cuddles, afternoon naps, evening cuddles, nighttime cuddles, brushing our teeth together, making tora's bento before he leaves for the pet store, caring for newborn kittens, words of affirmation, braiding hair, getting matching tattoos, stealing his sweatshirts, bike rides, eventually caving and buying a cat and a dog from fuyu's pet store.

— kokonoi hajime. lots of pictures, bleps bleps bleps, getting caught working or studying late, tucking each other into bed, acts of service, doing chores together ("it's more efficient this way"), expensive, late night takeout, soft, pure kisses, snuggles, little spooning, begging and giving in to getting a cat, salon dates, a matching piercing, silver jewelry, classy christmas tree decorations, white fairy lights, coordinated, designer outfits, doing koko's eye makeup before work, removing his eye makeup before bed, doing each other's skincare routines, spa dates, soft, romantic lovemaking after a long rough day at work, book dates, long, philosophical or theological discussions, a rare crime drama binge watch.

— shiba yuzuha. makeup shopping, gossiping about our brothers, movie nights, recommending new music, late night snack runs, study dates (she's definitely crazy smart), sending each other cute cat pictures, facetiming at odd hours, quiet cuddle times indoors, hiding out after school avoiding her fanclub, nicknames ("queen" "princess" "bug" "sweetheart" "yuzu" "yuzu-chan"), soft touches, kisses kisses kisses, spending time showing each other each other's hobbies, quality time.

— nagi seishiro. quality time, naps naps naps, video game dates, rainy days spent cuddling together indoors, lazy takeout runs, muscle and weight training (i'm the weight), snack runs, leaning against each other, piggyback rides, swapping between being the big spoon and little spoon, kisses post-win, catching me trying on his jerseys, dancing on his toes, slow dancing, random biting, cocoa with tons of marshmallows and whipped cream, competitive versus matches, snowball fights, snitching cookie and cake dough, making more of a mess with the christmas lights and decorations rather than use them to decorate the tree.

— ruggie bucchi. naps well into the evening after doing leona's chores and running errands for leona, ear scritches!!, cuddles cuddles cuddles, snack runs to sam's after school, broom rides late in the night, watching his spelldrive practices, pulling pranks on ace and deuce and grim, sitting leaned up against each other watching the laundry spin round and round, falling asleep the soft hum of the washers and dryers in the background, cooking for the entire savanaclaw dorm, splitting donuts and hot chocolate during study sessions, MASSAGES, visits back home to ruggie's grandmother, 5 second rule things with ruggie, stealing each other's oversized shirts.

— ace trappola. pasta nights/making the entire heartslabyul dorm smell like basil and garlic and tomatoes, pulling pranks with deuce and grim, skipping class, cheering the loudest at ace's basketball game, receiving wet, sloppy, sweaty kisses post-win, getting picked up and spun around in a hug, petty arguments, thumb wars, spontaneous "kidnappings" on ace's broom, hopeless study sessions, study sessions turn tickle fights, pillow fights, practicing card and magic tricks late into the night, constantly needing to touch and feel each other (non-sexual), elbow on my head, pinching each other, hand-holding, swinging each other's arms, linking arms, giggling late into the night about old pranks we pulled, shopping trips into town, adopting a dog, morning kisses, "good night" kisses, cheek kisses, neck kisses, blowing raspberries, elbowing each other.

— jamil viper. productive study sessions, assisting him with kalim's and his chores, taking care of each other when we're sick, braiding his hair, acts of service, words of affirmation, well-deserved naps, big spooning, little spooning, roasting and gossiping about other students, sharing music recommendations, cooking dinner for kalim and the scarabia dorm, cuddles cuddles cuddles, love bites, heated makeout sessions, neck kisses, nose kisses, holding pinkies, subtle ways of saying "i love you," tapping each other three times to say "i love you," reading in the school library, teaching him about any customs or traditions from my world/home, trips back home to the scalding sands, introducing me to his family, stargazing, magic carpet rides, watching the al'ab naariya (sp??) fireworks, dancing in his room, telling each other to go to bed first, kisses first thing in the morning, kisses as we pass each other in the kitchen, kisses as we wake up from naps.

— xiao. visits to jueyun karst and the adepti, naps after patrol at wangshu inn, trips into liyue harbor, meeting with zhongli at third-round knockout or xinyue kiosk, lantern rites spent just the two of us, cuddles cuddles cuddles, rock and mountain climbing, late night chats with hu tao, flower crowns made from qingxin, walks with qiqi while she picks medicinal herbs for baizhu, cooking for and failing at trying to surprise him with almond tofu, patching each other up after a particularly rough commission or long, drawn-out battle, exploring domains and new nations together, quiet "i love yous," tapping each other three times to say "i love you," holding hands and soft, gentle kisses in the privacy of our shared bedroom, heated kisses, words of affirmation, stargazing, visiting pervases' shrine and offering incense.

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 14: die a hero or live long enough to become a villain

Desperate Measures

2791 Words; Ouroboros AU

TW for exploitation, bloodsport, death, blood, violence

AO3 ver

Morning came, as it always did.

Dion pushed himself up into a sitting position, drowsiness lingering in the corners of his mind still.

His muscles thrummed with the ache of a good workout. Yesterday’s bruises throbbed, his cuts stung—

Ah.

Dion grimaced as the events of the night before returned to him, rising up his throat like bile. The image of The Beetle’s corpse flashed in his mind—

Next to him, Mirtala hummed, rolling onto her side. A unicorn stuffie that someone had given her was cradled in her arms, her chin pressed against the yarn of its mane.

Dion blinked the memory away. “You’ve got more important things to worry about.” He reminded himself, brushing back some of Mirtala’s hair. He kicked off the blanket and got up.

He went through his morning routine slowly, quietly, mechanically. There was no hair grease in the provisions they had been provided, so he settled for taming his hair as best he could with the brush before tying it back and out of the way.

Dion was halfway through a simple stretching routine when Mirtala stirred, blinking blearily as she sat up.

“Morning.” Dion greeted, voice still rough from sleep.

Mirtala blinked. Looked at Dion. Squeezed the unicorn plush against her chest. “Good morning.”

Dion smiled. Looked away when she changed into day clothes, brushed his teeth while she brushed hers. Helped her brush her hair.

“Was there anything you wanted to do today, Tala?” He wove the ribbon into her hair as he spoke. Normally, braiding Mirtala’s hair would be a gossip session, a back and forth chatter about the things that fascinated her or the tricks she wanted to do. Normally, braiding Mirtala’s hair was a time to socialize and bond with his little sister.

But there wasn’t exactly a lot to talk about, here in Ouroboros. There were no mishaps during practice or funny-looking bugs or gossip about Frazie’s love life here—just day after day of survival, the routine quickly becoming rote.

Mirtala still found a way to fill the silence, though, chattering about the Wolves most often assigned to babysit her when Dion was working, about how one of them said they had a daughter “just like her” and would bring her books to read and ribbons for her hair. Dion let her ramble to her heart’s content.

(There was a lot he could talk about, when it came down to it. A lot of little things that happened while he was away.

The memory of The Beetle’s corpse flashed through his mind.

He kept his mouth shut. None of what Dion could chatter about was child-friendly.)

There weren’t a lot of children in Ouroboros, and none of them were Mirtala’s age. She already knew their names and likes and dislikes, and chattered about the games they’d made up.

“I think I’ll have some free time later today.” Dion commented, securing the left braid into its normal hoop. “Maybe you could show me some of the games those other kids play.” He started on the other braid, weaving the ribbon into Mirtala’s hair as he did.

Mirtala hummed noncommittally, squeezing the plush tighter.

Dion’s smile faltered. His shoulders tensed.

He continued to braid his sister’s hair.

+=+=+=+=+

(Creed pulled Dion aside later that day. Complimented him on his performance in the Death Pit. Implied Dion would be put in the next one. Worded the praise so that it felt like a knife in Dion’s gut, sharp and nauseating.

Dion’s skin crawled the entire time. That wasn’t anything new.)

+=+=+=+=+

The first time Dion was called to Tammy’s office, he wasn’t sure why.

He didn’t know much about the woman beyond her position as Creed’s left hand; he knew she dealt with the Wolves and the Birds, but not what she did, exactly.

Creed was a tall and broad-shouldered man. Creed dominated the very room he was in by sheer presence alone. Creed oozed power and cruelty and calculation; he seemed more than a mere man, larger than life.

In contrast, Tammy felt much more human. Where Creed demanded subservience by existing, Tammy radiated the kind of authority that came from experience, that commanded earned respect. There was nothing cruel in her eyes, no harsh glint.

“Come in.” She didn’t look up as Dion entered, instead regarding the file in her hands. “Sit.”

Dion sat down in the chair facing her desk, his back straight.

The ticking of the clock and the rustling of papers was the only sound in the room. Dion’s eyes darted around nervously, taking in all of the little details.

Creed’s office—the one Dion had seen, at least—was predominantly designed to intimidate, to emphasize Creed’s power over whichever audience he was entertaining, his chair not unlike a throne, his desk massive, the decor expensive. Creed’s office was not a place worked in regularly; it was where deals were made and audiences were intimidated and personal commands were given. It was a room designed to make everyone who wasn’t Creed feel small.

Tammy’s office was smaller, full of personal effects. The desk was littered with files and pens. Cabinets flanked the walls. This was not a place designed around entertaining guests, for all that the chair Dion was seated in was much more comfortable than the bench in Creed’s.

There was a small model of a bird on Tammy’s desk, beady eyes peeking out from a crown of fake feathers. Dion didn’t recognize it—maybe it was a heron or crane, based on the long legs? But the beak was too short.

Dion’s eyes darted to the wall behind Tammy. A mask hung on the wall, matching the model of the bird on her desk, stylized with the same green and glitter. Below it, a coat with feathered shoulders.

It reminded Dion of his arena outfit, just more personalized, more expensive.

The silence stretched on. Dion tried not to fidget.

Eventually, Tammy set down the file and looked up, sharp gray eyes meeting Dion’s blue.

“Have you been in a fight before?” Where Creed’s voice was laced with hidden meanings, Tammy’s was direct and clear. Where Creed oozed poison and power, demanding compliance, Tammy’s voice was simple, unyielding.

Dion gripped the edge of his seat. “My parents taught me some self-defense.” He stated. He didn’t say anything else, the omission a silent challenge.

Tammy didn’t ask any clarifying questions. Her eyes narrowed, regarding Dion’s words carefully.

Dion had the distinct sense that she knew more than he had said.

Tammy stood up and walked around the desk, steps brisk. “Stand up and push the chair to the side.” Her voice brokered no room for argument, for all that Dion wasn’t sure he could trust where this was going. He followed her directions, though, and within moments, Dion and Tammy were standing across from each other in the small open space of her office, the desk to his right and her left.

Tammy urged him to step forwards. Walked around him in a slow circle, before stopping to his left. “Show me how you throw a punch.”

Dion regarded her carefully. His parents’ lessons rang through his head, the memory a distant sting.

He punched out at the air.

Tammy hmmed to herself. “Well, you’re not terrible.”

It felt like a weight had lifted from Dion’s shoulders, for all that the unfamiliarity of the situation still dug anxious little claws into his gut.

“Come along.” Tammy opened the door, motioning out towards the hall. “We’ll need a bigger space if I’m going to evaluate your form.” She stalked out into the hall with purpose.

Dion followed.

+=+=+=+=+

Two weeks passed, and Dion was back in the Death Pit.

He didn’t run away from his opponent quite as much this time. Struggled back against them as best he could, Tammy’s lessons in the back of his head.

The audience was deafening, jeering. The cage bars casted shadows across the arena. The scent of sweat and blood and dirt filled the space.

He still hesitated, when the chance to dole out the final blow came. Hesitated, and nearly lost his own life as a result. But it was either him or his opponent, and Dion had Mirtala to worry about—

He didn’t hesitate nearly as much when his opponent cornered him.

+=+=+=+=+

Mirtala clutched the fabric of his shirt when he returned, pressing her face against his chest. Their new room was bigger than the last—it looked like an actual room, now, rather than a large closet.

Dion wrapped his arms around her, and blinked away the image of a body in the dirt. Swallowed down the bitter taste in his throat. Willed the sensation of blood drying on his skin to go away.

(There was no blood on him—he’d cleaned himself thoroughly when he showered.

The sticky feeling still remained.)

+=+=+=+=+

The Death Pit only occurred every other week. Dion was given plenty of work to do in between those dreadful nights; plenty of floors to clean and crates to move, plenty of physical labor to keep him occupied and keep his strength up.

Creed assigned Dion to the regular ring after a few days. It was a brawl between four different combatants, the masks seeming garish under the arena lights.

Dion walked away from that night with fresh bruises on his knuckles. Walked away from that night with new aches in his limbs. Walked away with the knowledge that he was still outclassed pounded into his bones.

(His and Mirtala’s room remained the same, the only addition being a nightlight that Dion was half convinced a Wolf had brought in.

Dion hadn’t quite lost.

He hadn’t won, either.)

+=+=+=+=+

One of the Wolves pulled Dion aside, after his second foray into the regular fighting rings. “You didn’t do too badly, kid.” They’d grunted, hand on Dion’s shoulder. “You’re definitely getting better.”

Dion had shrunk in on himself at the praise. Had swallowed down uneasiness and nodded when the Wolf patted him on the back.

(The praise was infinitely more genuine than Creed’s backhanded compliments. Some small part of Dion sang in pride at that.)

+=+=+=+=+

Weeks passed.

Dion continued to be put in the Death Pit each time it came up. He half-suspected that Creed wanted him dead—but his opponents were just as expendable as him, it felt.

When it came down to the decisive moment in his third fight, Dion almost hesitated.

Almost.

(The sticky feeling remained.)

+=+=+=+=+

“Your form is off.”

Dion groaned internally as Tammy corrected his form, her touch never lingering past what was necessary. She didn’t have much time to spare for him—half of his lessons were conducted by a Bird in her place—so she did not waste a single second.

Her no-nonsense attitude reminded Dion of his mother, sometimes. But where Donatella was a demanding taskmaster, pushing her children to do better because she so firmly believed they were better, Tammy was stiff and humorless, pushing Dion to do better because it was her job.

(Dion could sort of see why she had so much power, for all that she was different from Creed and The Owl. It was hard not to respect her, hard to see the experience and practicality etched into her and not listen when she spoke.

Creed was many things. He was not a foolish man.)

Tammy knew how to fight, knew how to hold her own in a brawl and how to disable an opponent quickly and efficiently. She knew how to fight, and she knew how to teach that knowledge.

Dion knew how to fall. He knew how to balance and flip and soar across a trapeze, how to stack in a human pyramid and how to tumble.

(Tammy had regarded these skills as “Useful, if you can figure out how to apply them.” Had told Dion that resourcefulness was power in a fight.)

Tammy knew how to fight.

Dion was still learning.

+=+=+=+=+

Dion’s hands were shaking when he returned from his fourth Death Pit. Water still clung to him from his shower. His hand was bandaged, his knees bruised.

His and Mirtala’s room had a small table in it, now, with two matching chairs. Dion glanced at them with something that might have been satisfaction, something that might have been dread.

He wrapped his arms around Mirtala, and matched his breathing to hers.

(The sticky feeling remained.)

+=+=+=+=+

Just sitting in Creed’s office was suffocating.

The bench was cold. The lighting was designed not to illuminate the room so much as to contrast the shadows at the edges of it, making the space feel even bigger than it actually was.

(Making Dion feel smaller than he actually was.)

Creed steepled his fingers on the desk, leaning back in his seat. The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive. Dark brown eyes regarded Dion cooly, silently picking him apart.

Dion tensed, his own eyes looking anywhere but at Creed. He glanced at the various serpent-themed art on the shelf to his left, flicked his gaze at the stupidly detailed and heavy grandfather clock to his right, squeezed the edge of the bench and examined the pattern on the rug—looked at anything but the man sitting across from him.

The steady tick of the clock was the only sound in the silence. It was just as oppressive as Creed’s stare, anxiety hammering Dion’s insides in time with the steady tick-tock-tick-tock.

Dion wondered if it was possible for his soul to crawl out of his skin. It certainly felt like that would happen, if he was made to sit here in silence for any longer.

The clock continued to tick.

Without preamble, Creed stood up, seeming to loom over the entire room with just that motion.

Dion’s shoulders hunched.

Creed walked around his desk, steps slow and purposeful. He circled around Dion like a shark, dread twisting Dion’s chest more and more with every step. He loomed at Dion’s right, just in front of the bench.

“You’ve been doing well, little lion.” Creed drawled, voice sticky with threat and praise. His hand landed on Dion’s shoulder, covering it entirely. “I’m pleasantly surprised at how long you’ve lasted.”

Pride and discomfort twisted Dion’s gut. His skin prickled, nausea and acid taking up residence in his throat.

His eyes stayed locked on the floor.

Creed chuckled. “There’s no need to be so modest.” He stepped closer. “You’ve got a will to live; be proud of that.” His hand never left Dion’s shoulder, a gentle weight firmly pinning him in place.

“You were raised in a circus, weren’t you?” Creed asked. “Taught by your parents how to perform for the crowds?”

Dion swallowed, every hair on the back of his neck straight up. Nodded, despite the dreadful feeling that he was walking into a trap.

“Then use it.” Creed snarled. “I get not wanting to take any chances, but the audience isn’t paying to see you win a fight in minutes.”

Dion wanted to sink into the floor. His soul was going to crawl out of his skin any second now.

“They’re here for carnage,” Creed continued, grip on Dion’s shoulder tightening. “For glory, and struggle. They’re here for a show.” He let go of Dion’s shoulder to curl his finger under Dion’s chin, forcing the teen to look up at him directly. “Surely you can understand that, right?”

Disgust sliced up Dion’s guts into thin slices. Hatred dug sticky claws into his chest. Dull panic at feeling cornered crawled lazily up and down his spine. Terror wrapped cold tendrils around his neck, keeping the need to fight at bay.

A neck that was starting to ache at the way Creed was forcing it to crane.

Creed regarded Dion carefully, disdainfully. Dion wanted to scream.

“Yeah.” Dion said instead, voice sounding a lot steadier than he felt. “I understand.”

Creed removed his hand, letting Dion’s face fall back to the floor. “Good boy.” He rumbled, Dion’s insides twisting at the sound. He patted him on the back, once, twice, the action making Dion’s skin prickle violently.

Slow, deliberate steps took Creed back to his seat. The old leather creaked as he settled down on it.

Dion kept staring at the floor.

A drawer was pulled open. Papers rustled.

“Dismissed.” Creed grabbed a pen.

Dion wasted no time in leaving the room.

+=+=+=+=+

The audience was roaring, cheering, voices merging into a single wordless cry for blood.

The cage bars casted shadows across both Dion and his opponent. Dion’s mask weighed against his face; light enough to ignore, heavy enough to be familiar.

When the opportunity came, Dion didn’t hesitate.

It would be kinder to kill his opponent in one blow. Kinder to make it quick.

But the audience wasn’t here for quick.

Dion won.

(Dion would learn to live with that sticky feeling.)

[hualianff]

Untethered (Bonus II) 《Bonus I》

For the first time in his life, XL feels like he can speak without the pressures and expectations of being a prince weighing down on his shoulders. He watches his facial expressions in the mirror as he rambles about the various meetings he had for the day. The subtle dancing of his eyebrows, rapid blinking of his eyes, and pinched corners of his lips—all indicative of how animated he is when summarizing his duties that seemed more like work than anything else.

The fact that HC is here, brushing his hair, and listening with occasional intrigued hums make XL reinvigorated as his role as prince. Despite the demanding energy, control, and fairness the role takes, XL is incredibly grateful for the privilege and promises himself to continue to fulfill this purpose to the best of his abilities.

So far, XL believes he’s done a sufficient job, preparing to ascend to the throne. After hearing him speak, he secretly hopes HC thinks so too.

“Ah, San Lang, thank you for kindly tending to my hair. It looks wonderful,” XL says once he feels the final knots come undone by HC’s broad strokes.

“Of course it looks wonderful. It is His Highness, after all,” the pirate captain comments smoothly. XL can’t help but smile at the compliment.

HC goes to place the comb back on the vanity. He switches it out for a short ribbon that shimmers silver when hit by the moonlight.

