#then the apple trees raised it/held it together when magic returned and the whole forest got re-enchanted

[mjhartwork]

Castle Zilchester

[1a-imagines]

A knights promise (part 2)

(Knight!Midoriya x reader)

↬Warnings: smut

↬Summary: After finally running away so you can be together, you find travelling isn't as easy or fun as you first thought. Luckily you have someone to take your mind off it.

↬A/n: This is day 18 of the Izumonth collab! You can find the collab post here.

This is a part 2 if you want to read part 1 you can find that here! But honestly, this one is mostly just smut so i guess you don’t really need to read part one. It just gives a bit more insight into their relationship and goals.

Also the art is mine, I'm really nervous to post my art, especially since its kinda old art and my style has changed a lot, so I don't love it. But I drew this awhile back and thought it would go well with this fic since its fantasy izuku. Anyway! Hope you enjoy ^^

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You shuffled closer to Izuku's side, half hiding behind him, hoping his body would act as a shield against all the wildlife.

Izuku couldn’t help but chuckle at the way  your nose crinkled up at the new environment.

"Have the forests always been so-..." you paused thinking of the right word to say. "disgusting?” you asked as you stepped around yet another puddle of sludge. Your hands tightened around his arm. The forest was indeed a beautiful sight from the palace windows, but now you were trudging through mud and wet grass, your boots already caked in dirt, it wasn't as enchanting as you thought it would be.

Izuku gave your hands a light pat. “I know you’re not used to these conditions yet, but I think you're overreacting a bit, princess. It’s just a bit of mud.” He giggled at your sour expression. Truth be told he expected you would be a lot more enthusiastic about the whole situation, finally having freedom, getting to date him without worry, travelling to far off kingdoms and learning new things. You had always dreamed of such a life.

Though it seemed you never thought through the possibility that not everything would be easy and perfect.

"Still, had I have known it would've been this bad I would've brought bigger boots." You muttered. So far this whole 'adventuring' thing has had its ups and downs, like yesterday when you both found that hidden waterfall, the water was sparkling in the sun, vines the trees hung low to keep it hidden as flowers bloomed around the edge of the lake. It was lovely, you both got to splash around in the sun, make a campfire and sit under the stars when night came. It was amazing! One of the most beautiful nights of your life in fact. However, walking through blank fields filled with nothing but muddy sludge wasn't so magical.

A yelp escaped your throat when you were suddenly lifted into the air. You instinctively wrapped your arms around Izuku’s neck as he carried your bridal style. With raised eyebrows you turned to the man who held you in his arms. "What are you doing?" You asked Izuku who grinned in response, "The mud is bothering you right? And as your knight it's my job to protect you even from nature!" He declared, you couldn’t help but smile at him.

"You're not technically my knight anymore, I ran away, remember? So I'm not royalty." While his logic confused you, you weren't about to complain that you were his arms. "I'll always be your knight, royalty or not, I'm always going to protect you." His smile melted your heart, like the sun beaming down on an ice cream cone.

You pressed your flushed face into his shoulder, deciding not to reply. He looked so determined there was no way you would win this argument.

He carried you for hours, and with every step he took guilt stacked another brick onto your heart. Weren't you getting heavy for him. Surely he must be getting tired? He was strong, no doubt. He had trained sith the royal guards, as well as in his spare time, for years! But carrying another human in your arms for hours!? Even the strongest of men would tire eventually.

Catching your eyes he smiled at you, silently reassuring you that he was ok. You purse your lips in response, not believing him, you had already asked him countless times if he was tired, you had told him he could put you down whenever he wanted, but it seemed like he was pretty content with you in his arms.

The more he walked the denser the forest grew. It was a nice day, the sun's light caressing your skin in the best of ways, the breeze brought a refreshing chill every now and then, you could have fallen asleep in his arms then and there. "I don't think we're going to make it to the next down by sundown.." He muttered, shaking his head with a sigh.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have carried me so far, we left the muddy field hours ago and you still won't put me down." You giggled, playfully poking his cheek with your finger. . He blinked, a blush coating his cheeks. "I-I just like holding you!"

He was indulging in the fact he no longer had to hide his love and affection for you, carrying his princess in his arms was just another way to show the outside world who you belonged to, despite having passed no people at all. It was more for his own satisfaction.

"There's a cave over there! We can rest there for tonight!" Your voice snapped him from his thoughts. Your finger pointed out to a lake with a waterfall. It was hard to see but there was a small, circular, opening in the rocks of the cliff. "Good find!" He smiled at you as you jumped from his arms and hurried towards the cave, you wanted to make sure it would be safe enough to sleep in tonight. Izuku pouted as you ran off, already missing the warmth your body provided.

He followed you into the cave, it wasn't big

but it was dry and would keep you hidden from the dangers the night brought. "This will do for tonight, from the looks of the clouds over the mountains it's going to rain soon and we don't want to be stuck outside when it does. That would mean more mud." He grinned at you, nudging you with his elbow. You flushed at the jab he made and turned your head away.

What a tease.

You both took off your bags and placed your items down, Izuku went off to collect sticks to make a fire and you began to roll out your sleeping bags. You kicked away all the stones and dirt before placing them down next to each other. You made sure there was enough room for the campfire, you weren't working with a whole lot of space and the last thing you needed was for your beds to catch fire.

You finished your task relatively quickly and decided to walk outside to the lake's edge. There was a small pathway around the water leading to your cave. It was narrow, meaning you both had to shuffle along sideways to get in and out of the cave,

but it also meant the likelihood of others finding or walking into your cave was very slim.

You took your shoes off at the entrance of the cave and sat down, dipping your feet and lower calves into the water. You closed your eyes and leaned back onto your hands, taking in all the sounds of nature. The rusting of tree leaves, the calls of birds singing with each other, the sloshing of the water as you gently kicked your legs.

Izuku found you peacefully becoming one with nature, a smile made its way to his lips. He figured it would be hard for you to adjust to such a big lifestyle change, going from silk sheets and servants tending to your every need to sleeping bags and having to fend for yourself wouldn't be easy for everyone. You certainly struggled with some of it but at times like this, when you were soaking in the sun, and allowing your surroundings to bring you peace he couldn't help but feel pride for you.

You were doing your best to enjoy this new lifestyle, no matter how much of a shock to your system it was.

He left you alone for now and got to setting up the fire, it took about ten minutes to get the fire going, just in time for thunder to roar from over the mountain tops, a cry of war directed to nature.

You walked back into the cave to avoid being caught in it. Izuku handed you some fruit to snack on, he wished he could offer you a nice meal but when travelling, it wasn't that easy.

“Stop pulling that face.” You said as you took the apple from him, and took a bite.

He blinked, looking up to meet your eyes. “W-what?” You frowned, sitting down beside him, the fire crackling before you both as raindrops began to fall from the sky outside. "You keep pulling that face, as though you're afraid you're not doing good enough."

You could read him like an open book. Granted he never tried to hide his feelings from you. He just wanted to make you happy, you must be so used to your lavish lifestyle, but now you're stuck trudging around in mud and living off apples for every meal. He looked down at the ground, his lips parted as he tried to speak but no words came.

"You already know why I left, but allow me to remind you." You flicked his forehead, a way to get him to look back at you. He frowned, rubbing the sore spot on his head. "I left because I want to be with you, no matter where we are. Whether I'm sitting in a palace eating a piping hot meal or in a cave eating an apple. None of that matters to me, what matters is that I have you by my side." Your hand came up to his cheek, the pad of your thumb brushing over his red cheek.

He half smiled at you, there was still some uncertainty despite your words. However, he wouldn’t be Izuku if he wasn't always worrying over all the little details. You chose to be with him, and he was determined to give you the best life possible. Even if he had his worries he always appreciated you trying to reassure him. He was so lucky to have someone like you in his life, someone willing to give up everything for him. He silently vowed to give you the rest of his life in return. He nuzzled into your hand, pressing it closer to his face. “I love you.” he whispered.

“I love you too.” You smiled, brushing some hair from his eyes before moving in as he did to join your lips in a sweet kiss.

What was meant to be a reassuring peck quickly turned into tongues dancing and hands fumbling. A kiss that stole your breath away. Your hands trailed from his cheeks, down his neck to place on his shoulders. He shivered at your feather-like touches that glided across his skin. His hands pulled you forward by your waist bringing you to his chest.

Your head titled as his did, deepening the kiss. You hummed as his tongue traced over your lips, desperate to feel more of you. You parted your lips, getting up on your knees, never breaking the kiss, and shuffling forward until you were close enough to straddle his lap. He felt him smile into the kiss when you sat on him, like he had gotten his way. His skin was already tingling despite the layers of clothes in the way.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at the locks, wordlessly begging for more. He got the hint, his hands pushing under your shirt and taking it off in one movement. His scarred hands began tracing shapes into your back as you began gasping for air. He pulled back from your lips, teeth gently tugging at your lip as he did so.

When you looked into his eyes you saw them burning with desire and that alone was enough to send a pool of heat to your core. He moved forward again, lip connecting to your neck, his hot breath fanned against your skin sending shivers down your spine, a small hum escaping your lips as you pulled his head closer.

