#they do not trust old man scholars

[squaretablehold]

"I don't know if I've actually said anything cause people'd think I'm way rude if I did, but like, I told you so," Hunter says to no one in particular, "I mean honestly he struck me more as the type that'd go around gouging people's eyes out for dark knowledge rituals, but the blood sings to us all I guess."

[antiqua-lugar]

Halsin: If we do this, I need you to understand exactly what I do not ask of you. I will not ask you to dedicate yourself to me. I roam as nature wills me to, and your heart remains with you. I just wish to share in it.

10/10 absolutely normal things to ask of the githyanki you are in love with after you watched him discover that everything he believed in was a lie, betray his queen to save his companions, murder his people for a mindflayer and then sell his soul to a devil hoping this will finally save his people and all of this after you asked him the impossible (fix the shadowcurse) and he did it mostly because of you and you have no idea of how to deal with that as you are also learning what it means to live without single minded devotion to a single cause (and also you just freed yourself from the duty of being an archdruid and already threw yourself in the duty of being a companion in a place you hate that goes against everything you believe)

[jewishvitya]

A pro-Palestine Jew on tiktok asked those of us who were raised pro-Israel, what got us to change our minds on Palestine. I made a video to answer (with my voice, not my face), and a few people watched it and found some value in it. I'm putting this here too. I communicate through text better than voice.

So I feel repetitive for saying this at this point, but I grew up in the West Bank settlements. I wrote this post to give an example of the extent to which Palestinians are dehumanized there.

Where I live now, I meet Palestinians in day to day life. Israeli Arab citizens living their lives. In the West Bank, it was nothing like that. Over there, I only saw them through the electric fence, and the hostility between us and Palestinians was tangible.

When you're a child being brought into the situation, you don't experience the context, you don't experience the history, you don't know why they're hostile to you. You just feel "these people hate me, they don't want me to exist." And that bubble was my reality. So when I was taught in school that everything we did was in self defense, that our military is special and uniquely ethical because it's the only defensive military in the world - that made sense to me. It slotted neatly into the reality I knew.

One of the first things to burst the bubble for me was when I spoke to an old Israeli man and he was talking about his trauma from battle. I don't remember what he said, but it hit me wrong. It conflicted with the history as I understood it. So I was a bit desperate to make it make sense again, and I said, "But everything we did was in self defense, right?"

He kinda looked at me, couldn't understand at all why I was upset, and he went, "We destroyed whole villages. Of course we did. It was war, that's what you do."

And that casual "of course" stuck with me. I had to look into it more.

I couldn't look at more accurate history, and not at accounts by Palestinians, I was too primed against these sources to trust them. The community I grew up in had an anti-intellectual element to it where scholars weren't trusted about things like this.

So what really solidified this for me, was seeing Palestinian culture.

Because part of the story that Israel tells us to justify everything, is that Palestinians are not a distinct group of people, they're just Arabs. They belong to the nations around us. They insist on being here because they want to deny us a homeland. The Palestinian identity exists to hurt us. This, because the idea of displacing them and taking over their lands doesn't sound like stealing, if this was never theirs and they're only pretending because they want to deprive us.

But then foods, dances, clothing, embroidery, the Palestinian dialect. These things are history. They don't pop into existence just because you hate Jews and they're trying to move here. How gorgeous is the Palestinian thobe? How stunning is tatreez in general? And when I saw specific patterns belonging to different regions of Palestine?

All of these painted for me a rich shared life of a group of people, and countered the narrative that the Palestininian identity was fabricated to hurt us. It taught me that, whatever we call them, whatever they call themselves, they have a history in this land, they have a right to it, they have a connection to it that we can't override with our own.

I started having conversations with leftist friends. Confronting the fact that the borders of the occupied territories are arbitrary and every Israeli city was taken from them. In one of those conversations, I was encouraged to rethink how I imagine peace.

This also goes back to schooling. Because they drilled into us, we're the ones who want peace, they're the ones who keep fighting, they're just so dedicated to death and killing and they won't leave us alone.

In high school, we had a stadium event with a speaker who was telling us about a person who defected from Hamas, converted to Christianity and became a Shin Bet agent. Pretty sure you can read this in the book "Son of Hamas." A lot of my friends read the book, I didn't read it, I only know what I was told in that lecture. I guess they couldn't risk us missing out on the indoctrination if we chose not to read it.

One of the things they told us was how he thought, we've been fighting with them for so long, Israelis must have a culture around the glorification of violence. And he looked for that in music. He looked for songs about war. And for a while he just couldn't find any, but when he did, he translated it more fully, and he found out the song was about an end to wars. And this, according to the story as I was told it, was one of the things that convinced him. If you know know the current trending Israeli "war anthem," you know this flimsy reasoning doesn't work.

Back then, my friend encouraged me to think more critically about how we as Israelis envision peace, as the absence of resistance. And how self-centered it is. They can be suffering under our occupation, but as long as it doesn't reach us, that's called peace. So of course we want it and they don't.

Unless we're willing to work to change the situation entirely, our calls for peace are just "please stop fighting back against the harm we cause you."

In this video, Shlomo Yitzchak shares how he changed his mind. His story is much more interesting than mine, and he's much more eloquent telling it. He mentions how he was taught to fear Palestinians. An automatic thought, "If I go with you, you'll kill me." I was taught this too. I was taught that, if I'm in a taxi, I should be looking at the driver's name. And if that name is Arab, I should watch the road and the route he's taking, to be prepared in case he wants to take me somewhere to kill me. Just a random person trying to work. For years it stayed a habit, I'd automatically look at the driver's name. Even after knowing that I want to align myself with liberation, justice, and equality. It was a process of unlearning.

On October, not long after the current escalation of violence, I had to take a taxi again. A Jewish driver stopped and told me he'll take me, "so an Arab doesn't get you." Israeli Jews are so comfortable saying things like this to each other. My neighbors discussed a Palestinian employee, with one saying "We should tell him not to come anymore, that we want to hire a Jew." The second answered, "No, he'll say it's discrimination," like it would be so ridiculous of him. And the first just shrugged, "So we don't have to tell him why." They didn't go through with it, but they were so casual about this conversation.

In the Torah, we're told to treat those who are foreign to us well, because we know what it's like to be the foreigner. Fighting back against oppression is the natural human thing to do. We know it because we lived it. And as soon as I looked at things from this angle, it wasn't really a choice of what to support.

[readychilledwine]

Dying thinking about rhys literally pining and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just. completely clueless about it 💀 and she thinks it's just rhys being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!"

Subtle

Summary - Rhys is ready to lay it all onto the table when he gets home from his time in captivity. He just hopes you're as ready as he is.

Warnings - fighting, drinking, inner circle board game night, implied smut

A/N - Cassian would absolutely dominate Risk. I almost felt guilty using it as my inspiration for the game night piece. This was fun to write. Definitely going to have to do some more in terms of family game night with the Inner Circle and my readers/ocs

Ps - gif is how I imagine Cassian and Azriel.

He promised himself when he came home from the mountain, he would court you. Truly court you. Gifts, dates, everything. 

The bond had snapped for him a few years before Amarantha took them all hostage, but you had just recently been saved from a temple, and he wanted to give you time to heal before he advanced. 

In the time you two spent together, he discovered you enjoyed similar things. During your time at the temple, you had begun to study the stars, the solar system, theories on the galaxy. He used that to his advantage, claiming he just wanted to meet with someone who shared his passion and hobby. 

You were welcomed into the Inner Circle as his head scholar within a year. There wasn't a single thing in that library you could not transcribe or find, and it proved to be quite helpful for the Shadowsinger and his studies of old court alliances and traditions and for Cassian as he began to study ancient warfare. 

You all sat at your first family dinner in 50 years, enjoying the free flowing wine, the light conversation. You were watching Rhys subtly, and he you. After dessert, he stood, walking over to you and offering you his hand before leaving to his office with you.

"About fucking time," Cassian mumbled under his breath, and the table nodded.

Rhysand sat you down in his office. "I missed you," he said gently. "I missed my time alone with you. Forgive me for pulling you away from our friends."

You shook your head, a smile settling on your face. "There's nothing to forgive. What did you want to talk about?"

It was too soon for him to say what he wanted, too soon to be this forward, so he decided to gently introduce you to his affections. "It doesn't matter what we talk about, y/n. I just want to be around you."

Over the next month, he took his time with you. He showered you with gifts ranging from jewelry to new books on the stars, to clothing. His touches when you two were alone became more intimate and lingering. 

You wrote it off as him introducing himself to touch with someone he trusted again, not believing Rhysand, the most attractive male fae in existence, would ever want you or find you beautiful.

He began dropping all subtleties two months into his new behavior. In front of the Inner Circle, an arm would go behind your shoulders. He'd play with your hair. He'd rest a hand on your knee or lower thigh. 

For tonight's family game night, you were in charge of picking the board game, and Rhys stood behind you as you looked over the countless shelves. "Azriel is off tomorrow," you recounted softly. "Amren is actually interested in playing." He watched your delicate finger move over to more complicated games. "But if I pick something too difficult Mor and Cassian will leave." Rhys admired you in affectionate silence still. "And you and I will bicker no matter what we play because," you turned him, one of the Inner Circles absolute favorite battle mapping and strategy games in hand. You deepened your voice, raising a perfect brow at him. "My name is Rhysand, I am the most intelligent high lord, and I can never be wrong." 

He smirked, almost truly purring like a pleased cat, as he replied. "Well, if you believe so, darling, and I believe so, it must be true." You could help but giggle, holding the game out to him. "We haven't played this in years, y/n." 

They had purchased it to teach you battle planning and rationing, not realizing it would soon become a game that your teams 3 would enjoy so much and become so passionate about that arguments would ensue over who was the most capable. 

You were always teamed with Cassian and Amren. Your two friends took you under their wings, for Cassian quite literally, and would use the game and your turns as education moments. 

"Amren said if I picked well enough, she'd stay and play." You smiled up at him. "Maybe you could switch her and Mor so she isn't dealing with such a handicap?"

Rhys made a face of confusion at you. "You are not a handicap, darling," he tilted your face up to his with two fingers under your chin. "I never want to hear those words fall from your mouth again. Now, to the game room."

The two of you went up the stairs, several bottles of alcohol and the board game in hand, and the room went silence when they saw that familiar painted terrain box. 

Cassian was the first to jump up, immediately clearing more space on the table. "I'm fucking you up this time, Az."

The shadowsinger shook his head, rearranging the chairs and staring his brother down. "Over my dead body, Cassian."

Amren immediately took her spot, one one that'd normally be on your right, and Cassian the one on the left. The two of them patted the chair eagerly staring at you despite knowing they were about to lose. 

Azriel and Rhys were making eye contact. A smile ghosting the face of the shadowsinger. Rhys began slowly, setting the bottles down. "I was thinking we could change the teams a little. Mor with you two, and y/n with Azriel and I."

Cassian covered a laugh with a cough and Amren's face turned into that of a feral cat. Mor also wore a shameless smirk as she took your seat. 

Azriel ushered you to the table, setting you in the middle chair. He was near your ear and said softly. "Just follow our lead, study what we're doing, and remember all the books we read, okay? You will do fine." Rhysand and him sat next to you. 

This was not a fair team. You had expected him to switch Amren and Mor, leaving still fairly even odds, but now Cassian's side was stacked. 

The commander of the Illyrian and Night Court's army who mapped battles out for fun.

An ancient being who studied bloodshed and battles for fun, openly commenting on where armies and nations mess up.

And Mor. Mor who lead battalions as a female. Mor who was Rhysand's last resort.

You bit your lip, immediately feeling insecure. Stop it, Rhysand said gently into your head. We have an advantage here, remember?

You kept a neutral face, feeling something being built into your mind. This is cheating, Azriel's deep voice then said. We should do this to beat Cassian more often. You heard soft flows of whispers in your mind, almost causing you to drop the calm face. You get used to them, the two males said together. They're very, very helpful. Rhysand purred. 

You leaned back taking a deep breath and studying the map of the eastern and western contenants and countries. "Y/n," Cassian said per tradition and rules, "you go first as the most traveled fae." 

Take the western isles, Azriel said. Steal where Cassian trained you to go and throw him off. It is exactly where you should start to win, you just typically make small enough errors we could pull everything apart. You took the legion figures in your hand. "I only know one start for this game, Cass." The general's face fell as you placed your allotted start pieces. 

"You-" His jaw tightened. "I see how this is going to be." 

You heard that whisper as Mor began. Night Court. It was ghostly and snake like, predicting her move exactly. Made mistake. No air legions.

A hand found yours under the table, lacing your fingers into calloused longer ones. "Shall we begin?" 

The game turned into what it traditionally turns into quickly. Azriel and Cassian were stood, noses touching as they talked shit about each other battle planning. 

Your team had managed to take 80% of the board through methods you weren't proud of. Amren and Mor were also quietly arguing, the blonde accusing the ancient being of purposely sabotaging them when it was Mor who made the initial mistake that had handicapped them the rest of the game.

Rhysand's hand had moved from holding yours to your mid thigh, tracing small circles into the skin as you two drank wine and watched the fighting with matching cat like grins. He inclined his head to the balcony and you two stood to walk outside as Cassian threw a last straw insult Azriel's way, resulting in the traditional fist fight that came with this game. 

You and Rhysand leaned against the balcony, looking up at the twinkling stars. He had closed the link the three of you were sharing, allowing you to focus on just him. "I can see why Azriel struggles with headaches now," you confessed. "I can't imagine constantly hearing that input of information."

Rhys nodded. "I block it for him when he sleeps. Unless it's urgent. Then I allow them to communicate." 

"That makes sense." 

Comfortable silence fell between you two. At least silence until Rhys accidentally blurted out the words he'd wanted to for years now. "I love you."

"I love you too, Rhysand." You leaned into his arm and watched as his head fell in defeat. 

"No, y/n Darling. I don't think you understood that."

You blinked at his slightly panicked and desperate face. "Rhys, I love all of you, you're my friends and family."

Rhys shut his eyes, turning you so you two were looking at each other face to face, heart to heart. His two large hands came to your cheeks, cupping yout face as a serious expression fell over his. "Darling, I'm in love with you. I have been for a very very long time." Your mouth parted slightly, breath stilling as you blinked at him. 

It all made sense now. The countless gifts. The "dates". The moments spent completely alone where he'd have his hands on you. 

"Rhysand," you watched him nod, taking your silence as rejection. "No." You pulled him back to you, "I. I love you too." 

His eyes searched your face as he searched your mind. "You thought?" You nodded, not needing him to finish questioning your insecurities. "Oh darling." You felt something pull in your ribcage, eyes growing wide as you stared at him. Tears began to form in both of your eyes as he moved to hold you close again. "I could never and would never do that to you, y/n. I have loved you since the time you helped me adjust my Starmap. Our time apart just helped make it more apparent." 

He crashed his lips on yours in a hard passionate kiss. Snaking his arms around your waist as yours went to his shoulders, pulling him closer.

It was fire.

It was the richest of wines you'd ever had.

The coolest water in the desert.

Kissing Rhysand wasn't just an action. It was an experience. You almost melted into his body, allowing him to hold you as closely as possible. 

You two finally pulled apart, his forehead finding yours instantly as you both smiled and laughed softly. 

"HAND OVER MY FUCKING MONEY AZRIEL!" You both jumped at the loud boom of Cassian's voice.

"It's midnight," a cool reply came. You both moved inside just in time to hear Azriel's explanation. "It's a new month now, Cassian. You said two months. I said three. How about you hand over MY MONEY?"

Rhysand made an appalled face, his jaw dropping. "You two placed a bet on this?"

Amren rolled her eyes as Mor was growling and handing over three jewelry boxes. "We all did. Thank you, girl. It was a pleasure doing business with you. Shadowsinger, we make a wonderful team." 

Azriel sat with his hand out, sipping his whiskey casually as Cassian groaned and counted out pieces of gold. "Yes we do, little fire drake, yes we do."

Rhys rolled his eyes, pulling you by your hand to the stairs. "Goodnight," he called over his shoulder. A chorus of Goodnights came in reply before arguing ensued again. 

Rhysand led you to his room, opening the door and leading inside of the luxurious chamber by the small of your back. He pulled you to his bed, laying you back on it gently as he began to kiss you again. Relax, darling. I only want a few kisses.

It was much, much more than just a few kisses. 

[cdragons]

❄️ Imagine Being Luwin's Apprentice & Childhood Friends with Robb, Jon, and Theon ❄️

-> This will include headcanons about all Starks, but focus on these three dorks towards the end.

A/N: There's an utter lack of for our Kings of the North and Kraken, so this is my attempt to add to it. These might be a bit lengthy.

Here's the general dynamic of you, Robb, Jon, and Theon. I put in Hogwarts House Terms, but I in no way support JK Rowling.

Robb - Gryffindor

Jon - Hufflepuff

Theon - Slytherin

You - Ravenclaw

In the simplest terms, you hold the only brain cell.

-> Let's say you were a low-born girl on a trek to Winterfell so you could learn under Maester Luwin. You were a rare kind of low-born who knew how to read, and you wanted to learn more. Your parents didn't approve and tried to sell you off, so you ran away with a small travel sack of your journal, clothes, and some food. You cut your hair and wore breeches to look like a boy.

-> It took many days and nights, but you eventually made it to Winterfell and refused to leave until you met with Lord Eddard Stark. Needless to say, ol' Ned Stark was shocked to find the person demanding his presence was a four-foot-tall dirty child with feet caked in mud and steely eyes. He asked if something happened to your family and you immediately deeply bowed and asked if you could learn under Maester Luwin before fainting from a high fever.

-> While treating you and finding out that you were a girl, Luwin looked through your tiny journal and was shocked to find you knew your letters and could write better than his lord's children and ward. He read the passages you wrote while traveling. You drew pictures of different plants and animals and wrote your observations of them. Luwin decided right then and there that he would take you in as an apprentice. When you woke up, he told you the good news, and you were so happy you jumped in the air with a loud "WHOOP" before tackling the old man down with a hug.

-> Ned was a bit unsure, but he trusted Luwin's judgment. If his oldest advisor told him that he believed that you had great potential as a scholar, he believed him. When you were brought over to meet Lord and Lady Stark, you were shocked at how tall and imposing Ned looked. "ARE YOU A GIANT? DO YOU OWN THIS CASTLE?" were your first words to the man as a huge smile spread across your face. After being shocked for a few moments, Ned threw his head back and laughed harder than he had in ages. He patted your head and ruffled your hair. "No child, I'm no giant. But I am the lord of this castle, and your lord, too."

-> Catelyn was much more skeptical because what kind of low-born child learned how to read? When she led you to your new chambers, she asked you this, and you proudly answered her. "I taught myself! There was a traveler passing through my village one day, and I nicked his books and charcoal!" At her horrified expression, you made sure to clarify that he was already dead and you didn't take his money. That didn't really calm her down, but her husband already decided to let Luwin take you in as an apprentice, so you might as well learn how to dress and speak like a lady.

-> Jon was the first Stark child you befriended. Luwin ordered you to take a break from your lessons since you've been holed up reading and writing nonstop. You found him practicing alone in the courtyard, hitting a training dummy with a wooden sword. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" you shouted to him. Your voice startled him so much that he dropped his sword to the ground and jumped like three feet into the air. "I'm training," he answered, and when you asked if you could stay and watch, he agreed. He was shy at first, but you and he built a quick and strong friendship after a couple more times you watched him train. There would be times you convinced him to take a break from his training, and you two would explore Winterfell's nooks and crannies. Jon didn't expect to like you so quickly, but you made it too easy.

-> Strangely enough, Theon was the second boy of the trio you would meet and befriend. It didn't go as smoothly as you meeting Jon. Theon thought you were one of the new maids-in-training and decided to tease you by tugging your hair and trying to scare you with stories about his Ironborn family coming to raid and burn keeps and steal rude pretty little girls. You just shrugged and told him, "I'll just cut my hair and pretend to be a boy. I'll even not bathe to smell like one - not the first time I did that." You then asked him if he knew more stories about mermaids and if Nagga's bones really made up the Grey King's Hall on Old Wyk. From there on, it became very noticeable to everyone that although Theon was Robb's shadow, he was only really soft with you.

-> Robb was the last to meet you. His mother didn't like the idea of her son meeting and befriending a low-born girl. But one day, he got hurt and went to visit Luwin. Imagine his surprise to see a girl his age sitting with Luwin as she read from books too hard for him to read. Luwin introduced the two of you, and you asked if you could help treat Robb this time since you felt ready. Very quickly, you treated his wounds. From then on, Robb would see you before seeing Luwin. He liked how close you got when you told him what you've learned under Luwin. He liked being close enough to you that he could smell your hair. It upset him to know that Theon and Jon knew about you before he did, but his ire quickly went away when you agreed to be his friend.

-> Ever since you began your lessons under Septa Mordane, you learned the benefits of knowing your stitches since you could use this skill to treat wounds and lower the risk of infection. You didn't care so much as the other stuff, but you quickly learned the most complicated and intricate stitches, which got the septa's approval. Whenever you had time to play with the boys again, you would always carry some needle and thread with you. You'd also carry boiled vinegar if you needed a disinfectant and a balm for wound care. This proved to be EXTREMELY useful as you four continued to play and grow older.

