#this time i am Going To Kill The Moon Lord. and i want to contain the hallow and eliminate the corruption.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Moon’s Queen ~ Ramsay Bolton x Tyrell!Reader ***

This is lowkey N.S.F.W., but not only. 

Basically, the reader goes up North for the first time, takes a liking to a certain Bastard and he shows her the beauty of the Snow Land, only for Myranda to butt her nose and try to kill poor reader... Who only gets the most royal treatment from the bastard~

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“Is there really any place better than the ethereal gardens of our capital?” Y/N asked, twirling barefoot on the green grass, as she bathed in the warm caress giveth by the Sun. “I agree, My Lady. The beauty of the Reach is known all over Westeros, and even far beyond the borders.” Y/N’s maid smiled, looking at the joyful maiden. “Leana, come over, come over - Have you heard that rumours? They say some lords from the North are going to arrive soon. I wonder the purpose for their long journey. Surely, if it were not important, a Lord would not be making such a tedious trip.” Y/N turned abruptly towards her maid and grabbed her hands gingerly, yet her smirk was mischievous, like that of a playful vixen. “My Lady, please, for the love that you bore me and your Lady mother, behave as a lady should. Such wicked curiosity is unbecoming of someone of your status. Not to mention, you are not even betrothed yet, grace of your Lord Father’s love for you and your... Adventurous side, let us name it that way, as to avoid words unspeakable for a lady --” though the maid continued reproaching her, Y/N already was far away, as she had seen the retinue making their way towards the castle.

Keeping her distance from the main road, Y/N ran along, inspecting the banners - Of course, as the eldest daughter of the Tyrell Lord, she was well educated. She just didn’t bother acting the part. Thus, she easily spotted the main banners of the Stark and Bolton family, along with some of their vassals and other lesser... Far less important lords that were hardly worth caring for.

She at least could realise why her father wanted to keep this as a surprise - He always loved surprising her with the newest things out there, even if that meant some new lordlings visiting with sons and daughters her age so that she would make new friends, should they be willing to.

Unable to contain her excitement any further, the young lady of barely eight and ten years of age bursted through the front doors of the Castle and ran all the way to the throne room, where she saw her father greeting Lord Stark and Lord Bolton, while their children and the lesser lords were one step, or even two,  behind. Y/N grinned widely as she skipped to her lord father’s side, hugging his side and wearing the most charming and innocent expression a daughter could make to melt her father’s old heart, as she kissed his cheek.

“Sweet father, what a pleasant surprise! To think that we would be guesting visitors from so far away! How very exciting!” then, she turned to the two older men and did a pretty curtesy, despite not wearing any shoes and wearing a light, simple dress. “You must be Lord Stark and Lord Bolton - It is a pleasure meeting you and your envoy.” Eddard Stark was the first to step forward and kiss her hand, with the other one following right behind. Her father guffawed mirthfully and put his hand on her back, while with the other, he pointed to the children of those lords. “Y/N, darling, why don’t you entertain the young guests? They must be tired after such a tiresome journey. Show them to their room and then guide them down for the feast, will you?” with a pat on her head, the girl nodded with a bright smile and skipped towards the other ones, some her age, while some, much younger than her. “If you would be so kind as to follow me - Ah, of course, where are my manners, do excuse me. My name is Y/N Tyrell and I am the eldest daughter of my Lord Father, Mace Tyrell, and my Lady Mother, Alerie Hightower. I have four other siblings - Willas, who is the oldest one, Garlant, my dear twin brother, Loras, who is by far, the prettiest young man the Reach has ever seen, and my sweet sister Margaery, who rivals any flower in Westeros.” Y/N continued to speak, not daring yet to get a better look at the young ones whom she was guiding - She wanted to take each of them through a detailed lens, once the feast began, so she could see what kind of people they truly are, despite their frail age.

Despite her reticence, she could already see their personalities shine, more or less individually - While Robb was more sober and chivalrous, Jon, the bastard of Lord Stark, was rather timid and dared not speak. Sansa was the definition of the perfect lady, whilst young Arya was an adventurous, playful soul, just like her.

And then, there was Ramsay Snow, Roose Bolton’s bastard and only child, and much possibly, the one that will become his heir and take over the Dreadfort... This one was... Odd, to say the least. Handsome, charming, well-natured, rather funny and an outright gentleman - He even seemed interested in her passions and anything that she has to say, unlike the other two boys.

Was Roose Bolton trying to have his child court her, for a better claim to get his bastard legitimized? How intriguing.

By the time evening came through, Y/N was already bathed, oiled in the most fragrant, sweet perfumes and garbed in the most beautiful light blue and gold dress, making her shine even more beautifully than the colourful flowers that were braided into her long, shiny hair that cascaded down her back in velvety waves as she entered the feast room and sat between Sansa and Arya (asked by their Lord Father, in hopes that they would stop their on-going feud), with the three visitor boys sitting opposite of them. Margaery and Loras were chatting somewhere closer to their mother, while Willas, Garlan and his wife were having a pleasant conversation at the other end of the table.

"I would love to ask you how do you find Highgarden so far, yet that would be just silly of me. You are far too tired for a walk through the gardens, though I promise you that, on the morrow, I shall be guiding you through all of the beautiful places that the proximity has to offer. There is truly nothing better in life than to feast your eyes on the beauty and art that life has to offer.” the girl smiled serenely, as if she was completely unaffected by anything tainted in this world. Ramsay Snow, with those gargoyle blue eyes, was staring at her with wonder and intrigue - There was also something else, rather foreign for him... A kind of hunger that he had never experienced, no matter how many pretty girls passed through his hands and bed. 

Was it his intuition? That there was something far more sinister about this young girl that hid behind wet fawn eyes? Something that was hidden away from anyone to see? Surely, there was no human capable of being this... Sickeningly soft and sweet and whatever other feminine words that are hammered down into a woman’s brain from birth.

No - Perhaps, not EVERY woman. Myranda cursed like a sailor and her speech was dirty and vulgar, unlike her pretty face and fragile body. She could easily break, just like all of them, no matter the vocabulary they used. Pathetic.

Still, he was outright fascinated, and he wanted dearly to see whether this Tyrell girl was made, inside and out, of flowers and perfume - If honeyed wine was surging through her veins, because if so, he’d get drunk on her blood, and feast on her supple, tender body like a madman.

“Lady Y/N, did you make your dress yourself?” Sansa asked with a shy smile, admiring the fine craftsmanship - The fashion style and hair styles were so different down south, compared to those in the north. “Not entirely, though, I suppose I could, if I put my mind to. I love embroidery, but I do not much fancy tailoring as a whole. Whenever I want to pass some time, I go in the garden and embroider whatever designs I am inspired to on a new dress that the seamstresses make for me.” the girl answered truthfully, allowing the red haired beauty to trace the golden, intricate designs with her soft fingertips. “See? She said she hates tailoring! She’s on my side!” Arya blurted in a bratty voice, making her two brothers lean on each other, to hide their chuckling. “No! She said she loved embroidery, she’s nothing like you, you dirty sewer rat!” Sansa gritted her teeth at her younger sister, latching her arms onto the Tyrell girl’s arm. “Oh my, oh my, what do we have here, a little sister feud. I see that sweet Sansa is rather fond of feminine arts... But you, Arya, are not. Could it be that you prefer a... Different kind of ‘needlework’? Could it be that, should you have been born a male, you could have easily defeated your two sniggering brothers over there?” Y/N raised her hand to her mouth, humming in amusement at their family interactions. “What?! You mean you like sparring too? And archery? And horse-riding? And fencing? And --” Arya’s eyes became wide like saucers from absolute amazement. “No way Lady Y/N enjoys something so brutish and barbaric as that! Look at her, she’s such a fine and delicate lady - There’s no scar or bruise on her skin, and her hands aren’t even pricked by needles!” Sansa tried to defend her own vision of the Tyrell girl, who only shook her head. “It is a wide belief that people should be owners of a variety of skills, of the widest ranges. Be it that I am arranging flowers with my sweet sister, or sparring with young Loras, if I am discussing history, art and philosophy with my eldest brother, or winning riding contests against my darling twin, it matters little. Those skills need not be necessarily mastered to the maximum degree possible, but they should at least be known, for the most part.” she explained as gracefully as she could, hoping that both sisters would be pacified... Somehow.

However, they only began arguing more, making Y/N lean backwards to allow them to face each other better. With a low chuckle, she slipped her way out of there, sharing an amused look with the three boys opposite of her, before she stole a plate filled with small cakes, tarts and pastries and making her way outside, so she could take a stroll through the garden, the dimly lit lamps and the silvery light of Mother Moon being the only source of light.

The sound of rapid footsteps on the cobbled street, however, made the corners of her mouth turn upward in amusement as she continued to walk, seemingly unassuming, until the owner of those steps jumped right in front of her - Yet she did not flinch - Instead, she took a strawberry tart and popped it into his mouth.

“Do you have strawberries up North, Lord Ramsay?” the man’s eyes were wide, yet nowhere near matching Arya’s previous shock. With a huff, he gulped down the bite-sized tart and nodded his head in approval. “I have to admit, My Lady, that I have never tasted anything as delicious as this tart. I may have not realised entirely the benefits of living in the most prosperous land in Westeros. There are many a fruit and vegetables that are foreign to me, who has not left the North until now.” he spoke, side-stepping so he could walk next to her. “I can only assume Highgarden is a most safe land, otherwise, a gorgeous lady such as yourself would be afraid of walking the dark gardens, unattended by anyone.” he assumed, stealing another cake, this one, a pomegranate one. “Yes, you are correct, My Lord. There have been no assaults in Highgarden, since I have been born. I often stroll through the gardens at night - I have found it a rather relaxing and enjoyable hobby of mine - And through none of these promenades of mine, have I ever needed to make use of my hidden weapon, thankfully for whatever fool might be out there.” she explained nonchalantly, entering a large garden filled with only white flowers that almost seemed to glow in the moonlight. The girl sat down on the grass and looked up at the moon, letting the plate on the ground, and she smiled. “Do you know what flower this is, Lord Ramsay?” she asked, a serene and peaceful expression on her face, as the man sat down next to her. “No, I dare say, I do not. We do not have such majestic flowers in my lands.” he answered, examining and analysing her face as if she was some kind of Moon Nayad. “They are called the ‘Moon’s Queen’, for they only open their petals during the night, if they receive this silvery light.” her smile felt as serene as the moon - Was she some kind of Moon Goddess that thrived best in the night light? Or, perhaps, some kind of witch, for she completely enchanted him. Getting up from the ground, she waltzed to one of the bigger flowers, and taking a dagger hidden within her hair’s braids, she cut it short and returned to the man. “The petals are even softer than a rose’s - And unlike one, they have a sweet perfume smell. But they are shy, and not many people know of them, hence why this flower is always... Forgotten. It can only be white, unlike the rose, which can grace every colour there is, hence why, it is the most loved and praised flower, especially here - Our symbol is a golden rose, after all.” the girl was kneeling on the ground in front of him, the flower nestling beautifully on her two joined palms - In the light, it looked as if it was glowing. “You said your sister was named ‘The Rose of Highgarden’, as she is the most beautiful woman in the Reach. I beg to disagree. Roses are common, and boring - One can find them anywhere. They are even freely given at jousting tourneys.” Ramsay spoke, carefully taking the flower, and fixing it into her hair. “But I think true beauty is hidden away from the common eye. The most endearing things are the mysteries you unveil yourself.” though her eyes were cast down, and a soft blush was painted on her cheeks, the bastard could see the enigmatic smile that was painted on those sweet lips of hers - He was convinced they were even softer, and more velvety than even the petals of this flower - And oh, how he wanted to test that theory for himself. “Then, how would you name me, Lord Ramsay~?” her eyes slowly met his, and for a moment there, he had forgotten how to breathe. Those sparkling, beautiful eyes of hers were so full of life, so mischievous - He was more and more curious how would she react to seeing a man flayed before her. “The Queen of the Moon.” the man gingerly held her chin, leaning it down, enough to plant a kiss on her forehead.

The next day, after a hearty breakfast, they were to have a ride through the forest, along with her brothers. Willas preferred to stay on the side and have good chats with his father and the other two Lords, while Garlan was already out with his Lady wife. That left Margaery to entertain Sansa, who didn’t want to get her dress dirty in the woods, even though she would have gladly ridden with Loras. At least, with Margaery, who was her age, she could chat for hours and walk through the gardens.

Arya, however, jumped up and down in excitement and insisted she rides with Y/N, who could only chuckle and agree, despite Robb and Jon shaking their head at the young girl’s stubbornness. 

The young ones had a lot of fun, riding and hunting game, then at night, the royal kitchen would make a feast from their triumphant victory. Unfortunately for everyone, the retinue had to return back home after a week, and though it felt like barely a few moments had passed, it was time for them to leave...

But not without the Stark Lord inviting the Highgarden Lord and his children over in the North - The reasons mattered little - Y/N was more than excited to see the beauty of the North, as Ramsay had described it, especially after he, himself, had invited the girl while in private. Since the day that the envoy left, Y/N was all over her father, telling him to start preparing for the long journey up the King’s Road, all the way to Winterfell.

Moments passed like hours, hours like days and days like weeks, and than months, but finally, after far too many months of waiting, Mace Tyrell allowed his eldest daughter to go first up North, for a brief journey towards the Dreadfort - Though the man wasn’t too happy that his sweet Y/N has become smitten with a bastard, he knew very well that Lord Bolton was the second most powerful man in the North, and was fighting hard to get his son ligitimised. He hated the idea of settling for second best, but at the same time, his darling had never been status-ambitious like her grandmother or her youngest sister, preferring to enjoy life to the fullest - And, of course, how could he deny his darling Y/N the freedom of falling in love, something all nobles had been prived of for so many centuries on end? Though she has never proven to be a romantic, Mace and Alerie both hoped that, just like her twin brother, Y/N would meet a man that will make her feel like a maiden from the bards’ love stories, like Florian and Jonquil.

Y/N was warmly welcomed in the Dreadfort by none other than the Snow boy himself, who wore a large, excited smile on his face, and he gallantly invited the lady inside the humble abode, as he called it - How could he compare his small fort to the gracious palace of the Highgarden, after all? Not wealth, nor grandeur could come anywhere close to what he had witnessed in the beautiful South.

However much Ramsay wished to get her inside, out of the harsh cold that was reddening her cheeks even more so than the red roses that grew wild, as soon as she heard the squealing of dogs, she found herself rushing towards the kennels. There, Ramsay noticed, she completely ignored Myranda’s presence and ran past her, to the kennel of one bitch that had just gave birth less than a month ago. “My~... Aren’t you so beautiful?” the bastard watched the fascination emanating from the girl - Did she truly love dogs so much, he wondered? Was she maybe that much of an innocent girl, and he misjudged her? “Do you have a death wish, or are you just plain dumb?!” Myranda angrily shrieked at the beautiful lady, shocked at how boldly she knelt by the bitch’s side. “You don’t just go next to a bitch that just gave birth! It will think you’re trying to harm her pups and she will attack you. It’s common knowledge!” however much Ramsay wanted to slap Myranda for speaking with such insolence with his sweet flower, he couldn’t help but notice Y/N taking her furs off and creating a blanket for the dog and her puppies.  “There, there, you must be cold, aren’t you, darling? All better now, isn’t it? Sweet lady, you must eat well and keep warm if you and your babies want to keep strong.” he watched as the dog sniffed Y/N’s palm, only to lean its head onto it... Acting like a spoiled pup, melting in the caring, loving touch of the nurturing lady.  “Wh-What the hell are you doing -- Are you insane?! You can’t -- You can’t just -- That’s our most aggressive bitch, you can’t just tame her like that, she’ll become useless!” the kennel master’s daughter roughly grabbed at Lady Tyrell’s dress, pulling her away from the dogs - Though much surprising was that the bitch rose and started growling menacingly at her. Myranda could only stare at the bitch in shock and slight fear - None of the dogs ever dared growl at her, let alone snarl and bare their fangs at her. She was the dog whisperer! The one tasked with taking care of her beloved Lord Ramsay’s precious bitches! How dare that... That whore interfere! How dare she mess everything?! “Myranda.” the woman froze, feeling complete dread take over her senses. “It is clear that Lady Tyrell here is far more competent with dogs than you, the kennel master’s own daughter, are.” a bead of sweat ran down her forehead from the sheer pressure of his stern, ice-cold voice. “If even the dogs are going against you for your silly mistake, then I believe you should leave for the day. I and Lady Y/N will be taking care of them for now.” “B-But R-Ramsay, I-- I--... Sh-She---” the skinny woman’s otherwise dominant and harsh eyes became wide with fear as her master stepped closer to her, those gargoyle-like eyes staring deep into her soul, and for a second there, she could see herself being flayed alive. “Leave.” he ordered. “I will think of a proper punishment later.” with a flick of his gloved hand, Myranda whimpered and ran out of the kennels. Ramsay took a deep breath before kneeling by Y/N’s side. “Forgive her, My Lady, she overreacted. She wasn’t aware of who you are, otherwise she wouldn’t have spoken out of line.” Y/N smiled softly at him, before pulling him towards the dog. “It is quite alright, I don’t mind. In fact, it was I who was in the wrong. Lady Myranda tried to warn me, though my recklessness could have cost me my hand, or perhaps worse.” Ramsay looked into those glimmering eyes, and without much thinking, he grasped her chin and forced her to look at him - It earned a growl from the bitch, though Y/N pat her head enough to calm her down. “Incompetent slaves ought to be reprimanded and put in their place, My Sweet Lady, otherwise they grow bold and misbehave.” his tone changed to a more whispery one, which only seemed to grow her own smile. “It is not up to me to reprimand a servant that is not of mine own, especially as she simply tried to save me from a sure mauling.” he could see the corner of her mouth twitch upwards, just a little bit. “After all... Slaves and bastards aren’t too different in the eyes of the people, are they?” Ramsay’s eyes seemed to flash, grabbing her face closer to his, only for the dog to outright bark at him. “My Beautiful Lady resembles the flower with her own name - Beautiful, yet poisonous and deadly. Perhaps I ought to reconsider the nickname I address you as.” “Sweet Ramsay, I think Lady Dog is trying to tell you that you should be more gentle with me.” she softly put her hand over his, releasing the grasp on her face. “After all, I’m just a little lady, frail as a flower, and afraid of getting hurt.” “Do you even believe your own lies, My Lady?” Y/N smiled at him, tilting her head to the side, completely innocent - Though Ramsay knew that sparkle in her eyes very well - It was a challenge - She was provoking him. “You once called me the Queen of the Moon, Sweet Ramsay - It wouldn’t bode well for you to treat me any less than that.” the man scoffed, an amused smirk on his face as he took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders, bringing her closer to his body. “Flowers freeze in this cold, My Lady. You should come inside and warm yourself up. You must be tired after such a long journey, and Myranda’s less than optimal behaviour wasn’t the greeting that a princess like you deserves.” the man helped her up, and with a hand placed on the middle of her back, he guided her inside the unexpectedly warm fort, into a cozy room, clean and already warm. “I will have the servants bring you dinner here. The maids will know better than I, the kind of hospitality that a lady needs.” he bowed his head at her slightly, watching as she went for the window, and she looked outside, a serene look on her face. “Does it mean that you’re already leaving me alone? Well - I suppose I won’t mind much. The view here is spectacular - And I have some puppies to care for, and books plenty to read. I doubt I’ll get bored, even without your great company.” she hummed, not even sparing him a single glance. “Your room is across mine own.” she needn’t look at him to feel the forming smirk on his face. “For any reason you wish to see me, I will be at your disposal, whatever hour of the day or night, my sweet lady.” “That is a proposal that I will be taking to heart. Thank you for such lovely and warm hospitality, my sweet Ramsay, I appreciate your kindness and care for me.” she turned to him, holding her hand over her heart. “It is my first time here, up North, after all.” he was so smitten with that soft, tender voice of hers - But more, he was head over heels with the mystery hidden behind that angelic facade of hers. “By all means, my lady. Although the North isn’t as wealthy and welcoming as the South, we still strive to show its beauty, for there is plenty.” with a charming smile, Ramsay left the room, allowing the girl to be attended to by the maid.

The maid was Myranda, Y/N realised with great amusement, and she was nowhere near as talkative as before, when she’d snapped at her. Y/N smiled sweetly at the dog caretaker, but it wasn’t difficult to realise that the reason for her muteness was the emotion she was failing so miserably to hide. She was so jealous. 

Was it her wealth? Her beauty and grace? Her noble status? - Or, perhaps, it was Ramsay’s evident interest in the Tyrell girl that she was so envious of. Either way, it didn’t matter - Y/N was loving the torment storming behind those blue eyes - Those eyes of her were kinda pretty, Y/N thought, yet they somehow became incredibly dull on her. They didn’t fit her. She was dull.

With the expected curtesy, Myranda brought the tray of food and beverages inside the room, placing it carefully on the table next to the fireplace, yet despite how annoyingly chatty she previously was - Now, she remained silent. Good. Her voice was rather grating.

“My Lady.” unfortunately, she had to open mouth of hers - Y/N noticed she had applied some make up, and her lips were deep, blood red. Awful colour on her. “My Lord asked me to draw a bath for you after you’ve eaten.” “Very well, you may do so.” the Tyrell beauty sat at the table and kept herself busy by reading a book whilst eating the tasty dishes. The meat was unexpectedly tender - Y/N was sure this must be some kind of venison done with a secret recipe that they didn’t have in the South. It was perfectly delicious, and the text was rather interesting - If only Myranda’s presence hadn’t been such a hindrance... At least her maids were better company and knew when to give her the much needed quiet, alone time that she so greatly needed - It was such a chore, engaging in social interactions. “You are very beautiful, My Lady. Where are you from, if I may ask?” Myranda spoke, sniffing the powerful, sweet floral perfume. “Highgarden.” one of Y/N’s maids spoke in her stead, not wanting their lady to be interrupted whilst busy. “Lady Y/N Tyrell is the most beautiful maiden in the Reach.” Leana smiled dearly at her lady. “Ah!” Y/N snapped her head towards her friend. “Margy is!” Leana’s smile widened. “My Lady, forgive me for disagreeing with you - Whilst Lady Margaery is, indeed, the Rose of Highgarden, I cannot help but find your beauty above any word from every vocabulary in Westeros, and beyond.” “You flatter me so, my sweet Leana, you needn’t!” Y/N hid her flustered face with the book she was reading. “There were others before you. All of them just as beautiful, or maybe even more than you.” Myranda’s eerily soothing voice spoke, her fingers tracing the water, feeling its temperature. “You are not that special to him... My Lady.” she offered Lady Tyrell a small, venomous smile. “Lord Ramsay gets bored very quickly.” Whilst Leana was ready to speak up and defend her lady, Y/N simply smiled sweetly at Myranda, gesturing for her maid to remain quiet. “Is that so? Thank you, I will keep that in mind, erh--...” Y/N smiled wider, taunting her. “What was your name again? Meera? Maria?” “Myranda, My Lady.” the girl almost snapped. Y/N let out a small ‘ah’ sound, though the kennel master could see that she was acting. “Right. A name as dull as you. It fits you!” she said. “Will you tell me about these ladies that preceded me, then?” Y/N could see the way Myranda was trying so hard not to break her composure, and with each twitch of her face, she was feeling more and more ecstatic. “Let’s see... There was Kyra, the blacksmith’s daughter. She was taller than you, with a lovely figure... But... She talked, and... Talked and talked... And Ramsay grew tired of that.” Myranda spoke, adding more boiled water to the tub. “And then there was Violet... She had gorgeous blonde hair... Well... She got pregnant, and - That was boring.” she chuckled lightly. “Then... Tansy... Such a sweet girl, much like you.” Myranda grinned. “Of course, sweet girls get a bit... Dull... After a while, don’t they?” she stared deep into Y/N’s eyes, hoping to see the fright and alert. There was nothing but twinkling of amusement. “Ramsay let me come with him on that hunt.” “Then, when is it your turn?” Myranda’s smile faltered in surprise. “I wonder if I need to do anything more than batting my pretty lashes at him, to let me come to your hunt. I’m a pretty good shot, you know, he even praised me when we went hunting last month.” she giggled sweetly.  “Just because you’re a new hyper-obsession of his, doesn’t mean you’ll last. They all exhausted their use fairly quick. It’s their fault for being boring. Noble women like you, especially, are the most dull of all. No personality, no interests - You just sit in a corner, have a pretty smile and you embroider some handkerchief.” Myranda shot to her feet immediately, not realising her outburst. “If I’m the new obsession, it just means you’re old news. Remember how he scolded you earlier today? He didn’t seem too happy with you. Were you... Jealous, Marla?” the woman spat her name again, correcting her. “Ah, yes, forgive me - It is not easy remembering such a stale name.”  “He promised to marry me! Ramsay always kept his promises to me!” she almost looked like a bratty child, with angry tears making her eyes gleam. “And you truly believed that?” Y/N widened her eyes, letting out a fake, dramatic gasp as she got up and called for Leana to unlace her dress. “Oh, sweet girl, how naive must you be - So blind and deaf, so muddle-headed, to think that the man who’s trying to get himself legitimised as the next Lord Bolton would actually spare you another glance once he gets that title and will realise how absolutely tiresome your ugly jealousy is. He won’t have any time for the silly temper tantrums of a dumb, little girl who thinks she is going to marry the man of her dreams.” Y/N hummed in amusement, feeling the water-like material of her dress falling down to the ground, revealing her gorgeous silhouette and harmonious curves in all their glory, only to take in another sharp inhale, once she noticed the gears of Myranda’s brain working, fear and doubt overwhelming her, as well as a sense of perfect inferiority, seeing the Goddess body of the Tyrell woman. “No, don’t tell me...” she said, pitying her. “You thought that... By offering him your flower, he was truly going to commit to you? Oh, darling, you sweet, sweet girl - How foolish can you get? Don’t you know that mundane, predictable thoughts like these are...” Y/N grinned wickedly, making Myranda’s blood freeze in her bloodstream. “Boring.”

Myranda felt her heart stop, and with a kind of uneasiness that she hasn’t felt in a long time, she quickly left the room, allowing Y/N and her maids to giggle and continue gossiping and making fun of the kennel master’s daughter. What a delusional girl.

Y/N stepped into the hot water and allowed the steam to soothe her tired muscles, just allowing her maid to clean her and oil her with the sweetest perfumes that the South can create. Once it got late enough into the night, Y/N, wearing a light sleeping gown that would have been perfect for the Reach, yet not so much for the chilly nights of the North - Draping herself in furs yet remaining barefoot, she swiftly stepped out of the room and with a soft knock, she creaked open the door, calling out his name. “Sweet Ramsay, are you awake?” He must have been asleep, as he hadn’t answered to her whispery voice - It only made Y/N bolder, closing the door behind her and quietly tip-toe to his bed. His pretty face was being illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the window, though Y/N could only stare at the man sleeping without his shirt, and she felt a cold shiver down her spine - Were all Northmen so cold resistant, she wondered.

