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Death & Dowries

Summary: The Iron Bank of Braavos will always have its due. But dowries make things…complicated and the pride of men knows no bounds. A bargain is struck between a Keyholder of the Iron Bank and Tywin Lannister and the life of an adventurous woman is suddenly uprooted as she is made the newest Lady of Casterly Rock. But the wedding of King Joffrey Baratheon and Lady Margaery Tyrell brings a familiar face to King’s Landing and a Braavosi woman always has a backup plan.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand/F!Reader, (arranged) Tywin Lannister/F!Reader, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand

WARNINGS: Spousal abuse, death, murder, lite smut, my over-use of italics, mentions of child birth and babies (please DO NOT read if any of this will upset you)

Word Count: 12.1k (heavy sigh)

(banner by my love @starlight-starwrites )

A/N: The italics denote the “present” time. Circa Season 7 Episode 7. I’m going to throw a lot of ASOIAF lore at you so, if you have ANY questions, please just ask!

You can read this on Ao3, if you prefer!

She had hoped to never step foot into this wretched city again. But Cersei had called and she knew she must answer to keep the unstable queen from looking too closely. And, of course, she wanted to see a dragon.

What she did not expect to see was a familiar shade of yellow and orange while a recognizable laugh rang in the tense air. She froze at the entrance and her handmaiden smacked into her back. “I am so sorry, my lady,” she whispered.

The sudden noise drew attention and soon Oberyn and Ellaria were standing from their seats, kind eyes locked on her.

Westeros was nothing that her father had promised when he set her on the ship and sent her away from home. It was supposed to be exciting and new and beautiful and everything she wanted in a home. Instead, she had been gifted a cold castle filled with portraits of a woman who she was supposed to be replacing and an old man for a betrothed.

But even the Keyholders of the Iron Bank of Braavos knew of Tywin Lannister. "He is a powerful man. You will be well-cared for and loved by the people you govern, my sweet," her father said, his smile not quite touching his eyes. "That is all I want for you."

It was a lie. A pretty lie, but a lie all the same. Her father and a handful of other Keyholders all had daughters of the marrying age and had created a terrible, unspoken game between them. Everything had a price. Especially to the men and women who controlled the keys to the Iron Bank.

Dowries for their daughters were boasted and bartered. Whomever paid the most, bragged that their line was as coveted as a princess.

It was all ridiculous. A stupid game. Especially for people who usually wanted to protect their coin.

Y/N was thankful she had no sisters so that they would not be subjected to this prick-measuring game, too.

Whispers had spread through Braavos when her father had set her betrothal.

It was a dowry worthy of four princesses of old, surely.

But Tywin Lannister would not see a single coin.

An almost flawless plan, Y/N thought. Her father would pay half of the Iron Throne's debts to the Bank in exchange for Y/N becoming the new Lady of Casterly Rock. For as large as her dowry was, Y/N was only slightly amused at how small her wedding festivities were when she arrived at King’s Landing. A handful of people, mostly Lannisters and their bannermen, and the three handmaidens she had brought with her from Braavos. The furnishings were fine and the food was almost salted correctly but it was small. Tywin wrapped her in a crimson red cloak and kissed her with unmoving lips and she had become Lady Y/N Lannister, a lion of the rock.

And that was it. Little fanfare and her life was completely uprooted. And as the days continued to pass, she doubted she would ever find a bit of happiness in her new station.

She had to keep herself from yawning as Tywin rutted above her, grunting like an old boar. But he finished soon enough and rolled off of her and grabbed his robe. As soon as it was fastened around his waist, he strode out of her chambers without a look back.

The door opened soon after and her small horde of handmaidens quickly entered, already bringing her a steaming pot of tea and a balm for her skin where her lord husband always clutched too tight.

She had given up on telling him it hurt after the first fortnight and considered herself at least a little lucky that the old man still knew how to move his hips.

“How do you fare, my lady?” One handmaiden asked in the lilting tongue of the Braavosi dialect of High Valyrian. She quickly pressed a cup of tea into Y/N’s hands.

“Better, now that you are all here with me.”

One took to changing the bed coverings and another helped her stand and quickly began to wash her skin with steaming water scented with roses. The tea was bitter on her tongue but she quickly drank it and let another handmaiden take the empty cup from her hand as soon as it was finished.

“Have the kitchen maids asked what the tea is again?”

“Not since we told them it was a magical potion to guarantee a boy and that it was filled with the blood of a calf and ash from the Doom.” One of them smiled, remembering how the nosey maids nearly fainted at the sound of their lie. It was an ingenious ruse, if she was being honest. Y/N knew that most of the servants in Casterly Rock reported to Tywin about her movements and the company she kept. Thinking she was a witch who relied on bloodmagic easily discounted anything they whispered to her lord husband. And it also kept them from truly investigating her tea—not that anyone on this stupid continent would be able to name it anyway. The root her handmaids boiled for her every time Tywin visited her chamber was not anything magical or arcane.

It was an old recipe from the famed pleasure houses of Braavos—to prevent pregnancy. And it was working remarkably well. The maester had confirmed her fertility so she knew Tywin was probably doubting his own ability as the months continued to trickle by and she was yet to become pregnant. The thought made her laugh. As did the truth that Tywin would never get he had anticipated with the betrothal agreement he had signed with her father. She had decided that as soon as he had sneered at her on their wedding night and said, “I suppose you will do,” before taking what he needed from her body without care for her at all. And whenever he visited her bed, his hands were always too tight, too rough and would not relent even when tears pricked at her eyes and slid down her cheeks. He never stopped. He never cared. Even when his dislike of her as a person evolved to curling his hands into her arms and leaving her with swollen eyes and tender skin. He always made sure they were alone when he raised his hands to her, but he seemed fond of doing so whenever she ever disagreed with him.

She knew that other Keyholders thought her father foolish for her hefty dowry—a steep price to pay for pride. But her mother once said that while blood will open the door, clout will get you a seat at the table.

Her father had the gold to spare, she supposed. And she always wanted a kingdom of her own.

Now…now one was finally within her grasp. Even if it came with such a poor consort. That was what she told herself, anyway.

Just as she was dressed for the day, her chamber door opened again and a servant strode in, eyes darting around the gaggle of women as if searching for something to report. His mouth opened and he informed them all that Lord Tywin had been called to the Riverlands and left her in charge of Casterly Rock. She had heard whispers of the War of the Five Kings from high and lowborn alike. It was a shame that she was kept so far from the action she was so accustomed to at least witnessing with a spyglass from her chamber windows. The Keyholders often had a stake in the wars fought around Westeros and Essos. Having allies in positions of power meant they were in positions of power—and funding their successes meant that they had bargaining chips in collecting debts. Plus interest.

She almost smiled. Finally, a bit of intrigue.

Y/N took her seat under the canopy after dismissing her handmaidens and guards, telling them to treat themselves to a well-earned drink at a nearby inn as she noticed the incoming crowd of Dothraki, ‘escorted’ by a band of knights. She only let her eyes move to see Oberyn and Ellaria, the Dornish envoy, for a moment. Their reaction to her arrival had been just as unexpected as their presence. Dangerous. Dangerous.

This whole game was dangerous. And now the King in the North and the Dragon Queen had called for a temporary armistice for some strange reason.

“They tell me that the Westerlands have been flourishing.”

The voice at her side almost had her jumping. It was Tyrion, looking far more bristled than the last time she had seen him, when he had been carted away to the Black Cells. “Yes, well. Apparently I’m quite suited for the task.”

Tyrion’s answering smile was small and he nodded just once. “Yes, I suppose my father would have taught you well-”

“He had nothing to do with it.”

Casterly Rock was a delight to have to herself. Even the servants who would whisper her movements into her lord husband’s ear seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when each raven stated Tywin would be away from his seat of power for another fortnight and then another and another. When the Westerlands were being raided by Northmen, led by the adorably pugnacious King Robb Stark, she was happy to open the gates to allow some of the children and ladies of sworn houses to take shelter in the fortress and to give food and water to the knights and bannermen who made camp outside their walls before setting off toward battle.

She arranged marriages between houses and presided over small disagreements brought before her to settle. It reminded her of the time she spent with her dearest friend Bellegere at her famed pleasure house in Braavos and how Bellegere managed each and every bit of everything under her roof and made it all seem so effortless.

That was her kingdom.

And now Casterly Rock was Y/N’s, and she would let no one take it from her.

No one.

“You are happy, my lady,” one of her handmaidens said as they retired for the night. It had been two moons since Tywin had left her to play at war. “I have not seen you this happy since before we left Braavos.”

Y/N hummed and let her wipe the day’s dirt from her skin with a roll of silk dampened with cold cream. “I suppose I should start finding some sort of happiness, no?” She sighed. “Are you happy here?”

Her handmaidens nodded, varying degrees of smiles on their faces. “You know that we had no happiness in Braavos. You have given us hope, just as you have given these strange people hope, too.” They helped her into her sleeping gown and Y/N remembered the places she had plucked her handmaidens from. Cruel noble homes, cruel lowborn homes, temples with dark corners, merchant shops filled with bright tapestries, pleasure houses. Each of them found a new place beside Y/N. And she found friends with them, security and safety.

“We can find a home here,” Y/N whispered to each of them before bidding them goodnight. And she hoped it was true. She needed it to be true.

When the raven came, telling her to come to King’s Landing, she was hesitant to pack her trunks and arrange for the castellan to oversee the governance of Casterly Rock. But she had duties. And, despite knowing she was actively keeping herself from completing one of them, she knew she could not refuse Tywin Lannister. Especially after the Realm (or at least part of it) was hailing him as a hero for breaking the siege on King’s Landing and managing to gain the allegiance of the Reach—such a stupid name for a kingdom—for the Crown. So, she had her trunks packed with her fine gowns and made sure the guests she had allowed to stay in Casterly Rock would be looked after before having the traveling party readied for the trek across the continent. One of the knights, a man who reeked of strongwine and needed to trim his beard, spoke animatedly about the battles Tywin won across the Westerlands and Riverlands on behalf of his grandson, Joffrey. “For the betterment of the Realm,” the knight would finish each story. She doubted it. But she pretended to listen anyway. Y/N truly did not care to listen to the finite details or commit most of them to memory. What she did, however, notice was the distinct smell of piss and soured bread as soon as her wheelhouse and travelling party crested the hill just outside the city gates after several weeks of being confined to the wheelhouse or stuffy inn rooms.

“My lady,” one of her handmaiden’s muttered, “we are going to suffocate.”

Y/N patted her hand with a sigh before spilling a bit of perfume onto each of their kerchiefs to hold under their noses. “Perhaps they will have a garden where we can escape the stench.”

When they arrived at the Red Keep—and such an unimaginative name—she was almost pleased to see that most of the royal family and quite a few courtiers and servants had come to welcome them. Cersei, a face she knew well from the many portraits in the halls of Casterly Rock, only offered a quick sneer and an insincere, “welcome, Lady Lannister, to King’s Landing,” before she quickly left. Joffrey, the brat-boy-king if the whispers were true, looked suspiciously like his mother and also offered a sneer. Tommen was far kinder and offered to show her to her chambers but she declined, knowing that having a prince show her around like a servant would only gain her more ire from the queen dowager.

And then that left…

“Lady Stark,” Y/N said, stepping to the redhead’s side. Yes, she knew of Sansa Stark. The sad little Northern girl who saw her father’s head put on a spike—and apparently one of her brothers was one of the Five Kings running around causing amuck. How fun.

The younger girl curtseyed and murmured a soft hello. “I hope you find the capitol pleasing, my lady.”

She hummed and reached out to take Sansa’s and, wrapping it into the crook of her arm. “I doubt I will. But I shall like it if we were to become friends.”

Sansa’s blue eyes flittered across Y/N’s face and then to the small hoard of handmaidens behind her. “Whatever you wish, my lady.”

Weeks trickled by and Y/N found herself actually enjoying the company of the little wolf pup. She detested the Lannisters and had a quick but sweet wit when she was not in the company of Cersei or Joffrey who seemed to terrify her to no end. Y/N found it funny that Cersei assumed she would report anything and everything Sansa did while in her company. “What would you have her do other than enjoy a bit of tea and some lemon cakes? It is not as if you have given her duties beyond looking pretty.” Her handmaidens even told her that Cersei requested they report back anything they heard Sansa say.

“The poor girl,” they mused. “She is alone here.”

“Yes,” Y/N agreed, “and so are we.” And they were. They were still whispered about by servants and courtiers alike, their movements watched like a mummers’ performance and then hissed into the queen or the new Hand of the King’s ears. The only time they found themselves truly alone was when they were in the company of the Tyrells. Margaery and Olenna were gratuitous social climbers but at least they were smart and she did not feel the need to continue to play the dutiful Lady Lannister in their presence. They had no real love for the Lannisters aside from realizing that the golden lions were the true power in this stupid kingdom and knowing that they needed to at least have a few of them on their side. And Sansa seemed a little relaxed in their presence as well. After her betrothal to Joffrey was broken in favor of Margaery and the Tyrell gold, the young redhead was a tiny bit more…unclenched, especially after being pressed to detail the abuse she survived at the hands of the brat king. Y/N remembered gently wiping the tears away from Sansa’s cheeks after they left the Tyrells. Sansa had recounted her abuse at the hands of Joffrey and his mother. “It is over now, little pup. He shall not harm you again. I promise you that.”

Sansa only nodded and was still very guarded and it was smart to be so but Y/N was happy to see her smile a little more freely.

The smiles stopped when Tywin announced that Sansa was to wed Tyrion.

The girl cried and cried and cried. But only when they were alone and the lemon cakes she’d taken from the kitchen were only crumbs. Shae, Sansa’s handmaiden, always lingered after being dismissed. Y/N was sure she was another spy—but not for Cersei. But it did not matter. What mattered was the crying wolf pup in her arms.

“I can’t do it. I can’t,” Sansa cried, tears wetting Y/N’s dress.

Y/N could only shush her sobs, knowing that Tywin always had his due—well, almost always. “I will make sure you are safe, pup. I promise you that.”

Y/N stood, as she was expected to do, when Cersei entered the Dragon Pit and curtseyed as Cersei moved in front of her to take her own seat. The air was tense. Everyone was staring at each other, measuring threats with bated breath.

Y/N had been surprised to see Theon Greyjoy present—after all, it had been a Greyjoy fleet that had destroyed the ship that was carrying little Princess Myrcella back to the Red Keep from Sunspear. It had been a Greyjoy that had given the final push for Cersei to descend into her carefully curated madness. But, then again, Cersei had a Greyjoy of her own, too. Verbal volleys were made and Y/N might have enjoyed listening to the traded barbs but she continued to feel someone’s gaze on the side of her face.

She knew who was looking at her—it did not take any stretch of imagination or serious thought.

She knew.

And a dragon roared overhead.

“Take this, pup.” Y/N curled Sansa’s shaking fingers around the small bottle with an even smaller smile.

“What is it?” Sansa was beautiful in her golden wedding dress—beautiful and sad. Handmaidens had just finished twisting her hair into the ridiculous braids Cersei was so fond of and then scattered when Y/N and her flock of Braavosi women arrived. They had taken to dashing away when the Braavosi women arrived after Y/N had all but screamed at them when they would not let Sansa have a moment alone after news of the tactlessly named Red Wedding had reached King’s Landing. Her entire family—gone. Y/N would not see the little pup suffer for another moment.

It had earned her a busted lip and a sore wrist from her dear husband.

“It is a gift.” Y/N patted Sansa’s hand. “One drop will give you a night’s reprieve from your husband. The entire bottle will give your husband…a reprieve of his breath.”

Sansa turned and turned and turned the bottle in her hand. “Poison?”

“Yes, pup. And it is merely a precaution. I would not have you fear for your life in your marital bed.”

“Do you think Tyrion would hurt me?”

“He is the gentlest of his siblings, but it is never unwise to have a dagger up your sleeve.” Y/N stood and took Sansa’s hands in hers after watching her carefully tuck the bottle away into the folds of her dress. “Come, I am allowed to escort you to the Sept.”

“We’ve been here for some time,” Cersei said through gritted teeth.

“My apologies.”

Y/N almost snorted at the complete lack of care in the Dragon Queen’s tone as she addressed Cersei for the first time but held a finger under her nose, attempting to hide her smile instead. But Oberyn did openly laugh, only stopping when Ellaria placed a hand on his thigh. When Y/N looked at them, eyes drawn to the pair like a moth to the flame, their smiles grew.

The sound around her died to a low roar. Y/N knew she should be paying attention—the meeting had been called with the premise of saving the Realm—but all she could see was them.

“I am not some lowborn trollop, husband. I will not be seen in anything other than the color that denotes my station.” Y/N stared down at the garish red and gold dress that her husband’s servants had placed on the featherbed just a few moments ago.

“Your station is cemented as my wife—Lady Lannister. You will wear your house’s colors and you will never fight me on something so frivolous again.”

“Oh? And what am I allowed to fight you on?” She retorted, feeling her upper lip curl in a sneer. “If not my clothes, what else? You have decided every bit of my life since I have arrived. Am I not allowed one bit of my home?”

Tywin reached out and struck her across the face. Pain bloomed from her eye to her jaw, throbbing in time with her hammering heart. “You would do well to hold your tongue. I have had enough of listening to your ungrateful words. You are the Lady of Casterly Rock—not a sniveling brat. You will wear this gown and I will not hear another word of it. Am I understood?”

Y/N only nodded, hand cradling her cheek and then Tywin swept from the room.

Silence washed over her like a wave in the big room. She stared down at the red dress. Gold lace lined the sleeves and there was even more of the gaudy lace around the neck—it would probably reach just below her chin.

It was a collar. Soft and expensive. But a collar, she realized.

“My lady?” She turned to see one of her handmaidens stepping in, a frazzled look on her face. “Are you ready for us to help you prepare for the wedding?” The girl’s eyes searched her face as if knowing something was wrong. “My lady?” She asked again when Y/N did not answer.

Y/N sucked in a breath and nodded. “Yes. And I believe we are running late.” She removed her dressing gown and let them start to tie her into the hideous gown. It itched. It did not move like the soft silks of Braavos. It was stiff and uncomfortable. It felt like a cage.

Perhaps that is what it was—a cage and a collar.

But she said nothing as she met Tywin outside his chambers and allowed him to grasp her hand and tuck it into the crux of his arm as he escorted her to the Sept. She said nothing as she took her place in the crowd. She said nothing as the stupid vows were exchanged and Joffrey named Margaery as his queen. She said nothing as she was led out to the grounds for the wedding feast. But she plotted. And her cheek throbbed.

She was seated on the raised dais at Tywin’s side but found herself slightly and strangely comforted by the fact that Sansa was within eyesight. When Tywin left her side to speak with someone—and she truly wasn’t listening nor cared who it was—Y/N quickly stood and walked to Sansa’s side, taking Tyrion’s vacated seat.

“How are you, pup?”

Sansa almost smiled. “Alive.”

“And that is half the battle, no?” She reached out and touched the girl’s hands. “Has he been kind?” Her head tilted just so to indicate Tyrion.

Sansa nodded. “I have no use of your gift yet.” They both sighed and looked out over the crowd. “Weddings are supposed to be happy occasions.”

“Yes, I suppose they are. But we have yet to attend one that is capable of making us smile.” She sighed again and looked back at Sansa, eyes catching the pretty, purple necklace around her throat. The jewels glinted…

“Careful with those, my love,” her mother chided as she pulled the little vials from her daughter’s childish fingers.

“What are they, Mama?”

“It was a gift,” Sansa said, providing an answer for the unasked question.

“From whom?”

“Lord Baelish.”

Y/N hummed and twisted one of the jewels between her fingers before letting it drop back against Sansa’s throat.

Y/N listened to Jon Snow blather on about saving the Realm, about how an army who doesn’t leave corpses was coming and could not be bargained with. Cersei had a few quips of her own and Y/N pondered if she truly needed to have shut herself into a wheelhouse for weeks to travel here just to listen to Cersei complain and foreign monarchs hardly disguise their contempt. But then Sandor Clegane emerged from the underground tunnel with a large crate on his back and the Dragon Pit grew quiet.

He set it down and…nothing happened, even as he removed the lid.

But then he circled back and kicked it over. With a scream, a creature emerged and ran at Cersei. Bone and dried skin and glowing blue eyes. That was all it was.

That and the terrifying scream.

“You look exquisite, child,” Lady Olenna said as she approached Sansa. “The wind has bit at you though.” Olenna glanced at Y/N in acknowledgement, bowing her head just a fraction before focusing on Sansa again, tugging at the ends of her pretty red hair. “I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your brother. War is war, but killing a man at a wedding? Horrid. What sort of monster would do such a thing?” An aged finger traced against Sansa’s cheek. “As if men need more reasons to fear marriage.”

Y/N snorted into her chalice of wine and earned a wink from Olenna over Sansa’s head. But it was the next movement that truly caught Y/N’s attention. Olenna fiddled with Sansa’s necklace before inviting her and Tyrion to Highgarden just as the lion in question approached. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it is time to enjoy this food I paid for.”

Y/N pulled Sansa back into conversation as Olenna departed and noted that one of the strange little gems was now missing from the necklace. What was Olenna planning? Whatever it was, it was sure to be more entertaining than the pretention of this wedding feast. She stood and had Sansa do the same. “Come, pup. It is time we acted like Lannisters, no?” She linked their arms together and led them toward the obnoxiously decorated grounds filled with more food and entertainment.

They both found little enjoyment in the contortionists or the musicians who insisted on playing and replaying The Rains of Castamere on a variety of instruments. But the food was mostly seasoned well.

“Tyrion tells me that a Dornish Prince is in attendance. He’s traveled all over Essos, perhaps he has been to Braavos?” Sansa asked as Y/N found her some lemon cakes and they sequestered themselves away in a dark corner while Y/N sipped on a bit of sweet wine.

“Oh? It would be nice to hear of my home from someone who knows it.” She almost smiled. “I must take you across the Narrow Sea, introduce you to my home. And maybe I can know Winterfell, too.”

Sansa’s smile was small but genuine. “I would like that.”

“But tell me, what is this prince’s name? Perhaps I’ve met him when my lord husband was parading around.”

Sansa wiped the crumbs from her face. “Prince Oberyn Martell.”

Jon Snow was a bigger idiot than Sansa had ever said he was in her missives. Openly proclaiming that he had sworn the North and bent the knee to the Dragon Queen while trying to broker a tentative agreement with an unstable lion was very, very stupid. He could have, should have lied and just agreed to the terms Cersei had laid out, keeping her in the dark about his true allegiance.

But no.

Apparently he had more Stark in him than sense.

Everyone had separated after Cersei had stormed away and Y/N found herself walking toward one of the few places she hadn’t seen anyone retreat to but then-

“Mama!”

Y/N turned and caught the child that had leapt into the air, knowing his mother would catch him.

A soft murmur of her name had her freezing.

He looked so similar. Barely anything had changed since the last time she had seen him, all too briefly nearly a decade ago. The same self-assured gait. The same sparkle in his eyes. The same charming half-smile that had her mirroring the expression without a thought.

“Hello, little Titan.”

And with the next breath she was younger, visiting her friend Bellegere on her mother’s fine barge, evading her duties for the day. “You are not who I was expecting,” came a voice behind her.

Y/N turned and arched a brow at the young man looking in the doorway. “Nor was I expecting you.” He was either lost or an esteemed guest if he had found his way to Bellegere’s private rooms. With his fine clothes and self-assured smile, Y/N wagered he was the latter. “Who are you?”

He introduced himself with a growing smile and kissed her on the back of the hand before turning her hand over and pressing another kiss to her palm. And the first time in months, Y/N giggled.

The prince was eventually greeted by Bellegere’s mother and he was just as flirtatious with her but did not seem too preoccupied with bedding the famous courtesan as many of her other clients had been lately. In between meetings with the captains of the Second Sons mercenary company, Oberyn was found frequently upon the barge—and Y/N always found herself invited, too. Whether it was by Bellegere or Oberyn, they always seemed eager to pull her away from her duties again and again.

Bellegere had been calm, as she always was with her mother’s clients (Bellegere knew she would one day be the Black Pearl of Braavos and took her training very seriously), but Y/N saw how the Dornish prince had her smiling into her hand after whispering something into her ear, a far cry from the demure tilting of her lips her clients usually coaxed from her while buying her attention and company.

Anyone who could make Bellegere, with all her practiced manners and carefully curated gestures, smile like that was truly a force to be reckoned with. But even when he was on Bellegere’s arm, he took care to include Y/N in their conversations, wanting her opinion. “I like the sound of your voice, little Titan.”

And that wretched, silly nickname. While he called Bellegere by her name, or “my Pearl,” he called Y/N his “little Titan,” a play on how Braavos was known for the hulking statue of a titan at its gates. She was not sure if she loved it or loathed it.

“Have you two been introduced?” Sansa’s question pulled Y/N from her reverie.

“Yes,” Oberyn answered for her with a wink. “We met years ago in Braavos.” It was an understatement. Every time the Second Sons were within a handful of leagues of Braavos, Oberyn made it a point to visit Y/N and Bellegere. There was nothing overtly carnal within their relationship. In fact, they all seemed to be closer friends than anything else. Bellegere was free to be herself in his presence and Y/N was, too. Oberyn was always happy to be their escort around the city and pay for their attentions as if he were any other client, but largely they spent their time laughing and speaking of the world beyond Braavos. He disappeared a few years later only to return to Braavos, older and angrier, to meet with Illyrio Mopatis on business he could not discuss with them. But he had been just as kind with them as he always had been—always a dutiful friend. The last time she had seen him, he had whispered about the death of his sister and her babies, of how she was cruelly killed while trying to protect her children.

It would not be until Y/N reached King’s Landing that she learned that it was believed that Tywin gave the order for his loyal dog, Gregor Clegane, to kill the Princess and her babes.

If Y/N had known that, she would have taken Bellegere’s offer of working on her barge instead of allowing her father to barter her away to Tywin. She never would have betrayed Oberyn like that if she had known. Truly.

But it was too late.

Y/N noticed the beautiful woman at Oberyn side. Surely there were songs sung about her gentle eyes. “But I have not met your lovely companion, my prince.”

Oberyn’s smile widened and he took the woman’s hand and pulled her forward just a bit, obviously filled with pride to have her at his side. “This is Ellaria Sand, my paramour.”

Ellaria curtseyed, “my lady.”

Y/N returned the gesture. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ellaria.”

The woman glanced at Oberyn with a smile. “It seems you are one of the few who share that sentiment.”

Y/N waved it away. “The Westerosi have strange conceptions of honor and status.” She made sure to pat Sansa’s hand. “But there are a few who make it bearable.”

But then a noise drew all of their attention. It started with Queen Margaery screaming, “he’s choking!”

Joffrey heaved with stuttering breaths before collapsing. And the pieces were falling into place.

“You idiots! Help your king!” Olenna shouted. She was a good actress.

Movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention and she watched a poorly dressed fool grab at Sansa’s arm and try to lead her away. Without moving her head, Y/N reached out and snatched Sansa’s hand. “Stay, pup. You know not what you do.”

Sansa’s blue eyes flittered between the Fool and the Lion on her arm and then pulled out of the man’s grip.

Satisfied, Y/N turned to watch Cersei scream and scream and scream as her firstborn turned purple in her arms and Tyrion was carted away by a pair of white cloaks. What a pretty painting that would be. She took another sip of wine.

“It is almost as if you were avoiding me, Little Titan.” He still smiled as if no time had passed since their last meeting. But the easy expression faded as he looked down to the small boy in her hold.

Slowly, Y/N set her son down and brushed a bit of dirt from his cherubic cheek. “This is my son, Morgan Lannister.”

Oberyn’s hand shook as he reached out a hand toward the dark haired boy. “Pleased to meet you, little lord.”

Morgan smiled up at Oberyn, bright-eyed, as Oberyn’s finger traced over his brow. “You are Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell! Mama tells me stories about you—about your adventures across the Narrow Sea. And how you slew a mountain!”

“The Mountain, my dear boy,” his mother gently corrected.

“Hardly appropriate bedtime stories,” Ellaria chuckled.

“He likes to know when the hero prevails.”