-> Because you were learning lessons under Luwin and the septa, you had to learn how to stitch, dress, act, and talk like a lady. Lady Stark grew very fond of you, as you were surprisingly complacent and took to acting more ladylike very quickly. This was not going unnoticed by the boys, and soon, it was very quickly becoming apparent to everyone but you that the three eldest boys of Winterfell were utterly besotted with you. At this point, Luwin thought you were like a daughter and his family. He loved you very much and warned you to be careful around your friends. He encouraged you to spend more time with Sansa, Arya, and other girls your age.

-> It frustrated you, but you still listened. You didn't know what the fuss was all about. Theon, Robb, Jon, and you were friends. Yep. Just friends. No hormonal teenage feelings emerging.

-> When Bran and Rickon were old enough, you quickly became as involved in their lessons as Luwin had been for the boys. You made their lessons fun and memorable for the young boys. Luwin looks at you with so much love and pride when the boys tell him about your lessons and how happy and excited they always act whenever you teach them something new. You've even made sums and history seem fun! You were also very involved with Sansa and Arya's education. They had Septa Morgane, but they also wanted to learn under you, and before you knew it, you were teaching four children - all younger than you.

-> Rickon and Arya absolutely worshiped you. You always had time to play with Rickon and never sent him away if you were busy like his mother and father had to sometimes. For Arya, she loved how you never thought her strange and weird for being so different from Sansa. These two followed you like ducklings whenever they had free time. The sight greatly amused Ned and Catelyn, as they thought it was the funniest thing to see how two young wolves are so dedicated to following you. And you being close doesn't go unnoticed by the boys.

-> Robb and Jon would stare at you with so much longing whenever you carried Rickon in your arms and sang him lullabies. They'd grow stupidly jealous that you could kiss Rickon and Bran's cheeks and foreheads to wish them goodnight or ease their pains if they tripped or fell. They would fantasize what their lives would be like if they could court you and take you as their wife. But it could never be.

-> Robb must marry a highborn noble lady as his father's heir to continue House Stark's legacy and ensure the North's safety. He knew this fact his whole life, but knowing that you couldn't be the one he took as a wife hurt him so much. To him, you embodied all the necessary qualities to be a Lady Stark: your kindness, beauty, wit, and intellect—just to name a few. Robb would try to impress you by escorting you to feasts held in the Great Hall and remaining by your side to joke and dance with you. After every dance, he'd take your hand and lay a gentle kiss on it as you would laugh and playfully shove him. Sometimes, when the feasts got too noisy and loud, he and you would sneak to just hang out in the kitchens. He would always get a stern talking-to with his mother for not talking with other ladies, but he only wanted you. Besides, how could he regret spending the entire feast beside you with your body pressed so close to his?

-> Growing up with Jon, you obviously knew about his bastard status. But you always told him that his name "Snow" didn't matter because he was among the most wonderful and sweetest people you've ever met. Sometimes, you'd successfully manage to take his mind off it, but there were days when it felt like the entire world was staring at him for it. Either Lady Catelyn said something very cruel and hurtful to him, or Theon poked too much fun at him. On these days, you'd take a few pastries or fruits from the kitchens that you stole, grab his hand, and hide away in the Godswoods. You would share your treats and talk about everything you've learned under Luwin. Sometimes, you'd have a book with you and read him your favorite stories about magic and dragons until the sun goes down. Jon won't really have much to say. He'll nod and smile and laugh, and sometimes he'll sneak glances and wonder how could someone look so beautiful and perfect in the sunset?

-> Theon decided it was better to go about the Ironborn way and "steal" you from whatever you were doing or whomever you were with. He'd go get you whenever you were with Septa Mordane and say that Luwin had called for you or if one of the younger Starks was asking about you. He'd get you out, and two seconds later, he and you were taking walks in Winter Town and goofing off. He'd also pull some dumb teenage boy pranks to get your attention. He'd tease you by asking you questions when you're off guard and make you say embarrassing answers. When you finally realize what you said, you would get insanely flustered and whack him while he laughs. But unlike with others, he'll actually apologize to you and make it up to you by showing you how to shoot an arrow. But honestly, it's just an excuse for him to get close to you. He likes to "help" by positioning your arm and standing extra close.

A/N: I got tons more planned but I didn't want to make it too long! But please comment or reblog to let me know what you think or if you have ideas you want to drop in my ask box!

[deathbxnny]

HI BXNNY MY LOVEEEE

hehe I'm here another time with a platonic pairing~

Once again with a fem, little sister child! reader but this time it's not a specific scenario like my recent request for Aventurine, just headcanons with Argenti (never seen you write for my man? Idk if you write him, feel free to ignore him or add another character if you don't ♡) Jing Yuan and Dr. Ratio?

TAKE CARE OF URSELFF💕💐🌻

Hey there, dear moot!! This is such a cute idea, and I'd LOVE to write for Argenti, so thank you for including him!!<3

Content: Reader is a child, fluff, unserious, big brother characters, platonic relationships, slight angst, sfw

Reader is afab here!!

((Not proofread))

》ARGENTI

Argenti saw you as a blessing from Idrila, something he was very vocal about to everyone and especially his little sister. He spoils you greatly and has an inability to say no to you. However, he often still wonders if it is right to bring you along on his journey through the cosmos in search of his lost Aeon. He knows it's dangerous and most likely could cause his death one day... but he still can't find himself leaving you behind.

Since he is such a strict believer of Idrila, you ofcourse begin to mimic his devotion in your behavior, something that means way more than words could describe to him. His heart swells with pride when he sees you recite the prayers and praises or dress the way he does. It makes his worries and doubts melt away.

With that said, you truly have him wrapped around your little fingers, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

》DR. VERITAS RATIO

His expectations for you were high and perhaps even stressful at times. He wanted you to be the best, to exceed him in ways not even he ever could. Ratio believed that what he was doing was for your own good, for your own perfect future... which, however, unfortunately meant that he often times forgot that you were still simply a child. This, in turn, just means that he'll self-reflect often and try and give you more breaks in-between classes and studying whenever you need them.

With that said, he is a busy professor and scholar, which often leads him to not be home as much as you want him to. He tries his best to find some time to spend with you however when he is home, although that's usually spent either reading books or listening to long lectures from him. He thinks that that is great bonding time for the both of you.

Ratio may not be very vocal or open about his love for his little sister, but it's obvious with how much he cares for your well-being and future, even when he can come off as mean or harsh at times. He wants you to have a good life without him one day and will make sure you're prepared for it.

》JING YUAN

Jing Yuan adores you greatly and doesn't shy away from spoiling you with anything you want. He often gets accused of perhaps spoiling you even a little too much from Fu Xuan, but he simply waves it off with no concern. You deserve way more than he can offer you, after all.

With that said, Yanqing is indeed your designated babysitter, much to the boy's annoyance at times. On one hand, it's because Jing Yuan trusts him way more than anyone else with you... and on the other, he knows that the blonde will learn to behave himself and slow down better with you around. Or so he thinks, at first. Once you're old enough to become best of friends with him, the days of your mischievous pranks on the general start, mainly out of spite.

Jing Yuan finds it cute and amusing until he's dowsed in water as you both run away laughing hysterically. Maybe Fu Xuan was right...

Alrightttt... I hope this was okay, dear moot!! Thank you again for the request!!<33

[angrylesbianstereotype]

With the way Walt wasted no time to start abusing Jesse as soon as they partnered up, and considering Walt treats Jesse like he's his son AND his wife... Do you think this means Walt had been bursting at the seams to abuse his real son and real wife this whole time, and only with Jesse did he have a chance to do so?

*Pushes glasses up on nose as though I am a respected scholar in a legitimate field of study* Ok so I hate to answer a compelling question with a kind of roundabout, not at all concrete answer but here goes: Walter wants to do whatever Walter wants to do, in the moment, without having to concern himself with that pesky, pedestrian little irritant known as ye olde consequences. He’s your basic old white fart who, because he grew up with the oxymoron of the white man as a vehicle for both exceptionalism and the Everyman, believes that consequences should not apply to him, and feels that he has been hard done by because, shocker, his stagnancy prior to the beginning of the series hasn’t resulted in everything he ever wanted falling into his lap! He does abuse both Skyler and Flynn over the course of the series, the assault on Skyler in season two being the most overtly violent of these instances, though it is heavily implied in season five that this isn’t even a one time occurrence; “I can’t even keep you out of my bed!” It’s also in season two that he peer pressures his teenage son into drinking to excess to gain the upper hand in his one-sided pissing contest with Hank, and this mirrors the ways in which he flexes his control over Jesse in front of Gus and Mike. Walter is dangerous precisely because he doesn’t view himself as an abuser, it’s not like he wistfully daydreams about slouching around the house in a wifebeater, terrorizing his wife and kids until they walk on eggshells around him. In fact, he’s shown throughout the series to act like a little pissbaby throwing a little pissbaby tantrum whenever he’s treated by his family like the monster he is. He wants to be able to act on his anger, to rape his wife and bully his son, without being subject to any of the organic repercussions these actions would inevitably induce. He doesn’t want to play the part of the mild-mannered family man anymore, or put in any of the work required to keep up that front, but he still wants to be seen as the provider and benevolent patriarch. He wants to have his fucking cake and eat it to.

That’s where Jesse comes in.

Walter loves Jesse, he does. The problem was never that he didn’t love Jesse, it was why he loved Jesse. Walter loves Jesse more than Flynn, that much was confirmed by Vince in a quote I can’t find anymore for the fucking life of me so you’ll just have to take my word for it ig. Walter might even love Jesse more than Skyler. But he doesn’t love Jesse as a person so much as a conduit, as an indispensable resource. It’s pretty vital, actually, that the person Walter projects all his shit onto isn’t a part of his immediate family, because then Jesse can be whatever he wants him to be. It’s great for Walter that Jesse’s a junkie, because then, according to societal norms, he doesn’t have to see Jesse as human when he’s taking out all of his anger on him. When Jesse isn’t being malleable enough for his liking, or even if Walt’s mad about something else entirely, then Jesse’s just a junkie, a nobody, an ungrateful, petulant fuck-up. When Walter is being rightfully shut out by his family or needs Jesse for some material task, then Jesse is practically family to him. They’re partners. It’s a terrible burden to put on an impressionable 24-year-old, a pretty fucking shitty thing to do to someone who trusts you, more than they should, and an impossible exception to live up to, to be someone’s everything.

So when Jesse inevitably fails at it, inevitably falls short of this perfectly imperfect idealization of himself, he is punished, horribly.

Walter never would have done the things he did to Jesse to Flynn, or to Skyler.

He doesn’t love them as much.

[mayullla]

Hello! I love ur work, and was wondering if I could ask for dottore (?) with 🌹🍁 ??

if you can’t that’s ok =) take your time!

Note: I am gonna assume (?) means that I could pick if it is yandere or platonic yandere and reader? well either way hope you like it!

Title: Unfair Trade

Character(s): Il Dottore (Genshin Impact) Summary: You trapped yourself in your mind after you and the traveler had been lured into a trap made by Dottore. Why you were stuck in your own conscious Il Dottore and the Grand Sage talked about their little deal. Warnings/tags: Dendro archon!reader, fem!reader, yandere themes, possessive behavior, manipulation, power imbalance, 3.2 archon quest scenario, drabble, this is related to a really old brainrot I had before (here)

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

"Now that I have done my part of the deal, it is only fair that you, too, hold your end of the deal."

"Yes! Yes!!" Azar spoke in a hurried tone. There was greed in his voice of a hopeful future that he could not wait to come. The price was cheap for what it was. Something that he would gladly give.

"You may take the pitiful dendro archon. With our new archon who will rule Sumeru with wisdom and knowledge giving away that weak archon is but a far small price to pay. In fact, I feel as if this deal is not even fair." Azar spoke to the expelled scholar of the academia once he would have looked down on such a man now he spoke with respect. 

Yet he could not help but furrow his eyebrows. Why did this man even want you... "Considering how much you have helped us, we would gladly give you anything else you want?"

"An archon is still an archon while she is weaker compared to others. She is still an existence above many beings." Dottore smiled at the grand sage, appearing more satisfied with the trade than anything. "I do not need anything she alone is enough for me."

"Suit yourself. I must go now, I have another scheduled appointment that I must go to. I apologize. Stay for a while if you wish, and I will have someone bring in more tea if you want." No longer willing to push the subject matter. Azar stood up about to call someone to come in.

"There is no need to worry. I too also need to go soon. The Tsaritsa had called me, and I must prepare to leave for Snezhnaya soon." Waving his hand, he let the Grand Sage leave as he too left the room, heading higher and higher up the stairs of the building.

"If only our own archon was wise in wisdom and knowledge, would we never have to resort to this."

"Trust me, I know your sufferings. I only provided you a way the rest you have worked hard for the benefit of Sumeru." Dottore could only laugh at such useless talks, both knowing well they have their own goals and motivations, yet spewing lies and deceit.

Reaching the place only the higher-ups could enter.

Dottore looked at the person with the orb, sleeping soundly as if, once upon a time, a few days ago, she wasn't trying to rebel with the traveler to rescue her land.

"I still remember the emotions in your eyes when you saw me. Standing in front of the academia with the traveler, it was only proper to cheer for the hero and their own archon." Il Dottore smiled when he got a clear glimpse of your peaceful sleeping face nothing like the face you gave him when you found out and realized what he has done to your people. "Your expression that time is still something I relished every time I remember it."

"How unfortunate." There was a small movement on his lips that looked like a frown of displeasure and dissatisfaction but quickly curled into a smile again. "I was so close to having you back then, yet you soon left as soon as you realized that the traveler was far away and safe. It was a shame back then, but I wouldn't put it past you to do something like that. And even now, you have avoided most of my trap with something like this.”

"It is quite disappointing, I must say. But no matter, it was all pure entertainment. After all, no matter where your contious was, your body was always here in this little orb."

He circled around your orb. His mask looked in your direction. The sounds of his shoes tapping the floor echoed within the quiet wide place where it is just you and him.

"Would you push me away again after Sumeru had abandoned you like this?" Dottore asked mockingly, "The sages were so thrilled by this chance of a fake god that they were so quick to make a deal that once they have their man-made god they will give you as payment."

"All the Tsaritsa wants is the dendro gnosis. She doesn't care much for how we attain it, so I am sure she would let me keep you from myself. After all, I have already done many things for our Tsaritsa's sake." Stopping his body turned towards you as he raised his hands a little as if showing you something that he was proud of. He knew that he was talking to deaf ears and that you couldn't even hear him. But that didn't stop him. He had you, and now you belonged to him.

"It is, after all, only a matter of time dear. We shall see how long you can hide in this darkness that you have created, this barrier to keep me out. I will slowly take away those walls that guard your consciousness." His grin could not go down no matter what as he looked at you curled up in a ball within the orb.

"Those sages are foolish to give you away from a man-made archon. But that doesn't matter in the end so long as you are mine. It is only a matter of time, dendro archon. Soon, your consciousness will be mine, and I will make sure that it will be locked away from the world with only myself in your thoughts."

[five-rivers]

Just One Day (Chapter 1)

During times like this, Iroh glimpses what Zuko could have been if Lu Ten lived.  

It’s easy, almost painfully so, for Iroh to see what he himself would have been.  He wouldn’t have had any reason to change, after all, and he had already been old by the time he’d breached the walls of Ba Sing Se.  But for Zuko?  That’s harder.  

Zuko had been a child, still forming, still being formed, when Lu Ten died.  Zuko’s training would have taken a very different path, if he had been allowed to remain a mere cousin to the crown prince.  

Looking at what could have been for Zuko is like looking into a kaleidoscope.  Even within the confines of the royal house, there are a thousand paths Zuko could have walked.  A diplomat, a priest, a soldier, a scholar, an artist, an advisor.  A spy.  An assassin.

It’s the way Zuko pours himself out of the ventilation shaft, utilizing a economy of motion that could be called graceful that does it.  The utter silence of his movements, the color of his clothes, the brightness in his eyes…  Yes.  Iroh sees what Zuko might have been.  What he might have been used for, in another world.  What even Iroh himself might have been encouraged.

But if Iroh would imagine that world, he might as well imagine any of the dozen others that have crossed his mind over the years.  That countless myriad of what-ifs set on him like a spirit plague.  If he imagines that world, he could instead picture kinder ones.  Ones where the war was over, where Zuko was happy.  

It was immaterial.  What mattered was the here and now.  Here and now, Zuko is none of those things.  Zuko is an exile, a desperate one, chasing after a rapidly narrowing beam of hope that had more in common with the lure of an angler-shark than anything good.

“Uncle?” asks Zuko, voice quiet and rough.  Burnt.

“My apologies, Nephew,” says Iroh.  “You must forgive an old man his woolgathering.”

Zuko’s pinched expression says that no, he doesn’t have to do that and probably won’t.  “You have to focus if-- if we’re doing this.  You can’t be distracted when Zhao is looking over your shoulder.”  His tone is angry.  At least, that is how most people would interpret it.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, I’ve made sure we’re alone.  We’re as safe as we can be.  In the meantime, food!  And more importantly, tea.”

Zuko scrunches his face into an expression that is both delightfully teenage and undoubtedly painful.  His face is covered in bruises and small cuts.  “Uncle…”

“You may wrinkle your nose, Prince Zuko, but every person in the world has at least one virtue, and Admiral Zhao’s is excellent taste in tea.”  He smiles as he sits down and reaches for the pot.  “Although, I am sorry to say that his virtue is a very lonely one.”

Sadly, this does not get the laugh Iroh was hoping for.  Zuko’s scowl may, however, become slightly less pronounced.  He also, once Iroh sits down, falls on the food like a starving man.  He might very well be.  Iroh’s position on the ship and in Admiral Zhao’s retinue has the unfortunate requirement of being in Zhao’s presence, or that of his trusted subordinates, most of the day.  This means that he cannot help his nephew nearly as much as he would like.  

So.  It is, in fact, very likely that this is Zuko’s first meal today.

Although, Zuko is quite capable of theft, when it serves his purposes and sense of honor.  Maybe he is just being a teenager.  Teenagers are hungry.  

Iroh would ask, but he doubts he would receive an honest answer, either way.  

Then, Zuko stops, mid-bite.  “Uncle,” he says around a dumpling, “have you eaten?”

Then again, Iroh is, perhaps, not a bastion of honesty himself.  “Of course!”  He pats his stomach.  “Have you ever known me to miss a free meal?”

Zuko squints at this, then looks back down at his food.  He doesn’t start eating again.  

“Do you ever…” he starts, before pursing his lips together.  

“Yes?” prompts Iroh, hopefully.  

“Do you ever wish,” says Zuko, quickly, the words tumbling over each other, crowding to get out of his mouth, “that you were someone else?”  He freezes, then, jaw clenched tightly, as if he fears that he has spoken out of turn.  

“No,” says Iroh, glad that, at least, this is a familiar fear.  “No.  Prince Zuko, I do not regret my decision to be with you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” says Zuko, clearly frustrated but keeping his voice at a near whisper.  “I mean…  Do you ever wish that you weren’t-- That you didn’t--  That you were a, I don’t know, a poet, or a priest, or a-- a normal person.  Somewhere.  Someone who didn’t… didn’t have to…”  He shrugged.

Iroh blinks.  Not a fear, then, perhaps.  Well, if Zuko wants to stop his hunt, to disappear from the eye of the Fire Nation and more importantly the Fire Lord, Iroh will do his best to make that happen, and with a glad heart.  Although, it would have been far more convenient if Zuko had his change of heart before he snuck onto this ship…

“I suppose all men do so at times, especially men of power.  Otherwise, why would there be so many stories of kings and lords in disguise?  Why would there be actors, or the masks of the Fire Festival?  I confess, even I have, hm, occasionally pretended to be someone who is not Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation, General and Dragon of the West.”  He paused.  “Do you wish for such a thing, Nephew?” best to not use his title and remind him of the responsibilities attached to it.

“I… I have, uncle.”  He looks up, alarm clear on his face.  “Not permanently!  Not forever!  Not-- Not even for very long!  But sometimes…”  He looks down again, a blush spreading across skin that is alternately pale, scarred, burned, bruised, and scraped.  “I wish,” he says, very quietly indeed, “I could be someone else, anyone else, just for a day.”

In that moment, Iroh can see all the things that Zuko wishes not to be, not to have.  He wishes not to hurt, not to be hurt, not to have this weight upon him, not to have this duty, not to be banished, not to be so far from home, not to be part of this war, not to have these memories, this history, not to be betrayed over and over again.

Although, that is probably not the way Zuko is thinking about it.

“But just for a day,” says Zuko.  He swallows.  “Just for a day.  I know my duty, Uncle.  I love our people.  It’s my honor to serve them.”

Ah.  Perhaps Zuko is not, quite, ready to run away with him to become nameless, faceless Earth Kingdom peasants, then.  Well, Iroh always knew this was going to be, how should he put it, a work in progress.  Or, no, that probably wasn’t the best way to put that.  He’d have to think on it.  

Metaphors took a lot of work that the youth of today just didn’t appreciate.

Iroh put his hand on Zuko’s shoulder and squeezed it as tightly as he dared.  “I understand, Prince Zuko,” he said.  “But I hope that someday, the spirits will grant your wish.”

Zuko blinked hard, then went back to inhaling his meal.  A few minutes later, he was climbing - practically levitating - his way back up into the vents.  

Iroh leaned back, sighing.  They really shouldn’t make those things as big as they did.  

.

Zuko crawled to the bend in the ventilation shaft that he’d been sleeping in while Zhao sailed north.  It was near the showers, so while it was unpleasantly damp, it was warm and he could sometimes overhear the officers talking.  

