aunteea

[writingmoth]

Characters Out Of Context

tagged by @isabellebissonrouthier (thank you!)

rules:

include one character quote — of your choosing ⁠— from each chapter of your wip(or as many chapters as you'd like).

give absolutely no context, save for what's between two parts of an interrupted sentence, should that occur. you may mention who said it.

have fun, no pressure!

tagging: @author-a-holmes @little-mouse-gardens @ anyone else who wants to play!!

for ANTISNOWWHITE:

these are from a VERY rough half-finished first draft i wrote almost 4 years ago. story has changed a lot since them but here's my chaotic child valerian (other characters are too irrelevant in this draft tbh. which is why this version of the story died halfway through it):

ch01: “I know who I need to see,” he whispers and turns to the wolves. Seven pairs of cunning eyes stare back at him, shimmering like divine stars in the night.

ch03: I didn’t open that door by mistake, he thinks, knowing Medra is listening. I wasn’t lost. I was never lost.

ch04: I was raised by wolves, he thinks. I can do anything.

ch06: This is the end of one world, Valerian thinks, and the beginning of another.

ch07: “My name,” the rightful heir to the throne says, “is Valerian.”

ch08: Valerian snorts. “She has always had a flair for the dramatic.”

ch09: Valerian shrugs.. “You will have to, it seems. But you will have my heart. If I don’t tell you,” he smiles. “Put a knife through it.” Again, silence. Valerian arches another eyebrow. “Well?”

ch10: Valerian, though, stopped listening after their second sentence. His face lightens up. “A village, you say? And new clothes?” He smiles and it’s the first genuine, happy smile Ira has seen from him so far. There is no malice in it, no mischief. “There must be many people living there, doesn’t it? Even so far from the capital?”

ch11: The grin widens. I’m coming, mother.

ch12: Valerian shrugs. “Works fine for me.”

ch13: Valerian’s smirk widens. “I’m pleased to disappoint.”

ch14: “Don’t worry,” Valerian says. “I can deal with a bit of cleaning.”

ch15: “But you wanted him to die,” Valerian continues. “It’d be so much easier, would it not, if the one who destroyed so much and killed so many, died from his wounds? He would become a tragedy. A sad tale vosteyans would repeat for years to come. But,” Valerian can’t stop the anger from bleeding into his voice. “He just wouldn’t die.”

for FANTASY ROMANCE WIP:

my plan for fantasy romance wip is to have rowan as the only pov character, but ironically he hasn't said a word in the ~2k words i've written for the story so far lol so here is few choice words from other characters:

ch??: The faerie yanks him up, hand going yet again to his throat. The black horse advances and the god glances at him for the first time, only for the shortest of seconds, but it is enough to send a shiver of fear down his spine. The faerie is still talking, their words barely registering for Rowan; I found him, he is mine, he came outside, why are you denying me what is mine, the mortal is mine, mine, mine…

cheating a little, but the first words of loifa aka the god of the forest aka the love interest:

ch??: Rowan’s mouth goes dry. The rider’s voice is quiet, but sharp, and the first forest buckles under its weight, its reverie slowing to a crawl. Once again, Rowan can’t make out any words, but this time no meaning reaches his conscience and he is left in the dark, listening to the heavy tone of the god he has feared his whole life. The horse steps forward and the forest flinches back, a wave of whispers spilling from its new epicenter, and those Rowan understands. Anger, resentment, fear, and, below it all, a resigned, bitter, almost blind devotion.

[the-chick-of-the-air]

Hello my lovelies!

Wow ok I’m sorry I know it’s been a while- I kinda got into a writing slump that wouldn’t let me out, however I’m feeling like I’m getting back into things! Yay!

I want to thank all of you for your continued support in my writing adventures, I seriously can’t describe how much it means to me when I get feedback and love on my work, one of my favorite things to do is make people happy- or really just feel anything- with my writing and I love hearing about it so thank you thank you THANK YOU!!! 🥰❤️

So, now I’m back with a gift! A very long fic that took me way to long to get around to finishing but I wanna share! So here, have this!!

Sorry if the length is too, well, lengthy 😅 I do so hope you enjoy it!

Edit: have added a cut due to length, read below!🥰❤️

Some Wicked Type of Love

Cardan stared down at the vial he held carefully, the greenish liquid sparkled as it sloshed around with the subtle shakes he gave it. This. This would fix everything.

“So, he just has to drink that? Nothing else?” Rhyia asked, unnerved. That unnerved Cardan, his elder sister was hardly ever shaken, so seeing her nervous about something didn’t sit well.

The imp with golden skin smiled thinly. Despite her obvious skepticism, he was the one Rhyia had told Cardan about, the one that could fix his problem, rid him of his ailment.

“That is all.”

Rhyia’s eyes narrowed into slits, “And it won’t hurt him?” Despite how she, along with the rest of his siblings, chose to brush him off more often than not, she did care for him on a certain level. It was why Cardan had approached her in the first place. He trusted her alone to follow through with this task.

“The young Prince shall remain whole and hale. It is to my understanding that he is now indebted to me?”

Cardan was about to protest when Rhyia spoke first, “I will take on his debt to you. When you need a favor, come to me.”

The imp’s smile widened, “Oh it is not a favor I seek in return. Simply bring him back to me once the… effects of the cure have taken hold.”

Cardan didn’t like how ominous that sounded. Nonetheless he nodded to his sister and they moved to leave.

Once they had turned away, they missed how the Imp’s smile grew impossibly wider and a silent laugh fell from his lips.

~.~

“Are you sure about this?”

Her constant questioning was beginning to grate on Cardan’s nerves as they trekked back to Hallow Hall. “For the last time, yes. I am profoundly certain in my decision. Will you let it alone now?”

Rhyia hummed and stopped walking. When Cardan realized she was no longer beside him, he stopped as well and turned to face her. She was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t puzzle out.

“Having the love of a mortal is-”

Cardan turned away sharply and began walking again, “I do not have the love of a mortal! One simply plagues my thoughts, and this is the only way to cure it.”

Rhyia jogged to catch up with him. She linked her arm through his, “All I was going to say was that…being in love with, or having the love of a mortal, is no reason to feel shame. Many of us have loved them, dearly so. The General, our father. Even I have known the affections of one.”

Cardan stopped short. That couldn’t be right. Yes, there were some Folk who took mortals as consorts and lovers- they were good for cultivating many children. The General’s love, he knew, had ended in tragedy. One that produced the very person he so sorely wished to be rid of. His father had an affinity for many a thing unusual, and having Val Moren at his side was just that. Cardan had just always assumed it was out of need for a seneschal who had an undying loyalty to him. But Rhyia?

He glanced at her sideways and she held her chin up higher, “As I said. I am not ashamed of who I have come to adore. Many think them beneath us, I find that to be wholly untrue. They are born, they live vibrant, beautiful lives, and they die, just as we do.”

Cardan shook his head, “They are dirt. A fleeting thing made of dust and water, gone before they can live fully if they do not stay here. They are beneath us.” A practiced excuse, and his sister knew it.

“You feel the need to run from what you do not understand. Do not want to feel. The choice is yours but know this: You are a prince. You may love whoever you see fit to love. Mortals may be weaker than we are, but their ability to love is stronger even than our own. When they find someone fit to adore, they put their entire existence into loving them. They feel it deeply and should you find yourself the object of their affection, there will be nothing they will not do for you,” She looked at him pointedly, “It is an honor to be loved by a mortal.”

Cardan was silent for a moment as her words sank in. The vial in his pocket felt heavier, somehow.

An honor. Cardan had never been granted anything akin to honor before. And as thoughts of auburn hair and rounded ears flashed through his mind, he realized he never would be granted such a thing. He shook his head,

“Even if that were true, my issue does not stem from running from the affections of a mortal.”

Rhyia smiled carefully at her brother, “Of course not. Simply from the possibility that she will not love you as you love her.”

He balked and tugged his arm from her hold, stalking the rest of the way home on his own. He did not love a mortal. He just couldn’t get thoughts of her out of his mind. Her name played on an indestructible loop in his brain, carefully preserved memories of her every sneer and glare followed him into his dreams and emerged with him in his waking hours. She wouldn’t leave him alone.

The liquid in that vial would fix it. It would erase her very essence from each corner of his brain, every fold she inhabited, like a sprite infestation of the mind. He would be rid of every thought, every memory, every feeling he had ever had for her.

Without any further pondering, he lifted the vial from his pocket and uncorked it.

Before he even got inside Hallow Hall, he brought it to his lips.

He threw back the potion and blessedly forgot Jude Duarte.

~.~

Lessons had never been a source of joy for Cardan. In fact, he would go as far to say they were a bane of his existence. Knowledge and learning, taking precious time to become scholarly when he could have been lounging about instead.

An odd absence in his chest pulled at him. He felt as if there was something about lessons that should have- usually would have- brought him some level of entertainment, of satisfaction. Looking around, his comrades by his side as they set up their blankets and baskets on the great lawn for the day, there was nothing amiss.

And yet there was something…

“Here they come.” Locke muttered conspiratorially, looking at someone approaching over Cardan’s shoulder. Valerian leered and Nicasia glanced in that direction before scoffing and looking elsewhere.

Had they all met someone at a revel recently? Someone worthy of their torment? Surely, they would have told him had that been the case.

Either way, he wanted to be included, so he turned as well.

When he caught sight of her, he lost his right to breathe.

There were two mortal girls, they were linked at the arm and looked exactly alike. Twins, highly uncommon amongst the Folk, though it happened often enough for the term to be familiar.

Despite there being two of them, his eyes immediately caught on the one to the right.

She was gorgeous.

Her auburn hair was twisted into a knot at the top of her head, a golden net holding it in place along with a few decorative pins. She was wearing a simple tunic with a crest across her chest that he instantly recognized. The family crest of General Madoc. He had mortal charges?

She clutched her basket in one hand and clutched her sister’s arm even closer. She was whispering something to the other girl and when she glanced up, she locked gazes with him.

It felt as if time had frozen.

She stared at him for a moment, brown eyes boring into his. It was the most beautiful color he had ever had the privilege of seeing. What a shame she shared a face with the girl next to her, her beauty was so striking that it deserved to be all her own. Even so, she was- as far as he was concerned- far more breathtaking than her twin.