Little Tommen looked so small when he sat on the throne. He was so…kind. So little. That stupid chair was too rough for his gentle soul. But she clapped when he was proclaimed king and smiled when his bright eyes caught hers, a nervous smile on his lips.

“He will be a fair king,” she heard someone whisper as the clapping and cheering continued. “Kind.”

He would be ruled by Tywin. Y/N knew it to be true. The young king was far easier to manipulate—and perhaps Olenna was anticipating that detail, too. Hm. Olenna versus Tywin in a battle of wills. That would be interesting to watch.

“You are contemplative, Little Titan.”

Y/N smiled at the sound of Oberyn’s voice whispering in her ear. They had frequently sought out each other’s company for the last handful of days, meeting in the sunny gardens to reminisce about their time together in Braavos and learning of their adventures during their time apart. Ellaria had proven to be a true, steadfast friend and Y/N was grateful to know her and hear her stories of her childhood at Hellholt in Dorne. And she wanted to hear what Oberyn thought of this newest pretentious display of power but her eyes darted to see Maester Pycelle and Lord Varys far too close for her liking. While she could rely on knowing where the various servants and Westerosi handmaidens to always whisper the ludicrous stories she had concocted into Tywin and Cersei’s ears, she was not sure how to handle the two men who were arguably more intelligent. “We have a new king,” was all she said. “Long may he reign.”

Oberyn’s nose wrinkled for a moment, confused by her response, but nodded as he noticed Pycelle glance in their direction. “Yes, long may he reign.”

She wanted so badly to simply speak with him. She was alone in the capital. Tywin had dismissed her handmaidens and sent them back to Casterly Rock, replacing them with women from the Westerlands who had once been Princess Myrcella’s maids. He was making sure she was alone. Y/N rolled her shoulders as she watched Tywin approach her. He held out his hand for her to take and she dutifully placed her hand in his, letting him guide her up the small set up steps and dais toward the ugly throne. Tommen’s face broke into a smile as she approached and curtseyed. “Lady Lannister.”

“Your Grace,” she replied. “May the Seven bless your reign,” she repeated the words she had heard droned over and over, knowing the little king found comfort in them even if she thought it ridiculous.

“Thank you, my lady.”

Tywin squeezed her arm and she bit back a wince as he led her away. His grip only tightened the further away they were from the mass of celebrators and they only slowed to a stop for a moment, in a dark corner of the hall for him to hiss in her ear, “you will retire to your chambers, immediately.”

Over his shoulder, Y/N spotted Oberyn slipping into the hall, his dark eyes narrowed at the scene. “Of course, my lord.”

But his grip only tightened. “I will not have you making a spectacle of yourself and my house’s name.” Tywin’s long fingers finally pulled away from her skin and he signaled for two white cloaks to flank her on each side. “Make sure she is waiting for me. Do not let her leave the Tower of the Hand until I have come for her. Am I understood?”

Y/N could only gape at her husband as two pairs of unfamiliar, armored hands grasped at her arms and started to pull her away.

And when she was all but shoved into her chambers in the cold tower, Y/N knew she would be facing the old lion’s wrath.

Time trickled by slowly. The tower she had been told to call home was quiet. No servants. No handmaidens (she would not be surprised if they had been told to vacate that morning). No lower-ranking Lannisters begging for a bit of attention.

She was alone.

And she waited.

A glance outside her chamber’s window let her know that the two guards were still standing sentinel at the entry to the tower. Maybe she had become a character from one of those songs children were so fond of—a princess in a tower, waiting for a knight to rescue her.

But she was not a princess.

She was a daughter of Braavos. And she was tired of waiting for something to happen to her, for continuing to allow things to happen. She was going to make it happen.

“My lady, I am so sorry,” an out of breath handmaiden sprinted to her side and looked down at the little lord. “He ran off when I turned for just a moment.”

Y/N looked down at Morgan who offered a guilty smile. “I missed you, mama.”

“I was only gone for a moment, little one,” Y/N murmured before pressing a kiss to his cheek and winking at the handmaiden, letting her know there was no harm done. Her son was hard to contain on the best of days. “We have talked about being patient, no? I will never leave you alone for long.”

“But Septon Martyn said you were…umm…” his little face scrunched up, searching for words. “I forget.”

“That’s okay, little one. You’ll remember later.”

“But did you see a dragon?” He nearly screeched, dark eyes lighting up.

“I did. And it was beautiful.” She bent and set him back on his little feet. “But you have to promise mama something, yes? You have to stay with Septon Martyn and Tyanna until I am finished.”

Morgan’s bottom lip jutted out and his gaze moved to Oberyn who was looking down at him with an intense fondness that made her sigh. And Ellaria was at his side, a gentle and curious affection in her gaze. “But what if I want to stay with Prince Oberyn?”

Y/N knew to protect her head even before she passed the first stone step. Down, down, down she fell, limbs smacking against the stairs and bannisters until she came to an abrupt stop on the cold ground. The ceiling swam as she finally opened her eyes.

Within a handful of pained breaths, blood coating her teeth and tongue, she watched Tywin loom over her. He had leisurely walked down the winding stairs, uncaring of how he had tried to kill her just moments ago. But perhaps he knew she would survive. This was simply a warning.

“You are a disgrace. You are my wife. I will not be made a fool of any longer. You will not be seen dallying with some Dornish tart prince or his whore. You will not cavort around as if you truly belong here. You do not. You have not earned your place yet.”

“What do you want?” She asked, tongue heavy in her mouth and blood coating her throat. “What do you want?”

“What was promised to me. I do not know what potion you’ve conjured or trick you have conceived, but I will be given an heir. Or I will have your head on a pike.” His thin lips curled into a sneer, the closest she had ever seen to him smile, before he stepped over her crumpled form and out into the sunlight.

And she let herself wallow for just a moment, only until the ceiling stopped spinning and then she rolled onto her side with a wince and grunted as she pushed herself up onto unsteady feet.

“If you want an heir, I’ll produce an heir.” The vow was snarled into the quiet air of the tower.

Y/N watched little Morgan toddle away, his hand firmly clasped in the handmaiden’s, babbling excitedly about dragons and princes. And then her eyes once again found Oberyn and Ellaria, both also watching the little lord walk away.

“He looks like you,” Ellaria said with a smile.

“Yes. A small blessing, I suppose.” She watched Oberyn’s smile widen and he unsuccessfully hid it behind his hand.

A sudden movement caught their gaze and they realized that Cersei had come back, apparently ready to parley with the Dragon Queen.

A cold cloth was pressed to the swelling of her cheek.

“How cruel, to hurt someone so beautiful.”

The scent of the pleasure house was almost comforting; filled with expensive perfumes and burning incense, it was a welcome reprieve from the stench of the city. But all Y/N truly cared about was how soft Ellaria’s touch was and how gentle the other woman was, even after Y/N had bodily climbed in through the window of their room and collapsed onto the floor.

In a strange stroke of luck, the pair had not been entertaining themselves with another person’s (or multiple people) talents and time. And perhaps she truly did look worse for wear if the pained looks and surprised noises they let out when she lifted her head were any indication.

Ellaria had quickly called for a servant to bring what she needed as Oberyn easily hid Y/N’s crumpled form in their warm bed from any prying eyes.

“I am sorry…” Y/N said, “I am so sorry.”

“Whatever for?” Oberyn asked as he took a seat beside her. Gentle fingers pressed at broken skin at her hairline and he frowned. “You escaped your gilded cage and sought safety with us—there is nothing to apologize for in this instance, Little Titan. You have trusted us. There is no higher honor.”

Ellaria hummed her agreement and continued to clean the cuts and calm the swelling around her face. “But how you managed to evade all those gold and white cloaks is surely a tale to tell.”

Y/N smiled but regretted it when pain bloomed across her entire face and Ellaria tutted as a bit of blood bubbled from a scab. “I do doubt it is anything worthy of repeating. Just a bit of Sweetsleep in some wine and hoping for the best.”

“It took you five days to think of Sweetsleep?” Oberyn teased but there was still a clear undertone of concern in his voice that made her heart clench. They cared.

She had a plan, true. And if they agreed vengeance could belong to all of them. Tywin had taken enough from them. “It took me five days to muster the courage to come to you.”

The simple sentence took the air from the room. Ellaria’s gentle touch paused and Oberyn grasped her hands, careful of the injuries. “Tell us, Little Titan. Tell us what you need.”

Y/N looked to Ellaria first and then Oberyn. “It is my lord-husband.”

“I knew it,” Oberyn said, looking to Ellaria who nodded. “I knew he would. He destroys everything he touches. Everything.”

“And I need to let him think he has—just for a few moons longer.”

“Why? Why wait? I can kill him now and be done with it-”

“I want to kill him,” Y/N said, voice steady. “But I want to take away everything he has created. Everything he has worked for, killed for. I want it all. And you are the only ones who would be able to truly take it from him, the only ones I trust.”

Ellaria and Oberyn looked at each other again before turning back to her. “What is your plan, Little Titan?”

She knew Cersei was lying when she said that she would send the Crown’s forces to aid in the fight against the Night King. But it seemed Jon and Daenerys would take her at her word.

Stupid mistake.

As the small crowd dispersed and Y/N continued to play the dutiful peon with a final curtsey, her mind churned. While Cersei had most of the Westerland armies at the capital, some had been allowed to keep to their posts in their homeland. They were Y/N’s to command. And she knew they would listen.

She would not stay in the capital. She did not care if Cersei had expected her to stay. She did not care if the polite thing would be to at least graciously decline the rooms probably readied for her presence.

She did not care.

Her son was in the city. And a war was coming.

The Dragon Queen and Jon Snow were trustworthy. Y/N did not care if the wrath of Cersei was turned on her after this—she could handle Cersei, if needed. But the Realm needed Dragons if they wanted to survive. Daenerys seemed much more reasonable and willing to listen than Cersei ever did so she would not mind if the petite Valyrian sat on the Iron Throne after the dead were dealt with. But that came first.

The small entourage Y/N had arrived with was waiting dutifully by her wheelhouse, also tired of the city, it seemed.

“My lady,” A soft voice said, gaining her attention.

Y/N turned to see Ellaria waiting patiently just outside the Dragon Pit. “Yes?” She took a moment to glance around and see that they were largely alone. Everyone was too preoccupied with their own retreat to pay them any mind.

“We must speak with you.”

Y/N gave one last look to her son, watching him laugh so easily at something a handmaiden whispered into his ear. For now, he was safe.

Y/N turned and linked her arm through Ellaria’s, once again finding an easy comfort in the other woman’s warmth. “I am all yours for a few moments, my lady.”

“Lady Lannister, what a sight you are!”

Y/N bit back the snarl at Maester Pycelle’s exclamation. Despite tending to her bruising, swelling and broken skin for nearly a fortnight, she still looked a fright. She knew it. But it was another thing for an old man in tattered rags to announce it so loudly.

“It is nothing. A servant spilled a bit of wine near the stairs and I did not see it. A careless mistake.”

Pycelle nodded. “Yes. Careless. But you should thank the Seven that you are still able to fulfill your earthly, wifely duties.”

Y/N felt her hands curl into fists and tucked them behind her back, ignoring the ache the movement caused. “Yes. Duties.”

Tyrion’s trial had finally started and Y/N was expected to attend. She retrieved Sansa from her locked chambers—a stark contrast from the Black Cells where Tyrion was kept—and had escorted her to the Great Hall, half a dozen kingsguard surrounding them. She had only a moment alone with Sansa in her chambers before she knew she would draw suspicion from the guards waiting outside the door. “You will need to lie, pup.”

“But-”

Y/N grasped Sansa’s chin in a loose grip but her eyes were hard. “You will lie, Sansa. Your life depends on it. I can only keep you safe if you do.”

“What would you have me say?”

“That you knew of Tyrion’s hatred of his nephew but you did not think he would go so far as to poison him.”

Sansa’s blue eyes watered but she nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good, pup. Then you shall be just fine.”

The entire Great Hall was packed with spectators and she took a seat toward the front, near the dais as Margaery’s side, and Sansa had been relegated toward the back, being treated like another accused instead of a witness. The whole thing smacked of Cersei’s bias.

But Y/N held her tongue, watching as Tyrion was escorted into the hall in heavy chains, and stood as Tommen did, following the rest of the crowd. Tywin briefly looked at her, a smug look on his face as he saw the black and red gown she wore—the stupid garment had been the only garment in her chambers that morning. He was not subtle.

“I, Tommen of the House Baratheon, first of my name, King of the Andals, First Men, and Rhyonar, lord of the Seven Kingdoms, hereby recuse myself from this trial. Tywin of the House Lannister, Hand of the King, protector of the realm, will serve as judge in my stead. With him, Prince Oberyn of the House Martell, and Lord Mace of the House Tyrell. If found guilty, may the gods punish the accused.”

As Oberyn moved to take his seat, he caught her eye for just a moment—and that look was all she needed to remember to breathe.

As person after person provided “evidence” against Tyrion, Y/N started to wonder if she would ever be able to leave this stupid hall. There was a slight reprieve in her sheer boredom when Sansa was called forward and she gave testimony that Tyrion did not care for Joffrey but she could not be sure if he truly poisoned his nephew. Her blue eyes glanced toward Y/N for her final words, “but I would not be so bold as to completely clear him of guilt or conspiracy.”

And that proved enough for Tywin to dismiss the little pup and let her retake her seat—without the small troupe of guards surrounding her. Sansa had been deemed innocent.

But this farce of trial was far from over. It continued on and on—and even included an appearance from Shae, who was apparently Tyrion’s lover. How quaint. Oberyn easily saw right through her lies and made nearly everyone present squirm with a double entendre. Y/N hid her smile behind her hand and ignored the blood bursting from her healing lip.

But the joy was short lived when Tyrion exclaimed, “I demand a trial by combat.”

Oberyn was waiting in a dark hollow of the dragon pit’s crumbling walls and drew both Ellaria and Y/N into his arms. He kissed Ellaria slowly and then pressed his warm lips against Y/N’s pulse. It sent familiar shivers down her spine.

“You are planning something, Little Titan.”

“As are you, my prince.”

Ellaria sighed. “You two are impossible.”

Y/N ducked her head with a smile. “A fair assessment, my lady, but I do not think you would enjoy us half as much if we were not constantly scheming.”

“You know the lioness will not honor her word,” Oberyn cut in quickly. His grip tightened around them.

“Of course not. She will wait for the Night King to both wipe out her enemies and then try to fight him herself, or attack after the battle is won and their numbers are depleted.” While Cersei thought herself Tywin’s true heir in manners of warfare and plotting, the only true manner she had inherited from her father was her inability to forget a slight. “I will not stand by and wait for the dead to reach Casterly Rock. Not while my son is…” the words died on her tongue.

But Ellaria grasped her hand and squeezed it tight. “You have something to fight for. We all do.”

“Dorne will fight beside you. We will fight for the living.”

“It is for luck,” Y/N said with a small smile. “Even the bravest in Braavos drink it. I have not seen a single man who drank this fall to his opponent.”

“I do not need to drink your potion to kill the Dornishman.” Of course, Ser Gregor Clegane would say something like that. His reputation and his (stupid) moniker of The Mountain might have been well earned but that did not mean Y/N any higher of him. In fact, his inability to think for himself when Tywin gave an order only made him smaller in her eyes.

Easy prey.

But that did not mean she would let Oberyn handle him on his own.

Y/N raised the cup a little higher, pressing a worried expression to her face. “It is more for my nerves, my lord, I assure you. I have heard of your prowess even across the Narrow Sea. But please,” she reached out to place a hand on his arm, a pretty picture of genteel worry, “calm my heart.”

Gregor nearly sneered as he took the cup and drained it in one gulp. “For you, Lady Lannister.”

Y/N reached out to take the cup back with a quick dip of her chin and another smile. “I thank you, Ser Gregor.”

She handed it off to a handmaiden and then let herself be escorted to her seat under the canopy, sitting aside her husband. She watched Oberyn and Ellaria speak to Tyrion under their own canopy, happily drinking wine and eating berries. The confidence they had in Oberyn was palpable—and for good reason. But Y/N never did like to watch an even match.

It was too boring.

Pycelle prattled on about how the gods would decide the fate of the trial by combat and soon the two men were engaged in battle.

Oberyn delighted in each blow and catch of his spear into the Mountain’s hulking form and made sure Gregor knew who his opponent was. “I am the brother of Elia Martell. Do you know why I have come all the way to this stinking shit-pile of a city? For you.” Another catch and parry. “I'm going to hear you confess before you die. You raped my sister. You murdered her. You killed her children. Say it now and we can make this quick.” Another clash of blades. “Say it. You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.” Y/N watched Clegane stumble, nearly fall to his knees, as Oberyn landed a kick to his hulking form.

“You murdered her! You killed her children!” Each word out of Oberyn’s mouth grew louder and louder.

Even over the din of the crowd starting to roar, Y/N heard Gregor’s shuddering breath as he struggled to his feet and his grip seemed to loosen on his broadsword.

Oberyn sank the end of his spear into Gregor’s side and quickly gave another, dodging a loose-gripped swipe of The Mountain’s sword at his neck. He stepped back only to watch the giant of a man stumble with a smirk. Oberyn charged at the Mountain to give him one final blow. Blood spurted out of Gregor’s mouth as Oberyn pulled his spear back.

The earth itself seemed to rumble as Gregor finally fell to his knees.

“Wait. Are you dying? No, no, no. You can't die yet,” Oberyn mocked. “You haven't confessed. Say it. Say her name. Elia Martell. You raped her. You killed her children. Elia Martell. Who gave you the order? Who gave you the order?!” Oberyn lifted a hand and pointed toward Tywin.

And for the millionth time since Oberyn had arrived in the city, Y/N had to hide a smile.

“Say her name! You raped her! You murdered her! You killed her children. Say it. Say her name. Say it!”

Y/N did not move her gaze from the ring, uncaring of Tywin’s reaction. She would remember how the crowds gasped and started to murmur. In a single moment, the rumor that had almost been forgotten had been reignited. She was not surprised to learn that Oberyn had declared himself Tyrion’s champion when Gregor was called in for the crown.

And she wanted to make sure Oberyn was given at least a small bit of justice.

But Gregor could not answer. He fell forward, more blood pouring from his mouth, arms shaking to keep him from completely collapsing.

“Tell me!” Oberyn roared. “Tell me!” He leaned down to listen to something The Mountain said, whispered only for him to hear. But when he stood, Oberyn swung his spear and buried it into the Mountain’s head.

Y/N, Ellaria, and Oberyn plotted to move their loyal forces for only a little longer, keeping both the Dragon Queen and Crazed Lioness from overhearing. But soon-

“Mama! Mama!” And for the second time that day, Y/N was nearly leveled by her son throwing himself at her legs.

“We must work on your patience, my love. I was nearly finished.” She hauled the squirming boy into her arms and kissed his cheek. “We shall have supper at the inn but the hill when I am finished, hm? They have that pie you like.”

Morgan happily nodded and squirmed again, wanting to be let down. As his little feet hit the broken stone, he turned to look up at Oberyn and Ellaria, smiling wide. “Hello again, Prince Oberyn!”

Oberyn smiled and leaned down to Morgan’s level before gesturing to Ellaria who smiled fondly down at him. “This is Ellaria Sand, the love of my life.”

Morgan’s little hand reached out to Ellaria and he pressed a quick peck to her fingers, much to her delight. “My lady.” His following bow only continued to earn giggles.

Y/N watched Oberyn as he observed the little scene. His face was serene yet sad. And she knew why.

“You have a viper’s eyes, little lord.”

Morgan preened at the compliment despite not knowing what it meant. “Thank you, Prince Oberyn!”

King’s Landing was a powder keg.

After ‘the gods’ deemed Tyrion innocent, he fled in the night. But Cersei continued to rage and rage and rage, still offering a hefty sum for Tyrion’s head on a platter. Tommen and Margaery were married in another lavish ceremony and the Tyrells continued to press their influence over their city and the new king, only pushing Cersei further toward the edge. Tywin would hold daily meetings with the Small Council and with Lady Olenna, trying to keep the precarious balance of power decidedly in his favor.

And all that distraction proved very fortuitous for Y/N.

“Oh please, please,” she gasped as Oberyn continued to move.

Ellaria chuckled above her before moving Y/N’s mouth back to between her thighs. Y/N had always been very talented with her tongue. It was something Ellaria was happy to learn.

“Patience,” Oberyn said in a breathy huff. “You are always so greedy.”

But Y/N simply buried herself further into the soft patch of curls between Ellaria’s thighs as Oberyn canted his hips just slightly, letting her feel him nearly in her stomach.

They had done this every day—and almost every night—as Tywin was distracted.

Oberyn’s warm, calloused hands curled over Y/N’s thighs, anchoring them around his waist as his pace grew faster and faster. And Ellaria sighed, holding Y/N’s head still as she found her high and coated Y/N’s lips with her release—sticky and sweet.

“Are you nearly done, my love?” Ellaria’s voice was raspy and she did not move from her seat on Y/N’’s mouth, even as she shook with overstimulation. Y/N was greedy—Oberyn had rightly branded her so. And Ellaria tasted so good. “You do have a meeting to attend.”

Oberyn huffed but his pace did increase and the coil in Y/N’s belly wounded tighter and tighter, for the third time that morning, and then finally snapped as Oberyn groaned before leaning forward to press a kiss to Ellaria’s kiss-slick lips. Warmth bloomed and Y/N shook.

Yes. King’s Landing was a powder keg. But it was delicious.

And when Y/N passed the Small Council chamber later that morning she nearly snorted as she heard Tywin say, “You look tired, Prince Oberyn.”

And Oberyn, ever the viper, responded, “yes, my lover and I are trying for another child. I have heard you are trying for another heir, too, no?”

When the next morning came and Tywin left her bed, let him be for a moment before readying herself for the day. She slipped into his chambers and put on her dutiful-wife mask, one she had worn so well for the past handful of moons.

“I will be speaking with the Maesters this morning.”

“Oh?” Tywin responded, buttoning his tunic.

“Yes, I have been feeling poorly and I have missed my last moon blood. I am hoping I will have good news for you soon.”

Tywin was quiet for a moment before he hummed. It almost sounded happy. “You will tell me immediately what they say. Do you understand?”

“Of course, my lord.” She pulled his Hand of the King pin from atop one of his trunks and handed it to him. “I would have Sansa as a ward. King’s Landing has only made her a scared little thing—she will cow in front of the Northmen she’s supposed to rally to your grandson’s cause.”

“And you believe you may shape her into something-”

“Someone who will command respect and is loyal, my lion. Your daughter, for all her charms, was not suited to mold someone as gentle as Sansa. Her children were born with a steel core. Little Sansa needs a gentle, shaping hand.” Y/N slipped her arms around Tywin’s shoulders as he adjusted the pin over his heart. “I know you have an allegiance with Lord Bolton who you have named the Warden of the North in the Starks’ absence. The Northmen’s loyalty to them is tenuous at best. I know you strive for peace. If you could arrange for Sansa and the Boltons to find common ground, I know it would give you a small bit of reprieve to know you no longer had to worry about the North revolting. Again.”

Tywin froze—just for a moment. “Perhaps you aren’t as useless as I had been beginning to suspect.”

Y/N only smiled.

And after having the Maesters confirm that she was with child, she knew Tywin would come to her bed chamber again. She offered him a cup of wine in celebration and watched him drain it as he smirked. And she let him undo the laces of her dress. She let him pull her chemise over her head. She let him press her down into the pillows.

And then he paused. His eyes screwed shut with a pained groan. Tywin fell to the side and Y/N happily climbed over him.

“What…have you done?”

Y/N felt the slash of a smile grow across her face. “I have taken everything from you.” Her hands folded over her stomach. “You have only moments to live. But life grows within me. And your line has ended.” She watched the light fade from his eyes before forcing tears into her own. She let a few trickle down her cheeks for maximum effect before climbing off her husband’s lap and pulling on a dressing robe before dashing to the door and flinging it open. “My husband, please! Please someone help my husband!”

“Does he know?” Oberyn asked quietly as he helped Y/N lift little Morgan into the carriage. The child had fallen asleep at the table, nearly tipping over his prized pie. A day full of excitement had worn him out. He had caught a single glimpse of a dragon as their traveling party departed the city and had animatedly recounted the story to anyone and everyone who would listen. Oberyn and Ellaria had quietly followed.

“He knows his father is a brave, strong man. Who is loyal to his word, devoted to his family, and a hero for the ages.”

“Does he believe it is Tywin?” Oberyn asked, his fingers brushing the dark hair away from his son’s forehead.

“I believe he is smart enough to understand it is not.” She paused. “He is heir to the Lannister seat of power. He will hold everything Tywin worked so hard to build and protect. But the Lannister bloodline has ended. Yours will continue—yours will hold his seat of power until the gods deem this world finished. House Lannister is now your blood—your son.”

“But will he know the truth? Will he ever know me as his father?”

“Of course,” she said with a small smile. “When the time is right, and I know he can keep this secret, he will know your name as his true father. He will know you, love you.”

“And you? What of you?”

“What of me?” She repeated. “What would you need of me?”

Oberyn and Ellaria locked eyes for a moment before their penetrating gazes moved back to her. “We will want you as well.”

“Me?”

“We will always want you.”

Y/N sucked in a breath, trembling for the first time in decades. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Gone were the washes of gaudy crimson fabric and she was once again permitted to drape herself in black. She was a widow now. Perhaps that suited her. And now that Tywin was dead, she saw no reason to stay in King’s Landing. Tywin, before his tragic death of a bad heart, had announced to the court that Y/N was with child. It had only cemented her status as the true ruler of Casterly Rock.

Before she departed, Cersei called her into her chambers for tea. It was the most civil Cersei had ever been toward her and it was still laced with unsubtle threats and verbal barbs.

“The newest Lannister. A new brother,” Cersei mused, her eyes pointedly looking at Y/N’s stomach. “I hope they look like father.”

“I do doubt they will look like Lannisters.”

“Oh?” Cersei said, mouth tilting just so. “Are you so sure?”

“I do not look like a Lannister, your grace. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“Yes, but the seed is strong-”

“Not strong enough. I assure you. The babe will look like me. After all, it seems you have taken all the luck and used it on your children—all of them, green-eyed and golden-haired. What are the chances? Hm?” Y/N finished her tea and stood. “I thank you for the company, your grace. But it is time for me to leave.” And Y/N turned and left without being dismissed, a smile on her face all the while.

And she left. She left without saying goodbye to Oberyn and Ellaria—her only friends in the city. She left knowing it would hurt them. But trying to find a moment to find them, to explain, would only cast suspicion on the paternity of her child. Because she knew she would not be able to stop herself from falling into their arms one last time.

Sansa gave her a small smile as they both settled into the wheelhouse and soon they were off.

Months slipped by and the pregnancy was largely uneventful.

She had kept her distance when she had heard of the Greyjoy attack on Myrcella’s boat and the princess’ death. She kept all the sword hands she could within the borders of the Westerlands when Cersei seized power from the Tyrells after the mysterious death of Tommen. She declared herself queen and threw Margaery into the Black Cells, threatening to send her head to Olenna if the Reach rebelled. She had played the part of careful, dutiful Lady of the Rock very well. She had kept Cersei’s eye off her kingdom and focused on the threats she perceived from across the Narrow Sea or the North.

Sansa had been a dutiful student. When Lord Bolton asked if Sansa would be willing to marry his son, Ramsey, she accepted, even knowing the boy’s reputation to be cold and cruel. Crueler still after the mysterious and suspicious death of his father.

But he never touched Sansa. No. On their wedding night, Ramsey fell ill and then never woke.

But Sansa was the Lady of Winterfell again—a Stark was in the North.

And it was so easy for the North to rally to her cause and the North rose up in revolt again. It made Y/N laugh.

But soon the baby was coming—far sooner than she had anticipated. With a final scream, it was over. A baby’s cries filled the air and a bloody, squirming infant was placed in her arms, wrapped in black silk.

“A boy, my lady. A healthy boy. Have you thought of a name?”

Y/N felt tears start to gather in her eyes as she looked down at her son—her beautiful son. The spitting image of her—but then his eyes opened. And he had his father’s eyes. Viper eyes. “His name is Morgan.”