He curled up, tucking in his knees and pillowing his head on the small bag of necessities he’d been able to put together.  He should sleep.  He needed to sleep.  

But to sleep, he’d have to forget all the stupid things he had said to his uncle.  What had he been thinking?  Ugh.  He’d hit something, if that wouldn’t give away his position and therefore his presence.  

Well.  It might not, at that.  Ships were noisy.  Still.  

Still.  

Still, he hadn’t been lying.  But he knew better than to just say things like that.  That’s what got him exiled in the first place.  

He forcefully closed his eyes.  He would sleep.  He had to be rested, to break into the north pole and capture the Avatar.  

.

The sun slowly rose over the arctic horizon, waking all of the fleet’s firebenders, even if for only a moment, depending on their shift.  In his stateroom, Admiral Zhao woke slowly, and called for his aides to brief him.  Decks below, General Iroh, already awake, ran through a set of katas he had not yet taught his nephew.  In a ventilation duct near the officer’s showers, a teenage firebender gasped, coming awake all at once.  But this teenager wasn’t Prince Zuko.  Prince Zuko wasn’t on the ship.  Prince Zuko wasn’t anywhere.  

In the ventilation duct, Kuzon of Hing Wa sat up.  

.

(The moral of the story is ‘don’t make wishes when you’re in a spirit tale.’)

[lizzie-queenofmeigas]

So, I saw a post some time ago that was talking about how the Andals and their religion (Faith of the Seven) is more equalitarian than Old Valyria.

I don't remember exactly what their points were.

First of all, we don't know anything about Old Valyria other than that it was advanced and had dragons and practiced slavery. We know a lot about the Andals, even if their information is different depending on who is telling it.

What we know

What we do know of Old Valyria is that women were important enough for Daenys's warnings to be heeded by her father.

We know that women had enough freedom to go in a three year expedition trip with their dragon in a whole other continent.

We do know that they had female goddesses.

We do know that women were dragonriders just like the men.

We do know that men often had to marry their sisters to inherit.

We know that they ruled together.

What we can deduce

We can deduce that women were allowed to be scholars — Daenys wrote a book about her prophecies.

We can deduce that women could be warriors — Visenya was renowned for her swordsmanship and had a sword of her own that may have been made for her. There is no record of Aegon or any valyrian man finding this weird.

We can deduce that a brother needed to marry their sister to accede to inherit — We know Daenys married her brother Gaemon and their children too married and were said to rule together. Aegon had to marry Visenya for duty. Aegon "the uncrowned" had to marry his eldest sister Rhaena.

We can deduce that they had similar rights — Again, they ruled together. There was no difference between Aegon, Rhaenys and Visenya other than he was the one crowned. The three conquerors had pretty much the same power.

Why did Aegon wore the crown instead of Visenya?

Visenya was the one to crown Aegon, this is important to note. We don't know how long exactly they were planning the conquest, but this may have been something they talked about. They were going to rule over a kingdom of deeply misogynistic people, they may have agreed to give Aegon the crown and introduce more progressive ideas later.

My thinking is that after being crowned and being called king, it got to Aegon's head. He stopped heading Visenya's advice and started treating her worse. He started to accept the Andals ideals because it gave him more power, even marrying his thirteen year old son to a twenty three year old woman only because the Andals were scandalised with the union of Rhaena and Maegor.

The union of Rhaena and Maegor would have made it difficult for Aegon "the uncrowned" to acced the throne (or a future son) as Aegon I and the Andals probably wanted.

This is not exactly new, men jumping at the opportunity to have more power and betraying their female companions. This has happened many times in our own history and it happened later with Jaehaerys.

Other Theories

The Dragonbinder has an inscription that says: "I am Dragonbinder ... No mortal man shall sound me and live ... Blood for fire, fire for blood."

No mortal man. This can easily be a "Lord of the Rings" situation and if it is it means women had much more power in Old Valyria than the Andal or First Men women.

Aenys and Maegor may not be Aegon's, this could mean that the valyrians didn't mind bloodlines continuing by women's children (the lords of Westeros voted against this in the Great Council of 101) which is already a huge improvement of what the Andals do even in the face of their own laws.

Conclusion

Valyrians did have better regard for women that the Andals or the First Men.

I don't trust the Andals, they lie a lot about their own history and are religious zealots.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Entertain us with some stupid Bonaparte facts plz.

Hahaha I've answered a lot of these, so there will be some repeats, and I'm not sure any of these could as stupid facts but they're all things I enjoy thinking about from time to time:

I love that he was described as having a lovely smile that could change the weather if he was turning on the charm (also his eyes were described as one of his chief charms). People also described him as having more the air of a scholar than that of a soldier.

That said, Napoleon didn't do small talk so much as a full-frontal barrage of questions which uh...isn't intimidating at all.

Napoleon liked to say he was born on a rug embroidered with an image of Caesar but Letizia apparently replied to that story with “is it not enough that he was born, but it must be upon a rug decorated with Caesar?” (or something to that effect). 

One time on St. Helena he got Barry O'Meara champagne drunk and teased the man about this lass he was in love with and was like "you're in your thirties, you need to get married!" and O'Meara was like "ummmm I've no money and am not ready" and Napoleon was like "nonsense".

In general, Napoleon loved playing matchmaker. He wasn't very good at it but he loved it anyway. He was an eighty-year old nosey, gossipy, match-scheming grandma at heart.

Napoleon enjoyed snuff but wasn't super graceful taking it so there'd be snuff powder on his suit coats sometimes. He would also fidget with the snuff boxes and regularly lost them.

Indeed, Napoleon was one of life's fidgeters. Which, coincidentally, made him difficult to shave. Constant recounts in his memoir:

[Napoleon] frequently talked, read the papers, moved round on his chair, turned suddenly, and I was obliged to use the greatest precaution to avoid wounding him. … When by chance he did not talk, he remained immovable and stiff as a statue, and one could not make him lower, raise, or bend his head, as would have been necessary in order to accomplish the task more easily. He had also one singular mania, which was to have only one side of his face lathered and shaved at a time. He would never let me pass to the other side until the first was finished.

One of Marie-Louise’s pet names for him was Nana and she would call him that in front of courtiers and Very Important People and Napoleon rolled with it. 

His favourite book was the epic poem Ossian because Napoleon liked campy over-the-top epics. Joseph would later try and claim his brother's favourite book was the Illiad (if I remember right) because Ossian was considered trash literature at the time. Like if Napoleon's favourite book was Game of Thrones and his brother is like "no, trust me, it's War and Peace. It's Real Literature~~. It's Dante's Inferno. It's anything that is More Serious. Please believe me".

He was a terrible rider, though he rode " very boldly and recklessly" (according to one of his secretaries). Napoleon loved to Go Fast - bit of an adrenaline junky I suspect. He was also known to ride for hours - the stamina was insane - and he was not easily deterred by treacherous terrain.

He was described by a cavalry officer as riding "like a butcher". Quote from Ernst von Odeleben, the cavalry officer in question:

Napoleon himself remarked at one time…that he had learned a great many things, but had never been able to make himself a complete horseman. His make was not indeed calculated for equitation. When he galloped, he sat carelessly in the saddle, generally holding the reins in his right hand, while the upper part of his body was jumbled, as the horse went on, forward, or on one side, and his left hand hung negligently down. If the horse made a false step, he immediately lost his balance. [...] As he was not a good horseman, all those who approached him mounted upon a mare were obliged to be cautious that they were not thrown out of the saddle by the capers of his horse. [...] Napoleon was passionately fond of going across the fields, without letting any person know whither he bent his course. The chasseurs of the guard were so accustomed to this habit, that by the first direction which he took, they became perfectly well acquainted with the place towards which he was going. He was so fond of bye-ways and paths, that finding himself, on several occasions, in craggy places, or impracticable roads, he was obliged to alight: it was always a disagreeable thing to him to hear of difficulties or impossibilities…and he seldom abandoned his intention til he was himself convinced of the impossibility of proceeding. 

Naturally, Napoleon did take some epic falls off his horses from time to time. This is the man who would trip and break his face if he wasn't careful.

Napoleon would sing upon occasion, though he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. Songs he liked included various tunes from the opera Henri IV, also the Marseillaise, various songs from the revolution &c. One of his favourite composers was Giovanni Paisiello.

---

I shall stop there. Thank you for the ask!

[mikathemonster]

"ashes to ashes"

author's note: Wow! This is so crazy, y'all. It was an absolute crazy ride collaborating for this year's THAUC event, and I can't believe @spinehandbag and I actually got it done! Between university and the craziness of both of our lives, we really created an awesome story that I can't believe we get to share with you all. I'll be sure to link spine's artwork for this piece the moment they post it on Tumblr :)

Pairing: Fíli / Gender-Neutral Reader

Word Count: 21,440

summary: When Y/N is put into grave danger after their father's foolish deeds, Gandalf brings them to Erebor to seek refuge. With their whole life turned upside down, they have to learn to navigate a new way of living while a price is placed on their head.

content warnings: violence, blood, alcohol, injuries, angst, it's just a lot of sad shit

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust. All we have is each other’s trust.”

You had known this creed since you were a babe; your mother was the first person to teach it to you, explaining the importance of your family and heritage. It sounded like a nursery rhyme to you: a fun little tune to hum to yourself. But you knew better now.

Thirty years. That’s how long your father had been serving the Steward of Gondor as an advisor. In all that time, he had helped so many people. He had secured a good life for your mother and yourself, high among the nobles of Gondor. He had provided so much for you two, even going so far as to enroll you alongside the highest scholars money could buy. It was from these tutors that you learned to harness your passion for painting and art.

Five years. That’s how long he had been driving your family into debt, unbeknownst to you. But it didn’t take you long to figure out that something was amiss, even if you weren’t sure what it was; your mother’s hushed whispers when she would fight with your father were more than enough fuel to the crackling fire of your family’s ails. It seemed your father’s position was the only thing that kept your family afloat, but that did little to calm the nerves of your parents these days. Your home life had become rather tense, prompting you to wander the city more often than you were with your parents.

Three days. That’s how long you had been traveling for, the rain pelting down on you and your travel companion as you made your way north of Gondor. Your partner, an old fellow dressed in gray with a strangely shaped hat, became known to you as Gandalf. You had only been acquainted with him for a few days, beginning when he showed up on your family’s doorstep, a melancholy presence about him. You hadn’t understood the situation back then; you were still trying to wrap your head around it now.

It had been a quiet night in your home when he arrived, bringing a sharp knock to your door that your father answered to. As soon as your father saw him, something shifted in the air. You had never seen your father so vulnerable before; even in his mistakes, he was too proud to admit defeat. Gandalf had invited himself into the parlor, speaking quietly to your mother and father while the fire in the hearth crackled on. Peering through the door, you had tried to eavesdrop, but your mother’s soft sobs were enough to let you know the severity of your circumstances.

Your father, in his efforts to right his wrongs, was now in debt to several people he had loaned from, all of which came from notoriously criminal backgrounds. Even in his effort to make things right, all he had made were enemies. As collateral now, it had come to Gandalf’s attention that the man your father was the most indebted to had placed a bounty on your head as incentive. Your life now hung in the balance because of your father’s selfish thinking. It was either your head or your father’s debt.

You hated your father for bringing this upon your family. You hated that you now had to travel with this old and beaten-down wizard to somewhere unknown simply for the sake of your safety. And worst of all, you hated that when it came time to say your goodbyes, your mother and father hadn’t even given you the courtesy of explaining just how fucked up life would be for you starting now. Your mother was too grieved, and your father was too proud.

“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust. All we have is each other’s trust.”

None of that rang true in your heart anymore; your family’s creed meant nothing to you. You couldn’t trust the people who had raised you anymore and you barely even knew this gray man who led your journey. But for now, even despite your wishes, Gandalf was all you had.

He was the only one who had given you the common kindness to explain what was going on. According to him, the man who had placed a bounty on you operated out of Gondor, meaning that your home was no longer a safe space. Without explaining why, Gandalf told you that if your assassination were to prove successful, it would mean an all-out war within Gondor. You had never thought your life would hold so much weight; you were a noble, but you kept to yourself when it came to society. Though you didn’t appreciate the morbid thought, surely your death would mean very little to the infrastructure of such a mighty city as Minas Tirith?

But Gandalf thought otherwise and strongly enough to lead you farther north than you had ever been: past the Brown Lands and trailing along the outskirts of Mirkwood, now following the path of the River Running. Many times in your journey, you asked him where you were headed, the toil of the path wearing you down.

“To Erebor, my dear Y/N,” he had spoken. “There’s a king there who owes me quite the favor.”

Two and a half months had passed by and at last, you were in Erebor. Deep and dark stone walls welcomed you inside as Gandalf brought you into the dwarven kingdom, but you felt no emotion other than dread. You knew very well that this would have to become your new home; Gandalf had informed you many times that this was the safest place you could hide. As long as you resided here, none of your father’s enemies could find you. But even within the brilliant glittering caverns of Erebor, you felt lonely. You couldn’t call this foreign place your home, but you knew Gondor would never be fit to have you again.

Gandalf, however, could never have been more welcomed to your eyes. Almost every person here knew his name and face, many of whom attempted to stop and chat with him. How long was he staying? Had he met with Thorin yet? When would he be leaving? Would they see another grand show of fireworks?

That last question was asked the most, which made it the most confusing to you. In your eyes, he was simply a graying man with too much wisdom (but not enough to share) and a love for smoking his pipeweed. 

Gandalf didn’t seem to have much time for these questions though, often explaining that he had matters with the king to discuss. Matters that involved you, you presumed. And that explanation was all it took for dwarrows to stop their conversations and let you through. It was a small but comforting sentiment you appreciated.

At last, they found themselves in the council room. A long table, surrounded by chairs, ran down the middle. At the head of the table was a seat a little more grand with the crown of Durin carved into the top. The room expertly blended the natural beauty of the rock with the bold geometric patterns of dwarven architecture. But while this was all breathtaking, it only heightened your anxieties, unsure of what would happen once the king arrived. 

You had heard of this king, Thorin Oakenshield. Armed with his father’s secret key, he and his men had driven Smaug out of Erebor and reclaimed the kingdom for their brethren five years ago. Everyone in Middle-Earth knew of this tale. It was said to have been an impossible task. But the dwarves of Erebor were strong in might and in will; that much you understood. 

“What’s going to happen to me now?” You asked in the silence of the hall, interrupting Gandalf as he smoked his pipe. He seemed to be at much more ease than he had been on the journey. 

“I can persuade Thorin to let you reside here,” he puffed. “No man from Gondor would think to step foot in these halls so soon after a dragon’s demise. It will buy you time for now.”

“How long am I to stay here?” Your voice seemed to echo in the empty room.

Gandalf frowned, setting his pipe down. “That I am unsure of.”

You kept your gaze fixed on the table, holding back quiet tears. If you spoke again, you were sure you’d start crying. You didn’t want to be seen crying in front of the king or anyone else for that matter. This was your new reality now. You would have to live amongst the dwarven warriors and craftsmen of Erebor.

Gandalf leaned in, sensing your distress. “Keep a strong will, Y/N. These people will help, I’m sure.”

The oak doors of the conference hall creaked open and your attention was soon fixated on the four figures that made their way inside, seating themselves at the table. 

Leading the way was Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. He took his place in the ornate chair at the head of the table, facing Gandalf who sat across from him. His dark hair held streaks of silver that hinted at his age and strength, and the multitude of furs decorating his body simply showed off his regal status. He was an intimidating presence.

Behind him entered an older dwarf, whose white hair grew so long it seemed to touch the floor. He kept himself close to Thorin, standing behind his chair.

And lastly entered two younger dwarves, though their age seemed to defy the battle-worn glint in their eyes. Surely these two were the princes Gandalf had mentioned on your journey.

“Gandalf, you old sod!” The white-haired dwarf smiled. “How long has it been now?”

“Gandalf!” The brown-haired prince grinned. “We thought we’d never see you again!”

“Too long, Balin. And Kíli, you look well.” The wizard replied, earning a gruff hum from Thorin.

“Too long, indeed.” He spoke, his voice deep and rich as it echoed in the room. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure of how to feel with such an authoritative aura emanating from the king. “Why have you come now?”

It seemed the conversation was moving straight to business. 

Gandalf took one last puff from his pipe before he put out the embers within. “I need your help.”

Thorin raised a brow, curious. “What could the Gray Wizard need that I could possibly give him?”

“Refuge, Thorin.” Gandalf said. “That is what I seek.”

“Who’s after you?” Balin asked, concern lacing his brow.

Gandalf shook his head. “Not for me, I’m afraid.” He turned to you, now introducing you to the group.

“This is Y/N. They’ve been my companion for a short time now as I have come in the hopes you will provide them refuge.”

“Refuge?” The blond-haired prince now spoke up. “From who?”

“Nobody of concern to you, I can assure you,” Gandalf said, but Thorin seemed displeased.

“You ask me to provide protection for someone we don’t know,” he said. “And you can’t give us the courtesy of knowing who their enemy is?”

“He’s a very powerful man who wouldn’t think to step foot on your mountain, Thorin Oakenshield. He’s of no danger to you.” Gandalf frowned, getting upset with the King’s stubborn nature. 

This meeting was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment; you wished you could melt into your seat and disappear. Hadn’t Gandalf said the king owed him a favor? Why were you being met with such hostility? Why wouldn't Gandalf tell the King who was after you? These were the questions flooding your mind as you kept quiet to save your own skin.

“Five years, Gandalf.” The king began. “That’s how long our doors have been open to my people and the Men of Dale. In that time, we’ve been rebuilding everything that the dragon took from us. Our families have only just begun to heal. And amongst all this, you now ask me to harbor a foreign fugitive within our walls–”

“They are no fugitive!” Gandalf stood up abruptly, causing you to jump in your seat as suddenly it felt as though all of the lights went out, creating a harrowing shadow over the gray wizard. And just as quickly as the darkness had come, it left.

Gandalf drew a breath. “They’ve done nothing wrong. They’re a friend.” 

“Thorin,” Balin whispered. “It would be wise to help the fellow out. Think of all Gandalf has done for us.”

Thorin Oakenshield sat silently, staring down Gandalf with an unreadable expression. The princes looked to the king, biting their own tongues as the silence hung in the air. No matter what would happen, they would stand with their uncle. Gandalf was a friend, but the king was right; Erebor had bigger priorities right now.

Feeling quite small, you brought your gaze back to the marble cut table. Your life hung in the balance with this decision, and yet it felt as though it had already ended; the tension in the room tightened around your throat like a noose. What good would a hostile refuge be in the face of death?

Gandalf held his position, staring down Thorin intently. You knew nothing of their history, but already it seemed that they were quite similar in their stubborn nature. And after a pause that felt like a lifetime, the King finally spoke.

“Three months.” He nodded. “And then I want them gone.”

“Now, Thorin–” Gandalf interjected, but was shushed by the King’s raised hand.

“We will provide them refuge for three months. And in that time, a bodyguard will be assigned to them; I’ll have them taught how to fight and fend for themself.” He turned to you, his piercing gaze bringing you away from the marble. “You won’t get far in the wild without those skills.”

Gandalf cleared his throat. “And then what?”

“And then I want them gone.” Thorin spoke. “You helped me once, Gandalf, but I have a kingdom to protect now. A home to rebuild.I have little time to deal with the affairs of men. This is as much as I can offer as repayment. Do we have a deal?”

Gandalf frowned at this, seeming displeased in the terms and conditions of protecting your life. Three months was such a short span of time for the wizard; he was unsure if it would even be enough time to provide you ample protection. You almost hoped he would rescind the offer, not feeling very welcomed by the dwarrow’s hostility.

“It is agreed,” Gandalf nodded. And so it was set. You would spend the next three months hiding in Erebor from an enemy you didn’t even have a name to associate with. An enemy whose secrecy seemed protected by Gandalf. 

Thorin stood with the two princes and Balin, all who pushed their seats back in. “Y/N, I shall leave Fíli here to show you to your quarters. Do not hesitate to ask him any questions you may have. Gandalf, I pray you will find ample hospitality for the duration of your stay.”

And then they were gone, leaving you alone with Gandalf once more. Fíli, who you now recognized as the blonde-haired prince, stood silently outside of the room.

And just as they all left, you broke down into tears. Your voice cracked with sobs as your new reality finally began to set in for you. Gandalf walked over to you, lending a comforting hand on your shoulder as you let it all out. All the stress and anxiety and panic from the last two and half months culminated inside you, and it seemed this decision the King had made was the moment that finally broke you. 

“I can never go home, can I?” You cried, your voice cracking. 

“No, I’m afraid not.” Gandalf shook his head, his hand rubbing your shoulder in an effort to console you. “Not for now, at least.”

You sobbed, your hands wiping away tears which were quickly being refreshed. “Then when?”

Gandalf paused for a moment, thinking. “I shall ride for Gondor at first light. I can assure you, dear Y/N, that I won’t rest until I help your father to find these men. But until that happens,” he crouched down to meet you at eye level. “You must accept that this is your new life now. And it won’t be easy.”

“I think I need to be alone,” you spoke softly, your head in your hands. You felt Gandalf’s hand leave your shoulder, hearing the door shut shortly after. Tears continued to fall from your eyes, staining your clothes and wetting your skin in your despair. For the first time in your entire journey, you let everything out.

You hated all of this. You hated Thorin’s stubborn and hostile speaking. You hated that Gandalf refused to tell you the full picture. And most of all, you hated that you felt like you had to build yourself back up from the ground up. It was as if in all of this mess, you had lost a sense of who you were. And you hated that, too.