He left marks all over your neck and collarbone, sucking and nibbling at your soft skin. He soon trailed down to your chest as he unclasped your bra and moved it aside. His eager lips attached to your breast, and while his mouth began to suck on your sensitive buds, playing and groping with the mounds of fat as his hands rolled your hips forward. A groan echoed through the cave when he felt your clit grinding against his growing erection. You moaned, taking the hint and grinding against him creating a heated friction between you. The way you hugged him closer, begging for more, how your hips desperately rolled forward to feel more of him, it turned him on so much he could feel the blood rushing to his throbbing cock.

He pulled away from your breasts, his hands fumbled with your pants. He did take a second to catch his breath as he pulled your pants off leaving you only in panties. He took a second to admire your body, hands caressing up and down your sides as his eyes drank you in. "Gods… you're so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?" He smiled, pressing a loving peck to your bare shoulder. He was always so sappy, even now when you were grinding against him.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek and yanking on his hair. You were desperate to feel more of him, you needed him. He got the hint and pulled off his own pants, throwing them to the side before taking off his shirt. You looked over his scars, pressing kisses to a few of them.

Once you were both rid of all the clothes that kept you apart, he picked you up bridal style, carrying you over to the fur sleeping bags. He lay you down, coaxing your legs apart so he could get between them, your lips locked again, your naked bodies rubbed together, it felt so much better without the clothes in between. He moaned, getting up onto his knees and fisting his hard cock in his hand.

He gave you an expecting look and you crawled forward. You sat back on your knees when you reached him, looking up at him through your lashes, pupils dilated. He smiled down at you, one hand petting your hair as the tip of his cock traced around your lips. "Open up, princess." He whispered and you obeyed.  

He pushed his hips forward until his ball hit your chin, tears peaking at the corner of your eyes as you swallowed his length, the tip hitting the back of your throat. He wiped them away for you, "Suck on it for me princess." He muttered breathlessly.

Your tongue circled around the tip, the salty taste of pre cum hitting your taste buds. You bobbed your head up and down, impatience  making your actions erratic. He breathed out, eyes sliping close as he marvelled in the feeling of your hot mouth around his aching cock. It took everything in him not to start thrusting forward into your mouth, but he didn't want to hurt you.

You grabbed onto his hips for better leverage, quickening your pace. Saliva began to drip from your mouth, onto your bouncing tits. "Mhh, yeah, just like that baby." You removed one hand from his side and slipped it between your legs, his loud moans and words of praise were too much for you, your ever growing heat needed to be tended to.

Izuku opened his eyes to see where your hand had gone, and upon seeing you pleasuring yourself as you sucked on his member got too overwhelming. His head went back, toes curling as he inhaled a sharp breath. "P-princess i'm going to cum!" he let out a strangle moan, his body curling forward as he released his hot seed into your mouth. He panted as you pulled away, cum covered your lips. Your tongue poked out to lick up every drop as you stared deep into his eyes.

His lips parted at the sight of you greedily lapping up his cum. You smiled at his reaction before laying back down on the sleeping bag. He smiled back, crawling over your body. You were far from done.

He connected his lips back to yours, noses clumsily bumping together, he could taste himself on your tongue, it boosted his ego. Your hips began to rock against his, your slick coating his cock as it slipped between your folds. You sighed into the kiss, grabbing at his hair and neck to pull him closer.

His lips started to trail back down your body, this time going further than your breasts. He kissed his way down your stomach, soon his face was between your legs, he could feel your heat, see your dripping arousal. He licked his lips, squeezing your thigh before diving forward. His tongue pushed inside your hole, lapping up your juices, his nose buried deep into your clit.

You gasped, back arching and toes curling when your aching core finally had some attention. He moaned at your taste, sending vibrations down your spine. Your beautiful noises of pleasure bounced off the walls of the cave. Neither of you had to be quiet anymore, there were no guards, no servants, not even family to be careful of, and he wanted to hear you scream out his name.

"Fuck! p-please. Just fill me up already." You mewled. He looked up at you with a grin, pulling away from you as he licked his lips. You'd never seen such an animalistic look in his eyes. It was like a lion stalking in on his prey.

He got onto his knees, grabbing your hips and pulling your forward. He pressed the tip of his cock to your clit, teasingly rubbing it up and down, slapping it a few times. You whined at his teasing before finally pressing it into your hole.

You simultaneously released low groans. Your hands grabbed at the fabric of the sleeping bags as his fingers dug into your hips. A trapped sigh escaped his lips once he was fully in. He gave you a few seconds to adjust as he put your legs over his shoulders and leaned forward so he could grab and hold one of your hands.

"M-move- fuck~ please!" You moaned. He didn't need to be told twice. He began to pound into you without hesitation. Each thrust of his hips made you whimper and whine, you squeezed his hand as the heat in your core grew.

"Mmh~ you're taking me so well. G-Good girl." He whispered, his hips quickening at the sound of your squelching pussy. He moaned, his cock going sliding into deep. As much as his body wanted to throw his head back he fought to keep it forward. He didn't want to miss a second of your expression. You looked so beautiful, your hair falling around your head like some sort of halo. The way you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back as those blissful, slutty moans left your parted lips.

It was all too perfect.

He took his hand from yours, sitting up and changing the position. He bent you over, ass in the air and your glistening pussy on display for him. He moaned at the sight before slipping back inside of you. His hands clamped down on your waist, pulling you back into him. It was so much faster, harder, you were both screaming out in pleasure at the new position. His cock reached new places.

You rolled your hips against him, eyes rolling back into your head as you desperately grabbed for something to hold onto, fearing that you were already about to come undone around him. You felt his hands rub at your ass cheeks, his eyes admiring how perfectly round and plump they were.

He leaned over your body, chest against your back, one hand holding him up as the other moved around to your swollen clit. He drilled into you as his fingers rubbed circles into your clit. His lips leaving small kisses to your bare shoulder in between his moans.

"Oh.. oh, Y/n~ princess." He panted into your ear. "Are you ready to be filled?" He asked, nuzzling your neck with his nose. His toes were digging into the floor as he felt his throbbing cock ach for release. He wanted to stuff you full of his cum as you screamed out his name.

You nodded, moaning out a string of yes's. You pushed your hips back, keeping up with his lightning speed, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. He closed his eyes, back arching as he felt his hot ropes of cum spill inside of you as you cried out his name, your juices spilling over his hand. Your body curled in on itself as the pleasure washed over you.

He fucked you through your orgasms, only pulling out when his cock had stopped twitching.  

You both collapsed onto the fur. He wasted no time pulling you into his arms, hand moving around to massage your hips as he always did. You did your best to ignore the feeling of his cum slipping out of you and dripping onto your thigh.

With a light kiss to your forehead he pulled you to lay on his chest. "You ok, princess?"

You giggled at his concern. "We've done this so many times now and you still worry about hurting me?" His face flushed red, eyes turning away to look at the pouring rain outside the cave. "I-I would never want to hurt you." He confessed.

You took his face into your hand, turning him to look at you. You pressed a kiss to his lips and lay your head back down. "It was amazing as always. Don't worry."

He nodded, both of you laying in silence for a while as you enjoyed the sounds of nature. The calming sounds of rain showering down from the sky, the cackling of the fire that kept you both warm. It was so peaceful. There were no other people in sight, no guards, royals, townspeople. It was just you two, alone, how you both had always wanted it to be.

"You never told me what your mom said when you told her we were leaving." You turned to face him again, resting your chin on his shoulder. His hand ran through your locks absentmindedly.

"She was happy for us. She said she was glad i was following my heart, that i found someone who loves me enough to give up everything they have just to be with me." He smiled, recalling her reaction. "All she asks is that we come back to visit every now and then, and when we eventually find a good home to settle down in, we have to send her a letter telling her our whereabouts so she can come visit us too."

You smiled, it would be so nice to have her visit your home, to be able to cook for her for once. She always took good care of you whenever you went to visit. You couldn't wait to return the favour. "That sounds nice doesn't it?"

He hummed in agreement, the image of you both living in a cottage, somewhere in the forest. Not too far from civilisation but enough to have your own space. No one to bother you, everyday would be peaceful. You could have spare rooms for guests. Maybe a family and pets someday.

"Yeah, that sounds amazing." He smiled, looking at you. His one and only princess, his first and only love.

He couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

[lady-o-ren]

Sorcha

Part Three

Read the above to get the info on Jamie’s dad in case you missed it.

While Claire had slept in bouts of naps - not used to sleeping at night and drowsy during the day - Jamie had tested himself much like his early days of scrounging around in soil, touching every fern and vine and seed. He sat hunched over on a mossy log holding a piece of rotted twig, rolling it between his hands and focusing his will hoping to ignite a flame. This resulted only in stinging splinters that lodged deep into his palms and for the strip of wood to gain color and curl it's sprouting roots along his wrist.

Jamie had the makings of miniature forest at his feet by the time Claire awakened and found him muttering to himself. She had walked softly behind him just at his shoulder and leaned down to inquire what exactly he was up to. Her warm breath was a question on his neck that startled and shot straight to his fingertips.