Y/N’s lips still burned from the kiss Oberyn and Ellaria left her with before they departed.

And her heart was lighter, too. They had forgiven her—had said there was nothing, truly, to forgive. “You were protecting your child. My child.”

Morgan stirred in her arms as the wheelhouse rode over a bump. “Mama?”

“Yes, my love?”

His viper eyes opened and she smiled, seeing them shine in the low light of the evening. “Will we see Prince Oberyn and Lady Ellaria again?”

Her smile widened. “Yes. I can promise you that.”

Please let me know what you think!

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @huliabitch @revolution-starter @starlight-starwrites

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x ellaria sand x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #asoiaf

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fanfic-archive · 3 years

Text

Meeting the Baron (3/7)

Chapter 3. Riga, Latvia

Summary: Next stop? Riga and Zemo’s Latvian flat. Zemo proves that breaking him out of prison wasn’t an all-bad idea, providing you with invaluable information and leads, but it’s not that surprising that the new Captain America had finally caught up with your ragtag group.

Part 1, Part 2

Word Count: 4695

The search for Karli took the four of you to Riga, Latvia. And, thankfully, Zemo had somewhere there for you all to stay. He really was proving himself useful, if nothing else he had funded everything for the three of you. Clothes, travel, lodging, it certainly made things easier.

Now, Zemo was guiding the there of you through the streets of Riga and towards his place where you would all be staying.

“I heard what became of Sokovia. Cannibalised by its neighbours before the land was even cleared of rubble, erased from the map” Zemo spoke up, making you a little curious. Of course, Sam and Bucky had explained what had happened to Sokovia but this was the first time that he was speaking of it. “I don’t suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial?” he asked, the question pointed more towards Sam. “Of course not. Why would you?” he continued when Sam didn’t respond, sounding calm but you sensed the underlying annoyance. “We are here” he announced as you arrived outside his property.

“I’m gonna go on a walk” Bucky stopped, making you all turn back to him.

“You good?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys in a bit” Bucky just nodded before walking off in the opposite direction.

“I worry about him sometimes” you sighed to yourself.

“Yeah, me too” Sam patted your shoulder before the two of you followed Zemo inside.

Now, this was much closer to what you expected from the Baron when it came to housing. This safehouse, if you could call it that, was much nicer and more spacious than where you had stayed in Madripoor. The room was warmly lit, the sun coming through stain glass windows. The décor was much more of what you expected as well, the style and furniture a mix between traditional and modern. In summary, you liked the space, and if this was a safehouse of his, it was still much nicer than your apartment back home.

The three of you settled in, Sam sitting down to do some research, Zemo disappearing into the bathroom, and you making yourself a drink before falling down onto the couch. Here you were, on the run, tracking down a rebel group, but living in much better conditions.

Taking a sip from your glass, your attention turned to the opening bathroom doors, where Zemo stepped out. You couldn’t help but stare despite your better judgement, he was a sight to take in like this. Blue bathrobe, tied securely but revealing the top of his chest, letting you catch a glimpse of the silver chain that hung around his neck and just the right amount of chest hair.

As your gaze travelled up his body, finally landing on his face, you saw that he was already looking at you. Knowing you had been caught, you placed your glass down and stood up, walking over to Sam to see if he had found any information. Just anything to make it look like you hadn’t been checking him out, but Zemo had noticed. He didn’t say anything, just smirking to himself as he made himself a drink.

Thankfully, Bucky returned from his ‘walk’, closing the door behind him. “Well, the Wakandans are here. They want Zemo. Bought us some more time” Bucky informed you all, just adding another complication into the mess you had all found yourselves in.

“Were you followed?” Sam asked, standing as you both followed Bucky over to the kitchen.

“No” Bucky answered.

“How can you be so sure?” Zemo questioned, joining the four of you in the kitchen.

“Because I know when I’m being followed” Bucky shot him a glare.

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least” Zemo hummed, sipping from his drink.

“Hey, you shut it. No one’s defending you. You killed Nagel” Sam reminded him.

“Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?” Zemo asked as if it meant nothing.

“There’s nothing to litigate. You straight shot the man” Sam couldn’t believe he was having this argument but you just smiled to yourself, knowing that Zemo was just trying to bother him. The Baron just shrugged, moving to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island from you.

“Sam” Bucky got his attention, and you were about to listen to what he had to say but Zemo got your attention.

“Schatzi” the nickname made you turn to the Baron. You weren’t sure what the word translated to specifically, but you were sure it was a term of endearment of some kind, something that should have bothered you but didn’t even in the slightest.

“What?” you asked, turning your attention to him.

“Turkish Delight?” Zemo offered, completely throwing you off.

“Uh…” you weren’t sure how to answer that, this man repeatedly confused and surprised you. He just found out that the Wakandans were here for him and he was offering you candy?

Even though you didn’t really answer, he handed you one of the wrapped candies, placing it in your palm. “There. Irresistible” he smiled, looking you in the eye as he spoke. You had no idea why, it was just something about the way he said it, about the way that he looked at you, but it made heat rise to your cheeks and you just knew that he noticed. But neither of you commented, you just unwrapped the treat and ate it.

“Y/n” Bucky said your name to get your attention when he realised you hadn’t heard anything they had been talking about.

“Sorry, what?” you asked, looking back at Bucky and Sam.

“Did you hear what we were just talking about” Bucky asked.

“Uh no, I was…eating” you confused, blushing some more but this time from embarrassment.

“Karli bombed a GRC supply depot. There were eleven injured and three dead, and they’re threatening more attacks if their demands aren’t met” Bucky informed you.

“What? They haven’t done anything like that before” your eyes widened in shock.

“She’s getting worse” Zemo commented disapprovingly.

It was becoming even more important that you found Karli. Sam made the point that they would probably be holding a memorial for Donya and that the best way of finding Karli was to get some information on where it was being held.

And so, the four of you got ready and headed back out into Riga. Zemo lead the way, your own personal tour guide, to a refugee camp.

“Shame what’s become of this place” Zemo spoke as you stepped into the camp, looking around with a sense of familiarity but a little distain. “When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties. I knew nothing of the politics of the time, of course, but I remember it being beautiful” he told you, and his words did seem more directed towards you than the men you were with.

“It still has a certain beauty to it” you claimed, and you meant it. You couldn’t picture what it was like all those years ago but if you took away the pain that was happening here, you would find it rather beautiful.

“I envy you, being able to see it with fresh eyes” Zemo looked down at you, and he seemed sincere.

“I’m gonna take a look around upstairs. See what you can find out here” uninterested in the conversation, Sam took a step back from the group. “And keep an eye on him” he ordered the two of you.

“I’ll stay out of your way” Zemo assured Bucky, who just nodded before going to look around and see what he could find. “Liebling, would you mind accompanying me?” the Baron asked you.

“Sure…why?” you nodded, wondering what he was planning.

With a small smile, Zemo placed a hand on your back and led you over to where a group of children were playing. “Children usually have an easier time trusting women” he lent down towards your ear to explain.

Still wondering what he was up to, you walked with him, it was your job to keep an eye on him after all. He removed his hand from your back and pulled a wooden stool out in front of him, sitting down on a bench behind it. On top of the stool, he emptied out wrapped candies from a brown paper bag that he retrieved from a pocket in his coat. That had certainly gained the interest of the children.

“Turkish Delight” he informed the young girl who had stepped closer, “it was always my son’s favourite.”

The comment had made you glance at him, a feeling of sympathy settling in your chest. You knew what had happened to his family, Sam had explained his motives to you when he was explaining who Zemo was, but this was the first time he had spoken of either his son or his wife. He had only just mentioned Sokovia for the first time when you arrive in Riga, but you understood, you couldn’t imagine how painful the subject must be.

The girl came closer and took one of the Turkish Delights, waiting to see what the two of you wanted. “My old friend, Donya, passed away. Did you know her?” Zemo asked and she nodded. “I would like to pay my last respects. Do you know where her funeral will be?” again, she nodded.

Zemo smiled and pointed towards his ear, to which the girl hurried around to his side to whisper to him. Once the girl stepped away again, Zemo looked up at you and nodded, letting you know that he had the location.

“Thank you” you gave the girl a kind smile and gestured for her to take another Turkish Delight, and she did with a smile of her own.

Zemo stood, picking up a handful of sweets. “This is our little secret, okay?” he asked and all of the children nodded. In return, he handed them the remaining sweets for them to divide between themselves. “Liebling?” he offered you his arm and you couldn’t help but smile a little as you took it, letting him guide you back towards Bucky and Sam, who had returned.

Bucky gave you a questioning look as you approached but you just shrugged at him. “Cute kids” Zemo commented as the two of you walked past them.

It wasn’t until you all returned to the safehouse that Zemo revealed what he had learnt. You, Sam and Bucky sat on the couch while Zemo headed for the kitchen.

“That little girl. What did she tell you?” Bucky asked as Zemo approached you all with a tray of tea.

“The funeral is this afternoon” Zemo told you, placing the tray down.

“You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute. In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking” Bucky reminded him but it sounded more like a threat.

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli. I prefer to keep my leverage” while it was irritating to the three of you, Zemo made sense. He was a wanted criminal, why would he give you all the information he had so that you didn’t need him anymore.

Bucky abruptly stood up, rounding the coffee table. He took the glass straight out of Zemo’s hand and threw it at the wall behind him, causing it to shatter. “You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” he threated, trying to intimidate him.

“Bucky, calm down” you jumped up from your seat and got between the two men, your back to Zemo. “Don’t let him use this against you” you pleaded with Bucky, you knew he was better than threats of physical violence and you didn’t need him beating himself up about this later on.

“She’s right, man” Sam spoke calmly, and Bucky thankfully backed off. “Let me make a phone call” he gave Bucky one last look before leaving the room, and Bucky followed after him.

“Very sweet of you, thank you” Zemo smirked slightly as you turned to face him. You had defended him against your friend, and he suspected multiple motivations behind your actions.

“Don’t mention it” you sighed, shaking your head at him.

“Want some Cherry Blossom tea?” Zemo offered, as if the confrontation just never happened.

“That actually sounds pretty good” you confessed.

He smiled and gestured towards the remaining cups on the tray, you picked one up and took a seat on the couch, letting out a small sigh as you did so. Zemo picked up another cup before sitting beside you.

“I, uh…I’m sorry about your family…and your country, I can’t imagine what you went through” you spoke up after a moment of silence. You contemplated bringing up the subject but decided to give it a shot.

You knew that the others found it hard to sympathise with him after everything he put them through and you understood that, but it felt like something that had to be said. The Baron looked at you before looking back at his drink, and you noticed his hesitation about speaking. It was understandably painful for him and you were ready to drop the subject if needs be.

“Now, why should you apologise? You didn’t even know about it until recently” Zemo asked. It wasn’t the response you had expected but you weren’t too surprised, he had been acting unphased by nearly everything happening, he was just keeping up that act now.

“I…guess I just thought someone should” you admitted, and that answer made him think for a moment. “If you would like to talk about it, I’d listen” you offered, assuming he hadn’t had anyone to confide in for a long time, “or we can pretend I never mentioned it.”

He hesitated but finally spoke. “My father lived outside the city, I thought we would be safe there” Zemo started and instantly all of your attention was on him, you hadn’t really expected him to speak about it but now that he was, all you would do was listen. “My son was excited, he could see the Iron Man from the car window. I told my wife ‘Don’t worry, they’re fighting in the city. We’re miles from harm.’” You couldn’t imagine the guilt is must have felt for that. “When the dust cleared…and the screaming stopped…it took me two days until I found their bodies. My father…still holding my wife and son in his arms” the way he stared at the tea in his hands told you that he was reliving that moment, it was one of those things that just sticks with you. You can’t forget, you can only move forward. “And the Avengers? They went home…I admit, I let vengeance consume me, but my time alone provided plenty of opportunities for insight. Perhaps I have changed to an extent since my arrest, but I still stand by what I believe. Idols, superheroes, they are dangerous.”

You didn’t say anything, there was nothing to be said, so you just reached over and placed your hand on his, stroking your thumb back and forth in a comforting manner. Nothing could change the past, nothing could make it better, and you knew that he didn’t want or need to hear your condolences. You just wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone, he had formed an unlikely alliance here. Zemo looked down at where your hand sat atop his, the gesture was appreciated.

The sound of voices approaching caught your attention, you pulled your hand away from his just as Sam and Bucky came back into the room. Neither of the noticing.

“Ready?” Sam asked, not wanting to miss the memorial. You just nodded as you stood up.

The way you pulled your hand away when your friends entered the room suggested to Zemo that the gesture had meant a little more than simple sympathy. It was something you thought you should hide from your friends, and it made him all the more curious.

Once again, Zemo was leading the three of you through Riga. You were a little distracted, taking a moment to just look around and admire the unfamiliar streets. Cobblestone streets, old fashioned streetlamps, bright flowers decorating windows, it wasn’t what you were used too, and you loved it.

“Hey, Y/n, you with us?” Sam tapped your arm, bringing you back to reality.

“Yeah, sorry…just looking around” you told them honestly, with a small laugh.

“I take it you’re enjoying Riga?” Zemo asked rhetorically, glad that you were enjoying your visit.

“I definitely think I could take a vacation here” you nodded.

“When was the last time you had a vacation?” Bucky asked, knowing that wasn’t really something you had much opportunity for.

“Uh…since I was a child I guess, and I never left the States” you answered.

“Well, I’d be honoured to be your tour guide if we get the chance” Zemo offered with a smile.

“I’d like that” you returned the smile, definitely liking the sound of having Zemo show you more of the country, maybe even more of the world.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit” a loud voice interrupted, making you look ahead to see John Walker approaching.

“How’d you find us now?” Bucky called to him.

“Come on, you think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Lemar asked and you couldn’t really argue with that, it wasn’t a miracle that they found you.

“No more keeping us in the dark” Walker told them. “You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison” he pointed towards Zemo.

“He did that himself, technically” Bucky corrected him.

“This better be an unbelievable explana-” Walker began but was interrupted.

“Hey, take it easy before it gets weird” Sam stepped in when he noticed how agitated John was getting.

“And who’s this?” John asked, pointing towards you this time.

“A friend” you told him simply.

“Of who? Them or him?” he questioned you, gesturing towards Zemo, accusing you of being a partner in crime of the Baron.

“Them…but more him than you” you shrugged, but he didn’t seem pleased with your answer.

“I know where Karli is” Zemo told the soldiers, tired of the conversation, and began to pass John but was stopped by a hand against his chest.

“Where?” John demanded an answer.

“All we know is it’s a memorial” Sam answered when Zemo remained silent.

Seeing something up ahead, Zemo pushed John’s hand away and passed him anyway. “Liebling?” he looked back at you, encouraging you to follow, so you nodded and did.

When John realised that you were both walking away, John placed a hand on your shoulder to halt you. “Look, we’re kinda busy and don’t have time to argue, so get out the way, okay?” you gave him a sarcastic smile as you pushed his hand off of you.

“Do you know who I am? I’m Captain America” John was clearly angry with the way you responded to him, annoyed that you truly didn’t care about who he was.

“You’re a guy in a star-spangled suit, alright? Calm down” you scoffed at his arrogance before pushing past him to catch up with Zemo, missing the look of anger on John’s face.

The other four followed behind the two of you, John and Sam arguing about how to handle the situation with Karli. John planned on fighting no matter what, but Sam wanted to try to talk to Karli, which was the plan you agreed with.

“So, where exactly are we going?” you asked Zemo, ignoring the bickering that was happening behind you.

“My associate is just up ahead” Zemo announced, which seemed to get the attention of the others.

At the end of the road was the girl from the camp who had given you the location of the funeral. You all approached her, Zemo and you standing in front of the others since she better recognised the two of you.

“Hello, my friend” Zemo greeted her kindly. “This is for your family” he handed her a generous amount of money, making you smile. He didn’t have to offer her so much, but he did. “Can you show us the way?” he asked.

The girl nodded, gesturing for you all to follow her before walking ahead, and so you all did. She took you to where the memorial was being held before disappearing futher into the building, leaving you all to your business.

Once alone, John handcuffed Zemo to a boiler, telling Sam that he had ten minutes before you were doing things ‘his way’. Sam nodded to you and Bucky before following the path that the young girl had gone, going to find Karli, while the rest of you would wait.

Bucky stood in the doorway to prevent John from interfering too early, John sat against the wall looking agitated, Lemar sat on the ground beside him, and you stood by Zemo. All of you just waiting.

“No, no, no. This is a bad idea” John mumbled to himself as he started pacing.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight” Bucky watched him carefully.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronise me” John snapped.

“He’s not, we all just have to stay calm” you spoke up calmly, trying to talk the man down. Sam knew what he was doing.

“Who even are you?” John’s anger and frustration was peaking now as he walked over to you, beginning to get in your face.

Before John could get too close, Zemo had stepped out and got in between you both, his wrist still attached to the boiler. Looking between you both, John just scoffed, a comment forming on his tongue.

“Sam knows what he’s doing” Bucky assured the two men, getting John’s attention back on him. Instantly, the two men started arguing again.

“What are you thinking?” Zemo asked you quietly, keeping your attention on him.

“He’s antsy…” you commented, squinting at the back of the blonde’s head, “something’s going on with him.”

“What do you think it is?” he wanted to know what you thought.

“…performance issues” you half-joked, earning an eyebrow raise from Zemo. “I mean it, probably feels a little…emasculated. Plus, the pressure is probably getting to him. He thinks he’s Captain America, but he knows he’s not Steve Rogers” you explained yourself.

“Good observation” Zemo nodded in approval.

“Thanks. Do I get a Turkish Delight for my troubles?” you joked, smiling up at him.

“You can have whatever you like” Zemo promised you and it felt like a very real offer. For a moment, you just looked at each other, you trying to figure out exactly what he meant by that and him allowing you to do so.

“Ah, crap” you sighed, the moment ruined when you saw Bucky following John and Lemar further into the building.

“Impatient” Zemo chastised under his breath, equally annoyed about being interrupted.

“Alright, let’s get you out of these” you turned to the handcuffs, examining them.

“You know how to pick locks?” Zemo asked, digging into an inside pocket of his coat before holding a lockpick out for you. “Always prepared” he told you proudly when you gave him a questioning look.

“Of course I know how to pick a lock, who do you think I am?” you answered, taking the pick from him. “Honestly just surprised that you haven’t already picked it” you hummed, using the lockpick he had provided to open the cuffs.

“I was enjoying my time with you” the Baron smiled when you looked up at him, a little surprised by the comment, as the cuffs opened. Was he…flirting with you? So blatantly?

Once again, the moment was cut short by the sound of fighting and gunshots. “Come on” you handed him the lockpick back before the two of you headed further into the building.

You pulled your gun out of your holster, readying it in case you ran into trouble, but Zemo pulled out a gun of his own.

“Again, with the gun?” you looked at him in disbelief, where does he keep getting them from and why is nobody noticing?

“Will you allow me to keep it this time?” Zemo asked.

“Yes, whatever” you nodded, you weren’t going to unarm him in a dangerous situation, you could use the extra gun.

The building was like a maze, you had been following corridor after corridor and you still hadn’t come across anyone. Neither of you knew the building and so took it in turns to decide which turn to take.

The two of you were walking down the next corridor, passing the start of another when a gunshot rang out. Without hesitation, Zemo grabbed you and pulled you both away from the corridor’s entrance, pinning you to the wall beside it by your shoulders.

Your breathing was heavy as you processed what had happened, that Zemo had pulled you out of the way of potentially being shot. Now the two of you stood a little too close, his body shielding yours against the wall, chests falling and rising as your breathing steadied, wide eyes looking up at him.

You couldn’t have been there for long, just looking at each other, before his lips were suddenly on yours, his hands sliding up from your shoulders to cup your face. With an almost embarrassing lack of restraint, you returned the kiss with an equal passion. Your hands gripped his arms, holding each other close as an unspoken tension was slightly released.

It reminded you of that night in Madripoor, of the pull you felt towards him and the spark that he ignited within you. The difference right now was that there was no reason for the two of you two kiss, no act to keep up, nobody to convince, it was simply because you both wanted too.

Another gunshot pulled you both away from each other. Zemo took a step back as you raised your gun, stepping out from behind the corner to shoot the attacker, landing a non-fatal hit to the leg. Aiming to disable but not to kill. Zemo tapped your shoulder before you both hurried down the corridor, not having the time to linger on the moment you both just shared or address what it meant.

The two of you came to a room, your eyes widening when you saw Karli. Zemo didn’t even hesitate before shooting at her, he managed to hit her once but when he shot again, she jumped over a table and took cover.

“Zemo” you warned as he approached, knowing Sam wouldn’t be okay with him killing her.

As the two of you approached the table, he shot at the ground to keep her behind it, but got distracted by multiple small vials of a blue substance that had fallen to the floor.

“Is this what I think it is?” Zemo picked up a vial, examining it. It could only be one thing, the super soldier serum.

You flinched a little at the sound of glass shattering when he started destroying the vials, but you couldn’t say that you completely disagreed with the destruction of them. In the end, it was probably for the best.

While he was distracted, Karli quickly got up and ran for the stairs. You acted as quickly as you could and shot in her direction but missed and she escaped with another one of the Flag Smashers. Next thing you knew, Captain America’s shield was flying in front of your face, hitting Zemo in the side of the head and knocking him unconscious.

“Zemo” you gasped under your breath before kneeling down to check on him.

You carefully took his head in your hands and examined his face, he wasn’t bleeding. You checked his pulse and gently lay his head back down, he seemed alright for the most part. While you were fretting over the Baron, you didn’t see John picking up and pocketing a surviving vial, and then Sam, Bucky, and Lemar were running into the room.

You looked up at Sam and Bucky, and they just looked at you as if to ask ‘what the hell happened?’

Meeting the Baron Taglist:

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#Helmut Zemo x reader #Zemo x reader #Baron Zemo x reader #helmut zemo #zemo #baron zemo #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws

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delicioussshame · 3 years

Text

I remembered this fic only a few days ago. Sorry. Have the second part.

At least he wrote to Luo Binghe before his little stunt.

He hangs onto this small bright spot like a lifeline as he stares at his phone, back in his apartment. Once his disciple has read the message Shen Yuan sent, he’ll understand that his shizun was just pretending to be a bitch. He’ll probably find it in his heart to forgive the humiliation, especially since Shen Yuan will be suffering from it way more than Tianlang-Jun’s fucking son ever will.

If his parents found out he befriended one of China’s richest moguls’ heir, they might ease up on the forced partying, but alas. He won’t tell them. That would ruin his whole schtick.

Never mind that! How the hell is Luo Binghe’s Tianlang-Jun’s son! That was very much not included in the backstory he was given by him! Single mother, poor upbringing, tiny village! Not uber-rich daddy just waiting for him to join him in the big city, woo just as rich women and inherit his endless conglomerate! Tianlang-Jun wasn’t even known to have children! Or a wife! Luo Binghe kept him in the dark! Or he outright lied to him!

Okay, so maybe Shen Yuan did not tell Luo Binghe he also was a scion of the rich and famous of Beijing. They had shared precious little about their personal lives. There had been too many novels to discuss. Luo Binghe must surely have been just as surprised as Shen Yuan himself.

Shen Yuan holds his phone, typing and deleting another message to Luo Binghe. He doesn’t know how to apologise for the frankly abysmal way he’d treated him.

Just as he’s deleting another string of characters, his phone beeps. Shizun remembers our date tomorrow, right?

…So Luo Binghe isn’t angry, right? He’s not, right? He wouldn’t call it a date if he only wanted to break Shen Yuan’s face with his mighty fists, would he?

(Okay, he’s not sure why Luo Binghe is calling it a date anyway, but whatever.)

I do.

Good! I can’t wait to see him!

…Maybe Binghe has an identical twin brother. That would explain everything.

It makes at least as much sense as Luo Binghe being a pure white lotus and a fan of online literature, while also being a rich playboy standing to inherit one of the country’s biggest conglomerates.

…He’ll find out soon enough. See you tomorrow then.

Just to be on the safe side, he’ll stop by a nice bakery before they meet.

_________________

It is possible it’s the fifth time Shen Yuan checks his watch.

It is also possible his nerves got the better of him and made him arrive forty-five minutes early. Sue him.

“Shizun!”

If their relationship is going to continue, he needs to put a stop to this appellation. It’s terrible for both their image.

Shen Yuan turns toward the call, and almost flinches away from the force of his disciple’s radiance. There’s no way this Binghe, cheeks flushed from having rushed over and wide smile on his face, is anything like the lady-killer Shen Yuan crossed the other day.

Identical twins. Shen Yuan is calling it.

“Shizun must forgive me for the other night! If I had known he would be there, I would have warned him!”

For fuck’s sake what the hell is happening. “Binghe doesn’t need to apologise! If anything, I was the one whose conduct was horrid. I should be the one apologising!” He shoves the pretty pastel paper bag in Binghe’s chest “Here, pastries! You like those, right? Take it as a gesture of good will and repentance. And everything we do today is on me.” Not that Luo Binghe needs his money. If anything, he’s probably richer than Shen Yuan’s whole family combined.

Binghe peeks into the bag and thanks him before setting it aside, obviously uninterested for now. “From what I gathered, I suspect we were using similar strategies, since what I’ve heard about you cannot possibly be true. There must be more to this.”

Shen Yuan can imagine what the people he has systematically alienated for years must have told him, and feel dread pooling in his stomach. “What did they say.”

Luo Binghe waves it away. “Nothing important. I don’t believe a word of it. I know Shizun better than they ever will, I’m sure of it.”

Well, okay. Shen Yuan will definitely take it. “How about you, then? Binghe was…” terrifyingly seductive, “another person yesterday.”

“My father’s idea. He said that if I were to integrate his world, it was his duty as a father to make sure I’m not eaten alive. I took acting lessons.”

Acting lessons! Seriously? “And have you considered making that your profession?” Because with that persona, Luo Binghe would become China’s number one heartthrob seconds following his first apparition on a small, or big, screen.

“I’m going to take it as a compliment, especially from you. Your performance was quite notable. It gave me chills.”

Yeah, chills born out of awkwardness. “I’m nothing compared to him. Just to be certain: Binghe pretends to be a smooth socialite to fit in, right?”

Luo Binghe nods.

“How do you stand it? I could never manage to pretend that I appreciate Xiao Gongzhu or Sha Hualing. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that their diet is mainly composed of human flesh, with a preference for young men.”

“Surely Shizun is exaggerating? They were nothing but nice to me.”

“With your looks and your status, of course they were.”

“If that was what they were after, wouldn’t they get along with Shizun just fine? He’s also got both those things.”

Shen Yuan tries not to let his befuddlement appears on his face. “I have status, but not anywhere near as high as yours? That’s all that matters to those girls. If he tried to prepare you, your father must have warned you about people like them.” He’s not even going to abase himself by addressing the looks issue. They both have eyes. Only one of them looks like he could grace the cover of Vogue China, and it sure isn’t Shen Yuan.

“He did warn me of enterprising women in general, before going on a tangent about enterprising women who are too independent to agree to marriage and instead run away to give birth in lost villages without informing their partner, which I have gathered must be about my birth mother. It’s nothing I couldn’t have thought of myself. Anyway, Shizun shouldn’t worry. I have no plans to choose either of them as a partner.”

Shen Yuan lets out a relieved sigh. “Good. Binghe deserves better. He should look for someone he cares for to share his life with.” It’s not like he’ll need their money.

“That’s what I’m doing.”

Already? He didn’t even start class yet. “Good for you. I’m wishing you luck.”

“Thank you, but I will make my own luck.” With a lack of shame Shen Yuan can only envy, Luo Binghe grabs his hand and drags him toward the nearby street. “Let’s go! There is so much to see here! We can’t afford to waste time!”

Shen Yuan smiles, charmed by Luo Binghe’s childish enthusiasm. “Let’s.”

________________________

Shen Yuan returns to his apartment with a peace of mind only one who has buried his terrible mistake down deep in the ground can attain. He explained to Luo Binghe why he acts as he acts, and Luo Binghe accepted it. Luo Binghe explained to him the same, and it made sense to Shen Yuan. They had spent the whole day wandering around the city, eating delicious food and visiting anything that attracted Luo Binghe’s varied interests.

