#tyril x raine

[distraughtlesbian]

my dealer: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called “using light and shadow magic in conjunction with one another instead of treating them as inherently contradictory forces” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯

me: yeah whatever. i don’t feel shit.

5 minutes later: dude i swear i just saw elder radimir use shadow magic without appearing to succumb to its corrupting influence

my buddy tyril pacing: the old gods are lying to us

[thosehallowedhalls]

darling, dearest, dead

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x Raine (F!human!MC)

Category: Teen

Summary: After Tyril's death, Raine has one more quest to complete. Submission for @choicesaprilchallenge24, prompt: nature.

Word count: 453

A/N: For @noesapphic, who gave me the prompt "darling, dearest, dead" and requested all the angst. I hope it delivers. (Also, I need to read Lemony Snicket.)

He was supposed to outlive her.

This is the thought that continues to run on her mind through every agonizing step of laying Tyril to rest. The thought that first struck her like a sword to the heart the second she saw him lying still and pale on the ground after the battle with the Ash Empress.

He was supposed to outlive her.

Sure, he has (had) a few decades on her, but he is (was, she has to get used to saying was) an elf. He should have outlived her human body by centuries.

From the Light we came, to the Light we return.

Raine sinks her nails into her palms at the memory of those words. She doesn’t know how to live the rest of her life without him. Doesn’t want to think that Tyril was the first among them to fall, the one who never got the chance to be happy after all the tribulations and the grief. All the plans they made during those long nights traveling the realms, the hope for a life together… all gone.  She isn’t a stranger to loss, but this… this feels like gasping for a current of air that is simply not there. Like something is pressing down on her heart unrelentingly, until the pain is so acute that she’d rather give up than live through it.

“Come back,” she whispers, her voice breaking on the words. “Please.”

He doesn’t respond, of course. He never will.

She looks at the gardens where Valir and Adrina spread his ashes yesterday. The gardens that Tyril once said he’d show her when they were back at Undermount. She takes one step, two, before stopping. It feels like the world is bearing down on her, like it’ll only take one hard push to fell her. But she can’t. Not yet. Not before she completes her quest.

So she keeps walking.

She finds the rosebush that House Starfury planted this morning in honor of its fallen son. Once upon a time, she would have wondered what kind of magic kept flowers blooming in Undermount. But not now. She doesn’t feel curiosity anymore. She doesn’t feel anything but this great, cavernous loss.

She takes the folded piece of paper from her pocket. Nia offered to enchant it for her, but she had to be the one to do this. The one to bespell the words with enough magic that they will never fade. The one to bury it under the roses, with three words that will keep Tyril company even after she’s long gone. The words she’s whispered over and over again since the moment she lost him.

Darling, dearest, dead.

[starlight-starfury]

Under Starlit Boughs

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Characters: (F!Elf!MC) Raine Nightbloom x Tyril Starfury

Rating: General

Warnings: None, but I’ll warn you it’s unapologetically sappy 😅

Length: 2k

Summary: After talking about the old parties of legend, the Fae realise they finally have cause to throw one of their own.

Tags: @liviusofpella @watatsumi-island @inlocusmads @lilyoffandoms @brycesgirl @sophie-summer @lancelotsimp @megas-choices @princess-geek @julia-highstorms @citrusdarling @mavidraws @lover-also-fighter-also @otakudreamer @stars-are-within-me @mari-lwyd-fannibal-blog @camillyohfreire @mindlesschicca @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @choicesficwriterscreations (tagging everyone who interacted with this post, if anyone wants to be added to the tag-list permanently please let me know! I’ll be making a post about it in a few days as well 💜)

A/N: Because we deserved a cute Whimsywood date 🫶

A song of laughter echoed in the air as everyone sat crowded together under the shade of the pearl petal tree, telling stories and sharing fruits that tasted of sweet mallow and fine dew.

Even the forest seemed to find wonder in the joyous occasion as the trees sent forth a gentle breeze, causing the flowering boughs above to sway and the soft petals to cascade down around the storytellers like light rainfall.

As the Fae reminisced over tales passed down from their ancestors about the Light realm, questions began to arise, and Tyril spoke. “Stories of your parties have become legend in our world. What were they really like?”

“That was long before I sprouted,” the Fae Elder answered, silent throughout the conversation but now smiling fondly at the memory. “But I heard the tales from my elders. They spoke of intricate fashion, delectable foods and wine that tasted of Light.”

“You mean to say, you’ve never thrown one yourselves?” Raine asked.

Willow shook their head. “Very few of us remain, and we’ve no cause to celebrate of late. Not with Shadow lurking so close.”

“Of course you do!” She said. “You’ve been trapped in the shadow realm for centuries, isn’t returning to your homeland worth celebrating?”

The Fae whispered and hummed amongst themselves for a moment, their murmurs like the faint rustling of leaves amid the forest undergrowth before they leapt to their feet enthusiastically.