“Allow me to do one more thing,” HC adds. He gathers all of XL’s hair to fall behind his shoulders, the strands still a bit damp. With practiced movements, HC parts the prince’s hair into three sections, then begins braiding the pieces into a thick, tight section.

XL licks his lips in anticipation. Though he’s had his hair styled a thousand times before, this is HC who currently braids his long locks, a gesture that seems a bit intimate.

Not that you mind, XL briefly thinks.

“How have the last few weeks treated San Lang?” He asks, reminding HC of his promise to talk about his days on the ocean. HC pulls the pieces of hair tighter, focused on creating a simple yet consistent and neat braided pattern for the prince.

“Troublesome. There’s a new pirate ship we have encountered several times. They said they want to challenge us for our water territories, which is a load of shit because the sea belongs to no one,” HC spits out heatedly. His tone is harsh but his touch is gentle as ever. “I honestly think the captain wants to mess with me. Make me question my reign as the ‘most feared, ruthless, and violent pirate to sail the waters.’”

“Oh. I see,” XL says hesitantly. He’s not very familiar with the inside knowledge of pirate ways and society other than what is generalized by the public. And the palace’s gossip, of course.

Suddenly, a rush of hot air tickles XL’s ear. XL locks eyes with HC through the mirror, heart stuttering at the dark, hungry look in the pirate’s eye.

“What does His Highness think?”

“Think about what?”

“My reputation. Does the real thing live up to your imagination?” HC questions with a sly smirk, quickly tying the ribbon at the end of the braid, then moving it to fall over XL’s right shoulder. XL only has a few seconds to marvel at the stunning handiwork before HC leans forward even more, urging XL to turn toward him, their faces mere centimeters apart.

The pirate captain smells like manly musk mixed in with the ocean breeze. XL nervously gulps.

“I- um,” XL starts, feeling his face heat up. “Hmm, maybe not entirely...”

HC’s eye slowly flits down XL’s face. XL remains still, mentally kicking himself for wondering what it would feel like to close the small gap and-

“Fair enough,” HC remarks, pulling away, leaving a rush of air in his wake. “I suppose I’m not the madman people say I am. After all, His Highness wouldn’t have let me into his room otherwise, no?”

Something hot burns inside XL’s gut. He had to let HC in! If the pirate were discovered by the palace guards, he’d be imprisoned indefinitely for sure! XL was simply doing an act of service for HC...nothing too outrageous like HC implied.

Nope, none at all.

“You’re blushing.“

“San Lang better take a good look around lest this is the only time I invite him into my room,” XL huffs out, resolutely facing forward and avoiding HC’s penetrating gaze.

“Forgive me, Your Highness. I was simply teasing,” HC says, though he doesn’t sound all that apologetic. “A prince like you must have many admirers to choose from. I shall not take this privilege for granted.”

“Admirers? Where on Earth did you get that from?” XL asks, appalled. He hasn’t taken interest in any of the brides his father provided, much less traveled to other kingdoms in a serious pursuit to find one to marry.

“Is there not a ball happening this coming week? For you to choose a suitable woman to become your queen?” HC inquiries nonchalantly. He tucks a rogue curl behind XL’s ear, the prince subtly leaning into the touch.

XL whips around in astonishment, braid flying to his other shoulder.

“How did you know!?”

“I have ears on land, my prince. Even when I’m out sailing the sea,” HC says. “We have also passed numerous royal ships carrying your guests for the celebration.”

XL wilts in his seat.

It’s not much of a celebration if XL hadn’t wanted to host an engagement ball in the first place. Years of his father’s insistent pushing have led to more frequent gatherings with other royalty in hopes that XL finds a fiancé.

Unlike his parents, XL wasn’t betrothed from a young age. Furthermore, he hasn’t expressed  any interest in marriage even once becoming an adult.

(“Your mother and I were married at twenty. You, my son, are already twenty-two,” the king always said. “You should quickly find a princess who catches your eye. The sooner you get yourself a wife, the sooner she will start learning her duties as queen.”)

XL has successfully put off marriage for a couple of years, deferring to his rigorous training schedule and duties as prince as an excuse. Fortunately, his mother is willing to let XL take his time, as the king isn’t set to retire anytime soon. After all, XL learning his responsibilities as king is the most important task.

HC instantly notices XL’s deflated expression. He attempts to backpedal.

“I had no right to bring that up. If this is something Gege does not want to discuss, then, by all means, he may change the subject,” HC says quietly. Respectfully.

“No. It is fine. It is by no means a secret at all. The ball has been scheduled for weeks now,” XL murmurs while looking at his bare feet. He fiddles with the long braid, smoothing over the tightly wrapped strands absent-mindedly. “I’m not actively looking for a wife or anything. At least, I don’t want to...”

“Your Highness-“

“San Lang.”

HC’s mouth snaps shut. He straightens his back with his shoulders set square, standing at attention in front of the Prince of Xianle.

“Could you do something for me? A small favor, if you will.”

“Anything,” HC immediately answers.

XL subconsciously chews on his lower lip, a habit that his closest friend SQX reprimands him for doing because it tears up both the old and healing skin. Easy to overdo, not a quick fix, SQX claims.

XL rises to his feet. He holds his hand out to the pirate, palm facing upwards.

Where’s My Love – SYML

“Will you dance with me?”

“I’m afraid gege will be sorely disappointed with this one’s lack of skill,” HC says as a matter-of-fact, but he doesn’t hesitate to accept XL’s hand, his long fingers blanketing XL’s own.

The prince’s heart skips a beat as the pirate pulls him close until their chests almost touch. XL feels small; HC’s heeled boots to XL’s bare feet exaggerate their height difference, XL only coming up to HC’s chest.

XL feels small but strangely, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“San Lang needs only to follow my lead,” XL says, looking up with a smile. He properly intertwines their left and right hands, then places HC’s other hand on his shoulder. Finally, XL goes to hold the pirate’s waist, the thin fabric giving way to the hard muscle underneath.

“Gege must have danced with a lot of pretty women before,” HC muses, moving his feet as XL slowly guides him into a waltz. XL hopes it isn’t just him imagining a slow, romantic piece to harmonize their movements.

“Is San Lang jealous?” XL asks without thinking.

Goodness, did those words seriously just come out of his mouth? Other than his eyes widening in slight horror, XL schools his face into a calm expression, not wanting to seem conceited or even desperate.

HC peers down with a lazy smirk, almost crowding into the prince as they turn to dance in a circle. Despite XL’s effort to appear unfazed by the prospect of HC envying those who’ve had the opportunity to dance with the Prince of Xianle, the pirate still catches the hopeful flicker of XL’s eyelashes.

“A little bit. Though in a way, I’ve had my fair share of dances with Gege myself,” HC states proudly, referring back to their previous sparring sessions. The break in focus has HC stumbling over his feet, prompting XL to squeeze his waist as a reprimand to concentrate.

“Ah, yes. San Lang’s skill is undeniable in that aspect,” XL says, laughing. “He’s also the first and only man I’ve danced ever with.”

“What an honor,” HC purrs out, and then he lowers XL into an abrupt dip, holding the prince by his hip and upper back.

XL’s breath hitches, wondering how they seamlessly switched positions. HC tenderly stares down at the prince, a twinkle dimly reflecting in his left eye.

“San Lang...” XL whispers, clutching onto HC’s shoulders. His long braid feels heavy like rope where it hangs down, nearly touching the ground.

“Your Highness.”

Their faces are millimeters apart, skimming each other’s noses. They’ve never been this close before, especially not in the absence of any sort of weapon. No one besides the king and queen, palace servants, and bodyguards are even allowed to touch the prince.

Now here he is, in the arms of the infamous Crimson Rain, on the verge of letting himself want.

Tentatively, XL licks his lips before asking, “Why do you always come back?”

“Gege knows this answer too,” HC solemnly says.

XL tilts his chin up, eyelids starting to lower.

“I come back for you, my dear Prince.”

As HC leans down—still supporting XL’s weight—XL meets him halfway for their first proper kiss, alone together in the prince’s room where the pale moonlight spills through the balcony doors. It’s a light and airy peck, one that ends way too soon for XL’s liking.

When they pull apart, HC stands XL back up. The pirate notices XL’s robe has slid off one shoulder. He goes to pull it back up but XL quickly grasps his jaw for another kiss instead.

They part again.

“Just...one more-“ XL breathes out, adrenaline coursing through his veins. HC’s lips are warm and firm, easily pliable as they press deliciously against XL’s own. “...one more.”

HC gladly obliges.

Their kisses gradually pick up in pace, HC’s hands respectively exploring the span of XL’s back, his hips, and sides. XL eagerly pulls HC over to the edge of his bed, spinning them around so he can climb onto the pirate’s lap.

HC groans low in his throat, comfortably looping his arms around XL’s waist.

At this point, all of XL’s reservations have been cast aside and he’s going to act on the desires concerning a certain pirate that have been taunting him for months now, damn it.

XL surges forward with a force that knocks HC back against the soft mattress.

“Your Highness,” HC growls between kisses, still trying to cover up XL’s shoulder, and now his chest where the robe is loose enough to reveal noticeable cleavage. XL shifts a bit to align their hips, unintentionally rubbing against HC. “Shit-“

“Hua Cheng-“ XL hums, belatedly realizing his slip up. HC nips at his lip for his mistake.

“San L-lang,” XL mewls like the starved for affection prince that he is. HC’s tongue darts out to swipe across XL’s upper lip. Then, his lower lip.

XL naturally opens up for him, gasping as HC’s hot tongue licks inside his mouth with a dominance that consumes XL. The more XL lets his lust cloud his movement, the faster he feels himself harden.

When XL’s hands brush along HC’s hair, they accidentally graze onto his eyepatch. HC grunts in surprise, which has XL springing back as the situation of the last five minutes dawns upon him.

He sits up on HC’s thighs, placing his palms on the pirate’s chest. Underneath him, HC is a gorgeous vision–thick, wavy hair splayed out on XL’s pillow, lips swollen and spit-slicked.

“Oh my- oh my lord,” XL chokes out, completely breathless. “Was- was that t-too much?”

“Not at all, Your Highness,” HC replies with a rogue-ish smirk. “Come here.”

HC embraces his prince with long arms, squeezing tightly and pressing a series of kisses to the top of XL’s head. XL hesitantly rests his cheek on HC’s sternum, aware of how close their bodies are pressed together.

“Who knew Gege could kiss like that?”

“Like what?” XL questions petulantly.

“Like a shameless minx,” the pirate captain answers, chuckling when XL whines at the implication.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” XL shyly admits.

“Me too,” HC murmurs. XL lifts his head, crosses his arms on HC’s chest, then sets his chin on them. “Since the moment I saw you sitting alone at the pub.”

“You wanted to kiss the crown prince at first sight?” XL asks, pretending to be scandalized. HC kisses the tip of XL’s nose. XL scrunches it up in response.

“Hmm, my prince now.”

“Well, your prince would very much like it if San Lang stays the night.”

“I must be back at the harbor before dawn,” HC says, stroking XL’s hair. “However, I can most certainly afford to accompany Gege while he sleeps.”

XL happily snuggles close to HC, not worrying quite so much about the ball now that he has something going on with HC. To his astonishment, the pirate seems to return his affections quite enthusiastically. As a prince with the duty to serve his people, XL reckons he deserves this moment of happiness.

After another hour of blissful exchanging kisses and aimless conversation, XL feels himself begin to drift. He hears a whispered promise from HC who protectively curls around him.

“I will never bring you harm, Your Highness. Your heart is safe with me.”

XL falls asleep into a dreamless slumber.

***

Present...

As if it happens in slow motion, XL swings the sword with all the power he possesses. HC’s arms stretch open in vulnerability, lips forming into a small, understanding smile.

“Gege.”

Something inside XL shatters. The familiar term of endearment is for XL’s ears only. His heart pounds against his rib cage with the ferocity of an imprisoned soul, screaming at XL to ask not what he would wish for in death, but what is he willing to live for?

The answer is right in front of him.

“I’m back.”

Three things happen at once.

A deafening BOOM fires at the royal ship from the opposite direction, pitch-black flags with the symbolic skeleton of a fish piercing through the chilly air.

Simultaneously, a blinding flash of lightning strikes across the sky, signaling an even more intense downpour of rain that obscures everyone’s vision. Surprised screams echo somewhat mutely among the roaring winds.

Lastly, XL swings his sword so it barely skims the open blouse HC wears and keeps rotating until it crosses behind him, where he lets it go flying back to the royal ship.

At that moment, XL leaps forward into HC’s embrace, where those long arms encircle his waist, and both men are sent tumbling down into the crashing waves of the raging ocean.

《VI》

[deiliamedlini]

Unmasked

This is for the ball/masquerade zelink prompt by @zelink-prompts !

Summary: When Princess Zelda’s older sister is betrothed to the Prince of Faron, Zelda sets out for information about the mystery man, only to find herself in a whirlwind romance with the handsome stranger she just keeps meeting. 

Expand at your own risk. The Word Count for this is 13,563. Or read at Ao3/FFN where it’s arguably easier to read

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Kingdom of Hyrule was at peace.

That in and of itself was a rare thing. So, when King Rhoam Hyrule decreed that his daughter be married to a Prince of Faron, the kingdom was surprised. Such arranged marriages were often only performed during times of war and necessity. But Hyrule was a flourishing kingdom with little need for anything. Faron was smaller, but it was by no means poor or needing of Hyrule’s aid.

Thus, the speculation began.

Was Hyrule secretly in need? Was there an upcoming war? Was something wrong with the Princess herself?

That’s how Princess Zelda found herself sitting in the gardens with her sister, hands clasped as they awaited the arrival of the Faronian Prince and his mother who acted as his escort.

“Why is Father doing this?” Zelda asked, her grip on her sister tightening, afraid. “I don’t want you to go.”

And though the Prince would be arriving at any time within a few days, the wedding was still a long time away, and he and his mother were to be guests until then so they could learn about each other through a lengthy engagement. There were matters to be decided, such as whether the Prince and Princess would live in Faron or Hyrule, whose surname they’d each take, or if they’d change them at all.

Rae, Zelda’s older sister, pulled Zelda’s hand closer, bent over her entire arm, heaving with nerves, clutching to her sister like a lifeline. “I don’t know. This is all so sudden! I’m not even sure I’m ready! What if he’s cruel? What if, and pardon the Goddess for this thought, but what if he’s hideous?”

Princess Rae Hyrule, the oldest daughter of King Rhoam, had been inseparable from her younger sister since the day Zelda had been born. Though there were a few years difference between them, and Rae was nearing her mid-twenties while Zelda had just entered them, they spent most of their days together, hooked by the arm, laughing, crying, singing, reading, gossiping, or otherwise causing some level of mischief together.

Many affectionately called them the Twin Princesses. Not only were they close, but they looked very similar. Both had golden hair, though Zelda had let hers grow down her back and favored a practical braid each day if not tying it up and out of her face completely, Rae had cut her hair neatly above her shoulders. There was some discrepancy in their face shape, and Zelda boasted the most verdant green eyes while Rae had brilliant hazel eyes. But besides that, they were nearly twins.

When a feature didn’t match, it was mirrored. Rae often complained of new worry lines that had recently begun to crease on her forehead permanently, but she often teased Zelda for the deep creases that appeared just between her sister’s eyebrows anytime she made a disgruntled face. Zelda was taller, but Rae was more graceful when they walked. Rae was more politically minded, a genius of sorts whenever she sat in on council sessions, while Zelda was a born researcher, more apt with books and theory and logic than the manipulations of court intrigue..

Zelda patted her sister’s arm and wriggled herself free. “I’ll go see what I can find in town. You’re going to be watched far more than me until they arrive.”

“Don’t remind me,” Rae laughed, but it was forced and merely for her sister’s benefit. She stood up and brushed herself off.

Rae led Zelda back into the large palace, heading up the many grand staircases until they reached their rooms, both turning left down the hall to Zelda’s rather than right, to Rae’s room.

Rae flopped onto Zelda’s bed while Zelda rummaged through the closet, grabbing a dress that she’d hidden underneath the skirts of another that she never used. She pulled both off the hanger and replaced her decoy in the closet, changing as hastily as she could.

Zelda was no stranger to escaping the castle unnoticed. In fact, she did it so often that she had a hidden stash of items hidden in a hollowed-out tree just outside of town that she used for observational field studies. Rae had accompanied her once or twice, but it was often too difficult for her to escape the notice of guards for too long. But Zelda, the second child, was under far less scrutiny and managed much easier.

She donned a hooded cloak and her worn travelling boots. She undid her neatly braided hair, done perfectly by her lady’s maids, and redid the braid herself so it wasn’t nearly as pristine.

Both headed to one of the secret emergency exits that led from the castle and out into Hyrule Field. Rae gave her sister a kiss on the cheek before closing the door, off on a mission of her own to see what her favorite servants knew of this Faronian Prince.

Zelda, on the other hand, spent a long walk through the dark tunnel ruminating about the loss of her sister. They’d always been together, they spent most of their time together… what would she do without her?

Zelda crossed Hyrule Field wishing that there was something she could do to keep her sister with her. And she ended up lost in her thoughts as she walked along the path through a deeply wooded area that she’d been through many times before.

So, when she felt something hard crash into her, knocking her to the ground, she let out a surprised scream. Her mouth was covered by a hand, her scream muffled almost immediately as they both fell to the ground, rolling into the brush on the side of the road.

Zelda struggled to free herself, trying to scream and to break from the tight arms that held her down. She was a Princess of Hyrule, and she would not be mugged by a common thief in the woods outside of town! Her legs kicked, and the stranger threw his own leg over hers to stop her squirming.

But Zelda fell helplessly still when she saw that the man who’d crashed into her wasn’t the biggest threat.

Several large moblins thudded onto the path, banging their heavy clubs against the dirt. They each let out an enraged and frustrated scream, an inhuman noise that Zelda and Rae had attempted to imitate all their lives for fun, yet never came close to even a fragment of the actual terror they produced.

The man let go of her mouth, trusting that she knew not to scream now, and leaned over her to see through the thicket. His breath was rapid in her ear. She was sure he could feel her shaking. Never had she been this close to a moblin, let alone several.

The moblins turned towards them, and Zelda subconsciously cowed back into the man. He put a hand reassuringly on her arm, using the moment to get more of himself over her, like he was ready to jump out if he needed to.

After an endless moment of searching the area, the moblins grew bored as they realized that they’d lost their prey. Their weapons dragged in the dirt, leaving a thin line trailing behind.

One more moment to be sure, and the man let go of Zelda.

As soon as she was able, Zelda scrambled to her feet, brushing off her dress and checking her knee, revealing a scrape there and one on her palm.

The man followed her. “I’m so sorry, Miss. I didn’t realize someone else was on the path.”

Zelda looked up at him. He was stunning. His blue eyes pierced through the bright daylight, and his blonde hair reflected the sun. He was neatly dressed, if a bit disheveled from their tumble. And his accent… Zelda hated to admit that she swooned at the sound of his voice. Her first impression of him, the one where he’d collided with her, had been replaced by this true first impression: an apology, saving her, and his extremely good looks.

She cursed herself for thinking such shallow thoughts, but this was out of a storybook: a handsome man crashed into her so they could hide from moblins.

“That’s alright,” Zelda said, checking herself again. “I’d rather be knocked into a bush than killed by moblins.”

“Are you hurt?” he asked, noticing her hand. There was a friction burn, red and irritated, though there was no cut skin.

“No, I’m alright. You?” She looked him over more thoroughly. He had a small knife on his belt, but that was all she could see for weapons. His hand was scuffed as well, but he looked otherwise unharmed.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“What made them chase you?” Zelda asked, looking down the path.

“Got in their way. I almost forgot how territorial they are. Won’t be making that mistake again,” he chuckled. He brushed himself off and glanced at his palm before extending his hand. “I’m Link.”

Zelda grinned as he spoke. “You’re Faronian, right?”

He chuckled. “What gave me away: the overused name or the accent?”

“Both, I’m afraid.” Nearly every boy in Faron was named Link out of respect for the roots of the Hero. “I’m Z—” she froze. He might be Faronian, but she looked like the princess, she sounded like she was raised on a formal education, and she was named Zelda. He might put it all together. “I’m—Sh—Hil—uh—Tetra. Sorry, I’m stuttering. I’m Tetra.”

“Tetra? Good to meet you.” He looked her over once and then stared at the tree line. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember if I apologized or if I simply asked if you were okay. But I’m sorry for crashing into you.”