Had Shen Yuan expected to spend an hour comparing cooking utensils? Why, no, he hadn’t. Was it boring? Miraculously, no. Was it worth it, considering he ended up getting invited over to dinner? If the pastries Luo Binghe had made him before were an indication of his general abilities in the kitchen, Shen Yuan would have easily spent three more hours in that shop, listening to Binghe rave about the selection he could have never gotten in his tiny village that was apparently so remote that even ordering online wasn’t always possible, for such an invite.

Reality, sadly, is eager to unbury the mistake he had just set aside.

It does so via an email bearing his mother’s address, reminding him that his presence to Qin Wanyue’s birthday party was very much expected.

Shen Yuan is going to have to prepare his most cutting insults and, fuck, have to double down on ruining Luo Binghe’s reputation, isn’t he? He can’t admit his error. It would leave him open to attacks. He can only act even worse, treating Luo Binghe as if the revelation of his true parentage did not improve his status in Shen Yuan’s eyes.

Fuuuuck. How is he going to manage being meaner than he previously was to such a gentle soul? If Binghe looked hurt for even a second, Shen Yuan’s years of masquerade would burn down in an instant as he exploded in apologies.

He needs a plan.

“Shizun?”

“Binghe! Sorry to bother you so soon after I left, but do you have a minute? It’s important.”

“Shizun could never be a bother. What is he calling about?”

“Are you invited to Qin Wanyue’s party?”

“Yes. So is Shizun? It’s good that we’ll see each other again so soon!”

“No it’s not! I can’t be nice to you! I’m sorry, but you’ll thank me later. I just wanted Binghe to know that I don’t mean anything I tell him. He can’t take it to heart, okay? That’s just something that needs to be done.

“About that, I had an idea. It’ll be fun!”

Shen Yuan blinks. How could anything related to polite society be fun? He’s convinced that if fun and formal parties ever happened in the same space, a singularity would form and swallow the place whole.

And nothing of value would be lost. “What is Binghe’s idea?”

“We’re both acting, aren’t we? How about we flesh out our characters…”

________________________

Face impassive but heart beating so fast it’s about to jump out of his chest, Shen Yuan steps into the perfectly arranged garden party.

Whispers instantly rise. Smothered but mocking laughter can be heard. Eyes rove over him, anticipating the explosion they feel coming.

Luckily for them, they’re about to get their money’s worth.

Shen Yuan, as is his habitude, settles down somewhere unoccupied and pulls out his phone, trying to forget Binghe’s impending arrival within the pages of a terrible novel he usually loves to rage at. Very good source of inspiration for his current demeanor.

“Oh, it’s you. You dared to show your face here. I can’t believe your gall.”

Shen Yuan doesn’t look up. Xiao Gongzhu doesn’t deserve his attention.

Until she tries to slap him. “So arrogant! I’ll teach you your place!”

Her hand is caught by Luo Binghe, his long fingers curling around her wrist in a way that looks more caress than impediment. “A beautiful lady like you shouldn’t waste your time on the likes of him.”

Shen Yuan lifts his eyes from his phone and gives Luo Binghe his most disdainful glare. “I’d ask you to keep your pet on its leash, but if anyone here is a beast, it must be you, bastard.”

The silence around them is complete.

Tianlang-Jun had never been married. He wasn’t even known to maintain a mistress or two.

The family resemblance wasn’t striking, but present enough that Luo Binghe being an adopted child was unlikely.

Ergo, Luo Binghe is an illegitimate child, probably only brought into the family when the existence of legitimate heirs became unlikely. What a scandal, really.

No one had dared bring this up yet, but if anything would, it would be that asshole Shen Yuan, wouldn’t it?

Luo Binghe’s eyes focus on him, righteous anger on his face. “At least someone wants me. From what I understand, it’s never been your case, was it?”

Shen Yuan shoves his phone in his pocket with a swift gesture conveying fury. “Who would want someone here to want there? Each one more worthless than the other. You’ve really found your place, haven’t you?”

“If this world is so unpleasant to you, how about you leave and never come back? I assure you no one would miss you.” Luo Binghe turns toward the captivated audience. “Would you?”

Again, muffled laughter and cruel eyes, but few open responses. Too dangerous, really. Even if it didn’t compare to Tianlang-Jun’s empire, the Shen family was far from powerless.

Luo Binghe continues as if nothing had happened. “No one to defend you, I see. You didn’t give me a chance to demonstrate it, but I’m usually a kind man. If you had been able to control your nature for a few minutes, we might have become close, you and I. You’ve got so much more experience navigating these troubled seas. I would have welcomed the lessons.” Luo Binghe shakes his head in exaggerated sorrow. “Alas, it wasn’t to be. You have chosen otherwise, so by all means, let’s travel the road you’ve picked, shall we? For all that you’ve called me beast, you’re the raging dog chained to a post, unable to join in no matter how much he rages.” Luo Binghe waves at the air invitingly.” Go on, rage uselessly. It certainly is of no concern to me.”

“Can a head as empty as yours even be concerned with anything? Nothing you’ve said have proved otherwise. As for that taunt you tried to wield against me, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you. I have no interest in responding to you in any way. In fact,” Shen Yuan pulls his phone out of his pocket and goes back to his book, “you’re already wasted too much of my time. Go have fun with your equals. I’m sure they’ll soothe your fragile ego, in-between throwing daggers at your back.”

Shen Yuan stubbornly refuses to react to Luo Binghe’s sightly disbelieving laughter, or to the insults thrown to his face by others. He just lets Luo Binghe shake his head again, as if appalled, and guide his cronies away from Shen Yuan, leaving him in blessed peace.

Just as planned.

________________________

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how one of Beijing’s elite most infamous rivalry was born.

As far as said elite knew.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #the AU where SY and LBH are both online friends and fellow socialites #I hope to finish this in one or two other parts #because I cannot let this one drag on #LBH pov next maybe

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horrorslashergirl · 3 years

Text

Akshay Lah-Mo SFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Akshay isn't the most affectionate guy, the first impression being that of a cold, stoic, and emotionless man, but you know what they say... Learn to read through the words. It takes time for Akshay to warm up to people and even then he will sometimes have an abrasive demeanor. Now, if you are his s/o things are different, especially if it's only you and him. He can be quite affectionate with his s/o, especially after a long time in the relationship. He will wrap his muscular inked arms around you, kissing the crown of your head in the morning after you made him coffee, he will hold your hand as you walk with him through the snow-covered tundra. He will even get to speak up more about his emotions in his own way because he is a writer and his emotions are very deep and full of passion once he puts them out on a platter for his s/o. It's a long and icy road to get there but not impossible. In time this iceberg will show little by little his love and affection towards you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Akshay as a best friend depends on the other one. His best friend is Andrei Kulokova (@the-slasher-files 's OC). They are best buddies but they are also at each other's throats all the time... And the winner? None... They just end up all bloody and bruised, but at the end of the day, they care about each other and would protect the other ones back all the time. So to say so... Having Akshay as a best friend means that you have someone that doesn't beat around the Bush.... He will tell you if you are stupid and an idiot like he does with Andrei. He will make crud remarks like he does with Andrei, but in the end, everything is all because he cares about you.... Even as a friend. In his opinion, the people that truly have feelings for you, even if it's brotherly, they also tell you if you are wrong, they guide you. That's how Akshay is.... An honest man, because sincerity plays a big part in his life.... Be it friendship or relationship.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Full-time cuddling is strictly only for his s/o, someone for who he has true feelings because it's an intimate and vulnerable time. Especially after lovemaking, he loves to have his s/o into his arms or onto his lap, his behemoth frame hiding his true one from the cruel world outside, protecting them, assuring them that he is here with them.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Settling down has a different meaning to him. It simply means living with his s/o into his cabin home on the outskirts of a town in Alaska, surrounded by nature and quietness, enjoying each others company. Akshay is a man who enjoys the simpler things in life and loves the peacefulness that Mother Nature provides.

As for cooking and cleaning. He can cook a decent meal, since he lived alone for years in Alaska he learned to take care of himself. He cooks delicious deer and fish, so you won't be disappointed. Cleaning? Another pro... Akshay is quite a neat freak and likes to have his stuff in a certain order; his books perfectly arranged on the shelves, his clothes neatly folded into his closet. Living with him you won't have to yell at him to not let his dirty clothes on the floor.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

That's a touchy subject. Akshay isn't the type to break up over non-important things. Like, if he fights or argues with his s/o he will always be the mature one and make things right. He isn't one to run away from responsibilities and his s/o is his responsibility. He may be a brutish ice-cold killer but he has some sense in him and knows any relationship problem can be solved after the waters are calm and having a conversation about the problem.... Finding a solution.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Marriage isn't something Akshay is seeing, but if his s/o wants to get married... And he has very VERY strong feelings for them he won't be opposed to it. He wants to make his s/o happy so for their sake they can get married, but nothing big or fancy like. Maybe an exchange of rings into the snow-covered forest while sharing their promises to each other.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Akshay is a very brutal man who smashed skulls and can throw people through the roof. The feral rage of a polar bear, but with his s/o it's different. When Akshay deeply cares and loves someone, the brutish-looking man can be the most gentle person you have ever meet. He knows what deadly strength he packs and how easily is to snap bones like they were twigs so he is extra careful with his loved one, treating them like the most precious treasure made of the most fragile glass. His gentleness will show in time... With men, he is much rougher especially if they match his behemoth frame... With small women? A true gentleman.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes and doesn't like them. Kind of a paradox. He will only hug the people Who are the closest to him like family, very good friends, and his s/o of course. When hugging his friends the hugs are short with a pat on their back. As for his s/o? The hugs are long, his arms wrapping around their form, his fingers running through their hair and if they are small in height he will rest his chin on top of their head.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Akshay isn't a man who straight up says these big words just to be thrown there. He has to really FEEL that connection with someone to say they love words. He may not be a man of many words but he knows once the words are said you cannot take them back. He wants to be sincere when he says 'I love you'... To feel the words sink deep into his chest.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Akshay can be very jealous, especially when strangers get too close to his s/o in a very sleazy way. Just think about this scenario. Akshay and his special someone going to a coffee shop, he goes to take their order and while he does that, some idiot who has a death wish starts to flirt with his s/o without shame. The poor idiot soul will find himself with his jaw broken and teeth all knocked out on the floor.... And that's the easy and good case because this man has to problem ripping their arms out either.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Akshay's kisses could be described as deep and slow, taking his time and savoring the pure essence of the kiss, his hand running through his s/o's hair and his other hand resting on their lower back or simply holding their hip to be flush against his body. He loves to kiss his s/o on the lips, showing them that they are his or he kisses the top of their head if they are small-sized. As for where he likes to be kissed? He cannot deny that kissing the skin of his neck down below his ear really sends shivers down his spine.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He doesn't hate them but neither is he very excited about the little fellas. As long as they don't bother him or anything like that, he doesn't mind them. He is neutral in this aspect. He always finds himself next to the little ones asking him if he is a giant.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Akshay can be kind of lazy as he isn't the type to straight-up jump from the bed the moment he wakes up. He enjoys staying in bed a few more minutes after waking up, basking into the start of the morning. Morning for Akshay also means plates full of pancakes, maple syrup, and forest fruits along with a nice big hot cup of coffee. Mornings full of tranquility.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Akshay are as tranquil as the mornings. The nights with the Polar bear can be spent watching a movie, while cuddling under a fluffy blanket, eating snacks and sweets... Or going outside, watching the Alaskan Northern Lights, with a nice small picnic, taking into all that Mother Nature gives you two. Akshay can be quite the romantic type if you look through the hard and cold exterior of the Mountain of an iceberg.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Akshay is like a big real-life novel that you need to take time reading and then re-reading it all over again in order to understand him. He is like an enigma of the snow-covered deep forest... You need to melt the heavy pounds of ice and snow to see under the coldness that he puts out at first... It takes time and effort, but everything will be worth it once he slowly comes out of the frozen shell. He will reveal things slowly without trying once he finds himself trusting you and seeing that you mean well and are genuine into your actions.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Akshay has the patience of a God, but may the Lord have mercy once the last drop of patience evaporates. You know what they say... Beware of the calmest ones because you don't know when they will strike and trust me... You will know when Akshay strikes. It's like the calm waters of the ocean but at some point, these peaceful waters will transform into full-on hurricanes that shall destroy everything in their paths. His s/o is probably the only one who doesn't face these storms because he has a never-ending source of patience for them.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

Akshay has a pretty good memory. He remembers details of your past, your favorite movies, your favorite meal. The simpler things in life mean the most so he will never forget an anniversary or your birthday or if there is a certain special day that has a big meaning to you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment into your relationship with him would be the first night that you spend with him watching the Northern Lights while talking about all types of certain topics. The first moments about everything mean the most to him; the first kiss with you, the first breakfast together, the first time you two made love. These moments will forever be imprinted into his mind, like a tattoo.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Akshay is overly protective about his s/o and over his beloved ones too, even if you are a friend he will always have your back and never let you down no matter the situation. He will protect you with all he has, always standing in front of you, like a thick wall of ice that doesn't let even a single scratch leave your skin. He is the perfect epitome of a polar bear and he sure shows it when shielding his people most important to him. May God have mercy on the dumb ones that try to mess with his family.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Akshay isn't one for fancy dates or flamboyant anniversaries, but he does put effort into them, like cooking a delicious breakfast, running a hot bath with aromatic salts. For your and his anniversary, you might wake up and look out the window, seeing the words 'I LOVE YOU' written into the freshly fallen snow. He is a man of actions than words and his actions speak of how much he loves his s/o.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

One of Akshay's habits might be sometimes his blunt ice-like tongue and mouth. He is an honest man and speaks up his mind, to the point where his bluntness might be too acidic. Of course, he will try to suppress this habit with his beloved, trying to be more diplomatic about his thoughts and what he tries to say. If he says something that might hurt you emotionally, he will straight up to see the anger and sadness into your orbs and he will quickly soften... He will be the first one to apologize because he knows it's his fault.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

The Polar bear isn't one to be very absorbed in his looks, despite many people telling him how good-looking he is. What's not to like? Soft spikey white hair, deep pools of grey eyes, muscular arms covered by tribal ink all over, the tall and bulky frame that gives of protection vibes... He is a full package. He does take care of himself, like shaving and showering every day but he doesn't spend hours upon hours in the mirror. He is to say so.... Neutral about his looks.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Once Akshay loves, there is no turning back. He does it from the deepness of his heart and if I think about it on a very emotional level.... If his s/o breaks up with him, this man will shield himself well into ice and coldness, like a blizzard that you are afraid to enter. He might not be able to get over the breakup and there also might not be a next s/o. Trust is so easy to break yet even if you put it back together it's not the same.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Akshay is very fond of writing and having his home surrounded by all kinds of plants, being as close to nature as possible. He likes cozy and quiet vibes. Even if he lives in one of the coldest places on earth, there is a certain warmness when he enters his cabin and might make you never leave it, because of how at home you will feel.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Akshay doesn't like the big city, all that agitation and chaos gives him headaches and makes him uneasy as in, he feels like throwing people across buildings. It's like trying to put a polar bear on a leash and take him for a walk through New York City. Just NO. Plus all that pollution and ecologic disaster. He will go nuts.

As in for something he wouldn't like in a s/o? Probably big city 'divas' who would constantly complain about the lack of commercial centers, the weather being too cruel, and let's not get started on these females who are constantly walking with heels.... Nice try walking with stilettos through inches upon inches of snow. I suggest you go back from where you came from because Akshay doesn't put up with snobs.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Akshay is a light sleeper at the beginning but as the sleep progresses, he is a heavy sleeper, especially into the morning after he wakes up. If you try to wake him up he will just grunt and grumble, drapping one of his heavy legs over your body and pull you flush against his chest murmuring 'five more minutes'. Sleeping with Akshay is like sleeping into the big strong arms of a bear and during cruel winter nights you will never feel once a bit of coldness.

#Akshay Lah-Mo #Original characters #Slasher OC #Polar Bear #Soft Aesthetics #Sfw alphabet #Alaskan Man

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twst-pirateau · 4 years

Text

search for treasure - episode 0: prologue

Winter unleashes its wrath upon desolate land with howling winds and blankets of snow, the terrain an empty husk of its former vibrance. A lone cottage stands amidst the chaos, resilient against the cruel winter, a thin trail of smoke emitting from a minuscule chimney. Crystals chime from a gust of winter chill. A guest had arrived.

“Come in, young soul. You must be shivering from the cold. Please come in and make yourself comfortable,” A young lady smiles at the guest warmly. She gifts them with a bowl of mint tea and warm soup.

“Very well, you must be here for a journey, my dear. A journey like no other, a perilous journey worthy for a beating heart and a courageous soul..” She looks at the youth with intrigue, an amused smile curled at her lips. Somewhere tucked away a library of tomes, she retrieves a book, dust and yellowed from age. She leaves through yellowed pages and starts upon the beginning.

“While we await for the snow to settle, how about a story? Not to worry, young one. This isn’t your ordinary bedtime story..

‘On one summer day..’”

On one summer day, you startle awake, cold sweat brimming at their forehead. Cold tile send shivers down your spine, another miserable night in prison. You stretch aching muscles - somewhat pulling on the chains from your ankle and wrists. Everything hurts, from your swollen ankles to your bruised wrists.. All of this because of a simple act of pickpocketing. “Wake up, vermin,” You jump by the sound of clanging metal, shaking off the little drowsiness you had from a terrible night’s sleep. A scowl belonging to the unpleasant warden greets you, just another lovely sight to see.

“Slept well, Sleeping Beauty?” The warden’s drab and dreary clothes matches the misery by his lips. It’s too early to handle such a troublesome figure, especially someone with a terrible demeanor and scowl. You remain silent, glaring daggers at your captor. He guffaws, his scowl contorting to a nasty smirk - a look much worser than his former scowl.

“Glare at me all you want, you scoundrel. I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” He dangles a ringlet of keys in front of you, tempting you - You dare not to take the bait. A maniacal cackle curls his lips, one that echoes throughout the prison. The jailer makes his way down to the aisle and causes a ruckus about.

“Wake up, you lot! Look sharp for the Commander! If you’re nice and quiet, maybe one of you lucky bastards can go home today!” Curses and scuffles answer the warden’s morning call, unruly prisoners rising from their slumber only to be greeted by a vulgar warden. Misery lingers here in the corners of prison, parasitic with former shells of individuals who only rot from their evils in the world..

You want to leave this place. You wanted to leave this horrible hive of delinquents, murderers, and miserable folk. There had to be a way. A booming “Silence!” diminishes a moment of disparities as a figure enters the threshold. Here comes in a uniformed fellow, a man dressed in pitch black with a strange mask resembling a crow.

Your blood runs cold. A mysterious man with a mask of crow. Commander Crowley.. A man feared by his eccentric reputation and ‘kind’ countenance - The “Executioner” had arrived. The day today is the day where a lucky soul can finally leave the horrendous hellhole to embrace the sweet bliss of liberty. Today was the day many prisoners yearned to get, regardless if they may be serving a lifetime or just two months of prison.. The chains on your wrists and ankles felt heavier..

“Ah, Commander Crowley! Pleasant morning, isn’t it?” The warden greets the Commander with a sickening grin, revealing a toothy smile. You suppress the urge to retch out your disgust; instead, you watch the two figures ruminate upon the lucky prisoner.

“Yes! It’s such a fine morning, my dear Warden! Shall we share this wonderful morning with a special person today?” Crowley’s zestful tone starkly contrasts the gloomy ambiance of the prison - the poor Commander receives curses and vulgarities as a response.

You heave upon your chains, two burdens weighing you down terribly… Freedom is coming to your fingertips, you can feel in your bones. It didn’t matter if those two determined your freedom, for you were free in your heart and soul.

“-How about this one here?” Nearby voices startle you out of your stupor. The Commander and the Warden come before your cell. You remain silent, looking down to your chains. Let those figures rot in hell - you’ve had enough with this farce.

“Hmm,” A conniving smirk befalls the masked man.

“Oh yes, perhaps this one.. Quite pitiful, this one. This youth has a lot of life ahead of them. It would be a shame if they spend it all rotting away here. You,”

Metaliac clangings jolts you out of your stupor. “You!”

There is that stupid scowl of the Warden again.

“My, you look just perfect. What is your name?” The Commander looks at you with intrigue as the Warden quickly unlocks your prison cell.

“(y/n),”

The masked man’s face lights up with joy - “Ah yes, the wonderful (y/n). It’s such a shame to find you here in the gallows all by your lonesome. Today is your lucky day, my child. You’re set free,”

Those two last words seem to echo in your head. Freedom? Was it really true? The day you become emancipated from the chains of something cruel and wicked was finally happening.. Before you can register those words, the chains around your ankles and wrists loosen. Finally..

“Ah, how delightful. You’re finally free from your chains. Now, come,”

How long has it been since you last walked? You fumble, pain shooting up your feet as you attempt to walk again, your ankles throbbing with a vengeance.. You stumble before Crowley, his arms stabling you upright.

“Careful, careful, little one,” He chuckles lightly, brushing off debris from your shoulder. You couldn’t even fathom what was transpiring at the moment - your legs buckle under you from just a menial stroll out of your cell to his arms.. How pathetic you made yourself in front of the Commander. “Consider this as the first day of your new life. Now, come along, we don’t have time to waste!” He wraps an arm around yours, escorting you out of the prison. You didn’t look back.

Bustling clamour of a busy harbor welcomes you back to the vibrancy of life - little children frolicking about, men lazing drunkenly in taverns, and women laboring tirelessly under the sun. You were finally back, thanks to the Fates and the kindness of the Masked Commander..

As a treat to your freedom, he rewards you with gifts: a dagger inherited from your father, a pouch of coins, and a letter from your mother. These three items were enough.. Just the items from your long dead parents and enough money to get around the town.

You scour about the harbor, excitement bubbling in your midst. There is so much to do in a day.

Where do you go?

To the harbor.

To the tavern.

Further into the town.

End of Episode 0

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afandommultiverse · 4 years

Text

Rival - Langris Vaude

Word Count - 2252 Request -

A/n: Enjoy and remember to vote! I got some more coming out soon too!! Not completely gender - neutral but damn near- sorry I switch while I write..

"Sir Langris? This will be your new disciple." A lower member from the Golden Dawn a girl following him, head tall. Langris said nothing to his fellow member and instead looked at him to leave his office. Of course, they did, leaving you and your new teacher alone.

"So, you're one of the newest recruits? Hmm... you don't look like much." Well, he didn't really look anyway, still looking down at some paperwork left on his desk by Wiliam to go over.

"Yes, well, I could say the same about." Langris froze. You watched as he tensed, his hands tightening slightly.

"What did you just say?" Langris looked up anger, from her comment and the disrespect. What the hell was William thinking when he- Oh. Langris' breathing stopped when his eyes fell on you. Soft and feminine but the fire in your eyes held independence and will.

You were gorgeous.

"I will not let you speak to me in such a manner. I am your superior and you will treat me with the respect I deserve."

"Yes, you are my Superior, but you have been nothing but rude and ignorant since I have arrived. So I will treat you with the respect you earn." Your arms were crossed, your eyes glaring down at him. He was almost intimidated. Almost.

How was it he felt so powerless under your gaze? He didn't like it. He wanted his power back.

So he laughed. It caught you off guard and no doubt sent chills down your spine. It was so emotionless and empty but at the same time completely normal and happy to the untrained ear. Langris grabbed a piece of paper and quickly began to make a list, chores would be your training for the next week or possibly longer. It was stupid, but he'd make it hell.

"When you decide to treat me as I should be, maybe ill think of actually letting you on a mission," he slid the paper to you and stood walking away carelessly and strode to the door.

"But for now, have fun cleaning up after everyone." The door slammed shut and Langris' careless demeanor fell. The anger began to radiate from his body and before he knew it, he was stomping his way to his Captain's office.

William felt the anger before it was even in the room, and at that moment he knew Langris had met you. The door was knocked on furiously, he may be angry but he wasn't a fool.

"Come in." The door opened fast and shut quickly with a loud bang before Langris strode over to the chair in front of William's desk and sat down.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but what were you thinking when choosing her?" William fought hard to stop the smirk from pulling up his lips.

"Y/n wasn't chosen. The Wizard King ordered her to be placed with the Golden Dawn." Langris stopped, the Wizard King wanted you here?

"Why?"

"She's powerful." William was short, staring into the eyes of Langris.

"That's it? She's powerful? She didn't feel like it if anything she had pretty average mana-

"Langris, did you even check?"

"Of course I did-"

"Then you wouldn't be here right now." It was then Langirs felt it, the immense mana emitting from below him. It was like a beacon- and yet he didn't even notice it when he first saw you. It was like it had balanced around the room- taking life in ordinary objects to make the room feel as though it was the same. What the hell were you?

"Where are they from?"

"The Witches Forrest."

"What? I thought they hated men and stayed in their little Forrest."

"Yes, well Y/n's, a different case, and we don't need the Queen of Witches knowing about her yet. She's not to go on any missions yet. We are to wait for clearance from the Wizard King." Langris had no problem with that, but he couldn't help but be more intrigued by you now.

Hiding from the Queen of Witches, who were you?"

~~~

"You missed a spot." Langris swiped his finger over the window seal, picking up nonexistent dust. He wiped his finger gently on your shirt as he stared at you condescendingly. 6 weeks of this shit- and you were over it.

"That it!" You ripped the gloves off your hands and dropped all of your cleaning supplies. The mana around began to grow, almost boiling the room with its intensity. Langris stepped back, watching as purple flamed expanded from your body and burn around you. Unease filled his body as he looked at you, his heart pounding in his chest but his legs wouldn't move.

"If I wanted to be a maid, I WOULD HAVE STAYED IN THAT GODDAMN FORREST!" He couldn't stop staring at you. You looked like a goddess, ready to reap hell for the pain he caused you.

Then it all stopped.

The overwhelming sense of mana was gone, along with your flames. Your body was tight and tense as you looked down, arms shaking with the effort to hold your anger in. It felt as though Langris could move again, but he didn't. He stared at you with wide eyes like a fool until some burst the door open.

"Sir Vaude! Are you all alright? I-"

"I'm fine. Return to your post immediately."

"But sir-"

"Now!" The guard turned to close the door and left, leaving the two in silence again.

"Y/n-" But you were storming off, slamming the door and leave Langris alone. It hurt him to see you leave like that and he had no idea why. Over the weeks you've been here, you had filled his mind at all times of the day and it was driving him mad. Was this a spell? You had to of been doing this to him on purpose.

Langirs's office door was slammed shut for the last time that night as he walked off to William's. Just, as usual, William felt Langris coming to his office before he saw him.

"Langris." William acknowledged him as he sat in front of the desk harshly, sort of throwing his body in the chair instead of actually sitting.

"Your upset."

"That damned witch put a spell on me," Langris grumbled looking to the side, ashamed to admit it.

"Excuse me?"

"Where ever I go I can't stop thinking about them, and their hair and how bright their eyes are! Not to mention that stupid little thing they do when their thinking, chewing on-

"Langris, they didn't put a spell on you." William smiled childishly at Langris, and Langirs did no like it. "What do you mean? They had to!" Langris cried. William leaned back in his chair and stared at Langris.

"You like her."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I- ARG!" Langris stood from the chair out of frustration and walked to one of William's bookshelves, holding old scripts and treasures worth thousands, maybe more.

"They won't ever like me back," Langris whispered the truth and weight of his actions to you settling on his chest.

"Not with the way your acting now, no."

"Then what should I do?"

"Leave it to me."

"What?" Langris turned back to look at his Captain. William was standing and cleaning up his desk before walking to his door.

"You are going to apologize to Y/n and release her of her chores and she is to be on the next mission."

"What are you-"

"Just go, Langris, I have business to attend to." William held the door open and waited for Langris to walk through it. He did and turned back to look William one last time.

"The last thing, be nice, okay?" William could only nod before the door was shut in his face.

Langris stood there for a bit, confused about what just happened, but William was right. He needed to apologize.

That what led him here, to your room, hand raised to knock. But before he could, the door swung open and there was you.

"Sir Vaude?" You question before your eyes narrowed and your mouth sneered. He hated that expression on your face, he hated that, that was the face you made when you looked at him.

"I-," Embarrassment and pride welled up in Langris throat as he tried to apologize to you. And it as unsettling, he was shaking and sweating and thinking real hard. It looked painful.

"Langris, what the hell are you doing?" You snapped at him, annoyed with his antics, and though you probably shouldn't have done that to your superior- you didn't care. He sighed and looked you in the eye blankly staeing,

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I have treated you. It was wrong of me, especially when you were right. You are removed from your chore duties and will be assigned to the next possible mission." As soon as Langris was finished, he turned and walked away hurriedly trying to run away from the weight chasing on his shoulders, but you stopped him.

"Langris, wait!" He stopped, turning to look behind him slightly, prompting you to continue.

"Thank you." His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

"For what?"

"For saying sorry. No one has ever done that before."

"No one ever told you sorry?!" Langris turned and turned towards you in astonishment. Feeling the bitest of anger well inside him.

"Never." He calmed and stopped. Looking down at the ground before him, he had no right to be angry at the ones who wronged you when he himself did you, but he isn't them.

"That is truly a shame, but I will do anything I can to make sure that never happens to you ever again." He really played up the Nobel act but not in a snobby way, and he could tell you enjoyed it by the small smile you tried to stop pulling at your lips before turning away and walked back to your room.

"Goodnight, Sir Vaude."