“Raine is right!” Willow declared, beaming. “Let us all rejoice. To returning to the realm of Light, and to honour our new friends who will help ward our forest from the Shadow!”

The glade seemed to thrum with excitement as everyone stood and the Fae began making their preparations. Raine made her way over to Tyril, who had leant against one of the ancient trees and was gazing around at the magical clearing, awestruck.

“I see some things never change,” she grinned. “I’m glad you finally got to meet the Fae, Tyril.”

A smile touched his lips as she reached his side. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

He nodded back to the forest, where multicoloured orbs of light drifted through the air like fireflies. “It’s incredible that a place so vibrant and full of life can exist in a world such as this.”

Raine looked towards the enchanted scenery, admiring how the trees seemed to bend and dip their branches in greeting to the Fae as they walked past, and how the glowing flowers bloomed in clusters like starlit nebulae below. It made her mind drift back to the Deadwood, the decayed forest merely remnants of a distant memory compared to the magical sight before her.

“Well,” she said at last, “if all this travelling has taught me anything, it’s that beauty often thrives in chaos.”

Tyril’s eyes softened as his gaze shifted to her new attire. She looked like a forest nymph or woodland goddess in the sylvan dress, woven of emerald silk and flowing gossamer that shimmered like dappled sunlight alongside the entwined branches climbing across her fair skin. A crown of leaves was nestled in her hair, and her eyes shone violet as the wisteria blossoms above.

“It does, indeed.” His smile was tender as he reached up to gently cup her cheek and she swayed into his touch, his words a faint whisper against her skin. “Even the stars envy the brightness at which you shine.”

His sentiments were proven true as she beamed under his praise, but before she could answer him the Fae returned to the clearing all at once, and the moment was disturbed like ripples spreading across the surface of a tranquil pond.

“Come, come!” Willow beckoned, and the group reconvened beneath the pearl petal tree once more.

Raine noticed some of the Fae were holding instruments, elegant wooden flutes with budding sprouts that appeared to have been carved from the branches of a fallen tree.

“Is this one of your traditions?” She asked.

“Yes!” Tansy clapped. “The Fae Circle is one of our oldest celebrations, with much music and dancing!”

“Hang on, a Fae Circle?” Mal said before turning to the rest of the group, voice hushed. “Are you sure this isn’t just a trick to keep us here forever?”

“Mal!” Nia scolded. “Don’t be rude!”

“What, haven’t you heard the legends? Mortals who entered a Fae circle were never seen again.”

Imtura followed his gaze pointedly towards where a series of petrified faces were engraved in the bark of a large tree. “…Those aren’t just carvings, are they?”

Willow’s large eyes saddened, a swirling mist shimmering within the dark pupils. “They came to harm our forest, but the trees are our home and family. They would have plucked us from the soil one by one and uprooted everything!”

Raine leant in to whisper to Tyril. “Is all of this true?”

He nodded slowly. “I’ve said before that the Fae are made of magic down to their very essence. That power can become wild and unrestrained if provoked, and it sounds as though they’ve been a target in the shadow realm for some time.”

The nearby Fae’s ears began to droop as Willow continued speaking. “We try to strengthen our roots and bloom despite our hardships, but the trees cast a heavy shadow, and our numbers grow smaller still.”

Raine frowned. “You won’t have to worry about that in the Light realm, we’ll make sure no one harms your forest.”

Willow’s eyes brightened once more at her encouragement. “We cannot thank you enough! Please understand, the Fae Circle is an act of joy and all will be safe. And since you have come to help us, the forest will always remember you as friends.”

Tansy nodded. “The trees also like it when we play music to them, their boughs are always lighter and their leaves shine bright.”

“How does the Fae Circle start?” Tyril asked, and those holding instruments sat themselves upon the grass, lifting their flutes as they began playing a delicate yet jubilant tune.

“Everyone must stand in a circle around the tree and hold hands!” Willow said cheerfully, and Raine smiled as Tyril entwined his fingers with hers.

The rest of the Fae were the ones who began leading the dance, and the others quickly picked up the unfamiliar steps. It wasn’t long before everyone found themselves spinning and twirling around the pearl petal tree in unison.

Laughter filled the air once more, and the sweet petals drifted down around them as though joining in the dance as well until everyone was rosy-cheeked and breathless.

The celebration carried on through brief respites, sharing refreshing drinks between dances and telling stories both old and new. For once, both the realms were united in their joy, and together they could help the Fae create a brighter future for their people, and for each other.

When all the air had escaped her lungs, Raine wandered towards the edge of the glade to catch her breath. It wasn’t long until Tyril found his way to her side, and together they both sat down on a fallen, moss-covered log.

She looked up to where the branches of the great trees parted to reveal the vast night sky, an expanse of darkness that seemed impenetrable by even the brightest light, unusually empty and bare.