“No, you apologized.”

“Right, good.” He scratched his nose and nodded. “I’m heading into town, so…”

“Oh, so am I.”

His brows perked up. “Are you? Would you like an escort? We’re headed that way, and it might be strange to just silently walk in the same direction and pretend not to notice the other.”

Zelda giggled. He was red, and clearly nervous. “Yes, that would be great. Thank you.” She started to walk and soon, they both fell into step beside each other.

“Any… exciting business in town?” Link asked awkwardly.

Zelda shook her head. “I’m just going to see what gossip I can catch up on. Your Prince is meant to be coming here soon, so I was curious if anyone knew more.”

“I do. Ask away.”

“Really?” Zelda asked, a smile creeping over her face.

“Of course.”

“Great!” Zelda cleared her throat and attempted to compose herself. “Sorry, I mean thank you. Do you know when he’s going to be here?”

“Tomorrow. He left several days ago and should be in time for the ball. His caravan with the Queen is less than a day outside the city, but they’re stopped. Looks like they’re just waiting out the night.”

“What does he even look like?”

“Like most Faronians, I suppose. Blonde, blue eyes. A swordsman in his spare time. A bit quiet, though. And short.”

Zelda turned suspiciously to him. “Short? Height-wise?”

“Yes. Though, rumor has it, he’s terribly self-conscious about it.”

“That’s what the public eye will get you: self- conscious thoughts, and doubts about everything.”

Link scoffed. “You speak as if you know.”

Zelda bit her lip and held out her arms. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? That someone always being stared at and judged will feel that internally.”

He hummed, content with that answer. “That’s true.”

They walked down the long path to town. “How exactly did you attract that many moblins?” she asked after a long stretch of silence.

“They recognize one of their own,” he chuckled.

Zelda shot him a bemused look.

“Like I said, they’re territorial… I just forgot where their territory was. Crossed into it and the rest is history.”

“You’re fortunate,” she said, looking him over. Besides the scrapes from their tumble, he looked entirely unharmed. “Moblins are also very aggressive.”

“They are. We don’t have quite as many of them in Faron, so I nearly forgot.”

“I’ve been seeing quite a few people from Faron coming into Hyrule lately,” Zelda noted. “Your Prince among them.”

“And Queen.”

“Not the King?”

“No. He hasn’t been in travelling condition for a while, so he’s handling things back home.”

The walk passed quickly with them both deep in conversation with the other. It was trivial chatter, but engaging and interesting none the less. Zelda realized that she liked this stranger and wasn’t eager to be parted from him just yet.

So, when they arrived in town, she hastily offered to show him around. He accepted, and she led him through the streets that she’d familiarized herself with, keeping her hooded cloak up and her head down, though she hadn’t been in public as Princess for some time.

They ate together at her favorite hole-in-the-wall location, The Lumpy Pumpkin, and Zelda learned that Link had the appetite of a starving man. He barely chewed his food, swallowing pieces nearly whole at times.

He still had table manners, which surprised her for someone eating so aggressively as Link did. She imagined his parents must have drilled it into his brain as a child for the to stick so subconsciously.

He’d apologized, but Zelda found it almost endearing.

They’d stayed at the table long after the food had gone, just so they could speak a little longer. He told her of home, and she gushed about Hyrule. He listened while she griped about the pressures her father was putting on her and her sister, while he understood every bit of it, feeling the same from his mother.

She’d gladly paid for both their meals—especially because he’d brought the wrong amount of Faronian rupees, forgetting the conversion rate. And when she sat at the table with him, both ready to part and go their separate ways, he hesitated.

“Would you… are you doing anything… specific?”

Zelda grinned. “No, I’m not. Are you?”

A bashful look spread over his face. “I… don’t have any plans. I was just… I was coming into town and… and I didn’t…” he cleared his throat and shook his head, starting over. “Would you like to join me?”

---

“And then he said, ‘Zelda, I’m in love with you.’”

“That’s not what happened!” Rae shouted, slamming her palm on the mattress.

Zelda giggled and pulled the blanket up higher to engulf her in a cocoon.

“This isn’t fair!” Rae pouted. “You got a fairytale day, and I get some prince that I now know a whole four things about.”

And it was true; Zelda and Link had spent the whole day together.

They’d gone to several stalls, and Zelda had pointed out landmarks that he seemed unfamiliar with. He’d told her of Faron, and she’d described other areas of Hyrule to him.

At one point, they’d both found their hands interlocked, though neither knew who’d initiated it. Still, she felt indulgent, and rather than pulling away, she kept hold of him.

And when it came time to separate, the moon was already high. He offered to walk her back home, but she’d declined, needing to keep that much a secret. Besides, she was right near the cave that led to the passage back home.

It was with huge regret that she’d let go of his hand.

“Are you going to see him again?” Rae asked eagerly.

“I don’t think so. He had to head back, and I obviously have the ball today, so I couldn’t ask to meet him.”

“You should have just asked him to the ball.”

“He thinks I’m Tetra, remember?”

“Well, Tetra,” Rae teased with a sigh, “We have to get ready, unfortunately.”

Zelda pushed the thoughts of the stranger from her mind. “Today, for just a few hours, we can hide behind our anonymity. Be happy.”

“You literally went into town, crashed into an attractive stranger, and didn’t have to wear a suffocating mask for no one to recognize you. You get two days.”

Zelda stuck out her tongue and slid out from the blankets, returning to her room to get dressed.

Laid out for Zelda was a long blue ballgown, intricate with the patterning, but otherwise not indicative of her royal status. A masquerade was meant to be a guessing game, after all. Her dress showed little besides her family’s wealth, which anyone attending the celebrations tonight most likely displayed anyway.

Her mask was a full-faced porcelain abstract representation of the pale moon. There were golden designs all along it, etched into the mask itself, and forming a halo over the top. Personally, she thought it looked a little too much like the sun. She’d had hers altered so the mask was cut off by the time it reached her mouth, allowing her the ability to breathe and eat unobstructed.

She was only wearing this mask because Rae was going to wear the blood moon mask, one very similar to her own but fashioned in red like her dress, and since they were sisters, they agreed that they had to match.

Zelda’s hair was loose and in deliberate waves, which she figured would be good because of how rarely she kept her normally pin straight hair down at public events.

The ball was later in the evening. Rae and Zelda stayed together in one of the castle’s libraries, their identities known only by a few of the servants who helped them get ready. They were to be fashionably late to the party, that way no one would be able to assume that the hosts were among the first guests.

“You may enter now,” one of the ladies said, peeking her head into the library.

Rae pulled Zelda by the hand and linked their arms tightly together. “If you find someone who may be the Prince, you’ll have to let me know!”

“And if you find someone who can take my mind off Link, you let me know.”

Rae grinned and pulled her mask down. “My baby sister’s growing up.”

“Shut up.”

They could hear the music and the echo of chatter long before they reached the grand ballroom. They were led in through a casual door on the side, meant to avoid any grand entrance.

And so, they melded seamlessly into the crowd, still clutching the others’ arm to navigate without being separated. They were knocked into several times, which—while annoying—was almost refreshing. They were so used to the space that was given to them for their titles.

Zelda giggled as she took in all the incredible colors, bright and vibrant and intense. There were masks on every face, including those serving the food and drinks and entertainment. While the ballroom floor was packed and occupied, there were dancers off in the corners, there were performers in far more eccentric clothes standing in designated areas doing tricks.

Brushing past a woman in a white dress, Zelda pulled Rae to slow her down to avoid spilling the woman’s wine. She looked up and giggled harder. This was Lady Impa. Her mask went around her eyes, but hid no other part of her face. Zelda wondered how that was meant to accomplish any level of anonymity. But knowing Lady Impa, she probably wanted to be recognized, hence her choice.

Rae let go of Zelda once they were in the center of the room watching dancers spin with elegant grace. Dresses swished with the movement, almost giving off an ethereal quality to their motions as fabric seemingly moved without prompting.

The men were just as intriguing as the women, however. Lavish and outrageous colors were expected, so the typical boring, dull colors she was used to during a normal event were nowhere to be found.

Ducking, Zelda let go of Rae to avoid a rather large mask that stuck straight out like the snout of a Moblin. They giggled together before moving away.

Then, a man was in front of them, stepping backwards. And they walked straight into him.

“Oh! Forgive me!” Rae said, pushing Zelda back a bit as she grabbed the man’s arm apologetically before letting go.

He bowed his head. It had Zelda’s heart spike that they’d already been recognized, but quickly remembered that was just a typical greeting. “No, forgive me,” he said in a Hylian accent. Not the prince. “I just moved into the middle of this walkway. The fault is mine.”

Rae shook her head and went to reach for Zelda again when the man took a step forward.

“Would you be interested in an apology dance?”

Her hand froze in the air between her and Zelda. “Uh…” She glanced behind her and Zelda smiled, stepping back to give Rae some space. “Yes, a mutual apology then.”

The man held his hand out for Rae, and she took it as they walked onto the dancefloor.

Rae shot Zelda an excited smile before disappearing into the crowd of bodies.

And that’s where she stayed for three songs.

Zelda stayed on the edge of the floor, watching Rae twirl with unbridled grace as, dance after dance, a new partner replaced the last.

She felt a twinge of jealousy and embarrassment, as no one was asking her. She was so clearly alone and watching the dances. And a hit to her self-confidence had her wondering if the only reason people were ever interested in striking up a conversation with her was because she was a Princess of Hyrule.

It was that realization that had Zelda needing air.

She doubled away from the dance floor, pushing her way through the crowd. She needed privacy for a moment. She needed this stupid mask off just so she could breathe, but the ballroom was so crowded. There was no space. There was no room. There was no air.

She picked up the pace once she was out of the congested area, nearing a jog just to get away from this room of strangers.

And crashed directly into a man.

She heard him grunt, but that was all she could process before they both tumbled to the ground. She was on top of him, and a new level of embarrassment flooded her as she crawled off him, helped by a servant who’d seen the whole thing. He pulled the man to his feet as well before a wave of panicked hysteria burst from Zelda’s lips.

“I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to… are you hurt? I wasn’t paying any attention, Goddess, that’s… I’m sorry! It was so crowded in there and I need to get out and then I get over here where there’s one person, and I run into you like a stampeding herd of animals. I’m so sorr—”

“Tetra?”

Zelda froze, stopping mid-sentence. There was only one person she’d used that name with.

She was finally able to take him in: he was wearing a green and gold ensemble, an expensive one. It almost looked like it was decidedly more embellished and expensive than hers. And his mask was a green dragon, Farosh. It jutted out over his face a bit for the dragon’s nose, and it fell into a point in the back, like a tail or a pointy hat.

“Link?”

He smiled, his mouth, part of his nose, and his eyes visible under his mask. “Yes.”

Zelda gasped and took a step back. “I… why are you here?”

“Why are you?”

Zelda stuttered and pointed dumbly to the ballroom, lost for words. The stranger from yesterday. Of all the thousands of people in that room, that great, packed room with several balconies just as crowded… of all those people, she ran into the one man she’d met yesterday, and the one man she’d tried all night to forget.

Because who’d ever expect to find the perfect stranger again in this lifetime?

Not Zelda. Not here. Not on the one day everyone’s face was hidden.

“I’m… I’m at the ball.”

He chuckled and pulled her off to the side, out of someone’s way as they walked through to another room. “Yes, so am I.”

“Right, but why?”

“Do you think it’s a bad thing that I’m here?”

“No!” she said too hastily. “I mean, it’s unexpected, but certainly not bad.”

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he admitted, adjusting his mask. “I’m glad the gods proved me wrong, tonight of all nights.”

“What’s special about tonight?”

She swore she could see him raise an eyebrow in amusement. “Well, a ball, for one. But really, it’s more than that. Now that I’m here in Hyrule, my life is going to change, and this is my last great goodbye to my old life, I suppose.”

“Why is your life changing?”

“Well, the very act of moving here, for one,” he said simply. But he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, you were rushing off somewhere. Am I keeping you?”

“No! Not at all. I needed to get out of that crowd for a moment. I was… well, no. It’s so stupid, now that I think about it.”

“What?”

“I was just… people were dancing with my sister, and I wasn’t… I just… I don’t know. I suppose I’m used to people asking me to dance, and I sort of spiraled. These events are so easy to be consumed by.”

“Do you come here often?” he said with a crooked grin.

Zelda rolled her eyes. “Yes, actually. I… work here.” Not a lie. Princess of Hyrule was her job.

He hummed and cleared his throat. “You do?”

If Zelda didn’t know better, she’d say his voice cracked with nerves. “Yes.”

A vein in his neck bulged and he swallowed hard, quick to change the subject. “Why didn’t you just ask someone beside you to dance? I’m sure there was a partner who’d have obliged you.”

She turned to him and shook her head. “I’ve never asked someone. It’s just not something I’ve had to do.” She groaned. “That sounds so shallow of me.”

“Well, it’s the curse of frequenting a ballroom. People ask people they find attractive to dance.” His smile turned mischievous. “And while we’re on that subject, are you still eager to get away from the crowd, or would you honor me with a dance?”

Zelda was grateful for the mask covering her face, though she could feel everything heating up, and knew her neck had to be turning red if her cheeks were this flushed. “I would like that. But only if you tell me what you’re doing here as well. I told you why I’m here.”

Link offered her his arm. “Fair deal.”

She took it and they made their way back into the crowd. It was much too loud to have a normal conversation, so Zelda simply clung to Link’s arm as they pushed through the packed room, being jostled and elbowed, but their arms kept them from being separated in such a large area.

The previous song was ending, and they hurried to make it into place on the floor before the next could begin. Here, with some breathing room, it was easier to speak to one another.

“Do you know how to dance?” she asked.

And her heart skipped slightly when the music softly gathered, starting the tune to a familiar waltz, and she was answered by a wink.

He bowed to her, as every partner did, and she curtseyed back before Link moved in front of her again. His hand wrapped under her arm and rested perfectly on her back while he took her other hand in his.

Well, he knew how to stand, if nothing else.

And then they were spinning.

Zelda needed no help keeping up with this dance, as it was one she knew well, but she could feel Link’s hand on her back was tight and assured as he led her through a twirl before catching her again and resuming their easy 1, 2, 3 spinning with the entire group.

“Do I know how to dance,” he jokingly mocked into her ear when they returned together.

They stopped with the group and reversed directions, spinning fast and tight in the process. Link held her closer, and Zelda could barely breathe.

“Your hold is wrong now,” she managed to breathe out, despite how her stomach was being brutally assaulted with an onslaught of nervous butterflies desperately trying to find their way out of her.

He cocked his head, an attitude that she almost expected. “I know. I wanted you closer. Is that okay?”

She felt like she was just going to die. He was so unapologetic about his flirting, and each time he spoke, her heart beat faster than it already was. “Only if you finally answer my question.”

He nodded and Zelda spun out away from him before returning again. “I’m travelling with the Queen of Faron. Believe it or not, I am actually used to this sort of dancing as well.”

Once she was satisfied with an answer, she adjusted her hold on him so she was closer as well, their masks touching. “My surprise stems from you and I meeting while you were being chased by a hoard of moblins. That doesn’t seem much like someone travelling with a Queen. Are you a knight, then?”

He hesitated before nodding. “I am, yes.”

His hands were on her waist and he lifted her as they spun before setting her back on the dancefloor.

“You know,” he said when they were close again, “you and I are even now.”

“How so?”

“Well, I crashed into you yesterday, and you crashed into me today.”

Zelda chuckled. “True, I suppose. I am sorry, though. Did I hurt you?”

“I’ve taken far worse hits, believe me. Besides, I’m rarely graced with the run-in of a lifetime with a stranger I haven’t stopped thinking about.”

This time, they both missed their cue for a twirl, and Zelda’s grip tightened on him again. “Is that so?” He nodded and Zelda swallowed her nerves. “I feel the same. Though I have a confession to make.”

“Oh?”

“I used a fake name.” She shrugged. “You were a stranger, and I didn’t know you. And I was afraid you might know me if I said my name.”

Link didn’t so much as blink. “I can understand that. Though, I’m Faronian, and I can’t say I know the names of anyone who works here. May I know your real name, then? After a full day and a dance together, I’d say we’re hardly strangers.”

“We most certainly are still strangers. Close strangers, but strangers nonetheless,” she said, her hand so high up on his shoulder that her fingers could play with some of the loose hairs by his neck that had fallen from his low ponytail.

He arched into her at her touch and the front of their masks were touching again. “Is this how you treat strangers?”

“Only close strangers,” Zelda laughed. “My father wanted to name me after the late Queen to honor her.”

“So… Zelda?”

She nodded and hid her face by looking away, hoping she hadn’t given away too much. She’d truly told him very few lies, if any other than her name. Everything else just took some imagination to catch her true meaning.

“Zelda then,” he whispered just as the music ended.

It took far longer than it should have to let go of each other to clap for the orchestra. There was a brief pause for new dancers to join, old ones to leave, and for partners to change.

Zelda caught a glimpse of red looking her way, and squinted to make out the mask similar to hers. Rae was pushing her way through to see what was happening.

“Excuse me,” a new male voice said. Zelda turned, and it was the man from earlier, the one that Rae left to dance with.

“Yes?”

“We met earlier, and I danced with your friend as an apology for my clumsiness. I’d like to apologize to you as well.” He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it.

Zelda glanced behind her at Link. He was looking away, pretending to be interested in something else.

“I’m sorry,” she said gently as she turned back to the man. “I was just about to ask my partner for another dance.”

Link’s attention snapped back to her in surprise.

“Would you care for another dance, Sir Knight?”

His mouth fell open and a bashful grin spread along his face, his lips telling the entire story, despite the joyful squint in his eyes. “Yes, very much so.”

Zelda took Link’s hand and turned to the man. “Thank you for the offer, and I do accept your apology, though I don’t believe I have anything to forgive. Have a goodnight, sir.”

He looked shocked by her declining him, but he nodded, bowed, and left them alone.

There was still no music yet, so Link and Zelda stayed together, waiting to hear what it would be.

Link fixed the cuff on his sleeve, needing something to fidget with. “You’re a fast learner, for someone who’s never asked someone else to dance. I’d understand if it was just to get that man away though. I‘m quite good at sneaking off a dance floor, if you need me to.”

“No; I want to dance if you want to.”

His tongue snaked out to wet his suddenly dry lips. “Yes, of course.”

“It’s bad form to dance with the same partner in a row. I’d understand if you wanted out.”

“Not at all. And that’s a stupid rule for nobles and royals who’s faces are on display and everyone is watching them. That rule is moot when we are free behind these masks of anonymity.”

Zelda giggled. “Well, you certainly go to too many of these as well, don’t you?”

“Far more than you know.”

The orchestra played a few notes, and it signaled the dance. Zelda let go of Link, letting her fingers linger in his before heading to the other side of the dance floor.

Where she was accosted by a blood red moon.

“You’re dancing with him again?”

“Rae,” Zelda hissed, her voice the lowest whisper as she held her tight. “That’s the man from yesterday! Link!”

“Oh Goddess! How? Goddess, what?” Rae looked up at him before letting go of Zelda. “Nevermind! Go! Go!”

Zelda took her place in the line just a few away from her sister. Link followed her and took his place on his side.

This time, Zelda bowed first, and then Link. This dance was far more choreographed, and it took years of practice. She waited to see if he’d back out when he realized what it was—if he realized.

But he stepped in time with the music, matching each step perfectly, watching her all the while. His blue eyes pierced into her from where he stood, and she nearly forgot to move when it was her turn.

But they met in the middle, a fancy movement of their wrist led their hands to be pressed together as they spun.

“Is the one with the identical mask the sister you were telling me about?”

Zelda cleared her throat, praying, praying that he didn’t figure her and Rae out. But plenty of people had sisters. “Yes, she is.”

He hummed. “I’ve always wanted a sibling. No matter what anyone said, my mother always said she only wanted me.”

“What did ‘anyone’ say?” Zelda asked, intrigued by his choice in words.

He tensed and they separated for a while, stuck doing a few moves with another partner before they spun back together.

“My grandparents, specifically, wanted her to have more children. I don’t know, siblings seem like fun though, so as a young boy I always asked her to casually alter her entire life just to appease me and have more, you know?”

“I’m not surprised you failed,” Zelda laughed.

“No, neither am I.”