~~~

The next day you were sent on a small mission to guard some noblemen and women. Halfway through the trip it was attacked but it was useless, you effortlessly defeated the thieves quickly and quietly to make sure that the children and newborns wouldn't wake or cry.

With the outstanding success and gratitude of the wives and party was thrown in celebration. It took place in the golden dawn courtyard. It was in full bloom with any color of flower visible all around you.

Everyone was to attend including the vice Capitan Langirs, and he couldn't be any more miserable. Until he saw you, giggling and laughing with your fellow knights, Yuno, Klaus, and Mimosa.

"Go talk to her." Langris turned to look to his side and saw William.

"I'm sure she doesn't want to see me and ruin her celebration."

"And how do you know that?" William turned to look at Langris and dark look in his eye.

"She would be naive not to hate me."

"Naive or understanding?"

Langris turned and left distancing himself from William, and you and anyone else who wants to push him tonight. It was when he had escaped to a quiet walkway along with the darker flowers that you snuck up on him.

"You've been avoiding me." You spoke. Langris steps stopped and he turned to look at you. You were gorgeous. Downed in a dress that fits you perfectly, the color bringing out the hues of your eyes. The celebration far into the night now, the moon showed down on you, and your skin looked as though it was glowing. You made him speechless and distracted him to no end and he hated it. But the thought of losing the sight of you killed him.

"I've been avoiding everybody." You nodded and walked forward, your fingers brushing against dark petals, and as you did this, the tiny fairies which lived in the petals woke and began to flutter around you. They glowed and flew around whispering and waking their sisters furthering lighting up the area around them.

"I never realized how beautiful this place was," Langris spoke as he looked around himself, amazed at the sights he had been taking advantage of. When he turned back to look at you, you were in front of him smiling kindly. His heart seemed to pound and he felt like he couldn't breathe and then your hand lifted to his cheek and he froze altogether.

"I like to think I'm understanding." You whispered smiling deviously up at him.

"How- ....You-But" Your sweet giggle filled the air and you leaned against him as you tried to control your amusement. Before he knew it he was holding you against him, his hands traveling without him realizing and when he did he felt as though he was going to explode.

"I- uh is this o-okay?" He looked down at you nervously before looking off to the side, and fairy laughing at him catching his attention. He was about the yell and the dan thing before you grabbed his jaw softly and turned him to look at you. "Perfect." You lent forward and pressed your lips against him softly. He stood there like a fool before he really understood what was going on. But he pulled you closer and kissed you back a little hard and loving none the less.

#Black Clover #black clover langris #oneshot #xreader #langris vaude #langris vaude x reader

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idyllicstarker · 5 years

Note

Could you do a selectively mute peter parker fic where peter after years of not speaking finally speaks to Tony to confess that he is in love with him?

I found this extremely hard to write and I’m not too sure why, so I’m sorry if this isn’t too good for you. I hope you can forgive me! Also tumblr said no to paragraphs so I’m sorry about that too!

Warnings: Mute!Peter, very minor sexual implications

Everyone always told him it was a shame that no one had noticed young Peter Parker closing in on himself - maybe then, early intervention could have been taken, and Peter wouldn’t be silent now. In a way they were right, after the death of his parents, Peter had begun to speak less and less. It was a slow, and gradual decline. His speech became shorter, less frequent, but when he did speak, he was smart, for a child, so no one really thought it was a problem. He was sad, not quite old enough to recognise the trauma, but enough to feel the loss and confusion.

When his Uncle Ben died in the fire, well that’s when people really began to notice it. Peter wouldn’t speak, not unless he was called for. His sentences became short, sharp, and straight to the point. Never speaking longer then he needed to.

And then one day they just stopped altogether.

It wasn’t that Peter had lost it, no, he chose this. He chose to go quiet because it just seemed far easier. And although it was a difficult task at first, he soon realised it was one of the best decisions he’d ever made.

Not speaking allowed him to listen - pay attention to things he wouldn’t have before, because he didn't have to open his mouth and join in the conversation. He was allowed to just observe for the most part. Of course people still spoke to him, but very few did, they didn’t like it, they found it awkward, or not worth their time. It didn’t matter to Peter. He wasn’t selectively mute to be special, it wasn’t a personality trait or a quirk - he did it because he felt safer when he was locked in his own silence. He knew, at first, if he was to open his mouth everything he felt would spill out, it frightened him. Now, it was a habit, and some days he knew he wouldn't be able to speak even if he wanted to.

Thus, young Peter found other ways to communicate. At first it took a lot of getting used to. Having to scrawl down on paper what he was trying to say; or type into his phone for it to repeat it back aloud; being shouted at by teachers when he wouldn’t answer a question by voice when he was picked on; adults and children alike finding him rude for not replying. Many still thought that, but those close to him, and those in school, knew by now that Peter just wouldn’t speak, no matter how much you shouted or scoffed at him.

Well.. almost everyone. Flash, for example, was still trying to get Peter to speak to him. He called him weird, abnormal; said he was attention seeking, even hitting and kicking him in order to try and get Peter to yell out. But the most he got was a pained whimper or grunt. But it didn’t matter. Peter was still happy. Despite what other people thought.

Meeting Tony had been interesting. Him and his friends had gotten into the habit of learning sign language to communicate. It was helpful and they did it naturally. But Tony, and the rest of the avengers, took a bit of time in understanding Peter. But they never once got frustrated. And Peter was glad - having been asked countless times before why he “wouldn’t just speak”, it was nice to not be questioned for once. They tried, they all did, to be patient with him, and Peter was thankful. In meetings, he’d raise his hand, and Tony would allow him to let his typed out comment repeat his idea aloud, he was never left out of forgotten. Just because he wouldn’t speak, it didn’t mean his ideas went unnoticed, they were listened to and heard, but most of all, appreciated.

“Hey Peter, can you pass me the screwdriver?”

The younger male looked up from his desk in the lab at Tony, who was tinkering away at some device opposite him.

They two quickly fell into some sort of routine in which Peter was there most nights, helping Tony out and just.. as Peter liked to call it: hanging out. It wasn’t just a figment of his imagination, in a way they were actually doing that. Tony sometimes insisted that he slept over, or ate with him. And sometimes, after a particularly long day, they’d settle on the couch and watch a movie. It was everything Peter had ever dreamed of from his idol and more.

Except maybe for the fact that Tony treated him like a son. Now don’t get me wrong, he was flattered, but the crush he was harbouring for the older male, not so much.

Biting down on his lip, Peter nodded his head, despite the fact that he knew Tony wasn’t even looking at him. Grabbing the screwdriver he hopped down from his stool before walking over to pass it to Tony. “Thanks kid”, came the reply, causing Peter to sigh softly.

‘Kid’, he hated it. He hated the word because it only confirmed what Tony thought of him. And as selfish as it was, Peter wanted more. He wanted Tony. Every moment he spent with him he found himself falling madly and madly in love with him and it just didn’t stop. Every accidental touch left energy buzzing through his veins. And it hurt, it hurt so bad, that Tony didn’t feel it too and only saw him as some sort of child.

Moving back to his stool, he sat down, and pulled his tablet towards him. He pressed on the pre command “you’re welcome”, and listened as it emitted the words.

A couple of months back Tony made him the special tablet to make typing out audio quicker. It had precommands for efficiency and Peter could set it to save anything he’d like. Peter almost cried when Tony gave it to him because apart from Ned (who’d learned sign language for him; mj of course already knew it) no one had ever tried that hard to ensure Peter could have a normal conversation with them.

It made everything so much easier. From simply talking to Tony, to answering questions in class, to ordering food in a restaurant.

His fingers brushed over the screen affectionately before his gaze moved over to where Tony was hunched over his workbench. Peter’s lips turned up in a smile at the sight. The man was covered in various smudges of a dark liquid Peter couldn’t identify. His face was scrunched in concentration the way it always was, lips pressed together, eyebrows furrowed together, jaw clenched.

It made Peter laugh softly, typing out a quick sentence. “You need to relax Tony, anyone would think someone is forcing you to work!”

The man looked up with tired eyes, before rolling them slightly. “I am relaxed!”, he protested, before sighing and setting down the screw driver at Peter’s ‘don’t even start with me’ look.

“Alright kid, fine. We’ll finish up for today. We’ll go take showers and then watch a movie, I think Chinese tonight?”

Peter’s smile grew at the offer, shyly tucking some hair behind his ear as he nodded. The smile that grew on Tony’s face had his heart fluttering quite softly. The man was so handsome, from his rugged jawline that Peter desperately wanted to press kisses over, to his eyes. They were always so soft and affectionate when looking at him. Those times when Peter gazed straight back into them were the times where just for a moment he could kid himself that Tony actually felt something back. Something more than pity for the silent kid with the traumatic past. But of course, Tony didn’t, and that was the reality. Tony could have anyone, beautiful men and women alike, he wouldn’t even look twice at little old Peter if he wasn’t his so-called ‘intern’ or on his team.

“Kid?”

Peter blinked quickly as he was snapped from his thoughts at the sound of Tony’s concerned voice. He smiled to show he was okay, before hopping down from his stool. Tony had come to stand in front of him, not sure on why Peter had suddenly lacked life, so when Peter stood, their bodies brushed against each other gently. Peter swallowed, a small blush falling over his pale cheeks, but of course Tony took it as embarrassment at being questioned instead, and laughed.

The sound only made Peter blush harder, shaking his head as he scrunched up his nose before sticking out his tongue - a pattern of expressions Tony had come to know as a playful ‘don’t be mean.’

He smiled softly, reaching out a hand to ruffle Peter’s hair. The boy in turn let out a huff, and swatted his wrist away. Grabbing onto the tablet he began to type before eventually his words sounded out. “You’re a mean old man!”

As soon as Tony heard it, he laughed out loud, shaking his head, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and beginning to lead him out of the lab. “I’m not that old, you’re just a baby”, he said in response.

Any other person may protest, or shrug and let it go, but to Peter, he felt a horrible pang in his chest. A baby, that’s all he was to Tony. He smiled sadly, suddenly interested in his beaten up old converse, and yet still overly alert at the fact that he was tucked against Tony’s side - and yes, the man smelt good. Hours in the lab did nothing to Tony’s hygiene, a loss of cologne maybe, but the musky scent of sweat and hard work only delighted Peter.

He swallowed tightly, willing himself to not turn his head so that he could get more and instead began to type once again.

“My therapist is coming tomorrow, so is it alright if I stay over, I don't see the point in leaving and coming back”

Tony nodded his head, “Of course Peter, you know you don’t have to ask”, he hummed softly, and Peter smiled. It was times when Tony said little things like that, that kept him happy.

The therapy began within weeks of Peter and Tony growing closer. Despite still not knowing the direct cause of his silence, let alone working to get him to speak more, it helped him come to terms with the traumatic events of his past. And it helped, it did, Peter was happier, he smiled more. Despite protesting Tony paying for it at first, the man simply shrugged him off. And even now, Tony would say it’s ‘money well spent as long as you’re smiling.’

Eventually they ended up outside Peter’s designated room, and Tony let go. Peter already missed the warmth and safeness he had felt, but of course he simply nodded at Tony’s commands of “take as long as you need, and I’ll meet you downstairs”, as the man walked away.

With a sigh, Peter walked into his room. Setting the tablet down on his desk he closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go trying to hide it. He was certain everyone could see the way his pupils dilated when he looked at Tony, the softer loving smile on his lips, the way he gazed over him longingly. Everyone could see it but Tony.

He’d gone through months of this. Tony being seen with various people, and Peter even seeing some leaving the tower. It was torture for him because he wanted to be the one in Tony’s bed. And yet he couldn’t.

When Peter was done with his shower he made his way downstairs. Tony was already in the lounge, sitting down on the couch, remote in his hand as he seemed to be watching some type of football. He had on grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and Peter had to bite down on his lip because Tony just looked so good when he was relaxed and casual. Don’t get me wrong, the expensive suits were sexy, but the intimacy of seeing Tony like this was always something he didn’t quite get over.

The arms of his hoodie pulled over his fists, he shuffled over to the couch, smiling softly at Tony as he set the tablet beside him.

“Hey kid”, came the greeting, Tony bowing his head slightly, “why don’t you choose something to watch and I’ll order some food. You want the usual?”, he asked.

With a slow movement, Peter took the remote from Tony’s outstretched hand and nodded his head. He remembered… he always remembered what he liked. The thought made his heart swell as he began on to Netflix and tried to concentrate on finding an interesting movie but it was hard when he was so close to Tony’s warm body. The man’s legs were open, leant back against the couch, strong thighs apart. The sinful things Peter would do to get between them.

He clenched his eyes shut. No! He couldn’t be thinking like this. Letting out a soft sigh, he stopped on a movie he thought they both could enjoy before shuffling to cross his legs underneath him.

“You know Pete, me and you don’t really talk. You don’t tell me about yourself.”

Peter was confused at the sudden words, turning his gaze to look over Tony, but the man’s own gaze was down on his phone, seemingly still ordering the food. Licking over his bottom lip, Peter shrugged before beginning to type.

“Well… what do you want to know then?”

Tony smiled, but stayed silent for a moment, before setting his phone down and turning to look at the younger boy.

“Well, I know about your friends. But what about someone special in your life huh? Rumour was it, for a while, that you and MJ were a thing?”, Tony questioned.

The moment Peter received his reply he began to splutter, hitting his chest to try and get his heart to restart. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting but, it wasn’t that. His pulse sped up, and suddenly the room was way too warm. Did Tony know? Had he been reading his thoughts or something - no, that wasn’t possible… but this didn’t make sense.

With trembling hands he resumed typing, hoping he wasn’t acting too suspicious. “No.. no, we’re not.. I don’t really like anyone.”

Tony scoffed, shaking his head. “Come on kid that’s gotta be a lie. Look at you. You’re beautiful. Even if you think you don’t like anyone, someone has gotta like you..”

Tony continued but Peter wasn’t really concentrating. He didn’t know if he wanted to blush at being called beautiful by him, or throw up at the questioning. It was a lot, and suddenly Peter didn’t want to be beside Tony at all. He could still hear him talking, but he couldn’t make out anything he was saying. Everything was so blurry, everything felt so out of place. Peter knew now was his moment but his hands couldn’t type. They refused. His heart however was screaming.

It all happened so quickly before Peter could even register he’d done it.

“It’s you. I love you Tony.”

The voice that spoke was quiet, raspy. From years of barely being used. It sounded soft, but yet husky, it hadn’t quite got used to it’s vocal chords. Peters hands were shaking and his eyes widened as he’d realised what he’d done.

One quick glance at Tony, and he noticed the man’s own eyes were wide open too. He clearly hasn’t been expecting to hear Peter actually speak. It was the first time he’d ever heard his voice. But that wasn’t the only reason why he was shocked. That confession… he hadn’t been expecting it.

But Peter knew at that moment he’d messed up - or at least that’s what he thought. He was ready to run, bolting up, but was surprised to feel a hand grab onto his own, and pull him back down. He refused to look at Tony. But he didn’t need to.

A calloused but gentle hand grabbed onto his cheek, angling his head to face him. Yet Tony didn’t speak. Simply leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Peter’s soft lips.

When he pulled away, Peter’s heart was racing. It was like someone let off a firework inside of him. Everything was on fire, in a good way. He was slightly panting as he looked over Tony’s eyes, and then his lips, gently curled into a smile.

“I love you too Peter”, came the gentle words.

Peter’s eyes widened in disbelief, shaking his head, yet Tony only chuckled and pulled him to his chest. Peter let out a soft relieved breath as he turned his nose against his neck to breathe in his scent. He didn’t speak, but Tony wasn’t expecting him to.

“We’ll work on you speaking again, okay?”, Peter nodded. “But please, please don’t hide from me, I want to hear you sweetheart.”

Peter smiled, curling up more against the older man. “Okay”, he croaked out. More confident now, it was obvious.

There was so much more that they needed to discuss, but for now, he was silent, but he knew he didn’t have to be forever.

#starker #starker fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #skylar writes #skylars asks

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z-iridest · 4 years

Text

The Phoenix Queen:

A Pharaoh Atem x OC short story

Long ago, in the days when the Great Pyramids were still young, there were two children born. One, was a boy, born to the royal family of Egypt, the heir to the throne. The other, was a girl, born to a common family in a small village. Though they had nothing, their kindness and love were well known. The girl's father was a warrior, a royal guard who swore to always protect the Pharaoh. The girl's mother was a woman of great beauty, and her kind heart knew no bounds. Though the girl's parents were not royalty, the child was their own little princess. They named her... Asenath. They raised her to be as kind, and courageous as she was beautiful. But, when the child was merely eight years old, tragedy struck.....

The screams of the villagers filled the air as quickly as a fire began to spread. Bandits rode in on steeds as black as the night, many of the men remaining in the village taking up arms and beginning to fight back, trying to defend their home. Neith, Asenath's mother, ran through the crowds, carrying Asenath in her arms. Since her husband was at the palace, guarding the Pharaoh, he could not come to save them in time, even if she could warn him. The only thing she could think to do was to save their daughter. Neith hid Asenath in the shadows, the child's gold flecked, hazel eyes filled with fear. As Neith turned to face the enemy, she felt her daughter's small hand grasp her own. "Mama, don't leave me." Asenath whimpered. With tears in her eyes, Neith knelt and hugged her daughter one last time. Neith pulled away only slightly to look into her daughter's eyes, the eyes that were identical to her own. She tucked a stray, dark auburn hair behind Asenath's ear.

"My love, I will never leave you... Not truly. As long as you have courage, and be kind, I will be with you always." Neith promised before her hand slipped from Asenath's smaller one. Neith grabbed her sword, running into battle with the men, leading the bandits away from her daughter's hiding place......

By the time the sands had settled, no one was left alive in the village... Except one... As the smoke faded into the air, the fires dying out, little Asenath cried, shaking with the cold winds of the desert's cruel and harsh nights. A dim golden light began to glow, going unnoticed by the child. A sudden warmth spread out onto a small area on her back, a cloth wrapping around the child's shoulders. The warmth lulled Asenath to sleep, a soft voice whispering in her ear.

"You are safe, Asenath. Rest now."

In the years that followed, Asenath learned how to properly wield a sword, and to fight. As she grew, in her heart, she remained courageous and kind, though a power grew within her. You see, along with the time she lived in, were the great but terrible Shadow Games. These "games" involved shadow creatures great and small, sometimes the monsters being used in war.... Other times, the Shadow Games were used as strictly training. Deep within Asenath's heart, a creature grew stronger. Though most shadow creatures were thought to be malicious and led their hosts to commit horrible acts, the one within Asenath's heart was a benevolent force, feeding on the kindness in her heart. While Asenath's father worked at the palace, Asenath practiced her magic by healing those in need. By the time Asenath was fifteen, she had grown into a beautiful young woman, however, there was much more to the young woman.... The training with her father, both in sword and shadow magic, built her into the fiercest warrior in all Egypt... Even if she was a common girl... It was during these years of training that her father remarried to a woman. Pompous and vain, Asenath's stepmother Tiye had two daughters of her own: Maye and Nenet. Tiye, when Asenath's father was away at the Palace, was a cruel woman to Asenath... So much so, that the only place Asenath felt at home was healing the people of Egypt.

The day before her fifteenth birthday, Asenath left her home early in the morning, just as she had many times before. The clothing she wore that day was a scarlet cotton dress along with the necklace her father had given her (A/N: pictured below).

Over the dress was a cloak, the hood over her head to protect her from the scorching heat the Egyptian afternoon would bring. Asenath gave a kind smile to the sick and injured on the side of the road as she approached, cupping her hands together and focusing as she knelt. A scarlet golden glow began to shine in her hands, revealing a scarlet gold phoenix when the light dimmed. The bird itself was small, but it gave a caw and flew to rest on Asenath's shoulder as she began the healing process. The little phoenix, who she had named Bennu, stayed obediently on her shoulder, chirping as Asenath cared for the weak. Many grasped her hands in thanks once she had finished, to which Asenath only replied with a smile.

"Where were you?! You know better to run off while you still have chores to do!" Tiye shrieked the moment Asenath stepped into their home several hours later.

"Stepmother, as I have said several times before, someone must help the sick and injured. If not me, then who?" Asenath asked as she set the down the basket of freshly bought food down, removing her cloak.

"And as I have told you several times, I DO NOT CARE! You are forbidden from interacting with those... Those street rats ever again..."

"Or what, Stepmother? Father would never allow you to throw his own flesh and blood out on the streets, try as you might, and not a single one of them are street rats!" Asenath asked, facing her stepmother. Tiye growled in rage before the younger of her daughters, Nenet, entered the room.

"Mother, please, calm yourself. I think it is wonderful that Asenath's trying to help them with her magic." Nenet defended her stepsister. Tiye scoffed.

"The only magic a woman should be worried about is magic to make herself look younger and more beautiful. Who cares about caring for the weak when you can improve your own appearance. It is best for a lady to prepare to marry into power." Tiye commented, making Asenath roll her eyes.

"Women have every bit of a right to protect the Kingdom as men do, Stepmother, that is what Father says." Asenath replied as she began on the remaining chores she had left to do. Her father was due home any moment, having been away for several days at the Palace. Asenath smiled at the thought of seeing her father again. Her father, Osiris, was a kind man as well as one of the best warriors in all of Egypt. It broke Asenath's heart each time they were forced to be apart, but Asenath always held onto the hope that he would always return. But, she had no way of knowing that this time would be different. A knock sounded at the door just as Asenath finished lighting the oil lamps. The fourteen-year-old answered the door, the sight of her father's best friend at the door bringing a warmth to her heart.

"Amos, it is good to see you." Asenath greeted before her smile fell, noticing the grief stricken look on his face. "What is wrong?"

"It's your father, Asenath. There was an intruder at the palace... He tried attacking the Pharaoh, but your father got in the way and took the hit... He's gone." Amos revealed with Tiye standing behind Asenath. While Tiye covered her mouth in horror, tears gathered in Asenath's eyes as she bowed her head. "He left this for you, miss." Amos finished, holding out a small staff. The moment it was placed into Asenath's touch, the staff extended, revealing itself to be her father's spear. A sharp knife like blade on one side while the other side held a Kopesh blade. She willed it back to the small staff, holding it to her heart.

"Th-thank you for telling us... I-It must have been difficult for you to deliver such news." Asenath thanked him, barely holding her tears as she closed the door once more. As Tiye relayed the information to her daughters, Asenath put her back to the door, her entire body trembling with sorrow until she dissolved into tears and sobbed.

Beginning the day the news of her father's death had reached her, Asenath was treated like a slave by her stepsisters and stepmother, though Nenet was often times the one who advocated for her.... Or at least tried... The only possessions that Asenath had left and were allowed to keep was her mother's old gown, the red dress she had on, her father's spear and the scarab necklace her father had given her. Though the treatment at home had become harsh, Asenath remained kind, continuing to heal and help those in need. She had no way of knowing how things would begin to change....

The day of her sixteenth birthday, Asenath was healing the sick and injured just like everyday. However, this particular day, while Asenath tended to those in need, she was spotted by her Stepmother. Tiye, in a furied rage, grabbed Asenath by her hair, making the girl cry out in pain. "HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY ME!" She shrieked as she dragged Asenath up on her feet and away from those on the streets. Many stepped forward, but a burning glare from Tiye made them shrink back in fear. As soon as the women entered the home, Asenath was thrown painfully to the ground. "HAVE YOU NO SHAME?! DO YOU WANT US TO HAVE SEKHMET CURSE US WITH THE PLAUGES THEY CARRY! FOOLISH CHILD, YOU WILL BE PUNISHED FOR YOUR DISOBEDIENCE!" Tiye grabbed her whip while Maye laughed and began to beat Asenath, Nenet trying to get her sister to stop. Maye switched her focus on her sister long enough to push her to the ground before Tiye struck Asenath, making her scream in pain as she was whipped. When it finally stopped, Asenath had tears of pain cascading down her face and could just barely move because of the pain she was under. Maye and Tiye laughed hysterically as they watched Asenath struggle to stand before the young girl found her footing and ran to the stables to ride her father's horse, Asim. While Nenet yelled at her mother and sister for their actions, Asenath rode out of the kingdom, holding onto the reins as Asim galloped through the desert sands. Asenath hid her face in his mane as she cried, the bruises and whip marks sending shockwaves of pain through her. Asenath wanted a way for the suffering to end. She was a no one, a servant girl in her own father's home....

Asim suddenly reared, making Asenath scream as she clung to Asim's mane to prevent herself from being thrown off. Asim snorted as men surrounded them. Slave traders.... Asenath thought, her eyes spotting an opening, a hole in the men's formation. "Hyah!" Asenath urged Asim toward the opening, the men chasing after her. Asenath soon recognized the old ruins of her home village, but led the men to it. It would be the perfect place to unleash her Ka's battle form without harming anyone else. As soon as Asim set foot into the village, Asenath drew her spear and stuck out her arm, though it hurt her to do so. "Bennu Magician, come forth!" She called, a female spellcaster with a staff in her hand rising behind her. She was clad in scarlet gold armor, her hair a crimson red with gold streaks and amber colored eyes. She spun her staff, pointing it at the men coming toward them as Asenath dismounted from her horse, spinning her spear and standing in the clearing, ready to meet the men who would dare fight them. As soon as they were close enough, Asenath gave the order: "Bennu Magician, attack! Scolding Scepter Blast!" The spellcaster obeyed, a scarlet gold glow coming from the staff before it wiped out a majority of the men chasing Asenath, making them disappear. The three that remained, Asenath glared down as they dismounted, drawing swords. Asenath walked towards them as her Ka transformed into a phoenix. The men charged her, and with a battle cry, Asenath blocked an attack before countering with her own. The clang of metal upon metal rang through the air, young woman and men locked in a dance of a battle. Asenath was able to knock one out of the fight, left to fight the remaining two as the man ran away in cowardice. Asenath used her old village to her advantage, unaware of the reinforcements headed their way. As the three broke away from a lock, a shout was heard. Hearing it, the slave traders tried to run, but were caught by what looked like guards from the Palace... Guards like her father had once been.... Two men other than the guards were with them. One of the men, Asenath easily recognized as one of the priests, brown hair hiding under the headpiece he wore, his eyes a dark shade of purple that looked nearly azure blue in the light of the setting sun.... Eyes that were full of rage as he looked toward the slave traders. The other, however.....

The first thing Asenath noticed was the fact that his amethyst eyes were on her as he dismounted from his horse. He was wearing clothing made of the finest fabrics, fabrics Asenath concluded that only someone in the Palace could afford. His hair, however, was what was the most unique about him. His hair was tri-colored, black at the base, a dark magenta along the edges and gold bangs, three gold streaks were visible in the center of his hair. He wore no jewelry, but the way he carried himself spoke of authority and grace. Out of respect for him coming to her aid, she knelt with her left foot forward. She heard him chuckle before hearing a shift in the sands. "You do not have to bow to me." She felt the warmth of his hand under her chin, bringing her gold flecked, dark hazel eyes to his own.