“There are no stars here,” she murmured. Without them, the sky felt hollow, like a canvas lying blank. No famed hero’s legacies lied etched across the surface, no constellations adorned the sky shimmering with stories still untold, no glimmer of hope was to be found in the endless dark that stretched on eternal.

“Then we make our own.” Tyril said, before he cupped his hands and little motes of starlight drifted from his fingers into the air. The colourful specks hovered there for a moment, emitting a soft glow that pulsed in unison with the rhythm of their beating hearts before rising up to settle themselves among the lush branches.

“They’re beautiful.” She smiled and they both sat quietly for a moment, feeling more at ease in a realm full of chaos and uncertainty while in each other’s presence, watching as the lights twinkled softly above.

“Do you find it strange? Seeing a sky without them?” Raine asked.

He nodded slowly. “In Undermount we revere the stars, our very existence is mirrored in their being. The history of our people is written among them, with each great victory and tragedy carved into the constellations like a woven tapestry to display all we have been through, and all that is to come.”

Tyril lifted his gaze past the tree branches. “To imagine a place without their existence feels…wrong.”

She looked down, subconsciously beginning to rub her wrist. The skin where her bindings had been was red and raw, another reminder that she had allowed herself to be captured, that she had been weak.

A frown creased his expression as he glanced at her hands, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. “None of us blame you for what happened.”

“And what if I blame myself?” She whispered, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “Everyone went through so much because of me, especially you…”

Raine trailed off as he slowly lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing soft kisses to the inside of her wrist, each brush of his lips lighter than a butterfly’s wings.

She dipped her head as her cheeks flushed light pink, warming under his gaze before he pulled her into his arms and she leant her head to rest against his shoulder.

He murmured into her hair. “I couldn’t protect you last time and I…I blamed myself every day you were gone because of it.”

“Tyril…” she frowned. “None of that was your fault.”

“I know, but that does not change the fact that I failed you.” His eyes filled with sorrow as he traced a finger along her jaw, tilting her chin to look at him. “Every day my heart ached for your return. To see you again, even if you were but a fragment of a dream…”

She let the tears fall as she pressed her lips softly to his, overcome by emotion as she ran her fingers through his raven hair, longer than she remembered. His kiss held all his heartache and remorse from that painful year before he leant back, resting his forehead against her own.

They stayed that way until a softer tune began to play from the more lively part of the forest, and Raine threaded her fingers through his. “May I?”

“Always,” he smiled as she led him to his feet, the two of them alone in their own section of the woods. “Do you remember the first time we did this?”

“Danced?” She asked, and a pleasant night breeze surrounded them as Tyril guided her into position. “You mean at the masquerade?”

He nodded. “Sometimes that feels like a lifetime ago, as though everything has changed since then.”

“And yet, nothing at all.” She said, her voice quiet and tinged with sorrow.

His gaze was far away for a moment before he looked back towards her once more. “Never mind that now, all that matters is having you back in my arms.”

“And there's no place I'd rather be,” she smiled.

He spun her into a graceful twirl before pulling her back in close, and they swayed together gently as the song slowly faded into the next.

They danced until Raine found herself backed against one of the grand oak trees, and when she looked up she could still see the little stars Tyril had summoned earlier hovering among the branches, some of them twinkling as though they were shooting across the sky.

“I like having our own little universe,” she said, and the bark was rough against her fingertips as he leaned in for a kiss once again, like a blazing star that would sooner collapse than part from her touch.

“The night sky is ours,” he assured, and the rest of the forest seemed to melt away under his embrace, until it was just the two of them dancing beneath their stars above.

[aria-ashryver]

Woven Threads and Winding Roads (Pt 1&2)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow Pairing: Tyril x f!human!MC (Raine) Words: 2.2K Ratings/Warnings: General; mention of (Nesper) pregnancy

Summary: Five times Tyril attempts to braid Raine’s hair; and one time those threads begin to come together again as they should.

A/N: Written as a gift for @thosehallowedhalls as a part of the Choices Secret Admirer event! It was such a delight to write for BOLAS again. Also participating in Choices February 2024 with the prompts Eros, Philia, and Pragma. Thank you Caro for letting me borrow your lovely Raine! 🌷🎀

Raine bit down on a laugh as Tyril strode into their bedroom, a scowl biting deep into the angular lines of his face. She rose to meet him, settling a hand against his cheek.

‘There’s the frown I fell in love with,’ she teased, laughter bubbling out of her as his brow furrowed further at her words. ‘We’ve had so little to trouble us these past few weeks — I was beginning to worry you’d forgotten how to brood.’

‘I am not brooding,’ Tyril brooded. 

He sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist, closing his eyes and leaning into the kiss she pressed to his jaw.