She was alarmingly attractive. Distressingly beautiful. The product of tortuous, glorifying nightmares. He needed to know her, needed to speak to her. What did her voice sound like? Was she bold or soft spoken? How long had she been in Elfahme and why had he never encountered her before?

This ethereal creature… he could feel his heart beating so quickly it was growing painful, he had to force himself to take a breath least he pass out from lack of oxygen.

“Who is that?” He knew his voice was little more than a strained whisper as he continued to stare at her.

As soon as his mouth moved, it seemed to shatter some hold that had settled over her. Her eyes narrowed and she gave him a glare so delightfully heated that he could feel it burning his very blood. She was a fiery one.

Her lips pulled into a sneer and he immediately wanted to know what she would taste like. Some strange, horrid concoction of bitter and sweet, no doubt. He had to know.

He could see Nicasia looking at him strangely from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze from the mortal as she moved to an empty area on the grass with her twin in tow. He watched as they spread out their blankets and settled down.

“The Duarte twins? Madoc’s filthy mortal brats? Cardan, are you feeling well?” She asked, rare concern lacing her voice.

He would wager he’d never felt better in his life. He felt something in his chest- the previously empty and wounded area- light up as though something finally came to life in him, as though he were finally whole.

“What’s her name, the one on the right?” He ignored the strange looks his friends gave him, never looking away from the Duarte twin that had enraptured his attention, though she kept throwing disgusted sneers his way every time she looked up to find him still staring.

“Jude?” Locke inquired, glancing gleefully between the twins and the prince.

Something in his mind snapped into place, and he finally understood what had been missing, Jude.

Her name looped around his thoughts, over and over.

Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude…

He needed her. He felt it, he…

Cardan Greenbriar was in love.

~.~

Waiting for lessons to end was nearly unbearable, the only consolation Cardan got was from staring at the object of his affections throughout the day.

Each time she caught him staring, she would glare and turn away sharply, as though his gaze had branded her. Each time it sent a thrill through him, something he had never felt before, even with previous lovers. Even with Nicasia, who was sitting right next to him through the whole day.

It was perhaps hasty on his part, this whole bodied acceptance of his feelings, but Cardan was never one to curb his indulgences. After all, when the Folk fell in love, it was often that it happened deeply and all at once. This was nothing out of the ordinary, and the prince looked forward to trying to shower this lovely fiend in affections as soon as he could speak with her.

As soon as they were released for the day, he issued Locke to distract her twin, having seen how they stole glances at one another during their lessons. The fox like faerie was all too happy to oblige and Cardan found himself trailing his new love off the palace grounds and into the forest, glad she hadn’t bothered to wait for her twin.

It took about two minutes for her to stop, once they were out of sight of the palace behind them. She turned and her gaze locked onto him.

He continued forward until he was a mere foot away from her. He said nothing and simply stood there, watching, waiting for her to speak first.

“What do you want?” Oh, how delightfully sharp her voice was! Even drenched in irritation, it was soothing as a balm to his aching head after listening to Nicasia’s grating prattle all day. She looked momentarily surprised at herself, as though she were normally much milder. Though she quickly shook it off and continued to glare at him.

He decided to forego beating around the bush, she seemed like the type of person who enjoyed being direct, getting straight to the point. That spot in his chest she now occupied throbbed a bit, “You’ve captured my attention. You’re quite alluring, Jude. That is your name, correct?”

A completely logical question, but she looked at him as though he had two heads. Actually no- there was at least one two headed faerie out there- she looked at him as though he had just asked her to shoot him through with an arrow, like he was an idiot in need of mental help.

“Is this some kind of trick?” Her voice was dripping disgust and her hand twitched as though she wanted to reach for something but thought better of it at the last moment. Her eyes narrowed further and he found himself wishing she would look at him normally so he could see her eyes fully. They must be exquisite this close up.

He shook his head, shifting towards her, she took a step back, “No trick. I know I’m being forward, but I find you most enchanting, perhaps we can walk together?” he smirked at her. He knew how to be charming, had won a few hearts that way. However, she sneered at him as though she were completely immune to it- even better!

“’Perhaps we’… What are you doing, Cardan?” she nearly growled his name and he found he quite liked the way it sounded coming out of her mouth.

“Expressing my interest in you,” he stepped closer and grabbed one of her hands gently, tried not to laugh when she casually pulled it away and unsheathed a small dagger at her hip, “As I said, you have my attention.”

She looked confused a moment, even slightly concerned. It vanished quickly and she held the dagger a little higher. Outright threatening him. Yes, he was definitely in love!

“What has gotten into you? Some sort of sickness the Folk get? Have you been drinking already?”

Already. For some reason that stuck in his head. ‘Have you been..’ it sounded as though she knew of his habits. Granted it was no secret that he preferred various wines over most other beverages any day, but only those who paid attention to him knew that. He was under the distinct impression they had never met before.

That spot in his heart throbbed again, painfully.

“You…” He took a step towards her and she backed up several paces, her blade gleaming between them.

“If this is some new way of trying to get me to back down, you can drop it. It’s not going to work. You’ve managed to pit Taryn against me already, and as long as you leave her alone, we have an understanding but that’s it. I won’t hesitate to hurt you if you touch either one of us. Now leave me alone.”

Cardan didn’t understand half of what she was talking about. Who was Taryn? Her twin perhaps? He hadn’t bothered with her name. How did Jude figure he had pit them against one another? And how had he and Jude come to an agreement of sorts if he had never met her before?

As she backed away, dagger still held offensively as though she expected him to lunge for her, he realized he was going to need answers to his growing list of questions before he tried to pursue her further.

He held up his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture, watching as she continued to move away before she was far enough to turn and hastily make her way from him. He gazed after her a moment, wishing that had gone differently, then turned and started to trek his way home, suddenly in a somber mood.

~.~

Jude huffed out a breath of frustration as she re-sheathed her dagger, trying to figure out what on earth had just passed between her and Cardan.

You have my attention. That was normally a bad thing, but the way he had been gazing at her…she could feel her blood heating and it wasn’t all due to hate.

So wrapped up in trying to figure out what had just happened with Cardan, Jude didn’t realize someone else was following her until it was too late.

She jumped an embarrassingly high distance into the air when Princess Rhyia appeared beside her.

“Oh! Uh, your highness.” Jude muttered, dropping into a low curtsy.

She tried to keep her wits about her when the princess gripped her arm and looped her own through it. She smiled warmly at Jude, something she found slightly disconcerting, and said, “Walk with me.”

Her tone was gentle, but Jude understood a command when she heard one, and Rhyia was all but physically dragging her by the arm, so she really had little choice in the matter.

“Tell me, young Jude. What do you think of my brother?”

Jude didn’t bother asking for clarification. If Rhyia had followed her all this way, it was likely she had just seen whatever it was that had transpired between Cardan and herself. She was about to blurt out “I hate him, as he does me” when she stopped herself. It probably wasn’t wise to badmouth him to his sibling. Not to mention it felt…odd, to say that all of a sudden.

The princess caught her hesitation and squeezed her arm gently, “Please, speak freely.”

Well then, “Um…we don’t…we don’t see eye to eye.” A huge understatement, though Rhyia simply nodded, keeping quiet as she waited for Jude to go on. “I take it you know why he was acting so strangely back there?”

For a startling moment, the princess looked upset. She schooled her features quickly, though. “Usually, I would feel it is not my place to meddle. But Cardan… it is no excuse, I know, but… he doesn’t always understand his own feelings.”

Jude bit the inside of her own cheek. She had quite a bit to say when it came to Cardan and feelings. She kept quiet as his sister went on.

“I shouldn’t be the one to reveal all the details, but I can tell you that he feels very strongly for you. So strongly in fact, that he went to extremes to stop feeling for you. It would appear his plan backfired.”

Strong feelings? Backfired? What? “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Cardan approached me yesterday, asking if I knew of a way to rid him of feelings he couldn’t stand to feel. I took him to an imp I know of, who gave him a potion, a…cure, he called it. It would erase the thing that ails one from their memory.”

Jude was putting the pieces together now. For an inexplicable reason, something tugged at her chest, dark and ugly. “He…wanted to forget me?” She asked carefully.

Rhyia smiled, obviously happy Jude was understanding, “You were haunting him. He couldn’t cease thinking of you and it was driving him quite mad. So, he sought a solution.”

“A solution?” Jude scoffed, the hurt in her chest growing, “So rather than…than talk to me, he decided to erase me from his memory?!” She couldn’t fathom why this truth hurt, why she even cared-

“Well, he tried. I’ve been watching him today. It seems that, if anything, his feelings for you are much clearer now.” She nodded to herself, as if this was a completely logical situation.

Jude felt like she couldn’t breathe. Cardan, he felt something for her? Something other than hate?

She thought back to a piece of paper, her name dashed out over and over and over, like he was trying to immortalize her, pen her down on paper so she should never be forgotten.

Suddenly, she was recounting every interaction they had ever had, every weighted look and spiteful word. Each trick and torment and barb thrown at one another. The way they relentlessly targeted one another, trading blows in every form one could think of. She recalled the way Taryn begged her to let it go, to quit this twisted game but she couldn’t. She would not forfeit. She didn’t want to stop.

And he was just as guilty. Each time they went toe to toe, he wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t leave her alone, almost as if he needed this game they played just as much as she did, just to feel... and each time, there was an air of something heavier behind it all, something unspoken and deadly and mutual.

Something like obsession. A twisted kind of heart-breaking. A tragic back and forth dance. Evil, heated, something intense, some…

Some wicked type of love.

She didn’t realize she had stopped moving until Rhyia pulled her arm from Jude’s. They were nearing Madoc’s estate, but Jude found she didn’t want to go home just yet.

“He…We, uh…” Great, at a loss for words in front of royalty. But Rhyia just smiled wider.

“I heard there is a way to bring back memory stolen by a potion, a kiss of true love or something of that nature. But you didn’t hear it from me.” The princess leaned in and placed a sisterly kiss on Jude’s cheek before she winked and walked away.

Jude stood there, stupidly staring at nothing just off the edge of Madoc’s estate for far longer than she would have liked to admit.

She… she loved him? She wanted to be wrong, but it felt like she had just discovered the answer to everything she never realized she was questioning. Her chest ached, she had to get to him. What had Rhyia said? ‘kiss of true love’? Like from a story book? Ridiculous. And exactly the kind of thing that would happen to her.