Zelda stepped to the side and their arms were intertwined as they moved. “My sister had a whole five years without me before I cam barreling into the picture. I was a terrible baby, apparently. I cried often.”

“Speaking from experience, you seem like a very welcome disruption to one’s life, regardless of your barreling in. And knocking someone over.”

“We’re even for that!” Zelda laughed, but her cheeks heated up all the same.

And so, they spent several more songs together, chatting about anything that came to mind whenever they were close enough to hear the other. Zelda turned down several more potential partners in favor of Link.

Rae occasionally managed to make eye contact, offering excited encouragement to keep going while she accepted every dance that came her way.

Zelda, though she could have kept going, pulled Link with her when the music ended. He happily complied, holding her hand with a tight nervous energy, despite the entire time they’d just spent in each other’s arms on the dance floor.

She led him through the crowd and out into the hallway before opening the large door to an abandoned balcony.

Tilting her face into the night breeze, and lit only by the light in the hallway inside, Zelda shook her head in disbelief. “You and I found each other two days in a row in two of the most unrelated places. Do you think it was the Goddess’ plan?”

“In Faron, we have the four gods, not the Goddess, but I believe it might have been their design. A rather strange one, though. I’m on a path where you and I are unlikely to see anything further than what we’ve had for the past few days.”

Zelda knew that feeling all too well. “Yes, I fear the same can be said for me as well.”

He looked at her curiously. “Is that so?”

She smiled sadly. “What’s your secret, Link?”

He hesitated before shaking his head. “If we meet again tomorrow, I swear on the gods that I will tell you my biggest secret. But tonight, I just want to be the knight wearing the mask of Farosh before that too is over. And after that spiel, I gather I can’t ask you what your secret is?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he conceded with a smile before he leaned against a pillar that blocked him from view of the door. It offered just a bit more darkness so he could look up at the stars. “The view from this castle is incredible. You can see town, the gardens, and the stars.”

Zelda joined him, leaving no room between them. Link didn’t seem to mind, and instead snaked his hand into hers.

“What’s the view from your home then?”

“Trees. The Faron Woods are just outside my window, and they’re massive. There’s no seeing the end.”

He adjusted his arm against the pillar so he was facing her instead, his hand running confusing but pleasant patterns along hers.

She turned to him, her brows scrunched, though he couldn’t see that. But her confusion disappeared when his blue eyes cast down on her lips and then back up. He leaned forward a bit and then waited.

Zelda barely managed to make her short-circuiting brain work long enough to nod.

Now, Zelda had been kissed before. She’d been kissed many times, in fact. Sometimes, it was from a presumptuous suitor. Sometimes, from the boy who worked in the kitchens she’d taken to for a time. Sometimes it was on the hand, and sometimes the cheek. Sometimes, even the lips.

So she was not unfamiliar with what to do. But Link, especially after what might have been hours on the dance floor, had her stomach in knots in ways that hadn’t been quite so powerful before.

Though they were perfect strangers who’d spent all of two days together—less even— though she felt like she’d known him forever.

He’d confessed he was hiding things from her. She said the same. She’d admitted that for a full day, he’d thought her name was something else. None of it phased the other. Perhaps it should have, but Zelda wanted this one night, and so did her, and who was she to ruin something perfectly good?

Link’s lips brushed hers, but they both immediately started to laugh as their masks bumped the other, keeping them at an odd angle that was both uncomfortable, and ill advised for a proper kiss.

“I’d kind of hoped the mask wouldn’t get in the way,” he admitted, tapping the large snout of his mask that hadn’t been a bother while dancing. But of course, now everything wanted to be in the way.

“We know what the other looks like. We can just take them off.”

Link hesitated again and turned to the door, despite them being hidden from it. “How private is this balcony?”

Zelda made a face. She hadn’t thought of someone walking in and seeing the Princess of Hyrule sticking her tongue down some strange man’s throat. She was glad he thought of it, for whatever reason.

But she was only allowed this night, and she wanted whatever she was allowed.

“We’re at a party with thousands of people all looking for a place to breathe. There’s some risk that someone will come out here.”

He nodded and took a breath before undoing the clasp behind his head and pulling his mask off, setting it on the ground. He was just as stunning as Zelda remembered from yesterday, though she wasn’t hesitant to admit that she somehow found herself more attracted after learning more about him.

She pulled hers off and set it beside his.

He took a deep breath and his eyes trailed all along her face, studying her fine features. She realized rather quickly that she was doing the same to him.

He chuckled. “I must have a line on my face from that thing. It was pressing down on me a bit.”

Zelda nodded and let the tip of her finger trace the deep indent in his skin, just under his eyes that went along the length of his face. Her nail tickled him, but he leaned into her until their foreheads were touching, finally unobstructed.

Zelda let her hand run the rest of the way down his face, trailing down his jaw, his neck, and his collarbone before sliding back up to wrap her arm over his shoulder, leaving just enough leeway so she could toy with his hair again. His eyes widened as he watched her, and Zelda realized that she could no longer see the piercing blue poking through. She could see and feel him breathing heavily, and it seemed that nervousness had taken over him, because he couldn’t move.

While, in fact, the opposite happened to Zelda.

She felt a rush of energy and bravery and kissed him.

It seemed that Link needed the push over the edge, because he recovered from his shock immediately, kissing her back with twice as much vigor.

If Zelda thought her chest was going to explode before, it’s because she’d never even imagined being outside on a balcony, her face exposed, being kissed as she’d never been before.

Her body was on fire, and not even the cool night breeze could cool her down. She was desperate, desperate for this stranger who didn’t know who she was. Desperate for this man that she’d come to like. Desperate for this feeling that she knew she’d become addicted to if she had it for too long.

They both pulled back for air before clashing again in the middle. This time, neither needed much prodding for it to go from passionate to a sloppy indulgence. It was tongues and teeth and clinging to the other just a little too hard, like letting go meant something far worse than distance. It was Link pulling away, leaving her lips cold before feeling his on her jaw and her neck over her racing pulse. It was her hand in his hair, and his gasp into her skin when she tightened her hold on him.

It was… a lot.

Zelda wasn’t one to keep track of time. She often wandered around town well past the time she knew her ladies would check on her at night. She’d been known to forget dinner and spend the time in the library. She’d once assumed it to be the wrong day, and she missed her father’s birthday, though Rae had bailed her out with a spare gift.

So for Zelda to be acutely aware of every second that passed, intent on drawing them all out as long as she could, it was a miracle. She didn’t intend to lose even a second of this time with Link before it was ripped away by the limitations of her title.

The only thing that could take her out of the moment now was—

“Zelda?” It was Rae’s voice. “You still out here? I saw—oh!”

Zelda broke away from Link’s lips and covered her mouth, as if that could hide what Rae had just clearly witnessed, and she squeaked out a sound.

Link turned his face away quickly, using Zelda almost as a shield to stay behind so as little of him showed as possible.

“Don’t worry, Link,” she said, chest heaving still as she patted him on the arm. “It’s just my sister.”

Rae bit her lip to try to fight back a smile. But she couldn’t hold her tongue. “So this is the dragon you’ve been dancing with all night?”

He finally turned to Rae and offered an embarrassed smile before holding out his hand. “Link.”

“Pleasure,” she said taking it with a firm shake, carefully avoiding her name. “Faronian accent? Is this the guy from yesterday, too?”

Zelda thought she’d been burning before, but now she was an inferno. She turned to walk away, but only crashed into Link without anywhere to go.

“You told your sister about me?” he asked smugly.

“Oh, she did,” Rae teased, knowing full well that Zelda already said this was the man from yesterday.

“Shut up!” Zelda hissed, though she felt Link’s hand reassuringly on her. He wasn’t weirded out by this embarrassing revelation, and that made Zelda feel only marginally better.

Rae’s smile faltered. “While I wholly support… whatever this is… you’re out here in the open, and father was just asking where you went. You’re lucky I saw you come this way before, and not him.”

Zelda shuddered at the thought and bent down to retrieve her and Link’s masks. He took his, but it wasn’t without regret, like their initial parting the night before.

“I should find my father. Let him know that I’m still around and see what he wants.”

“I should show my face to the Queen, lest she get the same idea to look for me.”

Zelda nodded, fiddling with her mask still. She turned to Rae. “I’ll be right inside in a second.”

Rae smirked and spun on her heel to wait in the hallway.

Which allowed Zelda and Link a final stolen moment.

Their kiss this time was soft and unhurried, but it was filled with a different kind of desperation than before. This was a goodbye, and they both knew it.

“Gods,” he whispered when they broke apart, though he didn’t move away. “I hate this.”

“Didn’t seem that way,” Zelda joked.

He shook his head, unable to find amusement. “Perhaps we can meet out here one more time before the night is up?”

“I’d like that.” She kissed him quickly once more and forced herself to don her mask once again. “After the second bell?”

“Has the first already rung?” he asked with a chuckle.

The bells signaled a break for the orchestra, and left a replacement in their wake to provide background music. The first was the start of their break. The second signaled their return, when more people were back on the dance floor again.

“No, unfortunately, I don’t believe I heard it.”

“Damn,” he muttered, running his hand along the exposed part of her face before nodding. “Second bell then.”

“Okay,” she grinned before regretfully letting go of his hand as she made her way back into the hallway to Rae. She glanced behind her, and saw him leaning against the pillar, watching her with a smile before she left.

“Goddess, tell me everything!” Rae hissed, locking Zelda in place beside her with a looped arm.

Zelda recounted some of the night as they walked, such as Link’s presence with the Faronian royals, but she stopped as soon as they stood in front of their father.

“Where have you been?” he asked Zelda. “Come with me, both of you.”

Zelda glanced at Rae, but she shrugged, unsure what was going on.

Their father led them into the library that they’d been waiting in earlier, and he sat down. They followed suit, though they still didn’t know why. But they knew their father: no amount of prompting would have him speaking if he didn’t want to.

Zelda was no longer with Link, and once again, time blurred. She listened carefully for the bells, and when she heard the first one, she began to panic. She had plenty of time, but even the thought of missing her final meeting with Link had her on edge.

But someone entered the library. “They are ready, Majesty.”

“Good.”

“Who?” Rae asked.

And to their blessings, he responded. “The Queen and the Prince of Faron. We’ve decided to move up the official announcement of your engagement to tonight while we have everyone here.”

“What?” Rae balked, grabbing for Zelda’s hand. Her grip was a vice, and she shook like a leaf.

“Yes, she and I decided. We’re making the announcement now.”

“Now?”

“Yes, so you wouldn’t have too much time to get worked up. Keep your mask on for now.”

“Then people will know who we are,” Zelda said, hesitating.

“They’d know from your dresses as well. You’re the royal family of Hyrule. Sometimes, you have to make a sacrifice for the family or for the kingdom.”

“Oh Goddess,” Rae choked out, holding Zelda for dear life as she struggled to stand, nerves and fear washing over her in waves.

“I’ve got you,” Zelda whispered, holding her sister tighter still, though some of that was nerves of her own. Link was about to find out her lie. And she’d really wished he didn’t have to find out this way. Their secret meeting couldn’t happen now. People would swarm her for another dance, or follow her for a conversation. Her guards would have to be on her more closely. This announcement turned a fairytale into a nightmare.

“Compose yourself. We’re going out there.” The King wore a mask of a Red Lion, one that obscured his entire face, yet somehow didn’t disguise him in the slightest.

Rae took deep breaths and pulled Zelda close before they made their way out into the hall to wait for the signal to move onto a short balcony overlooking the ballroom that was in such a place that it commanded attention when there were people on it.

Finally, the signal was given and the three of them stepped up into the light, standing at the railing so their hands were hidden, and Rae could hold Zelda as tightly as she wanted with no one noticing.

Their father held up his hand and the music stopped, and the room quieted.

“My people, I would like to first take this opportunity to thank you for coming here tonight for this masquerade celebration. And I do not seek to keep you from it for long. But as many of you already know, Princess Rae of Hyrule is set to marry the Prince of Faron. And today, they have arrived. We will begin a new era with our two kingdoms connected through their upcoming marriage as we celebrate this continued time of peace and prosperity!”

Rae tried not to look sick, but the thudding echo of heels on stairs had her turning to watch as the Queen of Faron ascended the back steps. She wore a deep, forest green gown and a Lizafols mask.

Rae and Zelda held their breaths. Because Rae’s fiancée was close behind.

And slowly, he came into view. He wore a…

Farosh.

A green and gold outfit.

Piercing blue eyes.

This time, it was Zelda who clung to Rae, both wide eyed in horror, both in pain from how hard they were gripping each other.

“Oh Goddess,” Zelda said, nearly throwing up as she did.

“Oh no,” Rae hissed, pulling her sister closer.

And the Prince stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the twin moon masks staring back at him.

“Oh gods…” he breathed, stopping in his tracks as his eyes met Zelda’s.

“Link, come on,” his mother whispered, urging him forward to stand beside her. Tentatively, he managed.

The King shook the Queen’s hand, and they turned out to the applauding crowd below. Both took off their masks, and signaled for their children to do the same.

Zelda’s hand shook as she pulled off her mask, praying, begging that the Prince just had the same exact intricate mask and outfit as Link.

Goddess, all the signs were there. In the same way that she kept slipping with the hints about her identity, he’d been doing the same, and she hadn’t even considered the possibility long enough to notice.

But taking off the mask revealed the blonde hair that she’d just had her hands in, the blue eyes that she’d just been staring into for the past few days, staring right back at her.

His mouth was hanging open, and he shook his head slightly, though she couldn’t reason out his meaning. Perhaps there was no meaning. Perhaps he was just in as much shock as she was.

“Link?”

“Rae.”

Both monarchs called their children up to the center.

If there was one thing that had been drilled into each of their minds since their very birth, it was that they needed to show no emotion, and to hold it in as much as possible. So, without charm or grace, without fear or anxiety, they wore a new mask of stone as they approached the other.

Link bowed stiffly, and Rae curtseyed. They took each other’s hand in solidarity for the sake of the crowd. Rae would later say that both their hands were covered in sweat, and that they could barely touch the other without an awkward mix of sticking and slipping right out of the other’s grasp.

“Please, continue to enjoy the celebrations! And may peace live in Hyrule forever.”

The moment the King gave the signal, Rae let go of Link and ran over to Zelda, pulling her from the balcony.

But there was someone on their tail.

“Zelda, I didn’t know!”

She stopped and closed her eyes before turning to him.

“That doesn’t make this any better, Link. Your Highness.”

Link’s eyes narrowed. “And you, Your Majesty. I never asked for a betrothal. I never asked for any of this. Not that your sister doesn’t seem like a fantastic person,” he added, giving her an apologetic look.

“No offense taken,” Rae said. “Let me talk to Father, Zelda. You’re a Princess as well. Perhaps you can take my place in this arrangement.”

“Marriage?” Zelda said, running her hands through her hair. “While yes, I most assuredly have developed feelings for this man in the past two days, I would hardly say I would like to drag him with me to an altar!”

“It’s a long engagement. Let me talk to him.” Rae tried to smile at Link, but it was forced. “I can’t marry you knowing my sister’s feelings.”

Link couldn’t find the words to speak. But he watched Rae turn to her father and his mother as they descended the stairs together.

“Father,” she said quickly. “I cannot marry Link.”

The King rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”

“No, no, the circumstances have changed. Could Zelda not take my place?”

“No,” he said bluntly, looking between his children. “What’s going on? What are you trying to pull?”

But it wasn’t Rae who answered.

Link’s mother narrowed her eyes on her son. “This is where you came yesterday, isn’t it?”

“No,” he said quickly. His eyes flashed to Zelda.

Everyone was quiet, trying to carefully phrase their words so no one was in undue trouble.

“I snuck out yesterday,” Zelda admitted, the silence crushing until one of them said something.

“As did I,” Link said. “We ran into each other, literally, and spent the day together.”

The Queen scoffed. “Is that all? You don’t want to marry Princess Rae because you spent one day running through the markets with Princess Zelda? Link, your position requires sacrifice. Your feelings are one of those sacrifices.”

That was familiar.

“Today as well,” Zelda added, taking a step closer to Link.

“Two days?” the King laughed. “You’re a child still, Zelda. One day you will learn to prioritize. Today is not that day. Link will marry Rae, they will learn to love each other, and these past few days with Link will fade from both your memories. I can even find you a suitor to speed along the process.”

“No!” she gasped in panic.

“This is settled, everyone. If we change it, we look like fools. Now, Rae, Link, get out there and share a dance. There’s no negotiating. The second bell is about to ring. Go.”

Link reached out and grabbed Zelda’s hand, his mouth open to speak. Not a second later, his mother walked between them and broke his hold. “Go, Link.”

Zelda felt a hand on her shoulder as everyone sulked out of the room.

“I have always told you to guard your heart carefully. This is why, Zelda.” Her father pulled her close for a hug, but she couldn’t bring herself to return it. “I wish neither of you had to do this, but you’re royals. I made the sacrifice. Your mother, too. We all did.”

“I don’t feel well. I’d like to go to my room.”

His grasp on her shoulder tightened. “We will watch their dance together, and then you may go. But you need to see. This is inevitable.”

“Please, don’t make me.”

“Come.”

Zelda felt dizzy as she watched Rae and Link, and it was not the same kind that she’d felt while she was up there spinning with him. And while they clearly knew each step—another blatantly obvious sign that Zelda should have picked up on—they were simply going through the motions. Zelda smirked ruefully. They were doing a good job of making others feel uncomfortable watching their forced moment, if nothing else.

The moment the dance was over, Zelda pulled herself free of her father and left the ballroom, hurrying upstairs to her chambers.

Slamming the door and throwing the mask to the ground, Zelda peeled the dress off of her and kicked her shoes off her feet and into a wall before crawling under the blanket and letting herself feel her frustrated tears.

If she hadn’t snuck out yesterday… if she hadn’t crashed into Link today… none of this would be happening. Rae and Link would have met as true strangers, and Zelda wouldn’t feel anything.

The knock at her door made her wish she’d locked it before crashing into her bed, because when Rae pushed the door open, Zelda didn’t want to talk.

Rae took in the shoes across the room, the dress fanned out on the floor, the discarded mask. She took off her own and set it on the desk before crawling into the bed behind Zelda, pushing her own red dress out of the way.

“We’ll figure something out.”

Zelda shook her head, resolving herself to watching Link with her sister every day for the rest of their lives.

“Zelda, please.”

“I can’t. Not tonight.”

“Okay,” Rae said, getting up. “You know where to find me.”

After a long time alone with her thoughts, Zelda slid out of bed and glanced out at the night sky. It was past midnight.

With renewed energy, she cleaned her room, setting the dress aside for her ladies in the morning with the shoes nearly beside the chair and set her mask on it. Then, she dressed in something simple: some pants and a loose shirt. She slid into far more comfortable flat shoes and made for the gardens.

But before she knew it, she’d taken a wrong turn and her feet unwittingly brought her to the guest wing instead.

She’d known which rooms were designated for the Prince and for the Queen and for their staff. She’d helped pick them out with Rae. So it didn’t surprise Zelda to find herself in front of Link’s room. What did surprise her was finding her hand raised, ready to knock.

“Stupid,” she muttered, lowering her hand.

And the door opened.

Zelda stared at Link in surprise, wondering if she had accidently knocked without realizing it.

“Zelda?” he gasped in surprise. “Are you alright?”

She looked at him. He was dressed in more casual clothes as well, shoes on, ready to leave for somewhere.

“I was headed to the garden and… I don’t know… I ended up coming here instead.”

“I was headed to the garden as well.”

She suddenly didn’t want to go. “Do you have a moment before you do?” she asked, making it clear that she was no longer going.

“Yes, of course,” he said, stepping aside.

She walked into his room as if she’d never been inside. Something about him being in there had changed the way the room felt. His own things were hung over a room dividing panel, his bags opened and his clothes scattered around, likely him looking for something to wear outside in a hurry. His crown neatly on a dresser.

“Sorry,” he said hastily, throwing his things back into the bag. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.”

Zelda took a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell you about Rae. Things she’ll never tell you herself.”

“Zelda, don’t.”

“She’s a beautiful person. Everything about her is good, but she’s mischievous. She helped me sneak out the other day, so she likes that sort of thing.”