‘Thank the stars Adrina has the stomach for these tiresome nobles and their courtly swill. The entire Venesterium seems determined to vex me. The sooner we escape this evening’s ball, the better.’

Raine grinned. ‘Mal and Imtura have been rubbing off on you.’

Tyril’s eyes snapped open. ‘How dare you.’

‘They have!’

‘I… forgive me.’ Tyril paused, stepping back to take in the sweep of silver-blue silk swathing Raine from head to toe. His face softened. ‘Here I am complaining about the nobility, when I should be telling you how utterly radiant you look. You are dazzling spring water beneath the noonday sun, a pure vision of Bakshi come to life. You are the very stars themselves, beloved.’

Raine’s chest glowed. She tangled her fingers with his, swishing her shoulders back and forth.

‘Look,’ she said proudly. ‘My dress has a cape!’

Tyril chuckled.

They were still getting used to life in Undermount. To peace. 

To not being woken by Imtura’s snores, or the quiet cadence of Nia’s morning prayers; to the soft bed linens they’d traded up from hard-packed earth; to days that held no more danger than social faux pas and politics, instead of threats to their lives, to their friends, to the realm itself.

Well. Realms, plural, Raine thought. 

All that time running back and forth across not one but two different planes hadn’t exactly left much time for updating her wardrobe — that, at least, was one aspect of their new life together that Raine had quickly adapted to. Every last seamstress and tailor in Undermount was vying for House Starfury’s patronage. Raine had wasted no time taking advantage. 

‘You’re looking rather handsome yourself,’ she told Tyril, running her fingers over the ornate metalwork embellishing his robes. ‘What’s all this?’

Tyril’s face flattened into a frown again. 

‘Adrina’s doing,’ he groused. ‘House Starfury has been steadily regaining our former standing. Our coffers are stable, our contracts are shoring up, Father has been able to rehire the staff he let go with considerable bonuses. My dear sister, in all her brilliance, has decided that means I needed to look suitably ludicrous for our re-entry into elven courtly society.’

‘I think you look lovely.’

Tyril’s face pinched in distaste. ‘Have you seen the size of this ring? It’s a House Starfury heirloom.’

Tyril flapped his hand before Raine’s face — rather unnecessarily, in all honesty; there was little chance she’d have missed seeing the ring, given that it was the size of a small continent. There, on his left pointer finger, was a sparkling affair of curlicued silver and diamond, set with a sapphire so immense, its sale could have supported the entire population of Riverbend for a solid year or more.

‘Can you imagine what our roguish friend would say if he took one look at me in this get—up?’

‘Mal would call you a prissy elf boy and probably wet himself from laughter, yes.’ Raine pursed her lips, trying not to grin. ‘I take it Undermount’s finery and flattery isn’t to your liking any more, then?’

‘The flattery never was,’ Tyril said, his eyes trained on Raine as she slipped into a seat at the vanity and finished applying a kohl liner to her eyes. ‘The fineries?’ He hummed thoughtfully. ‘I’ll admit, the novelty of clean sheets and dry boots is wearing off faster than I’d expected.’

He stepped up behind her to run a brush through the silken gold of her hair.

Raine closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, remembering for a moment the mornings Nia had done the same. She had no problem braiding her own hair, of course, but sometimes she and Nia had helped each other tease away the tangles and road-dirt, fixing one another’s hair in readiness for travel and combat. 

It had grounded them both. Anchored them in the present, in the living pulse of their Light. Soothed them on the days when the darkness was too heavy to speak through.

Raine met Tyril’s piercing, blue gaze in the mirror over her shoulder. He raised a brow in silent question.

‘Would… would you braid my hair for me?’

A soft smile lit his face. 

‘Whatever you would have of me, I would give to you.’

The minutes passed in silence as Raine gave herself over to the gentle touch of her lover’s hands. He’d almost finished a passable —if slightly uneven— braid, when his ring snagged on her hair, pulling a section loose at the front. 

‘Drat! Apologies, this ring is impossible. I’ve never seen a piece of jewellery so cumbersome — Gods forbid it’s wearer deign to lift a finger to do anything for themselves. Though, I suppose that’s rather the point, isn’t it?’ Tyril clicked his tongue. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea how I am supposed to hold a sword with this monstrosity on my finger.’

‘Tyril…’ Raine caught his hand, holding his gaze for a long moment. ‘You don’t need to anymore.’

‘Oh.’ His eyes grew round, unguarded. ‘I suppose you are right. Yes, I don’t… right.’

Standing, Raine fixed the end of the braid with a simple leather band.

‘You’ve no wish to fix the snag?’

‘No, it’s fine. I rather like it.’ Raine glanced at the fall of hair that had tugged loose. ‘We don’t want to be too put together for the smarmy nobles, do we?’