"Is it not right to show respect to someone who has come to my aid?" Asenath asked.

"Perhaps, but it is not required. Please, rise." His hand left her chin to take her hand, helping her stand. As he did, the young man's eyes fell upon the bruises that lingered along her arms. "Did those men do this?" He asked, anger rising to his eyes.

"No, no, they did not get close enough." Asenath answered. "Please, do not worry yourself, I am nothing but a servant... No one worth worrying over."

"You are to me, I... Look out!" The young man pushed her out of the way as a snake, a venomous cobra struck, biting the young man in the arm.

"No! Bennu, attack the snake!" Asenath cried, the phoenix obeying and clawing the snake within it's talons, burning it to ashes as Asenath rushed to the young man's side. "Are you all right?"

"Do not worry about me." He answered her.

"Do not move." Asenath replied, gently taking his arm and bringing it to her lips, beginning to suck the poison out.

"No, you need not do this!" The young man exclaimed in horror. Asenath turned her head to the side and spat out the venom she had collected thus far.

"You were bitten, and I am going to get the poison out. Please, allow me to do this. You helped me, now it is my turn to help you." Asenath replied before returning to suck the venom out. Once she no longer tasted the venom , she turned her head to the side once more and spat out the remaining venom, wiping her mouth as the priest joined them. She held out her arm without moving her gaze from the snake bite. Now that the poison was out, she could seal the wound. "Bennu, come." The phoenix flew down and perched on her arm as she covered the snake bite with both her hands. "Lend me strength once again, my friend." She murmured to it before breathing out and closing her eyes, focusing her energy. As the priest and the young man watched, a scarlet golden glow emitted from her hands, illuminating the darkness around them for a brief moment. Soon, it dimmed once more, and when Asenath removed her hands, the mark of the snake bite was gone. "Thank you, Bennu." Asenath told the phoenix, the little bird ruffling its feathers before giving a coo toward the young man and disappearing.

"Thank you." The young man told her. Asenath merely smiled in reply.

"As I said, it was the least I could do. You helped me after all, it was only right that I returned the favor." Asenath replied as she rose from the sands and remounted her horse. He remounted his own. The priest took this time to speak.

"We should be heading back to the Palace. Young one, we can escort you back home for your efforts." The priest offered.

"Oh, no, it is..."

"Please, it is the least I can do. You helped me, it is only right that I return the favor." The young man interrupted, with a slight smug smile in his face. A chuckle left Asenath as she shook her head.

"Well then, I suppose I have no choice but to accept." Asenath replied, making the young man chuckle before they rode back home. The young man rode his horse at a gallop beside Asenath, the guards and the priest keeping pace with them.

"My lady, what do they call you?" He asked. Asenath shook her head.

"Never mind what they call me. I must thank you again for your help... What do they call you?" Asenath asked.

"You do not know who I am?" Upon seeing Asenath's confused look, he corrected himself. "That is... They call me Atem, or rather my father does... When he's in a good mood." This earned a chuckle between the two.

"You live in the Palace?" Asenath asked.

"Yes, with my father. My father is currently teaching me his trade, you might say." Atem answered.

"So, you're an apprentice?" Asenath asked.

"Of a sort." Atem responded with a smile.

"That's wonderful... Do they treat you well?" Asenath asked.

"Probably better than I deserve. And you?" Atem asked. Asenath looked away.

"They treat me as well as they're able." She answered.

"I am sorry." Atem apologized. Asenath shook her head.

"It is not your doing." She replied.

"Nor yours either, I am willing to bet." Atem responded, trying to look at her. As they reentered the bazaar, they all slowed to a trot.

"It is not so horrible... Others have it worse, I am sure. We must simply have courage and be kind... Must we not?" Asenath asked.

"Yes... We must..." Atem replied as he gazed at her. "You are quite right, and that is exactly how I feel." The two shared a smile, Asenath and Atem both coming to a stop.

"I am afraid this is where we part." Asenath told him as she dismounted once more, gently patting Asim's side as she took the reigns and looked up at Atem. "Thank you again, for everything."

"It was no trouble." Atem replied before the priest began to speak again.

"Your Hi-"

"It's Atem! Atem, I am Atem!" Atem interrupted the priest. "I am on my way!" Atem's outburst had Asenath covering up a giggle.

"Well, we'd better get a move on... Atem." The priest replied.

"As I said, Mahad, on my way." Atem told him before returning his gaze to Asenath. "I hope to see you again, my lady."

"And I, you, Atem." Asenath replied. A smile graced Atem's face before he rejoined Mahad and the guards, Asenath bringing Asim to the stables.

A few days later, a royal proclamation was made. To celebrate the young prince coming of age, a ball was to be held in his honor, a ball to which all eligible young ladies were required to attend in a couple weeks. Upon hearing the news, Asenath's stepsisters celebrated the chance to make an impression upon the future Pharaoh, at the chance to become his wife... "Just imagine: One of us, a princess!" Maye squealed in excitement.

"The Pharaoh's proclamation also means you can go too, Asenath." Nenet added with a big smile, grasping her step sister's hands.

"I think not." Tiye interjected with a cold sneer.

"Just imagine: her, dancing with the Prince!" Maye scoffed. "I'd be honored, Your Highness... Would you mind holding my broom?" She laughed hysterically as she made fun of Asenath.

"Stupid, stupid, Asenath." Maye snickered.

"Complete all your chores and find something suitable to wear, then we'll talk." Tiye replied. "Now, come girls, we must go to the seamstress." For the next two weeks, Asenath completed every chore in record time, fixing her mother's old dress in order to make it suitable for the ball. On the day of the ball, after Asenath had finished preparing her stepsisters, she placed the finishing touches on her mother's gown. It took a bit to complete the rest of the work on the dress, but she soon completed it. It was a green dress, old fashioned in design, but it was ultimately the perfect choice for Asenath, her mother's old dress fitting her perfectly. As she presented herself to her step family, she found all eyes in the room on her. While Nenet looked happy, Maye and Tiye looked angry. "Asenath..."

"I swear, it cost you nothing, Step Mother. It was my mother's old dress, so I took it up myself once my tasks were complete." Asenath told her.

"Ooh, la. Asenath at the ball." Maye commented.

"What is wrong with that?" Nenet asked her sister.

"No one wants a servant girl for a bride." Maye told her.

"After all I have done for you...." Tiye trailed off angrily.

"I do not want to ruin anything at all! I do not even wish to meet the prince..."

"Oh, you certainly will not... Because there is no question in your going." Tiye replied quite bitterly.

"Mother..." Nenet said softly.

"But, every maiden in the land is to attend, by order of the Pharaoh."

"It is, the Pharaoh I am thinking of. It would be an insult to the royal personage to take you to the palace in these.... Old rags." Tiye commented, gesturing with a finger to the dress Asenath wore. A stunned look crossed Asenath's face.

"Rags? This was my mother's."

"I am sorry to have tell you, my dear, but... Your mother had questionable taste. This... thing is so old fashioned, it's practically falling to pieces." Tiye said as she neared Asenath before pulling part of the dress, ripping it. "The shoulder's frayed." She gasped. Much to Asenath and Nenet's horror, Maye joined Tiye in tearing the dress apart until it was nothing but rags.

"It is a pitiful, old fashioned joke." Maye commented with Tiye chuckling. Asenath looked at her stepmother with tears in her eyes.

"How could you?" Asenath asked.

"How could I otherwise? I will not have anyone associate my daughters with you. It would ruin their prospects to be seen arriving with a ragged servant girl, because that is what you are, and that is what you will always be. Now, mark my words: You shall not go to the ball." Tiye snarled. "Come, girls, we will be late." With that, she left in a huff, Maye right behind her. Nenet looked at Asenath with tears in her eyes.

"I am so sorry, Asenath." Nenet told her.

"It is no fault of yours, Nenet. Please, go enjoy yourself at the ball. You deserve it." Asenath told her.

"So do you." Nenet replied before leaving for the ball. Asenath left the house, going into the back to the gardens her father had planted years prior. She collapsed at the fountain, sobbing. She was tired of being mistreated, tired of being walked on...

"Mother, Father, what do I do now?" Asenath sobbed. She wished she could have one last moment with her parents, one last moment of happiness...

"Excuse me, dear child..." Asenath's head was brought up at the deep voice to see an old man. He was frail, and despite Asenath's own sorrow, she wiped her tears and turned her attention to him.

"How can I help you, good sir?" Asenath asked.

"Water... Please..." The old man begged.

"Of course. Come and rest your weary heart." Asenath invited.

"Oh, thank you, my dear." The old man told her as she came to his side and helped him to one of the stone benches. "Thank you very much indeed." Once he was seated, she picked up one of the bowls, wiping more stray tears away. Despite her best hopes to have hidden it from the old man, he noticed anyway. "Why are you crying, my dear?"

"I-It is nothing, you need not worry." Asenath answered, her back to him as she filled the bowl with fresh cold water.

"Nothing.... What is a bowl of cold water? Nothing...." The old man rattled on as she brought the bowl to him. "But kindness, my dear... Kindess makes it everything." He raised the bowl slightly in a toast before drinking all of it. "Now, Asenath, I am afraid we do not have much time if you are to go to the ball." The old man added as he stood up. Asenath's eyebrows went upward.

"How do you know my name?" Asenath asked. The old man merely chuckled.

"Now, who do you think blessed you with that little Phoenix ka? I've been watching over you since the day you were born, my child. Besides, how would I be the God of Creation if I knew not the names of all of my creations?" The old man spoke before smiling at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Allow me to slip into something more comfortable. Slifer, Obelisk, come!" The old man stood straight up, throwing a diadhank into the air as a golden light swirled around him. Asenath watched as the diadhank extended before a man's arm emerged from the light, the diadhank latching onto it as the light dispersed, revealing a man dressed in gold armor. He looked to be around his early 30s, with gold hair and red eyes, a diadem with a lapis lazuli jewel in the center of his forehead. Blinking, Asenath dropped into a bow, her left foot forward. She heard him chuckle before he felt a familiar warmth on her shoulder. "Now, now, there is no need or time for that. There is work to be done." Ra told her as he helped her rise. "Speaking of which, my brothers should be here as well.... Late as usual... Slifer, Obelisk, come forth at once!"

"Geeze, we heard you the first time, old man!" Asenath jumped as two more men appeared beside Ra. One was dressed in red armor, with red hair and blue eyes, while the other was dressed in blue armor with blue hair and red eyes.

"Do not call me an old man! I am only 30 years old!" Ra shouted.

"Yeah, you are 30 all right... 30 centuries old!" The man in red armor argued back.

"Ra, Slifer, may I remind you that we are here to assist Asenath?" The man in blue armor reminded them, placing a hand on Asenath's shoulder as he effectively cut off the argument all together. Ra cleared his throat.

"My apologies. Slifer, you create a transport for her, I will remake her dress." Ra ordered.

"As you wish... Your Geezerness." Slifer replied. Before Ra could even think about getting back at Slifer for the comment, Slifer had disappeared.

"Surely we are not sending her to the ball alone, are we?" Obelisk asked, his brow furrowed.

"Of course not. That is why you are going to escort her." Ra answered. Obelisk looked in shock.

"Me? Why? Have you something better to do, Your Excellency?" Obelisk asked. "Why can't you or Slifer do it?"

"Listen, Slifer won't keep an eye on her, he would be too busy flirting all night. If I go, my weakness for wine would leave her wide open. You are the most responsible of us all, Obelisk." Ra answered. Obelisk glanced at Asenath before sighing.

"Fine, I'll escort her." Obelisk replied, sounding defeated.

"Wonderful! Now, Asenath, let us change up this ragged dress." Ra told Asenath as he led her to a private spot.

"Can you not mend it?" Asenath asked.

"No, no, I shall turn it into something new." Ra answered.

"No, please. This was my mother's dress, you see... If I wear it to the ball... It would feel like a piece of her is going with me." Asenath pleaded. Ra's eyes softened.

"Of course. Do you think she would mind if I changed it a little?" Ra asked. Asenath smiled softly as she shook her head in response. With a smile, Ra closed his eyes, his hands glowing gold before he willed the magic to swirl around Asenath. Asenath looked down at the golden glow as it transformed her mother's dress into a beautiful gown, made especially for her, though it felt like her mother was still with her (A/N: pictured below).

She felt her hair be braided and pinned back, a bronze crown adorning her head (A/N: hair and crown pictured below)

Ra smiled once the transformation was complete, Obelisk joining them in that moment. "Heavens above...." Obelisk commented. Asenath blushed.

"Does it look all right?" Asenath asked.

"More than all right, you look beautiful!" Obelisk exclaimed, making a smile come to Asenath's face along with a blush. "Not even the prince himself will be able to look away from you." Ra looked proud of himself, but before he could voice his thoughts, Slifer joined them. He grinned and bowed to Asenath.

"A lovely vision, milday. Your chariot awaits." Slifer told her. Asenath bowed to both Ra and Slifer.

"Thank you both." She told them.

"Go on, have fun." Ra encouraged her. Obelisk was surrounded in a blue light, dressed as a nobleman. Asenath noticed, having to hold back tears, that the appearance he had chosen was remarkably similar to her father. He offered his arm.

"Come, my dear." He told her. She placed her arm over his, her hand draping over his own, and they began to walk. Slifer opened the door of the chariot before Obelisk and Ra assisted her inside. As Slifer closed the door, Ra turned to Asenath.

"Remember, child, with the moon's midnight light, the spell will be broken, and everything will be as it was before." Ra warned her.

"Ra... What about my stepmother and the girls?" Asenath asked. Ra smiled.

"Don't worry. The dress I made comes with a spell that prevents them from recognizing you." Ra answered. "Obelisk, protect the child. No harm must come to her."

"How stupid do you think I am? I know what being her escort means." Obelisk retorted, making Asenath giggle. With a last farewell, Obelisk and Asenath were on their way.

The Palace was grander than Asenath could have imagined it. It made her nervous. When the chariot finally came to a stop, Obelisk, or rather, Rashid as he had told her to call him, stepped out before extending a hand to Asenath. Asenath placed her hand in his before he helped her down from the chariot. Noticing Asenath's nervous state, he bent to her ear. "Be calm, child. I will allow no harm to come to you. The only job you have is enjoy this night." His words soothed her, and she gave him a grateful smile before he escorted her in. They were later than the other guests, but Rashid couldn't help but crack a grin at how in awe of the Palace Asenath seemed to be. He chuckled as they entered the ballroom, Rashid entering first and stepping to the side while bowing a bit to her. Asenath cautiously entered the room, finding all eyes on her. She blushed under the attention, not used to it. Whispers arose from the people around them, mainly questions as to who the young girl before them even was before all of the whispers died out, a sound silencing them all.

Footsteps soon echoed through the quiet room, the crowd making way as a young man walked toward Asenath. He was dressed in the finest of clothes, a purple cape at his back, and yet, he bowed low to the ground when he was right in front of her. Asenath returned the bow, recognizing the young man who had escorted her home after she had healed him, though the look on Rashid's face told her that he was more important to the kingdom than a mere apprentice. His hair was tricolored, black at the base, a dark magenta around the edges and gold bangs with 3 gold streaks standing up. When they both looked up, Asenath found her gold flecked hazel eyes locked in the gaze of a familiar pair of amethyst eyes. (A/N: Sorry to interrupt! But the fanart I used for Atem, I do not own! If u know the original artist, pleeeeease dm me!)

As easy smile spread across both faces. "It's you..." Atem trailed off in awe, Asenath merely smiling at him in reply before he continued. "My lady," When he spoke, his voice was deep, reminding Asenath of the power and authority he possessed as the Crown Prince of Egypt, but his tone was kind, just as it had been the day they first met. "If it pleases you, will you join me in this, the first dance of the night?" He asked. Asenath nodded once.

"It would an honor and a pleasure." She answered. Atem before her smiled before offering his hand. Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his, feeling a familiar surge of power run through her upon the touch of his skin upon her own. Rashid straightened, having felt it as well. What had Ra done? Had his brother known that the man that now held Asenath was her soulmate?

As the two stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, the young man kept one of her hands in his while the other wrapped around her waist. As the ballroom filled with music, the two began to dance, unaware of the audience that was watching them. Included among them was Rashid and the Pharaoh himself, along with his council. Asenath didn't know why, but she felt safe in the young man's arms.... The two never looked away from each other, lost in each other's gaze. Asenath noticed the number of eyes that were on them. "They are all looking at you." Asenath whispered.

"Believe me, my lady, it is you they are gazing upon." Atem whispered back to her. The two danced together with the crowd watching them. As the music faded into a different song, Atem clasped both of Asenath's hands, coming to a stop in the middle of the dancefloor. "Come with me." He whispered to her before letting go of one of her hands to lead her out of the ballroom. Asenath glanced back at Rashid as she followed Atem. Rashid nodded once, silently confirming that it was indeed someone she could trust.

"So, you are the Prince." Asenath commented as she followed him. Atem chuckled, letting go if her hands to shut the doors behind them.

"I am merely a Prince, there are many other princes in the world."

"But... Your name is not really Atem... Is it?" Asenath asked.

"Sadly, it is, and my father still calls me that when he is especially unpeeved at me."

"But, you are no apprentice."

"I am technically... An apprentice monarch, I still am learning my trade, after all." Atem commented, which made Asenath laugh.

"Oh, gosh." Asenath commented as she continued to walk. Atem walked beside her.

"Please, forgive me, I thought you might treat me differently if you knew. I mistook you for a good, honest country girl, and now I see you did not want to... Overawe a plain soldier." Atem commented, walking ahead of her.

"Little chance of that happening." Asenath giggled. Atem stopped in place and turned to her, extending his hand for hers.

"No more surprises?" He asked as if making a deal with her. Asenath smiled and walked toward him, taking his hand.

"No more surprises." She agreed. He smiled and continued to lead her out of the Palace, ending up on a path in the courtyard. "They will miss you at the ball, will they not?" She asked.

"Perhaps, but let us not go back just yet..." Atem told her. Seeing the look on his face, she spoke up.

"What is it?" Asenath asked, her worry for him showing. Atem sighed.

"When I go back, they will try to pair me up with a lady of their choosing. I am expected to marry for advantage." Atem answered.

"Oh... Well, for whose advantage?"

"That, is a very good question." The two chuckled before they stopped, Asenath looking up at him.

"Surely, you have a right to your own heart." She told him.

"And I must weigh that against the Pharaoh's wishes. He is a wise ruler... and a loving father."

"Perhaps, he will change his mind." Asenath replied.

"I fear he does not have much time to do so." Atem answered, Asenath's eyes softening with empathy.

"I am sorry." He shook his head.

"It is all right." He smiled. "Though, I am quite curious as to know how a beautiful princess such as yourself learned to wield magic and a spear with such grace and mastery." A sad smile crossed Asenath's face.

"My own father taught me how to fight, my Prince." Asenath told him, looking away to hide the sadness that had crossed her face in that moment. She felt Atem squeeze her hand in gentle comfort.

"I would say you learned well, and to you, it is just Atem." Asenath blushed, Atem smiling with a chuckle before he led her to a garden of some kind, her hand still in his. She looked around the garden. Palm trees stood high above them, all kinds of flowers in full bloom... Asenath even recognized a moon flower.

"It's beautiful." She breathed.

"My mother used to love it here... But, since she passed, my father could not bring himself to visit the gardens." He responded, and Asenath could hear the sadness in his voice. She looked down.

"My own mother is in the Afterlife as well, along with my father..." She replied, her voice betraying her own sadness before she looked up at him again. "Do you think they know each other?" This brought a small smile to the young man's face, as well as a small chuckle past his lips.

"I believe they might. I certainly do not see why they could not." He answered.

"I would like to think that legends about the Afterlife being open to everyone, rich and poor, are true... Just like the ball was tonight." Asenath replied.

"In truth, the ball was only open to everyone because of you." Atem told her, his words bringing Asenath to a halt, the young man standing before her. "I made sure everyone could come because I had hoped to see you again." He confessed. Asenath smiled up at him.

"And I came to see Atem." Asenath replied.

"Not the prince?" Atem asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Asenath shook her head in reply.

"The prince is far too grand... What could I ever mean to him anyway?" Asenath asked, beginning to continue walking when she felt Atem take her hand, making her stop and face him. This time, however, he interlaced their fingers, a look of seriousness in his eyes.

"A lot more than you could ever know." He murmured, though Asenath heard his words. Atem's free hand came up, gently tucking some stray hairs behind her ear before his hand gently cupped her cheek. Asenath leaned her head into his touch, closing her eyes for a brief moment. When she reopened her eyes, she blushed upon finding Atem gazing at her, a very adoring look in his eyes. He drew slightly closer to her, his thumb caressing her cheek. "May I kiss you?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Asenath blushed darker with his words, but nodded all the same. Atem wrapped his free arm around her as he leaned down, both pairs of eyes closing before Asenath felt the warmth of his lips against her own. Asenath kissed him back, feeling Atem pull her closer to him. In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck, causing him to hold her closer in his embrace. When he finally pulled away, it was slow, as if that first kiss would be the last. He rested his forehead on her own, both pairs of eyes remaining closed. "That was..."

"Wonderful." Asenath finished as they both opened their eyes and exchanged smiles. They pressed their foreheads together, unaware that they were being watched by a friend of Atem's. Atem took her hands again, leading her down another path.

"I have never shown this place to anyone before." Atem told her before opening a wooden door that creaked slightly as out swung open. A gasp of awe left Asenath as Atem led her through the wooden door.

"A secret garden!" She breathed. Bushes of flowers were everywhere, a tall tree standing proudly in a small corner. Atem smiled as he watched her look around the secret garden, in awe of everything she was seeing. Asenath looked back at him. "I love it." She smiled, causing Atem to smile back.

"I'm glad you like it." Atem told her as he walked toward her again, picking a lotus flower and placing it in her hair as she giggled. Asenath closed her eyes as his warm, gentle touch once again came to her face. But, just as their lips went to touch once more, a rush of pain caused Asenath to move back a few steps. The magic is fading.... She thought. Atem's brow furrowed in worry as he stepped toward her, gently taking her arms.

"Are you all right?" Atem asked. Asenath looked up at him.

"I have to go... I am sorry." Asenath slipped from Atem's hold as she hurried to the gate of the secret garden before stopping, turning back around to face Atem. "Thank you, Atem. You have been wonderfully kind to me, and tonight had been fun. I truly loved it... Every second." She thanked him before running back through the Palace, retracing her steps. Despite the feeling of shock he felt at her running off, Atem chased after the girl. He had finally found the woman of his dreams... He'd have to be a fool to let her go that easily...

In no time at all, she reached Rashid, who caught her arms. "What is wrong?" He asked her.

"The magic is fading, I can feel it. We do not have much time left." Asenath answered. Without another word, Rashid wrapped a protecting arm around her and began to escort her out of the palace. "Keep running and don't turn back, I'll get the chariot!" Rashid told her as they were about to reach the main doors, running faster and heading out the doors. Atem followed his true love through the palace and down the palace steps, watching as one of Asenath's slippers slipped off her foot. Asenath turned back around to grab it, but Rashid had arrived with the carriage, his shout preventing her from grabbing it.

"Leave it, there is no time!" Rashid warned Asenath before he helped her into the chariot and held on as the chariot took off. Atem stopped on the steps and knelt to pick up the slipper, watching as the chariot that carried the woman he fell in love with disappeared into the night. The priest, Mahad, and Atem's childhood friend, Mana soon joined him, Mahad ordering some of the guards to search for her. Mana stood beside Atem with her hands on her hips.

"Out of all the girls in that ballroom, and you just had to choose her." Mana stated with an eyebrow raised. Atem smiled as he remembered the kiss he and Asenath had shared.

"Yes, I did." He answered before his eye caught something glittering gold in the moonlight. He bent and picked it up, only to find the scarab necklace the girl had been wearing both when he first met her as well as that night. His thumb smoothed over it. "I will find you again, my love... Even if it will be the last thing I ever do." He swore to himself, looking up at the stars as he prayed to the gods to keep his future bride safe until he could find her.

Meanwhile, just as Asenath neared her home, everything touched by the gods' magic went back to what it was before, including Asenath's gown, and Obelisk reappearing as a man in blue armor. It was then that Asenath realized the scarab necklace was missing. She looked around in a frantic panic before feeling the lotus flower still in her hair. She took it out and held it, praying that Atem was keeping the necklace safe for her. Obelisk dusted himself off before noticing the smile that graced Asenath's face as she held a Lotus flower in her hand. "I take it you had a fun time?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, a smile gracing his features. Asenath nodded, smiling up at him.

"It was so much more than I could have ever hoped for. Thank you... Will you thank Ra and Slifer for me as well?" Asenath asked in response. Obelisk smiled back and nodded.

"I shall." Obelisk promised, watching Asenath retreat inside the house before he disappeared into the night, rejoining his brothers. The next morning, the old Pharaoh passed away with his son beside him. When it was announced throughout the kingdom, Asenath's heart broke for Atem, knowing the pain he was suffering through.

When the time for mourning had passed, it was announced that the new Pharaoh declared his love for the young woman he was with at the ball. It was decreed that the kingdom be searched for her using the slipper she had left behind. If found, she would be brought to the Palace and if she would have him, he would marry her. The news came as a surprise to Asenath, but it was proof to her that he cared for her as much as she cared for him. She hurried back home to prepare, but found her stepmother awaiting her in her room, holding the slipper that had been left to her by the gods. "This must have quite a story behind it... Care to tell me?" Tiye asked her. Asenath remained where she was, her eyes remaining on her stepmother in that moment. "No? Then you will answer my questions. Did you steal it?" Asenath shook her head.

"It was given to me."

"Given to you?" Tiye scoffed. "Nothing is ever given, for everything we must pay and pay..."

"That is not true. Kindness is free, love is free..."

"Love is not free, do not be naive. Now, here is how you will pay me... If you are to have what you desire. No one will believe you, a dirty servant girl without a family, if you lay claim to the Prince's heart. But, with a respectable gentlewoman to put you forward, you will not be ignored. When you are married, you will make me head of the royal household. Maye and Nenet we will pair off with wealthy lords, and I shall manage that... boy." Tiye's last words brought a flare of anger to Asenath.

"He is not a boy." She told her stepmother. Her stepmother glared at her, unaware that Nenet was on the other side of the door, able to hear her mother's every word.

"And who are you? How would you rule a kingdom? Best to leave it to me, that way we all get what we want." Tiye told her before turning to leave the room, believing she had trapped Asenath into agreeing. Asenath's mind raced, tears forming in her eyes before a determined look crossed her face. She couldn't allow her stepmother to even have the chance to control Atem. She loved him too much for that...

"No." Asenath definently answered, making Tiye stop in her tracks. Tiye slowly turned around, her anger rising.

"No?" Tiye asked. Through a shaking breath, Asenath continued.

"I failed to protect my beloved father from you, but I will protect the Prince and the kingdom, from you... No matter what will become of me." Asenath vowed as tears fell down her face.

"Well... That is a mistake!" Tiye shouted before swinging open the door and looking at Asenath. "It is time your defiant tongue is silenced, Asenath!" Leaving the room, Tiye slammed the door shut despite Asenath's best attempts to stop her, and locked it behind her. Tiye ignored the screams and shouts of her stepdaughter, unknowing that her own daughter had witnessed everything. Nenet's own emerald eyes filled with tears, looking at the door of her stepsister's room. She had to do something.... She had to... But, she couldn't free Asenath without the key from her mother...

Over the next couple days, a battalion of guards and three priests searched the kingdom far and wide to find the young woman. But, no matter how many girls they tried the slipper on, the slipper's magic prevented anyone but its true owner from fitting it... No matter how eligible..... Before long, the time came for Tiye's daughters to be tried, being the last girls in the kingdom to try on the slipper. Locked in her room, Asenath didn't know who had come, nor did she care. She closed her eyes as she fondly remembered the ball, and the kiss Atem had given her. She knew that eventually, the moments with Atem at the ball would fade to memory, just as the moments of her parents and her childhood. Nenet was the first to be tried, and the second the slipper was found not to fit, Maye shoved her out of the way to try on the slipper. After several failed attempts, she too, couldn't make the slipper fit. The younger of the priests, a young man with striking blue eyes, turned to Tiye. "Madam, is there no other girl we may try?" He asked.