Jude squared her shoulders, resigning herself to her decision.

Without giving herself a chance to reconsider, she turned on her heel and started to backtrack to Hallow Hall.

~.~

Cardan was only slightly surprised when Jude traipsed through his open balcony doors an hour later. He wasn’t sure what she had against using the front door like a normal person but epic declarations of love were often much more, well, epic when preceded by dramatic entrances.

He liked her flair.

“Somehow I knew you would show up.” He was genuinely glad to see her, though if she was here to tell him off again, he wasn’t sure how he would manage. He would find a way, though, for her.

“Shame on me for being predictable.” She muttered, moving further into the room. She regarded him coolly, “You really don’t remember me?”

Cardan held up a finger and moved to his desk. He picked up an empty vial that was sitting atop. He held it out to her.

“I assumed I was at a revel last night and that was why I couldn’t recall anything, however today’s events are making that hard to believe.”

Jude took the vial from him, careful not to touch him as she did so. She examined the glass, rolled it over in her hands a few times. She glanced back up at him and he was happy to find her eyes open wide. He was right, a gorgeous color.

“I assume you don’t know what this is.” She shook the vial.

He shook his head, “I figure it’s the cause of my lapse in memory. Now I wonder what was in it and why I needed it,” He looked her over carefully, head to toe and back up again, “And why it seems tied to you.”

She pocketed the vial, though he wasn’t sure why she would want it, “Have you spoken with Rhyia today?”

Rhyia? “What does my sister have to do with this?”

“She accompanied me home, don’t give me that look- she snuck up on me. She told me that yesterday you asked for her assistance in acquiring something. A cure, of sorts.”

Cardan ignored the jealousy he felt against his sister-how unfair that she got to walk Jude home- and mused over Jude’s words. A cure… “I don’t recall being ill before last night.” He crossed his arms, watching her. Even the way she just stood there was astounding. He could look at her forever and it still wouldn’t be long enough to give her the attention she deserved.

“Well, you weren’t sick, exactly. You…wanted someone erased from your memory.” Her voice went quiet. Odd, from what he knew of her thus far, that seemed extremely out of character for her.

“That would explain the memory loss.” Horrible attempt at a quip, though her mouth quirked up at the corner, he got her to smile! Despite her obvious upset, his chest warmed. He wanted to see her grinning, to hear her laugh. Perhaps he would, one day.

“Yeah, well, it definitely did its job.”

It hit him, then. He had wanted to forget someone, his comrades had displayed obvious distaste for the Duarte twins even though Cardan could not recall ever meeting them. Rhyia had gone to Jude after their…talk in the woods, and Cardan hardly believed it had been Jude’s twin he had wanted to forget.

“You.” He said quietly, watching her shift her weight from one foot to the other, “I wanted to forget you?” He hardly thought it possible, she was a delight! He had never known what the missing piece of his entire existence had been until he laid eyes on her for the first time- ok, not first time, rather the first time he remembers. All the same, looking upon her beautiful countenance now, he could quite confidently declare his past self absolutely mad for attempting to purge her from his thoughts.

Jude shrugged and stepped closer, “I guess I was haunting you. And you don’t like knowing there is something out there that you can’t have.”

His heart plummeted. He wished it to soar at the obvious fact that she seemed to know him so well, however her words crushed the fragile hope that had been budding within him since he left her alone in the woods, “And I can’t? Have you?”

Her gaze was intense and piercing when it landed on his own. Again, he marveled at the color. The rich hues of brown one found upon the forest floor, the cracked deck of a mighty ship, all the copper and wood and soil of the earth blending together to solidify themselves in the alluring shade of her eyes. He couldn’t breathe.

She forewent answering his question, “Your sister told me there is a way to restore your memory, if you would have it.”

“Yes.” He found himself breathing, already enticed at the prospect of remembering this wicked girl before him. Obviously, his past self had been an idiot for trying to forget her. He cleared his throat, “What is it?”

She took another step, then another, stopping only when they were so close he had to tilt his head down to meet her eyes.

“I’m not sure it will work, but I know you’ll find it entertaining.”

Gently, he reached up to wrap a lock of her hair around his finger. She didn’t seem to mind as he asked again, “Is there a chance? That I could have you?” He’d never had anything solely his, never won affections simply because someone had cared for him. He knew if she could be that for him, he’d want for nothing more in his life ever again.

Slowly, she lifted a hand to his cheek. He found himself leaning into it readily as she pulled his face closer to hers.

She seemed to hesitate, considering something before she answered, “So long as I could have you.”

He would have answered, ‘Anything, you can have anything you want’ had she not closed the distance and pressed her lips to his.

~.~

The memories came rushing back all at once and they nearly knocked his breath out of his chest. But he only gave his history with his gorgeous villain a passing thought as more pressing matters settled themselves in the forefront of his mind.

Namely, the fact that Jude was kissing him. Jude. As everything he knew about her, about them fell into place he had to wonder if he was dreaming. But no. He’d imagined this very moment before and… It had all his hopes, his expectations paling in comparison to the actual sensation. She was warm and her mouth was soft even as she roughly slanted it against his own. Even when showing affection, she felt the need to be in control and he lent it to her willingly.

In the back of his mind, he recalled having always assumed that their first kiss would be intoxicating and drenched in delirium- why else would either of them fall into the other without a fight, if not for the moment being brought about by emotions stronger than they could contend with? And while it definitely lived up to that expectation, he had also always assumed it would be over rather quickly. That she would pull away abruptly, muttering about mistakes and small, ironic acts of vengeance.

That is where the likeness between imagination and reality broke away.

In reality, as soon as her mouth met his and she gave him a moment to feel the onslaught of memories, she stepped closer, forcing him to bend slightly to accommodate their height difference. The hand that had been resting on his face slid up, over the pointed tip of his ear and into his hair while her other arm fastened tightly around his shoulders, pulling him flush against her.

He fumbled for a moment- which was really something wasn’t it? Wasn’t he the more experienced of the two? How thoroughly she had undone him already!

Once his bearings were back intact, he slipped his arms around her waist, molding himself to her. He marveled at how seamlessly they seemed to fit together. A lock and- wait, no. No Locke. Two pieces of the same puzzle finally snapping into place.

His mind gave over to a blank sort of haze, melting along to the backdrop of her name looping around his thoughts, Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude and for a bare moment he understood again why he had forced her out of his mind, for she was the only thing in the universe that had the power to drive him into pure madness.

He would happily crash into insanity now, with her wrapped around him, teeth tugging at his bottom lip demandingly. He obliged to her wishes, would cater to her every twisted whim if she would have it. One of his hands snaked into her hair as he deepened their kiss, he felt her fingers dig into his back harshly in response. He felt that should he die now, he would leave this existence fulfilled and whole.

Once the need for oxygen became unrelenting, he pressed his mouth firmly against hers, once more, and pulled away.

Again, his imaginings of this moment ended here or before, with her pulling away, that beautiful scowl etched across her perfect face, muttering foul and soul wrenching words like mistake and useless.

And again, reality outshone even the darkest parts of his mind. As soon as he pulled back, she stayed near a moment, waiting to see if he would come back. When he didn’t, she sighed through her nose, the sound almost content and she peered up at him.

His eyes locked on hers as she let her hands explore the breadth of his shoulders, the column of his neck which she glanced at briefly before her gaze snapped back to his own, full of something like longing.

When he didn’t move, said nothing, she tilted her head to the side as she tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. “Well?” was all she said.

It took him a moment to register what her meaning was. She wanted to know if he remembered her, their history. He blinked, “I…remember.” He stated cautiously. He couldn’t lie of course, but he almost wanted to. So terrified was he of what that knowledge would mean for them, for what had just transpired between them. His imaginings never prepared him for this.

Or for what she did next.

A smirk, more of a small smile, really, bloomed across her features. That in itself was jarring but since this was Jude and ambition was what drove her out of bed in the morning, of course she took it further than simply jarring. She leaned in again, placing a kiss to his cheek, along his jaw, his nose even, before she finally claimed his lips again. It was past shocking. Had he known memory loss would lead to this he would have sought out his sister for help much sooner.

Though really, why was she even doing this? Just yesterday she had been scowling at him every time they glanced at each other, just an hour ago she had been threating his life, warning him to back off. What had changed?

This, while thrilling, wasn’t ideal. Insecurity was not something Cardan was overly familiar with these days, not when it came to her. This information is what had him puling away gently, looking at her in earnest.

“Why the sudden interest?” He debated throwing a quip or scathing remark of some sort her way, a sudden and desperate need to get back to their malicious bantering washing over him, though he shoved the thought away. He was genuinely curious as to what changed her mind.

She shook her head as she finally left his embrace, “I had just been thinking and realized that somewhere along the way, strong feelings of hate had shifted into strong feelings of…something else.”

She looked put out at the thought that she had developed any sort of emotion for him other than contempt, but he had to agree with her sentiment. He bristled to think that that potion hadn’t done its job right, but it had done something. Before, he had been content to half-lie to himself, to convince himself so profoundly that he was not enchanted, mind and body and soul by this girl before him.

What was it Rhyia had said? It is an honor to be loved by a mortal.

Cardan felt that maybe there was honor in loving one, too.

He bit the inside of his cheek before asking, “And you meant what you said, before?”

So long as I could have you.

“Yes.” She sounded so sure. He liked to believe she wasn’t lying. She rubbed at the missing tip of her finger as she watched him, “So, where does that leave us?”

Bring him back to me when the effects of the… cure have taken hold. He’d gotten more than he had bargained for. He held out his hand to Jude.

She reached for it instantly and he tried not to let it show how deeply that affected him, his head already wanting to go fuzzy with nothing but the thought of her.

“I owe a visit to a certain imp.”

Fin

And that is that! Please let me know your thoughts! And I am so excited to be sharing again and looking forward to what I plan to write in the future☺️ (jeez it is so long I’m so sorry for everyone who has to scroll all this way😬😅)

Here is my tag list, as always please let me know if you would like to be added, I’m always excited when people ask me tag them and it is my greatest pleasure to oblige!❤️ (also- over 500 followers now? What!? You guys are amazing and I honestly don’t think I would have come this far without you guys! Sending all my love!🥰)

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[isp-annafer]

Part 2 of the Jeralt-adopts-everyone AU :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Warnings for cussing since I know some people don’t like them.