‘We do not.’ Tyril cupped Raine’s face, his thumb sweeping over her cheekbone, sighing fondly. ‘You are exquisite, Raine. Do you know that? You are perfect. Celestial. I almost want to keep you all for myself. You know… we could just stay here, tonight.’

Laughing, Raine swatted at Tyril as his gaze grew hooded.

‘Tyril!’

She was rewarded with the sight of one of his rare and dazzling smiles. A secret sight, just for the two of them. It still caught her stomach up in swooping knots every time Tyril smiled.

‘Fine,’ he said, warmly, ‘let us away. But we are leaving as soon as the dessert courses are over.’

Raine’s hand found his.

‘Deal.’

‘Why do you get a cool half-cape?’ Raine grumbled, as they wound their way through the cool expanse of the public gardens. ‘I want a cool half-cape. Instead I get idiotic, too-long sleeves.’

Tyril’s face remained impassive as he nodded at a passing head of house; the gardens were bustling this morning, the lush greenery offering a cool respite from the late-spring sun. Raine greeted the elf in kind with a cordial wave —or, she tried to— the gesture botched by the yards of gauzy fabric tangling about her hands.

‘I hate everything!’ she shrieked under her breath. ‘I am this close’ —Raine raised a hand, snarled when her sleeves got in the way again, flailed her arms about until her hands were free, and pinched her thumb and forefinger before Tyril’s nose— ‘to ripping these awful sleeves off and shoving them into that fountain.’

Tyril smiled, tucking his hand against the small of her back and steering her neatly away from the aforementioned fountain. They walked instead toward a cluster of chatting nobles whom Tyril would rather have avoided, but knew he ought to greet.

‘Adrina is close to closing a significant contract with House Moonchaser,’ Tyril said quietly as they neared. ‘It would be a shame to offend their head of house by destroying the gift she bestowed upon you. Damaging such a gift would be perceived as a deliberate snub.’

‘Godsdamn it all to the blackest reaches of the Three Hel— ah, that is— hello, Lord Frostcrow! Yes, the gardens are looking splendid this morning, you are quite right.’

Their welcome ball had been pleasant enough. Raine had bewitched the gathered masses with her effortless radiance —not that Tyril was surprised; his lover stole his breath with every passing heartbeat— though none had been more taken with her beauty than the Lady of House Moonchaser. The elven matriarch had insisted on gifting Raine a custom-made dress from her personal seamstress as a show of welcome from their House.

It had been delivered late that morning — a heavy concoction of lurid pink velvet and silver embellishments, complete with decorative pearls, ribbons, and something Raine had described as “a headache masquerading as fashion” to be woven into her hair to match.

Raine had thought the whole thing garish… but, it would do well to be seen wearing the garment publicly at least once, so here they were.

Tyril had tried his hand at braiding her hair again that morning. Raine had humoured his attempts —there was something intimate and tender in their stolen moments of quiet together as he worked the ribbons through her hair— and for a time, he’d been rather proud of his efforts.

At least, until they’d made the journey from their small manor in the hills and into Undermount proper, and the whole thing had begun to unravel under all the weight. The imperfection irked him. Damn it all, he wouldn’t stop until he was the single most talented personal hair stylist in all of Undermount!

‘Stupid elven politics,’ Raine muttered, blowing a strand of hair from her face as they continued on with their stroll. ‘I look ridiculous. I’ve slept in war tents with less fabric than this dress. How am I supposed to defend myself in a swordfight with these sleeves?’

‘Were you not the one reprimanding me for my obstinate refusal to relax?’ Smiling, Tyril dropped a gentle kiss to the top of Raine’s head. The braid sagged a little further. ‘Perhaps you might take your own advice. We are safe, beloved. There aren’t any agents from the Ash Empire hiding under the magnolias, waiting to ambush us the moment we—’

‘A MISSIVE! A MISSIVE FOR YOU, LORD STARFURY!’

Heart in his throat, Tyril spun on instinct to find the point of his dagger hovering mere inches from the face of a wide-eyed courier. Beside him, Light crackled in Raine’s palms, her stance poised to strike, her expression nothing short of thunderous.

‘Apologies!’ The courier squeaked. He pinched an envelope between his trembling fingers, prodding it meekly toward them as the colour drained from his face.

Sighing, Tyril flicked his wrist in a practised motion; the dagger slid smoothly from his palm to tuck itself inconspicuously in his shirtsleeve. 

He really ought to thank Mal for showing him that particular trick, Tyril thought. He wouldn’t, of course, on account of that would mean actually thanking Mal for something, but the gratitude was there all the same.

He tugged the letter from the courier’s hand. The shiny, wax seal bore a small paw-print in the centre.

‘An urgent missive from the most humble Threep Percivacurus Pompedorfin and the magnanimous Loola Coriandropolis Dupopodolis, dispatched via high-speed drake-courier service out of Whitetower,’ the courier recited breathlessly. He swayed on his feet.