The flame caught. Instantly.

"A Dhia!"

The scrap of pine reduced to smoke and cinders in Jamie's hands that spilled to his breeks. Claire was fast to brush away the hot ash off his thigh that lifted in a cloud.

That Jamie felt. Down to every point, of every limb, of every nerve, most notably and horribly on his face.

"Were you trying to singe your features off?" Claire reprimanded with a pointed look, dusting off her hands of soot and completely unaware of the direct cause of his reddened face.

"No." Jamie replied as she sat next to him, giving her his own look hoping it hid his flustered state. "It's only if I'am to see you to yer proper place I must prepare for what that entails."

"I never asked that of you, expected you to go beyond what was decent." That was a lie. Claire hadn't expected him to abandon her once they reached Inbhir Nis. She knew his heart, of his kindness and honor. The boy she always had an affectionate tenderness for would take the world on for whoever was in need and Claire felt a burden to one still so young. "Continuing to bind yourself to me means finding another blood thirsty witch or something far worse."

"I have given ye my devotion since the very first. My star who has been my true north, how can ye doubt me?" Her seemingly lack of faith in him was another thorned coil around Jamie's already wounded heart and Claire resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him and ask forgiveness of the only friend she had ever known. Instead she fixed her gaze to the pile of shrubbery at their feet.

"Jamie, I only meant -" Claire was cutoff by Jamie unsheathing his dirk secured at his waist, clutching the hilt till his knuckles shone white against his ruddy skin.

“I swear by the holy iron that I hold to give ye my fealty and if I ever I should fail ye I ask that this holy iron pierce my heart.” Jamie lowered the dirk, kissed the blade that left a silver tang on his lips before handing it to Claire."I dinna make hollow vows, Sorcha. Now keep it with ye."

"In case you dishonor me?" Claire asked the size of the weighty weapon an awkward fit in her hands. "You think I would really use this on you?"

"No, but then again I saved yer heart from the grips of a witches claw and ye nearly caved my heid in with a rock. Then there was the apple -"

"So I just point and thrust?" Claire gave a practice swipe in the air, then another a bit closer to the man whose lips twitched at the corners and eyes filled with mirth smartly kept in check.

"Quickly, under the ribs at the back and yer wicked fiend will be no more." He instructed and placed his hand gently over hers, valuing his nose. The touch lingered long enough for Claire to bring it to her lap back to the path where their conversation started.

"You've done me great honor already, Jamie. More then anyone ever has, before you ever saw my face or knew my name. But loyalty and trust go both ways. If we must face a threat it will be together and that is my sworn vow to you, James Fraser."

"Finer then scripture, Sorcha."

______

Inbhir Nis Evening

Ned was roused from dreams of water nymphs whispering the secrets of sunken paradises shared in a breathless kiss by a rattling at the door.

With a silly grin plastered on his wrinkled sweet face he rubbed his eyes of sleeps soot, lit a wick with no magical flame to cast him back to bliss and gingerly placed his spectacles from the nightstand to the bridge of his nose.

Modesty suitably robed, he opened the door to a comely chambermaid with word of a friend to see him waiting just below.

Ned, slapped his bones and quickly dressed, nearly tipping over a vase of wilted stems and lighted candlestick, even his own two legs, giddy with relief. The lad was alive. Thank every God, he lived!

______

Ned hurried down the stairs, squinting his eyes no matter the glass that magnified his vision and scanned the dank tavern for -

There he was! Blasted, waves of flaming hair with head on forward and all limbs accounted for, walking towards him, long confident stride and all.

"Ye, sleep above a tavern?" Jamie's smile was wide and full of mirth.

"Madame Jeanne was booked." Ned replied, feigning a suffering sigh.

"A friend of yers?" The younger man innocently asked, head tilted in question.

Any pause at how Ned had sent a literal babe to the dark embrace of woods was left for another, more entertaining day as he hugged the towering lad with a mighty slap on his back that Jamie returned in kind.

"You seem surprised for a man who held such confidence of my triumph." Jamie cocked a brow taking in the man's countenance.

"Well from what you've told me, you two numpties hadn't much of a plan to begin with." A woman's voice chimed from behind the broad back of Jamie.

"Och, pardon my manners," Jamie gripped the smaller man's shoulder and gave it a shake."Mo charaid this is Claire, a woman of great importance."

Ned peered past Jamie to see a woman golden eyed and fair. Her hair was curled and wild as a woodland faerie, garbed in dress of mist that cloaked the moors, dirtied here and there and so foreign to his eyes. When his gaze trailed further down he saw her footing wrapped in cloth, yet for all her rather vagabond state, she hadn't a care as her rosy lips curled bright.

She, of otherworldly perfection.

"Was it you who enchanted this boy? Did he find you sleeping in lakes of twilight or up above the mystic rowans boughs? Are you the reason he still breathes?"

"I come from no waters that flow in lakes or oceans nor from trees of mother divinity. I dwell in a place much higher and greater, I dare say." Claire looked to Jamie, a smile shared between the two as she played along.

Jamie nodded his head over to a familiar table."We should sit and maybe have a bit of drink as well."

___

Jamie told Ned of finding the Ban-druidh through the soundless copse of trees, of sword- not fire - being used for her much deserved demise that had Jamie downing the cool drink at hand. Then the telling moved to a soul stolen away from the shroud of night, whose light was to be forever smothered by the mortal world. A stranded star before them now.

Ned had never been so delighted in all his age. No cup touched his lips. A moment to be remembered clear and whole. However...

"Another candle?" The small man looked rather sick to the two faces that stared back at him. Rather green, Claire mused, as she stirred her finger in the substance, unsure if she should take the plunge and taste what must surely be a bitter liquid.

"Doesna have to be another. Any object or incantation, anything that can aid us will do." Jamie implored to Ned.

"I ken I've asked a great deal from ye but you have traveled more then I, have an understanding of such things that far surpasses my own. You need no' trouble yourself with our plight past any word ye give  at this table."

Ned's brows shot up in offense.

"A kindred spirit I called ye and still consider to be. No matter the protest of these auld bones ye both have me at the ready." Ned raised his cup, sloshing the contents of his own promise of loyalty that the two greatly welcomed.

"Now, I may know a way or at least another with a finer mind then I. He's an odd fellow by the name of Master Raymond. Shorter then I, rather resembled a frog but I warn you, cunning in every word and action for his sole benefit. The issue though is that he lives in Pari-sii." Ned smiled at Claire, La Ville Lumière. This may be serendipitous for us."

"We would have to take sail then." Claire beamed and gripped Jamie's arm, giving it a back and forth tug. "I've never been to the sea, smelled the air of salt nor even - " Claire slightly faltered in realization." Nor even swam. How wonderful it would be." Her face was full of wonder at the possibilities now open to her.

"It's terrible." Jamie moaned running a hand from face to auburn locks at remembering the one time he ventured to Coigach and swam against an unforgiving tide that left him wretching." It's a stench of brined fish that clings to yer skin and nose night and day."

Claire dismissed his lack of enthusiasm and barraged Ned with questions of roving seas and cities far larger then Inbhir Nis packed with people of every walk of life.

"M' dear Claire, are ye sure you want to fly home so soon?" Ned had jested.

"Of course I do." She spoke defensively earning a regarding glance from Jamie. "I don't see why I can't enjoy myself along the way?"

Before her world narrowed to a single point in space that beckoned her and haunted her at night. A feeling of longing that would melt away with sunrise as it kissed her skin and awakened Jamie, a drowsy mornin' gracing his lips.

"Rightly so. The whole world awaits us, but first let us celebrate you and the lads survival with another round." Ned departed with a noticeable bounce to his step that creaked the floor boards beneath.

Claire turned to Jamie his forefinger tapping the rim of his cup.

"What is it? Can the waves be really that abhorrent?" She teased.

"Aye it can and more so, though that's no' what's fully on my mind. It's my mother. I must go home and speak to her of what ye shared with me, especially now that we must take to the sea. A scratch on parchment willna do, I must see her in person and make plans to care for her even if she argues like a banshee that she needs no' assistance." And she will.

"Of course. Go to her, Jamie." She encouraged.

"Arrangements still need to be made for passage to Gaul. I'm sure Ned would'na mind yer company, he might insist on it." Jamie grinned then quickly turned pink. "Or if yer no' tired of me ye could go wi' me to Lallybroch. It's no' much to see in ways of folk or grandeur just the same hills ye've seen before…" He trailed off with a mumbled 'but only if ye like.'

"The same hills you wished were covered in lavender and heather for the flutterbys and bee's to feast upon? How they stretched to the horizon to meet the mountains? If so I would like nothing more." She answered resolutely.

Jamie cleared his throat of every word passed in lonely nights of prayer to her and hoped Ned would hurry on.

"Then it's settled, Sorcha."

With that, Claire finally took a cautious sip and much like the juice of the apple that she had devoured with barely a care for air, she felt her body sing with pleasure. More so. And more so still.

"Good whiskey, aye?" Jamie asked, watching Claire's rapturous enjoyment spread along her face.

"Can we bring this when we leave?"