–

To no one’s surprise, Edelgard and Hubert don’t acclimate quickly to their new life.

Both had grown up pampered and spoiled by their noble upbringing. Or at least, Hubert had. Edelgard had the fun life experience of being experimented on for at least a year before she was dropped on Jeralt’s lap. The issues brought by her trauma alone was a handful to juggle.

She did not trust adults. Ergo, Hubert also did not trust adults. It made interacting with them hard. Both of them never let the older mercs touch them, always watching warily under a veneer of politeness. The younger mercs were, at the very least, not on her shitlist, but she still kept them at arm’s length. Even Byleth wasn’t spared, though with how Jeralt had assigned them to teach Edelgard and Hubert the ins-and-outs of travelling alongside the mercs, he was hoping they would strike up a friendship at least.

Honestly, his kid was due for some social exposure to people their age.

Life on the road was hard for them. For Hubert, there were no servants at his beck and call. Jeralt refused to let the kids be pampered and waited on under his care. If they came with him, then they were going to do their own share of work, no matter how much glowering Hubert did.

That isn’t to say Hubert was an arrogant brat. Well, he kind of was in that he hadn’t realized how much his servants did behind the curtain in his day-to-day life like keeping their bedding warm, clearing out bugs, and the like, but he gritted his teeth and went about doing them anyway once he was taught.

No, Hubert got into a tantrum once he realized Edelgard would have to do her own chores as well.

Jeralt wouldn’t budge, and for a while, Hubert had taken it upon himself to serve Edelgard before the girl herself put her foot down and ordered him to stop.

Edelgard, for her part, took to the chores with a solemn determination that was honestly admirable. She would wake up early to help with breakfast or break the camp or she would help tend to the horses, any job that needed doing.

He hadn’t realized how much work the girl put on herself before Hubert ran up to him carrying an unconscious Edelgard, his arms shaking because he wasn’t used to carrying her weight.

That was not a good day at all.

“El,” Jeralt greets the next morning when Edelgard finally wakes up. He’s sitting on the ground beside her bedroll where they had laid her down the night before. The tent they were in was open to a bustling merc camp outside. There was a dagger near where her hands were. Hubert was sleeping on the bedroll beside her, his hand clutching the hem of her tunic as he slept. All there to make her feel as safe as she could be. “You do know you’re still recovering, right? I reckon you didn’t get much exercise in that sh—that place we took you from.”

Edelgard sits up, slowly, and on shaking arms, and purses her lips, looking down at her lap where she was kneading her blanket. “With my unique position in this group, I do not want to be a burden to you all.”

“You’re not a burden.”

“Your complaints seem to imply we are so.”

Jeralt winces. “Yikes. Alright, I do complain,” Jeralt concedes. “–but that’s just me being an old man. I complain about a lot of things. Laslo’s cooking, for one. It always ends up slightly burnt. My horse, Valerian, who’s always demanding treats. And, yes, you and Hubert were a responsibility I didn’t expect to be saddled with, but that’s not your fault. You’re not a problem to be solved. Neither of you are. I was mostly complaining about your fathers—” Because, what the fuck, Jeralt can’t even imagine leaving Byleth to a total stranger. “I’m sorry it came out that way.”

Edelgard frowns, looking at him as if he were spouting nonsense. “You make us do tasks. Chores, rather. Chores that are more cumbersome now with our addition. Even so, they are our responsibilities as part of your group.”

More clothes to wash, more mouths to feed, more equipment to stock up on and carry. She’s not wrong. “Yes,” he says slowly, mostly to gather his thoughts. “You two do need to pick up your slack. None of us can cater to both of you all day, and hiding you both in plain sight means we can’t slack off on our own jobs as mercs. We’re always moving, always looking for work. We never stay in one place for too long, and when we do, we can’t act like we’re guarding you both. At least, not out in the open. We still have to dye your hair. We can’t do anything about your eyes, but white’s a pretty noticeable color.”

Edelgard tugs at her hair. It was worryingly thin, and, yes, bleached to an obvious white. Jeralt does not want to consider what in Flames they did to her to make it that way. “What color should we dye it as?”

“I was thinking brown.”

She frowns. “No. I might be too recognizable that way. My previous hair color was brown as well. Perhaps… like Byleth’s? Their hair is unique, but it would be easy to pass us off as cousins, or even siblings, if we look vaguely the same.”

Huh. Jeralt hadn’t thought of that. They could also just disguise her as one of the merc’s nieces, but Edelgard looked like if there was anyone she would prefer to be regularly in contact with, it was Byleth. “Sure. Why not. And Hubert?”

“Brown,” she says after some deliberation. “He looks far too much like Marquis Vestra already. He can be… a childhood friend? An assistant of yours recommended by my—my mother?”

Jeralt shrugs. “Eh. We’ll work on your backstories later. Back to the topic at hand, yes, you have to do your part to keep us running smoothly, but there’s a difference between what you can do and what you should do, and I’d prefer you both concentrate on the former.” He leans forward and fixes her with a glare, resisting the urge to tap her on the nose when he sees it scrunch up. “Got it? You’re still recovering, kid. If you can’t do something, delegate. Ask someone else. The mercs aren’t strangers to picking up the slack if one of our members are too sick to do things on their own. You worked too hard and fainted, and that’s on me because I hadn’t noticed, but don’t do it again, alright?”

Edelgard nods.

He stands, cracks the ache in his neck that had developed as they talked. “And tell Hubert once he’s done pretending to sleep that it goes for him, too.”

Hubert does not make a sound, but his fist on Edelgard’s tunic clenches.

Edelgard hides her smile behind her hand. “Ah, of course. Thank you, Captain.”

–

A new problem comes, surprisingly, when they rented half an inn to house the mercs for the first time since Edelgard and Hubert had joined them.

Times when they could afford to have enough rooms for all the mercs were rare and, in fact, did not happen at all because Jeralt’s policy was that if they wanted to rent a room in an inn, they pay for it from their own paycheck, and many of his mercs were stingy.

Edelgard and Hubert didn’t have paychecks, but Jeralt was being paid to take care of and protect them, and he used some of that money to rent a room in the inn of the next town when the rainy weather of the past few days made both kids miserable and wet. The border between Adrestia and Faerghus seems rife with rainfall these days, though it’ll hopefully peter down once they cross into Faerghus proper.

A proper bath and an actual bed cheered both right up, and they shared their room with Byleth, who had taken to watching Edelgard like a hawk after her fainting mess the other week. The whole thing had led to Hubert and Byleth bonding over their shared resolve to watch over the Edelgard, much to said girl’s consternation, and it was both amusing and endearing to watch.

Hubert went from glaring at everybody except for Edelgard to glaring at everybody except for Edelgard and, sometimes, Byleth.

Jeralt was very amused to note that Byleth seemed pleased about it.

So, yes, they all shared a room, and for Edelgard’s peace of mind, only three of them stayed there. Jeralt slept with the rest of the mercs that weren’t on nightwatch.

(Jeralt’s a paranoid bastard. Just because an inn felt safe didn’t mean it was. He had discrete patrols near and around the inn. Rotating shifts of nightwatch disguised as a group of mercs being rowdy and enjoying a night of revelry. Everyone traded jobs and those who slept in the inn only did so for half a night before trading with the ‘drunken’ ones for their own nightshift. Jeralt was careful.)

It was both a good and a bad thing that Jeralt heard the screaming on his shift. He went from joking around with their resident healer over a mug of drinks to kicking the door to the kid’s rooms down with a loud bang, fist raised and ready to grapple with whoever had dared attacked them.

Except what he found wasn’t an assailant.

It was Edelgard, standing on the bed and nearly backed into the wall beside it, staring wide-eyed at something in Byleth’s hand while Hubert hovered in front of her. Byleth was as far away from Edelgard’s bed as they could be, tucked into the other corner of the room with their hands closing in on something furry and wriggling.

“Alright,” Jeralt says. “What happened?”

Byleth turns to him and opens a fraction of their cupped hand. A rat’s head pops out between the opening, chittering.

Edelgard does a full body shudder and, very slowly, presses herself against the wall like she can melt into it. Her eyes were wide, but unseeing. She looks pale

“Get it out,” Hubert hisses, before pulling Edelgard into his chest to block her view.

Byleth looks down at the rat before presenting it to Jeralt like a gift.

Jeralt sighs.

“Boss?” One of the mercs behind him says, and oh, right, some of the nightshift guys were with him. Already, he can hear the doors of the other rooms being opened, the sleeping mercs likely being woken up by the commotion and ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. “Is there a problem? Are the kids okay?”

“They’re fine,” he calls out. “Back to whatever you all were doing.”

They were obviously curious, but Jeralt trained his people well, and they all back off. Soon enough, the inn was back to normal, as if nothing had disturbed its peace at all.

“Alright,” Jeralt holds out his hand. “Give it so that I can throw it out the window or something.”

Byleth pulls the rat back into their chest. It squeaks.

“Or you can just chuck it out yourself,” Jeralt says. He does not smile at the blank look Byleth shoots at him.

Byleth very pointedly walks past Jeralt and out the room, stepping over the broken door as they do so.

Now, Jeralt allows himself to smile, though he tamps it back down soon enough when he sees Edelgard still shaken.

“Okay.” Jeralt tugs at his braid as he thinks. “I’ll get you three another room. I’m sure there’s a spare we can rent since this one is, ah, out of commission for now.”

 Fuck. He’ll have to pay for the door, won’t he? Damn it.

The other two kids are quiet, and then—

“Were you really going to throw the rat out the window?” Edelgard asks, her voice small at first before gaining more surety. She pulls back from Hubert’s hug. 

“Nah.” Jeralt shrugs. “I’d be in big trouble if it landed on someone. No, I’d just take it outside or something.”

Edelgard huffs, covering her face with her hand as she does so. She fixes her clothes and gingerly steps down the bed, Hubert following behind her.

Jeralt eyes her before nodding. No injuries or anything he can see. Even if she were injured, he’d know since he’s sure he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Hubert and Byleth. “So you don’t like rats?”

“I hate them.” The vitriol in her tone makes him blink. She’s been rather polite, if a little headstrong, in the scant few weeks he’s known her, still too hesitant to push her boundaries with him. “I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to hear them. They were all I could—I woke up and I heard—I thought—” She worries her lips.