She crouched by his face and trailed the back of her fingers by his sculpted jaw. He looked so peaceful and innocent sleeping, it was like he was a whole other person. “My Sweet Ramsay, are you having nice dreams?” Unexpectedly, her hand got grabbed, and with outstanding force and another hand on her body, she got pulled into the man’s tight arms. “They are, now that you’re here.” his low, husky voice spoke. “Were you missing me so much that you couldn’t sleep, my sweet flower?” “Yes.” she breathed out, already feeling her body warm under the furs, held flush against his hot body. “So genuine. Very endearing.” Y/N could feel his body shaking softly from one attractive chuckle. “You were cold, weren’t you?” “O, you’ve found me out!” she nuzzled in the crook of his neck. “I didn’t mean to appear as though I’m trying to make use of you... Though I cannot deny that I am already feeling so much better.” “Had that useless wench forgotten to do the fire in your room?” the man grumbled. “That must have been my fault - I think I upset Lady Myranda with my teasing. She walked away with tears in her eyes. I called her name, but... I think I really made her sad. Forgive me, sweet Ramsay.” that sickly sweet voice of hers only made him scoff in mock amusement. “Whatever you said to her, she’ll get over it.” he seemed harsh. “There is no wrong you can do here, especially against some slave girl that can’t even do her job right.” “Please, sweet Ramsay, don’t be so harsh with her - It is not her fault that she is still dreaming like a little girl.” the man hummed questioningly. “She was so happy, speaking about you, I couldn’t help but tease her a little - You know, like friends. Alas, I think I must have gone a bit over board for someone who isn’t as close to me as any of my friends back home.” “What kind of idiocy has she bored you with?” Ramsay was now wide awake, already thinking of a way to punish that stupid slut.  “No, No, my darling, love is not something boring, nor is the sweet promise of a happy marriage!” Y/N shifted up, resting on her forearms to get a better look at the man. “She seemed so delighted, thinking about you and your future together. It was so precious, mind you.” Ramsay remained quiet for a few seconds. “You have gone quiet, sweet Ramsay - Have I... Bored you already?” The man took a sharp breath, his hands finding their rightful place, cupping her cheeks. “You could never bore me, My Sweet Flower. I was just wondering the extent of Myranda’s delusions. Stupid girl believes everything anyone tells her - It’s as if she is incapable of thinking.” “Ahh, no wonder she was so convinced you loved her the most.” Ramsay was almost fascinated with the way she pretended to care for Myranda’s feelings, but the mocking sweet tone with which she was talking only made it even more amusing, were it not for the internal anger he felt simply thinking about that wretch. “Did she speak ill of you in any way?” he asked, his voice almost showing his rage and how close he was to marching up and wringing her neck like a pigeon’s. “Oh no, not at all! Though she did mention some other ladies. One tall with a lovely figure, though very talkative. The other, she said, got pregnant... And the last one was a sweet girl, just like me - And, just like me, she was also incredibly boring - Or so Myranda described them. Ah... What were their names... Forgive me, I cannot remember their names... No, wait - I think one of them was... Kyra? Was she the blacksmith’s daughter? Ah, yes, she was the talkative one, who talked so much that she bored you to death... Just like I am, right now...” she stopped speaking abruptly, turning her head to the side as though to mimic guilt and shame. “If anyone speaks too much is Myranda, not you.” Ramsay got in a sitting position, dragging her up with him. “Has she also told you what I did with them, once I got bored of them? Has she threatened you?” “I’m very happy to know that I’m not disinteresting you with how much I’m chatting - You see, I’m used to talking so much with people I like, I tend to forget all courtesies.” she, inching closer to him.  “Speak as much as you will, I find not only your voice, but your words also, to be enticing and worth hearing.” the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Myranda told me about these... Hunts you’re attending. She did say you allowed her to join you once, and I... Was wondering if you’d entertain me also with such activity. I believe I proved my sharpshooter skills last month.” she leaned in so close to his face that he could almost feel her plump lips touching his. “Oh, sweet lady, if only you knew what that implied, you wouldn’t be wearing that innocent smile on this perfect face of yours.” his chuckle sent shivers down her spine. “But I do know, my darling. I do know.” his eyebrows slowly rose up in surprise. “I don’t need the image of a small, pink, flayed man to know that your hunts must hold some kind of peculiarity that would serve as entertainment.” she smiled more. “Are those lovely dogs involved too?” The air was punched out of his lungs - How can someone so perfectly angelic, so seemingly innocent, this noble lady that’s supposed to be frail like a flower - She was speaking so tenderly and sweet about hunting people! She was an oxymoron, and he, was in love with her. “I want you to come for every hunt from now on, my Moon Queen.” That happy smile, along with the soft pink painting her cheeks, only made his heart beat so, so fast in anticipation. “Can we have Myranda’s hunt soon?” that venomous sweetness was enough to drive the bastard over the edge, and instinctively he grabbed her hips and brought her over his lap, pulling her flush against his chest. Her slender legs straddling him, and the way she felt against his pelvis only made him grow wilder and his grip on her flesh got tighter. He wasn’t thinking when he tried to slam his lips against her own, nor did he realise that instead of those petals, his mouth came in contact with her palm. Through his bewilderment, he noticed that vixen-like grin of hers, unreadable and enigmatic. “Sweet Ramsay, you are running so fast to action, you’re intimidating me. I am not Kyra, nor Violet or Tansy... And least of all, not your dearest Myranda. Are you trying to scare a little maiden such as myself?” Slowly she removed her hand, gazing at the man’s beautiful blue eyes. “Could it be that you’re intentionally trying to get a rise out of me? “ “Is it working?” the way she tilted her head to the side so cutely made him want to throw her down on the bed and claim her. “It is.” he admitted, his jaw gritted down as a way of holding back his animalistic urges. “Good!” that cheeky, chirpy way she exclaimed drove him mad, as she rolled to the side and cuddled into him. “Will you keep me warm, sweet Ramsay?” “Every night, my sweet lady.”

How was he supposed to keep his hands from lingering down that warm skin of hers, or hold back from having his fingers grip down on her flesh so hard that it left bruises, all due to his insatiable desire for her? If she was just any slave girl from the North, he could have shackled her down and claimed her in any way he so imagined - And only the Gods knew how very creative he was when it came to the pleasure-taking he was crazy over... But Y/N was from an affluent family, renowned all over Westeros and far beyond, second only to the Lannisters. Even if he wanted to re-enact all his perverse fantasies about this mischievous little vixen, he knew there will be hell to pay, and any claim of legitimacy would be thrown out the window.

Still, she didn’t seem opposed to getting intimately close to him in the least - She showed no signs of fear when she implied hunting down Myranda, nor did she seem intimidated by the bitch’s failed attempts of taunting her - More, she made her cry, if the story was as true as she claimed it to be, and truly, he was disappointed that he wasn’t there to watch the interaction go. He long knew how annoyingly jealous Myranda was of any girl that he bedded or showed any kind of personal interest in, going as far as to sabotage them, and more - But she was beginning, at a rapid pace even, to get stale, and no amount of perversion or unheard of pleasing methods could save her from her fate if she continued to whine about any silly little thing.

Y/N was different - He could read what she was thinking, and the games she played were far more interesting. She was fun to be around, and that innocent act of hers, pretending to be a small and naive little bunny, all righteous and benevolent was nothing more than the beauty of a rose with poisoned thorns. Here she lay, her body softly going up and down with each of her inhales and exhales, as she slept so peacefully, nuzzled to his side, just like a fawn cuddling with a predator ready to tear her apart - But she trusted the killer wouldn’t harm her. Was it because of her status? Her family? Or simply, she could feel how taken he was with her, from the very first second that his eyes met hers and he saw that playful and slightly illicit twinkle in those beautiful eyes of hers?

For a whole week he will have her all for himself, yet at arm length; So close, yet so very far away, and no matter how much he wanted to snatch that beautiful, blooming flower of hers, he was forcefully held back, shackled to the wall and left to drip with lust like a ferocious wolf watching a lamb with snow-white fleece, prance around fearing no danger in the world.

Patience was never one strong suit of his, but now, he had to be. He cared little that Y/N Tyrell was a noble woman and being with her would help his claims at legitimacy, and he cared even less that he had to marry a woman of status whilst having promised the flock of girls surrounding him already his heart. He had no heart - And even if he did, it was already taken by the sheep wearing wolf’s clothing and strutting around him, just closely out of reach. He wanted to eat her whole, and then some more. He wanted to drink her honey and feast on her strawberry tarts, sickly sweet yet so addicting. He wanted to hear her sing the thrills of the nightingales every night as he looks down from above her, and he wants to feel the way her body dances involutarily from the pleasure he offers her. 

And most of all, he wanted to see that pleasure-drunk expression of hers, all bashful as she’s driven off the edge, and while she tries to hide from shame, he’s going to force her to look him straight into his eyes and drink in her gasps and moans with another kiss, feeling her stiff body gradually grow lax in his arms, seeing only the stars, and him amongst them.

Their sharing of not only a room but the bed also continued for the rest of the week, without Y/N even bothering to blame Myranda’s lack of brain for the coldness of her own dormitory - She has made it clear already that she simply wanted to display a pretext to sleep with him, and Ramsay was more than thrilled with such a notion - After all, it wasn’t often that he fell asleep and woke up to the same woman, beautiful above all and enticing as very select few.

Still, if Ramsay could feel jealousy, it would be on his own dogs, though he’d rather say he was feeling as territorial as his bitches, yet maybe not even then. He was more than content to see someone actually capable of bonding with his dogs as well as he did, while also being obeyed so well. One would think the daughter of the kennel master would know dogs better than human - Alas, Myranda was capable of none of those - But Y/N was, and that mattered most.

“There, there, mommy, you and your sweet puppies have to stay comfortable and warm. The cold of the North is very harsh, even if you’re used to it.” the mother dog whined, happy, as she was being spoiled, kissed and caressed by the woman. Y/N continued praising and loving the dog, and though she was a large breed with long, thick, black hair, looking more like a bear than a dog, she had the cutest name - Faye. Y/N wondered who Faye was, before she was killed - How did she get so dull that Ramsay had her kill, who was she while still alive, how did she look and so on. “Beautiful, sweet Faye, you are so loved, my darling.” she was so absorbed in her pampering of the canine that she didn’t hear the intruder stepping towards them until it was too late. “You stupid girl - These are hunting dogs, not pets! They are supposed to stay vicious, starved, to mauls and rip apart the prey... Not... Not this - Whatever this is! You’ve ruined them! Ruined the whole batch and the bitch!” Myranda’s glare was as harsh as the wind that was blowing outside. “I beg to disagree Myranda, though I can see why it would seem offensive, considering you were born and raised among dogs. You see - Fear is a double-edged sword when it comes to obedience. Dogs may be loyal, but fear is fickle. They can always turn on you, if pushed enough. If you treat them well, they will treat you just as well, but tenfold. Just like people.” Y/N smiled defiantly at her, only making her growl as well as any mutt. “Why did you come here?! To steal my man? To steal my job? You’re already so rich that you don’t know what to do with your wealth - Did you come here specifically to bring me misery and rob me of anything I have?!” Myranda’s yelling only proved to make the dog snarl at her as a warning. “Even the dogs hate me now - Because of you!” “Once again, I’m inclined to disagree, mostly because... Living beings aren’t property and Ramsay was never yours. If you want to play technicalities, it was you who was his, not the other way around - Even more, you were... Naive enough to believe he would actually marry you. Silly girl, you don’t know him half as well as you think you do.” the Tyrell’s mocking smile proved enough to drive the other one off the edge of her sanity, and she took out a dagger from her waist and tried to push her away to get ahold of the pups and kill them. What a stupid move, Y/N thought as she grabbed her arm and tried to wrestle her off. “Have you gone mad?! How could you do that?!” “GET OFF ME, YOU STUPID WHORE! I’M GETTING RID OF ANY LINGER OF YOUR PRESENCE IN THIS PLACE - BEGINNING WITH THIS LOT, AND NEXT - YOU!” Myranda’s growls echoed through the humid kennels as she tried to launch at the dogs once more, but the noblewoman leapt up to shield them, her shoulder proving the stabbing point of the blade.  “Leave, Myranda! Get out and calm yourself - You’re being irrational!” Faye, too, jumped to her paws and started aggressively roaring at the attacker, ready to maul her off the same as she did for her namesake - But she stopped, as soon as another pair of steps seemed to bother the squaffle between the two women.

Ramsay’s blue eyes, usually frozen as the water of the North, were now blazing with pure rage - How dare that whore attempt to kill his beautiful Y/N? Did she have a death wish and had no clue how to act upon it? He had as many inventive killing methods, as he had pleasuring ones, and perhaps even more - Myranda, of all people, the expendable woman who lasted the longest so far should have known best. “Myranda.” his voice seemed even colder than the weather outside, and the woman seemed to submissively let the knife drop with a loud, resounding clank, as she stepped away with tearful eyes. “M-My Love...! Y-You’re here! You - You have to see what she’s done, she -- She was trying to TAME the girls, she -- She was SPOILING them! She was RUINING them! My love, you must do something about this--” even louder than the sound the dagger made, the slap which she received was enough to make even Y/N flinch, watching Myranda painfully fall to the ground like a sack of potatoes. “M-My love...?!” she seemed absolutely betrayed - What a delusional woman. “You have been testing my patience recently, Myranda. If I’d known you were suicidal, I’d have killed you already. Not only you bore me to death, you also piss me off. That’s a worse transgression than either of those before you. I’ve been merciful and understanding with you so far, but I’ve reached my limit.” Myranda, terrified out of her mind, scrambled over to embrace his feet, only to get kicked in the face and made to fly backwards. She was crying rivers. “Don’t touch me with those filthy hands of yours.” he sneered at her.

Leaving her to grovel on the ground, Ramsay stepped in front of his beloved and carefully touched her bleeding shoulder. He slipped off the material of her dress, only to hear the large dog snarling at him. “Shhh, sweetling, don’t worry, he means no harm to me. Thank you for protecting me, my sweet Faye.” Ramsay watched the tender way with which she was praising the dog, and petting her hair. Maternal bitches were fickle and dangerous, yet with Y/N, Faye seemed completely loyal. Good. “Come. I’ll treat it for you.” he spoke gently to her, hoping the harshness of his tone had completely dissipated. Y/N worriedly looked down at Myranda - the Bastard realised she was afraid not for her, but for the neurotic behaviour she displayed as she tried to attack the pups. “I don’t trust her around Faye and her puppies. I don’t want them to get injured because of her.” “THE DOGS ARE TAINTED BECAUSE OF YOU! YOU RUINED THEM!” before Myranda could recover the knife, Y/N already kicked it away - Though the woman was so far gone that she tackled her to the ground, yelling all sorts of perversions and curses as she tried to get ahold of the noble lady’s throat and squeeze the life out of her. Before Ramsay could rip her off, and throw her in the dungeons to punish later, Faye leapt sprung on her and threw her off her new master, chewing at her arms and legs. “Faye! Sweetling, stop, come here - Faye! Leave her be!” much to the bastard’s shock, the dog obeyed immediately and went to the lady’s side, licking at her wound and standing protectively over here. “There, there, sweet girl. Clever girl. You are fantastic.” Ramsay almost felt jealous, with the amount of kisses the bitch was receiving, but the fact still stood - The dog’s loyalty changed in the course of five days. Myranda was the enemy, whilst Y/N was the loving master whom the dog obeyed. Fascinating. He wasn’t sure if the dog could sense the kindness and purity of her soul, or simply, behaved like any manipulated human - But whatever it was that Y/N was doing, she was doing perfectly fine, the same as when she captured his interest and made him fawn over her so completely. “Faye, stand down girl. I’ll take care of Y/N for you.” he felt compelled to offer the dog a few pats on her head, and surprisingly, she licked his hand affectionately - It must have been the way he was always by Y/N’s side whenever she spoiled the dogs, why Faye now possibly saw him as this benevolent master all of a sudden - It was even better than he expected. “As for you, Myranda...” he glared down with disgust at the cowering woman. “Make yourself comfortable in the dungeons.” she whimpered, afraid of the consequences of her own actions. Y/N has completely bewitched her beloved Ramsay Snow. She ruined him.

As Y/N sat on the edge of his bed, her bare shoulder being carefully treated by the man with unexpected delicacy and tenderness - He wasn’t even aware that he, Ramsay Snow, the feared bastard of the North, kneeling in front of her, was capable of something like this... But somehow, it felt... Good. It felt... Natural, like this was how things were supposed to go. He was to protect his fair maiden, and she was to look at him with those pretty eyes of hers, bat her lashes so bashfully and offer him a timid smile. “Does it hurt, my sweet flower?” he looked in her eyes so deep... Deep enough, as he wished he would be buried in her already. “You are very attentive with me, my dear, there is nothing that can hurt if it is you caring for me.” was she using such words to purposely throw him off the rails? Did she want to be thrown on the bed and claimed on the spot? To have her sweet flower taken from her - And that he’ll be gentle with her, and loving, and will make sure it won’t hurt at all? “My intention is to make sure you’re never going to experience anything negative, especially pain. I will deal with that wench later.” he found himself gulping - The more he looked at the unveiled skin, the more he wanted to rip the thin material of her dress and see her in all her glory. “You will have to excuse Myranda. She... Was not in the right state of mind. It cannot be easy for her to accept that... Well... She might still have some more to learn.” Ramsay could see how she tried to find the rights words as to not outright shade the bitch who attacked her, and still maintain that darling facade of hers. “Stop trying to protect her.” he snapped at her. “She knows the rules. If she breaks them, it is her own fault.” Ramsay didn’t realise the edge of his voice until it was too late. “Forgive my tone, My Lady, I didn’t mean to scare you.” But she wasn’t scared, he noticed - Instead, she smiled at him, almost as though it enticed her. “There is nothing to forgive, my sweet Ramsay, after all, you simply spoke your mind - And you are right - She is your servant, and you know  best the way to discipline them. She is old enough to know how to play this game, and if she was too incompetent to get a grip, it is her own fault. I will not attempt to shield her again from any scolding you’d wish to instill upon her.” Y/N could feel Ramsay’s hands stop working on her wound, and after wrapping it up properly, he rose to his feet, cupping her face. “Then, would you join me in her hunt, after we’ve returned from Winterfell?” that sweet, excited smile of hers made his heart beat so fast that it made his mind go hazy - More, his brain completely stopped working once she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Her soft lips were even softer than the flowers, and so plump - He never kissed such sweet lips before, nor has he ever been as addicted to kissing a woman as he was with her, after a single kiss. “I would be honoured to join you, my sweet Ramsay.” though he tried to dive in for another kiss, desperate as a thirsty man in the desert, she ducked under his arm and twirled around away from him, a vixen like smile turning his nether regions aflame. “One at a time, sweet Ramsay - One at a time. I wouldn’t want you to get used to quickly to the sweet fragrance of the Moon’s Queen.” her giggle as she waltzed out of the room almost made him lose his balance - What the hell was she doing to him? Maybe Myranda was right, she was destroying and eroding away at his mind to the point of manipulation - Was she manipulating him? Maybe she was, but he didn’t mind anymore - He needed her like he never needed anything else - And one day, he was going to have her for himself, and never share her with anyone else. Y/N Tyrell was his and only his.

Once the week was over, the Tyrell family were finally moving towards the colder regions of the Seven Kingdoms, all the way to the castle of the Stark family, after stopping to the Dreadfort to collect the eldest daughter. Though cold and snowing, the landscapes were already so beautiful, despite how different they looked from back home. The cold shades of green, white, grey and blue were fantastically blended together into such a picturesque framed painting made by the best artists.

The journey was long and tedious, but it was well worth once they arrived to their destination - They were welcomed very warmly, especially by the children, and were shown their rooms. Y/N and Margaery were also shown the hot baths, so they could relax after such a long ride, and they could use it every time they wished to. The feast was rich and very delicious, but something was missing - A certain Bastard from the Dreadfort, who was to arrive the following day - Why he hadn’t joined Y/N, she was not yet aware, but he promised a surprise, to keep her excited and expecting.

The very next day, Y/N was awaiting the untimely arrival of her favourite bastard by doing the most boring things - Giving embroidery lessons to Sansa, Arya, Jeyne and her sister, made by Lady Catelyn and their Septa. How absolutely terrible, doing nothing but embroidering handkerchiefs and dresses. Dull.

When finally, the Sun went down and allowed the majestic moon rise up, the retinue was invited to the feast - And down there, already waiting at a table, was him - The man with brunet hair and the most piercing blue eyes - He had risen his head to scan the commotion, and upon seeing the girl, a smirk had taken place over his previously bland expression. Getting to his feet, he stepped in front of Lady Y/N and bent at the waist, taking her hand and kissing it. Had she gotten more attractive in the time they were apart, or was he simply missing her too much? It has been barely three days - Why was he so addicted to her?

Just like before, the children were sat at a table, to enjoy the merry feast, the singing and the laughter - But feasts were just that, feasts - And Y/N had always thought feasts were boring as all hells, and she was in grave need of entertainment.

“Sweet Ramsay, you once promised to show me the ethereal, vivid lights of the sky that only the North hosts. Let us slip away from this banquet and have a walk, shall we?” young Y/N whispered into the ear of the bastard, only to get up and leave the halls of the Stark feast, hoping that the brunet wouldn’t take too long to follow - And thankfully, he didn’t, for he was right by her side, with his furs over her, seeing as she shivered once she came in contact with the harsh, cold wind. “Your health comes first, My Lady. If it gets too cold for you, we can always return on the morrow, there is no rush.” Ramsay had his arm around her small form, keeping her flushed to his side, under the pretense of keeping her warm. “Alright, alright, that is quite the bargain. Is it far from here?” she kept trying to imagine the snowy cliff that he described days and months prior, but no matter how much she tried, nothing compared to the crystal-like sparkle of the snow as it reflected the silvery light. “Careful steps, My Lady, the ground is frozen and you might slip.” he pointed out, keeping a tight grip on her, worrying with every wobble she’d make. “How darling of you, my dear... Oh, this forest is gorgeous! This green amongst all this fluffy snow... How lovely!” her excited admiring came to a halt soon. “... Ah! Not so lovely when it’s so cold...” the girl eeped as the snow from one of the branches fell onto her head, mixing with her hair as if it was a flower crown. “How clumsy of you, Lady Y/N. Thankfully, we have arrived. Be very careful, the cliff is steep and there is a lake right underneath.” the man warned as he guided her onto the cliff.

As soon as she stepped out of the woods, she gasped and looked up - The dark blue sky was painted with such a vivid palette of colours that she’s never seen even in the most renowned paintings all over Westeros, or far beyond. The way they undulated in the sky, and how, with the scenery, it almost seemed as if a soft lullaby was playing in tune with every move.

Ramsay told her an old tale that, up there, the lights represent the running souls of every animal that ever lived here, in the North, and that it plays with its kin forevermore. The more he spoke, the more fascinated the girl was, and with that, her eyes sparkled even brighter than the moon and stars combined. How could a creature be so beautiful, in her own innocence? And, most of all, why doesn’t he want to break and taint her? Why doesn’t he want to rip her apart and destroy any ounce of hope and happiness embroidered in that heart of hers?

Instead, he reached his hands up to her hair and kicked some of the snow off, letting only a circlet of frozen flowers around her hair. He gazed down, deep into her eyes that were shining with more life and bliss than he’s ever experienced before in his entire life. He wanted to drink her in like the sweetest ale there was and never let her go. “I may not be able to make you a true Queen, however, My Lady, if you would have me, I would love for you to be my Moon’s Queen. A flower more beautiful than any other around her.” though she looked absolutely mesmerised, she leaned in and shared a sweet kiss with the northman, whose cold hands warmed as he held gingerly her soft face. “I have been rather spoiled until this age, I must say. Not only I had no betrothal obligation, but I could freely pursue any of my passions. I would love nothing more than to call you mine own sweet love, though I have not asked for permission from mine Lord Father. I... I dare not go against his kindness.” though her response was timid, the man before her merely kissed her forehead reassuringly. “Worry not about such trivialities, my sweetling. If you so desire, all shall be taken care of.” his heart was beating so fast, just like an obsessed child that finally got the toy he wanted so badly - He felt absolutely on fire with so many emotions that he couldn’t even name. He felt so powerfully that he could almost feel his fingers digging into her flesh to the point of grinding her bones. It was such a strong feeling of possessiveness - Having Y/N being HIS was like a dream, and he was not going to let anyone take her away from him. ”The reason for arriving so late was that we were awaiting a letter from the King.” he spoke, and on his face, a wide grin that looked almost boyish graced his features. “It is long since I have awaited the good news to come - So long, that I feared they may never come - At last, however, my Lord Father had received the letter.” he quickly took the letter from his pocket, and almost shoved it into the girl’s hands from excitement.  The girl, with her frozen fingers, took the paper into her own hands and her eyes skimmed over it - And she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck. “Ramsay -- You did it! You did it! Finally -- O, I am so happy for you!” she pulled him into a few more kisses, much faster and chaste, but they only made the man feel sublime bliss and euphoria. He felt as if he was flying. “Lord Ramsay Bolton.” she breathed out. “That sounds beautiful. Congratulations, my darling, you deserve it. You are now the legitimate heir.” her smile widened even more. “Now that I am a real Lord, I can properly court you and ask your father for your hand in marriage.” he enjoyed so dearly watching the happiness in those fawn eyes of hers - He never imagined that there would ever be a person that would be so genuine with him. She had no reason to use him, and she never scolded him, or looked down on him for being a bastard. In fact, she treated him so much better than anyone ever did, including his own whore of a mother whilst growing up at the mill, or even that heinous Lord father who hated him.

The only one who actually tried to form a bond with him was his half brother... Too bad Ramsay had no intention of having Bolton siblings that would be named heir in his stead. “And once you do... Will you finally tell me of your... Inconspicuous passions of yours? Officially, this time.” the man froze, and his eyes widened in surprise, and a slightly sense of fright - Does she know of his hunting? Or the flaying? Would she run away if she did? He never did confirm anything back at the Dreadfort - Had she somehow gone down to the dungeons and witnessed the tortured and flayed victims? Had Myranda described in morbid details the hunts he officiated? “What is with that look, Lord Bolton? It is unbecoming of someone like you.” she giggled teasingly. “What better way to strike fear into your enemies, than showing them the true meaning of the symbol of your own House?”  Ramsay looked at her, flabbergast - Did he hear those words correctly? That sweet voice of hers, uttering such... Things? Without any bit of fear? “My Lady, what is it that you are implying?” his own voice went lower, barely audible. “Ah, I see, you must be finding some kind joy out of having a lady speaking bluntly.” she hummed as the corner of her mouth twitched upwards, amused, and she brought him closer to her body. “I feel much safer by the side of a man who is unafraid of protecting his people by any means necessary... Whether or not he takes pleasure from inflicting pain on his enemies.” speaking into his ear made the man shudder slightly. “As long as it is not me that comes to harm... Anything goes... And anything can be... Entertaining.” Ramsay gulped and roughly brought the girl at arm’s length, looking down at her with even wider eyes - His breathing was ragged, his heart was beating so, so very fast, and he was feeling heated. In an instant, the new Lord brought his Lady into a deep kiss, from which he didn’t want to let go. How he wanted to bring her to his home again and hold her slender body to his own, without the pestering feeling of so many layers upon layers of furs, leathers and plush clothing.  “You saw right through me, did you not, My Lady?” he asked, between kisses. “And so have you, My Lord.” she retorted immediately, stepping backwards, her hair messy, and in need of breathing.

The lingering feeling of her sweet and delicate petal-like lips left him in such a drunken state, that he didn’t realise the predator going to destroy his new-found euphoria. Before he realised what was going on, Y/N was pushed out of his embrace, close to the edge of the cliff. Ramsay could see the fear and confusion in her eyes, as a loud crack was heard from the hanging body of land she was sprawled over. He yelled out her name and leapt to grab ahold of her hand, hopefully drag her to a safer part of the cliff, but before he could get anywhere close to her, the edge surped, aided by a perfectly aimed arrow, and the girl fell to her doom.

Unable to get up from the snowy ground, Ramsay was in a deep daze, and strongly spiraling. Just now, he had that sweet flower right in his arms, and she was HIS, and now, she had fallen, away from his reach. He was going to destroy the person who did it. Outright shatter. Rip their nails, flay them, pour salt on their flesh, break their bones, gouge their eyes out, pull out each of their teeth, cut a few fingers and toes...

“My love, are you alright?” that voice... That awful voice... He should have wringed her neck and ripped apart her vocal chord and every strand of her hair, should have bashed her skull against the wall until only mush remained. “M-My love...?” how dare she call him that? When did he ever give her the consent to ever use such an endearing name for him, when she’s nothing more than a toy for him to use as he pleases? Has she forgotten her place? Or did she rightfully anticipate that, once he marries Y/N Tyrell, he would throw her in a hunt and get rid of her permanently? What a scared cunt. She doesn’t deserve any bit of him. But why was she in Winterfell, to begin with? She was not taken in the Bolton party - She was supposed to be at the Dreadfort, taking care of the kennel. Pathetic and disobedient. There was going to be hell to pay. “You stupid, dumb cunt. What have I told you, all this time? You think that killing Y/N would make me spare you? No, Myranda, you are dead wrong. Jealousy bores me. You know what happens to people who bore me. And not only you bored me, but you angered me beyond any boundary. You know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you, you dumb whore.” in his fit of rage, he wasn’t even able to rejoice in the desperate, frightened cries, nor in the complete fear that was gleaming in her eyes. No amount of blood spilled on his body, nor how much pain he was putting her through helped, because just like the broken marionette that she was, her strings were cut and she was easily thrown in the trash, where she belonged. But she wasn’t dead - And nor did he want her dead... Not just yet. “If you want me to spare you, you better return home. Otherwise... I will make sure I find you - And when I do... You will wish that the cold had taken you.” Ramsay threatened the woman after choking her, before he took off some of the layers of fur and stared down at the freezing cold water - He was a northman, he had taken such baths before. He wasn’t fond of them, but he was resistant to the cold. All northmen had to get their body strong and immune to such freezing temperatures since very young. “Y/N... Y/N, I will find you... Whether you are dead or alive, I will find your body.” he muttered to himself during his hyper-fixated state, and he jumped down from the cliff, diving down into the bone-chilling freezing water and swimming down.

He easily spotted the girl, as his own fur coat was weighting her down massively, but thanks to his northman strength, he took off her coat and managed to swim up with both the unconscious girl and the furs that will prove, once dry, a perfect means of keeping her body temperature up. That is, if he can even get that thick thing to dry any time soon.

Though difficult, Ramsay was able to swim to the surface and picked the girl up in his arms, looking for some shelter, and much to his shock, there was a small fisherman’s hut and a fire seemed to illuminate from the inside.  He knocked on the door, hoping the peaceful method would make due, but as the fisherman answered the door and outright denied them entry, seeing the pin of the Flayed Man on his vest, Ramsay blocked the door with his boot, and leaning the girl on one of his arms, he took out a dagger and slit the old man’s throat.

What a dumbass. He was going to let him live, should he have been more hospitable. Too bad.

Carefully, the bastard placed the unconscious girl on the furs on the ground so he could take off her clothes and put them on the string to dry, just next to the hot fire that the fisherman had made to cook a stew. ‘Perfect’ the man thought, knowing the girl would need to eat something warm to get better.