‘I think you should go and sit down for a minute or two, buddy,’ Raine told him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. ‘Drink some water, catch your breath. Maybe have a think about whether or not it’s a good idea to sneak up behind people who were recently involved in the harrowing trauma of saving the entire Godsdamned realm from certain doom and yelling at them, you know. Turn that one over in your head a couple times.’

‘That— I— yes. Sound advice, my lady.’ 

Bowing stiffly, the courier departed, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

‘By the Light,’ Raine muttered. She sounded as tired as Tyril felt.

‘Every day I think to myself, “the general populace couldn’t possibly grow any more dense”,’ Tyril murmured, watching the terrified courier wobble away, ‘and every day, they find new and fascinating ways to prove me wrong.’ 

‘Um… Tyril?’

Caught by the horror in her tone, Tyril turned to see a sheepish Raine inspecting her hands. Two smoking, fist-sized holes burned clean through the trailing sleeves of her dress.

She winced. ‘Just how important was that contract with House Moonchaser, again?’

Feeling a headache coming on, Tyril scanned Threep’s letter. His mouth dropped open.

‘Oh! Never mind that — Raine! Threep and Loola are expecting!’

Raine clutched at his hands, giddiness sparkling in her eyes. She squealed.

‘You’re joking. Baby nespers?! How adorable!’ Her eyes bugged in her head. ‘Oh, Gods, wait. An army of Threeps…’

The budding warmth in Tyril’s chest flipped to alarm. ‘Oh no… Oh, we need to start stocking the larder, yesterday.’

Stricken, Raine nodded. ‘I’ll place an order for a few bushels of dried anchovies.’

‘Whatever number you are thinking,’ Tyril said, ‘double it.’

Click here for: [Next - Pt. 3&4]

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesfebruary2024 @choicesfandomappreciation @thosehallowedhalls @lilyoffandoms @stars-are-within-me @jerzwriter

[vicissavior]

Uhm… oh my god??? I have no clue What it is but omg???

[a-cloud-for-dreams]

Unreleased & Incomplete #2: The Greatest Gift

It was an odd feeling that Tyril wasn’t able to explain. The last time he felt like this was when he was dragged along to save Kade and stop the Dreadlord. A realization that their paths were forever intertwined Now they were his friends. No, his family. But he felt it again, when Eclipse was born.

It was love. No, excitement. Perhaps it was fear?

“I think it’s ridiculous,” Tyril grumbled next to Raine. “I don’t know why you're not stopping him.”

“Why, should a future Lady not know the lucrative art of picking pockets?” She teased while lying in the soft grass. She plucked a flower, gently feeling the soft petals between her fingers.

His gaze hardened, as if confused by her response. He threw his hands in the air. “Yes?!”

She laughed. “They’re just playing. And it’s not like she would ever do anything to make you cross with her.”

The couple looked at Mal and Eclipse, chasing each other around the field. Salem walked in soon after with one of the orphans hiding behind her. Kymani, Raine thinks the name was. She was a half-elf and one of the newest members of her and Mal’s orphanage.

Eclipse’s ears perked up immediately. She tilted her head to examine her soon-to-be friend. Tyril's heart beamed with pride at the sight. That's who she was. Her parent's pride and joy. The future Lady of House Nightfury.

[snow--witch]

My dinvalir ❤️

[onmarswesail]

I don't know about you guys, but I'd be happy just to have the Blades sequel, I don't have lots of demands and expectations. There are only a few things I'd really like to see:

MC discovering more about their heritage. Especially if they're elf, it's mentioned that they're a descendant of House Nightbloom. I mean, you can't just throw that info at us and never bring it up again! MC must at least be curious, right? Also, I think it'd be cool to restore their House.

More time spent with Kade. I mean, c'mon, he was gone for 75% of the book, we need to catch up!

More of elves' and orcs' culture. All of that lore stuff just got me excited to see it play out in the story.

If this is the final book, I seriously hope they make a wholesome ending, nothing rushed like The Princess Swap, Immortal Desires, etc. I'm a woman of simple tastes: I want to marry my elf boi and have little Starfurys 🥺

What about you? Anything in particular you're hoping to see in the sequel?

[bloodboundismylife]

Um, excuse you sir, I did no such thing!

[harbingerofdespair]

Top 5 choices books

Bloodbound

Ride or die

Immortal desires

Blades of light and shadow

Queen B

[lovehugsandcandy]

like a ghost into the fog

Pairing: Aerin x f!MC, Blades of Light and Shadow

Ratings: Explicit/18+/N*FW (the last part contains sex, maybe swearing?)

Word Count: ~4,600

A/N: Title from 'Round Here' by the Counting Crows

Summary: 5 times Aerin and Raine weren't reunited and 1 time they were

i.

The desert is boiling, even at night, and Raine lacks both the motivation and strength to set up a tent. Instead, she merely unfurls her bedroll directly onto the sand and plops down, exhaustion both physical and mental making even another step just out of reach.