“Alright,” he says as he slowly pieces together what he can from her words. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Edelgard shakes her head.

“Right. So you don’t like rats. That’s fine, but you know you might run into them a lot, right? Our line of work tends to lead us to places that aren’t exactly clean.”

Edelgard does not look pleased about it, but she nods. “I understand. It had taken me by surprise. If I was prepared beforehand, I can control my reactions and I will not be caught unprepared again.” Edelgard’s brows furrow as she glares at the ground.

“Don’t be hard on yourself.” Jeralt crosses his arms, mostly to stop himself from patting her on the head. It was upsetting to realize that while it was good that she was willing to face her fears head-on, those fears had come from trauma rather than some child-like whimsy most kids her age would have. “You seemed to have handled it well.”

“I screamed like a child.” She was a child. Goddess, Jeralt wants to punch whoever made her think she had to grow up quickly. “Loudly.” She winces.

Jeralt snorts. “Kid, if you think that’s the worst you can do when you’re afraid, then boy do I have some stories for you.” For example, one can fake their child’s death and run away with said child as soon as the opportunity arose.

They hear the soft thump thump of Byleth’s steps before they step back into the room, hopping over the door again.

“What took you so long?” Jeralt asks.

“There was a cat. I had to go farther.” Which, of course, would just be like Byleth to do so.

“A cat?” Edelgard says, perking up slightly.

“A cat,” Hubert says, unimpressed as all hell.

“A cat,” Jeralt says, considering it.

He looks at the way Edelgard’s face already has some color back, and there’s actual shine in her eyes when she looks at Byleth. That’s the first time he’s actually seen her interested in anything.

Maybe getting a cat would help her with her ‘rat’ problem.

–

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[vampiresuns]

🍋 Two Is A Crowd, Three Is A Party | Amparo x Rodrigo x Jacqui

Written or the @midsummer-masquerade​, Day 5, using the prompt ‘degradation’ and a little bit of ‘lingerie’, if you squint. In which Amparo has no patience for Rodrigo, and Jacqui gets to know her a little better. 1.9k words.

Posting this one day late, because it got too late yesterday.

Rodrigo and Jacqui belong to @apprenticealec​, my beloved. You can read the rest of City of Delights here.

CW: Light degradation, oral sex, anal fingering, penetration, spitroasting.

After she had ran into him after her opening performance, Rodrigo lost no time suggesting they found their own little corner to fuck. Amparo snorted inelegantly, an incredulous and amused look on her face, while Rodrigo called Jacqui over, who excused himself to the people he was talking to and began making their way towards Rodrigo and Amparo.

“What?” He said, annoyance palpable. 

“I do not fuck in little corners, I’m not you. I have a room, you inelegant thot. Oh, hi Jacqui, long time no see!”

Jacqui kissed her knuckles to say hello to her, congratulating her on her performance. 

“Why, thank you! You don’t suppose you’d like to join us, would you?”

She began running patterns over his chest with her finger, ignoring Rodrigo who complained about not being given attention. Jacqui swallowed as Amparo’s tone became sweeter. 

“You wouldn’t leave me all alone with him, would you?” 

“I’m right here.” 

Amparo rolled her eyes. “You’ll take what you’re given, and you know I don’t like brats, honey. A valid quest, just not my cup of tea. So are you going to keep complaining, or do you want me to suck your dick while Jacqui fucks me?” 

Rodrigo and her bickered almost the entire way to her room. Like Rodrigo she didn’t mind not wearing a mask, though when Jacqui asked, she shot him a witty: “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask personal questions here?” 

He was about to apologise when she smiled at him — she had a wide, beaming smile that was very charming. She explained her reasons with ease, the same presence and poise he remembered from the time Rodrigo insisted into a theatre to rob someone rich who had something he wanted. It was petty, but he was determined. Rodrigo never found it. Instead he found Amparo. 

Or rather, Amparo found him. 

He didn’t know much about her, other than what she did for a living and the fact she was a Cassano. In that way, he knew more of her family than he did of her; whether she knew or not she didn’t say. From what Jacqui remembered she was not very prone to explaining herself. Ever. 

He had no chance to take the room in, because the moment they were inside, Rodrigo was already on it. He had waited long enough for his standards, so he was already kissing Amparo, rough and fast and a lot. Amparo still made him wait a little, solely so she could give Jacqui some attention of her own, but she still was going straight to the point. As soon as she could, she handed Jacqui a bottle of oil, telling him to make her feel good. 

She began fingering while the three of them exchanged kisses and Amparo took both Jacqui’s and Rodrigo’s dicks in her hands, sandwiched between them. As soon as she was ready, she told Rodrigo to lie back, as she moved to get on her hands and knees between them — she leant against Jacqui first, her lips parting as his cock sunk into her ass slowly. Once she felt comfortable, she got fully on all fours. However, Rodrigo was kneeling back on his heels, talking some talk about doing what he wanted.

Jacqui couldn’t see Amparo but he could feel her roll her eyes. 

Before he agreed to get into this, Jacqui would’ve never thought the hottest part was going to be Amparo taking none of Rodrigo’s bullshit. First, he tried to pull her hair, which she didn’t like so she pinched his inner thigh very unpleasantly, picking at the soft skin there with her fingernails. Rodrigo whimpered, which he denied. Jacqui almost stopped moving but Amparo told him not to.

“Oh no, handsome, I think he’ll like it best if I chew him out while he doesn’t just see you fucking me, but also when he can hear it in my voice.” 

Lo and behold, she was correct. Every time Rodrigo got too cocky, or too comfortable running his mouth, Amparo pinched him. She never just pinched him too, for every thing, she had a witty turn of phra. Some were witty, some were meaner, but all of them bothered Rodrigo one way or another in a way that was both really arousing and really funny. 

At some point Rodrigo threatened to leave. Jacqui knew him enough to know he didn’t mean it. 

“Leave them, you know brat aren’t my thing.”

“I’m not a brat.”

“Oh, my mistake — you preferred ‘loser’, didn’t you? The door’s wide then, because I don’t fuck losers. I’m keeping Jacqui, though.”

“Nuh-huh you’re not.”

“Yes, yes I am.”

Amparo wasn’t even touching Rodrigo any more, and yet Jacqui didn’t miss how his cock twitched. Neither did Amparo, who sounded incredibly unimpressed. 

“Seriously?” She sighed, though with how Jacqui was fucking her, it sounded more like a moan. “Do you want your dick sucked or not, Drigo?”

To Jacqui’s surprise, Rodrigo gave in. Amparo told him to remember: no more hair grabbing, which he didn’t, and to not get too frisky — which he did anyway, gaining him more thigh pinches, but at this point, Jacqui suspected Rodrigo was into it. Still, Amparo didn’t stop sucking him off now. Instead she swayed between them, the wet moans coming from her against Rodrigo’s dick as Jacqui began pressing against her prostate. 

The longer he thrust into her, the more her hands gripped Rodrigo’s thighs. Proper grabs this time, not the retaliation pinches she was giving him before. Rodrigo came first, Amparo swallowing around him and then whipping her mouth with the back of her hand. It didn’t take him long to leave afterwards, Amparo patting his cheek and telling him to “not be too unbearable” around the party. 

Once they were alone, Amparo asked Jacqui if there was anything he wanted, her demeanour changing from contrary, to the same stuff her beaming smile was made of. Jacqui took it slower, spooning her as they fucked, changing the position. Amparo took his hand to her chest, and turned her head to share indulgent, deep kisses with him. 

She came before him, but Jacqui followed soon after, kissing her neck gently as they both caught their breaths, enjoying each other’s company. 

“Do you mind if—?”

“You get up?” She said, finishing her sentence for him. “Not at all! Let me move.”

She did so swiftly but stayed on the bed, stretching with a pleased whine and lying there for a while. She told him to feel free to take a bath if he wasn’t ready to leave yet, she didn’t mind if he wanted to wind down. As always, she didn’t elaborate if that was politeness or an educated, albeit correct, guess. Jacqui wanted to ask, but didn’t, settling for getting in the bath instead, enjoying the water and the flowers floating in it. 

He could hear Amparo move in the background, shuffling around as she hummed a song Jacqui couldn’t recognise. She was an odd woman, Jacqui determined once they were alone. Even in loneliness she carried a presence to her, something he couldn’t quite place. Pizzazz was the closest word for it. Yet, despite her fiery personality and charming frankness, Amparo was not a talker. The moment the extrovert (Rodrigo) was removed from the room, she felt no need to talk. If Jacqui was being honest with his own observations, she didn’t even do so when Rodrigo was with them. 

To his embarrassment, she caught him staring. Amparo smiled at him again. 

“I don’t bite unless you ask, or you earn it.”

“Like Rodrigo earned his pinches?”

She shrugged. “That depends entirely on you.”

She asked him if he minded if she joined him in the bath. He didn’t. Without prompting, she let him know he didn’t mind him watching — a good look was just as powerful a form of flirting than any other. She was now wearing a deep red robe that was completely sheer, and that was casted aside before she sunk into the bath, giving out a little sigh of pleasure with the temperature. 

Keeping her hair out of the way, she lied into the water as much as she could, her piercing green eyes closed, and a placid expression on her face. 

After a while, she spoke again. “You have questions.”

“Which I’m sure you won’t answer,” Jacqui said, amused. 

“Smart man… but I like you, you’ve always been the nice one. So ask if you want, I promise to at least answer one.���

If that was how it was going to be, then Jacqui better think his question thoroughly. After some moments of consideration, he fired away: “I remember, I remember from when we met you with Rodrigo that someone asked you about your family. I don’t think they noticed you never answered their question, because you sounded really excited to talk about how much you appreciate them, but Rodrigo asked you about your cousin on our way here and you simply didn’t answer. Do you never talk about them?”

Amparo sat up, turning to face Jacqui, her green eyes looking directly at him. They were dark green, like a very lush forest after the spring rains, and very, very piercing. 

“You were a scholar, weren’t you not?”

Jacqui froze. 

“As I suspected. You don’t resemble them, in the slightest, I wouldn’t let you near me if you did. You’re too good for them, clearly… but I can tell that you were,” her tone was heavy, almost sad. It didn’t sound like pity, Jacqui felt like she wouldn’t be the type, but it felt like something else he couldn’t tell. Jacqui didn’t even want to ask what it was.

“How can you—?”