“Zelda… please…”

“And she’s stubborn. She can hold a grudge when she wants to. But there’s a really simple way around that if you don’t want to stay mad at her. Just give her a gift. Any thoughtful gift, and she’s over it almost immediately. She would never say she likes receiving presents, but she does.”

“Stop, Zelda.”

“You should get her a flower. She loves flowers, especially amaranth. The purple are her favorite. That’s not the flower I’d pick, but it’s her favorite.”

“What’s yours?”

Zelda stopped. “My… what?”

“Favorite flower? You said that’s not the flower you’d pick. What would you pick?”

“I’m not telling you that,” she said, starting to pace.

“A daisy? Violets? Saffina? Maybe you’re a nightshade person. Lillies? Sunflowers?”

“Silent princesses,” she snapped, spinning on him. She rolled her eyes at his smug expression. “Don’t look at me like that. Just get my sister some flowers tomorrow.”

“You came here to tell me that?”

Zelda’s throat tightened. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure my sister has the best life she can. And if that means telling you the things she loves, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“You’re not going to fight this, then?”

Zelda sniffled once, hoping Link didn’t catch it. “I love my sister more than anything. She’s the world to me. And I’ll choose her over myself every time. Her happiness is what’s important to me now. Do you know where to find amaranths?”

“I do.”

“Good, so then you’ll want to—”

“Please,” he said, finally grabbing her. “Stop.”

Zelda sniffled again and turned to him, sagging in defeat.

“We can work on them. Your father, my mother, we can.”

“My father will never agree. He doesn’t change his mind. Whether that’s pride or stubbornness, I don’t know. But he will not change his mind on this just because we ask. He’ll double down harder. He made me watch you two dance. He’ll do worse until this is not a topic of discussion anymore.” Finally, a tear fell. “You were perfect, you know?”

With slow, deliberate movements, Link went to take her arm, then her other, then slowly pulled her to him and wrapped her in his arms. “So were you.”

Gesturing vaguely to his window, Zelda chuckled before she returned his embrace, tightly holding on. “You told me you’d tell me all your secrets if we ran into each other ‘tomorrow’. It’s tomorrow and I think I know them all. You’re a man of your word, Link.”

“I have plenty still to share,” he whispered before pulling away. “Come to Faron with me. My father might be able to help us.”

“No,” she said, cupping the back of his neck. “No, my sister needs this. She’s oldest, it has to be her.”

“She won’t be happy with someone who is constantly thinking about her sister.”

“What would you have done if I wasn’t her sister?”

“I wouldn’t have to know that you’re right there. I would have thought about you. I would have wished she was you. But she wouldn’t know that. It wouldn’t have been fair to her, but she’d never know, and I’d do my best to be sure of that. But Rae already knows, and she will always know. And you and I will always know. And everyone will know.”

Zelda shook her head. “Get her flowers. She’ll forget.”

“Zelda, please.”

She sat down on the bed, bouncing until she’d stopped and covered her face with her hands. “I’ve known you for two days. Why is this difficult?”

“Because it moved fast, and we fell hard.” When Zelda looked up at him, he shrugged. “You’re not the only one who felt it, Zelda. If you’d given me one more day, I juat might have been in love.”

They both chuckled, though it was laced with bitterness.

“Tell me something,” Zelda said, patting the spot beside her. “Anything.”

“Hrmm,” he hummed, turning closer to her. “I didn’t lie when I said I was a knight. Technically, I’m the commander of the army. I trained as a child, and my father prematurely passed the role to me when he got sick. So, I am a knight. And a good one at that.”

“Humble too,” she laughed.

She stayed all night, sitting on his bed against her better judgement, telling just as many stories as they had that first day together. This time, they weren’t laced with secrets. When talking about where he lived, he didn’t hesitate to say castle. When she mentioned her hobbies, she didn’t dance around how her hobbies affected the image of the crown.

And when the light from the window reached their faces, causing Zelda to blink awake, she realized she’d stayed all night against her better judgement. She was curled into him, and his face was pressed into her hair. One of his arms was under his pillow, and the other was draped over her. She was grateful for the weather, because neither was under a blanket.

She stretched out, and Link rolled off of her, yawning. He glanced at the window. “The servants will be here soon.”

Then he sat straight up, so fast it frightened Zelda.

Link looked between Zelda and the window. “The servants will be here soon. You have to go.”

In her room, the servants arriving to straighten her room and help her get ready for the day was simply another way to tell time. It meant it was seven in the morning, and the unfortunate time that they deemed she start her day. But here, it meant that she’d be caught.

Zelda looked around. She had lightly kicked her shoes off at some point and found them just under the bed. Sliding them on, she turned back to Link. She didn’t want to leave him. Not really.

Not at all.

“This was so bad,” she muttered, realizing her resolve to let things be was breaking.

“I know. We’ll figure it all out later. I promise.”

Zelda groaned at the thought that she’d have to see him again… every day. This would be a chronic pain in her chest, and she just needed to get used to it now.

She nodded and peeked her head through the door before scurrying back to her room.

She was there long enough to duck under the blankets when her door opened again.

“My Lady?” one of the servants asked. “My Lady, there’s a problem. Wake up.”

Zelda shot up. “What?”

Less than ten minutes later, everyone was gathered in the sitting room, Link and his mother included. Everyone except Rae. The King read the letter aloud for the sixth time. It was short and to the point, and very Rae.

Father, if you’re reading this, then I am gone. I left in the night with my lady, and I do not plan to return until you publicly reverse my place with Zelda, as we spoke of last night. This is a small favor that you will not grant. She is a Princess of Hyrule. There is no need for this. I know that forcing your hand is the least honorable option, but I love my sister more than I fear the repercussions of my actions. You will not find me, as I don’t even know where we’re going. And if you want me to return, you know what to do.

Love, Rae.

“Stubborn girl,” the King muttered, crumbling the letter once again before unfolding it and smoothing it out. And he spun to Zelda, who sat far from Link. “What is this coup?”

“Coup?” Zelda repeated, confused. “I had nothing to do with this. My sister just left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye! I’m upset! I want her back!”

“Where would she go?”

“Nowhere! She’s lucky she got out of the palace with how many people watch her constantly.”

“Link, darling,” the Queen said, touching her son’s arm to get his attention. “Lead your knights to find your betrothed. Bring her back safely.”

Link glanced at Zelda. “Where should I start? I don’t know Hyrule.”

“She doesn’t want to be found. I don’t know where to start.”

In truth, she had an idea. And it was only when everyone had been dismissed that Zelda snuck away and ducked into a hidden room in the attics of the castle and saw Rae with her most trusted Lady both nose-first in a book.

“That didn’t take you long at all,” Rae scoffed, impressed.

Zelda sat down beside her. “It was a good guess. You don’t know Hyrule well enough, but you know this castle.”

“And you know me.”

“All a circle.”

“Don’t you dare tell Father,” Rae said, threatening Zelda with the book in her hand. “I am staying here until he breaks. You know I’m safe. Just let this happen. I’ve got your back.”

“This is all so crazy.”

“I know. Of the two of us, I thought I’d be the one to find love at first sight. Not you. You’re so… practical.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Zelda muttered.

“It’s called ‘falling in love’, not ‘instantaneously in love’, Zelda. It’s a process, and you’ve already started it with him. Not me.”

Zelda rolled her eyes.

Rae nudged Zelda. “Where were you last night? I went to say goodbye.”

Burying her head in her lap, Zelda groaned. “I didn’t mean to! I went to encourage him to be with you, and then we were talking, and then I fell asleep.”

“Process.”

Zelda kicked at Rae’s leg. “He’s going out to look for you, you know.”

“Give it a few days. Our father will crack, okay?”

“You’re going to be in so much trouble. I can’t wait.”

“Shut up.”

And as the days passed, the King grew more worried, more nervous. He paced, he snapped, he commanded every soldier to go out and find his daughter.

Zelda spent some time with Rae, sharing how Link was suspicious of Zelda. He knew she was hiding something. And Rae’s eyebrows wriggled and dared Zelda to tell him, to see where he really stood in the scheme of it all.

And while Link had spent most of his days out riding, looking for Rae, he spent nights in the sitting rooms with Zelda. Neither wanted to take the risk of falling asleep or being caught, especially not now, but he’d figured Zelda out well enough to know something was odd about her perky demeanor most nights.

When she told him where Rae was, he sagged in relief.

“I thought you were in denial or something. You were so calm. You need a more convincing expression if this is going to work.”

A week passed, and Zelda had perfected the art of crying on command. Often, she let the waterworks flow at any mention of Rae’s name. But she had the feeling that her father was too upset to notice or care if she’d begun to spend more time with Link in public. Occasionally, it was under the guise of him comforting her.

But Zelda also had the feeling that his mother, who had no sentimental attachment to Rae, was seeing through their ruse far more than her father was.

A week and a half had him practically bedridden with grief in the belief that she’d been killed and would never be found.

Zelda passed a note along to her father from Rae, dropping it for a servant to find. It made its way to her father, assuring her of her safety and her resolve to stay hidden.

And it was then that he gave in.

When the announcement had been made, Rae returned to her father with a smug smile on her face. And he’d been so overjoyed to see her that he hadn’t remembered to indefinitely confine her to her room until several hours after her return.

That night, Zelda knocked on Rae’s door, Link in tow. Rae answered surprised, but not entirely. Her eyes lingered on their joined hands.

“I wanted to thank you for all that you’ve done,” he said.

“We make sacrifices in this family,” Rae chuckled.

Zelda let go of Link to hug her sister. “You know, if this hadn’t worked, Link and I only got closer while you were gone.”

“Because you found me ten minutes after I ran away! You knew I was safe, so you didn’t mind flirting with him!”

“I was not!”

“You were,” Link laughed. “You gave yourself away to me.”

“Because you already know me fairly well. You know I love my sister.”

And soon, plans were made for Link and Zelda’s wedding. They were allowed a long engagement, but once the planning had been done, Link’s mother went back to Faron while Link stayed behind.

Zelda and Rae snuck out still, though it was aided by Link often. He was especially good at causing distractions.

After a year in Hyrule, Link knew the palace well, and he knew the kingdom as well. But Zelda was the younger Princess, and heir to nothing. It meant that they’d be moving to Faron. When the day came, halfway through their engagement, there were no tears, as Rae made the trip with them for a stay.

Link had been quite right: trees. Faron was full of trees.

He spent the first week alternating between giving them tours of his home, which was considerably smaller than the palace in Hyrule, and his favorite places in Faron. Sometimes, Rae tagged along, but she often opted to give them some privacy.

When the day came that her stay was over and she was to return to Hyrule, there most assuredly were tears. Zelda cried well into the night, realizing that for the first time in her whole life, she was away from her sister, her family, the people she’d grown up around.

Link had pulled her from bed that night, dragging her with him to a secret passage that led out of the castle and into town, much like the ones she knew back home had.

She kissed Link under the stars and beneath the trees. And that was when she realized that she might just have someone who was becoming her family as well.

Their moment was cut short by the rustling in the bushes of the forest, and they hurried back inside. It marked the first night that Zelda almost entirely stopped sleeping in her own room.

A few months later, Zelda was sitting with the Queen for one of her lessons about Faron when Link came in. “I’m sorry to intrude,” he said, though he didn’t look sorry at all. “I got you a surprise, and it’s just arrived.”

He held out his hand for Zelda, and she eagerly took it.

Thankfully. Because if she didn’t have it, she might have fallen over when Rae was standing in the middle of the room, arms wide and excited.

This happened from time to time over the next year. She and Link made trips to Hyrule, and Rae made trips to Faron.

This happened until the day of the wedding, two years after they’d met.

There were to be two ceremonies: one in Hyrule, and one in Faron. For the Hylian ceremony, they were married in the great ballroom, and danced until the sun rose. Then, when they’d returned, they had their masks brought out and hung the floral archway that they stood under in a more private, legally binding ceremony that offered her citizenship of Faron so she could officially rule with Link one day.

And that night, they lazed in bed, reliving the day they met, and the ball they anguished over.

“I got you a few things as well,” Link said, kissing her as he sat up. “First is in the other room.”

“It’s not my sister, right?” she joked, looking at what she was wearing. Link’s shirt wasn’t quite what she thought her sister would want to see her in.

“No. You’re good.”

She laughed and skirted past the armor and sword she’d gotten Link. Armor that he’d been drooling over for weeks and a sword that he hadn’t stopped talking about having for months. Something about it being blue had him all excited, and the wings on the hilt had him practically crying with joy.

Which was how Zelda felt when she saw a potted flower, a Silent Princess.

Link came up behind her. “Like it?”

“It’s beautiful, but you know it’ll die here.”

“Not this one. It has been fine for a few weeks. I wanted to make sure.” He led her closer and pointed to a small green sprout. “And another is on it’s way.”

“How?” Zelda gasped, her hand hovering over the perfect petals.

“It’s one of my secrets you still have to uncover.” He grinned and it earned him a playful backhand on the shoulder. “And the other gift is a promise. More than our vows, obviously. But I spoke to Rae, and she’s going to give us a new wing in the palace so we can stay longer. And there’s an open invitation. We don’t need to send word ahead. Not that that was ever an issue before, but still.”

“You go through a lot of effort for me, Link.”

“Well, I love you, so…”

She grinned. “I know you would rather be here, and you give up a lot of time so I can go back. Thank you.”

“You’re Princess Zelda of Hyrule and Faron. You should go home often still.”

Zelda pulled Link to her, kissing him softly. “I am home. Here.”

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers. “I’m glad I crashed into you.”

“And I’m glad I knocked you over the next day.”

“I’m glad your sister didn’t listen to you.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should go back to Hyrule,” she joked.

He grabbed her waist. “But Zelda, you might be a Princess, but you’re my Queen.”

“Oh, Goddess,” she snorted pushing him away as she laughed. “Get away from me, Link.”

“No.”

“Yes, get away. That was so bad I can’t even be near you.”

He grabbed her again, leading her back into the other room before kissing her again. She melted into it before remembering that she was trying to win something.

“There’s no living with you, Link,” she laughed before giving up and just kissing him back.

But this time, he pulled away. “I’m also glad you didn’t listen to yourself two years ago.”

“Because I can’t live without you and vice versa?”

Link rolled his eyes. “You say that with such conviction.”

Zelda laughed, pulling him down with her onto the bed.

Zelda was never good at keeping track of time. So for Zelda to be acutely aware of every second that passed, intent on drawing them all out as long as she could, it was a miracle. She didn’t intend to lose even a second of this time with Link, even knowing that now, they had forever.

[kumeko]

Title: home isn’t a place (it's a person)

A/N: For A Lover’s Lullaby: @doropetrazine! I wanted to write some tender care during the war, with Petra helping Dorothea center herself in the midst of all the tragedy and bloodshed.

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Dorothea had long mastered the art of post-battle self-care. Trapped in a war she’d never wanted, she had to. This wasn’t like her academy days, where the worst she’d faced was a menacing brigand, where her faltering attacks only had to maim and not kill. If she had failed then, her housemate or her teacher could pick up the slack. And if she killed, well, it was only a ruffian. There wasn’t any need to hold back.

Not that that made it any easier. The ever-stoic Hubert had treated those missions like another duty, just another item in his checklist to help Edelgard, and Felix had the strength to shrug off the blood like water off a duck. Dorothea had done neither of those things, the red staining her clothes too bright for her to ignore. A life was a life, no matter how corrupt. Back then, she would beg Ingrid to take her on a long, lazy flight, or borrow one of Hilda’s trashy romances for an extensive hot bath.

Those weren’t options for her anymore. The blood on her hands burned like a brand these days. Her enemies were her former schoolmates, old friendships gone wrong. Dorothea’s attacks were deadly, living in a kill or be killed situation. Any reprieve she’d find off the battlefield was a solitary one.

No, that wasn’t entirely right. Dorothea smiled softly as she stood in front of a plain beige tent, on the outskirts of the battle camp. Five years ago felt like an eternity sometimes, with how everything’s changed, but at least one thing remained consistent. No matter where she’d went the past year, Petra had been by her side.

And hopefully, no matter where she went after, that would still ring true. Ducking into the tent, Dorothea smiled automatically as her eyes landed on her paramour. It was hard not to. Petra stood out no matter where she was, and nowhere more than against the drab browns and greys of their standard issued tents and linens. As with all tents, there was a single cot on the side, with barely enough free room for a person to pace, let alone decorate. Despite that, Petra had managed to put her colourful touch on everything—her clothes strewn against her bed, the bags and pillows that covered her floor. Two lanterns hung off center pole, casting long shadows that did little to dim Petra’s natural cheerfulness. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her axe to her side. It gleamed in the flicker light. Humming off-key, Petra’s focus was entirely on the bow she was restringing.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait so long!” Dorothea apologized as she stepped further in, the tent flap closing behind her.

Surprised, Petra’s attention snapped to her. It took mere seconds for her serious expression to melt into a softer smile, her eyes lighting up as she took in Dorothea. Setting aside her bow, she leapt to her feet. “Dorothea! You have come much later than I was thinking!”

“Sorry, I had to…” Dorothea clasped her hands. After several rounds of washing, they were practically scrubbed raw but she could still feel the grime in her nails. “Clean up a bit,” she finished lamely.

Petra grimaced, no doubt remembering the muddy terrain they’d just crawled through. “I do not want to be experiencing that again. My weapons are very dirty.”

“I can tell.” Dorothea chuckled, gesturing at the polished weapons and then at Petra. “You still haven’t taken your armour off.”

“Of course.” Petra turned to her axe, her chest puffed slightly with pride. “These weapons are how I am being able to protect you.”

Her heart made a funny flip at the casual line, at how matter-of-fact Petra was about it all. Petra always acted like it was common sense, these small trinkets of devotion, these little declarations of love that Dorothea had never experienced before. “Petra…”

“Hmm?” Petra looked back at her and cocked her head. “Is something being the matter?”

“No, not at all,” she replied truthfully, her ears burning red. Reaching out, she tugged on Petra’s armour. “Here, let me help. It’s good to take care of your weapons, but you have to remember to take care of yourself too.”

“That is why you are being here,” Petra replied, her smile growing broader as she turned around to give Dorothea access to the many straps that kept her leather armour together.

The hide always felt too thin to protect Petra as she fought on the front lines, but it was lithe and flexible, allowing her to move as freely as she wanted. Dorothea would probably never stop worrying about it. Keeping her gaze firmly down, she calmed her beating heart she nimbly pried off the armour with a practiced hand.

It wasn’t long before Petra was free of it all and back to her usual bright outfit. She extended her arms above her, her eyes closed as stretched out her muscles. “Thank you! That is much better.”

Dorothea giggled as her girlfriend rolled her shoulders. “You wouldn’t be half as stiff if you’d just take this off sooner.”

“I will be keeping that in mind,” Petra agreed amicably, leaning backwards to realign her spine.

“Now the last part.” Dorothea sat down on Petra’s bed.

“Are you sure?” Petra asked, stepping closer. She leaned down slightly, her hand cupping Dorothea’s cheek as she studied her face. “You are looking tired.”

Reaching up, she covered Petra’s hand with her own. It felt like touching the sun. “Aww, you don’t want me to fix your hair?”

“That is not what I am meaning,” Petra replied softly.

“I know.” Dorothea lowered her eyes, leaning into Petra’s touch. “I know, I just…I need to fix your hair.”

It was her aftercare, though she hadn’t told a soul about it. She wasn’t sure she could even admit it to herself yet, just how much Petra had ingrained herself into Dorothea’s daily routine.

Petra frowned before pulling away. Dorothea immediately missed the warmth. “After this, you must be resting. You are tired, even your laugh is tired.”

Dorothea had appeared in several major productions, acted since she was little, and made it a point of pride that no one could tell when she was faking it. Somehow, Petra always saw through that. It was something she both loved and hated about her. Nodding, she agreed. “I will. Just after this.”

Satisfied, however reluctantly, Petra plopped on the ground in front of Dorothea. She leaned back slightly. “You could get hurt if you are tired.”

“I’ll be careful,” she promised, already reaching for one of Petra’s braids. It didn’t take long for her to unravel it, to take the thick strands and split them apart. Petra had spent weeks teaching her Brigid’s braiding styles and Dorothea’s hands had long memorized the steps.

For a second, she was transported to another time, another place, when the hair in her hands had been golden and the room they were in made of stone. Five years ago, she had carefully brushed Ingrid’s hair while Annette had worked on her nails. Hilda had gone through her closet, searching for something, anything, that could work for a ballgown. It had been a gossip-filled day, enhanced only by Ingrid’s constant flustered state. “We can’t do that again,” she muttered.