She waits, until she can hear Tyril's quiet rhythmic breath, until Imtura has settled and stilled, as the darkness surrounds her like a shroud. Then, the tears start, slowly at first, tracing down the slope of her cheek, and then faster, harder, until she realizes that dehydrating herself in the middle of an endless desert is foolish, but she can't stop her eyes from pouring out onto the sand below.

Of all the troubles she knew she would encounter in her quest, the sudden disappearance of the fallen prince hadn't even registered. But now that it's happened, she can think of nothing else.

Swiping at her cheeks, she turns her attention to the night sky over her head. Above, where there had been only darkness, pinpricks of light work their way through the night. At first, it's one star, then two, and then a blaze, constellations popping from the atmosphere faster than she can count. It’s dizzying, the swirl of stars above her head in the desert’s open void; the sobs slow, then cease, tears drying in the omnipresent heat, and each new bloom of light sparks a bloom of hope.

She can see The Lovers, tied together in the southwest sky, while Nithrax stands guard in the north, and she can trace each constellation as clearly as if they were ink on parchment, clear sky a canvas for the points of light and images of the Gods above her.

And finally, above her, the crescendo of this nighttime vision—a shooting star, sweeping overhead, brighter and brighter as it flies across the horizon. Her breath stalls, waiting, as it peaks in the distance, before its arc descends and slowly, gradually, it fades away.

She releases the breath she was holding, and the exhale sounds like prayer in the night. Maybe the star was a portent. Maybe the journey would ease. Maybe they could close the rifts. Maybe her heart could heal. And maybe he would find peace, in whatever shape it took.

Maybe the stars would align for them again.

And with that hope, underneath the blanket of stars twinkling to her, she finally sleeps.

Only seven miles away but a world apart, Aerin tends the fire outside his tent, poking at the tendrils of flame with a stick. It’s quiet in the woods, with only the stray chirp of a cricket or popping of tinder to keep him company, but he’s still alert, attuned to the surrounding darkness. Horrors can emerge abruptly in the night, he knows it as well as anyone, and a battle alone amid the moonlight would be far more treacherous than if he had companions at his back.

Raine.

The name comes to him unbidden, and he pushes it away. He can’t help her; Gods, he can’t help anyone, least of all himself. All he can do is keep the small fire alive and ponder his next move.

Once the blaze is stable, he leans back in a huff, rich grass buffeting his head, and gazes up through the trees. Past the rich foliage, he can just see a few stars, light fighting through the gauzy clouds, and he tries to focus his mind on his next move when he sees it—there!—peeking through the trees, moving above him, a curving light far above the atmosphere. 

He’s seen shooting stars before, a few, huddled alone and shaking amid the castle towers, but this is different. Its light is pure and bright even at distance, and he can’t take his eyes off of the sparkling trail.

Some ancient peoples thought that shooting stars were foreboding, predicting evils yet to come.

Others thought they promised good fortune to all who were lucky enough to see them, sprinkling magic and luck through the trailing sparkle.

He watches the star’s graceful orbit across the sky until it’s blocked by the trees above, disappearing in the ceiling of green, and he wonders what fortune the star would bring to him.

ii.

It feels like an eternity that he’s been traveling alone but Aerin knows it’s only been about a week (8 days, 7 hours, and 13 minutes since he stole away in the night - he’s not counting but the ache makes it impossible to ignore just how much time has passed). In that time, Aerin has learned how loudly his thoughts echo in the dark, how quickly rations are depleted when he doesn’t have access to simple shops, how vile the word ‘traitor’ is when hissed by those who catch sight of him.

He’s learned how important it is to stick to the shadows.

His hood stays over his head, tightly, hiding his hair, and when he bows his head, he can sneak by unnoticed, skirt the edges of crowds as he moves through the small towns that dot the coast.

He’s in such a small town, an hour south of Port Parnassus, huddled in the back booth of a dingy tavern. His companions - past companions - would be at home here, particularly the thief; the room is full of shadowy corners and the patrons pay him no mind, lost in their own dealings and trickery. He sips his ale, slowly, lost in thought; the din doesn't permeate his senses, not even when the door opens and a blast of cool ocean air sweeps the room.

He doesn't hear the jangle of coins, misses the awed voices ('the Hero of Morella'), doesn't recognize the hushed tones across the room.

When the door opens again, he again doesn't notice, lost in his own world, in the shadows (is the darkness in the tavern or is it in him?). 

He just sits and thinks and aches.

iii.

Aerin's fingers linger over the familiar bottle, asphodel in liquid form, vial cool to the touch. The shelf is lined with stopped bottles, reagents, tinctures, salves, and balms. He grabs the ground evenbloom, looking at the label while debating which would be the best investment of his dwindling stash of coin, when a bell rings from the front.