But thoughts about the stew were far gone as he reached her undergarments and instinctually pulled them away, leaving her soft body on display. Though a hue milky to light blue from the freezing water, she still looked so enticing that Ramsay thought, just by looking alone, his clothes would dry immediately from how hot he felt. He could catch fire and immolate immediately from how he was suffocating.

The Bolton bastard couldn’t believe that he got to see his paramour’s body like that, thought he was glad that at least, he knew how to save her. How to care for a hypothermic body, how to maintain a fire, dry the furs and make food - Otherwise, she’d be long dead.

Still, he put his own clothes on the string to dry after putting the only blanket available over the girl, tucking her in... But it wasn’t enough. She was shivering, and she looked paler than before. His body was feeling even more hot now that he realised the only way to warm her up was to hold her naked body flushed to his own. What a sacrilege for noblemen of this era. Lady Y/N Tyrell was an unmarried maiden, she should choose death, rather than allow her skin to be touched by a man - A bastard, no less, be him legitimized or not... Or at least, that’s how that stupid church dictated the laws.

He was going to burn the church from the ground and hold Y/N so tight that all of his lustful fire would transfer to her. Getting behind her, he wrapped his strong arms over her small form and kept stroking her damp hair, hoping to take some of the water away from it. 

Time was passing at an unknown time, but unlike her body, his was feeling ablaze. His grip tightened even more once he heard his name being spoken out so lightly, barely above a whisper. Ahh, the way she was mewling out his name - “Ramsay... Ramsay...” was driving him crazy to the point of spontaneously combusting. “Yes, my sweet flower, I am here. Do not fear, I am right here.” he mumbled into her ear, yet it seemed to be left unheard. “Cold... S-So cold... So... C-Cold...” she kept shivering over and over in such a weak voice that it made the bastard’s nether regions go aflame from lust. Her weakened state was so fragile and easy to break. Her body and mind were completely in his hands, and he had complete control over her very being. “We have been staying this way for hours, my sweetling. Are you still cold?” he asked, frowning as he realised that her trembling hasn’t diminished in the least and that her skin was as cold as ice. “Cold... Too cold...” she was repeating the same words like a broken doll. Pondering, Ramsay immediately jolted into a sitting position, taking the girl up to sit on his lap, her soft chest pressed flush against his own. He could feel her hardened rose buds poking him from the cold. “Are you really cold, my darling?” he asked in an almost poisoned-sweet voice, watching her head lull as she nuzzled her face into the side of his neck, her hands placed on his chest, humming in approval. She was so out of it from the cold, it was unreal how vulnerable she was. “I know a way to make you warm from the inside out, but a sweet maiden like you, with no husband, might not agree to it.” he teased her girl in a low, sultry voice. “I’mm’a d-die... S-So cold... D-Don’t wanna...” hearing that, the man cupped her face and made her look at him - Her hooded lids and dazed expression was enough of a trigger for him, and he didn’t await any other answer. He pulled her into a deep kiss, so filled with passion as he’s never kissed anyone ever before, and his hands pulled the blanket over her form, before he got a firm grip on her hips. “Do you want me to warm you up, despite not being you husband? Do you want me, Y/N? Tell me that you want me, Y/N, and I will make you feel as though you are back in that comforting warmth of Highgarden. Just say the words, Y/N. Say them.” he kept pressuring her between kisses, and for a few moments, she felt lucid. Those firm, warm hands were dragging her soul back to her body and re-awakening her miraculously. “You said I was your Moon’s Queen, didn’t you? Then, it matters little whether I have yet a husband or not, for I have you. You said you will go to my father and ask for us to be married. Do not keep me waiting any longer, I am freezing.” the little flower was demanding of him, how brave of her, Ramsay thought, as he felt himself suffocating with desire.  “People of Highgarden are free to explore their pleasure, you once said. Have you ever been touched by a man?” the girl shook her head. “A woman, perhaps?” once again, she denied. “Yourself...?” nothing. “Not as adventurous as you claim, are you, my dear?” “Stop taunting me... I’m freezing.” she muttered, casting her gaze to the side, only to feel the skin of her neck attacked by those lips of his, kissing all over, and licking and sucking, even grazing his teeth, almost as if biting. The girl could barely contain her sweet sighs, her fingers holding tightly onto his shoulders for support. “Don’t hide those beautiful sounds from me, Y/N. I want to witness everything about you.” that low husky voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand up from desire. He wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, the beginning of a sickness, or simply, the cold, but those splendid eyes of hers were gleaming - It only made her look even more ethereal, if that was even possible. “Your tears are getting me excited, my darling flower - It couldn’t be that this was your plan all along, could it? Fall into my arms like a damsel in distress and seduce me with the sweet melody of a nightingale?” kissing down her throat, Ramsay could feel the vibration of a whimper, which only made him feel more suffocated. “You are driving me crazy, Y/N.” “You’re going to kill me before you can warm me up properly - Was this your plan, then? To make me die of embarrassment?” her bottom lip quivered softly, feeling his hardening member putting pressure on the length of her watery slit. “What is there to be embarrassed about, my sweet flower? It is only what a husband should do to his lovely lady. In fact, it should be me complaining about the things that you do to me. The amount of restraint that I proved was above what I imagined myself capable of.” he sighed into her ear, making her shiver against his touch. “You came over into my bed, nights on end, wearing only that sheer nightgown of yours. You think men and animals aren’t alike, my lady, but when you tease me, there is not much I can do to hold back the feral desire that I have for you.” he felt one of your hands caressing his cheek, then raking up through the messy dark ringlets of his hair, tugging lightly at him - He gritted his teeth to the point of thinking they were going to shatter. He was losing his grip on reality, but he knew he couldn’t give up yet - He didn’t want to harm his sweet flower. “It was no different for me, my sweet Ramsay - Bound to rules and regulations, and a desire to drive you crazy enough to want me more than air itself.” the weak smirk of hers only made him pull her into deeper kisses, his tongue slipping in to explore every inch of her mouth. “I wanted have you as crazy in love for me, as you made me for you. Do you have any idea how much I wanted your arms around me, and you to speak only my name? I want you mine and nobody else’s.” “You’ve been a good girl for me, my sweet flower. Let me reward you for all the times that you’ve teased me to the point of losing my restraints. Were it not for the need of warming you, I would have taken my time with you more, until you were such a mess that the only word you remembered was mine name. I wanted to see you come undone before me, times and times again, and still, I wouldn’t have been satisfied.” carefully, he lay her down on the bed, her back slightly raised by the mound the fur blanket made for her. “It is about time I spoil my sweet lady the way she deserves.”

Ramsay’s hands were on either side of her head, looking down at the precious lady, with her long hair sprawled all over, and a glazed expression of bliss mixed with love and lust sparkling in her eyes. For the first time, Y/N was exposing herself as vulnerable and willing to submit to his every whim. One of his hands trailed down her throat - And oh how delicious she looked with his hand clasping over her neck - And down to the mounds of her breast and the erect buds which he teased with a short pinch. The small twitch of her body only made him feel more smug, as he attacked the rose bud with his tongue, one arm underneath her torso to keep herself up, while the other went down to feel her thigh, and in between. All her beautiful skin was hers to touch, and it was no longer as freezing cold as before. “You are mine, Y/N.” he whispered against her skin as his fingers found their way teasingly trailing across her womanhood with such gentleness that she thought it was a feather torturing her with anticipation.  “Then make me yours.” her comment him chuckle, the vibration against her skin instinctively making her bite her lip as she tried to close her legs to create some friction for her aching, teased core. “I will, darling, I will - Be patient. It is your fault that I can’t help myself from taking my sweet time teasing you. Your body is so honest, betraying your need for me.” a soft gasp escaped as he pulled her thighs apart. “Much better, isn’t it?” and he trailed his fingers towards the little bundle that he knew would create such desperate reactions. “I can’t allow you to do this to yourself. It is me who makes you feel this way - And it is me who will offer you your sweet release.” “You’re so cruel to me - It’s not fair!” she breathed out, her cheeks reddening, her body squirming for his touch.  “Are you feeling bothered just from this, my sweetling? Well - Aren’t you the most precious little thing in the world.” he really couldn’t help himself - His lips found themselves over hers once more, and he took turns between kissing and biting at those soft petals, whilst his hand was applying more pressure, all the way from  the top, and downwards, at such an agonizingly slow pace. His touch was intoxicating. It was maddening. This man was insane, and everything he did made her head spin with every repeated motion, each time, with more and more pressure applied, feeding onto every little gasp and twitch and whimper, her inability to keep quiet making him go feral. “Sing for me, my little nightingale - I love your melody the most.” he said as he held her face up, forcing her to looking into his crazy eyes - Eyes dripping with lust and obsession - He was watching her like a sadist as she tried to keep any bit of composure she had left, and as he cupped her womanhood, playing with her special bud to the point that her body twitched and she gasped - Her torso arches whilst she gripped down on the furs and her legs tried to close once again. “Now THAT is the reaction I was hoping for!” he found himself laughing like an obsessed child, happy to get his puppet move the way it wanted. He drank in her moans as the hand gripping her face was now carefully placed over her throat. “I could snap your neck so easily, like the frail flower that you are - Yet here I am, indulging you to the point of driving myself mad, not only you. You have made a fool out of me, my darling.” Through hooded lids, Y/N looked up at the gorgeous face of the man having far too much fun pleasuring her. “You’re already killing me in more ways than you realise.” with a smirk, his mouth trailed down with kisses from her forehead, down to her chin and her now unveiled throat, and down to her chest, grazing his teeth against her nipple, almost as if he was trying to distract her from the way his fingers were slipping on the wetness of her core.

“My, my, so needy for me, aren’t you? My sweet little flower is so greedy.” his head slowly lowered down to her abdomen, and between her thighs, planting kisses on the supple flesh of her legs. “I will give you pleasure like no woman in this world felt before.” that low, alluring voice of his hypnotised her as he positioned himself against her cunt, her legs over his shoulders, and gripping on the plush of her thighs, his fingers digging into them firmly while his other hand pinned her waist down onto the bed, rendering her unable to squirm from his intoxicating touch, his lips kissed the sensitive area which sent a bolt of electricity through her veins, earning gasp after gasp and timid moans that only made him ache.

His eyes looked up at her, drinking in the way her body convulsed so sincerely just with the way his tongue was teasing her - But he wanted more - So much more. Sinful sighs echoed through the small cabin as he kissed and sucked at her bud, and then more, when his wet, hot tongue danced inside her cave. Sounds so hedonistic that, should the church have known, would have punished her for being a temptress, though the way she mewled his name... “Ramsay... Ramsay...” so broken, her fingers ripping into the furs, drove him over the edge.

His cock was so hard, just by hearing those lustful please of her, so desperate for him, he couldn’t help but imagine that pretty mouth of hers around him, his hand on the back of her head, pushing her up and down until she choked and cried, sucking and kissing and licking him like he was her last meal on earth, and then more, him painting white with his seed, that innocent fawn-like face of her, gorgeous above all, and down on her teats, and on her hands and body, as she begged for more of his milk like the desperate, needy kitten that she is for him.

Oh, the things he’d have her do for him, in the near future - But for now, he was content edging and pleasuring her, just enough so that she’ll be screaming his name and even her parents will hear her, all the way from Winterfell, and then some more. She was such a good little girl, all for him, so hopeful and obedient, and needy - All for him. ONLY for him. HIS Y/N.

“R-Ramsay, stop, I-I... I can’t, I--” that pitched, broken cry, trying to hard to remain coherent yet unable to, as her legs tried to clamp around his head and even his hand was unable of holding her down completely. Lady Y/N Tyrell has experienced her first sweet release, all thanks to his tongue alone.  “What a good girl, Y/N - Was it good, my darling? Do you want more?” he asked, his hands gripping on her tights, holding them on either side of his waist as he towered down to her level, gazing with the eyes of the devil, speaking to her in whispers that would make the devil feel shame. “Y-Yes...” she managed to rasp out despite her embarrassment, yet he took her wrists away from her face as she tried to hide. “Yes - What, my dear? What is it that you want? Tell me what do you want me to do.” he pulled her hands to his face, kissing the inside of her wrist, watching her struggle to speak as honestly as her body did. “I want you - Ramsay, I want you - I want you to claim me. My heart, my soul, my body - Make me yours, my sweet Ramsay. I want you to make me yours.” and how could he resist that sweet voice of hers - The voice of an angel, speaking the filth of the devil - The most beautiful woman in the world craving for his body as much as he did hers. How could he deny her, when he is a slave to her desires. “That’s my good girl.” he cradled her face, refusing to bend down and kiss those sweet lips of hers, and instead, forcing her to watch, to look into his eyes, so dangerously close to her, as he teased her sensitive bundle once again, yet this time, Y/N felt the electricity shortcircuit her wires even more, her whole body felt aflame from the pleasure overheating every inch of her - Every twitch, every mewl, it made the man throb more. He wanted to bury himself inside her warmth at once, but he couldn’t deny how good it felt, toying with her body like this.

The way her body begged so sincerely for him, for his touch, as he entered a single digit into her core - The way she clenched around him only made him imagine the drunkening sensation his cock would feel, held prisoner inside her wet prison. It was no secret - She needn’t say any word, for her body spoke everything she couldn’t, and describes so well the way she loved the way he moved inside of her - So slow, so teasing, curling, sending waves of electrifying pleasure through all her nerves - And he added another finger, and her fingers were digging crevasses into his skin, leaving red trails down his paleness, all from the intense feeling building up more and more. She was so close, Ramsay could feel another release threatening to escape - She was so close, so, so dangerously close that it was excruciating how close it felt - 

He took out his fingers and palmed her cunt, applying pressure on her sensitive bundle, making a tragic heat suffocate her, only to turn pained and frustrated from the denial. “Wh-Why... Why did you stop? You sadistic jerk - Is this torture what I deserve for teasing you?” she panted, deep and in agony, as his smirk only widened with twisted wickedness, and positioned himself to her entrance, leaning down over her body as one hand held up her body, while the other he used to hold himself up, trapping the girl completely under him, getting a better angle at abusing the skin of her neck. “Why, you ask? My sweetling, I simply want you to get so completely lost in this feeling that you won’t know anything else but the pleasure I’m giving you.” he muttered in her ear, feeling her stiffen, and pulling her into a passionate kiss, he slowly entered her soaked heat. Each sweet thrill she made, he drak away, and every time his cock touch a sweet spot, her nails would attack his toned back as if she were a kitten destroying the drapes. “You’re taking me so well, my love.” he said, his mind going black, watching himself pully sheathed inside of her, head held back from the pleasure she was feeling, amplified by her mark he was leaving on her skin, to the point that he was unsure there was any bit of skin left untouched and unkissed. A smile almost impish painted her face, succumbing entirely to the hot waves of pleasure drowning her as her walls clenched down around him, unwilling to let him go.

“Look at you, enjoying yourself so shamelessly. I assure you, no noble lady was ever treated this way by her lord husband. Those arrogant fucks are too afraid to explore the body they crave so much. All they know is to make heirs, but they don’t know how to enjoy it.” his breathing was ragged against her skin, though he was unsure if her mind could hear his words properly. The small bulge he created at her belly with each thrust of his member drove him to madness - She were a slave to his body, as much as he was hers - He disallowed her to get used to any pace, be it faster and sloppy, or slower and deep, yet each time, that sweet spot was hit, she’d let out a new sound that he hadn’t heard before. The cabin was filled with nothing but passionate words spoken with such fire and filth. “My sweet flower, do you want your release?” he asked against her lips, her hands gripping his hair as to force him down into a kiss. “Yes...” she exhaled between the passion. “Then beg me, my darling. Beg me to bring you over the edge of this world.” the girl whined, face red with shame. “If you don’t... Well, I’ve already given you a taste of denial. Tonight I’m feeling merciful - I’m giving you a choice... Do you want to cry my name from the pleasure of release, or... Mayhaps you wish to whine as I leave you here all alone.” he gently captured her quivering bottom lip, graving his teeth over its plumpness. “Though, without me filling you, I suppose you’d get desperate enough to pleasure yourself, and... I cannot deny, your insatiable greed is something that I desire to see.” “I will be the one doing the flaying if you dare leave me like this--” he couldn’t help but grin in amusement - How adorable she looked, attempting to threaten him, all because of her neediness. How very precious.  “Then come undone for me, my love.” he held her even tighter as his pace roughened, her legs wrapped tight around his getting him even closer to her, if possible.

His name was mewled one last time for the night, a sinful, desperate thrill that drove him to an even more brutal pace as he rode her release, watching pleasure take over her senses - Ramsay buried his face into her shoulder, biting onto her flesh and he felt his own release paint her walls white. Once the clouding euphoria start to unfog his mind, he lazily propped himself up, watching the dazed look on Y/N’s face, her chest heaving up and down as she tried to breathe properly after all the pleasure that he drowned her in. Slowly, he took his cock out of her, watching with a sense of accomplishment and devilry as his seed seeped out of her. He hadn’t felt so good before, with his body pushed flush against a woman’s, not did his mind go hay-write when any cunt would shriek his name as he fucked her into oblivion - Yet that body of hers drove him crazy, and her nightingale song was truly special if it was able to burn him like that.

With a satisfied smirk, Ramsay looked down at her flushed face, and played with a strand of her now dry hair - Though her breathing had evened out to some degree, the high was still possessing her. “Was that treatment worthy of a Queen, my sweet flower?” he spoke, taking the lobe of her ear in his mouth, playfully chewing on it, before tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue. “So... When’s the wedding?” she let out an amused exhale, only to find herself switching positions, placed on his lap and with him already inside of her all the way, his arms almost blowing away the air from her lungs as he embraced her tightly, his body glued to her own. “What - Didn’t think I’d just let you go, did you? I’ve got a lot more of the frustration you pent up on me to release, my dear. It is your fault - Own up to it.”

Though the night was long, it passed by like a breeze for the two lovers, intertwined within their lust and desire for once another, yet once the sun was fully up in the sky and the furs and clothes were all but dry, and the food that the old man cooked was finished, the two left the sinful cabin and returned to the castle that housed the Warden of the North and his people. Though they didn’t stay for long, Ramsay, with his new claim of legitimacy, asked Mace Tyrell for his daughter’s hand in marriage, and seeing his sweet  Y/N so excited, he couldn’t help but agree. The Boltons might not be the most affluent family, but relationships in the North were just as important, yet nowhere as much as her happiness.

Once Y/N and Ramsay returned to the Dreadfort for a few days of time spent together, whilst the Reach was to prepare for the wedding ceremony, grandiose and worthy of the second most wealthy in the realm. Meanwhile, the Ramsay invited his darling down to the dungeons, where Myranda was tied up to a wooden X. “Myranda - I present to you Lady Y/N Tyrell, the most beautiful woman in the realm, and, coincidentally, my wife! Isn’t that fantastic?” Ramsay’s poisoned cheerfulness as he presented the woman as though the two never met made the flower chuckle. “Her lips are so sweet, she’s got me addicted.” he continued, pulling her into a tender kiss that only grew more desperate with each and every heartbroken protest from the kennel master’s daughter. “What is it, Myranda? You think Lady Y/N is beautiful? Well, you should see her body! You’ll lose your mind!” with one swift move, Ramsay unlaced and unburdened the Tyrell girl from her dress and pulled her up to sit on a desk, offering the perfect view to the tied up woman, as his hands roamed up and down Y/N’s soft flesh. “I know Myranda, I know - I’ve lost my mind too just seeing her... But when I’m side her and she cries out my name so sweetly... I can’t help but melt and feel like a slave before her.” he admitted, burying himself inside her wet core, his grip on her tightening harshly from how good she felt, but also, the desperate, broken and hopeless sobs from the jealous woman only fueled his animalistic desire for Y/N’s body. “There’s nothing better in this world then getting drunk on you, my sweet Queen of the Moon. I’ll never let go of you.”

After ripping at least two sweet thrills from the woman coming undone in his embrace, Y/N kissed him with so much fire that he was ready to perform more - Until he heard her whisper in his ear, enticing him for illicit activities. “Hey, Myranda - Are you ready for a hunt?”

[kurishiri]

13 . . . main story

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: mental breakdown, mention of murder and attempted child sexual assault, abuse.

Kate: I... don’t want him to hurt himself further.

K: I will stay with him, by his side.

K: And... I will think about a way so that Lord Elbert doesn’t have to hurt himself.

Alfons: When you came to find me, I did have an inkling... so it’s like this.

Alfons said in a small voice.

I could hear a faint sadness in his tone,

but when he raised his head, his usual shady smile played on his lips.

Alfons: ...Well, do as you wish. However...

A: Do not take his obsession toward things he ‘wants’ lightly — let me just leave it at that.

I have seen Alfons laugh in such a resigned way countless times now.

To him, my words might have been as good as reckless.

(But... I don’t want to give up. I want to find a way so that Lord Elbert doesn’t have to hurt himself anymore.)

(I have only just learned about a part of his past...)

The moon was already hidden by the clouds, making the room pitch black — so much so, it could have been a deep, deep sea, where not a single ray of light could penetrate.

—— Elbert’s POV ——

Somewhere far away, the sound of waves echoed——

I could hear the sound of waves. I didn’t want to see what happened next in this dream, but despite my wishes, the dream continued.

At that time, I had pierced the doctor’s chest with a pair of scissors.

Elbert: Hah... hah...

Even now, I can vividly remember the feelings of that day.

I felt, back then, that I was able to become ‘beautiful.’

I was a living proof of sin, who had defiled my mother’s name.

I thought that, perhaps, this was the thing I had always wanted, since the beginning.

Elbert: Hah... haah, ha...

Suddenly, the door opened, and I was met with raven black hair. The boy, who would later introduce himself as ‘Alfons,’ stared at me.

I couldn’t remember the conversation we shared that day that well.

But, I could clearly recall what I had asked him the moment he stepped into the room.

Elbert: Hey——am I... beautiful now?

I ran through the hallway, out of breath, my fingers trembling with small, repeated motions in anticipation and in high spirits.

(Father...)

(I, need to let Father know—)

My heart pounded, as if it had gone wild.

At the time, there was not a shred of doubt in my mind that Father would praise me. I fully believed he would.

——Looking back now, though, it had been such a laughable mistake.

Elbert: Father...!

Upon seeing me burst into the room, covered in blood, Father’s eyes widened.

Hugh: Wh... you, is that... blood...?

Elbert: The doctor... attacked me.

E: He tried to do the same thing my real father did to Mother.

Hugh: ...

At the time, I didn’t notice his face go pale.

Elbert: That’s why, I killed him. ...Hey, Father,

E: was I able to atone for my sin?

(Will Mother... forgive me?)

(And smile again, just this once?)

(Will we... be able to be happy again?)

Hugh: Ha... haha... you’ve gone mad...

Elbert: ...Father?

Hugh: Stop right there, and don’t come any closer. Don’t look at me with those eyes.

H: If you really want to atone for your sins, then give her back. Give Cecilia back, give my happiness back... give it all back!!

Father’s anguished cries were ear-splitting.

It was at that time I had finally come to a realization.

In the reflection of myself in his eyes, there was nothing but hatred and fear.

Hugh: Ahh, no, that’s not right... it’s, not your fault...

H: It’s not your fault. I know that... I know...

Father muttered to himself, seemingly in conflict, before he glared at me with tear-soaked eyes.

Hugh: No... It is your fault, that I became like this.

H: You... always make me remember my sadness and my hatred.

H: That’s why I...

H: That’s why I continued to watch you suffer without saying anything, Elbert.

Elbert: Eh...?

Many emotions were flaked off from his expression. I could see no trace of the gentle, kind Father I knew.

Hugh: Yes, that’s right. I know exactly what the butlers and maids do to you.

H: Only when you’re suffering do I feel even a little better.

H: Even when I heard that you were attacked... I could feel no sympathy.

H: Nor could I ever think to myself, ‘Ah, thank goodness you struck back’ with a smile when I hear that you got shot...

Elbert: Fa...ther...

The muzzle of his gun was pointed in my direction in trembling hands.

Hugh: I... I...!!

H: I can no longer stand this hideous self of mine...

I finally understood when the both of us were soaked in blood.

That no matter what I did, I could never give them happiness.

After all, this body of mine, which had been praised as beautiful, was nought but a sham, and my true self was repulsive and hideous.

That’s why——I sought out, I desired, and I collected.

My father’s warm love, and beautiful things that could compensate for the happy days... all of which, I had stolen away.

In the quiet room where I could hear the sound of waves, I pierced a needle through the back of a butterfly.

Once again, I have obtained something beautiful.

With this, surely, the two of them can become happy.

Surely, surely——

—— Kate’s POV ——

After Alfons had finished telling his story, I went to Lord Elbert’s room to visit him.

When I knocked on the door, there was no answer.

(If he’s sleeping, I’ll head back soon...)

When I thought this and quietly turned the doorknob—

Kate: ...!?

Suddenly, a pair of arms came out from inside the room and pulled me into a tight embrace.

Kate: Lord Elbert... Um, sorry to come in at this hour...

K: I was worried about you, so... I came to make sure nothing had happened to you.

Elbert: ...You weren’t there when I woke up, so I was worried.

E: Usually, I end up waking to the smallest of noise...

He murmured worriedly, and he questioned me while I was still against his chest.

Elbert: ...Where did you go?

His tone was heavy as he asked the question, whispering in my ear.

Kate: I... talked a little bit, with Alfons.

I couldn’t tell Lord Elbert that we had been conversing about his past, but I also couldn’t bring myself to lie, and so I gave him a vague answer.

When I did, I could feel the arms around my back grow tighter.

Elbert: ...Just the two of you?

Kate: Eh...? Uhm... yes.

Elbert: ...I don’t want you to be alone with anyone else but me.

E: I can’t bear the thought, of your heart being taken by someone else...

Still embracing me in his arms, Lord Elbert murmured in a monotonous voice.

Kate: No matter what...?

Elbert: ...Mn. ...No matter what.

E: If only... I could be the only one in your eyes.

His breath from his voice grazed my ear, and I felt my cheeks subconsciously get warmer.

(How nice it would be nice if this was a simple jealousy...)

When I thought this, my heart squeezed.

(How nice it would be if the reason Lord Elbert wanted me was because he likes me...)

As if being pierced by needles, my heart hurt all over.

I couldn’t move from where I was, and my breath quickened.

(How nice it would be... if, he wanted to be happy... with me...)

My feelings were caught in my throat, overflowing ceaselessly——

(Ahh, I see... I...)

(I want to be happy... together.)

This sweet, heartrending feeling spilled out, like blood flowing out from an open wound.

(I want to be happy, together... with Lord Elbert.)

(Because, you are sad, and yet so, so kind... and I love you for that.)

Elbert: ...Kate?

Kate: ...!

My breathing had become ragged, and Lord Elbert tried to peer into me.

(...No, this won’t do.)

My heart had long since already been stolen by Lord Elbert.

(But I can’t give that away.)

(If I become his before I can pull him out of this cycle of collecting beautiful things, then...)

(There will be no second chance — that, I was sure of.)

I would simply be decorated in his room as just another one of the things that ‘weren’t beautiful.’

Looking at such things and hurting himself, after all, was probably his atonement.

Elbert: Look here.

Kate: ...

His smooth hands came toward my cheeks, cupping them as he raised my head.

(Lord Elbert...)

When my eyes met with ones that seemed to sink into sadness, I was reminded that the story I heard before was indeed, a story of the past that had actually happened.

The ‘filth’ that flowed through his blood,

the people who pushed the notion of ‘beauty’ on his appearance against his will,

touting about love while hurting him, and Lord Elbert, who accepted all of that.

When I thought about those, anger, sadness, and helplessness bubbled up from inside me.

Elbert: ...Why, do you look so sad?

(What happened to your parents, isn’t your fault.)

(No matter where you were born, no matter what appearance you have, there isn’t a sin anywhere in there.)

(That’s why... please, don’t hurt yourself any more.)

The words threatened to spill out of my throat, and it took all I had to swallow my words down.

And to stop the tears that pricked my eyes from overflowing, I had to bite my inner lip.

Kate: It’s nothing, so... please don’t worry about it.

Elbert: ......That’s a lie.

Kate: It’s true.

In an attempt to not worry Lord Elbert, who was much more sensitive to people’s sadness than most, I put on a smile.

(Right now, telling him that I know about his past, and denying that sin...)

(...would probably hurt Lord Elbert more than help.)

The two most important people in his life had gotten a taste of sadness, and ended up dying.

And he had always felt responsible for that. That was the truth.

If I said something simple like ‘you have never once bore a sin since the beginning,’

that would be the same as denying the days he had spent to atone, and that——would have hurt him as if being hit by violence.

(But, as for what I can do now...)

I looked straight into Lord Elbert’s blue eyes.

Kate: Lord Elbert.

Elbert: ...What is it?

Kate: From now on, please, tell me about yourself more.

Elbert: About me...? Why...?

(So that, someday,)

(you can be freed from having to atone... or that’s how it should be, right?)

Lord Elbert killed his kind heart,

collected beautiful things, and continued to hurt himself.

I wanted to believe that, within the things he did, there was a fleeting hope.

(How can I help Lord Elbert forgive himself, and end this atonement?)