______

Ned had given Claire his room, which she retired to earlier with a promise of a bath that left her sighing' while Jamie took the smaller one opposite hers. When asked where he would sleep Ned had waved his hands with a cheeky grin, something about a lucky day, and bid him goodnight.

Jamie climbed the long winding stairs, an endless torture to a body eager for bed, and wobbled slightly at the top in decision. Before sense could reach his brain he walked down the hall to a door that he had no key for and knocked.

The door opened wide and Jamie wished he had listened to sense.

Claire wore an oversized robe over a clean white shift. Her porcelain skin, scrubbed clean and fresh, peeked along her neck and legs while her hair was still an intimidating thunder he itched to touch, all framed by a budding fire.

She caught his staring and pulled at the robe as if to curtsy, informing him the clothing had been procured by Ned, ever the gentleman.

"I dinna mean to bother ye." His eyes looking for a distraction that wasn't front and center. "I only meant to tell you I'll be just 'cross the hall if ye need me."

"Stay for a moment longer, please?" Claire pulled at his arm." Nights are still like day for me and the whiskey, however fine, did nothing to aid me."

"Ye ken it wouldna be proper." Claire rolled her eyes of spiced honey or was it burnished gold. Rich, heady whiskey of the night, as they whittled away any notions of propriety.

"We're above a tavern and your friend is currently housed in a bawdy house of joy." She laughed at seeing Jamie's brows arch past his hairline. "We've slept next to each other these past few days what's another hour."

Letting out a breathy exhale as an answer, Claire plopped down and padded the space next to her on the soft feather bed. Jamie joined her stiff as an aldur, his weight sinking the bed, rolling Claire into his shoulder and in response she twined her arm with his. Natural and innocent as his cheetie Adso when he'd curl in his lap dozy from milk, but a deepening intimacy all the same and he sank further into the sheets, breath a little more shallow.

"Shall I tell ye a story to droop yer eyes? Or maybe a healthy debate of who Thistle is more fond of?"

"There's no debate, Thistle is in love with me and we plan on going off into the sunset together." Claire chuckled into his sleeve, enjoying the warmth of him that put the hearth to shame.

"So story is it? What could I say to a star who has seen all. Ye surely ken all the sonnets, every myth before it became so, every hero when they were but a bairn." Jamie tipped his head back to the headboard, staring at a crack in the ceiling that resembled the crest of hills of home.

"We stars aren't voyeurs and your world isn't the only one of interest."

Jamie quirked his head up, full of curiosity. "Do folk walk on their hands and speak in clicks and whistles or do they soar free, gilded in feathers like proper popinjays?" Claire thumbed the cuff of his sleeve, grimed and fraying at the edges.

"More like vast stretches of empty plains and mountainous glaciers of numbing blue that cover the whole of planets and moons. Skies of smoky embers, others of gaseous smog, dense and stormy. It's beautiful, quiet, souless with no one to live and thrive there." Her voice was somber and far away as she spoke, drawing shapes and curves on his still splintered palm, lost in vibrance of hues and places that he could never see. That she may never see again.

"What must ye think of us lowly lot compared to infinity." Jamie's low timbre shook her out of reverie. He captured her idle fingers threading them with his, bringing her to the present.

"You lowly lot have an unrivaled beauty all your own. Even if you tend to ruin yourselves more often then not."

"Did ye look upon me, past the nights I spoke wi' ye?" He whispered.

"Only when you called." She untangled herself away from him and propped up against her hand, springing back to humor. "And the few times you asked for the strength of twenty men to best those horrid boys who harassed you."

"Was that you then?" Jamie turned and mirrored her frame, blue eyes shining at the memory of giving Rabbie and his brothers more of a bloody brawl then a scuffle.

"Sadly, no. I can't grant harm, death or love and you wanted to break their arms and fling them over the mountain tops. I couldn't make it true no matter if the brutes deserved it." Claire tucked a tawny lock behind her ear and coyly added," However, I had to peek to see if you prevailed or not."

"Aye, and what did ye think? Did I entertain ye?" He asked.

"You walloped them splendidly." Claire giggled falling back into the bed. Jamie was pleased at that. Smug, the more Claire laughed till her face stained of wine.

The soft crackle and hiss of fire filled the air as laughter died down, a pleasant peace. Claire looked to the squiggled line overhead that reminded her of aquarius and a question was brought forward.

"There is one thing unknown to me, to all of us, that I've always been curious about?"

"Aye?"

"How did your mother and father meet?"

"Ye dinna ken?"

"Your father kept what he was doing from prying eyes. Set every God and star in panic that he was in rebellion and bent on chaos." Claire shuddered at the memory.

"It wasna like that." Jamie shook his head." He only wanted a kiss from his beloved, no other request he asked of her and she agreed, completely smitten by a man of fire. "He could hear his mother's voice consumed with love in countless retellings." Their souls became one, lived a lifetime of happiness, sorrow and love in that kiss. Tis why she accepted his gift, a ray of their flaming hearts. Me." He scoffed unconvincingly, even to his own ears.

Claire's hand echoed their first meeting and caressed him from temple to cheek. Jame leaned into her touch and held it in place, seeking her strength as he always did.

A raucous chorus from down the hallway had them jumping away from one another in a fluster and Jamie took it as a sign. He left the bed, strode to the the door, boots heavy and hard against the floor, when her voice broke his stride.

"Jamie, out of all the others, why on me did you call?"

He paused before turning to her, his eyes catching the glare of the hearth enriching them to a fierce blue.

"You were nestled between Sirius and Canopus, they burned like white fire, loud and obnoxious but you - you had a gentle glow about ye like a halo. I thought ye heavenly and maybe a friend who would listen," he smiled. "And ye did."

"Sweet dreams Prìseil Sorcha." Jamie made a small bow of his head and softly closed the door.

Claire pressed her palms to her heated cheeks, fingertips brushing against dampen lashes as she turned back to the bed where they had just laid side by side, when her eyes caught the blue vase of wilted flowers. The stalks were vibrant green and tall. The flowers were overgrown with bloom shaded in sapphires, rubies and amethysts. Claire traced their petals of silk, every stroke gaining traction in her heart mingling with his words of…

She became illuminated, a loving glow that grew brighter and brighter with every thrum of a heart beating stronger and stronger.

A/N:

* Parisii is the ancient name for Paris

* The first woman was thought to come from a Rowan tree in norse mythology hence mother divinity. First man, ash tree.

Thank you to everyone who reads and supports this story!!

Also, how do you do the keep reading thing? It never links back to the proper chapter.

[sunriseoverastorea]

Kind Strangers

♬ Jeremy Soule - In the Forests of Tamriel

Morning dawns too early. The hard wooden floor aches against her festering burns, but she pushes herself up, breathing heavily from the effort, and blinks bleary, crusty eyes into the darkened room. The fire has gone out, completely extinguished, and the light from the windows adds little shape and form at this hour. Silence sits heavy in the cottage, weighing down the boughs of herbs hung from the ceiling, a basket heaped with clothing by the back door, her fallen apple from the night before where it sits beneath the table, forgotten, browning.

She listens for the sound of breathing. Instead, the rustle of grass answers her question.

Lurching to her feet, the shadowy room spins around her, and she nearly falls against the door as she rushes towards it, throwing it open and racing after her captives. Under normal circumstances, she could easily catch up—Maegan moves swiftly despite her hefty skirts, perhaps twenty paces away, but Tomas slows her down. She pulls him along by the hand, until she hears the bang of the front door, and then she picks the boy up and runs, feet crunching in the frosty grass.

Marea slips and slides in the dampness, pain blinding her, vision peppered with shifting splotches of black as she fights to keep up. Agonizing minutes seem to pass by, but in fact, it is only a few seconds—she flings herself at Maegan, latching onto the back of her shirt, and they both collapse to the ground, Tomas flung aside as the women grapple for dominance, briefly rolling about before Marea's prosthetics take control, forcing Maegan down by the shoulders with her steely grip.

“Thought I said I didn't wanna kill you,” Marea pants, smiling thinly, eyes wide and wild.

“You think I'm a fool? You always planned on killing us. I could see it in your face. You're a madwoman,” Maegan hisses, snarling even as she stares death in the eye. “You're a monster.”

“No news to me.” Marea shrugs slightly, shifting her right hand to Maegan's throat, and lifting her left in the air, flexing the fingers stiffly before settling them into a tight fist. “But if what you say is true, this is a whole new world, a fresh start, and I can be whatever I want to be. So thanks for nothing.”

With one swing of her left arm, Maegan's face is splattered in the dewy dawn grass.

Marea's heart leaps into her throat as a single crack of thunder rings out in the clearing. A bullet whizzes past her, flying uselessly into the distance, and she slowly raises her hands in the air, turning to face Tomas as she gets to her feet. The little boy stands ten feet away, trembling, tears glistening on his cheeks, Marea's pistol held aloft in his hands.

“Oh, c'mon. Put it down,” Marea says softly, trying to sound comforting, though her voice wavers from exhaustion. “You won't wanna live with yourself after you do that. I killed somebody when I was your age. Hard to cope with.”