“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust. In times of change, one must adjust.”

It felt silly having a parody of your family creed bounce around in your mind, but it seemed to be the only calming thought that aided in grounding you back to your senses. A makeshift phrase to fit your situation. Minutes passed by as you finally finished your weeping and tried to wipe away the evidence on your face, only to be interrupted by a soft knocking on the oak doors.

“Just a moment.” Your voice came out a little strained, answering the knocks as if you lived here. You scoffed at the irony.

Pulling yourself together, you sighed at the state of your tear-stained clothes and puffy eyes. If the prince hadn’t known you were crying, it would surely be obvious now. But you were beyond caring right now, too focused on staying calm. You opened the oak doors, shuffling back into the main hall where the prince stood.

“Is everything alright?” He sounded concerned. You sighed.

“As fine as I can be, for now,” you spoke. He nodded in understanding, quickly moving the conversation along.

“I’ll show you your quarters, if you’re willing.” His voice was like crushed velvet and pleasing to the ears. He kept it soft, which was a nice change of pace from Thorin and Gandalf’s hostile tones.

“Please, lead the way,” you gestured ahead of yourself, obediently following behind him as he led you through the twists and turns of the city. There wasn’t much else you could do, given your current state.

Minutes later, you were sitting in your new lodgings for the next three months. It was similar in design to the halls and rooms you had already seen, full of deep golden accents and dwarven motifs carved into the walls. You were silently thankful that it was furnished, taking note of the solid oak nightstand that stood next to your canopy bed, the posts of which were carved down from the ceiling. Candles lit the room well for your eyes, and if you weren’t in such a dreaded state, you would’ve commented on the room’s majesty. 

“Is it to your liking?” The blonde prince asked, and you turned around to meet his gaze again. 

“Yes, thank you,” you said. 

“I can bring some more linens and blankets by later tonight,” he gestured to the bed, which only had a single sheet covering it. “We’re not too used to holding guests here, not with the construction going on.” He spoke with a kind but matter-of-fact tone. 

“That would be nice,” you nodded, your mind not fully focused on the conversation. 

“My uncle will have your guard issued to you within the night,” he continued. “You can refer any of your questions to them, unless you have any you’d like to ask now?”

You looked down at your clothes, noting how sullied they were from your long journey. You had only packed one extra set and those too were soiled. “I don’t suppose it would be too much to ask for some new clothes?”

The prince nodded. “I’ll be sure to put an order in when I retrieve your linens. Is that all?”

You wanted to inquire about bathing as well, not caring for the way that your sweat and dirt clung to your skin. But you held your tongue, opting to ask someone in the morning. For now, the small wash basin in your room would help.

You shook your head. “I suppose so. Thank you…?”

You realized you didn’t know his name. You knew the King had mentioned it earlier, but it seemed that in your distress you couldn’t remember. Luckily, he seemed to understand you. 

“Fíli,” he bowed. “At your service.”

“Fíli, yes,” you mused. “Thank you, Fíli.”

He gave a small smile at your thanks. “I’ll be off, then.” 

You nodded in acknowledgment, watching as he left your doorway and disappeared down the vast hallway. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escaped your lips, and you looked back at your room to accustom yourself to your new surroundings. 

On the other end of your room was a solid oak chest for storage, seated next to a tall candelabra that stood tall like a coat hanger. In the corner was a small washing basin to rinse your face or cleanse your hands. Lastly, the floor was covered in furs that protected your feet from the cold stone floors. You wondered what a royal bedroom looked like in this city; you’d like to compare them out of curiosity. 

Now forced to face the silence as you awaited your guard to greet you (or Fíli to return with more blankets), you collapsed onto your new bed, the ache in your body calling to you after the day’s long events. It had been so long since you had slept in a proper bed; there had been very few inns along the length of your journey with Gandalf. 

Your mind wandered to thoughts about the gray wizard. Who was he, really? You had never heard of Gandalf the Gray, but his presence was certainly known to your father. You could still remember the pale look in his eyes when he opened the doors to that strange man over two months ago; you had never seen your father so spooked in all your years. 

And then there was the matter of the bounty on your head. Who was the man responsible? And why had he chosen you rather than your father for such a cruel fate? You reckoned it was to act as incentive, urging your father to pay his debt faster. There was no use in asking Gandalf for the truth; you doubted he would be willing to share after putting up a wall to Thorin’s questions. But even these small speculations didn’t calm your nerves. 

The sound of running footsteps snapped you out of your reverie as you pushed yourself out of your bed to peer out of your still-open doorway. To your surprise, the brown-haired prince from before seemed to be bolting after a much-older dwarf who looked supremely unhappy.

The new dwarf was taller (though that wasn’t saying much) and stockier, his muscles littered with scars and tattoos that showed off his strength and his background. His tattooed head had been recently shaved, and his beard had been braided into his sideburns to make way for what seemed like a permanent scowl on his face.

You quickly disappeared from your doorway, out of sight as you listened in on their conversation.

“Dwalin, wait!” The young prince called after him, desperation laced in his tone. “You know that I can’t possibly do it!”

“I shan’t be summoned for something asinine like babysitting, Kíli.” The older dwarf, Dwalin, grunted. “Don’t bother with your uncle, I’ll tell him myself.”

“Well then who’s supposed to keep watch? It’s only for three months!” Kíli laughed as he spoke but it didn’t seem out of humor.

“Aye, and three months too long, for my tastes,” Dwalin huffed, his footsteps now passing by your door. “Have your brother do it, or Ori. The lad’s old enough for something like this now.”

“Ori?” Kíli scoffed in disbelief. “He might have fought a dragon, but he’s no bodyguard.” His pace quickened, passing your door shortly after. “Why do you think Thorin chose you?”

“I don’t care to know, I’m telling him my mind.” Dwalin held firm in his tone. “If you can’t do it, then find someone else and make it their problem. We’ve got too much to do these days and I won’t waste it on some stupid task like this.”

Dwalin continued on but you could hear Kíli stop in his tracks as he let out a frustrated groan. Your stomach turned at the idea of having someone like Dwalin be your bodyguard, and silently thanked the gods that he refused you. Anyone with an attitude like that wouldn’t make you feel very safe, that’s for sure.

You began slowly closing your door, not wanting to eavesdrop any longer when you heard a new set of footsteps that were coming from where Kíli and Dwalin had just been. You halted in your movement, not wanting the newcomer to notice your door shutting. You hid behind your door now, listening again, mentally scolding yourself for this childish behavior. 

Kíli gasped. “Oh, you won’t believe how good you are with timing, brother!” His footsteps passed by your door once again, heading towards the other person, who you now knew was Fíli. You figured he had returned to bring you the blankets. 

“So I’ve been told,” he chuckled. “What are you getting at?” His footsteps halted and you assumed they were standing in the middle of the hall now. 

“Dwalin won’t do it.” Kíli said. 

“And what exactly won’t he do?” Fíli asked for clarification. 

“Thorin assigned him to be the bodyguard for the noble from earlier; he flat out refused.” Kíli huffed, annoyed. 

Fíli paused, thinking. “Does Uncle know about this?”

“He will soon at the rate Dwalin was stomping away. He tried to push it off onto me!” Kíli spoke the last part in a hushed whisper, as if he had taken personal offense.

“And I’m assuming you declined?” 

“I haven’t got the time, you know me.” Kíli scoffed. “Dwalin said to have you or Ori be put to the task.”

“Ori?” Fíli laughed. “The lad’s too busy restoring our records. Besides, he’s better armed with a pen than a sword—“

“Exactly what I said, more or less. You’d be a fine candidate, though.” You could hear the cheeky tone in the younger prince’s voice as he tried to push the task onto his brother’s plate.

“You jest, brother.” Fíli was not amused.

“I do not!”

Fíli sighed for a moment, his voice quiet. “Will Dwalin really deny his duty?”

A silence hung between them, as if they both had silently answered the question. A part of you hoped Fíli would agree to being your bodyguard. Though you knew none of them, he seemed like the most well fit. Dwalin was much too angry. Kíli seemed eager to not take up the task, either.

“You owe me for this,” Fíli huffed. 

“So you’ll do it?” Kíli seemed quite relieved at the decision. 

“I haven’t got the time to deal with an angry Dwalin right now and I have even less time for your squabbling, Kí. So fine. You can go tell Uncle.”

“What, and piss him off?” Kíli seemed devastated. 

“Consider it your payment for shuffling it onto me. Now go before I change my mind.” Fíli stood firm against his brother, and soon you heard footsteps fading away. 

A sigh rang through the hall and Fíli’s footsteps continued your direction, prompting you to quickly flee to your bed. The last thing you needed was for these dwarves to think you were spying on them after begging for refuge. 

Three soft knocks forced you to look inconspicuous as Fíli opened the cracked door. “Here are some more blankets.”

You cleared your throat quickly, trying to regain your composure. “Ah, thank you again.” You stood back up, walking over to him as you received the linens. “Oh, and the clothes?”

“I’ll be sure to fetch you some first thing in the morning, when the market opens back up.” He gave a short smile after bowing again. “I’ve been assigned to look after you starting today.”

“As my bodyguard?” You raised a brow, feigning innocence. 

“Watchman, trainer, bodyguard. That’s what I’m to provide, yes.” He nodded. 

“I see.” You looked awkwardly at the empty bed in your room. “You don’t have to share—“

“Oh, not at all,” he quickly answered, catching wind of your intent. “But my room won't be far, so don’t hesitate to call on me for anything. Well, mostly anything. I do appreciate my sleep here and there.”

You gave a weak laugh to his joke, still trying to ease your stress as you processed all of this information. “And where exactly is your room?”

He stepped out of the doorway, pointing down the hall. “The first right and then the second door on the left.”

You mused the directions under your breath. “First right—“

“You’ll have time to remember, don’t worry. I’ll show you tomorrow when we go to the tailor’s.” He peered back inside your room, checking everything. “Gandalf says you’ll be safe here, so there’s no need to rush.”

“Are you close with him?” You asked. 

“Close enough to trust him. He speaks in riddles but he’s helped my family greatly.” Another nod from the blonde, this one followed by a soft smile. “He means well, despite his temper.”

You nodded, not having any more to say. How late was it at this point? The ache in your body was ringing in your bones, lulling you to sleep as you tried to stay awake. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked, raising a brow. 

“It’s late,” was all you could say. He hummed in agreement. 

“I’ll leave you, then. I’ll be sure to wake you up first thing in the morning so we can fetch you some new clothes.”

You felt your head growing heavier and heavier with each nod, finding it harder to speak as sleep called to you. Before you realized it, you and Fíli had exchanged goodbyes and he had shut your door, retiring to his own room. 

This was your new life now.

Morning came all too quickly as you awoke to three knocks, just like yesterday. Their sound was louder than last nights, as any wake up call would be. You sprang up, bewildered and bleary-eyed. You always had trouble sleeping in new beds and this one was no exception; you had spent most of your night staring at the ceiling and contemplating your new circumstances.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Fíli’s voice called through the wooden door and you stumbled out of bed to open it, a slight groan leaving your throat as your body cracked from soreness.

“Yes, sorry,” you apologized, opening the door. A part of you was thankful you were still wearing last night’s clothes rather than sleeping naked. “Is it morning already?”

“It’s noon, actually. I figured I’d let you sleep in. I managed to pick up some tunics and trousers for you to try on and see if they fit. The trousers may run a little short on you,” he kept explaining, showing you the clothes he had brought.

Noon?! It was that late in the day already? Your mind was reeling with a headache from lack of sleep and you groaned, reaching a hand to your temple.

“Are they not to your liking?” Fíli raised a brow. “There’s no point in being picky, you know–”

“What? No, not at all,” you waved him off. “Sorry… I’ve never been made for mornings.”

“Or afternoons, it seems.” He frowned. “I’ll leave these here with you, then.”

You took the clothes from him with a nod, staring at the naturally dyed linens in your hands. “I don’t suppose I could bathe before I change into these, could I?”

He cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. He seemed either willing to leave or as if he were reaching the end of his patience with you. You didn’t like either option.

“I could show you around to the baths, if you’d like.”

“Baths? There’s multiple?” You raised a brow, confused.

“Well yes, they’re public. There has to be multiple for a city like this. It would wreak havoc if there was only one.” He looked at you as if you were the crazy one, and it wasn’t making the situation any less awkward.

“And they’re open right now?” You spoke slowly, trying to process this information.

“Of course they are, they never close. That would be even worse than having only one.” 

You didn’t have the energy to even inquire as to why that would be worse, not wanting your ignorance to be seen as stupidity. “Are they busy this time of day?”

Fíli looked away, thinking to himself before he answered. “If you’re looking for privacy, then you’re better off going in the wee hours when everyone’s asleep. I believe that should answer your question better?”

You nodded. “It does… Would you be willing to take me later?”

He sighed, pondering the idea. It was certainly a tall ask for a dwarf who had already told you he likes his beauty sleep. “Tonight. But learn the path so you can take yourself next time. Don’t need anyone getting any wrong ideas, least of all my brother.”

You smiled in relief at the thought of a bath. You could certainly tough up the dirt for a few more hours. “You have my thanks.”

“Anyways, it’s best we make use of the day for you. Uncle told me to show you around today so you don’t get lost.” He nodded, shifting again from foot to foot. He was eager to do more than just watch after some stranger, you could tell. A part of you felt bad he had gotten stuck with watching you, but this was what Thorin’s terms were. 

“Understood. I’ll get changed then. I’ll be out in a moment.” You shut the door on him, laying your new clothes out on your bed. Even if you couldn’t bathe right away, wearing clean clothes would certainly help boost your spirits. 

There was certainly one thing you appreciated about dwarven clothes, and that was the sheer size of them. You were certain that any of these tunics would fit a tad oversized, which was a nice break from your form-fitting clothes from back home. You slipped your alabaster-toned tunic on, the sleeves running a bit short on you as you adjusted the fabric. And the pants were no better; they stopped halfway down your calves. But you found the odd fit charming rather than upsetting, glad to simply be wearing something clean. 

You tucked your tunic in, tying your old belt around the waist to keep your pants from sagging or possibly falling, and for the first time in your journey, you actually felt comfortable. Indeed, now that you had spent a night in your new home, you were beginning to see things in a much cozier light, despite how scary the new surroundings could seem. 

You opened the door, stepping out into the hall with Fíli, now a little more ready for the day despite the ache in your body and the headache wearing on. 

“Lead the way.”

Hours had gone by and Fíli had dragged you nearly the entire length of the kingdom. At least, that’s what it felt like. The entire day seemed to go on with him showing you the forges or the market or the grocer, spewing information at you like some tour guide from hell. Granted, that wasn’t to say that Fíli was hellish, but rather you were finding it impossible to retain all off this information in one day.

Now you two were headed to the Library of Records, where all of Erebor’s historical texts resided. All the hallways seemed to blend in with one another, but Fíli didn’t seem too bothered by your aloofness. You were grateful he was being patient with you, or as patient as a dwarf on a mission could be. 

“You’ll have to start pulling your weight in some way here, otherwise you’ll starve,” he explained as you two turned a corner.

“As in?”

“You’ll need to get a job, surely.” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek, thinking. “I don’t have any skills that would be of use here. I’m not a blacksmith or a miner or even a farmer.”

“Then what did you do back home?” Fíli raised a brow, shocked.

His question seemed to shock you as well. Indeed, what did you do? Now that you actually thought about it, you never had to do anything; your father had provided everything for you. Other than wandering the streets to escape the tension in your home, you didn't do much in your youth besides reading and painting.

“I painted?” You said, but it came out as more of a question, as if you were asking if your answer was acceptable.

It seemed enough to surprise Fíli. “Portraits?”

“And landscapes. I especially liked painting flowers.” The thought brought a small smile to your face.

“Were you any good?” He asked.

“My mother thought so.” You muttered, a bittersweet feeling tugging at your heart now. You knew there was no longer a home for you in Gondor, but it didn’t stop you from missing parts of it.

“That’s good, then.” He nodded, leading you up a staircase.

“It is?” You asked.

“There’s plenty of us here that don’t have the money to pay for things, especially after so much of the King’s Vault went towards construction costs. The economy here has been a tad unorthodox since the days of the dragon, so many people trade instead.” He explained. You quickly caught on that he gestured with his hands often while speaking.

“Trade?”

“Like for example, this morning I traded a dagger I had made for the clothes you’re wearing.”

You looked down at your outfit, now seeing it in a new light. “And that was enough?”

He nodded. “People need things, especially in Erebor and Dale. The dragon took so much from us that we’ve learned to take what we can get. I reckon you could trade some of your paintings if you got back into practice.”

You hummed, rolling the idea over in your mind. “You really think so?”

“Oh, absolutely. Especially the elder dwarrowdams at the market, they can’t resist a new decoration for their homes.” He grinned at the thought. “We can get you some supplies later.”

You gave a soft smile in return. “I’d like that very much.”

The day was truly wearing you down now; between all the walking and your headache, you felt absolutely spent. You and Fíli had already visited the market twice, where he had traded more of his own wares to buy you some basic painting supplies. There hadn’t been very much to choose from, but even the small colors he had supplied you with were more than you could have asked for on your second day here. 

Now, thankfully, he had given you a break from walking after you subtly voiced your complaints, letting you two enjoy the quiet and solitude of one of Erebor’s many libraries. 

“This one has already been restored,” Fíli explained. “Nobody will bother you here.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing your temples as you tried to mitigate your pain. “Thank you, Fíli.”

He gave a silent nod before setting his things down at the scribing table you had sat at and meandering the shelves, reading the spines of tomes and scriptures that decorated the shelves. 

Guilt picked at your brain as you studied his moving figure. Eavesdropping on his conversation last night hadn’t given you any sort of solace with the fact that this wasn’t a position he had chosen. Then again, any bodyguard assigned to you wouldn’t have been because they chose it; it was the King’s orders. It was the deal provided to you and Gandalf by Thorin. But something about the situation still didn’t sit right in your mind. The last thing you wanted to be was a burden to another stranger.  

“Fíli,” you mused under your breath as you thought, but it hadn’t been quiet enough.

Fíli peered around a bookshelf. “Did you say something?”

Your mouth hung open for a second, searching for words. Perhaps this was as good a time as any to sprinkle in some friendly conversation. 

“Sorry, I was just thinking to myself,” you explained.

“I see,” he nodded. “Anything I should be aware of?”

You thought for a moment, thinking of what you should ask him.

“I suppose I was wondering what you’d be doing if you weren’t here with me,” you said, picking at your cuticles as a nervous habit.

“As in my normal day-to-day?” He asked. You nodded, clarifying.

He cleared his throat. “Well let’s see… I think I’m usually with my brother around this time; we’ve been helping with deliveries this week in the Forges.”

“Deliveries?” You set your hands back down, taking interest.

“Meals and supplies, mostly. Though I think Bofur and Nori are helping him out right now.” 

“Are you and your brother close?” 

He smiled, breathing in before he spoke. “More than anything. Though if you ask me, sometimes I’d say we’re too close.”

You raised an eyebrow at this, taking his openness as an opportunity to learn more about him. “How so?

“Sometimes we get each other caught up in rather… tough situations,” he laughed. “One of us is always covering for the other in times of need because we know the other wouldn’t dare say no.”

“Like what?” You smiled at the thought of relying so strongly on someone like a sibling. It certainly must come in handy.

Fíli seemed caught off guard by this question, looking away as he answered. “My brother wasn’t too keen on watching over you, so I took over…”

You already knew that but for some reason, hearing it still hurt a little as guilt ate away at you. Fíli looked back at you and could somehow tell, his expression quickly growing sympathetic.

“It’s nothing personal, I can assure you.” He waved his hands again as he apologized.

You gave a small nod and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I assumed. I wouldn’t be too keen to be in your situation, either.”

A short silence fell over the both of you as the awkward tension set in. What were you supposed to say after that? 

Luckily, Fíli seemed to want to keep the ball rolling. You appreciated that he seemed to be putting in the effort.

“What do you think you’ll paint first, now that you have some supplies?” He gestured to the leather pouch you had set on the table, full of brushes and paints.

You looked down at the pouch, sighing. It was a good question and one you didn’t have an answer to.

“I’m not really sure,” you said. “I usually always used references back home. Sometimes I’d be out for hours just sitting in the field I was painting so I could make it as accurate as possible.”

“You also did portraits though, right? Would my likeness help?” He smirked. “I’ve been told I add charm to any portrait.”

Caught off guard by his sudden flirtatious comment, you rolled your eyes. “Like I said, I prefer landscapes. I also don’t paint people I just met.”

He waved you off. “It was a jest, don’t get all smart with me now.” He sighed, chuckling to himself. “My mother would be grateful if you did, though.”

“Your mother?” You raised a brow.

“She’s attempting to have me start courting some of the dams here, and apparently it starts with a good portrait.” He fiddled with the beaded braids of his beard. “I’ve always preferred someone’s real face, though. Paintings can hide so much.”

“You’ve never seen an honest painting, then.” You scoffed, then immediately caught yourself. “Sorry.”

He smiled softly, looking at you with an expression in his eyes that you couldn’t discern. “Speak your mind, I won’t complain.”

You laughed through your nose, running a hand through your hair as you cracked your neck and stretched. Perhaps this dynamic between you two wasn’t going to be as awkward as you thought.