(I want a clue for that——so that I can save you.)

(That’s why, I have to know more about you.)

Kate: ...Naturally, my heart won’t be stolen by someone I don’t know well, you know?

K: That’s why, I would like you to tell me more... about what you’re feeling.

Elbert: ...If I do tell you, will you become mine?

Kate: That... I don’t know yet.

K: But, it is possible.

Elbert: ...Alright, then. I will do my best to tell you as much as I can, about my feelings.

His arms loosened around me, and I could finally catch my breath.

(Ah...)

I should be relieved, but instead I ended up feeling lonely, and in a panic, I looked down at the floor.

Kate: Well then, I will return to my room now. Good night, Lord Elbert.

Elbert: Good night...

I turned away to try to leave, but...

Elbert: ...Kate.

Kate: Yes...?

As if chasing after me, I heard his voice from behind me, and I turned back around without thinking.

Elbert: When we say good night to each other like this... it makes me ‘happy.’

Kate: ...?

My heartbeat sounded loud to me at those words.

Seemingly unaware of my trembling, Lord Elbert tilted his head.

Elbert: Was this, what you meant when you said ‘tell me more about yourself?’

(...O-oh, I see...)

(He’s doing as I said and telling me how he’s feeling now.)

Kate: ...Yes... that’s right.

K: ...I’m, also happy.

Elbert: ...I see. ...I’m glad.

Kate: ...Uhm, well then, I’ll excuse myself now.

My heart was throbbing as it loudly beat in my ears, and in an attempt to hide it, I left the room in a panic.

(I have to calm down...)

(The only reason Lord Elbert said what he did was because he wanted to ‘have’ me, and in order to do so, he complied with my request.)

My heart was still beating loudly, and I told myself not to hold any strange expectations.

(But...)

(At the very least, he does have a deep affection for me, right?)

Deep enough that he told me directly that exchanging goodnights made him ‘happy.’

(And that really, truly makes me happy...)

(But—)

Not being able to express that happiness openly to him, was agonizing.

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[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: The Rules of Magic

[unicorn fuck club] Brandon Sanderson: so I’ve got a story Sanderson: I call it the tale of cosmere universe Sanderson: it’s kind of long, so you should all probably go to the bathroom first

Sanderson: so here’s what you have to know about the cosmere universe Sanderson: it’s got a hard magic system Sanderson: you have to spend 8 points of manna to cast magic missile Sanderson: but only if you get +2 on your saving dexterity roll Sanderson: and if there’s a level 3 cleric or above in your party, they can roll to assist Alan Moore: [appearing in a flash of thunder] greetings mortals Sanderson: um excuse me sir Sanderson: you cannot just appear like that Sanderson: by the rules of magic, you have to first roll a +8 in spell casting OR shadow weaving Moore: foolish imp, my magic cannot be contained! Moore: your earthly laws cannot bind my powers Moore: for magic knows no rules Moore: only vibes  

Sanderson: UM Sanderson: that’s NOT the way it works Sanderson: there are RULES, you know Sanderson: three of them Clive Barker: damn I’m surprised you had time to come up with three whole rules what with all those doorstoppers you write Sanderson: well there was going to be a fourth but I ran out of time Sanderson: Sanderson: why are you Barker: yeah I’m here sometimes Barker: I wrote abarat, that counts Sanderson: the cosmere universe has 8 realms: sun, moon, flesh, ether, dirt, water, fire, heart Sanderson: and each realm has 12 singularities, called perpetuities Sanderson: each of those perpetuities are endowed with the essence of the create-o-sphere Sanderson: that’s the cosmic pangea that split to make the 4 orbs of knowing Sanderson: see, what you have to understand in that the universe has chaos AND order Sanderson: like, balances of them

Sanderson: also another important thing Sanderson: whenever anyone feels an emotion, like a little sprite representing that emotion appears and dances around for a bit Sanderson: but don’t worry Sanderson: you don’t need to know any of that to understand the story Barker: wow that’s interesting Barker: so I hear you hate gay people, what’s up with that Barker: Barker: oh sorry usually about this time edgar would intervene Barker: haha damn I’m not used to working alone

Barker: so I heard you hate gay people Sanderson: haha no no you got it all wrong Sanderson: I don’t personally hate gay people Sanderson: I simply support an institution that wants to kill them

Sanderson: I think they’re neat Sanderson: if it were up to me, they wouldn’t be exterminated at all Sanderson: but jeez, guys, who am I to tell the Mormon church it’s wrong? Sanderson: I really don’t have any choice here other than to keep tithing them millions of dollars Sanderson: I guess I gotta just hope they don’t use all that money for anything bad Sanderson: but my hands are tied Orson Scott Card: oh yeah totally very relatable

Barker: haha that sucks, man Sanderson: whoa whoa whoa Sanderson: look, I know you all think I’m some sort of bogeyman for giving millions of dollars to a church that wants to kill queer people Sanderson: but consider this Sanderson: I wrote Lord Orebor Twylbyll in The Shroud of Steel and Ivory to be gray ace Sanderson: so really I think that balances everything out Barker: Barker: haha Barker: that still sucks man

[arcadian-vampire]

Anyway good morning everyone, yesterday I engaged in the sacred autistic ritual known as 'making spreadsheets', and then I accidentally stayed up until 3am reading pages and pages of the Terraria wiki 😔

[witch-hazels-musings]

Can I request how Lisa and Sucrose would react to there long time female friend confessing romantic feelings for them? and maybe like first date ideas?

i’ve always loved you 

Warning -> SFW, fluff (kissing) 

Character X FM Reader | Anthology 

Includes:  Sucrose, Lisa

Sucrose

She’s so shocked! She honestly wonders if she really understood you? What you just said to her cannot be accurate, right? 

“Sucrose … I like you.” You state, your eyes moving from her and down to the thumb you’ve been clenching in your fist for a while now. 

“ ...w-what? Oh, you mean l-like as a friend? Well, I am quite fond of you too.” She’s clearly flustered and since she either didn’t seem to get your first confession, or was playing it off as a joke, you try again. 

“Not like that, I have feelings for you.” Reaching out to her arm you hope the connection will make the confession more clear. The color of her cheeks turn bright pink as she comes to realize what you meant, and the reaction that follows is so adorable you think you’ll die. 

The bottle in her hands slips from her grasp as she exclaims and pulls her hands to cover her mouth. The crashing bottle splatters around your feet while she takes a second to register all of these things happening at once.

“Ah! I’m s-so sorry … let me g-get something to clean it up … with …” She turns around and grabs a nearby towel but you’ve already started on the mess by the time she returns. “N-no let me get that, it was m-my mess.” Her hand extends toward the glass but you capture her fingers before they can reach. Elegantly, you pull them to your lips and give them a quick peck before letting her take control of them again. 

“It’s okay, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” 

She’s so flustered, how is it that someone like you can like someone as unprepared for love as her - she just cannot understand 

Her heart is pounding so hard in her chest, her mind is going a mile a minute and all she can think about how incredible you look in front of her 

She wants to reach out and touch you, but her hand is still so hot from where you kissed 

You finish cleaning up the rest of the glass before dumping it into the garbage bin. Looking down, Sucrose hasn’t moved from her crouched position and you hope your confession didn’t totally ruin the relationship you had with her. 

“Listen, I know that was sudden. I just … I don’t know,” You rub the back of your arm and squeeze the skin there. “I have liked you for so long and I really wanted to tell you … anyway if you don’t feel the same or whatever you …” “NO!” She shoots up and catches you off-guard. 

“Oh … okay…”

“Oh no, I mean … I’m sorry, I like you ... “ Clasping her fingers together and pressing them against to her legs, she avoids your gaze but bravely continues, “more than a f-friend. I like you, too.” 

Archons, she’s so cute? You can’t hold back anymore and with emboldened confidence you lean forward and press your lips against her hot cheek. She practically explodes, a huge gust of wind erupts from her and knocks several more things off the counter, papers scatter, containers shift, and unconfined specimens are lost on the wind. 

“Ah … I’m sorry.” She covers her face and you respond with giddy laughter. 

“Cute.”

You love to watch her get excited and to know she likes you back? Well, you are just over the moon 

Your first date idea is something you know she will enjoy. You want to make sure she is comfortable and so the first thing that comes to your mind is taking her on a little adventure  - somewhere she can explore, someplace to study or conduct research - if she smiles that’s all that matters to you

“Look at this!! I’ve only ever seen this species in books. I wonder if the season and weather have an impact on it’s growth cycle.” She bent close to the plant, her fingers cupping ever so gently underneath it as not to disturb its existence. She was always so generous, be it people, animals, or plants she was the kindest person you had ever met. 

“You look like you were meant to be here.” You express, taking up space at her side. 

“Really? I just really love to unearth secrets. When I finally get the answer to a question that’s been on my mind, I feel exhilarated by the accomplishment. Perhaps, I should ... adjust my excitement?” 

“I will never hold you back in your love for research, that’s why I choose this location for our date.” 

“Ah! Yes, this is a d-date. You’re right, what should … what do we do on dates?” 

“We are doing it right now.”

“Are we …?” 

“Yes, are you having fun?” You asked, tracking her gaze with the movement of your head, your question light but important. 

“Yes!” 

“Then perfect, the date is going well.” Her face shifts hues and for the thousandth time today, the word cute runs through your mind. 

Lisa

She already knows - she’s known for such a long time and is honestly impressed that you had the guts to finally tell her your true feelings 

Lisa is wildly observant, she has to be in order to stop people from slipping one too many books into their bags without following the rules of the library. So, she’s clearly picked up the different ways you act between her and some of the other people you commonly interact with 

She especially can spot the discrepancies between her, Kaeya, and Jean. When you talk to Kaeya, his flirtatious, forward jokes fall to the ground without any reaction - you might play back, if you’re feeling cheeky, but your face never shifts 

When you talk to Jean and she leans in close to you, you act as if it’s anyone on the planet, a twig will make you react more than she does - but when you are around her? You become a stuttery, fidgety mess, and if she ever makes a more pointed joke - ;) - you practically shut down 

You find her standing in front of row after row of books, her arm extended above her as she reaches to place a returned book back onto the shelf. She’s so elegant, and when she is in her element she’s the most stunning thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You didn’t know that someone could have such an impact on you. 

“Lisa?” You call out to her, respectful of the rules of the library. She turns and already your heart is racing. “Do you have a second?” 

“For you my dear, I have all the time in the world.” She holds the remaining books against her chest, and, even though she’s wearing her hat, you are still transfixed by the face that’s partially hidden. 

“I wanted to tell you this for a long time … is it okay if we talk here or…?” She chuckles, placing the books on one of the tables and walking toward you. The smell of dark roses pressing against your nose as she enters your space. 

“Here is perfect, cutie. What do you want to share with me, hmm?” She’s a bit taller than you so when you find yourself looking at her face it’s almost always drawn to her lips. 

“I’m sure … well, no .. I mean I know that you’re … ah how do I …” 

“Take your time.” She reaches for your hair and the closeness of her wrist to your face breaks you. 

“I like you!” You practically shout, covering your mouth in your hands at the realization of your outburst. Slipping your head further behind your fingers you hide your embarrassment from her. 

Instead of scolding you, or reminding you to be quiet, she laughs and the sound is so lovely it pulls you from your hiding place. 

“I was wondering when you were finally going to tell me your little secret.” 

“You mean, you knew?” 

“Of course I knew, I’m very observant and I can’t keep my eyes off of something so adorable, now can I?” She laughs again, her fingers sliding along your jaw and toward your chin. There she lifts your head and moves in for the kill. Her lips connect with yours and it’s electric, you wonder if she somehow sent a shock of her vision through the contact. As she pulls away, her smile is so grand you close your eyes again. 

She is honored to have your affection, and she will absolutely lord that over everyone - she has the most prized book in all the collection, if you let her explain her admiration for you - hopefully, you can handle her 

Now that she has chosen you, you want to show her experiences that will always remind her that she made the best choice. You’ve taken her to libraries and bookstores that are hidden from most people's eyes. You’ve gone on adventures to explore ancient domains and ruins in search for historic knowledge, you even traveled to Liyue to meet the ever knowledgeable consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. You were greeted with warm tea and unending information.  

Now, you’ve brought her to the vast fields which surround Mondstadt, the two of you nestled under the stars each keeping the other warm. She feels so good resting against you, her back pressing firmly into your chest as she relaxes under the night sky. You can push your face into her hair and tighten your grip around her as you relish the notion that she is yours and you are hers. 

She’s shared with you her knowledge of the stars, the things she’s read in books and how impactful they are. Lisa has pointed out all the constellations to you and you’re sure that no matter how many times she shares this information you’ll never tire of hearing her voice. 

“Oh look, a shooting star. It’s customary to make a wish, so I’m told.” She presses further against you and practically squeezes out your words. 

“I don’t know what I could possibly wish for other than you.” She turns and looks into your eyes and you kiss her passionately as if hers are the only lips you will ever taste again.

[theredsuzuran]

Douma x reader - Innocence

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Took me a long time to upload a new content am so sorry for the delay I was really busy with school assignments therefore I cannot manage the time to write. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors on my behalf, I hope you enjoy.

Warning : Dark themes like gore, blood and violence, degradation and swearing, mature content.

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

The moon shone brightly above the sky as it's light leak through the branches illuminating the famous building of the eternal paradise cult. A new set of followers rushed into the dwelling in hopes of fulfilling their selfish desires, diminishing their agonies and enriching their possessions. However a particular human with her tattered kimono seem not to be interested to convey anything although the people around her would die to witness even a glimpse of the charismatic leader as for now she was busy running along the wide long corridors

The sound of thumping footsteps echoed throughout the building as a herd of followers attempted on catching the miscreant who disrupted the peaceful atmosphere prevailing over the supreme cult. The already annoyed and frustrated people were all worked up to catch the energetic human who on the other hand have thoughts of escaping this place they called paradise. If only she was careful enough to notice her mother's strange behavior soon as they entered the place but how can you possibly blame an innocent little girl like her, or so she thought. Afraid she might lose sight of her treacherous mother who abandoned her just moments ago she desparety stumbled her way out although that didn't concerned her simple thinking process but that's exactly how complicated the situation was.

Turning one last time to look behind if those weird people were still following her or not when suddenly she bumped into a Tall muscular figure standing infront of her soft delicate frame she must have missed him approaching while focusing on looking behind. "Please just leave me alone!" The girl fumed coherently still overwhelmed by the amount of people rushing towards her like waves something that she was not accustomed with as for eighteen years she lived indoors interacting rarely with anyone and playing with dolls most of the time.

"Watch your tongue brat" one of the men standing beside the tall man spoke with disgust hinted in his voice. "Crouch down you insolent woman, where's your gratitude it's because of lord Douma's benevolence that you are still here or you'd be rotting in the street thanks to your mother", the people around her started whispering and murmuring behind her back but she was not bother since her senses were filled with newfound wrath how dare they insult your angel like mother? No longer able to contain your anger you shouted with tears "Then take me to my mother, I don't want to stay here alone".

"Your mother abandoned you here so shut up and deal with it, now move your way for master" the man grunted irritatedly motioning the other followers to grab her and take her away.

"No don't touch me" she wiggled under their grip rushing towards douma blocking him from entering the room by grabbing his arm tightly "I am not going anywhere until I know where my mother is" she cried loudly making the demon flinch with surprise, how pitiful the creature looked in his polychromatic eyes. He have seen many humans crying before him for obvious reasons which honestly have become his monotonous routine but somehow this girl acted quite weird being her age, interesting him enough to investigate. As he was about to speak the man beside him pushed the girl hashly making her lose her balance and fall on the wooden floor.

"How dare you touch master with your filthy hands bitch" he lift his hand to slap her tight in the face but someone grabbed his wrist just in time to save the girl from further humiliation.

"Silence" all the questioning glances, judging looks and whispering stopped at once as douma spoke nonchalantly making the latter shiver in regret.

"I am sorry douma sama" the man uttered in pure horror having no intentions to displease his beloved lord. "I was-"

"I don't want to see that happen again, understood?" He replied coldly still maintaining his wide smile as the previous chaos shifted into complete hush. The man lowered his head down with shame nodding silently. Douma averted his attention and glanced at the figure underneath making the girl jolt a bit but his once frightening demeanor changed into a cheerful and optimistic one in matter of second upon seeing her.

"Please take her to my chamber and treat her wounds" the man clapped with a wide grin plastered on his face. A group of female servants came rushing to help picking her up. The girl being too bewildered did not protested and simply follow his tone as if she was hypnotized by his neatly decorated persona.

The girl was immediately taken away without delay and as per douma he needed to attend his cult duties. First of all she was washed and changed into a beautiful kimono as soon as she stepped inside, then she was escorted into a room filled with antiques and lavish items which she have never seen. Her face lit up with fascination as she began venturing those decorative pieces.

"Looks like you have ease down a bit, good good" A familiar tone struck in her ears startling her a bit only to turn back and view the handsome cult leader although it was a bit strange because she did not heard anyone approaching.

"Aww did I scared you?" He laughed covering his face with golden fans.

"No I was just- you came in without a warning, I was taken aback" she explained blushing trying her best not to act immature to which douma laughed uncontrollably as he found this human's expression adorable say entertaining in his words.

"D-dont laugh at me" she pouted crossing her arms in the attempt.

"I am sorry (y/n), you really amuse me" he replied still grinning. However there was a moment of awkward silence between them as he uttered her name abruptly.

"I didn't tell you my name.." after a long pause she replied to him with a confuse look in her face.

"I know everyone's name who are living under my supervision including yours besides what kind of cult leader I am if I don't have basic information about my fellow followers. Oh look I have been talking to you without giving the chance to let you talk my bad" he laughed again waving his fans creating another awkward situation. Causing you to sweatdrop on his remark.

"Say (y/n) how old are you?" to which she replied enthusiastically "I am 8 years old and will turn 9 soon"

"Ah you don't look like one" douma grinned closing his eyes in the process.

"Yeah I get that a lot" she remarked shyly.

"Your mother is one of my followers" he continued

"Really?" her eyes sparked with hope as she approached douma with anticipation grabbing his arms for the second time starling him, she really like holding hands eh? he have experiences like that but somehow this girl made him feel different so he allowed her but then she stopped halfway through her words "I really miss her it's been a week since she left me here" her voice dropped with sadness.

Douma felt no sympathy for humans or anything as such, he have learned to fake his emotions from a very tender age eversince he was born to the extent that even seeing his mother killing her husband mercilessly failed to evoke feelings within. He clearly did not understand what she was feeling he just stared at her with a blank expression only to replace it quickly with a grim look even faking few tears. "(Y/n) chan you know its okay you will still have me" he patted the girl in an attempt to comfort her.

"Friends?" (Y/n) replied between her tears.

"If that's how you want us to be" douma smiled at her gently shocking himself for a second because he didn't think of smiling?

Things escalated soon after that incident, (y/n) was a kind and compassionate person from inside and out and in not time the cult followers started loving her presence. As often douma would let her accompany him and most of the time she stayed by his side following him everywhere and he didn't mind that at all moreover he appreciated her company. (Y/n) was like a fresh bud to him who depicted innocence and purity he loved spoiling her with expensive gifts yet she never showed signs of greediness and genuinely appreciated his thoughtfulness slowly forgetting the past life she was in and cherishing her friendship with douma. At first she was reluctant and didn't like getting so much attention but in the course of time she bonded better with everyone and was quite content with the life she was leading. As for douma he began to depend on (y/n) to the point that not seeing her face for even one day would make him go insane and he didn't understand why not like he want to because all he cared about was how she made him feel so many varieties of pleasant emotions he wish he could feel. Eating her was out of context.

However all good things must come to an end for he is someone to not rest in peace after the sin he have committed for centuries. Seeing douma paying her more attention, spoiling her with a ravish lifestyle and even letting her stay by his side all the time made some of his cult members terribly envious they wanted to punish her for taking their chances of stealing the spotlight. There was this one room that he forbade his followers to enter for obvious reasons and specifically for (y/n) because he didn't want to repeat the same mistake. This was exactly what they wanted (y/n) to do break the rules and Douma's trust. Like that there would be no more favouritism on her with others.

"Ah (y/n), there you are" one of the female member approached her one fine morning.

"Yes how may I help you?" She asked cheerfully

"Lord douma have asked for your presence in the forbidden room tonight and he said its urgent"

"Aren't we all prohibited to go inside"

"Oh (y/n) it's true master have arrived today and he wants your presence"

Upon hearing that news her heart elated with happiness, it has been two weeks since he last saw douma around and she missed him but something felt off about the whole situation douma always sees (y/n) first before tending his followers then why did he not come meet her did he not miss her like she did?

She was lost in her thoughts until she found two hands waving and snapping infort of her face.

"Don't be late, okay?" With that said the female hurried back into other room leaving (y/n) behind even though the situation seem kinda odd maybe douma was busy afterall.

At night (y/n) went into the restricted area. She stood infront of the shoji door in absolute dilemma debating whether or not to enter the room or go back. There was her desire of meeting douma on one hand and not breaking his trust by entering the room on the other. In the end she decided not to but as she was turning back she heard someone grunting in pain behind the closed doors being a compassionate person, she decided to open the door and enter into the darkness adjusting her eyes in the process, a pungent smell hit her nostrils making her cover her mouth and to her absolute terror the scene infront of her made her puke in disgust.

A pile of Mutilated bodies, mostly women laid around lifelessly on the blood stained tatami mattress. Many having no limbs, some headless and organs missing from their body as if someone had ate all of that. The whole room was a mess full of unfortunate people. She felt sick and began crawling down her way back from the corpses. However she felt a tight grip on her left foot upon looking down she witness the sight of a woman her intestines oozing out of her stomach begging for help. (Y/n) stood there perplexed unable to say anything chocking through tears.

"I told you not to come here, why?" (Y/n) turned her head violently to see douma standing in a distance his countenance cold and sinister evident that he was highly displeased upon seeing his innocent flower disobeying his instructions.

"It's not... like... what you see" (y/n) cried fearfully but douma didn't seem to buy it well in a blink of an eye she found herself in Douma's arms as he aggressively dragged her out of the room.

"What's going on douma" no word came out from the usual lively douma.

"It's hurting me your grip" no reply again to which she forcefully tried to stand still with all her strength. This time douma stopped his features hidden under his bangs making her unable to figure the expression he was carrying.

"Is this why douma forbade us to enter the room" no reply

"Are you responsible for murdering those innocent people?" No reply

"DOUMA" she shouted

"Why you want to join them?" Douma finally looked at her his eyes glowing dangerously proving his existence to be something unnatural. (Y/n's) eyes widen at his remarks as tears rolled down her visage.

"I hate you.." she murmured

"What?" He tilted his head letting his guard down a bit at her hurtful comments.

"I HATE YOU" she pushed douma roughly and flew from the place running deep into the forest for she knew who he was and what he is capable of doing. Tearing down she constantly reminisce the moments she shared but she cannot allow herself to sympathize his heinous crimes. Why is it that the people I love are always taken away from me? She thought. Exhausted from running she halted in order to catch her breath while glancing back to see if he was following, there was no one indeed so a sudden feeling of relief gushed in her body. However turning her head back she saw him standing inches apart from her face which made her shiver and fall onto the knees.

"Why are you running away from me (y/n)" he said apatheticly his head lowered at her level. She did not reply and stayed quite.

"Is it true that you don't love me after all the things I did for you?" Covering his face with one hand his eyes glowing under the moonlight a look of dejection written on his face. There was complete silence in the forest except the sound of rustling trees.

"Answer me" holding her face now firmly he growled making her flinch under his breath. In one last desperate attempt (y/n) tried to stab douma with a tree branch she found laying on the ground but unfortunately douma was faster and easily dodged the attack and in a swift motion he hit her with immense strength causing her fragile little body to tremble in pain as she coughed mucus mixed with blood.

"How foolish of you" he crouched down her height staring intensely at the quivering figure of the miserable girl. As for (y/n) her body ached but more was the tightness in the chest that she was experiencing in the moment.

He pulled her by the hair roughly making her scream in pain although at this point all she could manage with her cracking voice were inaudible screams.

"Why did you disobey me? (Y/n)..." who knew beneath that friendly kind face was hiding a undeniably deadly and calculative demon and at this point it was clear for her that he was anything but human.

"Who are you?" these few words manage to escape from her shaky lips in between low grunts.

"I am the leader of the eternal paradise cult"

"Wrong" to which he tightened his grip making her shriek again.

"You humans are so dumb believing in the existence of primordial deities where in reality its just a myth, a fairytale, created for pleasuring the sufferings of mere human. Being superior than you mortals I wanted to make these pitiful existence happy and that's why I was born and what you saw there" his lips curved into a cheeky smile revealing his deadly fangs creeping the shit out of the already scared girl. "I eat them so that they can always be with me and attain salvation" a sinister laughter escape from his mouth as he covered it with his golden fans. (Y/n) unable to process the new sets of information knots formed in her stomach making her sick in the guts.

"I ate your mother too, oh she was ungrateful after all the things I did to her just like you" protruding her eyes with pure shock she felt her veins popping out and blood boiling in pure rage.

"You are a monster, you think your stupid morals would persuade people to think like you do, I despise you douma I thought we were friends and you took away the one I cherished the most?"

"You think your mother loved you?" Douma snapped. The duality of this was man was insane, all the things he does or says are plastic.

"She never cared for your life, you want to know why? I will tell you since you insist" douma dragged her out of forest holding a fistful of her hair tightly inflicting great discomfort to the girl while he continued with his harsh statements and deliberate insults.

"You were just a burden, behaving like a fucking child with the alluring body of yours"

"No my mother promised me..she would protect me.. you are lying"

"While you were crying everyday inside my shrine that lowly woman enjoyed her life indulging in adultery with various cult members leaving her sick husband and mentally retarded daughter in the dark" every word he uttered spread vemon into her ears.

"Still she wanted more and more and more, what a greedy whore" douma continued.

"Do you know how much difficult it was for me to control myself around you? While you sway your hips and act innocently making those hungry men lust over you, how much dumb can you be?"

"What do you mean I don't understand.. douma"

"I did everything I can for you yet you remain ungrateful, disrespectful? Well guess its runs in your blood and I thought you are innocent but it turns out that you are just like the rest of them, naive"

Her eyes widened with every hurtful remarks he made about her and she did not understand why she felt that way shouldn't she be resentful towards him for killing her beloved mother but here she is weeping constantly because douma was treating her like he never did before.

"But that's fine (y/n) I can not bring myself to hurt you I love you and we shall always be together whether you like it or not" nothing reached in her ears anymore as her body grew numb. Her eyes shut as she carried the unbearable pain in her heart slowly loosing consciousness and remaining sanity.

It would have been easier if she died but alas a mere human like her is doomed at his mercy.

[friendly-philosopher]

Forbidden Feelings and Hidden Corners: Draco Malfoy X Reader

Finally! I've posted this for your request! Thanks for requesting. I don't know if this was what you expected, but I hope you'd like it. Happy reading!

"I am asking you for the final time boy! If you don't accept the mark from the dark lord, I'll have to find ways to make you accept it." The Lestrange woman sneered at her nephew.

Narcissa Malfoy stood hidden in the darkest corner of the room, blending with the darkness, making Draco doubt if she was really there. He knew she wanted to help him, but the wizarding laws, the wedding laws, and the way she was brought up made her unable to speak against her sister who was obsessed with the dark lord, nor her husband who had his arms crossed, staring at his son, who had become the biggest disgrace to the Malfoy bloodline, with disgust.

"Are you taking it or not?" Bellatrix snapped once again.

Draco let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes. The moment he did, all he could remember was her – his sunshine.

He could remember all the beautiful memories with her. Her stunning smile, her radiant face, her ethereal beauty, her angelic laugh, her soft kisses, everything about her, only her!

He remembered how she would interlock her fingers with his. He remembered how she would cuddle with him. He remembered how she would run her fingers through his hair. He remembered how she would hug him from behind, announcing her presence. He remembered how she would make him lay his head on her stomach, hugging him and falling asleep on the couch. He remembered how she would hold him, when everything became too much for him to handle. He remembered how she would hint soft kisses on his head, forehead, nose and finally his lips. He remembered how they both would spend their nights in the astronomy tower, star-gazing.

Finally, he remembered the way she would mumble "I love you"s in between the kisses. Now, he wished he could have told it back to her. He had always been a very private person, building walls. She was the first one to break many of those walls. Yet, he was afraid to tell her that he loved her.

But she waited. She knew how he was when it came to feelings. She knew expressing emotions weren't his strong suit. So, she was patient enough to give him the time he needed, and he appreciated it.

But now, he regretted taking too much time to just state a fact - the fact that he loved her to the moon and back , she was his everything and he wanted a forever with her.

"No!" he heard himself whisper.

"What?" Lucius snapped.

"No! I'd never take the mark nor become a death eater." He stated firmly and felt proud of that bravery.

Lucius glared at him but Bellatrix just laughed an evil, cold laugh that could rival her master's.

"We'll see my dear!" she told him in a sickeningly sweet tone and left Draco's room, motioning his parents to join her.