“Do what?” Petra asked, curious.

She hadn’t meant to say it aloud and Dorothea smiled ruefully. “Silly classmate things. If the war hadn’t started…we could have worried about balls.” Distracted, she stopped braiding. “If the only battle we’d faced was the Battle of the Eagle and Lion…I wonder what could have happened.”

Petra didn’t say anything, and Dorothea chuckled awkwardly. This was supposed to be her relaxing session, not deep, dark thoughts session. Trying to dispel the heavy mood, she went back to Petra’s hair. “Sorry, that was a silly question.”

For a while, there was only quiet. Her dress rustled slightly as she shifted in her seat. Petra’s long soft locks bound together easily, unlike her own silken mane. Outside, the sun might have set, people had their dinner, patrols walked the camp. Outside, a war raged on but here, in this tent, there was only peace. Only her hands and purple hair and more colours than she could ever name. The candles flickered, casting long shadows over them, and Dorothea wished she could see Petra’s expression right now.

“I am glad,” Petra finally uttered. Despite how quiet her voice, her tone was unerringly confident.

Dorothea blinked, not sure she understood. “You’re glad?”

“That even though war is happening, we are being together.” Even without seeing Petra’s face, Dorothea could picture the gentle expression on it. “I do not think I could be fighting you. Not ever.”

“Me neither,” Dorothea replied immediately. It hurt to imagine Petra on the battlefield, under the banner of a different army. Of them facing each other on opposite sides of the war. To have lost love before it could have even started, a world without these quiet evenings—she would have been infinitely poorer for that.

Petra turned back now, her eyes shining in the dim light. “No matter what will be happening, I am happy. You are my home.”

Dorothea swallowed and maybe it had been better when she couldn’t see Petra’s expression, couldn’t see the naked love that shown brightly for all to see. All those years ago, when she had worried about marrying for money, when she had pictured her future as an empty one as some noble’s consort, she could never have imagined she’d be here. Flustered, she reached into her purse, pulling out a small seashell. If there was ever a time to give her gift it was now. Pressing it into Petra’s hand, she murmured, “For you.”

“A shell?” It was Petra’s turn to be surprised and she held it up, admiring how the light reflected off the reddish-brown shell. “It is very pretty, but I am not understanding.”

“You can’t go ho—” You’re my home and Dorothea faltered, her skin too hot. Me too, lingered on her tongue, too heavy to say. “To Brigid for a while, right?” She held a hand to her ear, motioning for Petra to do the same. “It sounds like the sea. It’s a lot clearer than other shells, and I know it’s not the same but—”

“It is beautiful,” Petra interrupted, closing her eyes as she listened. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you for, for…everything.” It had been a silly crush all those years ago. Now it was something far deeper than that. She tucked a lock behind her ear, her cheeks still flushed red. “You…you’re my home too. I’m glad I’m marrying love.”

At that, Petra opened her eyes, indignant. “It is better to be marrying love, but you are to be marrying me.”

Dorothea couldn’t help it, she laughed. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Petra and burying her face in her neck. Pressing a chaste kiss against her brown skin, she murmured, “You’re right, I’m marrying you.”

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary: The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor's betrothed, Teki's only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn't find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn't the only prince in Asgard...

Chapter 1: The Dagger

Next Chapter

Word Count: 6648

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

A/N: This is an idea that's been in my head for a really long time (like, for several years). I meant it to be a quick little oneshot to get my creative juices flowing, but I completely lost control of it and here I am a month later sitting on thirteen pages worth of writing. Sigh...I never specify the ages of Teki and Loki in the story, but if you're curious I pictured them as early teenagers, between 12 and 14 years old (or the Asgard equivalent).

TW: mentions of child abuse

Read it on Ao3

Teki held her breath as her mother laced her into the crimson ball gown.

“Oh, why did you have to upset him tonight?” she lamented as she pulled at the ribbons, ignoring Teki’s pained gasps. “Tonight, of all nights! You know how important it is for you to look your best tonight, and you’ve gone and made a mess of everything!”

Teki didn’t say anything. The subtlest of movements sent her chest on fire—it was not worth a bruising breath to attempt to defend herself. She was certain that at least one of her ribs were broken, but nothing could be done about that until her mother took her in to see the healer tomorrow with a story about how her clumsy little girl had fallen down the stairs again.

At least it won’t be a complete lie this time. Teki hated lying. Usually, the healers bought her mother’s story without issue and just set about silently fixing whatever she had broken, but last time they had questions. How did a fall down the stairs result in a black eye? Where did these bruises around your arms come from? And those gave way to a scarier question. Do your parents treat you well?

Teki had nodded her head enthusiastically, just as her mother had trained her. Of course they did! Her mother was loving and caring, the best in the world. She loved her stepfather more than anything. She smiled widely, hopefully masking the panic in her eyes. When the healers seemed to drop the subject, she wasn’t sure if it was relief or guilt gurgling in her stomach.

But she’d have to worry about them tomorrow. Tonight, she had bigger problems—like how she was supposed to dance the night away when it hurt to breathe.

If it were any other night, Teki might have been able to get away with playing sick. Norns know she had attempted that excuse time and time again. But tonight was the first night of the Summer Festival. Tonight was when the young men of the court would each choose a lady to hold their blade, and as Prince Thor’s betrothed, she had to be there.

Her mother often reminded her of how blessed she was to hold such an honored position, how lucky she was that her grandfather had negotiated such an agreement with Odin Allfather. No one was quite sure how he had managed it. But somehow, in the weeks before he died, he had convinced the king to agree to a marriage deal between Teki and Thor, thus turning his daughter’s greatest mistake into her most powerful commodity. Teki hated it. It was because of this “blessing” that Osvald had married her mother. After all, the promising of being the father to the future queen was quite the tempting offer.

But he wasn’t her father. He’d never be her father.

“There!” Her mother smoothed the silky skirt and stood up. “You look lovely! No one will ever know!”

Teki studied her reflection in the mirror. Did she look lovely? The gown clinging to her form did little to hide the tightness of her neck, the beads of perspiration collecting along her hairline. She shifted the wrong way and cried out as pain exploded across her ribcage.

“It hurts,” she whimpered, hands hovering over the throbbing area, afraid that touching it might make it worse. “Mama, it hurts so much.”

“I know darling,” her mother sighed. “Oh, why did you have to upset him tonight? Everything was going so well.”

Tears burned in her eyes. Sometimes, this was even worse than Osvald’s fists. She’d drag herself shaking and sobbing to her mother’s room, only to be fixed with her disappointed glare. She never seemed to understand that Teki didn’t mean to make him mad, she just… did. Everything made him mad. She couldn’t keep him happy, no matter how hard she tried.

“Hopefully, we won’t have to stay the whole time,” her mother saying, studying her in the mirror, “Once Thor gives you his dagger, we can probably find an excuse to leave. Maybe we can say that Brant isn’t feeling well.”

Brant was Teki’s six-year-old half-brother, so shy that many in the court thought him mute. Her mother had taken to using him as an excuse when Teki was hurt. It was better than Teki feigning ill herself—it wouldn’t do for the future queen of Asgard to be seen as too weak to stay for an entire dance.

Teki broke into a coughing fit. Her ribcage was on fire. The girl in the mirror didn’t look lovely, she realized. She looked like a corpse in a pretty dress.

“I can’t do it,” she whispered as the tears threatened to pour out, “It hurts too much. Please don’t make me do it, Mama, please.”

Her mother kneeled to brush a loose strand of hair out of her face. “There, there, none of that,” she cooed. “Of course you can do it! I’m sure Prince Thor can’t wait to dance with you!”

Prince Thor was three years older than Teki. He spent his days training in the courtyard with the Einherjar recruits and shadowing his father in the throne room while court was in session. He and Teki interacted only at festivals and balls, where they danced together silently until both sets of parents were satisfied, then went their separate ways. Teki doubted he’d miss her very much if she didn’t show tonight.

Her mother continued brushing through her hair. “I suppose I can give you something,” she said absentmindedly. “Not as much as last time, of course, but just a little something to help with the pain.”

The last time Teki had tried one of her mother’s painkiller drinks, she had passed out on the way back to their quarters, her evident laziness enraging her stepfather. She had sworn she’d never have any of it again, no matter how much she was hurting, but…

“Can you?” she asked, her voice pathetically small. “Please?”

Teki sipped on the concoction as her mother braided her hair into an elegant bun. The mug was only half full, but she was determined to limit her intake to even less. Just enough to make the burning go away for a few hours.

Her mother smiled and squeezed her shoulders. “Oh Tekla,” she breathed, “You’re going to be the prettiest one there!”

Brant and Osvald met them in the hall. Teki wanted to laugh—Brant was dressed up like a little warrior doll in his tiny leather armor—but she kept her face neutral. Osvald didn’t like it when children spoke out of line.

Brant, being his son, could get away with such disgraceful behavior. “Teki!” he squealed. “You look like a princess!”

“Not a princess, Brant,” her mother corrected. “A queen. And you know that’s not her name, darling—you can say her name, can’t you?”

Brant looked up at her with his big blue eyes, suddenly silent.

“Come on,” she continued prompting. “Tek-la. You can say Tekla, right?”

He gulped. “Tek-wa.”

“No, Brant. La. Tek-la,” her mother smiled down at him, but there was something strained at the corners of her mouth. “You can say it. Lalalalala!”

When Brant said nothing, she sighed. “You don’t want to look silly, do you?” she asked. “Do you want people to laugh at you because you can’t say your sister’s name?”

Brant’s bottom lip was trembling, the tell-tale sign that he was seconds away from bursting into tears. Teki forced a cough.

“It-it’s getting late, isn’t it?” she asked. Her voice was too loud and she cringed. “I mean—” Everyone was looking at her now, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. “I mean, I know mother wanted to get to the Festival right as it started,” she whispered. Her chest twinged, the last remnant that the painkiller had yet to take care of, and she bit her tongue to stifle the groan.

“Yes, yes, of course!” Her mother perked up, Brant forgotten in a second. “I’m sure Prince Thor will want to present his dagger early on. We mustn’t be late!”

“Of course,” said Osvald. “We wouldn’t want to embarrass ourselves. Would we, Tekla?”

Teki’s shoulder’s shook with the weight of his gaze. “No sir,” she whispered.

Her hands were trembling as they made their way through the palace. She clasped them in front of her skirt to mask the shaking. This was the first Summer Festival in which she was old enough to accept the honor of holding someone’s blade. It was an old tradition, but quite simple. When a man found a woman who pleased him, he could ask her to carry his dagger. It was a sign of respect, and of faith—he trusted her enough to give her control over his weapon for the remainder of the night. Who got to hold whose blade would be a topic of gossip for months to come.

For the past few years, Teki’s mother looked on with gritted teeth as Prince Thor handed his dagger off to a different girl every festival. Being older than Teki meant that he had come of age before she did, and that for a time he was unable to give her his dagger because she was too young. Tonight was the night her mother had been waiting for ever since she could walk.

Teki was terrified she’d forget what to say when Thor offered her the dagger.

The chatter of the ballroom enveloped her the moment they entered, and she allowed herself to melt into its anonymity. There was a strange kind of safety in knowing that she could be so easily swallowed up by the crowd.

Thor stood on the platform in the middle of the room, alongside his parents and younger brother. He was grinning at someone in the crowd, someone who wasn’t Teki. That was okay. She never quite knew what to say to the crown prince. Hopefully, they could just get their dancing and daggering out of the way quickly, and then he could go back to winking at whoever it was that he was currently winking at. Teki didn’t mind. She just wanted to lay down.

Odin welcomed the people to the first night of the Summer Festival in his booming voice, and with a bang of his spear on the ground, the festivities began. She got asked to dance soon after, by a stocky boy she knew from her Vanir class. At first, Teki wasn’t sure if she should accept—usually, she danced with Thor first—but she saw that her fiancé was already twirling a dark-haired girl on the dance floor, so she thought it would be okay.

Several dances later, Thor was still with the dark-haired girl. Teki didn’t know her name, but she thought she recognized her: she looked like the girl who trained with the Einherjar. With Thor. She swallowed the ball of anxiety climbing her throat and smoothed her crimson skirt. It made sense for Thor to want to spend time with someone he knew well, someone closer to his age. It was just… he had been with her a long time. And Teki knew that somewhere in the room, Osvald and her mother were peering at her intently, waiting on pins and needles for the prince to approach her with an extended hand.

A waiter came by with a tray of some kind of pastries, but Teki declined. The throbbing in her chest was beginning to return, along with a queasy feeling in her stomach. She hoped Thor would come over soon so she could go home and lie down.

A thin smattering of applause broke out over the music. Teki frowned. What happened? Should she be clapping too? She hadn’t been paying attention.

There was a stiffness in the air that hadn’t been there before. People were glancing back at her—why were so many people looking at her? And then she saw it.

Thor was tying his scabbard around the dark-haired girl’s waist in the middle of the dance floor. It took her a moment to understand, but once she did, she felt the color drain from her face.

Thor gave her his dagger.

Thor gave someone else his dagger.

Teki felt as though she had been doused in ice water.

Through the crowd, she felt Osvald’s heavy glare on her. She found him standing on the opposite side of the room, clapping with the rest of those around him. His features were emotionless, but his eyes glinted as they captured her gaze, hard and full of horrible promises.

We wouldn’t want to embarrass ourselves. Would we, Tekla?

Her breathing was coming fast now, so fast that it hurt, so fast that it felt like she wasn’t breathing at all.

Air. I need air!

Teki wasn’t sure how she made it to the balcony, only that suddenly she was outside, gripping the golden railing as if her life depended on it and gulping the cool, evening air.

Osvald was going to kill her.

A despondent wail slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. She slapped both hands over her mouth in an attempt to silence herself.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Why did Thor have to do that? Why couldn’t he have danced with her first? Didn’t he understand?!

Breathe.

The balcony overlooked the royal gardens, lush greenery that stretched far into the darkness of the night. Teki stared out at it all without really seeing it. Had she done something to upset Thor? Was he angry with her? Osvald would certainly see it that way…

Oh Norns, Osvald…

“Are you well?”

Teki jumped, whipping around with a shriek. Emerald eyes peered at her through the darkness.

Prince Loki.

She had had even less experience with the younger prince than with her betrothed, even though Thor’s little brother was closer to her age. He had been in a few of her classes when she was much younger, back when they were both still learning to read, but they never talked to each other. He didn’t speak much then. As far as she knew, he still didn’t.

Had he just been standing there this whole time, watching her panic about Thor’s blade? Teki had never been so mortified in her life.

“I’m well, my prince, thank you,” she tried to sink into a curtsey, but with her ribs screaming in protest all she could manage was a little bow of her head. “I-I just needed some fresh air.”

For a moment, Loki only stood there, studying her with those jewel-like eyes. “I can understand that,” he finally said, cautiously joining her at the railing, “It’s quite stuffy in there, don’t you think?”

Teki gaped at him, belatedly finding the wherewithal to nod in agreement. He turned his gaze to the gardens, allowing the quiet to lapse over the two of them once more. Teki stood rigidly at his side, wondering if walking away would be considered rude or if it was expected of her.

After several minutes of the uncomfortable silence, he cleared his throat. “You look lovely tonight, Lady Tekla.”

The compliment only reminded her of the gown her mother had laced her into earlier, the same shade of red as the cape Thor wore as he danced with the wrong girl. Her eyes swam with tears.

“Thank you,” she only barely managed to whisper.

Teki could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up. It wasn’t enough that she had failed to capture the favor of the boy she was promised too; now she had gone and humiliated herself in front of his younger brother.

Somehow, she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

Loki shifted awkwardly. “My lady, I—” There was something in his tone that sounded almost apologetic. He cleared his throat again.

“Would you carry my blade for me tonight?” he asked quickly.

It took a moment for Teki to process his words, but once she did, she whipped her head to face him so quickly her braids almost slipped loose from their bun.  

“What?” she breathed. He had to be joking. Laughing at her failure. But the prince only smiled at her with a sort of hesitant eagerness. “You—” she stuttered, completely forgetting to use his proper titles. “You want me?”

He laughed nervously. “Well, you’re the only one out here, aren’t you?” When Teki just stared at him, he coughed, twitching uncomfortably. “Of course, if you don’t wish to, I understand completely. I know I’m not—”

“No! It’s not—I mean—” Teki’s head was swimming. Was she even allowed to carry someone else’s dagger? He was still a prince, even if he wasn’t the right prince… it might please her parents to know that the entire royal family didn’t find her repulsive…

She smiled. “I’d be honored, your highness.”

Loki exhaled. “Wonderful.”

He picked at the knot holding his scabbard to his hip, the black leather sheath that housed his dagger. She could just barely make out the intricate design of its handle in the moonlight: snakes of gold intertwined and twisting their way up the grip, their metallic scales shimmering like the stars in the sky. Teki could practically hear her mother wailing about how it would clash with the silver trim of her dress. Still, she stepped forward when Loki reached out to tie the scabbard around her waist.

He was exceedingly cautious as he pulled the leather around her, almost as if he was afraid she’d shatter like glass if he moved the wrong way. Osvald would’ve laughed if he had saw it (“Our prince, ladies and gentlemen, frightened off by a pair of hips”), but Teki was grateful for his hesitancy. She too felt as if she was prone to shattering.

He pulled the strap tight as he knotted it, unknowingly pressing the leather against her aching rib. Teki couldn’t stop the hiss of pain that whistled through her teeth. Loki froze, glancing up in alarm.

“Did I hurt you? Are you alright?” His voice was slightly panicked.

Teki’s face flushed. Couldn’t she do one thing right today? “It’s fine, my prince,” she said quickly, ignoring the renewed throbbing in her chest.

“Are you certain? Forgive me—”

“There’s nothing to forgive, my prince,” she smiled widely, hoping she looked calm and well put together and not as spastic as she felt.

He studied her, gaze laced with concern, but finished tying the scabbard. Her fingers traced over the scaly hilt that now dangled at her hip. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, so loud she wondered if Loki could hear it.

I’m holding someone’s dagger.

Somehow, in all the times she practiced this interaction in her head, she never imagined the giddy rush that came with carrying the weapon. Of course she hadn’t! —in her head, it was always Thor tying the scabbard around her waist for appearances sake, because he had to. This was different. This was Loki, and Loki didn’t have to.

Loki held out his hand. “Would you join me for a dance?”

Teki nodded.

The dance floor was just as crowded as it had been when she had dashed off, but Osvald and her mother were nowhere to be seen. Teki breathed a sigh of relief as she and Loki slipped unseen into the waltz.

For a while, the two said nothing. Teki’s mother had drilled into her at a young age that to look at one’s feet while dancing was the pinnacle of discourtesy, but her stepfather gave her the back of his hand every time she dared to look a man in the eye. As a sort of compromise, Teki had fallen into the habit of focusing only on her partner’s chest during a dance. It was awkward, especially with someone like Loki who was basically the same height as her, but it kept both her overlords happy.

Apparently, it did not have the same effect on princes.

Loki, having seemingly overcome any anxiety he may have been feeling on the balcony, was quick adopt a teasing tone.

“Is my breastplate so terribly interesting, that you continue to study it so?” he asked with a hint of laughter in his voice, “Or am I just so hideous that you can’t bear to look at me?”

Teki started. “Oh, of course not, my prince. I—”

“It’s alright, my lady. I won’t turn you to stone.” Hesitantly, she raised her gaze to find Loki grinning at her. “There you are. You have such lovely eyes.”

Her eyes were murky brown, the same uninspired shade as her departed father’s. That Loki, with his sparkling gemstone irises, was saying hers were lovely was almost laughable. Cheeks burning, Teki dropped her gaze once more.

“Oh no! Not again!” Loki protested. When she continued to keep her eyes downcast, he sighed dramatically. “You continue to deprive me, Lady Tekla.”

Teki tried to bite back the smile that tickled her lips. This truly was the silliest conversation she had ever had with anyone, dancing or not. “My eyes are hardly anything special, my prince. It can’t be that great a deprivation.”

“Oh, you couldn’t be more wrong, my lady,” he said earnestly. “I’d go as far to say that you have the loveliest eyes in the room. They’re warm and inviting—like freshly roasted chestnuts on a winter’s day. Subtle, but subtle suits you, doesn’t it?” He reached out to tip her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “As I said, lovely.”