The boy begins to bawl, sobbing without restraint, face screwed up in a terrible expression of desolation. Marea takes a few steps towards him, hands tentatively outstretched for the gun, when a shot rings out yet again. It dents and dings off her left arm, and she throws caution to the wind, charging forward as Tomas fires off one last bullet, which connects—it embeds itself in her thigh, and she yelps and collapses in pain, right on top of him, wrenching the gun from his hands with ease and shoving it down his throat. She pulls the trigger, and it clicks. Empty.

A quick, clear snap echoes in the clearing, like a sapling tree felled in the cold of winter. She gets to her feet, and she limps back to the cottage, windows dark and gaping. With the iron sky above her, stars faded but sun not yet risen, she feels a strange, sudden closeness around her. Similar to her connection with magic in Tyria—but certainly not the same. Only one word comes to mind, but she knows that it is just longing, for familiarity, for certainty, a longing which she has never felt before, and she knows she will soon forget.

“Grenth,” she says into the cool, lifeless air. “If you can hear me—don't let my journey be like this.”

And she opens the door to the cottage, slipping behind stone walls.

The time before sunrise is a checklist. She ventures upstairs, where the sleeping quarters are. The Ferny's had fine furniture, for peasants, and she goes through an ornate wooden wardrobe, searching for clothes that will fit her. Maegan's stockings and a long blouse with flouncy sleeves will do, then she takes a thin summer skirt and rips a slit straight up the side, making it mobile. She slips on the woman's spare boots, old and worn, a bit too big, and then she whimpers in pain as she climbs on the bed to reach the sword that hangs above it. She yanks the weapon from its fastenings on the wall, inspecting it briefly. Blade dull but highly ornamented, with swirling vines adorned by grapes, and a hefty hilt with an elegant guard. An heirloom, most likely, that could be easily sharpened into fighting shape again.

In a large chest at the foot of the bed, she finds books. She flips through the pages, covered in foreign lettering, beautiful to behold but still utter nonsense, much like the accents of the people who wrote them. She takes the smallest downstairs with her, some entertainment for the road.

She picks up her apple from beneath the table and chomps away at the mushy flesh. Out behind the cottage, she goes to the small stables and throws the gates open, setting loose goats and pigs and a couple cows, along with one strange animal that almost fills her with joy, only to steal it away so cruelly. It hobbles out last, slightly too fat and making a ridiculous honking sound. At a glance, it appears to be a small horse—a pony, she recalls, is the word—but its legs are much too stout, and its face too round and homely. It brays at her loudly, trying to rub its snout against her own, and she clumsily pivots and strides away with a groan, rolling her eyes.

“You're a fucking liar, y'know that? You're a lying—thing. Heehaw. Lying Heehaw.”

As the sunrise fills the sky with verdant amber light, turning wisps of clouds blue and making the dewy grass glitter, Marea drags two bodies back to the cottage, depositing them in the kitchen with little thought for staging their deaths. Maegan would have had to bang her face against the wall with the force of an airship to mangle it the way Marea's hand did.

And as the beginnings of blue glow upon the horizon, Marea limps through the forest, and emerges in the quiet, green clearing where she arrived. She rummages through the debris thoroughly. She digs a small hole with a piece of scrap metal, and into it goes most of what remains, which she cannot carry—a few books, charred but intact. Her kitty pistol, partially melted. A bag of jerky, just in case. Then she lodges the piece of sheet metal over them, like a protective cover, Horiz staring up at her in the dirt. And she brushes leaves over the grave.

She returns to the homestead as sun floods the fields, a fine mist rising from them and soothing her aching, tormented flesh. The Heehaw honks at her, and now she obligingly goes to it, just barely heaving herself onto its back. The bullet in her thigh pulses with pain, and as she settles into place, the weight finally off her legs, she sighs in relief.

She isn't sure how to steer the Heehaw, but it seems to know where she wants to go. It immediately starts north, and after less than an hour, it clomps onto a middling dirt road, smooth and well-traveled, though on this day, it's as empty as the stone cottage she leaves behind. A sense of peace overcomes her. The sun warm on her neck. In her backpack, a book, Gippa's notes, a handful of jerky, her eye piece, her M pistol and the bullets she rescued from her kitty gun, all sit heavily upon her burned shoulders. The Ferny family sword bumps against her hip, hung from Frank Ferny's ill-fitting belt.

And the Heehaw clops onward, into uncertain lands. She watches the trees for a while, their long arms lacing overhead. Until, after a time, she closes her eyes, and she slumps forward onto the head of her mount, arms swaying in time with its steps.

Physician Telford saw little excitement in his little town of Archet. Most of his days were spent idle in the doorway to his practice, chatting with Hosta, a fine and charming housewife who sold baked sweets in the next building over. She would lean out her window, waving her hand and asking if he wanted a slice of fresh apple pie. And of course he did, for what else was he to do? Treat the occasional spider bite? Admittedly, the spiders in the area were monstrously huge, but at least they did not rend and maim as creatures in faraway lands did.

So, Hosta would bring him a slice of pie, and they would pick over it together on his porch. She would sit upon the water barrel to be at eye level with him, and they'd have a good chat, about husbands and wives, humans and hobbits, the state of the town and the surrounding estates. And then they would part, and Telford would watch from his shopfront as the sun sank lower in the sky, and yet another day of contentment passed by him.

But today, as he goes outside and waits for Hosta to wave from her window, he turns the other way in surprise, wide-eyed, as he watches the little lady and a handful of men leading a donkey down the street, with the petite shape of a person slumped upon it.

“What is this? An injured traveler?” he exclaims, jogging down the lane to meet them.

“Yes Mr. Telford, so it seems. She's a woman, wee small thing, and in terrible shape.” Hosta reaches up and pats the woman's leg, recoiling as her hand comes away damp with blood that has soaked through the stranger's stockings. “Bill here says she's been badly burned, and her skin is all clammy. Reckon she needs your immediate attention.”

“Of course, right away!” Telford stays a step ahead of the men as they lift the woman off her donkey, and carry her through the low doorway into the physician's shop. He darts around frenetically, wringing his hands, eager to help and overwhelmed that his help is truly needed.

He watches attentively as the woman is laid on the patient bed, and then he shoos the others away with a waving of his hands. “Out, out, this requires my full attention. Hosta, however, can stay. As my assistant.”

“I certainly can,” the woman says proudly, not at all ashamed with her own morbid fascination for the unconscious body in the room. She shuffles up to the bedside, resting her elbows on the mattress as she stares at the strange woman's face.

“Looks like she's been through a lot in the past, even before this. Poor little thing, women should not be made into fighters, I always say. There's enough men to do it themselves.”

“Yes, well, some women simply want to fight,” Telford replies absently, fishing supplies from a series of cupboards along the wall, and then sweeping over to his patient, carefully shifting the fabric of her skirt, and then her stockings, until her harrowed flesh is exposed to the air. Hosta gags a bit, but doesn't look away.

“What do you think happened to her?” the halfling gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. “Did she fall into a bonfire?”

“That, and more. She seems to have some sort of puncture wound as well, and that's only the legs. No doubt there will be more to come—perhaps I should not have asked you to stay.”

“No, I can handle it. I'll keep my mouth shut, if need be.”

“Thank you,” Telford replies with a gentle smile, reaching up to the woman's neck and examining an utterly destroyed piece of black cloth that hangs there, more of a frayed, singed rag than a bandana. “Later, when this is taken care of, we can eat a whole pie. And we'll share it with the girl, too.”

Later comes after many hours. Marea opens her eyes, blurry at first. A low, wooden-beamed ceiling comes into focus, and she glances to her left, across the room, where a window, made hazy by bubbled glass, lets the festive warmth of a sunset stretch upon the floor and flow over her pillow. She distinguishes two chattering shapes sitting on stools by that window. They speak in hushed voices, one quite a familiar form, a man of average build, perhaps a tad short. He towers over the silhouette across from him, with the long curly hair of a woman, and a much stouter stature. The height of an asura, maybe, with feet like a platypus's, and a covered bundle on her lap.

Marea abruptly sits up, gritting her teeth and ignoring the flaring of pain in her shoulders and back.

“Oh no, no no no! Not so fast, my dear!” exclaims the asura-sized shape, quickly hopping down from her stool and rushing over to Marea. “Be gentle with yourself, you have been gravely injured in most unusual ways.”

Marea stares at the little woman for a long moment, incessant dotage rising and falling in the background without ever being heard. Finally, as the man comes up beside the bed and rests his hand against her forehead, Marea speaks.

“You're a dwarf.”

The woman immediately goes silent, for quite a long moment, before bursting into laughter, throwing her head back and slapping the man's knee.

“Oh, did you catch that, Telford? No brain damage there, still got her sense of humor!”

“My sense of—what?”

“Just ignore her,” Telford interjects, nudging his companion aside as he stoops down beside Marea's bed. He reaches for her wrist, before catching himself, and placing his fingers to a pulse point on her neck instead. “Hosta is a dear friend of mine. But perhaps not the best bedside manner.”