***

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) missed Draco Malfoy. If someone had told her that she would miss him so badly that her heart will ache for him, four years before, she would have laughed at them. But now, after years of getting to know the true him and loving him, he had become everything to her. She had caring friends and was really grateful for them, but she missed him.

True, their relationship was a secret one, and no one knew about them. But it didn't mean she loved him any less. She loved him all the same and she knew he loved him too, even if he wasn't so vocal about it. She loved spending time with him, and wasted all her days anticipating their midnight meetings.

Her being a Gryffindor, a muggle-born and worse, a part of the golden quadruplet, and best friend to the golden trio and Draco being a pureblooded, a Slytherin and worse, a Malfoy, had them not go public in mutual understanding. But she did love the memories of the midnight, and they took care of their forbidden feelings in their in hidden corners!

But, it had been a week - a week since holidays were over, a week since school had started, a week since she had seen him, a week he didn't attend school. She decided to write him an anonymous letter to find if he was okay. If he got the letter, he would recognize her handwriting immediately. If it somehow, fall in the wrong hands, then they can't know it was from her. Boy, how wrong she was.

She sent a letter to him. It contained a simple question : "Are you okay? Missing you!"

***

It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the Sixth year for the Golden quadruplet. They were enjoying themselves. Even (Y/N) had pushed aside her worries for a few hours and enjoyed the time with her friends. They decided to head to the 'Three Broomsticks' for a butter beer. While they started walking, suddenly everything became dark and they could feel themselves being grabbed harshly and being aparrated to somewhere.

When (Y/N) opened her eyes, she found herself in a dungeon. She could see her friends in some sort of jail.

She heard someone calling her. The voice was so familiar. Her breath hitched in her throat and her eyes widened. It couldn't be!

"Draco!" She whispered, turning around.

She saw him. It was really him. But his hands were held behind his back by his father while his aunt stood near him.

"How is our little surprise, Draco dear?"

"Let them go!"Draco snapped, pulling his hand away from his father's grasp and reaching for his wand. But before he could even point it against her, Bellatrix disarmed him and bound him with a rope. His wand fall down near his legs and he was forced to look at Bellatrix, now circling (Y/N).

"Ahh....I take it you are the pretty little mudblood that bade my nephew turn against us?" (Y/N) remained silent. "Did you seriously think we can't find you if you didn't sign the letter. Our pure blood magic is way better than that!" She spat.

"Shove your pure blood pride up in your - "

But before she could finish her statement, she fell to the floor, screaming.

"Draco, you take the mark or enjoy watching her die a slow and painful death."

Tears flowed freely from Draco's eyes as he watched the love of his life on the floor, screaming an writhing in pain.

"Please, stop it!" He screamed.

"Will you take the mark, then?"

Before he could answer (Y/N) spoke "Draco, don't. They are gonna kill me even if you take the mark. They'd never let us get together. At least, I'll die knowing I saved you from a terrible fate!"

"Shut up, mudblood! No one asked you to speak" Bellatrix sneered, throwing another "crucio" at her.

Magic is a wonderful thing. It can understand emotions more than any human being ever could. And it did. When Draco felt love for her, anger at his father and aunt for doing this to her and frustrated because he couldn't do anything to save her, his magic swooped in to save the day. His magic came out of his hand without a wand, blasting the iron bars open, freeing the Golden Trio and bursting the lights of the dungeon.

Bellatrix's wand flew away from her hand and so did Lucius's. He caught it and threw them to the trio, before picking up his own, grabbing (Y/N) and apparating to the first place he could think of – The Shrieking Shack. He saw that she was unconscious. She carried her bridal style all the way through Hogsmeade, towards Hogwarts. People stared at him throughout the way, but he didn't care. He walked as quickly as he could, because the only thing he cared about was saving her.

Draco was in a daze all the while – explaining the situation to the matron, the headmaster, Professor Mcgonagall and Professor Snape ; the golden trio rushing in, out of breath, apologizing to them for all his faults and his bullying, his hateful attitude; them forgiving him after seeing the way his own family treated him but saying that it would take them sometime to accept him for who he really was.

Finally, (Y/N) decided to open her eyes. Seeing her best friends and boyfriend having a civil conversation, she thought she was having a dream. But the memories of the past hours came back to her and she sat up suddenly, her body feeling like it was set on fire.

"But why did they take us to make you get the mark?" Harry inquired, stupidly.

"Er.." Draco uncertainly glanced at (Y/N), thinking if it would be appropriate for him to tell them without her, only to see her awake.

He immediately rushed to her, and hugged her gently, like she was a glass flower who'd break at the smallest level of pressure.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"It's okay!" She told him, cupping his face and gently peppering kisses all over his face, finally landing on his lips, locking it with her own. As they pulled away from the kiss, they could see the totally gobsmacked faces of Harry and Ron, and a slightly shocked yet satisfied look on Hermione's.

"Uh....guys.....I have something to tell you."

"I've been doubting this since the Christmas break of the last year!" Hermione whispered.

"Guys....We really love each other! You've seen him only as a pureblooded Slytherin bully but I've seen the other side of him. The one that has emotions and insecurities, fears and desires, just like a normal person. And I fell in love with that side of him. But you are important to me as well. I would be happy if you accept us!"

"How long has this been going on?"

"Um...We started being civil to each other from the time he was scratched by Buckbeak. You know I love helping around in the infirmary and I helped him. Then we met in the Astronomy tower, quite coincidentially but then started meeting each other. We got into a relationship by the beginning of the last year."

"Are we that bad friends, that you've been lying to us for years?"

"No! The problem was you guys were amazing friends and I felt guilty about loving someone who you considered your enemy! But I couldn't help it. We can't control who we fall for, can we? You guys are very important to me and I didn't want to lose you. I love you too much to lose you!" She said, and she could feel tears leaving her eyes. Draco interwined his fingers with hers and squeezed it. The trio didn't miss his movement. They sighed.

"We understand that he does care for you, or the deatheaters would have never used you to threaten him."

"But one thing Malfoy! You hurt her and we kill you!"

(Y/N) beamed and Draco smiled.

"I would never even dream of it! I love her too much to hurt her!" He said, looking into her eyes. Their gaze locked and they smiled.

There was a war approaching, those were dark times, but they were there for each other. He had her and she had him. And to them, that was enough!

(A/N: Hope everyone liked it! Requests ae still open and you can request me in the comment section or PM me!

Until the next update

- Mischief Managed!)

[mythicamagic]

“bite your lip once more, i dare you”

AN: Woop! This long detour has finally ended! Read the complete fic - here.

Warning: Some smut

---

It was with embarrassment that she bowed and apologised to the patrons and staff outside. Soon enough though, a steady arm around her waist steered her away from their disgruntled faces, Sesshoumaru leading her around a street corner.

"I should really go back and apologise once more..."

"Hn, I sense their moods will not be better improved by it, miko," amusement coloured his tone. His eyes found her in the dark. "What exactly were you doing? Other than...flexing."

Kagome fiddled with her fingers, missing his arm around her the second he released her. "I got tired of keeping a lid on things, I guess. Did they know who you were, in there?"

"Mn, seems so."

"No one knows who I am," she muttered, hugging her arms loosely. "And I haven't been honest with any of them. Not one demon boyfriend. I never showed them my true self, so I just thought, maybe I could start tonight. And instead..." she sighed. "I just made my problem their problem. I better go apologise-"

"I know who you are, Kagome."

The glow in his eyes was unmistakable, stopping her.

Sesshoumaru inclined his head, "and there is no need to express regret over announcing it so loudly. It is something I would have done, a long time ago. Those with power can afford to stomp their feet, just a little."

Kagome looked at him, searching his face for any hint of the overworked person she'd seen at the park. Reaching up, she brushed careful fingers over his striped cheek, mindful of the slight burns.

"I hurt you…"

A large hand ensnared her wrist, thin lips meeting lithe fingers in a lingering kiss.

"They will heal quickly. I am merely out of practice with handling reiki."

Kagome swallowed, tears stinging her eyes at the unexpectedly gentle contact. She glanced away, voice hushed. She couldn't contain what she'd seen a moment longer. "I saw your children."

Sesshoumaru's grip tightened, his form becoming tense. "The kit-" he sneered, flashing sharp teeth.

"He was just trying to help. I… saw them at the park," she murmured, fingers curling to touch his hand, prompting him to release her.

Kagome stepped back, searching his guarded, watchful expression. Slowly, the confident, easy facade he wore melted away, leaving behind a weary near immortal. Sesshoumaru swept the length of his silver hair back over one shoulder, sinking down to his knees.

Blue eyes flew wide.

"W-what are you doing?"

Sesshoumaru bowed his head- forehead descending. Kagome quickly gripped at broad shoulders madly, nails biting in. "Stop! You don't have to!-"

A crescent moon pressed to the dirty street floor as Sesshoumaru remained in a deep bow, large body hunched over. No matter how much she pulled and yanked at him to rise, ugly emotions clogging her throat, he would not budge.

"This Sesshoumaru apologises."

Hot tears leaked down her cheeks as the once cripplingly regal demon lifted his head, catching her gaze. "It occurs to me now...perhaps I should have started with this," thin lips crumpled into a jaded smile. "I cannot claim to be very good at humility. Even after all this time."

Kagome smiled sadly, reaching out and brushing gentle fingers over him, wiping away the mud marring his blue moon sitting proudly upon his forehead.

"My apology comes too late," he uttered, resting clenched fists upon his knees. "There is no Western territory in Japan that I own anymore. I am not a lord."

"How'd that happen?" she mumbled.

"I became disillusioned."

Kagome shifted, seeing the lines that he'd tried to conceal before that cut beneath his eyes. He seemed tired, even more jaded and weary than she. "I was naive," he uttered. "So set in my convictions. After losing you, I tried to convince myself it was for the best. We were an ill-suited pair, that sort of thing. I even approached my Mother, seeking vindication from her. She...who had taught me from a young age, instilled in me the value of our special blood and heritage."

Sesshoumaru chuckled, golden eyes dimming in the moonlight. "It was she who looked at me after I explained everything about our breakup and said, 'why did you do a stupid thing like that? Foolish pup.'"

She bit her lip, knowing how rattling that must've been. He'd explained to her before about the necessity of his role. He'd been the perfect heir by design. The Killing Perfection.

"It had not occurred to me she could change. That I could change. That blood and suitability were just abstract concepts, and in the end did not matter. The realisation came too late. You were...gone," Sesshoumaru looked at her soberly, as though waiting for the verdict of his trial.

Kagome hated the idea of him awaiting judgement, gripping his shoulders again.

"... Let's go back to my place," she said softly. It was there in her tone, living and breathing within soft blue eyes. Forgiveness wasn't clear cut or easy. She still hurt. But...she couldn't let him pass by without at least trying to see if they could last this time.

Helping to guide him up back to his feet, a thought occurred to her. "Unless- do you need to go home?"

"No," he said sharply, eyes wide, as though fearing that the offer would never come again. He relaxed his features, "no, my eldest can watch over the young ones."

Kagome nodded. On impulse, she took his hand and began walking down the street.

Sesshoumaru kept pace with her, long fingers frozen, slack in her hold. Soon they twitched, wrapping tightly around her own.

---

Stepping into her humble apartment silently, with the shadows thick and moonlight pouring in from behind them, having guided their steps- Kagome paused in the dimly lit hallway.

Sesshoumaru stood still in his usual way, so watchful and quiet, having not donned a glamour. Long silver hair tumbled down his shoulders.

Kagome's fingers reached up and buried in it, moving herself up on tiptoe.

Lips crashed, bodies meeting- his back thudding against the wall as she shoved and pressed herself against him hungrily.

There was nothing gentle about it. Hips met and pressed demandingly against one another, clawed hands hooking under her thighs, dragging Kagome up the toned length of his body, allowing her to squeeze them around his waist.

Teeth knocked, noses bumping. Sesshoumaru's tongue forced itself past her lips. He kissed her for so long- too long, indulging in the hot cavern of her mouth. Kagome's blunt nails dragged over his scalp, swallowing his answering hiss and canting her hips.

Inside. Please. I want you inside.

Sesshoumaru pulled away to press sloppy, hungry kisses over the length of her throat, sucking at her neck with a low, possessive growl. Kagome reached for his belt, loosening it hurriedly- finding his hard length ready against her thigh. Yet still he was content to tease, nipping at the sensitive skin of her collarbone. Kagome climbed down in frustration- only to yank and pull at his clothes, discarding them in their clumsy attempt to reach the bedroom.

They made it to her small living room, collapsing to the floor. It would do.

After 506 years, give or take a few- neither had envisioned it to happen on her pastel red rug. Surely a nice fancy hotel room, or at least a huge, plush bed-

Kagome straddled his waist, lavishing attention on his pointed ear with her lips while fiddling with her dress. Pulling it up over her head, she growled as it got stuck halfway, obscuring her vision.

Sesshoumaru took advantage of this, capturing a hardened nipple in his mouth and holding her arched back as she gasped, sighing breathily.

It wasn't until their underwear was shoved down, a condom hastily grabbed and a clawed thumb over her clit, circling it- did they find each other's eyes again.

Kagome stopped, panting.

His face was flushed, hair dishevelled. A bite mark had begun bruising his thoroughly kissed lower lip.

Sesshoumaru caught his breath, staring at her, unblinking. Slowly, Kagome gripped his shoulders, guiding herself down just as he held onto her hips. The head of his twitching, achingly familiar cock nudged inside slick folds, before surging deeper with a hard jolt. Kagome cried out and buried her face in his neck.

Sesshoumaru pressed his nose into dark curling hair, wrapping her up in a tight embrace, skin to skin. He cradled the back of her head, everything stopping for a long while.

They held each other without speaking a word, rendered mute, overcome with finally being connected again. Kagome shuddered, clenching her inner walls tight, as though luring him deeper, forbidding him to never part. She'd keep him locked inside her forever if possible. His body felt so warm and nostalgic, plastered against her own. She nuzzled and breathed in his good smell, sighing against heated skin.

A horrible thought whispered in her ear; It was all so breakable. He could ruin her again. With just a few words, he could undo years of progress.

But now Kagome understood it was the same for him. She could dismiss him tomorrow morning and break him too. Hurt him. Hurt the untouchable demon lord who had broken her heart.

Kagome cupped his cheek, lifting her head to brush an ardent kiss over his jaw.

"I missed you," she said instead. Because it was the truth. Nothing could compel her to willingly hurt someone she loved.

"I have…" he whispered, kissing her closed eyelids, "dreamed of you for centuries," starving lips pressed to her neck, "'missing you' is an understatement."

Kagome gave a broken laugh, saddened. "We're so stupid. We've wasted so much time."

"I wasted so much time," he uttered grimly. "But...perhaps it was not wasted time if it brought us here, eventually. Together."

"We've both made mistakes, let's leave it at that." Resting her forehead against his for a moment and inhaling his exhale, Kagome kissed him tenderly before beginning to move.

---

Laying nestled into a sprawled out Daiyoukai's side with her face pressed snugly against his chest wasn't a terrible way to wake up. Kagome stretched slowly, making a soft noise. She planted a few kisses over his ribs, palm splaying over his abdomen and grazing along the length of his exotically striped body. It lay littered with a few scars that hadn't been there before, new to her. Kagome kissed those too, wondering about their stories.

A velvety chuckle soaked with sleep escaped him. "Minx, you are aware that our late night activities will continue if you persist?"

"Maybe that's my goal."

Sesshoumaru sighed, stroking a lazy, affectionate hand through her dark rumpled hair. "I see your appetite has not diminished."

"If anything, I think it might've gotten worse," blue eyes danced as she bit her lip. "It's your fault, you started it."

"Hn, this one takes full blame," he rumbled, touch shifting to her mouth, sharp nail gliding over her it. "Bite your lip once more, I dare you."

Kagome flushed red- and she'd forgotten she could still blush right down to her toes. She bit her lip, hard.

Sesshoumaru flipped her over and muffled her giggles in the bedding as his lips found her neck and hands wandered all over again.

After thoroughly rememorising each other's bodies, they finally located her bed.

Shifting beneath the covers together, Kagome slung a leg over his hip. Sesshoumaru rested a hand over the back of her thigh under her ass, stroking. Basking in the afterglow, she began asking him about his life.

"How come you adopted so many kids over the years? Hanyous too," the topic soon came up.

"I did not do it for any particular reason. They were abandoned, much like Rin. Whenever I happened upon them, they took to following me in a similar manner. However..." his lips thinned, gaze dimming as it stared at the ceiling. "The first Hanyou that followed me was persecuted quite badly at my Stronghold. I did not intend to feel as much as I did about it. She was deemed 'mine' and so I felt outraged on her account. I experienced protectiveness for her, even if I did not recognise it at the time."

"Change happens slowly," Kagome hummed, shifting to lay atop his chest, their stomachs meeting as she rested her chin on her arms. "Did she marry a demon to extend her lifespan?"

"No, she died of old age, much like Rin."

"I'm sorry."

"Do not be, Erika chose her own spouse and lived as she wished. There is no sadness in that," golden eyes slid shut as she stroked his bangs, combing them back briefly from his handsome face. "There is only sadness when children are taken too early," his tone became wooden, dim.

Her heart squeezed in her chest. "Shippo...said there was a reason you didn't come for me during those 6 years. What happened?"

"I thought it wise to wait since you were experiencing heartbreak. My appearance would have made matters worse," Sesshoumaru's eyes peeled open, hazed with remembrance. "On top of which, one of my children could not be moved from his facility."

"Facility?"

He did not answer.

"...Can I meet him now?"

Sesshoumaru gazed out of her brightening window unseeingly. "If I could stop myself from taking in one species again, it would be humans," the words came softly, like a secret. "You always die much too quickly," he uttered, golden eyes sliding to her heavily. "Ruka was terminally ill."

"D-did you adopt him knowing that?"

"It makes no difference to me," he said a tad bitterly. "Whether they last five years or seventy, it is always too short a time," passing a heavy hand over his eyes, Sesshoumaru let it linger there. "Tenseiga brought him back, briefly. But not long enough. Never long enough."

The depth of his grief felt staggering. Kagome could see it, hidden away in all the corners of his face that he tried to hide behind a placid mask.

"Come here."

Sesshoumaru arched a brow. She persisted, leaning back into the pillows beside him and beckoning the demon closer with arms open wide and inviting. He was not one to refuse such a thing, soon resting a striped cheek directly over her heart. It thudded loudly, quick as a rabbit beneath his ear.

"I have not changed my opinions on some things, miko," he said in a dour, soft tone. "You humans are weak. I curse your weakness- and loathe every mortal child I take in for it. They are so fleeting. Every time they came to be in my care, I promised myself no more. Never again. Surely someone as great as I can have the self-discipline not to heed their cries should I hear them, nor follow the scent of their tears. Surely I do not need a pack so badly."

She could tell his conviction to stop caring for them wasn't working out too well, considering the group she'd seen at the park. He would love human children again, and continue to love and take care of them in an endless cycle of happiness and grief. Such was the way of an immortal guardian.

Kagome bent down, kissing the crown of his head. "You've given them a home. Even if it was fleeting to you, it was a lifetime of happiness for them."

Kagome couldn't see his expression anymore but felt Sesshoumaru's grip on her elbow, tight. His thumb dragged slowly, reverently. Heavy breathing shook, beginning to calm as she soothed his rippling youki.

"I'll look after you for now," she muttered, petting silky silver hair and massaging his scalp. "I can't do it all the time. Sometimes you'll have to take care of me, but we can take it in turns. So you can tell me...if you ever need to get those thoughts out again."

Sesshoumaru made a noise of affirmation, lulled by her gentle ministrations. After a while she figured he'd fallen asleep before he asked;

"Do you think you will desire to adopt, in the future? Raising them alongside our biological children is certainly possible."

Her mouth grew dry, hands freezing. Kagome drew in a shaky breath, vision going blurry with damn tears again. She stubbornly held them back, giving a laugh as she squeezed his shoulder.

"That's a tad presumptuous, isn't it? We haven't even said we're dating yet."

"You just said you'd take care of me, duplicitous woman."

"Yeah, because you're a tired old dog who needs a break," she teased, giggling as he huffed and transformed with a burst of youki, collapsing dead weight atop her in a smaller version of his true form. Wheezing, Kagome whined and wrapped her arms around him, stroking fluffy silver fur.

As she caressed along his muzzle, tired crimson eyes slide shut in a display of utter trust and peace, causing her to smile and kiss his wet nose.

---

They did things carefully after that explosive night, gradually easing into things. It was a couple of months before Kagome was introduced to everyone, not wanting to shatter that which had become so precious to them.

"Come on, come on. We have the place to ourselves for an hour, so go wherever you like," Kagome smiled, spreading her arms wide within the museum, voice echoing.

"It is not as though you needed to arrange for a private tour, you could have just showed us around during your normal working hours," Hiroji observed as most of the other children ran around.

"Ach, but I wanted to do something special..." she put a hand to her heart, pretending to be wounded.

"Hiroji, you're so bad with women!" one of the Hanyou's piped up.

"Bad with women!" echoed the other.

The snake demon grit his teeth sourly, while Kagome giggled and picked up the leopard Hanyou and accepting a nuzzle, gazing at their spots with affection. "I'm teasing. It's just nice to let everyone wander around in the open without glamours sometimes, right?"

"Won't the security cameras see us?"

"We have a face-painting section in the stone age area. Totally explainable," she leaned against Sesshoumaru's side as he wrapped an arm around her waist, markings on full display.

Golden eyes smiled, "and if that is not a suitable excuse- we're a Yakuza family with many colourful tattoos."

Akiko giggled, "that sounds cool!"

"I think a family of demons would be easier to accept," Hiroji grumbled, glancing in Shinto's general direction, who lingered away from everyone else anxiously.

In the snake demon's minds eye, he could see the shape of a powerful reiki source approach his brother. Kagome bent down into a crouch, getting on eye-level with him.

"It's okay, Shinto," she said gently. "You know, they have an interactive computer section in here on the Edo Period."

He brightened slightly. "They...do?"

"Mhm, come on. I'll show you," Kagome gestured, catching Sesshoumaru's eye in passing.

His expression softened, morphing into something she could recognise now. Trust in. They'd probably keep making mistakes, but so long as they weren't quite so costly as before, she felt as though they could weather the storms now. Kagome gentled and returned his smile, grabbing his hand as they entered the Edo section.

His children gasped and pointed at the display case of his armour. "Papa, this was yours!"

"I am aware," Sesshoumaru rumbled with amusement, taking his lips to Kagome's ear. "Do you miss wearing the hankimono to bed?"

She shivered, "maybe a little. They were comfy pyjamas," blue eyes caught the mischievous look skittering across his face. "Oh no you don't- Sesshoumaru! Don't you dare steal them! You donated them to this museum!"

"Technically they were mine first so I would merely be taking them back," he chuckled. "Never fear, dear one," he purred, tossing his head regally. "A bit of thievery is a minor feat for a Yakuza family, and the matter is especially pressing when it concerns comfy sleepwear."

Kagome groaned, burying her face in her hands and hiding another smile. She had centuries more of this to endure.

End

[babygirlkiki1016]

Masterlist

Chapter 4: Between Two Races

Chapter 5: The Ugly Truth

The moon was almost out as the sun slowly lowered itself behind the mountains. I sighed, might as well enjoy it, this might be the only time I'll ever get to see it like this. With no enemies chasing us, just me and myself, and the maids who were trying to get me to wear a dress.

"What about this one milady? It's certainly beautiful, any man would love to see you in this kind of dress." It was a long black gown, not as fluffy as the others they had shown me. It was slim, and just my size, I ran my hand over the cloth feeling the soft texture.

"I'll try this one." Trying on the dress was the best decision, it fits me in all the right places. It hung off my shoulders slightly, showing my family's crest. My eyes traveled to the v-line that showed my breast. Well, it complimented my figure, even though I don't like showing my body that much, it made me feel beautiful. "Thank you, you are dismissed." I bowed and left my chambers, I could hear them giggling as I walked away. I wonder what they were so excited about, maybe they're eager to see the dwarves?

"Y/n! It's wonderful for you to join us for dinner." Elrond greeted as he walked up the steps with Gandalf. "You look extravagant."

"Thank you, as do you." He wasn't the only one who thought so, cause every dwarf at the table stopped and stared. Their jaws dropping in surprise, and each of them blushed as I smiled. The moment I sat down at the dining table, Thorin couldn't keep his eyes off of me. His gaze traveled to my chest, I couldn't tell if he was looking at my markings or my breast. "Thorin, eyes up here." He snaps out of his trance, but he did not smile or grin, he scowled at me.

"Don't you think that's a little too much skin your showing?" He growled I didn't think it would be a problem, but now I was doubting myself.

"Even if it is, what does it matter?"

"It matters cause you look like a whore." He took a sip of his wine, Elrond could sense my discomfort. I looked down in shame, all I wanted was to feel pretty, and here I thought this man could change. No, I wouldn't let him get to me, he's just another dwarf his words shouldn't matter to me. I held my head high, making his eyes widen at my new profound courage.

"A whore would be wearing much fewer clothes than I, all that matters is that I feel beautiful the way I am. And if you don't like it, then you can shove it you ignorant pig." The other two people at our table let out a small chuckle, for the look on Thorin's face was unexpected. He was speechless now but turned his focus to Elrond who examined one of the swords that he had taken from the trolls’ cave.

"This is Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West. My kin." He hands it back to Thorin with a small nod. "May it serve you well." Elrond grabs Gandalf's sword. "And this is Glamdring. The Foe-hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the Goblin wars of the First. I believe you will find it to be useful."

"What about this?" I hand him the blue stone I had found in the troll's hoard, he tilted his head to the side and put down Gandalf's weapon.

"It has your family's crest, I highly doubt you need me to tell you what it means."

"I know what the translation is, but why would it say to go back to the Kingdom of Larthas? There's nothing there but corpses and vines that have grown over time." He takes it from me and analyzes the markings, his brows furrowed as he racked his brain for what it could mean.

"I do not know, perhaps there is a secret there that remains hidden. Something only you can find out, you are the Queen after all. Only the royal blood can open the gates of Larithian."

"The gates of Larithian?" Thorin glanced between the two of us in confusion.

"The gates of Larithian is where our treasure remains, anything important goes in there. Yet it hasn't been open for so long." Were there more of my people out there? Maybe they made this gem, so one day when someone found it they would bring it to me. Why? What could be so important?

"How did you come by these?" Elrond still stared at the stone in his hand, I had a feeling he knew something about the stone. He just wasn't telling me what it was, he tried to look at it like he'd never seen it before but was failing.

"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs," Gandalf explained, which caught his attention.

"And what were you doing on the Great East road?"

~♪♠♪~

"Our business is no concern of Elves. It's already bad enough that she knows of our journey." Thorin glared at me, that fire in his eyes returning once more. I could feel a few looks of pity thrown my way, but I could care less. I was a Queen, no matter how much he hurts me I have to stay strong for my people.

"For goodness sake. Thorin, show him the map!" Gandalf ordered, his grip tightening on his staff.

"It is the legacy of my people. It’s mine to protect! As are its secrets."

"Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves. Your pride will be your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle-earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond!" Thorin grimaced at the thought, but he knew that the old wizard was right. Though he looked at me with a hopeful look, I returned it with a glimpse of confusion.

"Can you read the map?" His request surprised me, he would rather have me, a digonisk read the map than an elf? "You do know everything about dwarves out there do you not?" Thorin takes out the map and hands it to me reluctantly. I open it, and read what I already knew, it was mostly about the quest. Elrond took this as a signal to leave, for he knew the dwarves wouldn't want him to listen in on their secrets. So now all that remained was me, Gandalf, Thorin, Bilbo, and Balin.

"What am I looking for?"

"It’s mainly academic. As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text." Gandalf explains, walking with me to the pedestal. "You still read ancient dwarvish, do you not?"

"Of course, it was one of the first languages that I learned during my lessons." I studied the symbols and spoke aloud. "‘Cirth ithil’."

"Moon runes, of course. An easy thing to miss."

"Moon runes can only be read by the light of the moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written. Luckily for you, I do not need the same moon as I can create my own." I lifted my hand over the map as the two dwarves watched, with my magic I created a crescent moon making the paper glow with blue letters. "‘Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.’"

"Durin’s Day?" Bilbo asked curiously.

"It is the start of the dwarves' new year, when the last moon of Autumn and the first sun of Winter appear in the sky together. We still have time to make it to the mountain, as long as we move swiftly and take the fastest route. We have to be standing at exactly the right spot, at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened?" That's when everyone realized this journey was about to get a whole lot harder. Not only would we have to move fast, but that means barely any resting time for the rest of the company. After reading the map, I returned to my balcony, watching as the moon shined upon us. Lighting the town, making it glow with white light.

"You've been coming here a lot since you've arrived. Something on your mind?" Elrond joined me by the edge, his hands folded behind his back.

"Just wanting some peace."

"I do not believe that's the right answer." I looked up at him, he gave me a knowing look. Was I supposed to know what he was speaking of? "Thorin Oakenshield, Gandalf told me about how he's been treating you this entire trip. And I can see it in your eyes, it hurts you when he speaks ill of you." He was right, I didn't like it when Thorin was rude, it was as if he wants to break my heart.