Now two weeks into your stay, you had found yourself in a familiar routine alongside Fíli. Mornings you had to yourself, often going to the market to find something to eat while Fíli would be running his own errands elsewhere. He’d rejoin you in the afternoon, teaching you how to defend yourself in the privacy of the royal family’s training halls. Then at night, the two of you would share a meal. Kíli would often join you two for dinner before parting ways, usually ending with you retiring to the bathhouses.

Your free time had also allowed you to begin painting again; most of your pieces were studies of your room or the market. Being able to tap back into your hobby had immensely helped you grow comfortable in Erebor, as you allowed yourself to have something familiar in a kingdom so unknown. Just like Fíli suggested, you had even begun trading your artwork at the market, often painting personal portraits that older dwarrowdams requested for their husbands. 

You also began to keep a diary — though you refused to call it that. Rather than being addressed to the journal, you started each entry with ‘Dear Fíli’. It was silly and you hoped he would never find it, but you found it much easier to write your accounts if they were addressed to a person. And being that he was the only person you really spoke to these days, save for his brother, it felt convenient. 

Speaking of Fíli, your attention was drawn from the latest sketch you were working on as three soft knocks sounded on your door. You could tell it was him based on how he knocked at this point, bidding him entry as you erased a small mistake in your outline. 

He opened your door, walking in to admire the sketch behind you. “What’s this one going to be?”

“The dam who runs the spice stall, Bralva,” you spoke, careful to keep your pencil strokes light. 

“I don’t recall her hair being that red,” he mused. 

“She has trouble washing it, it’s much shinier when it’s clean,” you said. He hummed in response. 

“How were your deliveries?” You asked, setting your pencil down finally as you faced him. 

“Short and quick, thankfully,” he sighed. “I had some extra time afterwards, so I managed to stop by Bombur’s bakery and order some pastries.”

You perked up at the idea of sweets. “What kind?”

“That’s for you to know later. Consider them as an incentive for training today.” He grinned. 

You sighed, thinking of how sore you were just from yesterday’s training. You had already quickly learned a lot about Fíli in these two weeks, including his tenacity for training. Even though you knew he was pulling his punches, he was still a formidable enemy. 

“Is it time for that already?” A groan escaped your lips as you thought of dodging his attacks for another two hours. 

“Practice is better when it’s consistent, Y/N. Besides, you’re doing great so far.” He waved your complaints off. “Just think of the fresh pastries!”

Another thing you had learned about Fíli was despite the fact that he was the Crown Prince, he was almost entirely as immature as his younger brother, and even cockier to boot. He always asked when the next portrait you drew would be of him; when you told him you didn’t plan on doing so, he’d claim it was because his looks were too powerful to contain in any art medium. He always said it in a joking tone, of course, but you knew a part of him meant it. It almost made you want to paint him perfectly out of spite. Almost.

“Alright, fine. Let’s get a move on,” you said, putting away your pencils.

“Fix your stance, it’s too weak,” Fíli reminded you for the umpteenth time before kicking your legs from under you.

You crashed onto the floor once again, your body both sore and numb from the repeated falls onto the floor. You were grateful it was carpeted and not the solid stone of the mountain.

“If you would just give me the time to do so,” you trailed off, quickly getting back on your feet in enough time to dodge a swing of his fist. You used the momentum of his swing to push and turn him around, but he only stumbled for a moment.

He was a seasoned warrior, after all. And you were just some cushiony noble who hadn’t fought a day in their life.

“Time is short in combat,” he instructed, quickly dodging a kick from you as you tried to draw him further away from you. “Your opponent isn’t going to give you a time out just because you need to readjust your feet.”

You stepped back as he now approached you, aiming targeted punches that barely missed your chest and shoulders as you haphazardly dodged and redirected them. “Then maybe you should try and teach me something new instead of constantly knocking me do–”

And down went your body back onto the floor due to Fíli’s attacks. You groaned, this time writhing on the ground instead of quickly returning to your feet. You were growing tired of dodging and bobbing and falling and weaving through his assaults.

Perhaps it was out of pity or sympathy, but it seemed Fíli was also ready to take a break as he grabbed his waterskin and took a drink. You watched him from the floor as his back was turned to you; it seemed you finally had an opening now.

Quietly, you crawled nearer until you reached with outstretched arms to grab his ankle, pulling it instantly towards you. With a grunt of surprise, he stumbled back and you were all too ready to express your victory. But gravity took over as he plummeted backwards now, falling on top of you in a tangle of limbs and pain. 

You had won, but at what cost?

You winced in pain, having hit your head on impact as a groan left your lips. You were also now soaked with the blood of your second victim: Fíli’s waterskin. This didn’t feel like a victory. 

Even Fíli needed a moment before he could even move, groaning in pain as he tried to readjust himself off of you. “What was that supposed to be?”

“A small win,” you said, rubbing the back of your head in pain. 

“And was it worth it?” He laughed weakly. 

You rolled your eyes, refusing to look at him. “Oh, shut up.”

Suddenly, you felt a new hand massaging the back of your head. You quickly turned to see Fíli kneeling beside you, checking you for injuries. 

“Did you hit it?” He asked, inquiring about your head. 

You couldn’t even speak, instead giving him a small nod. 

Gods, you must’ve really hit your head! Why else were you finding yourself flustered when a wet, warm and roguishly handsome dwarf was this close to you? And looking at you with such care in his eyes? Wait, did you say handsome?

He leaned back, retracting his hand as he stood up, offering you a hand to help. You tried your best to snap out of your trance, but it was proving to be harder than expected. Had he always looked this good when you two were training? Had his muscles always glowed in his sweaty state? 

Gods. You thought you might have a concussion at this rate.

“I think it’s best we call it a night for now,” he frowned, quickly grabbing the pastries from earlier. “Let’s get some food in you and then have your head checked out.”

You furrowed your brows, confused. “What? No, it’s fine, I’ll just need—“

“It could be serious, Y/N.” Fíli’s tone held firm. “These floors aren’t exactly soft.”

Finally, you were coming back to your senses. There was no point in arguing either, not with the serious look he was giving you. “Okay. Let’s go and eat.”

After dinner, Fíli had taken you straight to the infirmary, not wasting a moment to get your head checked out. You were thankful for his swiftness too, feeling quite dizzy after dinner. Your vision seemed to focus in and out and your head was throbbing. Fíli had to help walk you to the infirmary, his stony expression not helping your emotions in your fugue state.

“You bruised your head,” the medic had told you, his tone stern as his fingers tangled themselves in your hair to look at your scalp. “Not too bad; there's no blood. We'll need to be weary of the severity, these things are hard to treat when they’re serious. You’ll have to be put on rest for at least a week.”

“A week?” You had asked with a frown. 

“If the pain or your vision gets worse then it’ll have to be even longer. Come back and see me immediately if that’s the case..” The medic shuffled over to his shelves of dried herbs, gathering a collection in a sachet for you as he spoke.

“How serious could it be?” Fíli asked.

“It’s hard to tell with bumps on the head,” the medic replied. “Especially when there isn’t any blood. My uncle couldn’t speak for months because of it. And I know you're aware of Bifur's case.” 

“Then what do you suggest I do?” You asked, ignoring the mention of Bifur. You’d have to ask Fíli about that later if you could remember. 

The medic finished his rummaging, now placing ten sachets of herbs in a small pouch before giving it to you. “Brewed in a tea, these should help with the pain. I can always give you more, but try to use them sparingly.”

“And I suppose sparring is out of the question?” Fíli already knew the answer but he asked so you could hear it. 

“Very much so. Nothing strenuous on the mind or the body for the next week. Consider yourself with a lot of free time to do nothing in the coming days,” the medic said. “Remember: if the pain or your vision worsens over the week, come and see me. I pray it won’t be that serious — the bruise is very faint.”

And now here you were, lying in your bed and staring at the open ceiling of your canopy, your head throbbing in pain. You had hoped lying down would’ve provided any solace, but with your dizziness and blurry vision, it didn’t seem to help much. 

“Here, drink this.” Fíli handed you a mug of some dark and musty smelling liquid. You winced upon smelling it. “Come on, it’ll help. You heard him.”

You sat up, receiving the mug and immediately closing your eyes to avoid the nausea. “How fast will it work?”

“You won’t know until you drink it, Y/N.”

You didn’t have the time, patience or energy to argue, bringing the mug to your lips and drinking. You were grateful Fíli hadn’t brewed it too hot; it was the perfect temperature not to scald you. 

“Thank you again,” you breathed, opening your eyes again. Fíli had gone through the trouble to help you back to your room and brew your tea for you, checking on you constantly. “For everything.”

“I’m just doing my duty,” he assured you as he blew out some of the candles in your room, making it dimmer. “There. Bright enough to see but not enough to blind. Is that better?”

You nodded. “Much. You’re so good at this.”

“I’ve had to help my mother tend to Kíli more than a few times in my youth,” he chuckled. “He was never as good as me when it came to climbing trees. Sure knew how to fall, though.”

“Did he ever have a bruised head like me?”

“Oh, he’s had it worse than you, believe me. He’s almost died before.” His tone was softer as he spoke. 

“That sounds much nicer than living with this,” you gestured to your head. 

Fíli smiled softly, sitting on your storage chest. “There’s no need for morbid jokes like that; you’re not dying.”

It sure felt like it. The throbbing was constant, like soldiers marching right on top of your brain. You were sure you’d wake up the next day with footsteps all over you. 

Thankfully, your vision had settled a little with the dimmer light. “I think I’ll be going to bed soon,” you sighed. 

Fíli shook his head. “Not yet, not until your symptoms improve with the tea. That’s what the medic said. That’s how we’ll know if you’re actually alright to sleep.”

“But it’s been hours since then,” you said. “I’m so tired.” 

“And you can sleep soundly once you’ve started feeling better. That’s an order.”

You waved him off, knowing it was impossible to argue with him. He was so many things, and stubborn was one of them. Cocky, immature and stubborn. 

“I’ll keep you company until anything improves.” He said, watching you take another gulp of the tea.

Cocky. Immature. Stubborn.

Cocky. He had kept overpowering you in training today, knocking you down all the time as a means of teaching you to dodge better. Maybe it was the pain making you bitter, but you still felt sore about today’s training. Very sore.

Immature. He had knocked you down multiple times, all with his own special comedic timing. Prick.

Stubborn. And now, after all of this, he wouldn’t leave your side; you weren’t even sure of how long it would be for. Great.

But you knew you were just being delusional. Sure, he was often teasing you about your portraits or overpowering you in training, but he hadn’t been that way since your injury. It was like you were seeing a whole new side to him. He was making your tea and helping you get to the medic. He was even staying by your side to keep you company and keep an eye on your symptoms. 

Maybe it was the head injury, but you were starting to think that he cared, even if just a little. 

You took another gulp, rolling your eyes at your own inner monologue. It was definitely the head injury.

Everything about your mandated rest only seemed to frustrate you. Sure, you could do everything that you normally could do before, save for training, but having to go to sleep with musty tea and headaches every night wasn’t exactly paradise.

You often resigned yourself to your room for most of the day, painting out of stress or frustration at the fact that this injury was taking so long to heal. You had tried walking around in the markets to get some steps in, but the bright lights and noise of the vendors’ stalls only irritated your mind more. For that reason you often spent time hiding away in libraries for fresh air when you were sick of your room’s four walls.

Fíli was around less, too; with you out of commission, he had taken on more deliveries and visited you less. As your bodyguard, he was still obligated to be by your side, but you had agreed it would be easier if he wasn’t sitting in your room all day with you. He had duties, after all. In these last five days, you wouldn’t see him until he joined you in the late afternoon, bringing dinner with him for you two to share a meal. 

You had come to appreciate this sentiment greatly. It was amazing how much some friendly interaction seemed to help you, especially when he was always checking in on how you were feeling. Like clockwork, you would find your painting sessions interrupted by the smell of fresh food and conversation. But once he would retire to his own room, the boredom would attack again.

Despite the boredom the healing process brought you, it wasn’t all for naught. Your vision had already gone back to normal and you found yourself less and less dizzy as the days went on by. But the throbbing in your head (while much less than before) was constant and it drove you mad. Sleeping at night had become a tall task; at times it felt as though the tea wasn’t proving to be as strong as it had in the beginning. 

Tonight was another sleepless night, the candle dripping wax as it lit up the newest journal entry you were writing; you had been making many entries to help you journal through this tough time. Most of them were about your injury or your boredom, but tonight was different.

This one was about Fíli. In fact, the last one had also been about Fíli. It was starting to become a pattern for you due to a rather unfortunate circumstance. 

You were having dreams about him. 

Maybe it was your concussion or the fact that you found yourself lonely every now and again in the night but you kept finding yourself dreaming of Fíli. 

You chalked it up to your mind trying to find something distracting to cure your endless fits of boredom, opting to write these dreams and feelings down as a means of getting them out of your head.

You set your pencil down, reading over the first page.

Dear Fíli,

I awake to thoughts of you yet again. Have you always looked like firelight, or have the effects of my headaches finally caught up to me? Your hair is that of melted glass. I dearly want to touch it. Wrap my fingers in it. I wonder if it is soft. I wonder if you are soft.

All too quickly, you found yourself disturbed by what you had written. This was insane! You felt crazy writing about how pretty the dwarf looked in your dreams. Nothing about this felt normal to you, all of it felt foreign, especially the dreams you were having.

Flustered, you put away your letter, hoping the thoughts would leave your mind if the reminders were out of sight. You were just lonely, right? Lonely and isolated due to needing rest, that was all.

Knock, knock, knock!

You jumped in your seat, a hand flying to your chest as Fíli’s knocks startled you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you made sure the letters were well hidden under your painting supplies before you opened the door, trying your best to look as normal as possible.

“Fíli? Is something the matter?” You furrowed your brows, confused on why he would be here so late in the night. You two had already eaten dinner and parted your separate ways.

He grinned, holding another bag of pastries in his hands. He must’ve visited Bombur again. “I bring good news. May I come in?”

You opened the door wider before returning to your bed. Fíli made himself comfortable on your storage chest. “The bakery is open this late?”

He chuckled, handing you a fresh pastry, the smell bringing a smile to your face. “Bombur’s pulling an all nighter to make sure his stock is ready for tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night?” Your mouth was full of food as you spoke, quickly covering your mouth as you chewed and swallowed. “What’s tomorrow?”

Fíli’s eyes widened, looking at you as if you had hit your head. Oh, the irony.

“Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Mahal, did I not tell you?” He genuinely seemed flabbergasted and your curiosity was wearing thin.

“Fíli, what on earth is it?” You asked.

“There’s a banquet tomorrow night, Y/N. Everyone’s been talking about it at the market.” He finally took a bite of his own pastry, the heavenly scent permeating the room.

“I haven’t been to the market in two days, you knew that,” you rolled your eyes, but the idea of a banquet piqued your interest greatly. “What’s the banquet for?”

“Brothers from the Iron Hills have come to visit, my cousin Dain included. They’ve come to see the progress Uncle has made to restore our home.” He took another bite, relishing the taste. You found yourself too fixated on watching him eat. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

You shook your head free of its weird thoughts. “Tomorrow? I’m not sure.” 

You frowned, worried about your injury. Banquets were gloriously regal but often full of bright lights and noises, both of which you still weren’t well enough to tackle.

“Are you going?” You asked, wondering if he’d be leaving your side tomorrow if you chose not to attend.

“I have to, at least for a little while. Thorin has Kíli and I give Dain a tour of the Forges before it starts.” He leaned back, getting comfortable. “After that, we’ll probably escape to meet the rest of the boys.”

You raised a brow. “Who?”

“Everytime we hold a banquet, Kíli and I socialize for a little while before sneaking off to our own hiding spot. At first it was to avoid our mother hunting down suitors for us, but now it’s become a tradition.” He chuckled. “We’ve even got Threl and Ori meeting us up there now, and I think Kíli has invited Gloín’s son, Gimli.”

You laughed. “The princes of Erebor don’t like to party? I find that quite hard to believe.”

“Oh, quite the opposite.” He threw a wink your way, flustering you as you quickly stuffed your face to hide it. “But it’s hard to have fun when your mother and uncle keep making you dance with every dwarrowdam within sixty miles. So, we have to get crafty!”

“What did you do last time?” You asked, your voice stuffed with food. Your manners had been loosening up while staying here.

“We snuck three barrels of mead with Bofur’s help,” he smiled at the thought. “It cost us three of his shifts but it was worth it. This year’s going to be much different, though.”

“Different?” You finished your pastry. “How so?”

“Well, now it’s more than just my brother and I. We’ve got three others joining us this time, and Kíli wants to spend the night playing drinking games, but that’s because he thinks he can outdrink Gimli.”

“Can –?”

“Not at all.”

You laughed, imagining all of the shenanigans a drunken prince could get into. You barely knew Kíli, having eaten with him only a handful of times, but he gave the vibe of a mischievous drunkard. 

“You’ll have a great time if you come,” he said. “And it’ll give you some freedom from your room.”

“I’m just worried,” you tucked a loose strand of hair away, feeling anxious. “I don’t want to risk anything with my headaches right now. Lights and noises have only been making it worse.”

You wanted to go, to socialize with someone, anyone. But there were simply too many risks, too many worries.

He tossed you another pastry, making you look over at him.

“Come, even if just for a moment,” he said. “The minute you don’t feel well, I’ll bring you to your room myself. But getting out of here would do you some good, Y/N. You’re getting uneasy.”

Your eyes widened, worried. Had he seen your letters? “How do you know that?”

“Y/N.” His tone was flat as he gestured to your room. “I don’t mean to offend, but look at the state of the place.”

Oh. That’s what he had meant. You sighed out of relief as you bit into the pastry. The midnight snack was doing wonders right now despite the fact that he had pointed out how messy your room was getting. 

“Fair enough.”

Almost twenty-four hours later, your room was back to its usual state and it was already improving your mood greatly. Maybe your mother had been right about nagging you to clean your room as a child. Your mind felt cleaner now that your room didn’t mirror its mess. 

And speaking of a clear mind, last night had been the first night of decent sleep in a while. No weird dreams, no restlessness, and you woke up feeling especially refreshed. Noises were still bothering you, which you had discovered while getting breakfast down at the market, but lights were a lot less irritating. 

This was good, as Erebor was brighter than it had ever been; metal lanterns hung on every corner of the kingdom, lighting the market and the great halls as everyone hustled and bustled preparing for the banquet . 

You had managed to finish two more portraits as the day went on, the sun setting behind the mountain before you even realized it. Soon, Fíli would be here to fetch you. 

You wondered what his friends were like. If they were anything like him, you were prepared for a whole lot of cockiness and childish humor. You smiled to yourself at the thought of Fíli getting drunk, wondering what his tolerance was like. He seemed like the type who could handle his liquor.

Knock, knock, knock. 

“Come in,” you called as you continued touching up your newest painting. 

The door opened and soon you felt Fíli lean down behind you to peer at your canvas. “And who am I meeting this time?”

“A young dam named Annis,” you answered. 

“The new lass at the bakery?” 

“The very same.” You dipped your paintbrush in another color as you carefully fixed a mistake you had made with her nose. 

“She makes a wonderful bread with cheese,” he hummed. 

“I know, she gave some to me as a gift this morning. Apparently she made too many for tonight.” You smiled at the thought of the tasty meal you had earlier. 

“And speaking of tonight,” he backed away from you know, sitting on your storage chest as usual. “Are you ready?”

You scoffed. “Clearly not if I’m painting.”

“Well, obviously. I meant more so in a general sense.” He rolled his eyes. 

“The answer’s still no, but alright.” You found a stopping point and began putting your supplies away, leaving the painting on its easel to dry. 

You stood up and stretched, cracking your knuckles. “I need to change, but I can do that quickly. Should I dress a certain way? I’ve never been to a dwarven banquet.”

“Oh, they’re very regal, but only for the ladies.” He chuckled. 

You looked confused, not understanding. 

He coughed. “To impress men. Most dams look for others to court at banquets.”

You rolled your eyes. “So the answer to my question is no?”

“Well, yes, but nobody’s stopping you from dressing yourself up.”

You ignored his comment, looking through some of your clothes that lay on your bed. You were deciding on an outfit earlier but had opted to wait for Fíli’s opinion. Not that it was doing any good. 

“And what is everyone else wearing?” You asked. 

“Does it matter?” He raised a brow. 

“Well, I’d very much like to blend in with your friends, so yes.”

“Y/N, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re not a dwarf. You’re going to stand out.” 

You groaned, throwing a tunic at him. “If you’re not going to be helpful, then leave so I can change.”

He caught it with a shit-eating grin, holding back his laughter from his teasing. “Alright, alright. But hurry up, I told Kíli we’d be there soon.”

One casual outfit change led to Fíli guiding you through Erebor to his ‘secret spot’. Despite his eagerness to join his friends, you were grateful that he took you through a quiet path to get there. 

Twists and turns led you through one wine cellar, an empty staircase, and a ruined library before eventually bringing you to a wide and open balcony, hidden from anyone passing by. It hung over the great hall where the banquet was being held, giving you a perfect view of the events below. Your eyes lit up in awe, both from the sheer height of the balcony and the amount of people you saw down below. Dwarves were already naturally short, but from here they looked like ants dancing over stone floors. 

“Is this that noble you were talking about, Fíli?” An unfamiliar voice asked, prompting you to turn around and take in the sight of the balcony, which had been decked out with a wide table and benches. 

Seated at the table were four others, but you only recognized Kíli. Fíli made his way over, taking a seat as he waved a hand at you to invite you to sit down next to him. 