Marea blinks at him, at the warm touch of his hands on her patch of unburned skin. She looks down at herself, wrapped to the waist in clean white sheets, and the rest of her torso wrapped in bandages. Her prosthetics are out in the open, and the doctor seems not to care.

“You—understand me?” Even as she asks, she feels the round, elegant slant of the words on her tongue. Rajya always said she was a fast learner, a gift for language, when she applied herself.

Telford raises his brows, tilting his head this way and that. “More or less. You certainly sound like nothing I've ever heard before. Are you some adventurer, then? And tell me, when I knock on this side of your head, how does it feel?”

“It kinda hurts—”

“—The south! I bet you come from the south, on those fabled shores,” interjects Hosta, curls bobbing as she yammers on, “We never see anyone from that far away, all the way up here. But you look like sea-faring stock.”

“...Yeah. I'm from the south,” Marea says flatly, flinching as Telford proceeds to knock on the other side of her head. “If that's, that's what you said.”

“Perhaps you could talk a bit slower for our patient, Hosta,” Telford chides, beckoning her back to the bedside. “We must sound as odd to her as she does to us.”

“Very well, very well. Pie time?” The stout woman quickly unwraps the bundle she carries, revealing a blueberry pie, already sliced and still faintly warm from the oven. Acting without thinking, Marea immediately reaches over and grabs a handful right out of the middle, and shoves it in her mouth, smearing dark juice all around her lips. Hosta cackles with delight, though she produces a fork from the pocket of her apron and eats in a more tidy manner, while Telford gazes at the motion of Marea's prosthetics, captivated.

“Well,” the doctor starts, tearing his gaze away and sweeping up a little bite of pie with his finger, “I suppose you would like to know your condition. You arrived around noon on the back of a donkey, unconscious, and--”

“--A donkey?” Marea blurts out. “A suitably stupid name.”

“It was a donkey, yes. Anyway, we took you in and treated you for several hours, throughout the afternoon. You have severe burns all over your legs, and on your back and the back of your neck, as you most likely realized. It will take weeks, if not months, for them to fully heal, but you will be scarred for life.” He pauses, as if waiting for the waterworks, but Marea just shrugs, grabbing another handful of pie.

“Shoulda seen my old scars. Won't be that different,” she says dismissively.

“Mm, you have high spirits. A good sign. You also have a deep gash upon your forehead, which seems to have missed vital areas, but we will need to keep you awake for twenty-four hours to be sure that you remain amongst the living. I also treated several minor cuts across your person. Your final ailment, though—I've never seen anything quite like it.”

Marea stares at him, munching away noisily, waiting for the inevitable questions she must dodge.

“The puncture wound on your thigh—it was made by this small metal projectile.” He pulls the bullet from the pocket of his tunic, and holds it out for her to see. “My first thought was that it came from a slingshot, but truly, there is no way it could have buried itself so deep if that were the case. So I must ask, do you know what it is?”

Marea widens her eyes and shakes her head, a picture of perfect innocence. “Not a clue. I had something in my leg? I had no idea, I thought I was just crispy and tender.”

Hosta chuckles and shakes her head, popping a bite of pie in her small mouth. “Crispy and tender, oh good grief. You sound funny and you make funny, too.”

Telford sighs, placing the bullet in his pocket and patting it for safekeeping. “As I feared. You know, Hosta, the bard did bring tales of strange things along the North-South Road. What do you think? Do you recall any metal projectiles?”

Hosta shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “No, only strange hooded things, screeching in the night, the stuff that spooks children. That old man is always full of nonsense. It's not fair that all we get is a washed-up harpist, while my cousins in Hobbiton get regular visits from the wizard with the fireworks.”

“Wizard?” Marea cuts in, her face lighting up as she licks the last bit of crumbly pie from her fingers. “Like, a guy who does magic?”

“Of course, what else would a wizard be? He has a very long beard, I've heard, so you know he's legitimate.”

Telford shakes his head, tut-tutting under his breath. “I say he can keep his fireworks. We live in a modern age, an age of science, Hosta. Better to keep such whimsy and superstition at arms length. Leave it to the elves, who we rarely have to see.”

Marea mouths the word silently, elves.

“Anyway,” Telford begins again, rising to his feet. “I imagine you must be tired, Miss—forgive me, all this time, I did not think to ask your name.”

“Marea,” she says, opening her mouth to add Sleekfur, but she holds it back. Uncertain how it might be perceived.

“Marea. Quite a lovely name. You must be tired, but since you cannot sleep yet, I will send Hosta on her way, and keep you awake myself.”

“Ohhh, Telford!” the little woman whines dramatically, though she smiles broadly, already shuffling to the door. “I will be by in the morning to check on you, little one,” she chimes to Marea, waving as she slips out into the street.

“Little one,” Marea murmurs, shoulders slumping.

“She likes to call humans that,” Telford explains, pulling his stool over to the bedside, and perching upon it. “Now, what would you like to discuss, to keep you awake?”

Marea taps her chin slowly, licking her chapped lips, the remnants of blueberry flavor making her mouth water. “I'd rather just listen, actually. I have a book. Can you read it to me? Good practice, for the accent, thing,” she adds, pulling on her earlobes.

“It would be my pleasure,” the doctor replies, a warm, genuine smile crinkling his face. A face that could belong to any man, anywhere, yet somehow, in this one, she senses true kindness.

[animeandbookfanatic-blog]

Hidden: Chapter 1

Hidden: Chapter 1

Summary

Viola Silva always believed she was just like everyone else, until she learns of the secret her family has kept from her since her birth. One day, she's suddenly snatched from the world she's known her whole life and thrown into a completely different one. Will Viola be able to handle magic, monsters, things beyond belief, and the danger that follows?

Chapter One

“Come on girls! You can do it, almost there!” the coach called, timer and clipboard in hand. Coach Sims was as driven as any track and field coach, insisting that they run the mile as a team after every practice to give them the team spirit they lacked.

The two girls at the front of the pack proved just how much team spirit the girls track team lacked. Running side by side, elbows jabbing into rib cages as they tried to shove each other out of the way. The two tumbled at the finish line, rolling clumsily as the runners behind leapt over them in order not to trample the girls.

Viola got to her feet first, fuming, and turned on her rival, “What do you think you were doing?? You cheated!”

The other girl, a tall blonde with brown eyes, got to her feet and glared at her, “I cheated?? You cheated first!”

“Viola, Chloe, you both cheated, now go home. Practice is over for today,” Coach Sims shouted at the girls.

Viola smiled and ran across the field to get her bag, Chloe following behind her. She threw herself on the ground to change out of her track spikes, “Wanna come to my place?” Viola asked.

She shook her head, “No, I can’t today, I’ve got to study. I can walk halfway with you though.” She offered a hand to her.

“That’s too bad, my brother is coming for a visit this weekend.” She slapped her hand into Chloe’s and hauled herself off the ground.

“How long has it been since he’s been home??”

Viola thought for a moment. Cedar was always busy with something and was hardly ever home, only showing up for holidays lately, “About six months, I think?”

Chloe tapped her chin, “So I wonder what keeps him away so much? Does he have a secret family somewhere else?? Maybe something your parents wouldn’t approve of?”

She wrinkled her nose, “I doubt that, he’s a teacher, nothing scandalous about that.”

The girls walked together until they came to the fork that split the roads to each of their houses. Viola waved to her friend and track team rival before jogging down the block toward her house.

Not only being her rival at track, Chloe had been Viola’s closest and only true friend since the two of them were in kindergarten together. Hitting it off was a given, since the girls were both competitive and imaginative, it helped that they were interested in the same type of books. Anything otherworldly seemed to draw the two of them in; as children, both girls enjoyed exploring the forest around their homes, searching for fairies and pixies and anything else from their dreams.

Once at her house, Viola noticed a familiar face watching her from the trees. A red fox stood watching her approach. She was shy but she always poked her head out to greet Viola when she returned home.

She quickly checked the house to be sure her parents hadn’t seen her furry visitor. Their cars weren’t in the drive meaning they were either picking her brother up, or still at work.

With a grin, she ran inside and heated up some leftover chicken from the night before. Then she took the food outside and placed it at the edge of the yard. She didn’t know what foxes ate but this one never seemed to have any complaints about the leftovers Viola gave her every now and again.

She sat on the ground about twenty feet away from the fox so she wouldn’t spook her. Her mother’s cat, Sphinx, sauntered over beside her and plopped down lazily beside Viola, staring at visitor.

Viola sighed and stroked the large sandy cat’s head, “Be nice, Sphinxy,” she warned.

The cat only responded with a yawn and began purring as she stretched out beside her on the dead leaves of autumn.  

She watched as the fox slowly crept up to the plate of chicken, her yellow eyes never leaving Viola and Sphinx. Once she was close enough to snatch the chicken and run like she normally did, she just stood staring at Viola instead, foregoing her meal for the time being.

Suddenly, she stepped over the plate, until she was slowly approaching her, one tentative step at a time. Her eyes never left Viola’s, as if she were trying to tell her something.

Sphinx sat up enough to watch the fox, her tail flickered a bit but she just yawned and closed her eyes lazily. Viola wondered if she should run. What if she meant to harm her? She didn’t think she was a threat to either her or Sphinx, though she wasn’t sure why.