"I just don't understand why it hurts so much." He places a hand on my head, caressing my hair gently to calm me.

"Perhaps it hurts because you are in love with him?" In love with him?! That can't be, I haven't thought of him that way at all. Though I did appreciate his time with me, and I liked it when he was around. His voice soothed me, those ruff vocals were music to my ears. "You know I never lie, your hurt because you love him, and when someone that you love is rude to you it pains you more."

"Even if that was true, he wouldn't love me back."

"That's not what I see, earlier when he commented on your dress I could see the jealousy flaring in his eyes." Could Thorin be jealous of what other men thought? Is that why he's always so rude to me? Because he wants me to be safe, or he doesn't want me to do a certain thing? "You should talk to him, tell him how you feel. If you don't it will only get worse for the both of you." I turned away slightly, looking towards the exit of the garden. Maybe telling Thorin wouldn't be so bad, let's hope he feels the same. I thanked Elrond for the advice and made my way around the castle. Eventually, I spotted Thorin with Dwalin speaking on the bridge over the waterfall. My heart was pounding as I made my way over to them, but before I turned the corner I heard something I hadn't expected. I hid behind the pillar, listening to them speaking about someone, uttering my name.

"You laid a hand to her?" Thorin growled.

"It was an accident Thorin, I was just angry-" Dwalin went to go apologize but Thorin interrupted him.

"She is the Queen of the Digonisks, the one who is going to slay Smaug. You will be nice to her, for she is the only one who can kill that beast." My heart fluttered, he was defending me, maybe he did love me.

"So that's it, you want us to be nice? What about the pain you've caused her?! And for what, so she'll do your dirty work?"

"If we hurt her more, she might turn her back on us. We need her to kill Smaug." So that's all he wanted, he just wanted me to kill that dragon. I was nothing but a pawn to him, he didn't love me after all. I was stupid to ever think such an ass like him could ever have feelings like that. Besides, he did say he'd rather be dead than ever be with me.

"And what about after that? What happens after she kills him?" Thorin sighed in disappointment, it seemed like he was upset about something.

"Then she can take her scrolls and leave." I let my guard down again, I shouldn't have listened to Elrond, he didn't lie but he was mistaken. A moment later I heard shuffling, Thorin was coming my way. Quickly I pretended to be just arriving, which startled 'The King Under The Mountain'. "Y/n." He bowed and smiled at me, but I knew it was just an act. "What brings you here?" My heart wrenched, I couldn't do it, I couldn't tell him. I didn't want to face rejection, nor humiliation.

"I was coming to tell you something." My eyes met Dwalins, and that's when he knew I had heard their conversation. "Though it's not important, not anymore." Quickly I rushed away to my chambers as Thorin called after me, and the moment the hard wooden door closed I slid down to the floor with a soft sob coming from my lips.

@fili-is-my-lover @kirenia15 @lunariasilver @depressedchilipepper @tschrist1

[softlilacmoonlight]

Everybody x Reader - Part Two (Angst Warning)

In group chat (with everybody)

(Y/N): Hey guys!

Everybody: (Commence mass and swift greetings.)

Beel Baby: How are you doing in the human world!?

Luci: I truly hope that you have readjusted well.

Asmo: We miss you! SO! VERY! MUCH!

In private chat with Lord Diavolo

(Y/N): Can I ask you a gigantic favor?

Diavolo: Anything! What do you need?

(Y/N): Can I come back to the Devildom permanently? I know it's a big favor to ask, and I know that it will cause issues with my safety. It's just... I'm all alone here in the human world. I promise I can work! I can continue schooling! I'll do anything!

Diavolo: (Y/N)... of course you can come back! We've all missed you terribly! When can we summon you?!

(Y/N): Gimme an hour! I can pack a quick bag to go and grab the rest later! Could I re-move into the House of Lamentations by any chance?

Diavolo: Of course! Also, from now on it's just Diavolo. When you get here, I need to speak with you for a moment.

(Y/N): Okay! Thank you so much, Dia!

Cue Diavolo processing nickname, and subsequently blacking out for a couple of minutes. Poor demon prince's pounding heart.

(Y/N) pov:

While Lord Diavolo summons everybody to RAD, I quickly pack a go-bag, grab the essentials, and make sure that everything is in order in my apartment. Rushing, I quickly check that the door is locked tight. Lastly, I sit on the couch and patiently wait for Dia to come and get me.

Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass sounds from my bedroom. Before I can even register what happened, a pair of hands force me back onto the couch. They cover and muffle anything coming from my mouth, while the attacker uses his body to force me against the couch making me immobile. No matter how hard I try, I cannot get myself free.

He takes out a cloth from his pocket, and I can't help but panic further. My assailant covers my mouth and nose with the cloth. In a matter of seconds, my brain feels fuzzy and my eyes close. Shutting me in a world of black.

~ With everybody ~

(The angels and Solomon joined them since Lord Diavolo summoned them all)

Third Person pov:

"Lord Diavolo, what is the meaning of this?" questions Lucifer.

To set the mood, Lord Diavolo is bouncing around like a giddy child that just got an early Christmas gift. Everybody is looking at him like he either a) lost his marbles or b) is the funniest thing on the face of the planet. Barbatos and Lucifer are barely containing their displeasure (except Barbatos is a master of hiding it), while Mammon and Levi are trying their hardest not to laugh. Satan and Belphie just watch in pure amusement... no Satan isn't taking a video. What do you mean? As for Beel, Asmo, and the other exchange students, they couldn't care less. They mainly just find it slightly entertaining.

"Lucifer!" exclaims Lord Diavolo in excitement. "I have wonderful news! You guys will never believe it!"

"Then spit it out already. I want to sleep," says Belphie with a heavy groan.

After getting Lord Diavolo to settle down, they re-ask him the question. "(Y/N)! It's about (Y/N)!"

"WHATD'YA MEAN! IS MY HUMAN IN TROUBLE OR SOMETHIN'!" half screams Mammon.

For once, in a blue moon, Asmo goes over to calm down Mammon. You can tell that Mammon is genuinely terrified that something happened. After all, this poor tsundere clings to you like the greedy demon he is. For now, Asmo set aside the normal quips and barbs, trying to take care of his brother. He knows that you'd want him to do so.

Lord Diavolo lets out a grand laugh. "No! She asked to come and stay permanently in the Devildom! I, of course, said yes! She asked to reinhabit her old room at the House of Lamentations permanently! Hence why I called the other exchange students to ask if they wished to rejoin the program or if they simply wanted to visit from time to time."

"SHE'S COMING BACK!" practically everybody screamed.

Mammon's eyes widen in excitement. "I'll have to take care of her again! N-Not that I-I w-want to. YA HEAR!"

"My snacking buddy will be back!" Beel's face looks like a happy little puppy.

Belphie lets out a tired smile. "Snuggles..."

"HUSH! We won't overwhelm her when she first gets here. We'll make her dinner and talk the night away. We still have school tomorrow, after all." responds Lucifer with a cool glint in his eye. Only people who truly knew him saw the fires of excitement in his orbs.

"Don't act like you aren't all excited either Lucifer." jabs Satan.

"Nonsense. The school will be getting a week off for 'important royal business'." states Lord Diavolo in all certainty.

Abruptly, Luke walks over to Lord Diavolo and gently tugs his pant leg, face bright red from having to do so so that the demon prince will recognize that he's there. Lord Diavolo kneels down, which obviously causes Luke's blush to intensify. He glances to Simeon, who gives him a smile and a nod of his head, before continuing.

"Simeon and I have decided that we would l-like to r-rejoin the program." stutters out Luke.

Lord Diavolo shines a gentle smile, all the while Simeon works to cover up his chuckles. "Of course Luke. How about I set up scheduled baking lessons for you and Barbatos?"

"REALLY! I-I mean sure, n-not that I w-want to..." stutters the flushed little angel.

"I am very pleased that I will get to bake with you once more Luke," states Barbatos gently to the flustered angel. Luke just responds with a small smile.

For the first time in this whole conversation, Levi pipes up. "When is (Y/N) coming?"

"Any minute now. I set the portal to grab her an hour after our conversation." he pauses and glances at his DDD. "And... now."

Everybody looks all over the room, eyes wide in excitement. All of their faces holding loving eyes and kind smiles. They just wait. They all know that strong spells like this take a while to be fully completed and properly completed.

Nevertheless, five minutes pass by. Then ten minutes pass, and then fifteen. By the time the twenty-minute mark passes, everybody is officially worried. They can't think of what could have possibly gone wrong.

"Are you sure you set up the time for an hour?" inquires Barbatos to the concerned lord.

Lord Diavolo just shakes his head. "I'm quite certain. I know for a fact we did since we sent texts, and both of us did agree on an hour's time. Here, I'll just try texting her. Who knows? Maybe she just lost track of time. She had to be on her couch when it activated."

In private chat with Lord Diavolo

Diavolo: (Y/N), did something happen? Did you have to leave the couch? Could you please answer? We're all terribly worried.

(Y/N): (Y/N)'s not here anymore. If you ever wish to see her again, then you better follow my orders.

Diavolo: What have you done to her?

(Y/N) Intruder: Nothing yet, but if you wish to get her returned to you, then you better come and follow the clues. Otherwise, I'll kill her. You have one hour to start the puzzle. I'd wish you luck, but quite frankly I don't want you to win.

Third-person pov:

That was the day that the whole Devildom trembled in terror. That was the first time they truly saw the fury of their future king and the full outrage of his closest companions. That was the day that made it clear to everybody. Touch the demon prince's, his butler's, and the seven deadly sins' closest loved one... you will suffer a fate worse than death. The other exchange students agreed with their... passion.

"Time."

"To."

"Save."

"(Y/N)."

And they all went together, as one joined force. The kidnapper will regret this, they swear that on their lives.

[talldarkandroguesome]

5th of Frostfall, Tirdas

Finally we came to place where Seryn looked about. Perhaps it was the towering stones that marked the way for her, but we turned sharply and began our way along the Foyada, taking one of the branches just a ways beyond.

I do not wish to disclose any further details, that is already too much to identify the secret, sacred path. I shall say no more of it.

Our journey was slowed significantly by the increase in volcanic activity under our feet. It was bad enough that we had to stop and watch for falling stones. At one point Seryn actually made a shield, protecting us from a bolder that rolled down the side of the mountain. It was clear that the activity was increasing. It was as Tel and the others had warned. It was clear that most animals had sensed the increase themselves, for there was little animal life to be found anywhere near our path, save for the occasional shadow of a passing cliff strider.

I must say, Seryn has a keen ability to avoid cliff striders , something I asked her about as the light began to fade around us. She laughed and told me that perhaps it was that they were drawn to my scent of my incessant talking. I gasped, surprised at such words, but she quickly dissolved into a giggle and I found myself caught completely unexpected in her jest. I laughed myself, so surprised by the turn and I was glad for the break in what had been a lull in conversation as we walked.

After that, she was more jovial. At least until our upward climb drew near to where there appeared to be a cave.

Above, we could hear the wise woman shouting for someone to stay back.

We ran to find her fending off some skafin, of all fetching things! We defeated them with little issue and ran to the wise woman’s side, checking that she was alright.

She told us she was, that Azura had protected her until we arrived, just as predicted. I looked at Seryn, but she just smiled at me. I do not know if she was aware of the secret or if she simply was glad that we were where we were supposed to be.

Then the wise woman stopped, as though hearing something, so Seryn and I kept silent. Then she spoke, as if someone else were there and said she understood. I realized then who she was talking to as soon as she said, my Lady.

When she turned to me and said I should follow her, I felt my face flush in anticipation, my heart racing. As we headed towards the mouth of the cavern, the wise woman told me that the Queen of the Night Sky asked that I help the wise woman in coming to the correct decision regarding a claim. I could hardly believe my ears.

I asked, trying to contain my excitement, if it was regarding Chodala’s claim to be the Nerevarine. She told me I was correct and that clearly my insight as a diplomat would be needed. Although the Red Exiles had been convinced of Chodala’s claim, the wise woman said she was far more uncertain. But there was more she had to consider, for she feared that if she opposed him there would come retribution from the Red Exiles that could well harm all the Velothi in Ald’ruhn, and possibly beyond as well. 

As we entered the cave, I was struck by the fact that this was a far more ornate shrine. Instead of the usual statue of Azura, stood with Her arms spread wide and the moon and star sitting upon each palm, this statue had Her seated, Her hands together, palms up, held downward. She appeared more to be offering than Her usual show of radiance. Her face appeared serene and kind. Besides Her were two statues of moon and star. At Her one knee, was a small pond, besides which was an altar covered with offerings.

I pulled myself from the awe that overcame me, I had a duty. A sacred one at that. So I asked the wise woman about her options. We spoke of different outcomes that could come from her decision. Finally, we agreed upon an option that would be the most beneficial, it would stop Chodala while allowing the wise woman to remain impartial. It might have consequences for me, but I assured her that I would be far happier having violence directed towards one House mer, than to risk harm coming to her people.

So she explained that if I could find from the spirits of the failed incarnates what brought about their failure, then those flaws could be compared to Chodala’s ambitions. It would be enough to prove that he was headed towards his own doom. His failure. Then she would be allowed to refute him.

I was thrilled and a bit overwhelmed by everything happening around me. Azura had spoken of me. I was in a sacred shrine, the likes of which I had never seen or heard of. I was going to be asked to speak with the failed incarnations of Nerevar, something I only knew a little about. I was going to be present to dispute an Ashkhan’s claim at Nerevarine. There was so much! It was unreal. I was in this pivotal moment in history. Only, instead of simply trying to help the hero of the story to reach the final stage to defeat evil, here I was actually a player in the outcome of history!

Despite Naryu’s jabs about my being hero, I have never felt that was a role designed for me. Yet, here I was, stepping into a place where likely no one outside of the wise women who maintained the shrine, ever entered. And Azura had asked me to do so.

Surreal is the only word I can think of that begins to describe the feeling.

The wise woman showed me how to summon the spirits and then bade me return to Ald’ruhn when I was done, for she needed to be there when Chodala returned from his meditations. Then she left me to do as I was told.

Making sure to carefully follow every instruction, I summoned the spirits of those thought to be Lord Nerevar’s reincarnations. Then, one by one, I saw the ethereal images of each of those great Velothi heroes who had claimed to be the Nerevarine before, rise up from where they had been laid to rest around Azura’s statue.

I took up ink, quill, and parchment, and I wrote down all that they said. Their stories, in their own words. I made sure to spare no details, writing as fast as I could, even when my hand cramped and my finger tips grew numb. This was far too important to let discomfort stop me.

I thanked each of them for their wisdom. I felt satisfied that I would be able to present these sacred stories, wisdom from those who had experienced it themselves, before the wise woman and Chodala. Perhaps Chodala would even see the folly of his ways and be convinced to continue on his great path in a way more befitting a unifier.

As I made to leave, a voice stopped me.

It was Azura, calling me to speak with Her.

I knelt before the great statue and kowtowed before it. I felt warmth and comfort from Her voice. The void where my soul once lay, instantly filled.

She offered me council before I went to refute Chodala’s claim. Offered me the wisdom in how best to present what I had learned and pressed upon me the importance of succeeding in this endeavor. Further, She told me that it was the staff that was making Chodala so bold and reckless and to prevent further destruction, he must be made to part with with. That he is not the Nerevarine.

That last part could leave no doubt. Chodala was clearly being led astray by the power in the staff. I had wondered by who or what, until I recalled the Skafin who attacked the wise woman. Clearly Chodala had made a deal with the Prince of Bargains. It was something to consider as we took our next steps. Perhaps he could be convinced that he should not try using Daedric pacts to fulfill his ambitions.

Before I left, Azura told me that I should assist her champion, which of course I agreed to. She named Seryn as that mer, a friend to all the Velothi people. I kowtowed again, pressing my forehead upon the cool ground. I swore that I would do so and that I would protect her, even should it cost me several lives.

I felt a pleased feeling all around me and my heart swelled with joy.

Then the radiating feeling began to dim and fade, until I was left alone in the cavern.

As I raised my head, the cavern was dimmer that before and I felt wetness streak my face. As I touched my cheeks, I felt tears. I felt the blessing that was given to me. And I knew my task.

I headed out of the cave and found Seryn waiting for me. She was deep in meditation, but looked up as I approached. She asked me if I had found what we needed. I said that I had and as the moons rose in the sky, I read the words of each of the three failed incarnates to her.

She thought in silence after I had finished. I remained beside her, content in knowing that I had a part to play. Seryn was going to succeed. She would convince her brother with evidence he could not deny. He would be forced to see reason. Then we could explain the gravity of consequence that came with his staff, a consequence that threatened the very people he wanted to unite. If Vivec’s power got too low, Red Mountain would certainly erupt, killing everyone that lived near, Velothi and Housemer alike.

Seryn spoke up and said she would need to sleep on everything and plan our next move. I told her I was hers to command, she only needed to say the word.

She laughed and told me that she was another diplomat, not the Ashkhan. I bowed and played her servant as we stood and gathered our things. I wonder if she understands how truly amazing she is? Does she know yet that she is Azura’s chosen?

It is not my place to say. If she does not know now, she will soon. I am sure of that.

We teleported back to Ald’ruhn and Seryn retired for the night. Normally I would go and sit with the rest of the tribe and drink and sing and enjoy the company, but I felt the weight of what was to come and decided that sleep would be a better use of time.

I only hope that we help Chodala to see wisdom.

[shawtygonemad]

What Is This Feeling: Chapter 7

Fem!9th Doctor x Male!Rose Tyler

WITF Masterlist

Through time and space once more, our extraordinary duo was off to have another adventure. The TARDIS sped through the time vortex.

"Where are we going?" Ross asked.

"The planet Panera. They have fantastic bread," the Doctor grinned at her companion.

The TARDIS suddenly switched course and jolted in the opposite direction. The Doctor examined the screen and tried to figure out what was going on. The ship finally materialized. The Doctor and Ross stepped out. It was a dimly lit area with carpeting and display cases. It looked like a museum.

"So, what is it? What's wrong," Ross instantly began to ask.

"Don't know. Some kind of signal drawing the TARDIS off course," the Doctor spoke as she looked around.

"Where are we?"

"Earth. Utah, North America. About half a mile underground," the Time Lord deduced.

"And when are we?"

"2012," she informed her friend as she began to inspect a case.

"God, that's so close. So I should be 26."

The Doctor found the light switch and flipped it on. The room and cases suddenly lit up.

"Blimey. It's a great big museum."

"An alien museum," she looked at the exhibits as she walked forward. "Someone's got a hobby." She shook her head.

"They must have spent a fortune on this. Chunks of meteorites, moon dust. That's the milometer from Roswell spaceship." She furrowed her eyebrows, confused.

"That's a bit of Slitheen!" Ross pointed to a Slitheen arm in one of the glass cases. "That's a Slitheen's arm. It's been stuffed."

The Doctor stopped in front of one of the cases. "Oh, look at you."

Ross walked behind the Doctor and looked over her shoulder. "What is it?"

'Delete…' she heard an echo in her mind.

"An old friend of mine. Well, enemy. Stuff of nightmares reduced to an exhibit. I'm getting old." She internally groaned.

"Is that where the signal's coming from," Ross asked.

"No, it's stone dead. The signal's alive, calling out for help."

The Doctor reached out her fingers, and lightly brushed the glass. Alarms suddenly blared from all around. The pair slightly jumped at the sudden noise. The Time Lord mentally kicked herself. She should have been more careful. Before they could make it to the TARDIS they were cut off and surrounded by guards. The guards were armed and aiming at them.

"If someone's collecting aliens, that makes you exhibit A," Ross nervously joked.

The two of them were escorted by the armed guards up many levels, and throughout the complex. The journey was mostly silent. Ross stayed close by her side, however. Finally they were led into their destination. An office full of over confident Americans.

The man sitting at the desk seemed to be the one behind the complex. He was being showed their recent purchase. It was a musical instrument. They did not know it, and looked completely daft whilst holding it.

"You really wouldn't hold it like that," she almost laughed at how stupid he looked.

"Shut it," she was yelled at.

"Really though, it's wrong," she insisted.

"Is it dangerous?" A girl around Ross's age asked.

"No, it just looks silly," the Doctor smirked.

She reached for the item. Firing bolts clicked all around her. She stopped. The man behind the desk curiously looked at her, and handed over the curved palm sized object.

"You just need to be-"she stroked the instrument softly, and out rang a beautiful sound. "Delicate." To prove her point, she played several different notes.

"It's a musical instrument," the man said, fascinated.

"And it's a long way from home," the Doctor commented.

"Here, let me," the man took the instrument from her hands.

She raised her eyebrows. That was rude. The man proceeded to touch it harder, causing no noise to come out.

"I did say delicate. It reacts to the smallest fingerprint. It needs precision," she once again informed him.

Once he finally got the hang of it and produced music, she smiled.

"Very good. Quite the expert," she complimented.

"As are you," he said before tossing the object on the floor.

The Doctor's jaw dropped. That was almost two hundred years old! It was used to entertain kings and queens, and he just threw it away?! Who is this man?!

"Who are you, exactly?"

"I'm the Doctor. And you are?"

"Like you don't know. We're hidden away with the most valuable collection of extra-terrestrial artifacts in the world, and you just stumbled in by mistake?"

The Doctor laughed. "Pretty much sums me up, yeah."

The man slowly walked around his desk, and got closer to the Doctor.

"The question is, how did you get in? Fifty three floors down, with your cat burglar accomplice. You're quite an artifact yourself, being rather pretty."

"The cat burglar accomplice is going to smack you if you don't give the 'artifact' personal space," Ross shot off angrily. It shocked the Doctor a bit. It was the first time he was ever verbally protective of her.

"Oh, he's English too! Hey, little lady Fauntleroy. Got you a boyfriend."

"This is Mister Henry Van Statten," the girl introduced. She was the only English person, besides Ross, at the complex.

"Who is he at home?" Ross snidely remarked.

"Mister Van Statten owns the internet," she added.

"Don't be stupid. No one owns the internet," he jabbed again.

"And let's just keep letting the world think that, right kids," Van Statten remarked, smug.

"So you're just an expert in everything except the things in your museum. Anything you don't understand, you lock it up."

"And you claim greater knowledge?" Van Statten challenged.

"I don't need to make claims. I know how good I am," she shot back.

"And yet, I captured you. Right next to the cage. What were you doing down there?" He asked.

The Doctor placed her hands on her hips. "You tell me," she sassed.

"The cage contains my one living specimen."

"And what's that?"

"Like you don't know," Van Statten scoffed.

"Show me."

"You want to see it?" Van Statten once again challenged the Doctor.

"Blimey, do I need to separate you two?" Ross remarked, annoyed.

"Goddard, inform the cage we're heading down. You, English. Look after the boy. Go and canoodle or spoon or whatever it is you British do. And you, Doctor with no name, come and see my pet."

Van Statten stood in the elevator with a smirk on his face. The Doctor gave Ross a reassuring look before stepping on the lift next to the American. The ride down was quick and silent. Once they stepped out of the lift, the Doctor was led over toward a large metal door. Van Statten spoke as he unlocked and opened the large door.

"We've tried everything. The creature has shielded itself but there's a definite sign of life inside."

"Inside? Inside what?" The Doctor asked, curiously.

A man in an orange hazard suit walked over to Van Statten.

"Welcome back, Sir. I've had to take the power down. The Metaltron is resting."

"Metaltron?"

'What kind of dumb name is that?' She thought.

"I thought of it myself," Van Statten stated proudly.

'Of course.'

"Although I'd much to prefer to find out its real name."

"Here, you'd better put these on," the man in the hazard offered her rubber gloves. "The last guy that touched it burst into flames."

"I won't touch it then," she said like it was most obvious.

"Go on, Doctor. Impress me," Van Statten grinned at her.

The Doctor narrowed her eyes at him before strutting past, into the cage. It was very dark as she looked around. She jumped slightly as the door slammed shut behind her.

The Time Lord continued to investigate. She found a small table with drills, and other torture tools. Her heart instantly went out to the creature. She turned to where she assumed the 'Metaltron' was. She couldn't make it out. The room was too dark.

"Look, I'm sorry about this. Mister Van Statten might think he's clever, but never mind him. I've come to help. I'm the Doctor."

A few seconds of silence passed before a blue light was seen. When the Metaltron spoke, two white lights flashed with its words.

"Doc-tor?"

The Doctor's eyes widened, and her hearts stopped. No! This can't happen. It's-

"Impossible," she managed to breathe out.

"The Doc-tor?" The Metaltron spoke with more confidence this time.

The lights came up to reveal a Dalek. The Doctor's worst enemy. And it was chained to the floor. This didn't stop the Doctor from crying out in fear.

"Ex-ter-min-ate! Ex-ter-min-ate!"

The Time Lord flung herself onto the door and started to pound her fists.

"Let me out," she practically screamed.

"Ex-ter-min-ate!"

The door wouldn't open. The Doctor took a step back and just stared at the monstrosity. Her entire body was quivering. Her hearts were pounding hard into her chest.

"You are an en-e-my of the Da-leks! You must be des-troyed!"

The Doctor closed her eyes and awaited death. This was it. This was how she would finally die after nine hundred years. Maybe it was her time. Suddenly she accepted her fate. She never realized until now that she was ready to go.

After a few seconds without pain, she opened her eyes. She was alive! Yet a small part inside of her was disappointed. That part was overshadowed by the sickening joy she suddenly felt over her enemy.

"It's not working." She started to laugh like she's gone mad. "Fantastic! Oh, Fantastic! Powerless! Look at you. The great space dustbin. How does it feel?"

The Dalek tried to roll backwards, but was stopped by the chains.

"Keep back!" It demanded.

"What for?" She launched herself forward and became face to eyestock with the Dalek. "What're you going to do to me?" She challenged.

The Doctor, bottled with rage, began to circle the creature. Like a lion hunting its prey. She wanted to intimidate it.

"If you can't kill, then what are you good for, Dalek? What's the point of you? You're nothing!"

The Gallifreyan finally stopped back in front of the Dalek.

"What the hell are you here for?"

"I am a-wait-ing or-ders!" It responded to her.

"What does that mean?"

"I am a sold-ier. I was bred to rec-ieve or-ders."

"Well you're never going to get any. Your race is dead!" She yelled at it. "You all burnt, all of you. Ten million ships on fire. The entire race wiped out in one second."

"You lie!"

"I watched it happen. I made it happen," she spoke maliciously.

"You des-troyed us?" It asked, almost sounding heartbroken.

The alien stopped and calmed down a bit. She turned away from the Dalek in guilt. Their race wasn't the only one she destroyed that day.

"I had no choice," she responded quietly.

"And what of the Ti-me Lo-rds?"

"Dead." She managed to choke out. "They burned with you. The end of the last great Time War. Everyone lost."

"And the coward survived."

This fueled her rage once more. However, she managed to keep it under control.

"Oh, and I caught your little signal. Help me. Poor little thing. But there's no one else coming 'cause there's no one else left."

"I am a-lone in the un-i-verse," it almost sounded defeated.

"Yep."

"So are you. We are the same."

The Doctor spun around, no longer able to hold her anger.

"We're not the same! I'm not-"she paused as a cruel thought crossed her mind. "No, wait. Maybe we are. You're right. Yeah, okay. You've got a point. 'Cause I know what to do. I know what should happen. I know what you deserve." She grinned sickeningly.

"Exterminate."

With that the Doctor pulled a lever on a nearby console. The Dalek lit up with electricity. It began to scream, and she just watched.

"Have pity!" It cried out.

"Why should I? You never did." She pulled another lever, and increased the electricity.

"Help me!"

Suddenly the door opened and guards flooded in. She launched herself towards the last lever. No! This was her only chance to kill it! She was suddenly yanked away from the panel and was practically carried out of the cage.

"No! You've got to destroy it!" She yelled.

The Doctor ripped herself away from the guards once outside the cage. She frowned deeply as she waited for Van Statten to leave the cage. She was very cross with the American man. Once he left the cage they were guided towards the lift.

"The metal's just an armor. The real Dalek creature's inside," she explained to Van Statten.

"What's it look like?" he asked.

"A nightmare. It's a mutation. The Dalek race was genetically engineered. Every single emotion was removed except hate," she tried to explain to them. These stupid little apes weren't getting the big picture!

"Genetically engineered," he spoke as if it were Christmas. "By whom?"

"By a genius, Van Statten," she was starting to get stressed out. "By a man who was king of his own little world. You'd like him."

Van Statten's assistant Goddard decided to butt herself in.

"It's been on Earth for over fifty years. Sold at private auction, moving from one collection to another. Why would it be a threat now?" she asked.

"Because I'm here." How many times does she have to explain it? "How did it get to Earth? Does anyone know?"

"The records say it came from the sky like a meteorite. It fell on Earth on the Ascension Islands. Burnt in its crater for three days before anyone could get near it and all that time it was screaming. It must have gone insane," Goddard spoke in a superior tone.

The Doctor stood for a moment and thought. "It must of fallen through time. The only survivor."

"You talked about war," the human female asked.

"The Time War. The final battle between my people and the Dalek race."

"But you survived, too," Van Statten said with a devilish smile on his face.

"Not by choice," The Doctor added grimly.