“Aye, this is Y/N.” He said, introducing you. You gave a small nod, taking in your new surroundings. 

“Are you drinking with us?” Kíli asked.

“No,” Fíli interjected before you could say anything. “They’ll be sticking to water tonight.”

“I’m sure one pint won’t hurt me,” you scolded. It was a nice gesture that he was looking out for you, but there was no way you could handle the pressure of meeting new people without some liquid courage. Even if you weren’t going to get drunk, having something to hold onto would help your nerves. 

Fíli raised both of his hands in surrender at your words, a smirk on his lips. 

“An excellent choice!” Kíli grinned, elbowing one of the younger dwarves at the table. “Ori, get them something to drink before we start.”

Ori, who you now realized was the younger redhead with the unfortunate haircut, quickly fetched a drink of mead for you, setting it down in front of you with a smile as you thanked him. 

“Are we starting already? They’re finally here now,” the brown haired dwarf with blue eyes said, gesturing to you and Fíli. 

“Come on, don’t be like that; we got here as soon as we could,” Fíli explained. 

“Don’t mind him,” the other young redhead spoke, his beard longer than everyone else’s. “Threl’s just eager to start drinking.”

“Well no one’s stopping you!” Ori teased, raising his mug as a cheer. You laughed under your breath at their antics. 

“What are we playing?” You asked, finally speaking up. 

“Strike the Iron.” Kíli said, drawing a set of metal die and a leather dish, which he set in the middle of the table. 

“It’s easy, don’t worry. You’ll catch on quickly,” Fíli grinned, now armed with his own pint. “You throw the die and whatever it lands on decides your fate.”

“My fate?” You raised a brow. 

“Should we start with one since Y/N’s never played?” Ori offered.

“Who says they can’t learn with two?” The other redhead retorted. A part of you was hoping someone would say his name so you could learn it without asking.

Kíli waved him off. “We can start with one for now. Threl, you can go first since you’re rushing us all.”

Threl laughed at this, taking the dice and separating them, giving Kíli the extra. He tossed the single die into the leather dish. All of you eagerly watched as it rolled around before eventually landing on its side.

“Matkati, of course,” he playfully rolled his eyes and took a heaping gulp of his malt.

“That’s what you get for being impatient,” Fíli laughed. He then turned to you to explain. “Matkati means you take a drink.”

You nodded, repeating the word under your breath. The rules seemed to be simple enough so far.

Fíli took the die and tossed it as well, reading the side it landed on. “Mafsiki. Alright, who’s asking me the question?”

“Question?” You raised a brow.

Kíli snickered. “It means we get to ask him to tell us a secret.”

“Let Y/N ask it, since they’re new.” Ori smiled your way and you were caught off guard by the way everyone agreed. Well now you had been put on the spot.

“Ask away,” Fíli smiled at you, a hand on his beer as he took a sip. 

You thought for a moment, finding yourself overwhelmed with the opportunity. There was so much you could ask of him.

“Tell us who has the lowest tolerance at the table,” you said, opting for a question that was relevant to everyone here.

“Gimli,” he pointed at the other redhead, who was not happy to have his name in someone’s mouth. At least you finally had a name to the face.

“You liar!” He stood up, pointing his own finger at Fíli as everyone at the table roared with laughter. “You couldn’t outdrink me if you tried!”

Even Kíli stood, offended. “You lie! Everyone knows that you can’t handle your mead!”

“That was one time, Kíli!” Fíli retorted. “And need I remind you how we got in that situation?!”

“It’s your turn, Y/N,” Threl said, wiping a tear from his eye.

“I didn’t mean to cause any fighting,” you said while taking the die.

“Oh, don’t apologize!” Threl laughed. “Gimli’s always had a temper. He can’t tell a joke from a declaration of war.”

Gimli wasn’t having any of this, drinking his beer with a fiery passion. Hesitantly, you tossed the die into the leather dish, watching it roll around before it landed on the same symbol from earlier. “Mafsiki, right?”

“Now you’re getting it!” Threl grinned. “Who wants to ask them something?”

“My, who knew khuzdul sounded so nice on your tongue, Y/N,” Fíli chuckled, sending a wink your way. You eagerly took a drink to hide your face from his gaze.

“I’ll go,” Ori chimed in. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk?”

“While drunk?” You repeated, thinking to yourself. You hadn’t drank much back home, save for the occasional wine you’d sip as you painted. “I suppose I’ve accidentally slept on one of my paintings before.”

“Slept on a painting?” Ori repeated, eyes widening. “Was it dry?”

You chuckled. “Definitely not, it was ruined by the time I woke up. I was so upset; I think I cried.”

“That’s all? That’s not very adventurous,” Kíli scoffed. You were beginning to notice that he was much cockier than his brother. 

You shrugged. “I wasn’t known for my adventures back home. Being here is the most adventurous I’ve ever had to be.”

“Well then, it can’t be helped.” Ori said as he tossed the die. This time it landed on a new side, and you quickly looked to Fíli for an explanation. 

“Magli,” he whispered in your ear and you tried not to focus on how close he was as he spoke, his breath sending a shudder down your spine. “It means he’ll have to perform whatever daring task someone can come up with.”

“And I’ve already got the perfect one!” Gimli said proudly, slamming his drink on the table. It seems he had calmed down fairly quickly. 

“You, my lad,” he said, waving a finger in Ori’s face. “Need to go fetch us a platter of the meats they’re serving downstairs.”

Immediately, everyone started laughing and agreeing wholeheartedly. The table roared in agreeance and the rumbling of everyone’s stomachs.

“Yes, you must!” Kíli grinned, and Ori rolled his eyes as he stood up to leave. 

“These next tasks better not be errands!” He frowned, leaving the hidden balcony as he went to go do Gimli’s bidding. 

“Does he really have to go all the way back?” You asked. 

“Aye, if he wants to keep playing,” Gimli nodded. “Otherwise he’s exiled from the table.”

“That feels rather harsh,” you frowned. 

“It’s simply the rules, Y/N,” Fíli chuckled. “Gimli, hurry up and play. None of us here are drunk enough.”

“Aye, don’t rush me!” Gimli scolded, taking the die in his hand. 

Three long hours later, Gimli and Ori were out for the count, drunken and babbling nonsensical things as they laid on top of each other on the floor. You had to come to know that this was quite normal for them. Kíli, as you had predicted, had abandoned the group to go wildly dancing at the banquet down below. Every now and then, you and Threl would look over the balcony to see if you could spot the brown-haired prince from so high up.

“His mother will sure be happy to see him dancing with young dams,” Threl had snickered.

“The question is whether or not he’ll remember any of them in the morning,” you had retorted.

Fíli himself was also quite drunk; you had realized early on that he was even more of a lightweight than Gimli, having to switch his drink to water earlier in the game. Threl and yourself were the only sober ones, which you found ironic when Threl had been so eager to drink earlier.

At some earlier point in the night, all of you had abandoned the game, opting for drunken conversation mixed with the occasional dancing. You learned that Kíli and Ori were very light on their feet when it came to fast-paced dances. Gimli and Threl, on the other hand, found something as simple as waltzing to be a challenge. And Fíli? Well, he seemed to be a bigger fan of humming and clapping along to the music.

Eventually you all decided to return to the iron dice, but it was becoming much more intimate now that it was down to only three players: Threl, Fíli and yourself. 

You tossed the die into the dish, laughing to yourself as Fíli slumped against Threl, muttering how dear their friendship was to him. You hadn’t pegged him to be a sentimental drunk.

“Falling asleep already?” You scoffed, quickly reading the die to determine your fate. “It’s mafsiki.”

“Not in your wildest dreams, dear,” Fíli waved your question off and you did your best to not find yourself flustered by the pet name. He was a sentimental and affectionate drunk; you had been slowly discovering this as the night went on. “Threl, my brother, ask them a question.”

“Alright,” he chuckled. “Y/N, how far can I take these questions?”

“We’ve already made steady progress, Threl.” You rolled your eyes. “I suppose anything’s on the table when you’ve already asked Kíli what he’s like in bed.”

He laughed at this, taking a swig of his mead. “In my defense, I thought he wouldn’t answer!”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” you scoffed. Even if you weren’t close with Kíli, you knew he wouldn’t shy away from something so easily. You still couldn’t shake the image that Kíli had a thing for bondage. It seems you learn something new everyday. 

“Fair enough, I see your point. Let me think of something then.” He scratched his beard, setting his drink down to think. “Oh, I’ve got it.”

He leaned in from across the table, a devilish smirk on his face. “What’s a lie you’ve told yourself?”

“Well that isn’t particularly raunchy,” you frowned. You were expecting more. Perhaps even hoping for more.

“But it’s still interesting enough, I’d say,” Fíli chimed in.

“It seems the jury agrees with me, Y/N,” Threl chuckled.

You tucked a loose strand of hair away as you thought, wondering if there were any lies you had been telling yourself lately. Very little came to mind, but one in particular seemed to stick out.

“I suppose I keep telling myself that everything’s okay while I’m here,” you began with a sigh. “But I still have someone who wants me dead out there. And staying here and meeting such lovely people as you doesn’t change the fact that I’m a dead man walking.”

A silence fell over you three as you fiddled with your hair, unsure of what to do now. You had answered truthfully in order to keep playing, but it also felt as though you had ruined the mood. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so melanchol–” You began, interrupted when Fíli reached a hand over to rest on your shoulder, offering your reassurance.

“Gandalf is a friend,” he offered a small smile. “If he says you’re safe here, then safe is what you are. And I intend to help in any way I can.”

“I may not know your entire situation,” Threl offered. “But what my friend says is true. Especially if Fíli is your trainer. He’s a formidable fighter to have on your side.”

You smiled, silently thanking them for their reassurance. While it didn’t settle your inner qualms, it still felt quite lovely to know that there were people here who cared that you existed. That appreciated the fact that you were here, despite the reasons. And it was especially encouraging to know that you had allies.

“You know what we need at this moment?” Fíli asked, elbowing Threl.

“What’s that?” Threl gave Fíli a confused expression.

“More players! I’m sure if you go and fetch Kíli and find my dear friend Bofur, we can finally start playing with two dice!” Fíli’s pink cheeks glowed as he flashed a smile thinking of his friends.

Threl seemed quite keen on the idea, standing up quickly to leave. “Alright, but I doubt it will be easy with Kíli dancing. Wish me luck!”

You waved a short goodbye to the blue-eyed dwarf before turning to face Fíli again, whose expression was much more serious now. It caught you off guard, startling you for a moment.

“Is everything alright?” You asked.

“Y/N…” His voice was clearer now, and despite his flushed face, you would have assumed he was much more sober now. “I don’t think I’ve ever truly apologized for your injuries–”

“Fíli, what are you saying?” You cut him off. “We were training, it wasn’t your fault–”

“Let me finish.” His eyes burned into yours and you shifted in your seat, feeling uncomfortable in his blue gaze. This was a complete shift from his earlier behavior and you were uncertain of where it was leading.

“I cannot help but feel guilty that my training has led to such an injury. You were brought here out of fear and because of that, you’ve had to find a place for yourself here, in a world that isn’t your own. I just…”

He paused and you drew another breath, unsure of where he was leading with this. Your heart was beating all too fast inside your chest.

“I need you to understand that while you haven’t been here long, I have grown quite accustomed to our routines.” He continued as he pushed through a fit of hiccups, which was the only thing reminding you of his drunken state. “While you are here, I will allow no harm to come to you. I swear it. I am wholly at your service for absolutely anything you will need. Anything.”

“Fíli, that’s…” You couldn’t find the words, taken aback by his proclamation. “That’s very kind of you.”

A short silence fell over you two and you were contemplating on finally telling Fíli about the feelings and dreams you had been having lately, but time was not on your side. 

“Aye, it’s hopeless!” A voice cut through, interrupting your thoughts as its owner walked back in with empty hands and a frown on his face. Threl was not pleased. “Kíli won’t come up here, believe me I tried.”

Fíli gave you one last longing look before turning to Threl and standing up, getting ready to leave. You took in the whole scene before you, still pondering the words he had spoken to you earlier. 

“You can’t be serious, brother. Here, we’ll all go find him together!”

Knock, knock, knock! You awoke quickly from the sound, springing out of bed to open the door to a smiling Fíli.

“What time is it?” You asked, your voice a few tones deeper and a bit raspy from waking up. You winced from the light that came in from the hallway, much brighter than your dark room.

Fíli stifled a laugh. “You sound like me! Is everything alright?”

“Fíli, it’s early.” You groaned. “What do you want?”

“You, obviously. Why else would I be here?”

You didn’t even have time to fantasize about the meaning of his words before he was already inviting himself in, lighting some candles along the way. It was indeed too early for anything this morning.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, seeking an explanation.

“You’ve been healed for a few days already, correct?” He looked at you to answer, despite already knowing the answer.

Three days ago, one month since you had arrived in Erebor, you had visited the medic for a final check up on your head. Thankfully, all of your headaches had dulled away and the rest of your symptoms were minimal if not completely gone. The bruise on your head had also healed tremendously; with all of these good signs, the medic had officially cleared your diagnosis, meaning you could resume your normal life again.

“Yes, you know this.” It was too early for these antics.

“I know, but humor me for the time being. I’ve planned the perfect get-well gift for you.” His smile was practically beaming now, as though he couldn’t contain his excitement.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “What is it?”

“I’m not telling you.” He said, feeling cheeky. If you weren’t annoyed before, you sure as hell were now.

“Fíli, I’d love nothing more than to go back to sleep.” You walked back over to your bed, fully intent on climbing back into the sheets. It was probably still warm, too, but Fíli had other plans.

“And I know it,” he said, quickly moving to put himself between you and your bed. If you hadn’t felt utterly exhausted, you might have found yourself feeling flustered or rather bold. But exhaustion was all you could feel right now.

“But I can assure you this will be worth it. And it has to be now.” His eyes bore into your own, waiting eagerly for your answer.

You sighed. It seemed there was no chance of winning against him.

“Just let me get dressed before I change my mind.”

Fíli made a sound of victory as he practically jumped off of your storage chest to exit your room. Even if he was annoying, he still would give you privacy. The door shut behind him, and you cast one more longing look at your bed before scurrying to find yourself an outfit.

It seemed it would be another day of a cozy tunic and trousers.

Finally dressed and following Fíli as he guided you through the kingdom’s halls, you were starting to feel more awake and more curious of what his planned surprise could possibly be. Even the idea that he had planned something special for you was giving you butterflies. How long had he been planning this? Or was this a sudden idea of his?

You tried your best to contain your excitement, not wanting to romanticize anything too much. Indeed, your growing feelings towards your bodyguard were still something you wished to keep secret.

Twists and turns and endless walking eventually led you outside of Erebor’s huge mountain gates; mighty, massive and moss-covered from the recent weather. The fresh wind hit your lungs all at once, making you feel as though you had taken the first deep breath of air in a long time. You gasped at the sensation.

The fresh fall air tickled your skin as you realized it had been too long since you had last seen the sky. The vast blue atmosphere welcomed you with its sunny warmth and you couldn’t help the smile that quickly took over your face. Outside, finally.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed it until it was all around you.

Fíli had been watching your reaction with a soft smile on his face, taking in your joy with a sense of pride. He was glad to take in your expressions. Finally realizing he was watching, you quickly composed yourself, feeling embarrassed.

“I didn’t realize that I had missed it so much,” you said, your voice hushed.

He nodded with a smile, understanding. “We miss the things we take for granted.”

You nodded, walking closer to keep up with his pace. “Is this what the surprise was?”

“Not even quite,” he laughed. “Come on, we’re almost there.” 

Eagerly you followed, unable to wipe the smile off of your face. Everything was perfect; the wind blowing your worries away. For now, all that mattered was you, Fíli and the sky. But things were only getting started.

The path was well-worn into the grass with small rocks and smooth stones occasionally jutting out from the soil. You tried your best to keep from tripping, too accustomed to the smooth carved stone of the mountain paths of Erebor. Everything about the outdoors felt so alien to your body, but you couldn’t have loved the feeling more. It felt as though you were experiencing everything again for the first time. 

Fíli, however, saw this as a perfect opportunity to tease you.

“Careful now,” he said anytime you stumbled, though it felt as though he said it whenever your foot so much as graced the presence of a hill.

“Seriously, I can manage,” you retorted with a huff.

“Really? I could’ve sworn you were about to–”

“Enough, Fíli.” You rolled your eyes, ignoring the smirk that was plastered on his face.

The journey was like this for quite some time until you began to piece together where your destination was. Needless to say, you were very excited.

“Dale? Is that where we’re going?” You asked, excitement feeding your smile.

“Just for a little while,” Fíli nodded, happy to see you had caught on. “I thought you would enjoy the time outdoors.”

“Oh, I already am,” you beamed. You could hardly contain yourself. There was fresh wind, there was the sky above you and there was an entire city of people like you waiting for you to explore it. It almost felt as though you were back home, nostalgia eating away at you as you couldn’t hold back your grin. 

“Fíli, this is wonderful,” you exclaimed.

He smirked. “Now you see why I woke you up so early. Even Kíli doesn’t know we’re here.”

“It’s a secret?” You asked.

“For now, but don’t worry.” He said. “We’ll be back before they even realize we’re gone.”

“How long do we have?” You raised a brow, curious as to why he’d chosen to keep it a secret.

“A few hours, at most. I thought you’d like to see the market first.”

He offered you his hand and you felt your heart skip a beat for a moment. You smiled, beaming down at the blonde prince as you took his hand in yours.

“I’d love nothing more.”

Despite the fact that the sun was still waking up in the sky, the busy market streets of Dale were alive and kicking. Colorful stalls decorated the cobblestone paths as vendors shouted their sales at passerby while others continued setting up their spaces. It was a vibrant and lively atmosphere that beckoned one and all to witness it. It made you think of the markets back home, despite their differences; even the markets in Erebor were different, as the stalls were lit up by lanterns that gave the illusion of a nighttime festival.

But none of these differences seemed to affect the way that your eyes glittered with joy at the sight of so many fine goods. Jewelry and clothing vendors caught your eye the most as you dragged Fíli along with you to browse the wares that were so different from the traditional dwarvish clothes you had become accustomed to. 

You had become so used to the earthy and deep tones of the mountain dyes, but here in Dale the clothes were of brighter hues. You had grown so used to the typical browns, blues and reds that the sight of such rich greens and purples blew you away. 

“Oh, just look at these, I’ve never seen such pretty dresses,” you muttered to yourself, astounded by all of the simple linen gowns the vendor was selling. They were so different from what you usually found yourself wearing, but for some reason you couldn’t shake your admiration off of them. 

“Did you want them?” Fíli asked, laughing at your childlike wonder. 

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly—“

“Y/N, don’t worry about it. Consider it my payment for your injury now that you’re well again.” He was already fetching coins from his pouch and handing them to you; you couldn’t say no. And if you could, he certainly wasn’t taking it for an answer. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. 

“I’ve already made up my mind. I’ll even carry your purchases if you’re nice enough,” he joked.

You had laughed at this, but Fíli had been quite serious. For some strange reason, he refused to let you carry any of your next two purchases. You waved it off as his stubborn determination, your mind focusing more on the next vendors your eyes landed on. Whatever his reasons were, spending this time outside was doing so much for your health. Everything was lovely in the early morning sun.

Now that you two were in the full swing of things at the market, you really wanted to find a way to buy Fíli a gift of his own. Granted, he was the only one who had brought any money, but it was the sentiment that would matter more. 

The only issue was the fact that he hadn’t left your side whatsoever. 

You wracked your brain while pretending to peruse more wares, thinking of any excuse you could use in an attempt to sneak away and look for a gift for him. What would get him to let you escape? What kind of gift would he like? You told yourself you’d know it when you found it, opting to have one less thing to worry about. 

What was stopping you from just asking him to leave? You didn’t want to ruin the surprise of finding him a gift, but couldn’t you just ask for some privacy? Perhaps it was worth a shot. 

He raised a brow, noticing the torn expression on your face. “Everything alright?”

“Can I look at a few stalls by myself?” You asked, tucking your hair back as a nervous habit. 

“You already are, I haven’t said a word,” he replied. 

You shook your head. “No, I meant completely alone.” 

“Y/N, if it’s undergarments you’re looking for, we already passed that—“

“Is nothing sacred to you?” You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile from his crass teases. A full month of listening to his constant teases and jokes was now starting to make you find them humorous, which was terrible for his ego. “Fíli, please.”

He was already smirking from his own joke, but he could sense your impatience. He sighed, looking away for a moment as he came to terms with his decision. 

“Fine. I’ll stay here, but I don’t want you leaving my sight.” He handed you some coins from his small leather purse. “Here, these should do you some good.”

You grinned. “Right, of course.”

“And make it quick,” he added. “We should start thinking of heading back home soon.”

“I understand!” You called, already walking away to quickly roam some more stands. 

You had to find a gift for Fíli, and fast. What would he like? You knew he had an affinity for his weapons, but there was no way you had enough currency to pay for such a thing. You didn’t know him well enough to know what kind of clothes he was fond of, either. Your eyes scanned the wares of the next two stalls you wandered towards, trying not to rush yourself as you searched for something that would call out to you. 

And all of a sudden, there it was. 

Nestled in a small linen-lined case was a pair of rings carved from iron, a pearl embedded in each one. Their silver shine sparkled in the early morning light, reminding you of the silver beads Fíli wrapped around his braids. You couldn’t take your eyes off of them; these were the ones that were calling to you. The iridescent freshwater pearls reminded you of his eyes; they would be perfect to weave into his hair, as they were too small to fit even your fingers. 