“Do you really think the Valerian Cassano didn’t teach us how to spot you? Even before the Valperga joined us, the Scholars and my family have not gotten along.”

Jacqui had to admit she had a point. He knew this. 

“I assume you do not speak of them.”

“Your family cannot be anything like them—”

Amparo interrupted him in a snap. “Of course they’re not. The Scholars do not deserve to walk the same soil as my family, but that wasn’t why I said it. You don’t speak of them because it is safer, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So, what do you think Jacqui? I am very protective of my loved ones. I will not be one to bring harm to them.”

“Is all your family like this?” 

“Take a guess.”

Jacqui let out a snort, but he let the topic go, Amparo sinking back into the water and looking as if she had no intention to continue that line of talk. Eventually, Jacqui got up to leave the bath, but Amparo stopped him, peaking one eye open and smiling at him once again. 

“You know, if you’d like, I would not mind another round, if you’d like one too.” 

She paused to move towards him, the water moving around her with gentle sounds. She put her hand on Jacqui’s thigh, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. 

“I don’t have anywhere to be in a while, but the call is yours.” 

She began retreating, but Jacqui took her hand, softly pulling her back to him and kissing her. She immediately deepened the kiss; it had the same fire than before, but it lacked the rush — it was more like a constant flame, a steady movement. 

Naturally, Jacqui said yes.

[laequiem]

She kills my self control - Chapter 10

/  Includes dialogue from The Cruel Prince Chapter 25-26.

I knew Jude’s interrogation would not be a great time for me. What I was not expecting, however, was how absolutely terrified I was. She is scary, and I was so discomposed that I told her so. Even without the weapon, I probably would have told her anything she asked.

cw: unhealthy coping mechanisms (alcohol, sex); physical abuse; nsfw

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Chapter 10. You can never run from trouble

I knew Jude’s interrogation would not be a great time for me. What I was not expecting, however, was how absolutely terrified I was. She is scary, and I was so discomposed that I told her so. Even without the weapon, I probably would have told her anything she asked. The questions about Locke and Valerian were fine, but things escalated quickly. Everything started going downhill when she asked about a paper she found with her name written all over it. Questions about Nicasia and my feelings for her - as if I wasn’t being vulnerable enough already. 

Soon enough, Jude asks the worst question of all.

“Just tell me why you hate me. Once and for all.”

I cannot seem to keep still, my fingers follow the grooves of Dain’s desk. 

“You really want honesty?” I ask her, not that I have much of a choice than to tell the truth. I hope she will just take her question back.

“I am the one with the crossbow, not shooting you because you promised me answers. What do you think?”

“Very well,” it’s all I can do not to roll my eyes at the continuous threats, “I hate you because your father loves you even though you’re a human brat born to his unfaithful wife, while mine never cared for me, though I am a prince of Faerie. I hate you because you don’t have a brother who beats you. And I hate you because Locke used you and your sister to make Nicasia cry after he stole her from me. Besides which, after the tournament, Balekin never failed to throw you in my face as the mortal who could best me.”

I hold her stare. Her face betrays nothing, it’s as if she is not in the least surprised about any of it.

“Is that all? Because it’s ridiculous. You can’t be jealous of me. You don’t have to live at the sufferance of the same person who murdered your parents. You don’t have to stay angry because if you don’t, there’s a bottomless well of fear ready to open up under you.”

This is the Jude I am the most familiar with, angry, defiant and mind-numbingly clueless. Technically, I now live with the person who murdered my father. Is she so blind as to not see how scared I am, this very moment? How angry I am, at Madoc, at Balekin, at myself? 

“Oh, really?” I sneer, “I don’t know about being angry? I don’t know about being afraid? You’re not the one bargaining for your life.”

“That’s really why you hate me? Only that? There’s no better reason?”

I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. To expose my weakness, to Jude of all people, terrifies me. 

“Well?” she impatiently lifts the crossbow, “Tell me!”

“Most of all,” I close my eyes, unable to look at her as I reveal my biggest, dirtiest secret, “I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.”

You would think that telling her would lift the weight off my shoulders. It does not—it feels like I am a target, and the bullseye just got larger, easier to hit. 

She does not answer. I try to cover my face with my hand to hide my shame. 

“Maybe you should shoot me after all.”

“You’re playing me,” she finally replies.

I do not look at her. I can’t. I hear her put the crossbow down on the table, I guess she does not want to give me a quick death. My suspicions are confirmed when Jude puts the point of a knife to my chin and lifts my head to look at her. At first, I try to look away, but I eventually meet her eyes. I know she can read me like an open book, the shame, the want, the fear, and she relishes in it. I think of begging her for mercy, to make it quick. She leans towards me and I have never in my life wanted to sink in the floor as much as I do now. My eyes are wide with confusion. As I smell her iron and wraithberry scent, I am reminded of the realization I had long ago: she is my forbidden fruit. I unconsciously part my lips, ready to bite in and seal my fate.

“You really do want me,” my torturer croons, “and you hate it.”

She shifts the blade to put the sharp edge against my neck. I stay still. She has already humiliated me enough, I will greet death with my chin held high.

I wait for the killing blow, but it does not come. Instead, Jude closes the distance between us and kisses me.

I thought my imagination was grand, yet I was not prepared for this. How her soft lips feel against mine, how little I notice her inexperience. I stifle a moan and close my eyes, willing myself to enjoy what I am now convinced to be my last few breaths. 

I carefully slide my hands up her arms. I can feel her strong muscles under the soft skin of her biceps, the small bumps rising from her skin following my touch.

One of my hands snakes down to her waist and pulls her closer, on top of me, while the other tangles in her hair. 

Her lips part and I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Our teeth and tongues clash in a desperate dance and I get my first taste of poison. A rational man would stop then, her warning signal enough to keep him away. But a starved man would consider eating poisonous food, if not only to die with the comfort of a full stomach.

Clank.  I pull away, letting go of her. I had completely forgotten about the knife at my throat and now it's lying on the table. Is she not going to kill me? I laugh awkwardly.

“Is that what you imagined?”

I imagined a lot of things, but never her putting a knife to my throat.

“No."

“Tell me," she orders.

I shake my head. 

“Unless you’re really going to stab me, I think I won’t. And I might not tell you even if you were going to stab me.”

Jude gets on Dain’s desk. It looks like she’s trying not to smile. It angers me that she thinks something about this is funny, when I have been nothing but honest and unguarded.

“I am going to make a proposal," I tell her, "I don’t want to put the crown on Balekin’s head just to lose mine. Ask whatever you want for yourself, for the court of shadows, but ask something for me. Get him to give me lands far from here. Tell him I will be gloriously irresponsible, far from his side. He never needs to think of me again. He can sire some brat to be his heir and pass the High Crown to it. Or perhaps it will slit his throat, a new family tradition. I care not.”

“Get up.”

“So you’re not worried I’m going to run for it?”

I get up and stretch my legs.

“After our kiss, I am such a fool over you that I can hardly contain myself," she drawls and I feel my heart twist in my chest, "All I want to do is nice things that make you happy. Sure, I’ll make whatever bargain you want, so long as you kiss me again. Go ahead and run. I definitely won’t shoot you in the back.”

I thought she was sincere at first, but I should have known better. Nothing true ever comes out of her lying mouth. I do not know what to say, so I just say my truth.

“Hearing you lie outright is a bit disconcerting.”

“Then let me tell you the truth. You’re not going to run because you’ve got nowhere to go.”

Jude leaves the room, and I go back to the table where I was playing cards earlier. I pick up the deck of cards and start shuffling mindlessly, keeping my eyes on her as she leaves the hideout.

She is right. I have nowhere to go. I have no home, only a room in my tormenter's mansion. Even as I picture a new life far from the palace, it does not feel like home. I try to imagine a palace all for myself, where I throw parties and drink until the sun rises, where I am surrounded by females who worship me, where people laugh at my jokes and admire me. It feels as lonely as my life here.

I close my eyes and try to focus on home.

The mansion disappears. Instead, I lay in a spacious bed, in a luxuriously decorated room. I know it to be  my  room, even if I have never seen this room in my life. On my right, I see an open closet filled with extravagant clothes, clearly mine. As I look to the left, I realize I am not alone in this room.

Jude is sitting by the window, moonlight casting light on the dagger she is polishing.

I throw the deck or cards on the desk and get up with a groan. I know the spies are staring, but I don't care. I storm back to Dain's office and sit on the chair I had been tied to. Jude took her knife and crossbow back, but the dent the knife made in the table is still there. I run my fingers over it.

The kiss has completely ruined me. 

I want to taste her again, taste every inch of her skin. I want to know if she tastes different than faeries.

I want her mouth on me, her nails digging in my back making new scars over the old ones. 

I want her to keep that dagger to my throat and use me until she grows bored of me.

I want her hands wrapped around my throat.

I want her to deny me until I beg for release.

I am thoroughly depraved.

The moment she put that knife to my throat, I knew that what I felt for her was not fear. A little bit of fear, sure, but it was different from what I felt when Balekin removed his belt. 

It wasn't mere hate, either. Up until now, my fantasies of Jude were always ones where I had the power, putting her down for the way she humiliated me time and time again.

Our kind does not love the way yours do, Locke had told Taryn.

He was wrong.

What I thought was mere lust-fueled infatuation is in fact something much, much more dangerous.

I am in love with Jude Duarte.

[justtoarguewithyou]

9/27: Gratitude

my contribution to @swottypotter comfort minifest.

Remus wakes in a soft bed after his monthly transformation. With the crisp, clean cotton sheets under his fingertips, he thanks his lucky stars for Sirius. He chuckled. His lucky star: Sirius. The brightest star in Remus’s sky.

This full moon feels much better than the previous one. Remus is still angry about his mission, about the way the others have been seemingly forgotten. Dumbledore still hasn’t given him a good answer about what will become of them.

“It isn’t enough to tell them that they will be able to live with their consciences,” Remus had spat at the last Order meeting. “They’re suffering, and we’re doing nothing about it.”

Dumbledore had merely clasped his long fingers together and said, “There are many battles to fight, Remus.”

Sirius had tutted impatiently at his end of the table, and put his hand consolingly on Remus’s shoulder. Remus had bristled with anger and magic.

Dumbledore had adjourned the meeting soon after.