"No one else, my lord." Tiye answered, lying through her teeth. Nenet noticed this, and it certainly didn't go unnoticed by one of the priests either, something around his neck giving off a golden glow.

"Seto, I sense she is lying." Mahad brought up to the younger priest.

"Nonsense. I sense no ill intent from this woman." The other priest spoke, an adviser to the old Pharaoh. As the men argued, Nenet knew what she had to do. Closing her eyes, Nenet spoke up.

"My mother is indeed lying to you, my lords." Nenet told them, making the argument come to a halt and Tiye to look at her with a piercing look.

"Nenet, I suggest you watch your tongue..."

"Enough, Mother!" Nenet's emerald eyes snapped open, glaring at her own mother. "I am sick and tired of your lies, and it is about time someone in this family stood up for her because she has done everything she could for everyone else. She deserves the chance at a better life, you have done nothing but be cruel to her since you first married Osiris, may the gods allow him eternal peace and rest!" Suprised by her own daughter's outburst, Tiye stood still in shock.

"Who is this other girl you speak of?" Mahad asked. Nenet bowed her head.

"My stepsister, my lord. My mother married her father a few years ago. He died 2 years ago protecting our Pharaoh, and my mother and sister have been cruel to his daughter ever since." Nenet answered.

"Where is she?" Seto asked.

"My mother locked her away in her room." Nenet answered. Tiye glared at her own daughter's betrayal.

"Madam, you will open that door and allow the girl to try on the slipper, or you will be tried for treason." A hooded figure interrupted Tiye. Tiye turned to the hooded figure in rage.

"How dare you give orders to me! Who do you think..." Tiye was cut short when the hooded figure revealed himself to be the young Pharaoh, Atem. With a pale face, Tiye dropped low to the ground with her left foot forward, her daughters following her example. Atem looked at Nenet.

"I can see it took great courage for you to speak up. You will be rewarded for your honesty." Atem told Nenet. "What is your name?"

"My name is Nenet, Your Majesty, and I seek no reward but to see my stepsister happy once again." Nenet answered. Atem smiled at her before turning to Tiye with a stern expression.

"Now, I command that you unlock the room at once." He commanded.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Tiye responded.

"Mahad, will you investigate?" Atem murmured.

"It shall be my pleasure, my Pharaoh." Mahad replied before following Tiye to Asenath's room.

When the door was unlocked and opened, Asenath stood, watching as the priest from when she had first met Atem entered the room behind her stepmother. "There! You see, I told you, it is no one of any importance!" Tiye exclaimed.

"We shall see about that." Mahad told her before bowing his head in respect to Asenath, gaining a respectful bow in return. "Miss, you are requested and required to present yourself to the Prince." Tiye rushed forward.

"I forbid you to do this."

"And I forbid you to forbid her. Who are you to stop a Priest in the Pharaoh's court? Are you an empress? A saint? A deity?" Mahad asked. Tiye looked at Asenath.

"I am her mother." She lied once again.

"You never have been, nor ever will be, my mother." Asenath told her stepmother. Mahad's gaze shifted from Tiye to Asenath.

"Come now, miss." Mahad told her before turning to leave the room, unknowing of Tiye harshly grabbing Asenath by the arm, making her stop for a brief moment.

"Just remember who you are, you wretch." Tiye snarled in her ear before letting Asenath go, the younger woman behind her stepmother as they walked back into the main room. Asenath was uncertain of how Atem would react to seeing her as nothing but a common girl, but the words her father had once told her rang in her mind once more, drowning out her stepmother's words and renewing her courage. She entered the room Mahad had gestured for her to go in, seeing Atem turn around the same moment she entered the room. For the third time, their eyes once again met. A smile spread across Atem's face as he recognized the face of his true love, of his princess.... His smile caused Asenath to smile back as she bowed to him.

"Who are you?" He asked, knowing that this time, he would finally know the name of his true love.

"I am Asenath. My Pharaoh, I am no princess... I have no carriage, no parents, no dowry, I do not even know if that beautiful slipper will fit... But, if it does, will you take me as I am? An honest country girl who loves you?" She asked. Atem smiled.

"Of course, I will... But only if you will take me as I am... An apprentice still learning his trade." Atem answered, the smile never wavering from his face. Asenath smiled back, fighting back the happy tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Atem stepped to her, gently wiping away a tear that had escaped her eye as Mahad and Seto watched. Once she was seated, he knelt in front of her and placed the slipper on her foot... It was a perfect fit. He took both of her hands and helped her stand. Atem smiled down at Asenath before holding up the scarab necklace. Asenath gasped when she saw it.

"You kept it safe for me." She stated as she looked up at him before lifting up her hair as Atem returned it to her neck.

"Of course, my love." Atem replied before holding out his arm for her to take. "Shall we?" She smiled and with a nod, left her childhood home behind.

Within days, due to wedding preparations needing to be complete, Atem and Asenath were married. Together, they accomplished great things until the day they paid the ultamite sacrifice for their country, leaving a brave and powerful princess in their place to carry on their legacy....

But that, my readers, is another story ;)

5000 Years Later....

"All right, class, settle down. We have a new student today." The teacher told the class, having to shout over the students talking. Yugi smiled a bit as he glanced at Joey and Tristan talking excitedly, Tèa rolling her eyes at the two's antics. Next to him in spirit form was the Nameless Pharaoh, the spirit of the Millennium Puzzle who he had named Yami. Yami chuckled as he watched his modern day friends before a sudden hush fell over the room. Yami watched, stunned and frozen in place, as a young girl with gold flecked hazel eyes and dark auburn hair entered the room. As she introduced herself, Yami noticed the spirit beside her... Why did the spirit look so familiar?

In spirit form, Asenath looked around her host's new classroom, trying to calm the girl's nerves through the mind link. 5000 years in locked away in her Millennium Item meant that her memories of her past other than her name were erased, and it was something her sweet hikari, Yuka, was trying to help her uncover. However, she stopped looking around the room when she spotted a pair of amethyst eyes that seemed familiar to her. Why did he look so familiar? The two, however, couldn't deny the strong connection they felt. While they didn't know who they were to each other in the past, they knew one thing.....

They wouldn't have to uncover their past alone anymore....

(A/N: That's it for this one! XD would have been longer, but, I've hit the max limit! Like, reblog and comment down below if you would want a continuation of Atem and Asenath's days as Pharaoh and Queen. A big big thank you to @vivinightingale for helping me edit and write this story ^.^)

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green-eyed-whumpster · 4 years

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My OC Universe: Rowan 56

Chapter 56 Summary: Jordan finds her inspiration and manages to write a much longer chapter!! Yay! Rowan and William suffer through their first night as prisoners and are visited the next morning by their captors. (Taggalicious: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long and @sky-or-something-idfk)

Trigger Warnings: Verbal abuse, physical abuse, threatening death, reference to abortion (Ooh, what a strange warning! I wonder what the context is??? [sorry I’m in a weird mood today] )

It wasn’t surprising that William was gagged. It was surprising it didn’t happen sooner. But it wasn’t surprising that it happened.

He screamed like a banshee as they shoved the rag in his mouth. He tried to kick at them, but one stood on his legs as the other forced his head back and tied a cloth around his head, trapping the lump in his mouth. “Will he not choke?” Rowan asked as they released him, and they turned to look at him, almost as though they had forgotten that he was there. “Not if he stays quiet.” One answered, and they left, not bothering to lock the door behind them, Rowan and the King weren’t going anywhere.

At least with William silenced, Rowan could try and sleep. Gods knew he had tried to sleep in far worse places. Here he was dry, and as long as there were no surprise visits from malicious soldiers, he would be safe. Every once in a while, there would be a lurch, or a scramble of William fighting against the chains, but it never ended up going anywhere, and there would be an infuriated grunt, and then another period of silence.

Rowan was actually surprised to realise that he had fallen asleep, after being woken by the sound of footsteps and a scraping of metal along the stone. His eyes darted about the room, blinking in a hurried effort to clear them before the attacker grew closer, and accidentally locked them with William’s. He was disturbed to find them red and bleary, so even in their current scowl Rowan could tell he had been crying. It’s not his fault. He’s clueless. This is probably the first time he’s ever been under threat. The first time he wasn’t in power. He isn’t as used to it as I am. “It will be all right,” He whispered, nodding softly to the man. He was rewarded for his effort with a muffled hiss and the man lunging towards him, stopped by the rattle of chains. “I know I’ve called you a savage, but you really are coming into the role.” Rowan turned as Marie entered, followed by a smirking Alexander, and finally, Cordelia. “Take the gag off him.” She smirked. “I want to hear him scream.” “I’ll do it.” Cordelia said sternly, keeping her head angled deliberately away from Rowan. He desperately tried to catch her eye as she walked forward and pulled the cloth around William’s mouth down, forcing her thumb into his mouth to prevent him trying to bite down on her as she pulled out the wad of rags.

He settled his mouth for a moment before spitting at Cordelia. Rowan could see her shoulders slump slightly as if she were rolling her eyes and without hesitating she backhanded William, stepping back to Marie as the man gasped in shock, turning his enraged glare to her. “How-how dare you strike me?” He roared, restrained hands fighting even harder. “I am the King!” Rowan could see the tears of shame welling in his eyes as his cheeks reddened and felt a deep sense of discomfort. “Oh, haven’t you heard?” Marie asked in mock-innocence. “The King went out hunting yesterday and went missing, soon after his consort and their personal bodyguard disappeared. The soldiers are out, scouring the lands for wherever our beloved monarch is, and presumably, where his murderers are hiding.” Rowan’s face fell as he realised the implication and was reminded of what happened to Oliver. “But-but I’m right here! What about Oliver? What happened to him?” He exclaimed, tears of his own springing to his eyes. “Hmm, it’s very rare that you speak out of turn.” Marie sighed and glanced at Cordelia, giving her a silent order. “Such a pathetic creature,” She said finally, voice unwavering. “The only two people he interacts with are his guard and his master. I don’t blame him for asking.” Marie looked at Rowan and sighed softly. “What absolute bullshit!” William roared. “My soldiers will not let some little cock-tease steal the throne from me!” Alexander stepped forward without hesitation and struck the man himself, the heavy crack echoing in the cell as cartilage shattered under the blow. William was so preoccupied for a moment with the pain and the fresh blood racing down his face that Marie could focus on the consort for a moment longer. “He’s behaved so well, I don’t feel it’s really necessary to have him kept quiet,” Her voice was far softer than Rowan could have believed, and he looked at her hopefully. “But I can’t have his master thinking it’s all right to shoot his mouth off excessively.” Cordelia nodded in resignation and stepped towards Rowan, he saw the regret in her eyes as she tipped his head back and slapped him, too. His cheek only stung for a moment, a dull throb numbing his nerves as she stepped back. “But…” He paused as the movement immediately reminded him of the punishment he had been given for speaking last time. But there wasn’t another instant blow, so he continued.

“But because I’ve been behaving, wouldn’t it make sense that I be allowed what he isn’t? So, maybe, he’ll stop causing quite so much trouble.” He waited for another look to be shared between the women and for his former friend to strike him again. So, he was startled when suddenly laughter reverberated from the walls, coming from Marie. “Oh, you’re such a clever little rat, aren’t you?” She grinned, catching his eye no matter how hard he tried to look away. “I’d admire your survival instincts if they didn’t disgust me so,” He flushed deeply under her words, feeling William’s glare on him. “If you think for one second that I’ll allow you to treat that whore any better than me –“

Cordelia appeared to be fed up with William and so before he could even finish his threat she had struck him again. The exasperated look on her face resembling one a parent might have when their child was misbehaving. This only entertained Marie even more. “Ha, ha! Well, I suppose, since you do make a good point, you can ask…three questions.” Rowan glanced at her uncomfortably and swallowed, nervous now that he had been granted some semblance of freedom. “I-wh-why are you doing this? What’s going on?” He stuttered, and she smirked merrily. She quite enjoyed being in a position of power. Especially over her disgusting husband and his timid little lover. “I’ll only count that as one question since they are both incredibly similar.” She granted and he bowed his head nervously. “Th-thank you.” “It’s a coup. We’re kicking the old King off the throne before he ruins the country any more than he already has. I organised a group of soldiers and servants that I could trust and arranged for his hunting trip to be sabotaged. He was smuggled back to the castle, into the dungeon and guarded by men on my side.” It sounded so wonderfully simple when she explained it like that. As though she were discussing a party or the arrangement of some renovations. “I swear I will wring your neck the moment I get out of these chains!” William snarled, and she turned an amused look to him. “Then I suppose you won’t be released from the chains any time soon.” “Why now?” Rowan asked, hoping to interrupt any more attempts at arguing. William seemed just as curious as Rowan was so at least he stayed relatively quiet as Marie spoke. “Now was the best time.” Marie answered sombrely as she rested a hand over her stomach, and Rowan’s eyes flicked to Alexander as he stepped closer to his mother. He looked…unhappy. Turning his gaze to Cordelia, Rowan realised her face had softened, also. “You’re pregnant?” He asked, on a whim, remembering how her hand rested there when she cornered him, and he turned her down. As if she were protecting something. Rowan had learnt when he was young that potential mothers usually guarded their stomachs at any threat of danger. Marie scoffed gently and shook her head in defeat. “I don’t believe I give you enough credit, consort,” She sighed, purposefully moving her hand away from her bodice. “I’m honestly quite surprised at how resourceful you are. If only you were on my side.” William’s jaw fell open and he stared, dumbfounded, at Marie. Temporarily silenced. “I can have children?” He asked after a moment. The only words not raised and dripping with contempt that he had spoken while imprisoned. “Well, you can’t kill me, now! Who will be the child’s father?” Marie snorted and shook her head again, this time with disdain. “You think I would let your poisoned bloodline continue?” She asked, scowling at the prisoner. “I don’t want any reminder of you to exist once I’ve taken power! This creature will be chosen as the rightful heir and Alexander will be swept aside! So, what? We can have another failure of a leader with your family’s ancestry flowing through their veins? Never. The child will be gone before it even draws breath.” The way she spoke indicated that she was just as upset with the idea as William was. “You can’t do that!” He yelled. “You can’t kill my child! My blood! You, selfish bitch! You only think about your son and nothing more –“ “This child would have been mine, too!” She interrupted angrily. “It brings me no joy to murder the creature, but I will not have any supporters of you rip apart everything I have worked for!” “How do you know it isn’t Jonathan’s?” Rowan asked before thinking. “Because,” She said, sniffing gently. “Jonathan is sterile.” “I-I was under the impression that William was, too,” He continued softly, flinching as Marie laughed. “William still has his balls.” She stated bluntly. “Jonathan, when he first became my lover, also became a eunuch. My previous husband was far more thorough than William.” That’s a pretty strong reason. “William’s supposed sterility is through pure genetic weakness. Somehow, he seems to have combated that.” William groaned and rolled his eyes. “To think I wasted my seed on your pathetic hole!” He snarled at Rowan who sighed softly. “It doesn’t matter.” Marie shrugged. “Any potential heirs of yours will be gone by next week.” Rowan swallowed the urge to comfort her. He doubted she would want his sympathy. “What’s your last question?” Marie asked, startling Rowan, he thought she would have counted the one about Jonathan. “He’s had three.” Alexander said, clearly thinking the same thing. “I’m not counting it,” Marie replied, smoothing her dress. “It clearly wasn’t something important in his mind.” Rowan dipped his head slightly and swallowed. “Um-thank you,” He muttered and glanced across to where William was sitting. “What-what are you going to do with us?” He finally asked, hazarding a look up. “I thought that might have been it,” She muttered and sighed. “We can’t kill you, yet. My power isn’t solidified yet, and should someone find your bodies everything has been for nothing. So, for the foreseeable future you’re going to be kept down here.” She said before looking at Cordelia. “Until we come across a convenient time and method for disposing with you.”

#whump #medieval whump #my writing #oc #Rowan #William #Marie #Cordelia #physical abuse #verbal abuse #abortion

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kuriquinn · 5 years

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Inquiring Minds Want To Know [one-shot]

Blanket Fic Disclaimer

Original Prompt by: Anonymous

" you know how men rate girls on the scale of their hotness? And that girls do the same? But the difference is that men are scaled not on their hotness, but on the size of their penis" I read this line somewhere and was hoping if you can make a fic related to it? Cause that would be awesome 😂😂”

Author’s Note: As promised during Evil Author Day, my goal is to actually finish some of my WIPs this year. So, here’s one that a lot of people have been asking about.

Warning: Total crack. Like seriously. It’s going into the Poor Judgement ‘verse along with the other ridiculous stuff I come up with.

Beta Reader: *None but me and my editing software :)

Read it on Ao3 if you’re a registered user!

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“And, it’s official!” Sakura declares, pouring the last bit of sake into her cup before raising it in front of her. “The Fourth Annual Sexy Wives of Konoha Summit is now in session. Kanpai!”

The rest of the women in the back booth of the izakaya raise their own porcelain cups and chorus, “Kanpai!” before tipping back the alcohol.

“Can I just say, I think our summit is a lot more fun than the Kage summit?” Tenten suggests.

“Definitely,” Temari agrees. “More alcohol, which I’m in favor of.”

“And we probably have more interesting stuff to talk about,” Karui decides.

“Does anyone actually know what they’re talking about?” Ino wants to know.

“Something about tariffs,” Hinata replies. “Or…sheep, I think. Maybe both.”

“Or aliens,” Sakura submits.

“Or aliens.”

“You know what they should be talking about?” Ino wants to know. “Better footwear for shinobi. I mean, seriously, the athletic sandals we used to wear as genin? Do you know how much blood and muck I used to get between my toes? It’s a nationwide crisis, is what it is.”

“Yeah!” Manako agrees. “Screw aliens.”

“Or preferably don’t,” Sakura muses. “Since that’s how you get god-tier ninja prone to insanity and several lifetimes of angst on repeat.” Everyone glances at her curiously and her clears her throat. “Never mind.”

The other women murmur their agreements, clink their cups, and drink deep again.

Ino glances at her watch. “So how long do you think we have?”

“Until Sai instigates a fight between Naruto and Sasuke, and one or both of them go flying out of the Hokager Tower,” Sakura replies sagely.

Temari shakes her head. “You know, there are days when I think I married the biggest pain in the ass, and then I remember who you married.”

“Are those the days you take a break from bullying Shikamaru to stuff him with food?”? Ino teases.

“I wouldn’t have to stuff him with food if the idiot would just eat during the day.”

“Naruto’s the same,” Hinata sighs. “They’re so busy all the time. And it’s starting to affect the children. Boruto’s been acting out more and more since Naruto became the Hokage. And Himawari’s entered to ‘no’ stage.”

“I know how to fix that one,” Karui says. “If she keeps saying no, ask her if she wants something sweet. When she ‘nopes’ herself out of a treat a few times, that will stop.

“Augh! Are you kidding?!” Ino interrupts suddenly. “Are we seriously talking about our husbands and kids?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Sakura asks.

“Besides the fact we always talk about our husbands and kids? Come on, ladies, get it together! Just because we have babies now doesn’t make us any less badass. Let’s live it up!”

“Four more terrifying words were never uttered,” Temari says.

“Gai in a thong,” Manako offers without missing a beat.

Tenten and Karui spit out the drinks they were sipping, while Ino and Sakura groan. Even Hinata gives a bit of a shudder.

“I stand corrected,” the blond woman says, tipping her own drink in acknowledgement.

“I’m both intensely curious and terrified of the thoughts in your head,” Sakura informs the Inuzuka woman. “And I’ve been a medic in warzones.”

“We all have our little talents,” Manako says. “So—what’s the plan for tonight? Drinking games?”

“Obviously,” Ino says. “But how can we make it more fun?”

“We could go to the Hokage Rock and draw all over Naruto’s face. Not like doesn’t have it coming.”

“How can we make it more fun without getting arrested,” Sakura amends, rolling her eyes.

“Who’s going to arrest you? You’re a hero of Konoha.”

“We could do karaoke,” Tenten suggests. “There’s a new place that opened a few blocks away.”

“No one wants to hear me sing,” Temari says, while Hinata desperately shakes her head; she still tends to avoid any kind of public attention.

“All that stuff sounds complicated,” Karui says. “And it involves more walking around than I feel like tonight.”

“Assuming you can even walk at the end of the night.”

“That too.”

“What about Truth or Dare?” Manako offers, all would-be-innocence. “That’s always a crowd pleaser.”

That earns a few groans.

“That’s so predictable,” Ino complains. “We seriously can’t come up with anything else?”

“Well, we could do ‘Never Have I Ever’, but somebody’s husband officially blacklisted that game two years ago.”

Everyone looks at Hinata, who shrugs. “I still don’t know why he did that. Something about village morals.”

“If it involved anyone affiliated with Team 7, I don’t want to know,” Tenten says decisively.

“Now that that’s settled,” Manako nods and leers at Ino. “Truth or dare?”

“Oh my god, are we actually doing this?” she groans, and throws back her sake. “Okay. Fine. Truth.”

“Lame,” Sakura accuses.

“I’ll remind you when it’s your turn.”

Manako, after thinking about it a few moments, grins. “Alright. I’ve got one: if Sai wanted to roleplay during sex, who or what would you want him to role play as?”

Ino’s jaw drops. “Are you kidding me?”

“Wow, she went right for the dirty stuff on the first go,” Tenten guffaws.

“And you’re surprised by this?” Temari quips.

“Anytime now, Ino-pig.”

“I’m going to get you back for this.”

“You’re stalling,” Manako singsongs. “Do I need to come up with a penalty dare?” She grins, sharp canines giving her a wolfish look.

“No!” Ino snaps, rightly wary of any dare the older woman might conceive of. She purses her lips for a moment, cheeks still burning bright, and then holds her head up as if deciding she won’t be embarrassed by this. “I’m the daimyo’s virginal daughter and Sai’s the court artist commissioned to paint my portrait, only as soon as we’re alone he seduces me. Only we have to be completely quiet or we’ll get caught.”

The other women giggle a little at that.

“That seems very well thought out,” Manako says. “Also, kind of tame for what I expected from you.”

“What exactly did you expect, some kind of dominatrix fantasy?” Ino grumbles. “Sai’s very literal. It’s hard to get him to pretend things outside of what he knows.”

“That sounds an awful lot like it’s something you’ve actually done.”

“Forehead, truth or dare,” Ino orders, the abruptness more telling than an actual verbal answer.

Manako sniggers as Sakura rolls her eyes, folds her arms as if expecting a challenge, and replies, “Dare.”

“Coward.”

“Bite me.”

They stick their tongues out at each other.

“Fine. Wimp out. I dare you to…” Ino casts about for a moment, and then smirks. “I dare you to do a body shot off Hinata’s chest.”

“What?!” the Hokage’s wife squeaks as the other women roar with laughter.

“Now who’s going right for the dirty stuff?” Manako jeers. “Although I can’t say I disapprove.”

“That’s not…why would you…?” Hinata looks like there might be steam coming out of her ears.

“Relax, Hinata,” Sakura grumbles. “I’m not going to do something you’re uncomfortable with, and she knows it.” She juts her chin out at her best friend. “What’s the penalty truth?”

“Does Sasuke ever motorboat you?” Ino asks immediately. “Or try to, considering your lack of breasts.”

“Shots fired,” Tenten murmurs to Temari, who nods with a smirk.

“I hate you,” Sakura mutters, mortified. “And no. He doesn’t. Mostly because I don’t actually think he knows what that means.”

“I really, really believe that,” Manako says honestly.

“You have an awful lot to say tonight, Manako—how about you? Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” she replies, sipping from her cup. “I have no shame.”

Sakura raises an eyebrow at that, and then smiles in a good approximation of the older woman’s own merciless smirk. “What is the sappiest, most lovey-dovey, non-sexual thing you and Kakashi have ever done?”

Manako splutters, sake going everywhere as she coughs and tries to breathe.

“Penalty,” she gasps out, glaring at Sakura.

“So much for no shame,” Temari says.

“I dare you to…” Sakura thinks about it and then grins, “I dare you to let Tenten cut and style your hair with just a kunai.”

There’s a chorus of impressed ohs.

Manako glares. “I just got it back to the length I like since the boys were born.”

“Well, you could always just answer the question from before…”

Manako huffs and climbs unapologetically across the table to sit in front of Tenten. “Well, go on.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a kunai,” the other woman says.

“You own a weapons shop and you’re a shinobi. Of course you have a kunai.”

“I was planning on a night of drinking with the girls, not battle.” When everyone gives her unimpressed looks, she pouts and digs a blade out from the hidden pocket of her pants. “I was going to leave it home…”

“Sure you were,” Karui says, earning Manako’s attention.

“You know, you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time,” she says, frowning as Tenten begins to consider her back-length tresses.

“Why interrupt good entertainment?”

“Interrupt this—truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

“Take off your underwear and hang it from the light fixture for the rest of the night.”

“Who says I’m wearing underwear?”

“Then your bra. We know you’re wearing one of those, we see the padding.”

“I don’t have padding. All this gloriousness is me,” Karui retorts, cupping her breasts. “And you’re just daring me that because you want to see my tits.”

“Guilty,” Manako agrees.

“Sex and underwear. You’re kind of an unimaginative lot, aren’t you?” Temari wants to know as Karui begins shifting and shimmying her bra out from beneath her sleeveless dress.

“Sex and underwear and impromptu kunai make-overs,” Sakura corrects.

“If I come out of this looking like a porcupine, I’m sending the twins to visit you every day for a month,” Manako vows.

“Oi! Why me? Tenten’s the one cutting your hair!”

“You’re the one who came up with the idea.”

“My turn,” Karui interrupts as she drapes her brassier from the lamp above their table. Across the room, the few patrons still remaining murmur at the scandal. “Temari, truth or dare.”

“Dare,” Temari says.

The former Kumonin takes a few seconds to think about it, and then reaches for her purse to remove a tiny vial.

“This is Killer Wasabi,” she says with a smirk. “The hottest sauce available on the continent.”

“And you just happen to carry it around?” Ino asks.

“It’s not my fault the food in Konoha is so bland.”

“And yet I’ve never seen you refuse any of it.”

“That would be rude,” Karui says, affecting primness before her expression becomes mischievous again. She returns her attention to Temari. “This recipe was created by the first Raikage, and then passed down from teacher to student across the generations. It’s so hot it can make a grown man pass out if consumed in large quantities.” She places the vial on the table. “So that’s what I dare you to do. Take a swig of this straight.”

Temari blinks.

“That’s it?” she deadpans.

“Bii-sensei challenged the Fourth Raikage to take a gulp of it straight from the bottle and the man cried.”

“Shit. He didn’t even cry when he got his arm cut off, I heard,” Manako murmurs.

Temari considers the tiny vial, shrugs, and then upends it into her mouth.

Everyone stares.

“You’re not…you’re not human, are you?” Tenten murmurs.

“Are we sure it’s your brother that was possessed by a demon and not you?” Manako wants to know.

“Not possible,” Karui declares. “That’s just…not possible!”

“I went to the dentist today and can’t feel my tongue,” Temari confesses, earning groans and shouts from the others.

“Cheater!”

“Treachery!”

“You suck.”

“You didn’t ask,” Temari says with a shrug and turns to Tenten. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

“Temari!”

“I’m just continuing the trend of inappropriate questions,” the former Sunanin shrugs.

“Fess up, Tenten!” Ino cheers, spilling a bit of sake as she chugs it.

“Personally, I wouldn’t trust any dare Temari comes up with,” Karui says.

“Fine,” Tenten hedges. “I was seventeen.”

“Really?” Ino purrs. “Who was it?”

“I’m not telling,” Tenten says primly.

“Was it Neji?”

“Don’t be insensitive!” Sakura hisses, smacking her.

“Ow! Watch it with the hamfists!”

Tenten is quick to change the subject. “Hinata—truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Hinata murmurs warily, as if not sure which is likely to be the worse choice.