“Excuse me,” you called, getting the vendor’s attention. Your heart was pounding at the idea of giving Fíli such a gift. “How much are these?”

The old woman hobbled over to you, gaining a closer look at what you were pointing at. Once she realized, a relieved sigh fell from her lips. 

“Oh my, anything you’re willing to spend is fine by me, dear.” Her shrill voice said. 

“Pardon?” You raised an eyebrow, not fully understanding what she meant. 

“My son made these months ago and they never sold because of their size,” she explained. “I wouldn’t argue with any payment for these, so long as they find a home with someone else.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded, smiling as you fingered through your coins. You handed her three, hoping it would be enough despite the fact that she was willing to sell them for dirt cheap. 

“Thank you, dear.” She took your payment thankfully, picking up the rings afterwards. “Here, allow me to package them for you so you don’t lose them.”

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled. “That’s very kind.”

Your hands eagerly received the small linen bag that the old woman gave you, the clinking of the rings inside making your smile even bigger. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what Fíli would think. Your heart was pounding at the idea.

Quickly, you looked for him, knowing he was somewhere close. After all, he had told you to stay in his sight. But as your eyes traveled over all of the stalls you had previously been to, you noticed that he was nowhere to be found. Were you lost? He must have moved from the stall that you left him at, but where?

Tucking the small bag with his gift into your tunic, you began wandering and retracing your steps, hoping to find him nearby. You were growing a little nervous, hoping he wouldn’t be upset that you must have gotten lost, especially because he had mentioned that you two should start leaving soon. Would he be in trouble if anyone in Erebor found you two missing? You frowned at the thought, not wanting to find out.

“Fíli?” You called out, hoping he’d hear you in the sea of people shopping. “Fíli?

You kept walking, the worrying feeling growing in your chest the longer you couldn’t find your companion. You drew a breath, trying to calm yourself down until a hand grasped your wrist, pulling you away into a side alley.

Shock took over your face as your front was slammed into the walls of someone’s home, the breath knocked out of your lungs as a hand quickly covered your mouth, preventing any noise from being heard. You felt something sharp poke your back and your entire body stiffened.

“Let’s find out what happens if you make any noise, hm?”

An hour had passed now, your life hanging in the balance as your attacker paced the room of the abandoned building he had taken you to. Tied and gagged against a foundational pillar, your heart pounded as all you could do was watch in horror as your attacker waited impatiently while muttering something under his breath. The lighting was too dim to make out anything about him, save for his tall and lanky build.

How could you have been such a fool? You had been too naïve to believe that Erebor was a safe place. With a bounty on your head, you’d never be safe. If only you hadn’t let your guard down, if only you hadn’t lost sight of Fíli, and where was Fíli? Only an hour had passed, but it felt like three lifetimes with the fear that stabbed your heart. 

You were really going to die here. Alone and lost, without saying goodbye.

Your attacker whipped his head to look at you, an impatient grin on his face as his blade glinted in the candlelight of the room. He slowly approached you and you desperately tried to scurry away to no avail. He laughed at this, the scar on his left cheek now visible and on full display. But knowing what he looked like only terrified you more.

No, please. Don’t let me die here.

“You know what I’ve learned about you?” He smiled eerily, cocking his head to the side. “You’re tough to track, you know. Everyone before me lost your trail in Lake Town, but I knew better. Some were saying you had returned south into Mirkwood, can you believe that? Idiots, all of them.”

He scratched the back of his head with the hilt of his blade, a means of showing it off so he could see the fear in your eyes. A feral joy etched itself into his face as he studied your expression, relishing the silent tears that sprang from your eyes.

“I knew better, alright. I trusted the tracks — you must always trust the tracks. I’m actually just surprised it took me this long to find you here. Where have you been hiding out, hm? I checked all of the ruins here; were you staying with someone? Perhaps bribing them to let you live with them? But it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

He paused and gave an almost thoughtful look. “What’s your family known for again?” He suddenly laughed and you couldn’t stop the silent tears that spilled from your eyes. “Ah, that’s it! Something about ashes and trusting one another, hm? Well, then! Do you trust me?”

You held back a choked whine as he spoke but when he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear you quickly thrashed about, loathing the idea of him touching you. 

He hated this.

He slapped you across your face, the impact burning your skin. You cried out. Tears poured out. But you refused to meet his gaze. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the pain and fear in your eyes, again. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest and you struggled to keep your breathing with the stress.

Please. Someone, anyone! Will no one find me?

“No wonder he wants a brat like you dead. You think you’re too good for me, hm? You think I’m not worthy of someone like you?” He stood up now, his arms crossed. “Well it’s too late! Once my friend arrives to confirm who you are, you’ll be dead. And I’ll be richer than ever. Richer than your family, that’s for sure. I wonder what I’ll spend it on?”

He backed away, now muttering to himself as he pondered the idea of how to spend his new fortune. You watched him return to his pacing, desperately trying to find a way to loosen your bonds, but it was no use. You had no weapons and the ropes he had tied you with were so tight that any slight movement in your wrists only seemed to tighten them to the point of bruising.

I’m really going to die here, aren’t I?

You sobbed through your gag, your tears staining your face and clothes as you thought about everything that had led you to this point. You thought about your father, now hating him more than ever despite the fact that he had raised you. He was the reason you were about to die alone. You thought about your mother, who had been too depressed to even wish you a proper goodbye. You wondered if she’d ever know how much you were suffering now. And of course, you thought about Erebor and all the new friends you had come to know. You would never see Kíli drunkenly dance again, or Threl try to babysit Fíli’s drunken sentimentality, or even Gimli’s competitive nature combined with Ori’s people-pleasing tendencies. 

None of them would ever see you again.

You thought of Fíli the most. You wondered how he would feel after finding out you died on his watch; you wondered if he’d ever recover. Where was he? Was he out there right now, looking for you somewhere in the market? Or had something happened to him, too? It seemed your attacker didn’t know about him, or even about Erebor. Had Fíli gone back to get help in finding you? Why else had he not found you by now? Surely the city of Dale wasn’t too much ground to cover for such a warrior as he?

I never even told him of my feelings.

You closed your eyes, unconsolable as you cried, hoping everything would be over soon. You had given up hope now, forced to acknowledge that this was the end for you. As soon as your attacker’s contact arrived, you’d be killed. You blamed yourself for believing that hiding away would keep you safe; you blamed yourself even more for your injury, which prevented you from adequately learning any self defense that would’ve helped you in this exact situation. You were outgunned and outplanned. It was hopeless. 

You were going to die here. 

Your assailant continued his pacing, still muttering to himself about all of the fine clothes he would buy for himself once he would be given the bounty, occasionally cursing to himself while wondering when his contact would arrive. A part of you found it ironic that despite how clever he had deemed himself to be in finding you, he still needed someone to double check his homework. If you weren’t gagged and crying, you would’ve probably let him know your thoughts a little too well. 

Knock, knock, knock!

Your heartbeat quickened and your body went on full alert. Fíli quickly came to mind, having grown accustomed to his patterns on your door. But Fíli wasn’t here. He didn’t know where you were. And so, three soft knocks were all it took for you to panic. This was it. You were going to die. Your muffled cries quickly sprang from your throat as your enemy shot you a devious smile before walking to the back of the dark room towards the door. 

You were out of time. 

“Do us both a favor and keep quiet, hm?” He laughed, his hand now resting on the doorknob. “Wouldn’t want this to be any messier than it—“

The door swung open, knocking him down as the air was ripped from his lungs. Your eyes squinted in an effort to make out what had happened, but the force of the door was enough to snuff out the nearby candles that illuminated your unknown enclosure. You hiked your legs closer to you, desperately trying to wrangle your wrists free to no avail. You couldn’t see anything but the noises you were hearing were enough to send your heart leaping out of your chest.

A loud thud sounded as the door creaked again and your assailant let out a pained cry, swearing in pain. Shuffling of feet reached your ears, distant at the other end of the room. More shouts and grunts could be heard, but they were not solely from your attacker. Whoever had entered the room was certainly not his contact. 

A muffled crunch was heard and you winced at the sound of your attacker’s screams of suffering. Had his bones been broken? By who? By what force? Your breathing was ragged and short as you tried to keep quiet, hoping that the mysterious new person couldn’t see or hear you. 

A yelp then a thud, closer now than previously. Followed by a hand gripping your ankle as someone had thrown your attacker towards you. You couldn’t help the scream that left your lungs aching for air as you kicked the hand away and tried your best to shuffle elsewhere.

And then the hand was no more, the sound of dragging and the door gently shutting ringing in your ears as you were left in the dark by yourself.

Your heart was pounding as a cold sweat covered your body, trying to wrap your mind over what had just happened. The ringing in your ears was only growing louder and louder as you tried to recount the last two minutes.

What bothered you more was the lack of sound on the other side of the door. No screams, no shuffles, absolutely nothing. Silence. Eerie silence.

The door creaked open once again and every fiber of your being went on high alert as the sound of footsteps and heavy panting approached you. Quickly, your bonds were cut and hands reached to remove the gag from your tear-stained face.

“Y/N…” Fíli’s voice filled your ears and you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your entire body into his arms, sobs wracking your body. 

“There, you’re safe now, I promise you,” he whispered, his voice quiet in the silence of the room. His arms wrapped around your frame, cradling you in his hold as a safe space while you cried. His grip was tight, as if you would disappear all at once.

Your hands tangled themselves in his hair as you clutched him close to you, desperately wanting to be assured that this was real and you were safe. You needed to prove that he was here. He reciprocated by pulling you so close into him all you could breathe was him. He had found you. Everything was alright.

He raised a hand to your face, gently holding it in his calloused palms as he wiped tears from your eyes. If you weren’t in such a state of shock, you would've asked him how he was able to see in such a dark room. But questions would have to come later as your body finally had a chance to process and digest all of the trauma the last hour and half had brought you. You dove your head into his shoulder, weeping tears that stained the fur trim of his tunic. Your hands lost their vice grip on his blonde locks, now falling to his shoulders as you anchored yourself to him. His hand cradled your head, keeping you close to him as he rubbed soothing patterns along your scalp. 

“We must head back.” He waited until your cries had dulled down to silent tears and even breathing before breaking the tense silence in the room, bringing his hands into your own so you could feel that he was here by your side.

You only let out a choked sniffle as a reply, letting him help you up and lead you out the torturous dark.

“What were you doing in Dale?” Thorin’s voice echoed through the stone hall you were all gathered in and to say he was displeased would have been a massive understatement.

The moment you two had made it back inside the gates of Erebor, a worried Kíli and Ori greeted you with upsetting news; apparently, once it had been discovered by Kíli that both of you were nowhere to be found, the king had summoned you. 

“He’s not happy, Fí.” Kíli had warned. “I tried to cover for you, but I haven’t seen him this uneasy in a while. What happened out there?”

“Nothing good,” Ori frowned, inspecting the blood that was spattered on Fíli’s boots and trousers; something you had been too afraid to ask about on the journey back home.

“Where is he, Kíli?” Fíli’s tone was clipped and soft, his eyes unreadable even to you.

Only you and Fíli had been allowed to enter the Great Hall where Thorin Oakenshield resided, forced to meet with him before even thinking of doing anything else.

And now here he sat before you, regal and cold as his stony throne. He glared daggers into the both of you, demanding answers. Answers that Fíli was more than prepared to give.

“I brought them thinking it would do their mind some good,” he was firm in his response, standing at full attention before his uncle and his king.

“Some good?” The king raised a dark bushy brow. “And what good came from it? What good could have possibly come from my nephew rushing home with blood on his hands?”

“I was attacked,” you croaked, your voice weak from crying but you did your best to appear otherwise. “A man who knew of the bounty found me, he told me that they’ve been tracking me.”

“And what else do you expect of them?” Thorin stood, anger in his tone. “Do you understand how much wealth has been placed on your head?”

“Uncle, it wasn’t their fault–” Fíli stepped forward, confused by Thorin’s question, but he was interjected.

“Then tell me, should I blame you? Are you not the one I placed in charge of Y/N?” Thorin began approaching you both, his steps slow and intimidating.

Fíli held his ground, trying his best to sway the king’s mind. “Yes, and as such, I have taken care of the threat. Just like you’ve taught me.”

“Taken care of it?” His uncle repeated. It seemed he would hear none of it. 

But Fíli was persistent. “Both of the hunters who were after Y/N are dead now.”

“And I suppose that it is only a matter of time before Bard learns of this?” 

“You can send a messenger explaining–”

“I have done enough!” Thorin declared, his tone cold as ice as he stood still. His voice echoed in the hall around you, reverberating in your mind. He could not be reasoned with as he glared you and Fíli down, just mere feet in front of you two.

The room fell so silent that you could hear the shallow breaths of the king before you. Fíli took a step to put himself between you and Thorin and it was becoming harder and harder to keep up the brave face.

“I was told you would be safe here, that my people would be safe here.” The king’s cold gaze fixed itself on you now, pointing a finger as he gestured to Fíli. “But my nephew’s sacrifice today is enough to prove otherwise.”

“Uncle, what are you saying–”

“I will send word to Gandalf. I want him back here before the next full moon to discuss new terms. Y/N cannot stay here. Even you must realize this, Fíli.”

Your eyes widened as his words echoed in your mind. Today had already proven that you were not truly safe anywhere and Thorin’s words were enough to convince you that even Erebor wasn’t safe. You felt tears pooling in your eyes but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of Thorin. Not before the King.

“It is no longer safe for any of us to harbor you here,” his words cut through you as he stood tall and firm. I will grant you lodgings only until Gandalf has answered his summons. Until then, I am ordering you not to leave the city again. Perhaps we should even bar you in your own room to prevent it. For if you do leave, I won’t hesitate to take matters into my own hands.”

“And then what?” Fíli exclaimed, growing impatient as he fought for you. He had done so much of that today. “What will you have them do? Sleep on the streets, only to be killed?”

“Once Gandalf returns, their fate is no longer our concern.” Thorin spoke bluntly and despite how cold he was being to you, you knew his words came from the care he felt towards his people. How could you blame him? It wasn’t his fault you had brought him trouble. He was only doing what he thought was best for his people.

“Fíli, it’s alright,” you frowned, raising a hand to rest on his shoulder. “He’s right, it’s not safe for me to be here anymore.”

Fíli whipped his head around to face you, his deep blue eyes full of anger and worry. “And where will you be safe? If there are men in Dale after you, then there are men everywhere. You said so yourself; they’ve been tracking you.”

Thorin watched both of you, an unreadable expression in his eyes as he listened to his nephew’s words.

“Which means it’s only a matter of time before they realize I’m here,” you said. “I’m not safe here, Fíli. Gandalf will know what to do, he has to.”

You weren't sure if you even believed that. After all, Gandalf had been the one who said that Erebor was safe in the first place. But could you truly believe that anymore after the events of today?

Thorin turned back to return to his throne. “I’ve done enough to honor Erebor’s debt to Gandalf. You’re both dismissed; I shall send word for him immediately.”

“There is no need,” an elder voice boomed, shadows dancing around the room as none other than Gandalf stepped before you all. “I have already arrived.”

All three of you turned to the great stone doors of the hall where Gandalf stood with Kíli and Ori by his side.

“And I’m afraid that I bear ill news.”

You stood frozen before the King and the familiar wizard as you watched him enter the room hastily, his robes billowing behind him in an anxious manner as if the fabric had its own emotions. Eyes wide with a tear-stained face, your stomach dropped at the sight of the Grey One. It seemed in the span of a few hours, the life you had accustomed yourself with was crashing once again around you. It had already happened in Gondor and now history was repeating itself in Erebor.

Thorin’s earlier cold gaze was now warming up with an unknown fury as he eyed the wizard down. “How kind of you to show up at–”

“There is no time for games, Thorin Oakenshield.” Gandalf cut him off, his voice booming through the stone hall. There was something different about this Gandalf. What had once been an anxious urgency was now replaced with an air of clear-cut authority. He stood much taller and his brow was more furrowed in his glare sent to the King Under the Mountain.

It terrified you.

“I must speak with Y/N immediately,” he spoke, his eyes now fixated on your shaking form, the steely blue now softening as he made his way to you. “Alone.”

You cast an uneasy gaze at Thorin, who stood furious as all hell. He was quite upset with you and even more so at the gall of this intruder ordering him around. But nevertheless, he did his best to seem composed.

“Everyone, out.” His tone was clipped as his gaze cast fire at Gandalf. Only a moment of hesitation hung in the air before everyone quickly filed out.

Fíli cast an unreadable glance at you before leaving with Kíli and Ori. You desperately wanted him to stay.

It was just Gandalf and Thorin now, seemingly caught in a silent battle of steel and fire. With a short breath, Thorin finally left the hall.

Terrified, you two were now alone.

Quickly, Gandalf’s steely exterior melted into exhaustion and false mirth, eyes softening upon your frightened frame.

“Now Y/N…” His voice muttered. He didn’t know where to start. Even worse, he didn’t know how it would end.

“They found me today,” you admitted softly. It was important to tell him this. “Fíli took me to the market in Dale. I thought I’d be safe here.”

Gandalf stood silent now, allowing you your space as you tried holding back your tears. 

“I don’t know if I can keep living like this, Gandalf. They tied me up in the dark. Like cattle.” You bit your lip, the tears falling as you balled up your fists. You were angry now. It was all you could feel to prevent yourself from breaking down. “I was helpless in there, Gandalf. You said I would be safe here–”

“I said no such thing.” He was stern in everything but his gaze as his soft eyes bore into you. “Safety was never guaranteed.”

A heavy silence fell between you two, your breathing filling the hall as you thought about earlier. How your bindings had stung your wrists, which were certain to be bruised. How the rough fabric of your gag had felt like it was cutting into your skin. How your dying thoughts had been of Fíli.

You’d have to leave him now. There was no reason for you to stay here and it seemed highly unlikely Thorin would continue his generosity after the events of today.

“Where do I go from here?” You asked meekly. Your voice was cracked from a lack of water and the ache of your tears. You desperately needed a bath. You needed a plan even more.

Gandalf sighed. “I came to tell you news of your father.”

Your eyes immediately shot wide open. Your breath hitched for a moment, holding it in anticipation. “What news?”

“I’m afraid the situation in Gondor has only gotten worse.” He explained with a furrow of his brow. “Despite my attempts, the pieces are being placed against us.”

“What are you talking about?” You pressed, ignoring his metaphors.

“Your father has made the Steward aware of who holds this bounty over you. And against my better judgment, the Steward has issued a city-wide search to hunt him down. But I fear that from this, your father and the people of Minas Tirith are in grave danger.”

“But why? Who ordered the bounty?”

“A very old and well-known enemy of the Steward, I’m afraid. He refers to himself as Baldred the Bloody, and the Steward will stop at nothing to see this man’s end.” The wizard’s lip twitched as he spoke, clearly upset at the matter. “Your father was a fool for not keeping his secret.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what this meant for your family. If your father had truly been loaning money from one of the Steward’s most notorious adversaries, it would only spell treason and disgrace to your family name. It didn’t matter if your father and the Steward had known each other for over thirty years. None of the good deeds your father had helped would matter in the grand scheme of this treasonous act. And if the Steward was willing to go to such great lengths to kill this Baldred, there was no telling what would happen to your father.

“They’ll kill him,” you muttered. “Won’t they?”

Gandalf refused to answer, but his eyes told you more than enough. All you needed was a look to tell you your answer.

You fell to your knees, the news weighing down on your already heavy soul. Hadn’t your family already been through enough? Hadn’t you been through enough? 

It was no doubt that all of your father’s mistakes were caused by him alone; it was a trait you despised him for. You loathed how he cowered in his pride, even when it would bring him to his demise. 

But even so, you knew he didn’t deserve death.

“I don’t know how much time he has left. And Baldred will only continue to shed more blood if it means keeping himself hidden from the Steward.” He leaned down to your eye level now, an old and weathered hand resting on top of yours for comfort. But it did little to help.

“I can’t stay here, Gandalf.” You spoke. “I can’t bring Thorin any more trouble than I already have.”

“Whatever you choose to do,” he replied. “Know that you are not alone.”

You nodded, trying your best to believe it yourself. But you’d have to leave Fíli here. And who knows when you’d see Kíli or Ori again. Not to mention, Gandalf couldn’t show up conveniently every time you were in danger.

“Take me home, Gandalf.”

The dice had been cast. You had made up your mind. You would return home in the hopes of being able to help your father in some way. But you didn’t know how or when it would come about. Or most of all, if you would even make it in time.

Your future and the future of those you cared about was now in the hands of the fates. And you could only hope that you would survive to see it.

[mushroomnoodles]

the lovers/vampire au hcdump part 2, with a focus on petrigrof (characters drawn in my style)

once again putting under a read more; these are notes ive put down while riding home from work on the bus. here's pt 1 btw.