This full moon, the wolf and the dog ran free on the moors in Wales. Sirius had apparated them outside of a little village, and took Remus for a pint and an early dinner at the local pub. Then they went to the secluded and wild spot that Sirius had chosen for them to transform once the moon began to rise.

In the morning, after Remus had become himself again, Sirius gathered Remus to his chest, and held him, as he turned on his heel, and apparated them home. There, in the very comfortable and well-appointed flat they share (thank you, Uncle Alphard), Sirius has all manner of pain potions and salves and even Muggle medications, depending on what Remus needs.

“You’re awake,” Sirius says, coming into the bedroom.

Remus sits up on his pillows, and Sirius smiles, handing Remus a mug of his favorite post-transformation tea blend. Sirius always has the apothecary ingredients on-hand to make it: valerian root, cloves, ginger, feverfew, among other things that Remus only knows by smell. It helps with his pain, and with the dysphoria of being in a body that is not his own.

“You’re a real mensch,” Remus says, blowing on his tea; though he knows he doesn’t need to, because Sirius always waits until it is just right before bringing it to him. “I’m so glad I didn’t argue with you when you asked me to move in.”

Because Remus almost had, had almost let his pride get in the way of his accepting his best friend’s offer of help.

“I’m glad you didn’t argue, either,” Sirius nods in agreement. “That would’ve been so tedious. And look at everything we would’ve missed out on.”

Sirius gestures around the room. But Remus knows he means more than sharing the flat, with its piles of Remus’s books and Sirius’s records some strewn in front of the very nice teak stereo cabinet, but most stored inside (including The Carpenters record that Sirius doesn’t know that Remus knows about); the leather sofa that is just the right size for cuddles, and all of Remus’s sweaters with strands of Sirius’s black hair woven into the knit from the launderette washing machines (both Sirius and Padfoot shed).

Remus thinks about this person, this brilliant, kind and loving person, and he feels so warm and safe. Sirius had grown up after the fateful full moon of their sixth year, when he had betrayed Remus’s secret to Snape.

Remus thinks about this person, who has grown into a reliable, dependable, and very handsome man. No longer the brat prince.

“Sirius,” he begins, and Sirius sits quietly on the edge of the bed because he knows when Remus uses his first name, he’s about to say something important. “I just want to tell you that you mean so much to me.”

And Sirius smiles as bright as his namesake, and he waits because he knows that opening up is hard for Remus, who has always had to hold on so very tightly to his secret.

“I know I’m lucky in so many ways to have such wonderful friends like James and Peter, and Lily. But I want you to know how lucky I am that you love me. I appreciate all of this. I appreciate you so much.”

Remus leans back on the pillows, feeling raw and vulnerable. Sirius leans in to kiss his cheek near his left eye, then his right, and then the corner of his mouth.

“I love you, Remus,” Sirius says, because that’s the reason for everything, anything, that Sirius does. “I’m so very thankful for you, too. You’ve given me so much grace, and I’ll never be able to repay you.”

Sirius then nibbles a few kisses down his lover’s neck. And Remus huffs Sirius’ hair, and squeezes him close. A tear falls from his eye, and then another, as he thinks on a Sara Teasdale poem he’d memorized when he was so much younger.

His mother, Hope, had read it to him before he left to Hogwarts, to remind him that the stars would always be the same, whether over their home in Wales, or at Hogwarts. She had been worried that he wouldn’t make friends. She had always been so pleased when the letters came filled with Marauder antics.

Remus thinks on the last lines now, because they feel especially poignant:

“Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too,

The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars,

All things are changed, save in the east

The faithful beauty of the stars.”

Sirius: his beautiful star. Remus takes a deep breath, taking in the aroma of the tea, and the lavender scented soap that had been on sale, and just Sirius’ skin.

“I love you so much,” Sirius whispers. “Thank you for all this.”

“I love you, too.”

[taotrooper]

Everlasting Flower: The marketplace by the sea

Anonymous said: Can you write a little thing from the everlasting flower AU where shinha runs into Kaya please?

Anon, I don’t even know if you even follow this blog or this fic anymore, but here it is. I’m so, so sorry for taking this long to write it! Also includes some 2000yo!Kaya and Zeno moments, and Ao being adorable.

Everlasting Flower is a fanfiction AU where Kaya obtains semi-immortality. The masterlist is here.

When she turned back again, Zeno was standing next to her, flushed cheeks and palm over the left side of his chest.

"Zeno just had a heart attack," he chirped with a childish tone.

"From the shock of him getting so close?"

"Noooo, from the cuuuuuuteness!" He gripped his robes inside a fist, as if he was hurting.

"How much, mister?" she asked with a smile, pointing at the herbs.

"Three hundred rin the pack," the salesman said with a bored expression.

Kaya blinked. That sounded excessive, so she asked once more to corroborate. The middle-aged man repeated the same price, so she hadn't misheard with the sounds of the marketplace.

She gave it some consideration. Keeping up with the times was perhaps one of the most challenging problems with immortality. Languages change, attitudes change, ways of thinking change... and faster than anything, economy changes. Currencies don't always have the same worth, and supply and demand affect the value of every item. What feels excessive one day could be, perhaps, a fair value at the time. There was an era when she could have bought a whole bag for only 5 copper coins, maybe back in the first rule of the Han dynasty. They were oval coins, much cuter than the ones in use.

However, she was sure she had bought valerian at 150 rin very recently. Zeno'd gotten a meatbun with the change, hadn't he? A piece fell to the ground and a hungry stray dog tried to snatch the rest. The puppy won, as her husband happily gave it to it. In any case, yes, that wasn't the usual modern price.

"How about 200?" she chimed in.

"No haggling in my shop, baby girl. Full price or scram."

"But... if I pay 300 I won't have enough money for rice and salt, sir."

"Not my problem. Go back to your parents."

Kaya's smile slipped off. One of those stubborn guys, huh? She really needed to stock on her valerian, but their budget was tight and that was the only stand with it in stock. She wasn't going to blame the child for overcharging as she didn't know the cause. Perhaps his supplier was selling it too expensive. Perhaps it was a rare item in this city. Perhaps his family was in a pinch and he needed the money urgently. Or he could just be an ambitious jerk, but that's a dull theory.

Time to rely on the parsley.

"D-do you accept trades?"

"It depends." He scratched inside his ear with his finger. "What you've got, brat?"

Kaya rummaged in her backpack, trying to look as anxious as she could. This plan usually worked better with Zeno as a backup, so hopefully it would be fine anyway. After a minute of moving things around, she took out a satchel with a disappointed face.

"This is the most valuable thing I have on me," she murmured while she opened the satchel, and waited in silence.

"That's fucking parsley. That amount's only like 50 bucks. No deal."

"I-It's not regular parsley, sir!" she cried. "It's Tenchouan parsley!"

"Do you think I'm stupid? Never heard of it."

"It's a variety from Kai Empire, mister. You've really never heard of it? It's really famous."

"I know where Tenchou is, like everyone in Awa. It stlll looks like our parsley, though."

"Look at the leaves; the green color is lighter and they're more star-shaped."

The salesman glared at the plant.

"Okay, it looks kinda different and it even smells stronger. So what? Why do you think that makes it as valuable as valerian?"

"You see," Kaya smiled again, since she loved explaining obscure facts about flora, "Tenchouan parsley is not only appreciated for its shape, but also for its properties. It's great for cleaning your kidneys and regulating your digestion." That part was true. "Koukan parsley is also a bit good for that, but this variety is superior and highly sought by educated healers. It's rarely imported to our country so we don't know all its virtues. Royal chefs have used it for banquets in Hiryuu Castle. Some say brewing it for tea is an aphrodisiac as strong as oysters, but I don't know what that last part means?"

"That's a very detailed answer."

"That's what the peddler who sold it to us said." She bit her lip. "Sir, please! I really need the valerian."

"Hold on here, kid. Hey, Re-jil! Come over a sec."

"What?" A bearded man in his thirties from the back of the stand approached them. Kaya crossed her fingers. This guy would either help or hinder further.

"Have you heard of Tenchouan parsley?" The salesman showed him a branch.

"Yeah, man! My gramps told me about it. It's super rare and supposed to be much better than parsley."

"Is this it?"

"I've never seen it myself but I think so?"

The salesman brought Re-jil aside and they whispered some words. From the older man's expressions, she imagined he had been informed about more rumors. It seems Zeno and her must have talked to this grandfather at some point. She waited, trying to keep a concerned face.

"Well, alright. Guess we can do a deal." Kaya kept her expression while fresh blossomed branches were being packaged, not showing any relief. After all, she always felt slightly bad whenever she traded 'Tenchouan parsley' with people.

"Kaya," she heard behind her. A warm hand was over her shoulder, and she turned around to see Zeno. He held a little paper bag. "What's wrong?"

"Z-Zenooooo. I'm so sorry, I had to trade the parsley for valerian."

"The Tenchouan parsley?!" Zeno's sweet smile disappeared. "But we needed that!"

"I know, I know." Kaya covered from her eyes to her mouth with her hands. "But granny had those pains again. We ran out of medicine!"

She heard Zeno take a deep breath. Then a bang against wood.

"Listen, mister. That thing has way more worth than what you gave my fiancée. It's at least two packages of valerian, maybe three."

"Not my problem anymore. The deal is done, brat. No refunds or changes."

"I'm going to come back and buy it again from you."

"It'll be a thousand rin then."

"W-what?" She heard a pause, and then a whine. "Fine, I'll come back when I get paid on Friday. Let's go, Kaya. Don't cry, okay? Grandma's waiting."

She let out some sobs as Zeno pushed her gently far from the stand. She uncovered once Zeno let her go. He was chuckling.

"Thousand rin for regular parsley with different leaves! And the funny part is that a gullible rich guy will probably pay that much."

"I was hoping to do the trick for senjusou, but it doesn't seem that any shop carries it anymore." Kaya put the valerian inside her bag and started walking along her husband. The sea breeze brushing her dark hair felt refreshing. "Odd, huh? This is Awa."

"Well, it is hard to get in the wild. I imagine any plantation is now under control of the corrupt lord or greedier merchants than this guy. Want some chestnuts? Got them for free!"

"Nah, I'm good. Hey, Zeno! Is it okay if I go to the cape to gather some senjusou while you watch over them?"

"The one with that awful cliff?" Zeno tilted his head as he took a roasted chestnut from his bag. "I'd normally be okay with that, but this time I have to ask you not to. Last time it took me a month to find you again."