"This means the Dalek isn't the only alien on Earth. Doctor, there's you. The only one of your kind in existence."

Just as the doors opened, the Doctor was once again grabbed. She struggled against their grip as they led her into her own cage.

"Any type of exposed metal is going to affect the laser scanner," Van Statten smiled.

The Doctor ended up having to shed her boots, jacket, and top. She was able to keep her bra on because Van Statten claimed he was a 'gentleman'. So now that the Doctor was stripped, she got chained spread eagle in front of the scanner.

"Now, smile!" Van Statten said, cheerfully.

The Doctor bit her lip as a painful shock ran through her body from the laser.

"Two hearts! Binary Vascular System. Oh, I am so going to patent this," Van Statten said.

The Doctor glared at the man. "So that's your secret. You don't just collect this stuff, you scavenge it."

She shook her head in anger as Van Statten went on to say how he cured the common cold and was going to sell cures for every disease. The Doctor was getting frustrated.

"Do you know what a Dalek is, Van Statten? A Dalek is honest. That creature in your dungeon is better than you."

"In that case, I'll be true to myself and continue," Van Statten frowned.

"Listen to me! That thing downstairs is going to kill every last one of us!" She tried to get through to him.

"Nothing can escape the cage."

Van Statten turned the laser up a Koch and blasted the Doctor. She bit her lip harder as she tried to endure the pain. Once the laser stopped, she attempted to catch her breath and speak.

"But it's woken up! It knows I'm here. It's going to get out. Van Statten, I swear, no one in this base is safe. No one on this planet!"

He turned the laser to its highest setting. It once again blasted the Doctor. This time around wasn't for informational purposes. He just wanted to hear her scream. And he did.

[thecleverdame]

Gods of Twilight - 19

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking.  This chapter does contain some non-con elements.

Beta:  @ilikaicalie​

*This story is complete. All 27 chapters are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

“Sam!” Dean bursts into the room, gasping in horror at the sight of your blood-covered naked body on the bed. Sam is laying beside you with tears in his eyes, and there’s a new born baby still on your chest. “Is she gone?”

“Yes,” Sam clears his throat, wiping his eyes with the heel of his palm. Giving your lifeless body one last look he places a kiss at your hairline and collects the squirming infant in his arms. “I can’t look at her like this. Have them clean her body. I’d prefer to say my goodbyes when she looks more like herself.”

“Sam,” Dean starts, looking from the tiny hand of his niece to his brother’s heartbroken face. “It didn’t have to be like this.”

“Don’t start, please. I can’t take another round right now.”

“Why are you so stubborn?” Dean’s at the end of his rope. “She wouldn’t have wanted this! To die before she knew her child! To leave you.”

“She was a gentle person,” Sam hisses, fresh tears springing to life along with his rising anger. “Even if she was able to survive the change she would have loathed being like us. I would never force this curse on her.”

“I don’t understand you.” Dean shakes his head, both arms folded across his chest. “Take the child and go. I’ll make sure she’s well taken care of.”

Dean stands alone in the room with your corpse. All the color has drained out of you but if you weren’t covered in gore it would be easy to think you’re only sleeping. He steps closer, coming around the side of the bed and taking a seat.

While he never trusted you, he knows of Sam’s unwavering love. This will break his brother, and he wishes he could have done something to prevent it. All he can do now is avenge your death and the other lives taken in recent hours.

The full moon is two nights away and his body has responded accordingly. All his senses are heightened. There’s a quiet thump and he hones in on the sound. He waits, counts to fifteen and then another gentle thump.

It’s your heart. The last beats as the final vestiges of life drain away.

“You’re still here?” he asks, inching back to the bed.

There’s a thought flickering to life, a treacherous idea that his brother may kill him for. Sam has never known what’s best for him and Dean has been doing their dirty work since they were children.

Thump.

He knows his brother, he’ll want a mother for his child and he’ll fill the void as best he can. Perhaps Ruby or some other doe-eyed girl who won’t ask questions. But he’ll always be broken. Losing you will change everything. Sam doesn’t handle loss well, he goes dark. Sam gets hard. That’s how he’s always been.

Thump.

“Forgive me,” Dean whispers.

He knees his way onto the bed, lifting up a limp arm and allowing the beast inside him to take over. With glowing eyes and knife-sharp fangs, he sinks his teeth into your arm and waits to see if he’s bitten you in time.

But as time goes by it’s clear he didn’t act fast enough. He should have swallowed his hesitation and done what your husband should have the moment he realized you were dying.

Shaking his head in earnest, Dean takes one last look and leaves the room.

-

Sam sits in a corner of the reading room, staring at the fire. Martha is huddled with a wet nurse who’s nursing his child at her breast. He can’t look at the baby for too long, she’s a beautiful little girl but his heart has been ripped in two. The love he feels for his daughter only serves to exacerbate the gut-wrenching loss of his wife.

You’re gone and Sam only has himself to blame. He told you long ago that bringing you here was the most selfish thing he’d ever done, but that’s no longer true. Allowing you to give him a child, to offer yourself up in the name of love was a far worse transgression. He wanted you beyond reason and now he’ll pay the price.

He didn’t deserve you and he certainly doesn’t deserve the perfect baby in the corner who will never know her mother.

“Would you like to hold her?” Martha asks inching closer with the babe in her arms.

“No,” Sam doesn’t look up, staring at the flames licking upward.

“I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, my king, but it would be good for you to have her close.”

Sam wants to throw Martha out, toss her into the hall and be done with any memory of what came before this terrible day. But his daughter’s small hand reaches upward and he can’t refuse her.

“Give her to me then.” He takes his daughter, settling back into the chair and Martha moves off to the side. The infant is tiny but alert, looking up at him with big, wide eyes. “She is a child with no name.”

“She doesn’t need one, not yet.” Martha scoffs.

“What sort of father am I that I can’t name my child?”

“A grieving one.”

Sam shifts, bringing the baby closer to inspect her face. You were so sure the baby was a boy and he was convinced there could be no better feeling in the world than having a son. But he was wrong yet again, because this small girl is enough to fill his heart ten times over.

There’s a timid knock at the door and Sam looks up as Golda slides inside. She wipes tears from her eyes, unable to look at him. She already thought him a monster, a wild brute of a man who assaulted his wife, but now he’s killed her mistress and friend as the grand finale.

“My lord,” her voice shakes. Wringing her hand together, more tears slide down her face. “Th-they’ve cleaned and prepared her. She’s been laid at rest in the Great Hall.”

Your body will be on display until the funeral. Many will come from far and wide to pay their respects, but he’ll be the first.

“Thank you.”

It’s well into the early hours of the next morning when Sam works up the wherewithal to say his goodbyes. He checks on his sleeping daughter and a snoring Martha in the rocking chair next to her before slipping out in the hall.

His personal guard is at the ready, following him to the Great Hall and waiting in silence as he closes the doors behind him.

Your body lies at the far end, on display in front of the tall, ornate fireplace.

“At least you won’t be cold anymore,” he mutters.

Taking a breath and closing his eyes he gives himself one last moment before looking directly at you. You’re beautiful as ever but unnaturally still. Arms carefully crossed over your belly and your hair has been washed and combed.

Sam thinks he may die here and now, the pain in his chest is too great and he falls to his knees, crying out in agony. He’s already lost more than his share of family, he’s not sure how he’ll bear this weight.

He’s still sobbing when quiet footsteps approach behind him.

“Leave me!” Sam shouts, wiping his cheek with his sleeve.

“No,” Dean’s voice replies. “I’ll stay with you. So you don’t have to do this alone.”

Sam nods, standing up and turning to his brother who embraces him with tight arms. It’s been years since Dean held him like this, perhaps since they were both children.

“I loved her,” Sam whispers.

“I know,” Dean pats his back. “And she loved you.”

Sam doesn't have the words to express the way his heart aches, so instead he holds your cold, stiff hands and kisses your knuckles, uttering barely whispered apologies and professions of love. With a kiss to the forehead, he touches you for the last time before stepping back next to his brother.

“Have you discovered who attacked her?”

“Not yet,” Dean hooks a thumb in the waistband of his trousers.

While they haven’t talked, Sam knows Dean’s been working diligently while he’s been drowning in grief.

“If she had not lost so much blood from the knife wound, she might have survived the birth.” Sam states calmly, rubbing his hands together as if trying to work himself up into action. “She was murdered, Dean.”

“Yes, she was. I’ll find out who and then you can decide how to deal with the culprits.”

“Gutted and hung in the town square should do just fine,” Sam spits, his blood rising. He’s not quick to violence but he’ll happily inflict pain and suffering on whoever is responsible. “Where do we start?”

“You should spend time with your child, take a day or two. Let me do the groundwork.”

“No,” Sam clasps a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “This is what I need now, a purpose, something to fill my head with thoughts of anything other than her face...it’s all I think about. The way she looked at me-”

“We can’t have you sitting around torturing yourself, now can we?” Dean slaps his brother in the ribs assuredly. “Ruby said they have a suspected poacher detained in the stables just outside the farm that sits near the southern border. I am going there now.”

“I’ll accompany you,” Sam confirms, grateful for a task to focus on. He’ll slaughter every last person who was involved with the attack if it’s the last thing he does.

Sam follows Dean through the winding halls of the castle, down and down, until they find the stables. He mounts his steed and grips the reigns, wishing nothing more than to put distance between himself and the death that lurks inside.

“My king!” A servant boy runs toward him at full speed. “My king, you must come right away!”

“What are you talking about?” Sam looks to Dean, his heart speeding up to a gallop.

“I don’t know, sir. The midwife has called you back. It’s urgent.”

He prays to God to protect his child. He’s suffered all he can and losing his daughter would be a lethal blow.

He pulls off his gloves as they sprint back through the wide halls, Dean and a fleet of guards trailing behind them. They’re headed toward his temporary bedchambers, when a cry can be heard from somewhere deep inside the castle.

“Not here, sir.” The boys leads them past the door where he left his sleeping daughter.

While it might not be loud enough for human ears, every wolf perks up at the sound of one of their own in distress. The blood-curdling screams get louder and louder, feral, ear-piercing cries that echo off the stone and reverberate along the halls.

Following the sound, the entire party enters the Great Hall to be met with a sight that Sam is unprepared for.

You’re laid out on a stone slab but your once dead body is now in motion, arching upwards at an angle that looks as if your spine may snap. Your neck is also snapped back and your fingers are curled up like the legs of a dead insect as you writhe and scream. Without warning your body falls limp and then almost immediately you begin to seize, entire body clutching and shuttering as white foam oozes from your lips. Open eyes reveal nothing but white as your eyeballs roll back into your skull and you grunt wildly, body jerking violently in terrible quakes.  

Sam is frozen in place, his mind not yet able to comprehend what’s happening.

“I don’t know what to do for her!” Martha screams, trying desperately to hold your shoulders in place. This declaration jolts Sam back to reality. “What is this? She’s risen from the dead! We should call a priest!”

A thousand thoughts click into place.

“I’m sorry brother-” Dean starts.

“What have you done?” Sam bellows, charging Dean, one hand on his collar, the other around his throat.

“What you couldn’t,” Dean sputters.

Sam’s eyes narrow and for a moment Dean thinks he may snap his neck. He instead growls and releases him.  

“Find Ellen,” the King points to a wide-eyed Philip.

Sam scoops you off the stone slab and moves toward the doors as you convulse his arms.

“What is happening?” Martha scampers beside him, skirts in hand.

“She’s been bitten. She’s turning.”

“Into what you are?” she hisses, looking back at the men following close behind.

“If she survives the change, yes.” He kicks open the doors to your bedchambers. “Find rope or whatever you can. We need to restrain her before she hurts herself. Her strength will build as the fever grows. She’ll be stronger than any of us at this stage, we need to make sure she’s immobile.”

-

There is no coherent thought. Only sensations.

The muscles in your neck are pulling your head side to side, shaking like the tremors of an elderly person, only quicker and more violent as your skull ratchets to and fro. You can’t open your eyes and it feels as if your body is tied down.

The heat of the fever inside your veins is all-consuming, a constant burn as if lava is coursing through your limbs. This must be what madness feels like, complete, consuming, agony-induced insanity devoid of thought and speech. Your body jerks and a single idea forms in your addled mind.

Fire.

Fire.

Fire.

A conscious you would be sure you were doused with accelerant and set aflame.

Your throat is the most painful of all, raw and open, head tipped back and the only sound is that of your beastial screams as pain consumes every last inch of your body and soul.

[selkiewife]

@the-king-andthe-lionheart​, thanks for your questions and comments! It was easier for me to create whole new post because this got long, so I’ll respond to your questions on my post here.

cw/tw: This post contains description of rape and sexual assault, and discussion of seizures.

First, it’s important for me to reiterate that even if Sansa is not being triggered, she still has every right to reject unwanted touch from Sweetrobin.

But the reason I got the impression that Sansa was being triggered by the touching of her breasts is because she has experienced sexual trauma related to her breasts being touched or exposed at least three times before Sweetrobin nuzzles her there. First, as Joffrey is having her beaten in front of the court, he orders Boros to strip her naked:

Boros shoved a meaty hand down the front of Sansa's bodice and gave a hard yank. The silk came tearing away, baring her to the waist. Sansa covered her breasts with her hands. She could hear sniggers, far off and cruel. "Beat her bloody," Joffrey said...

On her forced wedding night she is asked to strip again:

She kept her eyes on the floor, too shy to look at him, but when she was done she glanced up and found him staring. There was hunger in his green eye, it seemed to her, and fury in the black. Sansa did not know which scared her more." You're a child," he said. She covered her breasts with her hands. "I've flowered."

Then when she is told to get into bed:

She had started to pull up a blanket to cover herself when she heard him say, "No." The cold made her shiver, but she obeyed. Her eyes closed, and she waited. After a moment she heard the sound of her husband pulling off his boots, and the rustle of clothing as he undressed himself. When he hopped up on the bed and put his hand on her breast, Sansa could not help but shudder. She lay with her eyes closed, every muscle tense, dreading what might come next. 

Then after she has escaped King’s Landing with Little Finger, Marillion, the singer, attempts to rape her. 

Sansa jerked away from him, frightened. "If you don't leave me, my au—my father will hang you. Lord Petyr."

"Littlefinger?" He chuckled. "Lady Lysa loves me well, and I am Lord Robert's favorite. If your father offends me, I will destroy him with a verse." He put a hand on her breast, and squeezed. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes. You wouldn't want them ripped, I know."

So when Sweetrobin climbs into her bed and nuzzles against her breast, I do think that it triggers her. As she describes:

She would not have minded if he only slept, but he was always trying to nuzzle at her breasts.

We understand why he is doing it and so does Sansa- even though he is eight, he’s still weaning since Lysa was still breastfeeding him and she died so suddenly. Sansa knows he is only looking for comfort. But at the age of thirteen, Sansa has already had three traumatic incidents related to unwanted touching or displaying of her breasts (two of which happened when she was only twelve.)

TWOW Spoilers: It sickens me just talking about this as well, but Arya is also groped at the age of eleven in the Mercy chapter of TWOW. So I completely agree with you that Arya is going through the same kind of abuse and traumas as her sister. At the time she cares for Weasel, I don’t think she has been touched in this way (I may be wrong.) But even if she wasn’t and didn’t have any sort of trigger, I would still not judge Arya to be “unmotherly” or lacking compassion if she rejected a touch from Weasel there or anywhere else on her body.

Speaking of Weasel, I did not say that Arya’s situation was any less traumatic than Sansa. And I totally agree, Arya is on the run, starving, traumatized, and hunted. I also did not intend to say Weasel herself was any less traumatized than Sweetrobin. I do believe that it is kind of ridiculous to compare traumas anyway and obviously it is just not right to do that. However I do think that Sweetrobin may be more difficult to care for than Weasel at baseline. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have thought to compare which child was harder. But it was Sansa’s care of Sweetrobin that was being called into question, not Arya’s. So I did start to compare how difficult each child would be to care for when thinking about why Sansa reacts to Sweetrobin the way she does sometimes. 

So it was intentional when I said that I think Sweetrobin is arguably harder to care for than Weasel, just objectively speaking, for a number of reasons. I also said arguably, because you could argue the opposite- that Weasel is harder. Or say they are equally hard. I mean, Weasel is tough to deal with as well. She cried so much she was called “the crying girl” before she got the nickname Weasel and she even kicked Hot Pie once I think. And she also has that habit of eating mud. And even Gendry complained that she was slowing them down (Isn’t it interesting how the fandom never calls Gendry’s fathering skills into question even though he would have willingly abandoned a traumatized child?) 

But one reason that I personally think that Weasel is easier to care for is because she is more likable than Sweetrobin and less demanding. Although this may be just my own feelings as a reader (which are subjective), Weasel was endearing to me immediately in a way that I didn’t feel with Sweetrobin at first. Now I know that might sound harsh, but I think that GRRM writes Sweetrobin to be off-putting purposely and I will explain why later. He does that with a lot of characters. Sansa for one, but also Theon, Jaime etc... there are a lot of characters in asoiaf that you are set up to dislike at first, before coming to understand and root for them later. I think Sweetrobin is one of those characters. And I think Sansa feels similarly toward him- gradually bonding with him instead of instantaneously. 

And we know Arya seems to like Weasel immediately. She even chooses “Weasel” as one of her aliases later in her arc and she tends to pick names of people she loves. I also think Weasel and Arya have a lot in common. They are both resilient, traumatized little girls on the run you know? I loved that out of the whole group they were the only ones unafraid to eat bugs when they were starving (these poor children!) And so, I feel like Arya could identify with her in a lot of ways.

Whereas I think that Sansa takes longer to bond with Sweetrobin because it is more complicated with him for a couple of reasons. For one, even before the trauma, Lysa has been raising Sweetrobin to be a spoiled brat. He is also emotionally stunted as a result of the way Lysa has kept him isolated and coddled. And even though I don’t think that Sweetrobin really understands what is happening when he is so gleeful about making people “fly” through the moon door- it’s still a little chilling and off putting. 

A specific reason that I think Sansa doesn’t immediately warm to him is that even before she meets him, Lysa intends for them to wed each other. Sansa has just left a traumatizing marriage into the Lannister family and the last thing she wants is another forced marriage right now. As Lysa instructs her:

“He likes to play hopfrog and spin-the-sword and come-into-my-castle, but you must always let him win. That's only proper, don't you think? He is the Lord of the Eyrie, after all, you must never forget that... My son will have a grateful and obedient wife.”

Sweetrobin, at first, symbolizes another unwanted, forced marriage to Sansa. So she might have an initial aversion to him just because of this. And I stand by my original assessment that this does make the situation with Sweetrobin more fucked up than Weasel. Weasel represents a frightened, traumatized child to Arya. Whereas Sweetrobin represents a traumatized child as well, but also a possible future husband that Sansa would have to be “grateful and obedient” to. Of course that changes once Lysa dies- but it is still the way she was introduced to him. And Robert still talks about marrying her in TWOW. We know that it is just a sweet crush from a little boy- but again, even the sweet things he does is sometimes off putting to Sansa because it is related to her trauma. Not to mention the fact that she is only caring for him because his mother tried to murder her. And she is dealing with misplaced guilt since Baelish ended up murdering Lysa after that incident. So Sweetrobin is intricately linked with her trauma.

And then his behavior in general is tough to deal with. None of it is his fault, but it still tough nonetheless. He is given to temper tantrums, throwing his chamber pot and bowls of food at people, and he is very petulant- and this was part of his character even before Lysa was murdered. He kind of reminds me of Colin from The Secret Garden. Like, it’s not his fault he is a spoiled brat, but he does start out like that.

He also has health issues and seizures. Obviously this is not his fault, but Sansa doesn’t have the necessary training to deal with his seizures or know the appropriate thing to do when he is having them. Sansa gives him sweetsleep so that he doesn’t have a seizure on the way down the mountain. As you said, she has no idea it could lead to his death and the side effects seem to be way less of a threat than him having a seizure and falling to his death. She is not a maester and doesn’t know the true effects of what she thinks is a medicine. Maester Coleman is the one who knows how harmful it is. And as the actual adult in the situation, he should either clearly tell her “hey, this will kill him,” or intervene himself. 

She has also been injured while trying to help him during a seizure:

Alayne turned to soothe the little lordling, but too late. The fit was on him. A pitcher of milk went flying as his hand caught it, flailing. When he tried to rise he knocked his chair backwards and fell on top of it. One foot caught Alayne in the belly, so hard it knocked the wind from her. 

And it’s worth mentioning that she never complains specifically about these incidents because she knows it is not his fault at all. That is it just part of his illness. She never complains about him at all actually to his face or to others- she is always sweet and soothing. The only reason we know of her frustrations at all is because we can read her thoughts. Which is similar to Arya who is bothered by Weasel’s crying as well but always defends her against the others who are complaining. 

But I think that Sweetrobin is purposely set up to be a difficult child to care for- because, as I said in the original post, Sansa is on a learning arc. She is learning to care for him (And I think she does an excellent job, personally.) Whereas, Arya’s relationship with Weasel is set up to reveal her compassion, her leadership skills, and ability to stand up for people (like when Gendry wants to leave Weasel behind.)

I agree with you that Sansa represses a lot of Little Finger’s machinations due to her trauma. But I don’t think she knows that Sweetrobin is being poisoned. I think she buys Little Finger’s story that Robert will die because of his health issues. And even then, I think she hopes for the best. Why else would she want to make him stronger and brave? Why else would she hope for a kind wife for him one day, if she was knowingly poisoning him? It doesn’t make sense. But I do think that GRRM leaves some things purposely vague so that it creates suspense. Will she realize he is being poisoned in time? If she does, will she try to save him? I think she will but that is probably one of the reasons he made Sweetrobin so difficult for Sansa specifically. To plant that seed of doubt in the reader. Like we know Arya would do anything to save Weasel. That’s a no brainer. But would Sansa save Sweetrobin? I think yes, and I will write a longer post about this at some point. But regardless, her initial complicated feelings toward him does serve to create narrative suspense.

Anyway, thanks for the questions and sorry that my explanation got so long. I hope you don’t take what I said, comparing Sweetrobin to Weasel, as me saying anything bad against Arya. It breaks my heart when I think of the trauma she has survived and is currently going through as well. And there are definitely many situations where she is dealing with things that are objectively harder than Sansa as well. And like I said, this is just my opinion of the two different childcare plots. 

And also, this may be controversial, but I think Arya absolutely did the right thing when she slapped Weasel to get her to move out of the battle. She needed to do whatever she could as a ten year old child trying to save a toddler’s life! Like seriously, if I were Weasel’s mother I would never be like “why did you slap my child?” I’d be like, "thank you for saving my child!” But like I said, I probably wouldn’t even have tried to compare the difficulty of the two situations had it not been for the initial comparison in the discourse. 

[julieandthefandoms]

Together

A Suzukka Royalty/Canon Divergence/Nothing really changes except for the fact that It is more modern, and Suki, Sokka, and Zuko have never met each other until this moment AU! It can also be found here on Ao3 :)

Reference: The time zones I used were based off of the IRL time difference between where Inuit live (Canada), and Japan. In addition, Bocchan Dongo is a popular Japanese dessert, so that's what Sokka, and Suki were eating in that one flashback of the kitchens. Both of these facts were found through brief google searches, so please correct me if I got anything wrong. Thank you!

Tagging @sukisbxtch @thomaslightwood @emiikas @zafirafoxx @older-brother-kit @ronan-lynch-deserves-the-world @sterllast @potter-redheads (I didn’t know whether the people who simply liked this wanted to be tagged, so I tagged them anyway, and I’m sorry if you didn’t want that)!

Sokka had never expected to fall in love. He certainly did not expect to fall for someone during a business trip, nor did he expect it to happen as quickly as it did.

It had all started out perfectly normal, Sokka packing to stay at the Fire Nation Royal Palace for a few months to discuss the economic, and political affairs between the Fire Nation and the Water Tribe after nearly a century of war. He had become the Ambassador of the Water Tribe not too long ago at the ripe age of 19, and this meeting seemed like a good opportunity to gain hands on experience. It was, of course, but Sokka hadn’t expected to fall for the nation, never mind meeting two people who would bury themselves into his heart in that fateful trip. 

~*^*~

The day Sokka met Suki happened to be the day he’d arrived at the palace. He was shaking with nervous energy, though it was underlaid with an odd thrill at the sight of the extravagant palace, and the opportunity held before him. He was practically bouncing on his feet, swinging a suitcase containing important documents for the meeting the next day. His other belongings had been shipped to the palace prior to his arrival, a custom extended to all traveling business people. The day was new, and he was ready to fix the relations between the two nations. Unfortunately, Sokka seemed to have forgotten the shift in time zones, and, since the Fire Nation was 13 hours ahead of the Water Tribe, had arrived at 3 in the morning.

Sokka had approached the palace with a thrumming energy, an energy that could brighten almost every room. The streets, however, were empty, aside from Sokka. The soft flames of the street lights bathing the pavement and surrounding shrubbery in a warm, sunset orange. He grew more suspicious the closer he got to the palace, the eerie quiet of the place finally registering. Hot, dry winds rustled the leaves, the feeling of eyes on him made his back crawl. He chalked up the concern to the wind, bouncing animatedly towards the large wood door that greeted him.

The palace was lavish, lined with portraits of the past Fire Lords, each adorning colors of fire and gold and ash. Sokka once again noted the lack of people, though the portraits felt like they were watching his every move, anyway. 

It’s a bit odd that there aren’t any guards-

Fans flashed across his vision. A blur danced before him, spinning the fans in wide arcs, until they were caught in his torso. In an instant, Sokka was pinned on the floor, his back flat against the cold tile. A girl around his age, two fans placed at her hips, was on top of him, holding his arms, and feet to the ground.

“You’re awfully obvious for an assassin.”

She was fierce in her words, a tone of judgement laced within thinly veiled fury piercing through her voice. Sokka couldn't help but notice how personal that fury seemed, as though he had killed her baby sea turtle. The warrior’s tunic fluttered in the breeze brought in through the entrance Sokka hadn’t gotten the opportunity to close yet. Even though his life was probably in danger at the moment, he couldn’t help but feel mildly attracted to the girl who'd just kicked his ass. Yeah, his survival instincts may not have been the best.

Sokka shook himself out of his daze, finally registering the situation he was currently in. “Assassin? I’m not trying to assasinate anybody! The war is over, there is a Firelord who is not trying to cause mass genocide, things are great! No murder for me, thank you, I am only a humble representative of the Water Tribe-”

The warrior muffled him before he could finish his ramblings. Cautiously, she stood up, though she didn’t let go of Sokka’s arms, holding them behind his back.

“Alright, Firelord Zuko did tell us to expect the Ambassador of the Water Tribe to arrive soon, so I suppose I can let you go” she released his hands, a smirk lighting her face. “Besides, I doubt any assassin would be so bad at their job.”

“Hey,” Sokka raised a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’d be a great assassin!”

The warrior laughed, the pale beams of the moon brushing her features in a soft light, almost as if they were glowing. Her dark hair, a difficult color to see in the dimness of the palace, shone auburn from where sconces held precious flames. She composed herself before stretching out a hand.

“Suki, head guard of the Fire Lord Zuko.”

Sokka clasped the warrior’s -Suki’s- hand in his own.

“Sokka, Ambassador of the Water Tribe.”

~*^*~

It would have all been alright if it had stopped there, if he had only fallen for Suki. Unfortunately, life didn’t seem to work like that. In the beginning, it seemed to be going pretty well, Sokka and Suki talking to each other before and after every meeting, even sneaking to the kitchens after everyone but the guards had fallen asleep. They’d laugh together, and steal dessert from each other’s plates, simply enjoying one another’s presence.

“Okay, so, tell me more about your life on Kyoshi Island. I want to learn more about you badass warrior ways.”

“Alright, but only if you give me your Bocchan Dango.”

Sokka pouted. In his time at the Fire Nation Royal Palace, he’d gotten quite attached to the dessert, but complied nonetheless, because a. he wanted to know more about the Kyoshi Warriors, and b. there was more dessert in the freezer.

Sokka smiled at the memory. It had been so simple when he’d thought he’d only fell for Suki.

But, of course, things could never be that simple.

During the weeks in which he’d stayed at the palace, Sokka had not only grown close to the guard, but had also managed to become friends (acquaintances? He wasn’t completely sure what it was called, but they definitely had held enthusiastic conversations in the hall multiple times) with the Fire Lord himself. Zuko was a better Fire Lord than Sokka could have ever imagined, and he enjoyed his company as a friendly face in the palace. 

~*^*~

Sokka and Zuko’s budding friendship had begun during Sokka’s first meeting with the Fire Lord and the rest of the Council, the time passing in a discussion of rewriting the biased history, and attempting to establish plans in order to properly assist the nations affected due to the war. Sokka respected that about Zuko, the extent at which he was willing to go to right his wrongs, and he had left the meeting content with the plans discussed.

“So, I hear you attempted to assassinate me last night.”

A voice brought Sokka out of his thoughts, causing him to lift his head from its usual thinking pose (head turned down, and hand on his chin) to face Lord Zuko himself. It was a playful tone, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“I tried, but alas, your head guard is too good for my lowly assassin ways,”  Sokka sent back a smile of his own.