On the subject of THE HANGED MAN

something simon thinks about often is the sheer stagnance of vampirekind. vampires are a species that stay the same forever- they don't evolve or change; hell, the vampire kingdom is old school, even to simon.

simon is physically weaker than an average vampire- he suspects this is due to the radiation poisoning he suffered from before being turned. it takes him longer to heal and he doesn't have possess vampire strength the others of his kind have.

simon doesnt really mind this- he merely observes this fact. his body stayed the same way it was the morning betty bit him; the same way it was after her bite mutated and changed his body for the last time. plus, simon is a man of habit.

a thousand years of life with betty has made simon more open with her; they talk, like, about how they feel, how their relationship feels.

simon has grown quite philosophical and his field of study has expanded. being undead gives him this subconscious duty to put his eternal life to good use: the library. an ode to scholars and thinkers, adventurers and collectors. an ode to the humanity he left behind.

he always says sorry to the few humans he's ever directly fed from.

simon has only fallen to blood frenzy once.

simon's library is quite frankly, huge. you can't reach the books on half the shelves without flight or telekinesis.

current research focus is on procuring the ice crown. (he would be immune to its effects as a vampire)

simon refuses assistants and servants because they make him feel weird, despite the fact THE LOVERS could absolutely have them in their chambers.

simon loves his side job as a professor btw. he always gets so cheery and dorky when it's that time of the year for him to get his students.. and he loves history!! he definitely goes on old man rants about "his day" every now and then

being pregnant with morrigan made him wonder if perhaps there WAS a cure for vampirism after all. he'd entertained the thought every now and then despite the fact that everything he looked into claimed it couldn't happen. but if his body could still remember how to function like a human's, then it didn't seem so impossible to him.

On the subject of THE WORLD

a great strategist- but she misses traveling the world, researching and hunting for ancient artifacts with simon. this is not her dream.

cooking food was a love language and hobby for her. sux when you and your hubby can't eat food.

loves making morrigan snacks (they're a living vampire and can eat food!)

betty's whole thing is.. improvise. adapt. overcome. she keeps working hard so she can keep winning hard.

her fangs are VERY long. they always jut out of her mouth despite her best efforts, and she has to hide her mouth when incognito.

that makes it kinda hard to kiss simon but she's had a thousand years of practice!

due to the length of her fangs, her feeding bites are always fatal.

she is considered very beautiful. simon agrees

spends a lot of time out and about. she is also the vampire king's current advisor, so she spends a lot of time by his side. it's probably a good thing, and a better thing he trusts her. but she worries. she isn't as ruthless with the subject of conquest as others would like. sure, vampires are powerful, but taking over everything.. would upset the balance of life. they'd exhaust their resources.

she can be pretty scary. betty has learned to project an intimidating persona to keep up her role as battle strategist and advisor. it helps keep others off her back, too.

betty is in part so successful because she is constantly improving upon herself and adapting, she challenges vampirekind to change. it's just so hard for them to do.

betty adapts well to new settings. she finds it.. reasonably easy to settle into new situations, especially when human spying is involved. she just needs a feel for her surroundings.

betty can be ruthless, sure, especially when simon is involved in the danger. but she remembers her roots. she would never cause harm to a human that was not a threat.

she partially trained marceline to fight before the vampire king took over her training.

she's stressed. simon is her escape. she always gets to their chambers, throws her expensive and intricate robes off.. and embraces simon.

dramatically lounges and climbs all over simon in her sleep. subconsciously heat seeking.

worries that if things come to it and they leave the kingdom, simon will be unhappy. he seems to really like it here.

sleeps naked 80% of the time

[sea-owl]

I has an idea, y'all gotta trust me on this though.

Kate gripped her skirts as she watched the scenery roll by. There was not much else she could do. The king has chosen her, so she must go.

"Didi," Edwina muttered across from her.

Kate smiled at her younger sister. At least it wasn't her who was chosen to be the concubine.

When word spread that King Anthony was looking for a new concubine, one to join the other two high ranked concubines, Lady Danbury was quick to do her duty and arrange a meeting for the king to meet with both eligible Sharma sisters. Kate had no worry for herself. No one ever really looked her way, especially with Edwina next to her. She was worried for sweet Edwina, though, who had dreams of marrying a scholar, of being in love. Mary, Edwina's mother and Kate's stepmother, was quick to refuse until Edwina spoke up.

"A cocubine's family are well taken care of, and it's only a meeting. He might not even choose one of us."

Kate remembers squeezing Edwina's arm. It was true the money received would help their family but Kate did not want that at her sister's happiness. After all who would not choose Edwina?

On the day of the meeting a handsome man with chestnut hair and brown eyes exited the carriage. Behind him a curvy red head who appeared to be the same age as Edwina. She wore a golden necklace with the royal family's pendant, something all concubines wear.

"Lady Penelope," Lady Danbury whispered to the three Sharma women. "She was the first of the King's concubines and is often with him when a new one is chosen as a sort of welcoming."

Kate wanted to be sick. There was no way this young woman was the first concubine. It is a well-known fact that King Anthony took his first concubine five years ago. Kate remembers hearing the stories of the king announcing it when all of his family members were away from court. It created such a scandal for the king to restart that old tradition from his grandather's time. No one suspected the young king to take any after his father had only ever taken his wife, the Dowager Queen. If Kate was doing her math right then Lady Penelope had to be only 15 when the king chose her.

"Your majesty, my lady," Lady Danbury bowed. The Sharma women followed her lead.

The dinner was pleasant. King Anthony was a gentleman and Lady Penelope was rather witty. At one point the king left with Lady Danbury and Mary to speak on some sort of business. Lady Penelope was left with Kate and Edwina.

"It has been so wonderful to meet both of you," Lady Penelope. "Anthony has told me you have only moved here about two years ago. I would have never guessed!"

Kate smiled proudly. "Thank you Lady Penelope. I trained my sister in everything she knows."

Lady Penelope turned her full attention on Kate. "Really?"

Edwina nodded. "Yes, Kate is a fantastic teacher."

Penelope smiled, one a little different than from before. "If you don't mind I would love to learn something from such a fantastic teacher."

"Let me teach you how to make a proper cup of tea," Kate laughed as she called for the ingredients.

Lady Danbury, Mary, and the King returned not long after. Was it Kate, or did Lady Penelope and the King just send a silent message to one another?

"How was your time with the Ms. Sharmas?" The King asked.

"Oh, we've had a lovely time," Lady Penelope said. "Ms Kate even showed me how to make tea from her home! Would you like to try some?"

"No thank you," the king declined.

Lady Penelope rolled her eyes. "I know it's not your usual night cap but something new or different won't throw you out of balance."

"Are you the superstitious type your majesty?"

"No!" The king said at the same time Lady Penelope said, "Yes!"

"Ah I see. Some men like that find it hard to perform without certain tools like a child with a blanket."

The kings face went red while Lady Penelope burst out into giggles.

"Hush you," the King ordered Lady Penelope who's giggles were only made worse. "Time for you to head off to bed."

Kate tried not to blush the next morning when she saw Lady Penelope yawning as she left the king's room.

"Oh Ms. Sharma!" Lady Penelope greeted. "Congratulations!"

Kate felt a hole open beneath her feet. King Anthony chose-

"I can't wait to see you next week at the Garden Palace!"

What?

"Admitly it would be easier just to have you come with us back to the Garden Palace today but we do need time to get your rooms ready."

Huh?

Lady Penelope noticed Kate's confusion, then became confused herself. "Ms. Sharma?"

"I'm sorry my lady," Kate said. "If my sister was chosen to be the new concubine why would I go to the Garden Palace?"

Lady Penelope giggled. "Your sister wasn't chosen to be the new concubine Ms. Sharma. Or I should say Lady Kate."

Kate's mind went blank.

Now a week later Kate found herself in front of the Garden Palace dressed in fine purple silk and with a new shiny gold necklace. Though there was this odd marking on the back of the bee pendent. If Kate had to guess it would be a picture of an Iris flower. A flower commonly associated with wisdom of Kate was remembering correctly.

"Didi it's s so beautiful," Edwina muttered.

"It is Bon," Kate agreed.

The Garden Palace has always been the home for the king's concubines and where he spreads his seed. It wasn't used much during King Edmund's time besides to house the last of his father's concubines, but King Anthony has made use for it again. As the name suggests, there are a multitude of gardens around the palace, all filled with the most beautiful flowers. A few contain food and herbs. The palace servants are all women as men besides the king, his family, and those invited by the king were forbidden from entering. There are gaurds who were once traditionally physically castrated but apparently, the king had found someone who could make a tea that would temporarily do the same thing as traditional castration without all the mess. Those who take the tea are watched every morning to make sure they take it.

"Lady Kate! Ms Sharma!"

There to greet them was Lady Penelope dressed in green and a blonde woman dressed in silver with the same gold necklace. Just behind them were a red head who was in her teens, and a plump blonde the same age as Edwina. Their clothes weren't as fine as a concubines but still nicer than a serving girl's. Lady's maids maybe?

"How wonderful to meet you," the blonde concubine bowed. "I am Lady Sophie."

The two other girls bowed. "I am Felicity, I serve as Lady Penelope's head lady in waiting," the red head said.

"And I am Posy," the plump girl introduced herself. "I am the head lady in waiting for Lady Sophie."

"Posy and Felicity will show Ms. Sharma around," Lady Sophie said. "Meanwhile there are a few things we should talk about Lady Kate with her new position as a high ranking concubine. "

Kate held back a shiver.

The Ladies in Waiting ran off with Edwina while Kate followed her fellow concubines to a private room.

"So am I to expect the king tonight?" Kate asked.

"Probably at dinner," Lady Penelope answered, "but I think he has to go back to Aubrey Palace tonight."

Kate blinked. Well, at least she'll have some time to put this off.

Lady Penelope watched Kate. "Lady Kate as the newest concubine we have some things to tell you."

Tell her? Was it how best to please the king? Maybe some tricks they've picked up. After all with their rank he would spend the most time with them.

"Anthony won't touch you if you do not want it, and outside of meetings he doesn't go to a lady's room unless invited."

Kate blinked. And then she blinked again, and again. "I'm sorry what?"

Lady Penelope and Lady Sophie giggled.

"While it is true some of the women here are actual concubines, it's all consensual between them and Anthony," Lady Sophie explained. "He has a rather protective streak of those he believes that are under his care. You've probably seen it with how he acts towards his siblings. Others like myself and Penelope, who are here for protection, are still chaste."

Kate's jaw dropped. There's no way. She turned towards the red head. "But I saw you leave his room at Lady Danbury's."

Lady Penelope waved her hand. "We were discussing whether or not to bring you on. I was in favor for it. You're just what the Iris Council needs."

Kate furrowed her eyebrows. "The Iris Council."

Lady Penelope and Lady Sophie flipped their bee pendants to reveal that same etched in iris flower on the back.

"Anthony was young when the previous king passed," Lady Penelope explained. "The lords were like sharks out for blood, and he knew he needed a council who would be loyal to him and couldn't be easily influenced from the outside. Naturally, he thought of his siblings first, but the princes and princesses were too public of figures. Concubines however were much harder to access and really who expect a king to surround himself in a council of women?"

"So what are your real roles and what am I to do?"

The king's voice spoke behind Kate. "Penelope is my spy mistress. Sophie is my chief financial advisor."

Lady Penelope and Lady Sophie waved. "Hi Anthony."

Kate was about to stand to bow but the king raised a hand to signal her to stop. Instead he took a seat next to her.

"So what is my role to be here?" Kate asked.

"I want you to run the Garden Palace."

"Run the Garden Palace?" Kate repeated. "Why not just hire me as to do that role then, why make me a concubine?"

"It's because of the Iris Council and the need to keep their existence quiet," Anthony explained. "While they are ultimately self-sufficient and are loyal to me, I need someone to work as my second in command and leqder of the Garden Palace. Penelope looked into your background, and you've proven yourself as a head of house. You know how to manage people. Perfect for the position."

"Huh," Kate muttered. "I guess the rumors the king being a Capitol R rake are just rumors."

Anthony nodded in agreement.

"Oh no he's a whore."

Penelope and Sophie giggled when Kate whipped her head towards them.

Anthony sent them a glare. "Hush both of you."

[see-arcane]

Everything is happening so much in today's entry and while the Bloofer Lady bloofing all over the place is meant to be the co-star of the show, alongside the Great Document Exchange of Vampire Lore between Mina and Van Helsing--or, specifically, Mina entrusting Van Helsing with her husband's private diary and a desperate hope that she can trust this man with this and her own turmoil over the subject and that of Lucy--listening to the @re-dracula version kind of veered my focus off track. Hearing the dialogue in action will do that.

And now I'm left fitfully, unhappily re-chewing on some of Van Helsing's least sparkling attributes in the novel. Not the worst! Those are coming, and all of them still very much well-meaning! But the well-meaning does not take away from the fact that a lot of his commentary has and will continue to make me want to grind my teeth into dust.

Now, does the narrative manage to take all his benign sexism/secret keeping from those who need info is best! bullshit in its very sharp teeth and ragdoll it mercilessly with The Consequences of Acting Like This are Very High, Actually repercussions? Yes.

Do I hope with every fiber of my being that, when Certain Events happen, and Van Helsing has to contend with--

SPOILERS BELOW

Jonathan going full ice cold Fuck You, Fuck This, Fuck God for letting this happen and then burning her for it, come October 3rd,

and Mina being the one to take the brain reins of the operation out of his hands,

and Jonathan Blowing Right the Fuck Up at the old man for saying Mina has to come along with him to Castle fucking Dracula, with zero explanation, assuming everyone will just go along with this decision sans explanation, complete with Jonathan cementing himself as Not One of Van Helsing's Ducklings if he, like God, does not start pulling some sound logic and results out of his ass right this fucking second,

--that the Re: Dracula audio hammers home that VH is not only a flawed character rather than the Mega Genius Does-No-Wrong Scholar Vampire Hunter Hero, but has to reconcile with the Harkers existing outside the mold that we'll have come to find the Suitor Squad locking into (and that the Harkers themselves very very grudgingly squeezed into for a time, grating against every minute of it) because the Harkers do in fact have equal or greater intel/ability on their side than he does.

I don't say any of this to crap on the character of Van Helsing. He's honestly a great vessel for all the pluses and minuses of the Elder Generation That Means Well, But Fumbles Details. The man is genuinely self-sacrificing and earnest in all his efforts to help these young people he barely knows, and then works with the tools and people he has on hand to try and root out an unthinkable supernatural peril before it can start drinking the whole country into the grave. We'll see in much later chapters how down he is to throw himself and his life on the line to give someone else better odds. And even if it's only by (still period-accurate sexist) inches, he does learn a little better eventually.

...But god damn, does his quirky sexist/secret keeper/Follow My Orders No Questions Asked, Silly Incapable-of-Understanding Children mannerisms need their fucking teeth kicked in. I sincerely pray that Isabel Young and Ben Galpin get to deliver on flipping the table in audio drama format with all the thematic tune bells and whistles they deserve when the time comes.

[cosmerelists]

If Cosmere Characters were in the Locked Tomb series...

[Spoilers for Stormlight Archive through Rhythm of War AND for Locked Tomb through Nona the Ninth!]

Specifically, I am imagining which pairs of Cosmere characters would be best suited as the necromancer/cavalier pairs we meet in the Locked Tomb series. 

I cannot emphasize enough that if you’re coming here from Cosmere and have not read the Locked Tomb series, please skip this one! I am spoiling MAJOR plot points, and I don’t want to ruin these books for you! 

1. Ninth House: Shallan (as Harrow) and Adolin (as Gideon)

In the Ninth House, Gideon is the big, beefy, lady-loving himbo who really doesn’t know anything but sword fighting and porn mags. And Adolin may not read porn (because Sanderson) but he is a big ol’ devoted swordsman who has his himbo moments. Meanwhile there’s necromancer Harrow who:

Lived as a cloistered nun (=Shallan being shut up at home)

Pretends her dead parents are totes alive (=Shallan pretending her dad is alive)

Puppets dead people (=somewhat similar to Shallan with her Alters)

Gets herself lobotomized to suppress memories of Gideon (=Shallan suppressing, just, so many memories)

Guards the Locked Tomb but is also obsessed with what lies inside (=Shallan and her “mother’s soul” in the safe)

Is forced to leave home to restore her dying house (=Shallan doing, well, the same thing)

So even though Shallan isn’t exactly a bone-obsessed necromancer, she and Harrow have more in common than you may at first think!

2. Eighth House: Nightblood (as Silas) and Vasher (as Colum)

The Eighth House are soul siphoners, meaning that the necromancer uses the cavalier as a big ol’ battery. They’re also deeply religious and inflexible, at least in their Silas & Colum iteration. Now, I was trying hard to think of a Cosmere character who has powers akin to soul siphoning when it suddenly came to me! Nightblood! Nightblood literally does eat souls! Plus, Nightblood is notoriously inflexible in their whole “Kill Evil” standpoint. I could have used either Vasher or Szeth as the cavalier to pair with Nightblood, but I use Szeth below and anyway, Colum/Vasher have the longer history with Silas/Nightblood. 

3. Seventh House: Taravangian (as Dulcinea) and Szeth (as Protesilaus)

Dulcinea is a beautiful and sickly necromancer, having inherited her house’s traditional Blood Cancer, and she mostly lies around being beautiful and flirting with Gideon. However, it is eventually revealed that she’s not Dulcinea at all but rather big bad (?) Cytherea in disguise. And the cavalier Protesilaus is dead and just being puppetted around. This is all reminiscent of Taravangian, who pretends to be a kindly and sickly old man, harmless to all...but is actually a devious mass-murderer who is puppetting Szeth (by controlling his oathstone). 

4. Sixth House: Kaladin (as Palamedes) and Syl (as Camilla)

My love for Palamedes and Camilla knows no bounds, so this one was hard. But in the end, I think Kaladin & Syl fit the bill. Palamedes is incredibly smart and trained in medicine, ala Kaladin, and he and his cavalier Camilla have incredible amounts of trust in each other. They work together seamlessly, as do Kaladin and Syl. And if they ever get separated, say by Palamedes blowing himself up into many little bits, they will nevertheless do whatever it takes to find each other--which reminds me of Syl fighting to get back to Kaladin when he semi broke his oaths in Words of Radiance. Camilla also tries to downplay how smart she is to some extent, and Syl can literally be invisible if she wants to be. Plus, Kal and Pal rhyme, so there. 

5. Fifth House: Jasnah (as Abigail) and Ivory (as Magnus)

I mean, Jasnah pretty much had to be Abigail, since Abigail is a published scholar and the best historian of her generation. That’s Jasnah to a tee...even if perhaps Abigail tends to come across as a bit warmer than Jasnah. Magnus was harder because he’s (a) Abigial’s husband (and Jasnah is unmarried and Wit super doesn’t fit), (b) mostly an administrator / bureaucrat and ( c) a jolly sort who likes to play the embarrassing dad role. I went with Ivory as he is Jasnah’s true partner as her spren, and as a logicspren I think he’d make a good adminstrator perhaps. He’s not exactly a jolly father-figure, but what can you do?

6. Fourth House: Daorn (as Isaac) and Kaise (as Jeannemary)

The Fourth House is hard because their main characteristic is that they are literally children, and then they die. And I was having a very hard time trying to think of any pair of children who die or who even exist as a pair in Sanderson. So eventually I went with the children from Elantris--Sarene’s nephew and niece Daorn and Kaise. Mostly because they’re smart, somewhat sassy children. And Kaise knows some fencing, so that sort of fits for a cavalier. 

[Spoilers for Lost Metal but apparently Kaise grows up to join the Ghostbloods on Scadrial??? I had no idea that was her until I was looking her up in the wiki holy shit]

8. Third House: Siri (as Ianthe), Vivenna (as Coronabeth), and Parlin (as Naberius)

In the Third House we have two beautiful sisters...one of whom ends up being a “spare” who isn’t a necromancer at all (and it’s not the one you think at first). In a similar way, Vivenna and Siri were both tapped at various points to marry the god-king; everyone thought it would be Vivenna with Siri being the spare sister, but it ended up being the other way around. Siri/Ianthe then end up in the house of the resident god and are fiercely loyal to him. Vivenna/Coronabeth meanwhile join up with rebel forces who are opposed to the god that Siri/Ianthe follow. Yet still the sisters do care deeply for each other, even when they find themselves working toward opposite ends. Phew! Oh, and I’m not really sure who should be their (sacrificed) cavalier, but Parlin is there as a protector and then he dies, so...I guess him? Despite them having really nothing else in common; sorry Parlin/Naberius! 

9. Second House: Rlain (as Judith) and Eshonai (as Marta)

The second house is the strictly military one, so at first I was trying to make someone from Bridge 4 work, but it didn’t quite come together. Judith and Rlain do have a lot in common: they both work at gathering intelligence, serve as a spy after being taken in by an organization against their will (Judith with Blood of Eden and Rlain being sent to Bridge 4 which was not originally his mission), and are incredibly loyal through their chain of command. And they both have military training / experience. Meanwhile, Marta is just a star--she rises quickly through the miliary ranks, but then she dies before we get to know her much. Eshonai is a lot more fleshed out, but I am thinking about how she too quickly rose through the military ranks as she adopted Warform and shardplate and Stormform. And then she died, so.

10. First House: Dalinar (as John) and Evi (as A.L.)

John Gaius is, well, god--and he has what could be described as a problematic past (did you know that cows have best friends?). Dalinar may not be god, but he did bond the closest equivalent, the Stormfather, and Dalinar is pretty much the head of the Radiants, must as John is the head of the empire. Speaking of, both John and Dalinar built an empire! Meanwhile, there’s John’s “dead” cavalier A.L., whose name is not to be spoken--which reminds me of Evi, whose existence was literally excised from Dalinar’s head at one point. Now, it doesn’t seem like Evi is going to return and stab Dalinar where he sleeps, but, well, the series isn’t over yet...