"It was two weeks, silly husband. And I was only in the water for one day at most."

"Still, I can't comb the beach and the sea for you this time. The Miss and the others might leave any time soon."

"You're the last dragon, though. They'll come to you."

"Not while I'm hiding like Ryokuryuu." Zeno munched. Kaya wondered what else the poor princess had to do to win Zeno's approval, but he was right: he had to remain close and she could get the herbs in another place and another time. He swallowed and lowered his voice. "Besides, this town makes me uneasy. You should remain next to me, just in case."

"Uneasy? It looks like any port city to me."

"You haven't noticed?"

"Notice what?" Kaya shrugged.

"Oh well. Just don't wander off alone, okay?"

Since Zeno had a good nose for danger and darkness, Kaya decided to trust him. She grabbed his arm and cuddled against him, to his delight. It was better to spend this precious time together until it was the moment to serve Yona after all. She had no doubt it would happen soon despite his indecision.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched sound in front of them.

"Pukyuu!"

They both looked around and then below, blinking several times. It was a squirrel, and not any squirrel.

"It's Seiryuu's friend!" Zeno said. He smiled wide and crouched down.

"It must be lost. Oh gosh, it's cuter from up close! Super cute!"

"Hey there! Want some chestnuts?"

Zeno offered one and the animal immediately took it. They watched, mesmerized by the puffy full cheeks and the tiny teeth biting. Once she devoured it, the squirrel jumped and climbed  up his arm, reaching for the rest.

"How cheeky," he grinned. The squirrel had managed to jump inside the bag, only her legs and tail sticking out.

"How clever!" Kaya cooed and petted the furry back. "Not scared of humans at all."

"Yeah, this little miss is so frien— Ah!" Zeno froze, his eyes reacting. Then without a warning, he pushed the bag, rodent included, into Kaya's hands as he trotted away to other stands. So much for staying close in a dangerous town!

Before she went to him, she glanced at the opposite direction. A figure taller than her was looking around with a fretted expression. Or so she thought, since a white fur and a mask covered most of his head. Seiryuu.

"Your ride is here," Kaya whispered to the squirrel. She walked to the boy and touched his shoulder. "Excuse me. Are you looking for this?" She held the bag up. The squirrel's head popped out, cheerful.

"Ao!"

The squirrel jumped up to his shoulder, piece of chestnut between her incisors. The young man's muscles relaxed. He mumbled an attempt of apology and took a bow toward Kaya.

"It's alright! I love animals and she's cute, so I don't mind."

The boy —recently named Shin-ah, Kaya remembered— nodded and turned around. He had taken two steps away when she reacted.

"Oh! Wait!"

Shin-ah stopped and came back. What now? She had called him out of a whim, really wanting to talk to him. They had been walking behind those children for so long! Kaya had other things to do so she wouldn't go to the group when the time would come. Zeno already knew about her decision and had reluctantly accepted the temporary separation. This moment with Seiryuu was her only chance to interact with either of them for a while.

But she was a stranger and he was too shy. Just striking a conversation... she had to be careful not to blow their cover. She smiled kindly, with genuine joy.

"You don't seem to be from around here. Is this your first time in a big marketplace?"

He nodded.

"I remember my first time! Everything was new and exciting, and the crowd was kinda overwhelming, but it was a special memory. Just like the sunshine making the sea sparkly." He just stared while she spoke. Kaya blushed, knowing there were piercing eyes behind. "Someone was really nice and bought me a present back then. So here, you should have something for free to remember today!"

She took his hand and put the bag between his fingers. His mouth opened in surprise. He didn't smile and Kaya couldn't see the look on his face, but she could sense the rising happiness regardless. It took him a couple of seconds to speak again.

"...Thank you." He held the gift with his two hands, like a treasure.

"No problem!" Kaya beamed. The salty breeze shuffled her short hair. "Share them with your friend and your family, okay?"

Shin-ah nodded furiously and bowed once more before running off. She waved goodbye, although not sure if he could see her. When she turned back again, Zeno was standing next to her, flushed cheeks and palm over the left side of his chest.

"Zeno just had a heart attack," he chirped with a childish tone.

"From the shock of him getting so close?"

"Noooo, from the cuuuuuuteness!" He gripped his robes inside a fist, as if he was hurting.

"He was really cute, yeah!"

"You both were really cute!" he corrected and raised his arms. "Cute!"

"Cute, cute!" she followed.

"Although he was just as cute when I first saw him," he said. "I'm glad."

Kaya hadn't gone with him to that trip sixteen years ago, but she had heard his recollections on the three little dragons constantly. She hadn't thought about that story when she gave him the chestnuts, but perhaps her subconscious had acted out. In any case, she was pleased with her gut feeling.

"Alright then!" Zeno grabbed Kaya's hand. "Seiryuu has met with the others now. Let's move on carefully before we miss them."

"Let's!"

In the end, she was glad she wasn't gathering expensive medicinal herbs by the cliffs. There were other places to buy senjusou, in other cities. But she had made a happy memory for a lonely boy who was already family, and she was thankful for the opportunity.

She heard the seagulls' cries from afar. She was certain Zeno would make a great big brother one day. And hopefully in the future, she could be that kid's big sister as well.

[thecourt-rpg]

KINGSLEY SAVAGE is a/n SIXTY-TWO year old MALE IMP that uses he/him. They are known for his talent in all things APOTHECARY and POISON, being LOYAL to his own, and CLEVER. Unfortunately, they are also known for the occasional BRASH retort, being APATHETIC in all things related to the court and a STUBBORN BRAT when cranky.

Their face claim is SEBASTIAN STAN, and they currently live in FATESWALLOW as an APOTHECARY (& POISONER).

The family Savage had once called the Winter Court their home for generations. The family had served the Queen as the palace physician & apothecary, and though most would not know it, supplied the Queen’s knives with poisons. They were loyal to a fault – provided anything Queen wished for in all manners of potions and poisons, and were renowned for their intellect and gift for their trade. They were in good standing with the Queen and her court – until one day things started to change.

Valerian Savage, old and wise had been by the Queen’s side for centuries, a family sworn oath to always be by her side. She lived within the castle with her daughter and grandson. Her daughter, Cordelia had taken to poisons like a fish to water, her talent for the craft beyond measure – and quickly something the Queen had taken notice of. She didn’t know until two years after Kingsley’s birth, that she was on the Queen’s shortlist of potential recruits of personal assassins.

The family Savage was loyal to the Queen, and there was no saying no to Her. But it quickly became something she regretted – and there was one moment, one, that she refused to follow through on a job. An important job. Very important. The Queen was furious. Cordelia’s punishment? Chimera.

And if there was one thing that Valerian prioritized over the Queen, it was family. She confronted the Queen with a boldness that few dared to voice – and after decades of loyal service to the Queen, there was no protest when the Savages cleared their chambers, and Valerian took her craft, her trade, grandson and daughter in tow - and left.

Kingsley grew up in the outskirts of the Winter Court in the woods to the east, in a small cottage with his grandmother and mother. But despite her bitter feelings against the Queen, Valerian continued in her craft, and ensured to teach her grandson everything she knew – poisons and potions and all. Family trade aside, the family craft would be sure to continue.

But, that was ages past now. While his grandmother still lives with his mother, Kingsley has taken root in Fateswallow’s historic district and put his skill’s to use: Pandora’s Poisons. The cure-alls for all ails. Potions, Poultices, Perfumes and more. Though the shop name may be a bit on the nose, if you place your questions and money just right, the man makes some of the  best poisons money can buy (on the sly, of course). “You didn’t buy it from me,” he’d tell his customers. “Else you might find a drop in your tea.” A wink.

The shop is tucked away down the cobbled and winding aisles in the historic district, a place where one can buy just what you’d expect in an apothecary. Most of the time he’ll take money, but if money’s the issue Kingsley is not the person to let an innocent suffer an ailment of this or that. He’ll not only take money in payment, but favors and information as well. He keeps a small leather book tucked away safe, a log of secrets, owed favors, and debts. (Its proved itself useful on more than one occasion.)

The shop itself is lined with wood shelves and bottles of hand brewed cure-alls, staffed by a small number of people that have somehow managed to impress or prove their worth to Kingsley – he’s either got the most ridiculous high-standards for talent or charm (in both the magical and social sense), but he’s also been known to fire (or hire) someone for the most fickle of things – don’t wear stripes like that in my presence, shoo.

He may not harbor the same sort of grudge against the Queen’s court, but he’s quite apathetic to it all – and while it may not be the most favorable of opinions and really goes against logic, he can’t help find some sort of pleasure in the last Winter Queen’s assassination. A punishment like that for someone having the slightest inkling of moral conduct? He wasn’t a fan.

He’d rather sit himself in Fateswallow for the rest of his life and cater to people that appreciated all apothecaries did, thank you very much. And from what he remembered of living in the palace – it wasn’t somewhere he could ever see himself calling home, no matter what his ancestors of generations past seemed to like about it so much.

Sure, there’s a big hullaballoo about the missing heir – and oh, the consequences! But Kingsley can be a fickle man, and while the family Savage can hold loyalty like a commandment… they don’t take very well to a betrayal of such loyalty.

At Least Three Potential Plots for Your Character

OATHS – While the Savages have broken away from the Winter Queen’s service, there’s still the matter of the family’s oath that was sworn generations past. Never officially dissolved, if the heir to the Winter Court is ever found and manages to do their due diligence in learning of their accounts… well, the past Queen had let them leave. Who knew whether the new one would call on that duty if they managed to track him down.

UNDER THE TABLE – He wouldn’t ever call his under the table dealings a black market of things you wouldn’t find on the front shelves, but, his loyalty to his clients isn’t something to balk at. One might not expect it from that sly grin and the bark of laughter to a clever joke over a pint of ale, the silly obsessions with human inventions – but Kingsley has a widely intricate web of connections throughout the fae underworld, if you could call it that.

SUPPLIER – While one can certainly buy any manner of tinctures and potions from the shop, they’re also known for buying assorted herbs and ingredients – of decent quality, that is. All transactions of this sort must go through Kingsley’s eye of scrutiny – for while the man may laugh at any manner of joke, ingredients and components are no laughing matter. His workshop is not a place for allowances of components that do not meet his high standards. Those that bring him product of good value, however, are paid quite generously for their troubles.