Viola slowly, and carefully held her hand out to the red canine. When she was close enough, the fox sniffed the tips of her fingers before hesitantly bowing her head, the way Sphinx did when she was allowing someone to touch her.

She stared at her for a moment but as soon as the tips of her fingers touched the soft red fur, a car door slammed and the fox bolted back into the forest, only stopping long enough to snatch up her meal.

Sphinx stared up at Viola for a moment before yawning again and getting to her feet. She padded to the back door, pausing to look back at Viola as if waiting for her to follow.

Viola sighed, disappointed that her furry friend ran and still reeling from the experience. Maybe the fox trusted her because she fed her occasionally. She hoped she’d see her again soon.

She got to her feet and trudged to the door, opening it for the cat and then following her inside after brushing the crunched up leaves from the both of them.

“Mom? Dad? Vi? Anyone home?”

Viola stretched, “I’m home, Cedar. Mom and Dad haven’t gotten back yet.” She grabbed an apple from the fridge before hopping up on the counter.

Cedar poked his head into the kitchen and grinned at her, “Hey little sis, were you just outside?” His brown hair hanging in his eyes.

She nodded, “Yeah, how’d you know?”

He pointed at her shirt, “There’s a leaf dangling from your t-shirt.”

She glanced down and quickly brushed it off, “Anyway, how’s work?? Anything interesting happen while you were gone? I want to hear all about it!”

“I’m just a teacher, what do you expect to happen?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know? Runaway students, fights that you have to break up, mouthy kids, pranks? The school blew up? Anything?”

He shook his head as he set his bags down, “All my students are angels compared to you, Viola.” He ruffled her hair, “Go get cleaned up, I’m taking you out to dinner tonight.”

“What about Mom and Dad?”

“They’re not here, besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve treated my little sister to dinner. Now, go change. You’re all sweaty and gross,” he teased, gently shoving her off the counter and toward the hallway.