“What was the most embarrassing thing you’ve shouted during sex?”

Hinata squeaks, pressing her flushed face into her hands.

“You’re going to give her a nosebleed,” Karui says.

“She could have chosen dare.”

“Do you actually expect her to answer that?”

Hinata mumbles something into her palms.

“What was that?” Ino asks. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

“‘Cauliflower’,” the Hokage’s wife mutters, only a hair louder but still audible.

Her friends all stare at her for a beat, trying to parse what they just heard, and then—

“EEEHHHH?!?”

“Seriously?!” Ino shrieks.

“What the hell, really?” Manako laughs. “What even…?”

“I was pregnant,” Hinata mumbles. “And craving.”

“Apparently,” Temari drawls.

“How did hubby take that?” Manako asks.

“He…he, um, went to buy some.”

“Actually?” Sakura want to know. “Or do you mean he sent a clone?”

“Um. No, he actually…he got all flustered, and confused,” Hinata admits. “And ran off to the market. He came home with about two dozen of them.”

“Cauliflowerus-interruptus,” Manako shakes her head. “I hope it was good cauliflower.”

“It’s cauliflower,” Tenten drawls. “There’s no way that’s better than sex.”

“Hey, food can be better than sex,” Karui protests. “And not only when you’re pregnant.”

“Well now I know what we should ask you next time you choose truth…”

“Except it’s not your turn to ask.”

All eyes go to Hinata.

“Hinata, ask me something so that I can go next,” Manako orders.

“If you go next, I won’t be the one answering,” Karui promises.

“Um…” Hinata bites her lips, and then nods and asks Manako, “Who was your first love?” she asks.

“Izumi Uchiha,” Manako replies without any hesitation or embarrassment.

“What, really?” Ino asks, eyes wide.

“Did I stutter?”

“That’s…that makes sense actually,” Sakura says. “You told me once that you’d loved an Uchiha, but I thought…I mean, you kind of implied…”

“That it was a guy?”

“Pretty much.”

“Contrary to popular belief, not all Uchiha are men,” Manako replies.

“You wouldn’t know it the way the history books are written,” Sakura mutters.

“Temari! Have I got a dare for you—”

“Truth,” the other woman says instantly. “As if I would be stupid enough to choose one of your dares.”

“I’m wounded. But alright, fine. Let me asks you the most important truth I can think of.”

Temari raises an eyebrow, but her face remains as stolid as ever. “Fine.”

But Manako doesn’t speak. Instead, she holds the tips of her index fingers together and then slowly starts to pull them apart.

For a moment no one knows what she is doing, but as the distance grows between the fingers—three inches, four inches—comprehension dawns on everyone.

“Oh my god!” Sakura sputters, before pressing her hand against her mouth to muffle her laughter.

Temari doesn’t answer or change her expression as Manako continues to move her fingers apart—five inches, six inches—and Hinata squeaks, cheeks filled with so much blood she appears about to faint. Seven inches, eight—

“Okay, now I’m actually getting worried for you,” the older woman says.

“You have no idea,” Temari replies, leaning back with her arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on her face.

“I can’t hear this!” Ino wails. “He’s like…ugh, he’s like my brother and you just…that image! I will never get that image out of my head.”

“Shit,” Karui says. “How are you still walking upright, woman?”

Even Tenten looks impressed.

“Okay, we have to get this out of the way right now, so no one else decides to draw it out over a bunch of Truths,” Ino says. “Over and done with. On a scale of one to ten—”

“On a scale of one to Shikamaru,” Manako sniggers.

Ino shoots her a dirty look. “On a scale of one to ten—”

Sakura interrupts. “The average length is about five inches. It’s beyond the norm to have a penis larger than—”

Hinata yelps in protest, and Karui gives her an unimpressed look. “You’ve had two children and copious amounts of sex, and the word ‘penis’ bothers you?”

“It’s…it’s not a very nice word,” the Hokage’s wife mutters, embarrassed.

“It’s not a very nice-looking body part, but it gets the job done.”

“Especially if you’re Temari, apparently,” Tenten chuckles.

“She’s got a point, though. Sometimes I wish I was only into women, so I didn’t have to look at a penis,” Manako says. “It’s one thing to know it’s there—and hey, I benefit greatly from having a partner that has one—but given the choice…” She seesaws her right hand up and down. “Honestly, I could do without.”

“You’d still be with Kakashi even if he didn’t have a dick?” Karui asks, surprised.

“Of course! You don’t know what that mouth is capable of—”

“Does he even have a mouth?” Sakura wonders.

“—and even if that wasn’t the case? Dildos exist for a reason. Whether you have a dick or not,” Manako decides. The raises an eyebrow at Karui. “Are you saying if Chōji was in an accident tomorrow and lost his balls, you’d stop being with him?”

“What? No! And besides, what accident would that be? He barely even goes out on missions anymore.”

“Actually, there are several ways a man can lose—” Sakura begins.

“I wasn’t actually asking,” Karui rolls her eyes.

“I think we’re all getting wildly off-topic here,” Ino interjects. “Now! On a scale of one to—”

“—Shikamaru,” Manako and Tenten say at the same time, grinning irreverently.

“—where do our guys fall?”

“I think that’s an inaccurate rating system,” Sakura protests. “Size can’t be the only factor.”

“Yeah, what about girth?” Manako wants to know. “It’s all well and good if a guy’s eight inches long, but if his dick’s as thin as a pencil, it’s pretty much useless.”

“And what about stamina? It’s not like it moves on its own,” Karui adds.

“Oh! And proper aim! Or, you know, additional use of fingers. Nothing worse than sex with someone who thinks penetration is the only way to get a woman off,” Tenten adds,

“Gods, this is turning into some kind of quadratic equation,” Ino complains.

“It’s not that hard,” Sakura protests. There are several laughs at that, and she rolls her eyes. “Pun not intended. But anyway, let’s say we have four categories—length, girth, stamina and miscellaneous—”

“What about…” Hinata begins, her voice barely above a whisper, and then she adds, “What about the feelings you have for your partner? That…I’m sure that makes a difference.”

The other women consider, and the nod in agreement.

“Alright, so we have five criteria, so if we put those out of ten, average them out and then assign them a value on the spectrum of one to—”

—Shikamaru,” Karui, Manako and Tenten chorus.

“Stop that!” Ino snaps.

“—then it would be more accurate,” Sakura finishes.

“If you’re still able to do math, you’re not drunk enough,” Temari informs Sakura.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of when I’m drunk,” Sakura retorts. “And besides—I don’t get drunk.”

“Oh, so that wasn’t you Sasuke was carting home from dinner last weekend, slung over his shoulder and staring at his ass?” Ino challenges. “Hm, must have been some other pink haired lush with a mutant forehead.”

They glare at each other.

“9/10,” Sakura says at last. “There’s some stuff Sasuke’s a bit shy about or doesn’t bother with, but everything else makes up for it.”

“9/10 for Sai, too,” Ino agrees.

“You’re just saying that to compete with me.”

“Says you! My husband happens to be an excellent lover.”

“Except when he accidentally says something insulting and ruins the mood, I’m guessing,” Sakura says. “He does it in normal conversation, so I’m pretty sure he’s done it during sex too.”

“Stop thinking about my husband having sex!”

“Can’t think about her husband, can’t think about her not-brother…who can we think about having sex?” Manako wants to know and Tenten sniggers.

“Choji’s an 8,” Karui says, interrupting the argument. “But that’s just because he keeps wanting to bring food into bed. And then one or both of us gets distracted.”

“Ugh!” Ino cries. “Stop telling me things I can’t unhear!”

“Shikamaru’s an 8 too,” Temari says, earning surprised glances. “And only because he falls asleep a lot.”

“Oh, Naruto does that too,” Hinata agrees. “They’re both so busy at work.”

“So Naruto’s also an 8?”

“No. He’s a 10.”

“No way Naruto’s a 10,” Sakura insists.

“Yeah, he’s got to have something wrong with him,” Ino agrees. “ I mean…he’s Naruto.”

“10,” Hinata maintains firmly, and whether it’s out of loyalty or reality, everyone senses it’s better not to ask.

“Well, Kakashi’s an easy 10,” Manako says. “But that’s just because he has more experience than any of your men.”

“Whatever, you old crone.”

“Now that we’ve established all of that,” Temari interrupts, “I believe it was my turn to ask…” She trails off, considering her next victim, and then smirks at Hinata. “Truth or Dare?”

“T-truth.”

“Was your wedding night the first time Naruto saw you naked?” Temari wants to know.

The other women burst into laughter.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Hinata groans.

“You could always choose dare.”

“Which would be…?”

Temari considers, and then nods to herself. “Pick someone in this room and lick their cheek.”

“I volunteer,” Manako says immediately.

“You would,” Sakura mutters.

“You’re full of hair,” Ino points out. “She’d probably get a hairball.”

“That’s cats,” Manako sniffs, shaking her head.

“Stop moving if you don’t want me cutting off an ear,” Tenten warns her.

“It wasn’t.”

The words are so quiet, they almost go unnoticed.

Almost.

“It wasn’t?” Temari repeats, staring intently at Hinata.

“You mean you gave it up before you got married?” Ino blurts out. “Wow, Hinata, I never knew you had it in you—”

“No! That wasn’t—we didn’t—Temari asked about the first time he saw me naked, not when we slept together,” Hinata complains, normally pale skin darkened by a blush and her pale eyes flashing with a hint of temper. “And that night wasn’t the first time. We were out on a mission once when we were chunin and I was meditating by the river and I didn’t have clothes on.”

“And he barged right in?” Sakura supplies. “Pervert.”

“He didn’t know I was there,” Hinata protests.

“Sure he didn’t…”

Hinata folds her arms and frowns. “Ino, truth or dare.”

“Oi! I make one comment and now you’re going to pick on me?”

Hinata raises an eyebrow.

“Truth,” Ino says, not quite trusting the usually innocent Hinata; it’s always the quiet ones that are the most dangerous, after all.

The Hokage’s wife ponders, and then a truly uncanny smile appears on her face, one that would look more at home on Naruto than her. “I heard somewhere that you perfected the Yamanaka technique of switching souls within bodies. So have you ever—I mean, on purpose—switched with Sai…you know…during?”

Ino’s jaw drops.

As does everyone else’s.

Sakura is the first to speak. “Well, I never would have saw that one coming.”

She almost sounds impressed.

“You have a dirty, dirty mind,” Manako says. “Good for you.”

“I think you broke Ino,” Temari points out, and everyone glances at the other blond woman who looks as if her brain has short-circuited.

“I think that’s a yes,” Sakura says, eyes gleaming with mischief. “She only over looks like that when she’s been caught out.”

“No way,” Karui says in awe. “So you’ve actually—?”

Ino snaps out of. “You’re all being ridiculous.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Stop it!”

“That’s a yes!”

“No it’s not!”

“So you actually know what it’s like to have sex as a guy?” Manako wants to know. “This I have to hear.”

“No, I don’t—stop putting words in my mouth! Truth! I choose a penalty truth!”

“Well-played,” Temari informs Hinata, who smiles sheepishly, before asking Ino, “If you could sleep with any of the Kage, past or present, who would you choose?”

“Nice one,” Sakura approves.

Ino thinks about it, and then says, “Kurutsuchi.”

Everyone gasps at that.

“Seriously?” Manako asks.

“Did I stutter?” Ino shoots back, echoing her words back.

“I thought you were completely straight,” Tenten says, surprised.

“I am. But given the fact that everyone else is or was either ugly, old, creepy or evil, I stand by my choice. Especially since Hinata said sleep and didn’t necessarily say have sex with.”

“Boo,” Sakura accuses. “You’re not supposed to logic your way out of an embarrassing truth. In fact, you’re not supposed to be sober enough to logic your way out of an embarrassing truth.”

“I’m just that good,” Ino sniffs.

“In your own mind, maybe…”

“Shut up. No, wait. Don’t shut up. Truth or dare?”

“Didn’t you already ask her?” Karui wants to know.

“Shh! It’s bound to be a good one,” Manako interrupts her. By now, her hair has been chopped off into an uneven, bristly pixie cut, and Tenten is grumbling as she pushes long locks of hair off of herself.

“I hope the manager of this place doesn’t mind cleaning this up,” she mutters to herself. “Maybe I can give him a discount at my store or something…”

“Okay, okay, I’ve got one, I’ve got one,” Ino interrupts, waving her hands to make everyone else shut up. “Okay—Sakura. Imagine you get Sasuke to agree to have a threesome with you and another guy—"

“Tch! Sure, in a parallel universe,” Sakura snorts, and then pauses, blinking. “On second thought, having met the Sasuke from a parallel universe, I think he might actually be into that sort of thing.”

“Wow,” Temari says with a blink. “I don’t know whether that’s hot or disturbing.”

“Hot,” Tenten decides.

“Disturbing,” Karui says at the same time.

“Both?” Hinata suggests tentatively.

“Both,” Manako says with a definitive note in her voice.

“All of you shut up, I haven’t finished my question!” Ino snaps, and the other women glance back at her. She renews her grin at Sakura. “So—say you get Sasuke to agree to a threesome with another guy, but it has to be a guy from your genin squad—”

“Ino!”

“—who would it be?”

“That’s not fair!” Sakura protests. “Three of them are married—”

“Kakashi and I aren’t married, we’re living in sin,” Manako interjects.

“—to people sitting in this room!”

“Well, fine, if you’re going to whine about it—for the purposes of this truth we can include members of your chūnin squad, too.”

“That’s no different!”

“If you don’t tell the truth, you have to do the dare,” Ino sing-songs.

Cheeks burning and expression mutinous, Sakura spends a few seconds considering the lesser of two evils, and then sighs. “Fine. Kakashi.”

There’s a burst of uproarious laughter and squealing.

“No way!” Ino protests. “He’s so old!”

“He’s not old, he’s experienced,” Manako corrects with would-be-haughtiness. “And a girl could do worse.”

“It has nothing to do with that!” Sakura cries and goes, if possible, even more red. “It’s the choice that makes the most sense! If it were Naruto, he and Sasuke would forget all about me and start some ridiculous competition—probably measuring their dicks or something—”

Everyone laughs, and even red-faced and perpetually embarrassed Hinata cocks her head to one side as if to say, ‘fair point’.

“—and that would end in a fist-fight. Then there’s Sai, who would have a comment for everything, and Sasuke would take it as criticism, and that would end in a fistfight,” she goes on, ticking options off her fingers while Temari snorts and takes another sip of sake.

“—and Yamato-taichou would be so unbelievable uncomfortable he would pass out—”

“Also, didn’t Sasuke stab him once?” Temari wants to know.

“—yeah, exactly! I doubt he’d want to get it on with the guy who stabbed him.”

“I don’t know if that would make a difference. Sasuke’s stabbed Naruto half a dozen times, and Naruto would probably still be down to fu—”

“Manako, if you finish that sentence, I will slip cocoa into your food and watch you asphyxiate to death in front of me,” Sakura vows, glancing over Hinata with the urge to press her hands over the other woman’s ears.

“Doesn’t setting off a severe enough allergic reaction that is causes anaphylactic shock violate the Medic-Nin’s Oath?” Manako challenges, and then makes a face. “Huh. Say that ten times fast.”

“There are loopholes,” Sakura replies primly.

“Sure there are…”

“Why are we focusing on Sakura becoming a murderer, and not on the fact that she wants to bone her former jōnin instructor?” Karui wants to know.

“I never said I wanted to bone him! It was Truth or Dare question!”

“Hmph. I personally would have gone with the Dare…”

“I don’t know,” Ino muses slowly. “I guess it could be interesting. I mean, he does read those books all the time.” She shoots Manako a questioning look. “Or does that not carry over?”

The older woman grins wolfishly. “Oh, it does. It really, really does.”

“La-la-la, I can’t hear you,” Sakura sings. Forget putting her hands over Hinata’s ears, she’s clapped them so hard to her head that she feels a bit of suction between palm and ear.

A sudden explosion rips through the air, sending a shockwave through the entire restaurant; it’s strong enough to knock Karui’s brassier from the lamp fixture. Outside, violent purple and fiery orange light up the night, behind the ruins of the Hokage tower.

“I guess that’s our cue,” Sakura sighs, getting up.

“Husband wrangling time,” Ino agrees.

“Who’s getting the bill?” Karui wants to know.

Everyone exchanges glances, and quickly stick their forefingers on their nose, except for Manako, who’s investigating her shorn hair. Noticing them all, she groans.

“Oh, that’s nice. Pick on the girl without super ninja reflexes.”

終わり

________________________________________________________________

So, there you go. It’s complete and utter crack, and totally just written for the sake of dialogue more than anything else. And all the sex info you never knew you wanted to know :P

Hope you guys had a bit of a laugh!

(Also, it occurs to me that Manako is the Naruto’verse equivalent of Captain Jack Harkness…)

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn’t something you’re comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

栗

#naruto fanfiction #kunoichi #sakura uchiha #ino yamanaka #hinata uzumaki #karui akimichi #temari nara #manako inuzuka #humor #sex humor #sex positive #there is no such thing as privacy #sexy wives of konoha #crack #like seriously #total crack #poor judgement 'verse

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orthodoxydaily · 4 years

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Saints&Reading: Thu., Mar. 11, 2021

Commemorated on Thursday of the Cheese-fare Week, May 9_ by the new Calendar

Commemorated on February 26_ By the New Calendar

Saint Porphyrios, Archbishop of Gaza (420)

Saint Porphyrios, Archbishop of Gaza, was born in about the year 346 at Thessalonika in Macedonia. His parents were people of substance, and this allowed Saint Porphyrios to receive a fine education. Having the inclination for monastic life, at twelve years of age he left his native region and set off to Egypt, where he asceticised in the Nitreian desert under the guidance of the Monk Makarios the Great (Comm. 19 January). There also he met Blessed Jerome (Comm. 15 June), who was then visiting the Egyptian monasteries; he set off with him to Jerusalem on pilgrimage to the holy places and to reverence the Life-Creating Cross of the Lord (Comm. 14 September), after which he resettled into the Jordanian wilderness for prayer and ascetic deeds. There Saint Porphyrios fell under a serious malady. For healing he decided to go to the holy places of Jerusalem. One time, when fully paralysed he lay half-conscious at the foot of Golgotha, the Lord sent His servant into a salvific sleep-vision. Saint Porphyrios beheld Jesus Christ, descending with the Cross and turning to him with the words: "Take this Wood and preserve it". Awakening, he sensed himself healthy. The words of the Saviour were soon fulfilled: the Patriarch of Jerusalem ordained Saint Porphyrios to the priestly dignity and appointed him curator of the Venerable Wood of the Cross of the Lord. And it was during this time that Saint Porphyrios received his portion of an inheritance from his parents – 4 thousand gold coins. All this he gave away to the needy and for the embellishing of the churches of God.

In 395 the bishop of the city of Gaza (in Palestine) died. The local Christians set out to Caesarea to the Metropolitan John with a request to provide them a new bishop, who would be able to contend against the pagans, which were predominant in their city and were harassing the Christians there. The Lord inspired the Metropolitan to summon the Jerusalem presbyter Porphyrios. With fear and trembling the ascetic accepted the dignity of bishop, and with tears he prostrated himself before the Life-Creating Wood and then set off to fulfill his new obedience.

In Gaza he found all of only three Christian churches, but of the pagan temples and idols – there were a great many. During this time there had occurred a long spell without rain, causing a severe drought. The pagan-priests brought offerings to their idols, but the woes did not cease. Saint Porphyrios imposed a fast for all the Christians; he then made the all-night vigil, followed by going round all the city in a church procession. Immediately the sky covered over with storm clouds, thunder boomed, and abundant rains poured down. Seeing this miracle, many a pagan cried out: "Christ is indeed the One True God!" As a result of this, there came to be united to the Church through Holy Baptism 127 men, 35 women and 14 children, and soon after this, another 110 men. But the pagans just like before still harassed the Christians, passed them over for public office, and burdened them down with taxes. Saint Porphyrios and the Metropolitan of Caesarea John set off to Constantinople, to seek redress from the emperor. Saint John Chrysostom (Comm. 14 September, 27 and 30 January) received them and rendered them active assistance. Saints John and Porphyrios were presented to the empress Eudoxia who at that time was expecting a child. "Intercede for us, – said the bishops to the empress, – and the Lord will send thee a son, who shalt reign during thine lifetime". Eudoxia very much wanted a son, since she had given birth only to daughters. And actually through the prayer of the saints an heir was born to the imperial family... In consequence of this, the emperor in the year 401 issued an edict directing the destruction of the pagan temples in Gaza and the restoration of privileges to Christians. Moreover, the emperor bestowed on the saints the means for the construction of a new church, which was to be built in Gaza on the locale of the chief pagan-temple there. Saint Porphyrios to the very end of his life upheld Christianity in Gaza and guarded well his flock from the vexatious pagans. Through the prayers of the saint there occurred numerous miracles and healings. Over the course of 25 years the archpastor guided veritable flock and reposed at an advanced age, in the year 420.

The Monk Shio (Simeon) of Mgvim (6th c.)

The Monk Shio (Simeon) of Mgvim was born in Syrian Antioch. His parents were Christians and raised their son as the only heir. The youth received a fine education, he studied the Holy Scripture and already in his early years he became accomplished in the ability of expounding the Word of God. Having learnt about an holy ascetic named John, Shio secretly left his parental home and set out to the saint. The Monk John made the youth return to his parents, after foretelling that his parents would become monastics. The prediction was soon fulfilled: Shio distributed his inheritance and accepted tonsure from the Monk John.

The Monk Shio 20 years later, amidst 12 other chosen disciples of Saint John, set off to Iveria (Gruzia or Georgia) to preach the Word of God. With the blessing both of his teacher and of the Gruzinian Katholikos Eulabios, the Monk Shio settled into a cave west of the city of Mtskheta, where he made austere ascetic efforts and was vouchsafed miraculous visions. The solitary life of the ascetic became known of, and soon the place of the saint's efforts was transformed into a monastery, at which a church in the Name of the MostHoly Trinity was established by the monk. Later on other churches were built: in honour of the Mother of God and John the Forerunner. All the churches were consecrated by the Katholikos Makarios. The number of brethren increased, and the monk gave his blessing for them to found the Mgvim monastery, while he himself continued his deeds of salvation in seclusion. The Monk Shio reposed on 9 May, having the evening before communed the Holy Mysteries and given the brethren a final salvific instruction. The remains of the Saint of God were buried in the monastery founded by him. The Monk Shio is known, as the author of 160 precepts for the brethren.

Jude 1:11-25

11Woe to them! For they have gone in the way of Cain, have run greedily in the error of Balaam for profit, and perished in the rebellion of Korah.12 These are spots in your love feasts, while they feast with you without fear, serving only themselves. They are clouds without water, carried about by the winds; late autumn trees without fruit, twice dead, pulled up by the roots;13 raging waves of the sea, foaming up their own shame; wandering stars for whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever. 14 Now Enoch, the seventh from Adam, prophesied about these men also, saying, "Behold, the Lord comes with ten thousands of His saints, 15 to execute judgment on all, to convict all who are ungodly among them of all their ungodly deeds which they have committed in an ungodly way, and of all the harsh things which ungodly sinners have spoken against Him. 16 These are grumblers, complainers, walking according to their own lusts; and they mouth great swelling words, flattering people to gain advantage. 17 But you, beloved, remember the words which were spoken before by the apostles of our Lord Jesus Christ: 18 how they told you that there would be mockers in the last time who would walk according to their own ungodly lusts. 19 These are sensual persons, who cause divisions, not having the Spirit. 20 But you, beloved, building yourselves up on your most holy faith, praying in the Holy Spirit, 21 keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. 22 And on some have compassion, making a distinction; 23 but others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire, hating even the garment defiled by the flesh. 24 Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, And to present you faultless Before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, 25 To God our Savior, Who alone is wise, Be glory and majesty, Dominion and power, Both now and forever. Amen.

Luke 23:1-34, 44-56

1Then the whole multitude of them arose and led Him to Pilate. 2 And they began to accuse Him, saying, "We found this fellow perverting the nation, and forbidding to pay taxes to Caesar, saying that He Himself is Christ, a King." 3 Then Pilate asked Him, saying, "Are You the King of the Jews?" He answered him and said, "It is as you say." 4 So Pilate said to the chief priests and the crowd, "I find no fault in this Man." 5 But they were the more fierce, saying, "He stirs up the people, teaching throughout all Judea, beginning from Galilee to this place." 6 When Pilate heard of Galilee, he asked if the Man were a Galilean. 7 And as soon as he knew that He belonged to Herod's jurisdiction, he sent Him to Herod, who was also in Jerusalem at that time. 8 Now when Herod saw Jesus, he was exceedingly glad; for he had desired for a long time to see Him, because he had heard many things about Him, and he hoped to see some miracle done by Him. 9 Then he questioned Him with many words, but He answered him nothing. 10 And the chief priests and scribes stood and vehemently accused Him. 11 Then Herod, with his men of war, treated Him with contempt and mocked Him, arrayed Him in a gorgeous robe, and sent Him back to Pilate. 12 That very day Pilate and Herod became friends with each other, for previously they had been at enmity with each other. 13 Then Pilate, when he had called together the chief priests, the rulers, and the people, 14 said to them, "You have brought this Man to me, as one who misleads the people. And indeed, having examined Him in your presence, I have found no fault in this Man concerning those things of which you accuse Him; 15 no, neither did Herod, for I sent you back to him; and indeed nothing deserving of death has been done by Him. 16 I will therefore chastise Him and release Him 17 (for it was necessary for him to release one to them at the feast). 18 And they all cried out at once, saying, "Away with this Man, and release to us Barabbas"- 19 who had been thrown into prison for a certain rebellion made in the city, and for murder. 20 Pilate, therefore, wishing to release Jesus, again called out to them. 21 But they shouted, saying, "Crucify Him, crucify Him!" 22 Then he said to them the third time, "Why, what evil has He done? I have found no reason for death in Him. I will therefore chastise Him and let Him go." 23 But they were insistent, demanding with loud voices that He be crucified. And the voices of these men and of the chief priests prevailed. 24 So Pilate gave sentence that it should be as they requested. 25 And he released to them the one they requested, who for rebellion and murder had been thrown into prison; but he delivered Jesus to their will. 26 Now as they led Him away, they laid hold of a certain man, Simon a Cyrenian, who was coming from the country, and on him they laid the cross that he might bear it after Jesus. 27 And a great multitude of the people followed Him, and women who also mourned and lamented Him. 28 But Jesus, turning to them, said, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for Me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. 29 For indeed the days are coming in which they will say, 'Blessed are the barren, wombs that never bore, and breasts which never nursed!' 30 Then they will begin 'to say to the mountains, Fall on us!" and to the hills, "Cover us!" ' 31 For if they do these things in the green wood, what will be done in the dry? 32 There were also two others, criminals, led with Him to be put to death. 33 And when they had come to the place called Calvary, there they crucified Him, and the criminals, one on the right hand and the other on the left. 34 Then Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do." And they divided His garments and cast lots. 44 Now it was about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. 45 Then the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was torn in two. 46 And when Jesus had cried out with a loud voice, He said, "Father, 'into Your hands I commit My spirit.' " Having said this, He breathed His last. 47 So when the centurion saw what had happened, he glorified God, saying, "Certainly this was a righteous Man!" 48 And the whole crowd who came together to that sight, seeing what had been done, beat their breasts and returned. 49 But all His acquaintances, and the women who followed Him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things. 50 Now behold, there was a man named Joseph, a council member, a good and just man. 51 He had not consented to their decision and deed. He was from Arimathea, a city of the Jews, who himself was also waiting for the kingdom of God. 52 This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. 53 Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen, and laid it in a tomb that was hewn out of the rock, where no one had ever lain before. 54 That day was the Preparation, and the Sabbath drew near. 55 And the women who had come with Him from Galilee followed after, and they observed the tomb and how His body was laid. 56 Then they returned and prepared spices and fragrant oils. And they rested on the Sabbath according to the commandment.

#orthodoxy #orthodox christianity #ancientchristianity #originofchristianity #spirituality #holyscriptures #gospel #sacred texts #wisdom

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