“Suki told me you were horrible at it, though I don’t think ambassadors are trained in that sort of thing, so I guess it’ll pass.” He paused for a moment, continuing once more. “Your policies in that meeting seem to be really promising; I’ll be looking forward to working with you in the future, Ambassador Sokka.”

“As will I, Fire Lord Zuko.”

Eventually, their conversations moved to a more friendly tone, the two exchanging topics on the policies they were passionate about exploring, though Sokka’s problem hadn’t started then either. No, no, no, no, no, they had started the moment Zuko had showed up one night on Suki and Sokka’s kitchen story time sessions.

The night fell as it usually did, the two rushing to the kitchens an hour later then they usually did (Sokka may or may not have overslept). Suki pushed open the wooden doors, revealing the familiar room. A shadowy figure jumped, as Suki raised her hands in alarm, setting her feet in a fighting stance. Sokka, unwilling to let her fight alone, grabbed the nearest object next to him- which turned out to be a fork- and brandished the utensil as though it were a mighty sword.

“Wait, guys, it’s me.”

The figure moved out of the shadows, revealing the face of the Fire Lord himself. Suki immediately relaxed, arms falling to her side, as she leaned against the table beside her, a light smile on her face. Sokka dropped his fork and shot him a smile as well.

Zuko returned their greetings with an awkward wave. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep,” he gestured vaguely. “I can leave if you-”

“No please, join us. We’d love to keep you company.”

To Sokka’s surprise, Suki was the first to answer. He had always assumed that neither Zuko, nor Suki knew each other well enough to be comfortable with this, but the casualness in her tone said otherwise. Huh. That explained why she was so protective towards Zuko when they’d first met, much deeper than simply a protector-protectee type way.

The three sat at a table, exchanging stories about each other, more personal than it had ever been with just Zuko or just Suki. They fell into a steady rhythm of sorts under the light of the comforting fire. Sokka told tales of how he’d always felt inferior to his talented friend group. Suki detailed her life in Kyoshi Island, and the members she’d lost during battle. Zuko kept the topic vague though, telling them about his banished mother, cruel father, and his sister, but never specifying much of anything. They didn’t push him to either, Sokka and Suki, and instead waited for him to come to them on his own.

The three continued meeting for the next few months, all of them opening up a bit more with each day, until they all found strength in their nights together. It was on one of those nights that Sokka had noticed the fire from the hearth lighting Zuko’s hair a burgundy, only a shade darker than Suki’s, noticed the crinkle of his eyes when he smiled, noticed the-sPIRITS ABOVE, HE LIKED THE FIRE LORD.

~*^*~

Sokka spent the next week partially panicking, and partially planning how to disclose this to the closest companions he’d had in years.

He’d already known he had liked Suki for a while, loved her fiery protectiveness, but he hadn’t thought to think that he’d like Zuko’s steady flame as well. He’d once heard the phrase, ‘A house divided could not stand,’ but this was different than that. This wasn’t a house divided, it was a heart having enough love that it could love two without lessening it for either. And he was absolutely, completely in love with them both. They may have only known each other for five months, but he still could feel a hole in his heart when he thought of leaving them. Sokka had fallen fast, and hard, that much was certain.

The day of his departure came closer by the day, and he couldn’t put this off any further. Worst case scenario, Sokka has to change his name to Wang Fire, get plastic surgery (or grow a beard, one of those two), adopt a child, erase all records of said adoption, and move to the Earth Kingdoms (one couldn’t be the ambassador of their country without having amazing plans).

Needless to say, he really hoped he didn’t have to resort to his backup plan.

Sokka had sent the letters out that morning, telling the messenger boy-Lee- to not send them until after the weekly palace break in debriefings. And so he waited by the duck pond, watching the water swirl with every paddle to drown out his thoughts.

“Hey, Sokka,” Suki had her arm around Zuko, the two approaching the pond to join him. “What did you want to talk about?”

Sokka took a deep breath, before speaking again. The whole story came out, his friendship with Suki, and how it evolved to romantic feelings. How Zuko had become close to them as well, and the day in the kitchen when Sokka realized his feelings for him as well. How he loved them both, unwaveringly, even though they’d known each other for five months.

“-and I get if you hate me now because of this, so it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me any longer.”

Sokka had his eyes squeezed shut, preparing for the worst, but all he felt were two hands intertwining with his own.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re not going to leave you for this.”

It was Suki, her reassuring voice causing him to open his eyes.

Zuko, who had gently placed a hand on his shoulder, spoke next.

“We’re not going to leave you, not ever.”

There was a pause, a sense of relief spreading through Sokka. They didn’t hate him! Well, that plan went way better than he thought it would. He should have known, they were both so compassionate, and understanding, it would’ve been hard to see them not let him down gently. 

Suki was the first to break the silence. “And for what it’s worth, I like you too. Both of you.”

Zuko gave a nod to them both before speaking as well. “I care about the two of you more than I thought I’d ever be able to care for a person.”

“So,” Sokka’s voice almost broke from emotion, “how are we supposed to do this?”

“I’m not sure,” Zuko said hesitantly, “but we’ll figure it out together.”

Suki reached over to grasp Zuko’s hand as well. “Together.”

And they sat there, enjoying each other’s presence, hand in hand. It was positively perfect… that is, until the ducks began getting annoyed over the lack of attention they were getting, and splashed the three of them as an act revenge.

[alarawriting]

52 Project #15: The White-Haired Boy

They called him Alyn Ysmai, the White-Haired Boy.  In the village he came from, it was said he had fallen from the sky as a child, carried on a shooting star.  His skin was white as the clouds, and his hair as white as the Moon, and his eyes the golden color of wild animals.  From earliest days, it was said that the Lady of the Moon had marked him for her own, for his sight in the darkness was like that of the night beasts, while the sun blackened and blistered his moon-white skin. Later it became even more apparent that the Moon had favored him.

None could resist the charming spell of his words, his eyes.  Like the Moon, he mesmerized.  All the young women and not a few of the young men threw themselves into his arms, desperate for his love.  Not a few of these killed themselves afterward, too, when he abandoned them for a new lover or cruelly rejected them.

In the 25th year of his life, he still had the form and features of a boy, but a boy so beautiful none could take their eyes from him. To men who had never before considered another male attractive, he seemed almost a woman in his beauty, and they gave him anything he asked.  He was as precocious in mind as he seemed slowed in his growth; when 13, he completed his Passage to manhood by trickery, and since then had made three fortunes and become Captain of a vast Company, specializing in the acquisition and sale of information, as well as the dispatching of skilled assassins.  All the other Companies in the city of Tylar trembled in fear of Alyn Ysmai, and his every word was law.  Some grumbled, quietly, that Alyn Ysmai sought to make himself a Lord, as they had in some of the barbarous lands of Lysar.  But they grumbled this very quietly indeed, or they vanished, never to be seen again.

In truth, the charge had teeth.  Alyn Ysmai held a kind of court, where people seeking favors from him came to grovel and beg.  Sometimes it pleased the White-Haired Boy to grant their requests.  More often, it pleased him to shred their feelings, humiliate them, ruin them, or else steal their souls and make toys of them.  Few, few women dared go to him; ever since the Captain of a rival Company killed herself for love of Alyn Ysmai, none who sought men for their night's pleasure, male or female, went to the White-Haired Boy unless their need was very great.  The old and hardened, the men and women who loved only women, these were the only ones safe from loving him, and these faced other dangers of the soul instead.

There were those who said he was the son of the Lady of the Moon, one of the star angels fallen out of the night sky.  Others said he was a demon from beneath the ground, with his skin that could not bear the daylight.  It was people possessed of the former opinion that Alyn Ysmai surrounded himself with.

One day in his 25th year, as the White-Haired Boy held his "court", an old woman was brought to him.  She had the reputation of a seer, but none of the psychic Companies would take her, claiming she was a charlatan who prostituted whatever Gift she had.  Her only son had betrayed his Company and broken his bloodpaper, and so a deathpaper had been placed on him.  She had come to beg Alyn Ysmai to use his influence to save her son.

His gold eyes bored into her own, and it seemed to her he could see all she desired, and more; all her pains, her tragic memories, all her deficiencies and the weaknesses in her heart.  Almost, she cringed from his gaze-- she was not a very brave woman.  But though she was not brave, and though she might be called a trickster, still she loved her only son.  So she bowed deeply, instead.  "My lord of the white hair, my humble bones groan with the honor you place on my shoulders, agreeing to lower yourself to see me.  Words cannot describe my gratitude and humility..."

"Then don't waste them,"  Alyn Ysmai said, and his smile was as cold as ice. "I am not terribly fond of lowering myself to see gutter trash like you, old woman.  Apparently you convinced my assistants that you were worth my time; either you've got a treasure unheard-of hidden in those rags, or you've a silver tongue.  In which case, it would look very attractive if I melted it down and made a necklace out of it.  So which is it?"

The woman quailed at his vicious words, all the more terrible for the mild, somewhat bored tone they were spoken in. Trembling, she prostrated herself at his feet.  "O most noble lord, I have had a vision concerning your exalted self.  Poor as a seer though I might be, still it is said that the gods may choose base vessels for their lofty messages, and who can gainsay the will of the gods?"

"Oh, you have a vision.  Concerning me.  No doubt, something about how I will be successful in love, or achieve wealth, or something.  Since if you came with some doom­saying prophecy, you wouldn't expect a gift for it."  He yawned, ostentatiously.  "You have no way of knowing how tired I am of every halfwit who fancies herself a seer telling me things about my future anyone could have guessed from looking at my past.  If this is another of those tedious predictions, I don't want to hear it."

"No, no, nothing like that, noble one! My vision concerns your true nature, and your rightful position among the people of Tylar. Indeed, the people of all the land of Taldyr!"

"Oh, don't tell me.  I'm the chosen of the Lady of the Moon, right? I do get tired of this. Guards..."

"Wait! My lord, you don't know your true nature-- it's even greater than anyone had predicted!"

That had gotten his attention.  He leaned forward slightly, gesturing to the guards to hold their places.  "So tell me then, base vessel of lofty messages that you claim to be."

She dared not look at his eyes, or he would discern the truth of her message soon enough.  She had to make him believe it.  "My lord, as you know, four days ago was a night with no moon.  It was on that night that I dreamed.  I dreamed I went out into the street and looked up at the sky, and I could not see the Lady's face.  I called out, 'My lady Moon, don't leave us behind! Don't leave us in darkness!'

"Then the stars spoke to me.  They said, 'You fool! You call to the sky for the Lady, when she dwells on the same ground as you? Your brains are addled, old woman!'

"I asked, 'How can the Lady be on the same ground as me? Surely any ground I walk on must be too unworthy for her exalted self...'

"They replied, 'Do not overestimate your importance, gutter slime.  Your actions are so totally meaningless that they can have no bearing on the Lady's actions.'

"But then one of the stars said, 'Wait, brothers and sisters.  Feeble, old and unworthy this piece of human trash may be, but she may yet perform a valuable service for us.  After all, she is not the only human who does not know what magnificence walks among them.'

"'That is true,' said the other stars.  Then they said, 'Our Lady walks among your people, in the very streets of your city, trapped by her enemy the Sun and unaware of who she truly is.  We will give you a task worthy of far better than you, old woman, and no gods shall help you if you fail it.  You shall find the Lady and inform her of who she truly is, and ask her to take her position of worship.  For if, trapped on Talla in the body of a human, she does not receive the worship of her loyal servants, she will pine away, and the Moon, her visible manifestation, will fade forever from the sky.'

"'But she cannot be among the people of Tylar!' I protested.  'For her loyal worshipper and chosen servant, Alyn Ysmai, would surely have found her, seeing as he knows all that transpires in this city!'

"They laughed.  Then they said, 'Oh, yes, Alyn Ysmai knows everything-- except the secret of his birth.  Perhaps you have forgotten, old woman, that in other countries, the Moon is worshipped as a man.  As lord of desire and love, the god you call the Lady of the Moon is not bound to the shape of a woman-- she contains within her the essence of the masculine, as well. Go and tell Alyn Ysmai that he is no mere servant of the Lady of the Moon-- he is the Moon, trapped in the form of a white-haired boy on Talla, bound by his enemy, the Sun.  He must know himself for what he is and be worshipped, or he will never achieve the strength to break the bonds the Sun has placed on him and return to his rightful place in the heavens.  Tell him, old woman!'

"And then I awakened.  I feared to come to you at first, believing my dream only the foolish fancy of an old woman.  But then I remembered the legend, that the touch of the Sun corrodes your skin. There have been others favored of the Moon, but it is the birthright of all humans to touch the Sun and be warmed. If the Sun is inimical to your existence, my lord, then you cannot be human.  Your substance is of an entirely different nature, and the Sun is its ancient enemy.

"Is it true, my lord? Does the touch of the Sun truly burn your skin? Are you the Moon in human incarnation?"

Alyn Ysmai stared at the old woman, shocked to his core. Always had he believed he was touched by divinity, but never that he was divinity himself.  Could he believe that? Dared he believe that? If he was not the Moon, and claimed to be, would not she withdraw her protection from him, as punishment for his pride?

Yet-- if he was the Moon, it would explain a very great deal. It would explain his power to see into the hearts and sometimes the minds of others, knowing what they felt as if it showed on their faces even when they showed no sign, and sometimes knowing their thoughts as if they had spoken them, even when they had made no sign. That was no seer's power, no psychic's trick-- that was a far greater power than the humans of Talla had, and he had it.  Why? Why did the sun sear his skin? Why was he so pale, as if all the color had been drained from him, when even the babies never bronzed by the blue-white sun were born brown? All around him had black or red hair, curled tightly, loosely, or waving-- his was white and straight as moonlight.  All around him had eyes of black or brown-- his were tawny gold. The men of 25 years that he knew were muscular and tall-- he was yet small and slight, with the beauty but not the strength of a woman, as if he were yet a boy.  Why?

If he were the Moon, trapped here by the Sun-- oh, that would explain it all.  A deity in human form could not be expected to look human.  The Sun's substance would corrode the Moon's skin, naturally.  And he could not grow to full manhood as long as he remained ignorant of his true nature.

No wonder people loved him whenever he wished, if he was the god of desire and love.  No wonder people threw their reason away for him, lost their willpower to his, when will and reason were gifts of the Sun, if he was the Sun's ancestral enemy.  It all made beautiful, perfect sense.  He felt a sudden rush of warmth for this old woman, who had shown him the truth of what he was.

"Yes,"  he said. "Yes, it's all true.  Now that you tell it to me, it's so obvious I wonder how I could have failed to see it before.  I am the Lady of the Moon."  He stood, and graciously helped the old woman to her feet. "You've done me a great service, old woman,"  he said. "Is there any service I can do for you, as a token of my gratitude?"

"If you would, my exalted Lord,"  she whispered, her eyes cast at the ground. "My dear and only son, the delight of his mother's old age, has had a deathpaper placed on him by the Athysuvyras Company.  If you would only use your great powers to make them rescind the papers and let him join a new Company..."

"I'll do that,"  the White-Haired Boy, now revealed as the Lady of the Moon, told her. He took from her the details of the case, and dismissed her.  Then he dismissed all those who sought an audience with him.  Turning to his subordinates, he said, "You've heard what she said.  Do you believe it true? Will you accept me, not only as your Captain, but as your goddess?"

As one, all of them bowed deeply.  His second-in-command, a woman he had never found attractive enough to seduce but who loved him deeply, said, "We will follow you even to death, my Captain and Lady, my god.  Command us, and we will follow."

"Then we all go to the temple of the Moon-- to My temple, tonight.  There are a few matters I wish to discuss with My priests."  Already he had shifted into the dialect used only in myths and religious services, the speech used by the gods to mortals.

***

In the temple, the Lady's priests awakened as their goddess's manifestation first began to brighten in the sky.  They went about their duties as if this were a day like any other, until they heard a clamor outside.

One of the priests went to the door, and saw there the White-Haired Boy, followed by a hundred or more.  It was well-known that Alyn Ysmai was the favored of the Moon, and so the priest opened the gates.  "What brings you to the temple this fine night, sir?"  he asked.

Alyn Ysmai looked at him with an expression of cold fire, and the priest suddenly wanted to wilt into the ground beneath and die. "You will address Me with proper respect,"  the White-Haired Boy said.  "It has been revealed to Me today that I am your Goddess, taken flesh in the form of a human male.  I wish to address all of My priests.  Call them from their duties and have them assemble in the main courtyard."

Stunned, the priest managed to stammer, "Y-yes, my lor-- my Lady..."  He turned and ran, to bring the news to the other priests, his mind in turmoil.  How could it be that they had not divined the presence of the Lady in their midst? Something had gone terribly wrong.

The priests came out from the chambers where they worshipped the Lady with their bodies, men and women with disheveled hair and hastily-donned ceremonial clothing.  Hairbrushes and makeup flew about as they tried to restore themselves to the beautiful aspect they should present, before their goddess should arrive.

Then finally the White-Haired Boy strode into the room. He had dressed in the garment of a priest himself, and was made up to be unbearably beautiful.  None who looked at him could disbelieve that he held feminine essence in himself, nor could they disbe­lieve that he was Desire incarnate. His followers mingled with the priests and prostrated themselves in the courtyard, except for the bodyguards who stood behind him.  In his pale white beauty he seemed to glow like the moon itself, and this is what he said:

"Listen, priests of My temple! Today it has been revealed to Me that I am not merely the favored child of the Moon.  I am the Moon herself, taken flesh in My male aspect.  The Sun, my ancient enemy, has trapped Me here, giving Me a male shape in a place where I am worshipped in My female aspect. But look at Me! Can you not see in Me the duality of My nature?"  His voice became seductive, his whole body sensuality incarnate.  Every lover of women saw a woman in him, while every lover of men saw him as a man, and all adored him beyond belief.  "Is there anyone here who does not desire Me? Who does not think Me beautiful? Who would not die for Me, should I ask it?"

"No one, Lady, no one!"  the prostrated priests and followers chorused.

He beckoned to one of the followers.  "Stand up and be counted!"  he called to him, and the man stood.  "Do you not love Me?"

"Yes-- yes, my Lady! I will do anything for You!"

"Take your knife and plunge it into your breast for Me, then,"  Alyn Ysmai said.

Mesmerized by the burning gold eyes and the beauty, the man did so, and died with a cry of anguish and ecstasy as his own knife pierced his heart.

As the man fell dead, Alyn Ysmai said, "From this day forth, all of you will direct your worship to Me, to My fleshly aspect, as well as to My heavenly manifestation.  You will obey My every order without question, and serve the desires of the flesh I wear.  If I tell you to break all your bloodpapers, to murder your employers, to make the streets run with the blood of those who worship My enemy the Sun, you will do it. And I will reward you with My presence, and with fortune in love, so long as you please Me."

***

They built Alyn Ysmai a throne in the temple, and brought him the finest brocades to wear, the finest delicacies to eat.  He enslaved the hearts and minds of those who opposed him, or claimed he was no god.  If they hated him too much to be enslaved, his followers and priests would compete to devise new and interesting ways of putting them to painful death. People broke their bloodpapers and murdered their employers at his order, just as he had said, and when deathpapers were placed on those who had committed the crimes, his worshippers would rise up against that company and devastate it.  The streets ran with the blood of those who worshipped the Sun, or sometimes, any god but Alyn Ysmai.  Those who earned his gratitude had great rewards granted them, and led enviable lives. Those that disappointed him were required to abase or humiliate themselves, or sometimes to commit horrible suicides.

And through it all Alyn Ysmai grew very bored.

He showed no sign of aging, of developing a more manly body. Worship satiated him, but gave him no mystic strength to command the heavens, or any other of the great powers that should be his by right.  And his pleasures had to grow progressively more unusual to appeal to his jaded soul.

Finally, one night he had a dream.

In the dream he saw a woman, and she was mirror to himself, with long hair the color of moonlight, and eyes the color of night. Her body was perfection, and more than perfection, and he fell immediately in love with her, desperately and completely.

"Alyn Ysmai,"  she said, and her voice was the music of the night.  "I've heard a great deal about you."

"Have you?"  he asked, and his mouth was dry.

"You're very beautiful,"  she said.  "Truly, you are favored."  And she smiled at him with biting sharpness.  He could not tell if her smile was a mockery, or if she meant what she said.  For the first time, his gifts deserted him, and he could tell nothing about her, affect nothing of her.

"You are also very beautiful,"  he managed.

"Yes, I am, aren't I?"  she said, and stepped toward him.  

She drew him into her embrace, and it was like nothing he had ever experienced.  It was more real than any dream he had ever had-- more real, in fact, than reality had ever been.  And when she took him in love, there was more pleasure than he had ever imagined, more than he could easily comprehend.

Then she faded like smoke out of his arms, leaving him unfulfilled and despairing.  He called out to her...  and realized that he was awake.

Desperate with unfulfilled desire, he summoned one of his priests, a beautiful woman trained in all the arts of pleasure, to his bed.  But she was empty, hollow, after the woman of last night.  He felt dirtied by her touch, and experienced no enjoyment, only the release of a physical pressure.  His mind and soul were left as unfulfilled as before.  

For hours he lay in bed, throughout the burning day, trying to regain the dream he'd lost, but to no avail.  Finally, sick to the soul, he rose with the moon, dressed, and glanced out the window.

She was standing in the courtyard below.

Alyn Ysmai was down the stairs faster than anyone should be able to move.  But when he reached the courtyard, she was gone.  

"Did you see a woman here?"  he demanded of a priest passing by.  "A woman, with hair and skin as light as my own?" In his desperation, he forgot the terms of godly address, and spoke just as he had when he was thought an ordinary man.

"No-- no, my Lord,"  the man said.  "I saw no one."

"Did you see her?"  the White-Haired Boy demanded of other priests, searching the entire courtyard.  "Did you? Did you?"

Finally one said, "I think I saw a woman like that heading out the gates, my Lord."

Like a man possessed, Alyn Ysmai headed for the gates, searching for the woman.  Already he knew that he would never know pleasure, real pleasure again, never enjoy anything in life again, until he found her.  Without her, his life would be empty and meaningless.  And when he found her, she would become the reason for his existence.  He would worship her, as he himself was worshipped, and give her everything he had, and in return she would give him pleasure far beyond the domain of mortal men.

So he went into the city, and demanded of passersby that they tell him where she had gone.  He had none of his bodyguards, but the force of his need was such that even those who hated him answered him readily.  It did no good.  The fragments he learned indicated that she had somehow drifted out of the city, like a flower blown on the wind.  He turned and left the city, hiking out into the wilderness to seek her out.

In the day he sheltered from the sun under the rich brocades his worshippers had given him, and still he searched.  In the night, he drove himself without food, without sleep, crossing the wilderness alone, and still he searched.  And for days and nights he searched, until days turned to weeks, and then to months, and then to years.  And still he searched...  for his life would not be complete until he found her again.

In the city, his worshippers tried to follow him, but found that the moon was too dim to find him by-- it clouded their vision, somehow. And slowly they awoke, as if from a dream, and realized that their goddess in male cloak would not be returning to them.  So they resumed the old patterns of worship, and the life of the city returned to the way it had been, before the arrival of the White-Haired Boy.

***

In the heavens, the Lord of the Night, master of sleep and dreams, and his sibling the Lady of the Moon, stood in the palace of the sky and looked down.  Alyn Ysmai still continued his desperate quest for the woman who had stolen his soul-- she who was none other than the true Lady of the Moon, herself.

"I'm not sure I should have let you enter his dream,"  the Lord said.  "You've stolen his soul, sister, and doomed him to wander all Talla, searching for you."

"Surely you don't think the punishment was too extreme,"  the Lady of the Moon said, surprised at her brother.  "The White-Haired Boy brought chaos to the city he dwelt in. He toyed with the hearts and minds of others, and destroyed people for no better reason than his own pleasure, or to alleviate his boredom.  If anyone on all Talla could be called evil, it would be Alyn Ysmai.  Surely you must realize how much he deserved his fate, brother! I did nothing more to him than what he did to countless others."

"I know,"  the Lord said gravely.  "For what he did, the White-Haired Boy deserves a thousand punishments, and I don't grieve to see him tormented the way he tormented so many others.  But I question your motives, sibling."

"My motives? Why do you question--"

"When he won the hearts of all his family, so that they spoiled him and gave him all he desired, you smiled on him.  When he tricked people of their birthrights and of their bloodpapers, you clapped your hands in delight like a small child.  And when he played with the hearts and minds of others, enslaving people to his desires, robbing them of will, making them his toys, you laughed and beamed down on him.  He was your favored child, agent of your pleasures and your manipulations.  It wasn't until he grew arrogant enough to believe himself you, to steal your worshippers and rain blood in your name, that you grew angry enough to punish him."  The Lord of the Night gazed sternly at his sister.  "You destroyed him, not because he was evil-- for he was evil even before he took your temple, made so by the gifts you gave him.  No, you destroyed him for the sake of your own pride."

And the Lady of the Moon could make no reply, for it was true.

***

They say the White-Haired Boy lived a long, long time, and spent all that time searching for the Lady of the Moon, never finding the cruel goddess again, nor regaining her favor.  Some say that he wanders Talla still, calling her by the name "Beloved,"  calling to her as he searches.  If you cross his path, these say, he will doom you to a devastating and unrequited love, to make another share his anguish.  Others say he died a long time ago.  But even those turn aside when they see a pale form in the distance, on a moonlit night, or when they hear the wind crying a name.

***

Translator’s notes:

Aside from the Great Diaspora, when the people of Laon fled their original homeworld, and the world of Scamara, which according to their legends wasn’t settled by willing Laon’l, there is very, very little evidence of Laon’l space travel prior to being contacted by the Galactic Confederation. This is understandable; prior to the Diaspora, the Laon’l perceived space to be the realm of demons, while the chthonic realms of their planet’s depths were understood to be the realm of their afterlife, cradled in the peaceful bosom of their Mother. After the Diaspora, Laon’l saw space as the realm of their tormentor, the Daishenéon Emaroth (the title translates as either “Great Empress” or “Greatest of Demons”.)

However, it cannot be denied that on the new world of Laon, the technology for space travel existed, and the Laon’l leadership has always tended to be conservative and controlling – a combination that often leads free-thinkers, iconoclasts, and members of minority cultures to flee their homes. The Laon’l leadership is known to have suppressed any knowledge of individuals fleeing Laon, in the past, but archaeologists have found evidence of attempts to build spaceships. Until now, however, we’ve found no evidence on Laon’l presence on any world other than Laon and Scamara.

This particular legend comes from the continent of Taldyr on Talla, and has been understood by the Taldyrese to be fictional, or possibly to be based on the actual exploits of a charismatic leader with albinism. However, there are certain factors that suggest that this is not the case.

-          The White-Haired Boy is presented as unusually sensitive to Talla’s sun. The blue-white sun of Talla is in fact a serious problem for the rare Tallese albinos, and for humans of the “Caucasian” subgroup and Draigoili of the “anthela” subgroup, but only Laon’l are known to actually die of radiation poisoning from a full day of exposure to the Tallese sun (during summer, or near the equator, and on a cloudless day). The exaggerated sensitivity the White-Haired Boy supposedly had to sunlight in legend sounds significantly more like Laon’l sensitivity to the Tallese sun than to the sensitivity Tallese albinos exhibit.

-          The White-Haired Boy, if he existed, would almost certainly have had to be psionic to demonstrate the abilities he supposedly had. This might simply be a convention of fiction – on Earth, another low-psi world, legendary figures have abilities that in reality would require powerful psi, as a matter of routine. But Alyn Ysmai is actually the only Tallese legendary figure to demonstrate abilities that seem to fall in the range of telepathy, telempathy or expathy; most Tallese trickster figures or legendary heroes have abilities that cannot be explained by psionics, such as shapeshifting, flight, abnormally high strength, et cetera.

-          “Fallen from the sky as a child, carried on a shooting star” : any version of the Alyn Ysmai legend that covers his childhood at all makes reference to this part of the legend. The resemblance to a spaceship crash-landing is obvious.

-          “had the form and features of a boy”, references to the femininity of the White-Haired Boy – Laon’l are significantly more neotenous than other humanoid species, and typically have less sexual dimorphism. To a Tallese of a thousand years ago, a Laon’l of 25 Tallese years would look much more like a teenager, and would appear more androgynous than the average Tallese teenager.

-          Talla’s star is visible in the sky of Laon, often during the day. It’s one of about ten stars that writings of Laon’l who believed their species should return to space spoke of attempting to reach.

-          Laon’l and Tallese are not interfertile without modern genetic engineering, and some variants of the Alyn Ysmai legend make much of the fact that he fathered no children. No variants claim that he did have children. With the amount of coitus, the number of partners the legends suggest he would have had, and the social status he had, it’s implausible that he wouldn’t have had children if he were fertile at all.

Of course, all of this is circumstantial evidence; without access to Alyn Ysmai’s remains, we have no way of proving for certain his species. However, it’s fairly strong circumstantial evidence.

Given the value to identifying evidence of pre-GalConfed Laon’l space travel, we suggest that an archaeological expedition to Talla to attempt to determine whether the White-Haired Boy actually existed or not, and to potentially recover whatever may be left of his remains, should be funded within the next five years.