If her cheeks had been burning before, they must have been on fire now. “If you say so, my prince,” she murmured. Loki laughed, spinning her about to the music.

While he seemed blessedly content to drop the topic of eye color, Loki was quite clearly intent on carrying out a conversation. It was strange, to say the least—Teki had never known him to speak two sentences together at once, but now that he had started, he talked more than all of her previous dance partners combined. Even stranger was his determination to maintain a dialogue: he’d ask her questions about her family and hobbies and seemed to genuinely listen to her answers, however threadbare they may have been. Teki was shocked to discover that Loki knew her brother’s name and age, something Thor never seemed to remember.

“I suppose I just have a better memory when it comes to such things,” he shrugged when she said as much. Teki wondered if she was imagining the faint pink in his cheeks.

They had taken a break from dancing, standing huddled in the corner near a refreshment table as they sipped tiny goblets of wine. Usually, Teki tried to avoid the sickly sweet glasses, filled so carefully to their golden brims, but the pain in her ribs was getting quite severe and her mother always insisted that alcohol could mask any kind of ache.

Out on the dance floor, Prince Thor was twirling the dark-haired girl to whom he had given his dagger, laughing with an enthusiasm that suggested that he may have been drinking some wine as well. Loki had said that the girl’s name was Sif, and that she and his brother had grown quite close in the past year.

“It’s another one of his passing fancies. Nothing to worry about,” he had told her. “He has a tendency to forget that the universe doesn’t orbit him. His choice had nothing to do with you.” Teki wished Osvald would see it the same way.

She caught glimpse of her stepfather on the other side of the room, laughing gaily with a woman who was not her mother, and quickly averted her eyes. Her free hand caressed the hilt of Loki’s dagger at her hip. The younger prince may have granted her a respite, but it would not last. It was wishful thinking to hope that he would not blame her for Thor’s decision. He blamed her for everything. The outburst from earlier, the one that ended with her in a crumbled heap at the bottom of the stairs, had been over a book missing from his nightstand. Teki hadn’t touched the book, hadn’t even been aware of its existence, but Osvald still dragged her out of her room by her collar, shouting about harboring liars and thieves under his own roof.

Teki swallowed. No, he would be furious when they returned tonight. He’d wait until her mother went up to put Brant to bed, and then he’d turn on her.

“You had one purpose tonight. One singular purpose.”

Maybe he’d pick something up. A heavy book. One of the silver candlestick holders. He liked to hold things in his hands, liked the authority it gave him. Or maybe he’d just knock her to the floor with his fists.

When Teki had been little, she used to run from him. That was foolish. Running made him even angrier when he caught her, and he always caught her. She knew better than to try now. Now, when Osvald was mad, she knew to stay as perfectly still as possible, to muffle her cries and staunch her tears as much as she could, and to let him hit and kick and rant as much as he liked because then it was over faster. When he was finished, she could hobble to her parents’ room, where her mother would be pretending that the walls were too thick for her to hear the thuds.

A hand on her wrist made her jump, spilling her wine on the floor.

“Forgive me, my lady, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Loki smiled, but there was a sense of worry behind his eyes. “Are you well?”

Teki nodded, not trusting her voice. This was the second time tonight the prince had been concerned enough with her wellbeing to ask that question. She needed to pull herself together. But her hands were beginning to shake worse than leaves in the wind, and her breath was coming in fast little hiccups, her chest screaming. Somehow, she knew Osvald was watching.

Loki said something, but his troubled face was quickly fading into a blur of sound and color. She couldn’t have a scene. Not now, here, in front of the whole court! She couldn’t give him another reason to be mad! He was already so mad—

She cried out when someone wrapped their arm around her waist, pressing a little too hard on her injured ribs, but the grip loosened and she realized it was only Loki, guiding her out of the ballroom and down the hall to a bench. The sudden lack of the hum of hundreds of voices left her ears ringing, but somehow, the effect was soothing.

Teki was choking out apologies even as the prince helped her into the seat. He shushed her, kneeling before the bench and stroking her knee through her dress. That was soothing too.

“Breathe,” he murmured. “Just breathe. It’s alright. You’re safe.”

His words lulled her racing heart to a steadier pace. She closed her eyes and did as he said.

Breathe. In and Out. It’s alright. Just breathe.

She didn’t notice when his hand moved from her knee to her waist, but she did notice when his reassuring stream of words cut off abruptly. Teki opened her eyes to see him frowning at her middle.

“You’re injured,” he said.

Her heart jumped to her throat. “W-what?”

“This swelling by your chest. That’s not normal.” He looked up, his features distressed. “You’ve been in pain this whole time, haven’t you?”

Teki turned away. She couldn’t face him, not with him looking up at her like that. “I fell down the stairs,” she whispered when she realized he was waiting for an answer, quietly, quickly, all in one breath.

Loki said nothing. He brought his other hand to join the first at her waist and muttered something. A strange heat enveloped her chest, soft and safe, and suddenly the pain was gone. Just gone, as if nothing had ever happened. Teki inhaled. She had heard that the younger prince had his mother’s talent for magic, but never had she imagined he was capable of such healing.

“Thank you,” she managed to breathe. Then she burst into tears.

She shouldn’t have been surprised. It had been building all night, the panic slowly rising in her throat even as she fought to swallow it whole. It was only a matter of time before it came pouring out. Still, it was humiliating. Teki buried her face in her hands, as if she could hide her obnoxious sobbing from the prince.

He rose. Teki half expected him to return to the party: after all, he had done more than enough. There was no need for him to sit here and watch her bawl like a baby.

But he didn’t leave. Instead, she felt his weight settle next to her on the bench. Gently, he began stroking her knee again, just a feather-light touch that she barely felt through her skirt. He said nothing.

They sat like that for a while, the silence of the hallway pierced only by her wet hiccups. It was a pathetic display and Teki knew it, but she didn’t have the energy to pretend otherwise. Honestly, it started to feel rather nice after a bit. There was no staging right here, no role she had been trained to play. Lady Tekla of Asgard, betrothed of Prince Thor—that girl had washed away with the tears. Now, there was only Teki: battered and broken, but real.

Slowly, she got ahold of herself. Steadied her breathing, fixed her hair, wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand—at least, that’s what she was making to do when Loki held out a handkerchief. Teki took it with mumbled thanks. She tried not to concentrate on what he must have been thinking of all this. A bitter laugh tickled her lips as she dabbed at her nose: at least it was only Loki who bore witness to what a mess she was, and not Thor, or worse, Odin.

He was the first to break the silence, his tone measured and deliberate. “My mother is very protective of the ladies of the court,” he said, holding her in his gaze. “If she thought that one was being mistreated, she would not hesitate to take action.”

Teki swallowed. She knew what he was asking. Here he was, trying to throw her a line and pull her to safety. She just didn’t know if she could take it. For a moment, Teki imagined going to Frigga, spilling her guts to a sympathetic mother, watching as her stepfather was arrested and dragged away on the orders of the Queen. It was a lovely dream, but it soon faded into something quite different. Going to Frigga, telling her everything, only to have the Queen call in Osvald to check his story. Osvald would lie. So would her mother. So would Brant, if they had time to tell him what to say. And Frigga would shake her head and chastise her for lying and send her back with her family, and Osvald would take her by the arm and, and…

We wouldn’t want to embarrass ourselves, would we Tekla?

“It’s fine, my prince,” Teki said, twisting the wet handkerchief around her fingers. She couldn’t look at him. “It’s fine. It was just an accident.”

Even with her focus on her lap, she could feel the prince studying her. How was it, she wondered, that this boy’s gaze was so tangible that she always knew when his eyes were on her?

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

Teki nodded. Her eyes were burning again, but she had cried enough today and was determined not to start again.

“Lady Tekla,” he shifted, leaning closer to her. “Please. There must be something I can do.”

It wasn’t right, hearing the prince say her birth name so gently, not when it belonged to Osvald. It had never bothered her before, but suddenly, she couldn’t stand it. “You can call me Teki,” she blurted out without thinking. Gasping, she clapped her hands over her mouth.

But Loki didn’t seem offended at her direct tone. “Teki?” he asked, cocking his head. “Is that a nickname?”

Her cheeks were on fire, but she nodded. “In-in a way, my prince,” she stuttered. “Please, forgive my—”

“There’s nothing to forgive, my lady,” he laughed. “Please, continue.”

Teki inhaled, swallowing her embarrassment. “Well… I don’t really go by Tekla. Or, I do, but… my brother calls me Teki.” She was speaking far too fast and likely making very little sense, but now that she had started, she found she couldn’t stop. “He can’t pronounce his l’s, see, so he just calls me Teki. It drives my mother crazy. She thinks he sounds like a simpleton. But… I kind of like it. More than Tekla, I mean. My—” she stopped abruptly, before she ventured out into more dangerous territory.

Loki nodded. “Go on.”

Teki bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t supposed to talk about him. She especially wasn’t supposed to talk about him to a member of the royal family. But Loki was sitting there, smiling at her with an eagerness she had never seen from anyone else, and she found herself trusting him despite herself.

“My father called me Teki, too,” she whispered. “My real father. Before he… went away.” She sighed. Saying it felt like a betrayal. Her father had been a kind, wonderful man, a musician in the royal court. According to the stories she heard from the servants, he had been absolutely enchanted with her mother, who greatly enjoyed the attention from the court’s most talented bard. Teki had been the accidental result of a few minutes indiscretion between performances.

Once he found out, her grandfather had been in a rush to marry his daughter off to a respectable noble before the pregnancy began to show. But the musician wouldn’t have it. The child was his, he argued. By law he had the right to raise it as such. Teki’s grandfather offered him money, land, prestige, but he held his ground. In the end, Teki’s mother had no choice, and the two were wed.

Even as a child, Teki knew that her parents didn’t like each other. They slept in separate beds in separate rooms and spoke to each other only through servants carrying messages. When her grandfather visited for lunch, her father was not allowed to the table. But he didn’t care, and so neither did Teki. He was content to spend his days carrying her through the gardens on his shoulders, singing songs of dragons and warriors and brave little princesses who saved the day. She learned to play the piano before she learned to read, sitting on his lap and covering his tan hands with hers as they danced across the keys.

“My little Teki,” he’d laugh when they finished a piece together. “You’re going to put me out of work!”

She had just started her lessons when the negotiations between Odin and her grandfather began. At the time, Teki didn’t really understand what was happening, only that her grandfather was coming over more than usual, and that he was angry at her father more than usual. When she asked her father about it, he told her not to worry.

“The adults are just trying to figure some things out,” he said, tucking her into bed. “It’s nothing you should be concerned with.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you, Teki.”

“Love you, Daddy.”

Then one day he was gone. Just gone. Her mother produced a letter he had left behind, explaining that family life had just become too overwhelming for him and that he had formally dissolved his marriage. Within a week, everything had changed: his room had been cleared out, the piano sold away, her mother’s engagement to Osvald formally announced. A week later, Odin made public his agreement with her grandfather, betrothing his eldest son to Lady Tekla.

Teki was banned from talking about her father.

“He left us, dear,” her mother explained. “He didn’t love you. He’s not your father anymore. We have Lord Osvald now.”

Teki nodded, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. He went away. He left. He doesn’t love you. He’s gone. She chanted the words in her head over and over again, trying to convince herself of their validity. But she couldn’t bring herself to believe them.

When her father first disappeared, a handwriting specialist was produced to determine whether or not the letter was genuine. He concluded that it was in fact written by Teki’s father and that the sentiments expressed within were completely authentic. But he was wrong.

At the bottom of the letter, her father had left a note for her. “My dear Tekla,” it said, “I hope you understand that this is all for your own good. Someday, I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me. Love, Daddy.”

Her father never called her Tekla.

Of course, Teki didn’t tell any of this to Prince Loki. Still, he seemed to be struggling to come up with a response to what little she had said. She wondered how much he knew about her father. Her family had done a good job of disappearing him from existence—most of the court believed her stepfather to be her biological father. Over the years, she had gotten used to being introduced as Tekla Osvalddottir, as deeply as it stung.

“It sounds quite special,” the prince finally said. “Are you sure you want me to use it? I feel as though I might profane it.”

Teki flushed at the reminder of how they reached this subject. “You don’t have to, my prince,” she murmured. “Only if you want to. I mean—I do prefer it to Tekla, but—”

“Well, in that case I shall,” he said softly. “Lady Teki. It’s quite sweet. I like it.” He grinned, his green eyes lighting up. “It’s only a few letters off from Loki, after all.”

She giggled despite herself. “Just… don’t let my mother hear you say that. I think she’d go mad if anyone else started calling me Teki.”

“Well, now I won’t be able to help it, will I? I do so love my mischief.”

Inside the ballroom, she could only just barely hear the notes changing to a slower dance. Perhaps it would be best if they returned now. Who knew how long she had kept the prince away from the festival with her wild, emotional nonsense. Someone was certain to be looking for him.

Loki seemed to read her mind. “If you’re feeling better,” he asked, standing up and offering his hand, “Perhaps you would honor me with another dance?”

Teki beamed. “I’d love to, my prince.”

The ballroom was just as they had left it, couples swaying, laughing, drinking. She noted Thor with Sif on his arm in one corner, her mother with Brant in another. Osvald was nowhere to be found, and Loki seemed to have no intentions of letting her search for him. He swept her into his arms, her gorgeous crimson dress fanning out around her, and pulled her out onto the floor. There wasn’t much to this dance: it was mostly just simply swaying, soft and soothing like her partner. Teki found herself melting into the movements, entranced by Loki’s smile.

“I’m glad Thor didn’t give me his dagger,” she whispered. She was surprised by how much she meant it.

Loki’s breath hitched. “Really?”

She nodded. Maybe Osvald could try to make her regret it, but she could feel the truth deep in her chest.

Her prince smiled. “Me too, Teki,” he whispered. “Me too.”

[the-melting-world]

Can you write about Valerius’s hidden gymnastics/pole dance/Lyra/aerial silks talent?~ (pick whichever lol)

Oooh Mads! Please forgive me for taking so long. I was saving this one! I’m going to go with *aerial* – As in aerial yoga talents. 😉

Tagging some more babes: @apprenticealec @arcanecadenza @miserytheapprentice

~ 1K words

Kipling Bronne visits the palace several times a week to groom her arrangements and care for the more sensitive plants in and around the royal grounds. She often takes her longest break in the shadier section of the garden with Portia Devorak, where they share gossip, picnic snacks, and pets between their familiars.

One day, Kipling decides to bring a couple of yoga mats, hopeful that Portia would want to join her in some sun salutations.

“Nice call, Kip!” Portia said as she extended her body into upward dog. “This is a great idea to burn some steam!”

Kipling chuckled to herself as she relaxed from upward dog into a lazy cobra. She honestly had no idea where Portia got all of her energy. It took most of Kipling’s concentration to move through the formations with any sort of grace and synchronization of the breath.

They both slid backwards into downward dog. Poria simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to giggle at the mere thought of her butt reaching for the sky. Kipling struggled to keep her balance through all the snickering and snorting between the two of them.

“Portia! Quit wiggling your butt like that or I’m going to capsize!”

This only invigorated the redhead’s juvenile shenanigans. In the end, they both toppled onto their mats in a fit of giggles and raspy breath-catching.

In the midst of this, Kipling felt the beginnings of a spring shower peppering her face. The drizzling increased, declaring an end to their yoga session. 

Portia righted herself and shook her fist at the sky. “Darn it! We were just getting started!”

Kipling rolled up her mat. “Maybe we can find a quiet spot in the palace to finish up.”

A spark lighted in Portia’s eyes. “I know where we can go!” She gathered up her mat without bothering to roll it and popped onto her feet. “It’s a pretty quiet place. Consul Valerius is the only one who might show up, but I’m sure he won’t notice we’re there.”

At the mention of the courtier, Kipling suppressed the urge to reach for her ghost lock and tug out of nervousness. Instead, she stood up slowly and clutched the rolled up mat to her chest. Pretending to be more interested in the rain, she asked, “The consul?”

Portia skipped ahead at a brisk pace. “Yep. I’m certain he thinks no one knows what he’s up to in there. You’ll see.”

Kipling made a curious sound as she picked up her own pace. She hoped it wouldn’t betray her intrigue at the thought of spying on the consul. When she and Portia reached their destination, they were unexpectedly apprehended by a servant, who made it no secret that they were desperate for Portia’s help.

“Mind waiting for me while I handle this, Kip?” Portia asked as the other employee practically dragged her away.

Kipling hesitated. “Uh…”

“Okay!” Portia waved over her shoulder. “Be back soon!”

When it was clear that Kipling was indeed on her own, she steadied herself with a few deep breaths and passed her cowrie shells between her fingers. Then she entered the room.

Three thick, sturdy beams were anchored above. The window shafts revealed how hard the rain was coming down. The warbled roar brought some calmness to Kipling’s nerves. Her eyes locked onto the silk ribbons cascading from the beams. And then on the figure rotating languidly from a cradle of lavender silk.

Kipling drifted behind a stray ribbon panel, but she never took her eyes away from Consul Valerius. His eyes were closed, head tilted back, spine gently arched against the taut fabric that held him aloft. He only needed to build a little momentum in order to launch himself into one constellation after another.

Cygnus. Capricornus. Leo.

His body unfolded.

Lyra.

Kipling wandered into the light where she could get a closer look. Valerius was in between formations, hanging upside down when he opened his eyes. His gaze, pale and golden, found Kipling’s. Her breath caught as she detailed the recognition on his face. 

And then, just like that, it was gone.

Kipling tensed as his gaze passed right through her. Valerius carried on with his routine as if he never saw her. But something was different…

Consul Valerius wound himself higher and higher, closer and closer to the stormy heavens. Kipling envied the strength in his upper body as he propelled himself further into his aerial dance. His braid followed him in a poetic arc as he briefly surrendered to gravity, unraveling dangerously towards the marble floor before the ribbon finally caught.

Kipling gasped, realizing too late that it was all intentional.

He’s showing off, she mused. But was he doing it to impress her or simply to prove that he could?

As if to answer her question, Valerius made eye contact with Kipling. She looked deliberately into his cloudy irises and arched her brow, daring him to take this acrobatic venture further than the stars.

A lovely sheen collected across his forehead as he accepted the challenge. Kipling listened to his breath become more labored as he manipulated the silk and relaxed into each pose. She marked the asanas that she recognized – warrior, pigeon, crescent, crow. The rest she admired for how the consul could contort himself to achieve something so sublime.

Suddenly, Valerius stretched out the ribbons, creating a hanging tent. He disappeared inside. The ribbons descended until he hovered a foot off the floor.

Kipling approached the suspended hammock. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Valerius leaned forward enough to use the fabric as a swing. His braid was barely hanging by a cross section, making Kip wonder how many he permitted to see him this way.

“It’s interesting,” said the consul as he swung towards her, “the heights one can reach when they believe no one is watching.”

A small smirk found its way on Kipling’s lips as her eyes drifted away from the consul’s and down his chest. With a turn of her head, the delicate layer of sweat clinging to him almost glistened in the soft, gray light.

Valerius cleared his throat. “So then.”

Kipling looked back up.

“Why are you here, Miss Bronne?”

Kip considered the ways she could answer him. She could be honest and say she came to complete her own asanas. She could flirt and say that he was the reason she was standing there. Instead, she came close enough for their knees to brush whenever Valerius swung forward.

“To escape the rain.” Kipling settled on this, unafraid of the way the consul’s gaze took her in.

“Were you successful?” He swung forward for the last time, anchoring her knee between his. Kipling stumbled into his lap. His hands found her waist and steadied her.

“No,” Kip whispered as she let her palms slide against his wet pectorals. “Not quite.”

Valerius regarded her evenly. “Pity.”

Then he pulled her down with him into the hammock. Kipling entered a dark realm of weightlessness. Valerius shared more of his sweat with her. She gave him bold, restless affection. The ribbons held them in a snug cocoon. Above the ground. Protected from the rain.

[sanderssides-springfling]

Hi!! This is for @always-anxious612 I really hope you like it, I had a lot of fun writing it!! And to the mods, thank you for running this, its been amazing! I might have signed up with jitterly-glittery or this blog but either way, I hope everyone enjoys!!

Synopsis- Prinxiety cuddles and memories and banter, thats it, I love them.