Viola laughed as she headed up the stairs, “Your personality is getting worse ``every time I see you--.”

~~~

Viola sipped her drink, “So what have you been up to all this time?”

Cedar shrugged, slathering cinnamon butter on his fourth roll before taking a bite from it, “Not much, really. I told you, I’m just a teacher.”

“Well, you’ve been up to something if you’ve been too busy to call.”

He gave her an impatient look, “I’ve been busy, that’s all.”

“With a girlfriend?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow. “Afraid to introduce her to mom and dad or something?”

“No girlfriend, Viola.” He sighed, “I didn’t bring you here for an interrogation.”

She frowned at him and shrugged. “Fine,” she said as she took a bite from her buttered roll.

“Do you?” he asked suddenly.

She glanced up at him, “Do I have a girlfriend? Nope, but I have loads of boyfriends.”

Cedar blanched and shook his head, “I’m just going to pray that that was a joke. I can’t handle you dating.” He sighed, “Anyway, how’s school going for you? Track?”

Viola shrugged, “It’s the usual, I guess? Track is more fun than actual school and I’m keeping my grades up.”

“Oh, so nothing interesting? Nothing cool?” he asked in a mocking tone, grinning at her.

She kicked him under the table, “Hey, I have more of a life than you do, all you do is teach!” she protested.

Cedar winced, laughing, “Oh, what else do you do besides run and study?”

She thought for a moment, “I read and I hang out with Chloe and um… Oh! I have a fox that follows me around!”

He looked up from the roll in his hand, knife pausing mid-cut, “A fox follows you around?”

“Yeah, but I feed her sometimes so I think she just associates me with a free meal,” Viola said shrugging her shoulders.“What of it?”

He shook his head, “It’s just weird. How long has it been following you?”

“Just a couple months now. It’s not exactly following me but watching me from the forest.” Viola watched him, “What’s this all about anyway?” It wasn’t like him to ask her so many questions on something so innocent. Her parents would tell her not to feed wild animals but Cedar usually understood these things, she’d even caught him feeding a falcon once when he a kid.

Cedar shook his head, “Nothing, it’s fine.” He smiled and then glanced around the restaurant.

Viola followed his gaze, the place was the same as it had always been, bright as sunlight filtered in through the huge windows onto perfectly polished wooden tables, the carpet's busy but nice pattern surprisingly free from signs of the traffic of years, each table set with a tiny metal rack of shakers, holding tri-fold laminated menus. She remembered coloring little pictures on them before they were laminated--probably why they were laminated in the first place. Actually, she wondered if there were still any with her little smileys or her name scrawled across it, or even the little crayon doodles of what she thought of her brother when he stole her fries floating around the restaurant.

“I wonder how this place has never changed?” Cedar asked suddenly.

She looked up at him, “What do you mean?”  

“They’ve always managed to have the place the exact way it looked when it opened when we were kids. Except for maybe a few changes.”

Viola shrugged as she looked up at him. She could tell he was just trying to change the subject and that something else was on his mind, he was trying to be too nonchalant. She’d learn to tell that his normally bright blue eyes were more gray when he was worried or concerned about something.

Usually she envied her brother’s eyes and hair. He’d inherited their father’s brown hair and mother’s blue eyes while she got their mother’s red hair and the green eyes of their father. The red hair made her stand out in a crowd. She felt like she was picked out of a crowd at school, in fact that was how her friends found her.

“So what brings you home so suddenly? You usually only come home for holidays and stuff like that? Is something going on?” She asked as she bit the end of a fry.

He eyed her for a moment, “I’m just here to get mom and dad’s help on something.”

“Like money or something?”

He shook his head, “No, someone suggested that I should check some things here. I thought I’d talk to mom and dad about it first, though.”

“Some things? Like me? Who told you to check on me, Cedar?” she said, frowning at him.

“Just a little birdie, don’t be so upset, Vi,” he said with a laugh.

She shook her head, “Mom and Dad worry too much, I haven’t done anything--I think.”

He laughed again, “No, but I don’t think I see you often enough. I’m thinking maybe we should spend some more time together. Brother sister bonding, you know?” he asked as the check was brought to the table.

“But you’re always across the country, how could we do that?”

“We’ll cram as much as we can into the short time that I’m here for then!” He looked at her, “When do you go back to school?”

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Under the Apple Tree--chapter 7

Ship:  Outlaw Queen

Rating: T

Synopsis: After being hit by the Olympian Crystal, Robin was transported to Seattle, unable to return to Storybrooke or any magical. When it was clear he had no way to return to his family, Robin finally decided to bury his broken heart in work–founding a landscaping business, Sherwood Forestry.  Fifteen years later, Robin receives an order from the last person he ever thought he’d see again, making him realize that hope never truly dies.

Previous: Chapter 1  Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6

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Rayna punched her pillow, turned over and determinedly closed her eyes.  What was up with her lately?  She’d never had trouble with insomnia before, but lately…lately she just couldn’t sleep.

She had this nagging feeling that there was something she’d forgotten, something important, something vital.  Something was hovering just out of her consciousness, but she couldn’t reach it.  She knew instinctively that if she could just remember, everything would make sense.  She’d know exactly what she needed to do.

Talk it over with Robin.

Rayna rolled her eyes at her subconscious.  Oh yes, that was a brilliant idea!  She’d just call her landscaper and say “Hi, so there’s something I can’t remember and it’s really important and I thought you could help me with it because…I don’t know.  But maybe if you came by and we talked it through…and maybe if you brought Henry and Lucy with you…maybe suddenly my life would make sense again.” She was sure that would go over really, really well.

Robin would probably cart her off to the mental hospital.

After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, Rayna sat up with a growl.  She ran her hands through her hair, and then glanced over at the clock on her nightstand with its numbers glowing a bright red, mocking her. 3:13 am.

With a groan, Rayna pushed back the covers, stepped into her slippers and tossed on her bathrobe.  She clearly wasn’t getting any sleep tonight, and forcing herself to lie in her bed was just making her more and more frustrated. She stayed there much longer, she’d start throwing fireballs.

Um…what?

Where had that thought come from?  She looked down at her hands, cupped, palms up.  She could almost feel the energy of holding fireballs within them.

Rayna shook her head. Forget Robin, if she didn’t get it together soon, she might just cart herself off to the mental hospital.

Maybe a nice cup of cocoa would settle her fevered mind and let her actually get a little sleep. Moving as silently as she could, so as to avoid waking James, she pulled out a saucepan, poured in a generous helping of milk and let it simmer before adding cocoa and sugar.

The act of cooking, even something as simple as a cup of hot cocoa soothed her.  There was just something about taking raw ingredients, putting them together and transforming them into something else entirely that gave her such satisfaction.

It was like magic.

Rayna ladled a generous portion of the smooth, rich liquid into her favorite mug, topped it with a little whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon.  (She had no idea where the idea for cinnamon came from.  She’d never taken her cocoa that way before, but tonight….tonight it just felt right.  There it was again, another half formed thought, half formed memory.  In her mind’s eye she saw a woman with short, dark hair and green eyes.  Someone she’d had a complicated relationship with…

Rayna closed her eyes willing the memories to keep coming.  Hoping the mental picture of this woman would spark something.

But slowly the image faded, and with it whatever memories she’d almost dredged up.

Rayna banged her mug down on the kitchen table with another growl, and a drop of liquid splashed from its interior onto the smooth wooden surface of the table, drawing Rayna’s eyes to the storybook Lucy had left with her.

Curious, Rayna picked up the thin volume and began paging through.  She looked intently at the photograph on the first page, clearly a family dinner. There was something so achingly, infuriatingly familiar about all of these people.  She looked each of them over carefully until she came to a dark haired woman seated next to a teenaged boy.  Rayna’s eyes widened.  That woman looked just like her.

Not only did it look like her, but she remembered that haircut, remembered the dress the woman was wearing.  This was either a photo of her, or she had a secret identical twin that made the exact same fashion choices.

How could Lucy have a photo of her from a large family dinner she’d never attended?

Read the book, the voice inside her insisted.  It will help you find the answers you need.

Rayna had no idea how a little girl’s hand-copied fairytale book could give her the answers to the big questions in her life, but it was 3:30 in the morning, and she had nothing else to occupy herself.  Slowly she turned the page.

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Henry Mills had always wanted to be a hero.  He’d wanted to fight dragons, defeat villains, save the day, see the world.  But he’d never gotten the chance.  He loved his parents and his grandparents and the whole town full of former fairy tale characters who’d adopted him as their own, but they’d always looked at him as a child who needed protecting.

And so it was when Henry turned 18 and graduated from Storybrooke High, he decided to go on an adventure of his own.  It was time he made a life for himself out from under the wide shadows his mom, his step-dad and his other mom cast.

“I’ve made up my mind,” Henry told his family one evening after a delicious family dinner at Snow White and Prince Charming’s farmhouse.  “I’m going to buy a magic bean from Anton, and travel to the Enchanted Forest.”

His family had tried to talk him out of it, insisting it was far too dangerous to travel to other lands, lands containing ogres and magical beasts of all types, but Henry was not to be dissuaded.  It was time Henry Mills, son of the heroes Regina Mills, Emma Swan-Jones and Killian Jones made his own way in the world.

And so, he’d packed his storybook and author’s quill in his backpack, bid his family goodbye, and jumped into the portal.

Henry stopped by his grandparents’ former castle and met the Evil Queen and Robin Hood as they lived out their happy ending.  He came across Ruby and Dorothy as they lived out their own adventure.  He met Mulan and her own band of merry men.

But Henry was still unsatisfied, for these were still other people’s tales.  He needed to forge one of his own.

Early one morning he set off once more, intent on walking until he found an adventure of his own.  He walked for long days, sleeping along the road and finding food where he could.

After a week Henry was beginning to lose heart.  Perhaps there was no adventure for him.  Perhaps his lot in life was simply to be the author, simply to record other people’s adventures.  Maybe it was time to go back to Storybrooke, back to his family.

He turned, prepared to return to the beanstalk for the bean that would take him home, but suddenly he heard it, the soft sniffing and heartbroken sobs of a woman.  Henry followed the sound deep into the forest until he came upon a wishing well, much like the one in Storybrooke.  

There he found a beautiful woman with skin the color of coffee with cream, a woman with long curling hair and deep, soulful brown eyes. Henry knew he’d never in his life seen a more beautiful woman.

“Who are you and why are you crying?” he asked, walking carefully forward.

The woman whirled around, a dagger in her hand, held before her menacingly.  Henry raised his hands in surrender and asked again. “Who are you and why are you crying?”

The woman looked at him suspiciously for another moment, and then lowered her dagger, her whole being seeming to sag with it.  “I’m known as Scheherazade.”

“Scheherazade!” Henry said with wonder.  “I’ve heard of you.  You’re the woman who tells stories!”

She nodded.  “I came upon a village some time ago that was plagued by a terrible, terrible creature known only as the Darkness.”

Scheherazade went on to spin a tale of destruction and terror. The darkness preyed on the village, kidnapping one villager every night and killing them to take on their life force. With every new kill, the Darkness became stronger, and the village quickly fell into despair.  Scheherazade knew she could not stand by and let these innocent people die, and so she’d made a wish upon the first star in the east.

“Grant me the ability to save these people.”

And the star had taken on human form and appeared to Scheherazade that very night.

“Because you are brave and true, Scheherazade,” the star said, “your wish will be granted.  You are a weaver of stories, and with those stories you will enthrall the Darkness and save your people.  But beware! All magic comes with a price. Your magic will only last for 1001 nights.  If you’ve not found a way to bind the Darkness once and for all by the morning of the 1002nd day, the darkness will break free and the damage he will wreak will be catastrophic.

And Scheherazade had done as the star had commanded.  That very night, she’d offered herself as the Darkness’s victim, but before he’d killed her, she’d asked for one small favor. “Allow me to tell you a story,” she’d pleaded.  “I am a weaver of stories, and I wish to weave one last story before I die.”

The Darkness had allowed it, and Scheherazade had weaved a thrilling tale full of romance and adventure and danger, and slowly, the Darkness fell into a deep, deep sleep.  The next night, as the Darkness began to stir, Scheherazade began a second tale, and the Darkness sunk even farther into sleep.  And so she continued, night after night.

“But why do you cry now?” Henry asked.  “You’ve saved your village.  You’ve defeated the Darkness.”

Scheherazade shook her head sadly.  “I have,” she said, “but tonight is the 1001st night. If I can’t find a way to bind the Darkness for good, tomorrow morning he’ll break free.”

Henry thought for a moment, and then a smile spread across his face.  “I know how to bind the Darkness once and for all!” he said.  He reached into his bag and pulled out his storybook.  “You are the storyteller, and I am the author. Perhaps together we can defeat this scourge to your kingdom.  You tell the story, and I’ll write it in my book..”

Scheherazade gave Henry a skeptical look, for how could a storybook be the key to defeating Darkness?  But as night fell, and the Darkness began to stir, Scheherazade agreed to the plan, for what did they have to lose.

That night, as Scheherazade told her tale, Henry wrote it in his storybook, and as they worked, the strangest thing happened.  A door within the book opened, and the Darkness was pulled inside.  The door closed, and the Darkness was captured, bound for good.

As long as the storybook remained safe, the Darkness was purged from the land.

The village was so grateful that they threw a celebration for the heroes—the storyteller and her author.  That night Henry and Scheherazade shared their first kiss beneath the pale moon’s glow.

Slowly but surely they fell deeply in love and married, and in due course that love brought a little girl, Lucy, into the world.

And they all lived happily ever afterwards.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Rayna closed the book, and sat back on her couch, closing her eyes.  She felt the strangest sense of pride in the young man, Henry.  She felt like a mother, watching her son come into his own, make his way in the world and find his happy ending.

It was ridiculous, of course.  It was a fairy tale, full of magic spells and darkness smoke monsters and books that had the power to trap evil inside.  It was an interesting story, but it was just that. A story.

And still…something about it resonated in a way that nothing else had since she came to Misthaven….well, however long ago it was she moved here.

Rayna sat up and opened the book once again, needing to read what else was contained within its pages. She read on and on as the dawn slowly broke over Misthaven, stories about the Enchanted Forest, about a town in Maine called Storybrooke, about characters such as the “Savior” the “Evil Queen”, Rumplestiltskin, Snow White and Prince Charming.

There was nothing about the stories that was believable, but with every new word she read, Rayna felt it resonate with her more.  She had the strangest, most insane feeling that what she read in that storybook was the absolute truth.

Rayna didn’t know how or why, but this book made sense in a way nothing else ever had in years.  She needed to know why, and she knew where to turn to get her answers.

She needed to call Robin Locksley.  She only hoped he didn’t think she was too insane when she told him the reason.

Rayna reached for her cell phone, placed her thumbprint on the sensor until it opened, and hovered over the telephone app.

But before she could open it and scroll through for Robin’s number, the landline suddenly began to ring. Rayna jumped slightly before reaching for the cordless headset.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Rayna?” came the cultured, British accent from the other end.  “This is Robin Locksley.  I hope this isn’t terribly forward of me, but I’ve called to ask you for a date.  Will you accompany me to dinner tonight?”

 Notes:

--And so the storybook is slowly wearing away at Regina.  She didn’t get all of her memories back just by touching it, but reading through it is definitely getting her thinking.  So now she wants to meet with Robin, and he wants to go out on a date with her….things are starting to shape up quite nicely.

--I don’t remember who it was who first suggest Scheherazade for Henry’s wife, but I loved that idea! It would be so beyond perfect! Someone who’s known for her stories and the author?  Talk about a perfect match!  I tried to write their story in the style of what I think the storybook would be like, so hopefully that worked for you!  Obviously their “happily ever afterwards” didn’t last forever, but just how the Darkness got out of the book is a subject for a later chapter (I hope…)

--Up next: Rayna agrees to a dinner date with Robin. Before the date Robin, Henry and Lucy make a game plan, and then Robin takes Rayna out to dinner. Things go very well…at least until Rayna asks point blank about the storybook and Robin answers honestly.  How will Regina take the truth?