It was a cold, dark evening, on the outside at least. A storm was brewing, you could see, and all the roommates were inside their home. Logan and Patton had retired to their room for a cuddling-with-cookies-and-cocoa session, (named by Patton and reluctantly accepted by Logan), which meant the living room was free for Roman and Virgil. As Roman danced about the kitchen, popping popcorn and grabbing drinks, Virgil sat on the couch, scrolling through Disney+ to find something they would both enjoy.

“I really do think the Mandalorian is our best bet- its got action,” Virgil gestured towards Roman, “and its called a ‘space western,’ apparently, which is the best thing ever.” He said as Roman walked over with his huge polka-dotted bowl of popcorn, balanced on a tray with sodas and candy.

“You’re right, but we’ve already watched it,” Roman said, mouth full of popcorn. “Twice.”

“You’re disgusting, and we’ve already watched everything on here.”

“Okay fair but still.” Roman says, “We should watch something..lesser watched.”

“Nightmare Before Christmas?” Virgil offers, shrugging, and taking a bit of popcorn.

“You’re a cliche, every single bit of you.” Roman says, looking him up and down. Virgil was wearing a pullover black hoodie and sweatpants, his long, dark, braided hair pulled back. Virgil gives Roman a scowl as he laughs and says, “I’m not wrong- but yes, Nightmare Before Christmas does sound good.” Almost on cue, lightning strikes outside and instinctively, Roman and Virgil huddle close. Roman blushes slightly, apparent on his light tan skin.

Virgil clears his throat, a small smile on his face, “The emos win again,” he says, quickly finding the movie and playing it, both of them cuddling close on purpose now under the huge blanket Roman had gotten long ago.

“I think its more, ‘Tim Burton aesthetic nerds’ win again- I don’t know if Nightmare Before Christmas is emo.”

“Why must you ruin everything in my life.” Virgil says, deadpan. Roman blows him a kiss and Virgil shakes his head as they continue to watch the movie before them in comfortable silence.

Virgil snuck a glance over at Roman as they did, taking in his red pajama pants and tank-top that had the outline of the Disney castle overtop in gold, a custom gift from himself. Virgil worked at a craft store with Patton, his brother, where the two both gossiped about, (read: admired) the two theater nerds, one with dark black hair, square glasses and as Patton put it, “A jawline as sharp as my favorite cookie cutter, and wit to match!”, and the other usually clad in button-downs or sweatshirts and cuffed jeans that gave Virgil everything he needed to know

about him- Disney, musicals, and gay. They both came in nearly every day to get supplies for props and, ahem, “science experiments.”

Little did they know those two nerds came in to admire the cute craft store employees, one who had round, golden glasses, freckles covering every inch of his skin, and, “Makes my heart feel…jumpy. As happy and positive as he seems. Excited. Enamored.” as Logan put it, late at night to his roommate Roman as they stayed up well past when they needed to sleep, and one who wore hoodies and headphones and, quite honestly, impeccably dyed hair that Roman couldn’t help but admire. Eventually, out of sheer coincidence, the brothers went to a production of Beauty and the Beast hosted by their local theater where, lo and behold, they saw their favorite pair, one acting as the Beast and the other the stage manager who was brought on stage for his work. After some (gay) debate, they went on closing night, found the two after, and presented them with flowers, their names, and their numbers. And the rest, as they say, is history.

In the present, however, Roman glanced over at Virgil, only to catch him staring. “Hey.” he said in a soft voice, finding Virgil’s hand under the blanket and squeezing it gently.

The heat rose to Virgils cheeks as he replied, “Hi. Sorry, I got…lost.”

“Mm. what were you thinking about?”

“Uh, you. Well, uh,” Virgil rushed to add on as a smile on Roman’s face grew devious, “us. How we met. All that.”

“I was so scared to talk to you.” Roman said, settling back down. “I saw you waiting outside the door closing night and I think I was more nervous to talk to you for real than to actually get on stage.” Virgil laughed just a little at that- not unkindly, but out of relief, because Virgil almost chickened out like, a hundred times.

“I was..so confident to talk to you. Like, so prepared and suave.” Virgil said with a playful smirk. “You could see it in my shaking hands, right?”

“Oh, yeah, and when you said, ‘I’ve literally never been more scared to talk to a cute guy.’ That really told me you were, like, super…not nervous.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I forgot I said that.” Virgil said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He smiled and leaned over, kissing Roman’s forehead. “But I’m glad I did.” Roman blushed just a little and pulled Virgil closer.

“I’m glad you did too. And that Dot’s Decoration Emporium is the closest one to the theater, cause otherwise, I don’t think Logan and I would have gone there.” Roman thought

about it for a few more moments. “And the fact that you were both working there, cause you and Pat were the only reasons we kept coming.”

Virgil’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? You guys came for us?”

“Well, yeah. How many props did we actually buy when we were there?”

Now it was Virgil’s turn to think. He shrugged and said, “Fair. You stayed cause I was cute?” He said with a mischievous grin. “I’m flattered, Princey.” Roman blushed harder and nodded. Virgil laughed softly again and leaned forward, brushing their lips together. “I love you.” He whispered into Roman’s mouth.

“I love you too.” Roman said breathlessly- he was the epitome of a hopeless romantic, and this right here? Everything he could have dreamed of. Virgil pulled him closer and kissed him, cupping his face with one hand and wrapping his other arm around Roman’s waist. Roman leaned into the kiss, throwing his arms around Virgil’s neck and grinning against Virgil’s mouth. “I love you so, so very much, my lover. My gorgeous stormcloud.” Roman murmured into the kiss. He could feel, rather than see, Virgil’s blush, and he loved that too.

Virgil pulled away ever so slowly, brushing his thumb over Romans cheek, pressing their foreheads together. Roman sighed contently, moving only to kiss Virgil’s nose and snuggle closer. And they stayed like that for a good while, relaxing and cuddling together, enjoying each other’s closeness. Eventually, Virgil adjusted himself just so he could curl up into the crook of Roman’s neck, going back to watch the movie in comfortable silence. Roman lay his head on top of Virgils, and there they stayed for the night, peaceful and content.

(The End ;) )

[reylofanfictionanthology]

After the Blazing Fire Dies: the 2019 Reylo Fanfiction Anthology Gift Fic Master Post Part One

The After the Blazing Fire Dies Collection on AO3 | Gift Fic Masterpost Part Two | Treats Masterpost

Flowers for Alderaan by Anonymous for addictedtoacertainlifestyle

Ben Solo is impulsive. He impulsively joined the military and he impulsively opened a flower shop when he was honorably discharged. When a pretty girl named Rey wanders into his shop asking for daisies, that impulsiveness drives him to arrange a second bouquet for her. Every blossom is imbued with a wish, and every wish is to see Rey again.

Someplace Green by Anonymous for agirlfromniima

Keen to test his powers, young padawan Ben Solo Force Projects himself across the galaxy, searching for someone outside his uncle's temple.

Kisses From You In The Flames of December's Boudoir by Anonymous for aionimica

It's Christmas Eve, Ben's on a business trip and Rey is the best at giving presents.

Hidden Moments by Anonymous for apisa_b

Prompt 1: Post TLJ Rey and Kylo / Ben find a way to meet in person and sort out their feelings and differences without the danger of being cut off mid-sentence (or mid kiss), like it has frequently happened during their Force bond sessions. Prompt 2: Post TLJ – a chance meeting at an unexpected place. This story combines these two prompts.

Reverie by Anonymous for ArdeaJestin

Reverie: a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts; a daydream. "You—you are inspired by your students. The women, or… one in particular. That's what they say." A low hum sounded from behind her, alerting at his sudden proximity as a large hand reached past her shoulder, brushing at her jaw—long fingers pushing lightly to urge her neck to the right. With a loud exhale, she followed the motion, taking in the haze of blue; illuminated by the ever-bright moon, skimming at the lake's surface with a breathtaking shimmer. "See that? There is my inspiration." His lips were gentle at her ear in contrast to the warm hands at her shoulders, gripping tight to manoeuvre her body around swiftly, suddenly confronted with the image of herself. Flushed cheeks, hair unravelled, body shapeless and thin. "And this too." One hand drifted from her shoulder, down her arm to wrap around her own, guiding it up and across to her opposite side, tugging her back flush to his front as his head dropped to the exposed expanse of her neck. "Never listen to what they say—I'll tell you all you need to know, my sweet." With Mr. Benjamin Solo, Rey always felt stuck in a nightmare. Or maybe it was a daydream.

all true lovers are by Anonymous for asimbelmyne

She might seem lonely, but Ben can sense that this forest is her faithful audience, and she is nothing but alone. The birds chirp a symphony to her, and the greenery around her bows, grateful to be blessed by her beauty. She truly is beautiful, but that’s not the entire reason he is so drawn to her. It’s her Magic.

lightning through my teeth by Anonymous for below_the_starry_clusters_bright

“Always running, little Jedi?” he panted hot in her ear, the leather of his glove creaking under her jaw. She froze, lips parting with her hitched breath. His thumb swiped down her cheek, wiping away a drop of sweat, and she squirmed in his arms until his fingers dug in deeper. “I finally have you,” he said, equal parts smug and awestruck. A few steps forward to the wall, and she had to throw out her palms to brace herself on the cold stone. His firm heat behind her shifted, thighs pushing into the back of hers as he held her tight. She took a side step for balance, and he took advantage, slipping a firm thigh between her legs to wedge them open.“You like to run,” he whispered as his long nose brushed through her hair, “but maybe you also like to be caught.” What do you call a game of chase when both people are the hunters? When deep down, both want to get caught?

Diyari by Anonymous for Biekewieke

“You stay on your side of this line,” she instructed her towering traveling companion and the stick jabbed the ground. It was a warning jab. Ben knew the next one could take his eye out.“But the shade is on your side.”“But the shade is on your side,” Rey mimicked in a whine. “Deal with it Princess, you can pick another rock. I don’t want you near me right now,” she added angrily and walked away leaving him with arms tightly folded.

Her smile, in the light of the dawn of the menacing sky. by Anonymous for bitterbones

Kylo stands, still clutching one of his boots, as Rey covers her face and coughs. She is on her side, under a threadbare blanket, and Kylo feels a useless wish to drape her in silks. Her hair is matted, and he regrets never brushing and braiding it for her. Her eyes are dim, and he remembers watching them sparkle up at him in the flickering lights of a turbolift.

Elements of Control by Anonymous for bittersnake

In a world where men wield magic and women wield power, the advent of an Earth witch holds the key to victory of Fire and Air over Water.  But when Fire mage Kylo Ren finds that the new witch is female, his hunger for power is set against his instinct to submit.

Caffa and Crystals by Anonymous for Bombastique

Kylo's off not doing his job *again*- Why is the ever important Master of the Knights of Ren heading to a planet like Gatalenta? It couldn't have anything to do with the cute barista from that one time... In which Kylo and Rey have a long distance relationship

Talking Solo by Anonymous for briony_larkin

After always having been a wallflower, Rey suddenly starts getting attention from one of the school's most popular guys: Kylo Ren. At least, if that's what you can call his repeated insults. By the Force, what does he want from her?

All Tangled Up In Obligations by Anonymous for CadomirBane

Senator Ben Organa falls ill and his Jedi bodyguard Rey has to take care of him, becoming his nurse. When he feels better again, she helps bring to life on of his most secret fantasies.

A soft epilogue by Anonymous for CajunSpice714

The return of the Duke of Alderaan incited all manner of gossip and speculation.

Reckless by Anonymous for Cataclyzmic

There was something about Kylo Ren that made Rey feel reckless. or Who knew that hating the person you were sleeping with wasn't an effective birth control?

In Our Silence, Volumes by Anonymous for Ceallaigh

When Rey senses through their Force Bond that Ben is in trouble, she'll stop at nothing to get to him. But what if he's not ready to be rescued from himself? Post-TLJ.

First Contact by Anonymous for Chthonia

So Rey had crash landed on the very first world she’d been posted to. Finn would laugh himself sick when she told him—if she ever saw him again. This was not how her first mission was supposed to go. Something about this planet felt strangely familiar, though, and so did the mysterious alien in a dark cloak who found her...

Call Me By Her Name by Anonymous for crossingwinter

Rey hooks up with a guy on Tinder. He calls her by his ex’s name when they have sex. Then she meets his parents.

cause i'm gonna make this place your home by Anonymous for crunchy

“I promise you, one day, when this war is over, I will take you to see the most beautiful planets in the galaxy.” Two years later, Kylo makes good on his promise to Rey. Together, they take a holiday journeying planets all around the galaxy.

Deprived by Anonymous for Crysania

Kylo Ren is projecting and Rey, too exhausted to keep their bond shut, has to find a way to get some sleep. Comforting the Supreme Leader of the First Order was never in her plans but little of her interactions with Ben Solo are ever planned.

lay then the axe to the root by Anonymous for crystanagahori

“And you? Are you beholden to the estate?” It is an insolent question for a governess to ask a Duke. “I—” He considers it. “I am the heir. I cannot be anything else.” “I believe Mr Burke has strong views on inheritance.” Miss Nima smooths her palm across the book binding, thinks a moment. “You sound beholden.”

A Vision of You by Anonymous for cuddlesome

Rey feels what he feels. The monster in the mask. Until he's not a monster anymore.

The Paradox of Not Giving In by Anonymous for Dalzo

Rey is being brought under the care of Doctor Solo for a broken wrist and mild concussion. Being half-conscious most of the time during the treatment, she accidentally scents her doctor. Since then, she can't stop thinking about him. But does he experience the same thing?

laugh! by Anonymous for dancingpenguin57

Rey realizes she’s never heard Ben laugh and tries to make it happen

The Set-up by Anonymous for dearly

Ben Solo has aways been socially awkward, but when he sets his sights on his brother Poe's fiance Finn's bestfriend Rey during an engagment party Poe decided that he and Finn need to divise a plan to set the two of them up if not for the sake of his and Finn's future wedding then for the sake of their own sanity.

Yes, To All Of It by Anonymous for Elywyngirlie

After Crait, Rey and Kylo each struggle to forget the love they let slip through their fingers. Their Force Bond has other plans.

And I wish that you were here by Anonymous for emiliavioletta

Feeling torn she wishes her stupid car hadn’t broke down. She wishes the snow hadn’t been so bad, but mostly she wishes Ben would stop smiling at her like that.

through the burning night by Anonymous for flypaper_brain

Rey takes a wrong turn on the way back from Yule celebrations and ends up somewhere she doesn't expect with a stranger. Snow falls hard around them, and she's not sure of the way home. Allow there was never known before such a love as mine for her there lives not, never did, nor will, one who more gravely stole my love Do not torment me, lady Let our purposes agree You are my spouse on this Fair Plain so let us embrace

Matchless by Anonymous for Greyrey-lo

Rey and Ben are sweet on each other, but they are hopeless. Luckily their friends Steve and Bucky are there to help.

Stay by Anonymous for hipgrab

Ben opens his mouth to tell her goodnight, but before he can get out the words, Rey says, very quickly: “You should come with us.” His heart stops beating. “Um.” He runs a hand through his hair. He can’t have heard her right. “What?” “A... bunch of us are going.” She smiles at him; he can feel that smile all the way down to his toes. “From work. It should be fun.” (In which Ben comes along on a weekend trip, only to find out there aren't enough hotel rooms. Or beds.)

Crawling Across the Great Divide by Anonymous for Hormonal_Trashbag

Ben had barely reached the last syllable of the phrase when someone pounded on the back door of the apartment. All the tension of the spell dissipated in an instant, rushing away from him like a receding tide and taking both the candle flames and the kitchen lights with it. "Fuck!" Ben stomped over, flicking on the exterior light and unlocking the door without looking outside. "Dad, I told you, I don't want your-" His embarrassingly petulant whine ground to a halt when he realized who was on the other side of the screen door. "You're not Dad." The woman standing on his tiny porch-slash-balcony smiled, dimples popping in her cheeks. "No."

Garden of Light and Darkness by Anonymous for incognitajones

When Lord Mellowyn of Birren dies without an heir, the governorship passes on to his closest relative, Leia Organa. Yet she decides to cede it to her own son instead, in the hopes that it will give him the political acumen he so desperately needs. Determined to prove himself and bring young blood to the tranquil, aging planet, Ben Solo decides to recruit members for his new guard on Jakku, where his father fell in battle years before...

When You're Ready by Anonymous for inthegrayworld

What do they have to offer each other, now that they're no longer at war?

A Song of Darkness and Light by Anonymous for invisibleworld

The events of the Last Jedi, except in a Game of Thrones world. So, more fucking.

perfect hallucination by Anonymous for ishie

A year had almost passed since 'The Great Self-Destruct' that lay waste to the First Order and with it, the likely death of Kylo Ren. As far as Ben was concerned, the galaxy could continue to believe he was dead. Besides, it was only a matter of time before it came true. The icy curse placed upon him would slowly take his heart and with it, his life. It was the price he had to pay to end the First Order. He didn't care. In fact, he deserved it. After banishing himself to the furthest corner of the galaxy, he patiently waited to see his final days. However, after his bond with Rey flared to life at the most inopportune time, waiting for his end on a deserted planet was no longer as simple as it seemed...

it's a date by Anonymous for Jeeno2

It takes Rey approximately half an hour to realize that they’re on a date.

Silver and Gold by Anonymous for kathime

She thought she could show him a thing or two, Kylo Ren, general editor and general terror of Haute Couture. She didn't realize that he would show her his heart.

The Repatriationists by Anonymous for kereia

Rey has become involved with an underground group that returns cultural objects to their peoples of origin. She pulls in Ben Solo, her on again / off again lover, to help with their latest job.

The Burning Ritual by Anonymous for kuresoto

Luke Skywalker has two main rules for his coven: 1) keep magic secret, and 2) no mortal/witch relations. When modern witch, Rey Niima, performs magic in the presence of her mortal neighbor Kylo Ren, she worries she’s broken the first rule and put the whole coven at risk. The second rule, she’s been daydreaming about breaking for months. She can’t help it when Kylo is so hot and nerdy and utterly endearing. With one rule potentially broke, what’s one more?

The Tale of Blue Ben by Anonymous for La_Catrina

Some escaped goats and a chance encounter land Rey in the middle of a fairy tale. She is the happy ending. And she is not alone.

Fabula by Anonymous for leoba

For a school report, Rey and Ben are assigned to dissect the myth of the youngest Sky Walkers.

Angel of Mercy by Anonymous for Like_A_Dove

Rey’s stubborn denial about how sick she is leaved her stranded in her apartment with no food, no medicine, no available friends. After breaking up with Ben Solo, she’d sworn she would never speak to him again. She’s only calling him because she has no one else to turn to. Kylo Ren has more important things to do than moon over lost love. He’s fighting to reform the mission and recover the reputation of the think tank his grandfather once headed. So when he answers Rey’s call, he’s only indulging idle curiosity. And when he rushes to Rey’s side, he’s just helping a fellow human being and maybe anticipating some light gloating. Just normal stuff, really.

Love in the Language of Sweaters by Anonymous for LilibethSonar

Corporate executive Ben Solo is a consummate professional and is always concerned about maintaining the reputation of himself and his company. Never in a million years would he even consider participating in the ridiculous holiday abomination that is Ugly Sweater Month, no matter how much nagging he gets from his coworker Poe. That is, until he runs into his building’s charming, intelligent and eye-meltingly beautiful delivery girl, who also happens to wear the most revolting holiday sweaters he's ever seen.

Temporary Allies by Anonymous for Lizardbeth

After an intense battle, Rey and Kylo end up stranded on an uncharted planet in the outer rim. While they wait to be rescued, they must survive together.

The unfamiliar language of your silent glances by Anonymous for LueurdeLaube

Her memories of their last conversation, such as it was, were blurry, details drained from her brain along with adrenalin. How did Ben sound when he asked her…? Was his fear for her a figment of her imagination — or was it real? “I expected to find your body,” Ben complained, voice like the frozen ground under their feet. Nevermind.

Met You in the Falling Rain by Anonymous for Lulubellisima

While Rey is backpacking through Spain, she gets caught in torrential rain. Ben offers her shelter.

Scrooged at Crossroads by Anonymous for MeadowHayle

Kylo Ren is workaholic Grinch with anger management issues - until his life is changed by falling in love and being visited by a ghost.