"Hello, travelers!" He ignores the shopkeeper's greetings until he hears the response.

"Hello!" Nia's ducelet tone rings out and, even now, months since he has seen her, he knows it is her like he knows his own hand. The vial almost falls from his grasp and he rushes to return it to its place. "You have an amazing shop! We just wanted to look around, if we may."

We. And footsteps, multiple. Nia's not alone. Aerin is torn - the desire to peer around the corner, to catch just one glimpse, is sudden, overwhelming. He's already started tiptoeing down the aisle before he stops.

"I'm almost out of herbs," Mal says. Aerin can't breathe, freezes in place. He just-

"Is your chest still bleeding?" Tyril asks and Aerin cannot stay to hear the rest. He glances around and, right there, behind him, is a small doorway. He makes a break for it, footfalls as quiet as possible, dodging past a surprised employee before pushing out the back. 

The doorway leads to an alleyway, and he sprints faster, following maze-like corridors until he's sure he's free of the group. 

Unfortunately, one cannot outrun guilt.

He stops only when he is halfway across the city, chest heaving in exertion in a side alley. The cobblestones are uneven under his feet, and the buildings around him are covered in soot, but it's a shadowed place to hide. He sucks in a breath and sputters, smoke from the butcher nearby catching in his lungs. This is absolutely pitiful behavior, unseemly even for a former prince, even for one who's fallen from glorious heights to tragic lows, and he slumps against the wall, ashamed.

He can't- he can't be seen. He has no excuse, nothing of worth to share, nothing by way of explanation, and the world to atone for. His legs give out and he sinks to the ground, amid the dirt and grime, and buries his head in his hands.

He doesn't move until after nightfall, when the darkness around him provides comforting anonymity, when he can vanish into the darkness.

iv.

It's ridiculous. Raine knows how foolish it is, so she keeps her mouth shut, leaves her friends to enjoy the festival, and slinks through the crowds. She knows there are many festivals throughout the small towns that circle the capital, occuring often, ale flowing for days, so it's a nonsensical desire but she sets her sights on a small tent at the edge of the fairgrounds. Purple and gold striped flags flutter in the gentle wind as she steps closer to her goal.

She's almost there, fifteen yards away at most, when a flap of the fortune teller's tent opens, a hooded figure emerging to slide quickly into the crowd.

Her heart catches in her throat. She couldn't be sure, but it almost- it could have been-

Her feet move before her mind catches up, sprinting towards him. She doesn't have a plan and doesn't know what she would say or demand or, in her weakest moments, beg. She just moves, her legs charging forward, dodging through the crowd, pushing past tourists and townsfolk alike. At one point, a vendor pushes a cart into her path, and she leaps, soaring through the air only to vault over the wares, never missing stride, keeping the deep green of his hood in sight.

Her heart pounds, legs straining with the effort as she catches up, closer, ten yards, then five, darting around a small child and diving forward, shoulder to the small of his back as her hands wrap around his waist. They fall forward into a pile of limbs, bystanders gasping as they roll together, head over feet, their momentum landing them sprawled in front of a cart selling ales and liquors.

“What by the Gods are you-”

She leans over and tugs the hood off his head. “Aer-” The word dies on her lips as blond hair emerging in a messy tangle. It’s not him. She sags against the earth and only her pride prevents her from weeping. It’s never him.

“What is wrong with…” The man trails off, pushing up onto his elbows as his glare softens. “Aren’t you the Hero of Morella?”

She doesn’t feel heroic now, side smeared with mud, palm scraped from her tumble. Words don’t exist to describe the mortification and loss she feels; she pushes up to her feet, head hanging down. “I’m sorry; I must have confused you with someone else.”

And she flees.

Across the fairgrounds, Aerin drops a pair of coins into the palm of the fortune teller. If she recognizes him, she doesn’t say a word; her eyes widen for an instant before she beckons him to sit. He settles into his chair, nose wrinkling as the incense wafts through the room, and wrinkled fingertips slowly turn his hand.

“I see a betrayal in your past. It cuts you deep, to this day, regret like a stone holding you down.”

"This is sounding very familiar," he drawls. "Repetitive almost."

She continues on as if he said nothing, finger tracing a path across his palm. "You had a decision to make recently. I see the crossroads, here." She points to something, but Aerin only sees flesh. "Did you make your decision?"

He blinks. "Yes." He wishes he felt as sure as he sounded.

"Good." She turns to his other palm. "For your future-"

"Dark and full of terror? Unyielding pain?"

"Don't you think you've had enough of that?" she chides. "I see knowledge. It's always been important to you, knowledge, learning, but it's critical now. She needs it."

"Who?" 

She ignores his question, but he's certain he already knows the answer. Everything always comes back to Raine. "There is knowledge only you hold that needs to come to light." Her hand tightens in his palm. "She needs to know."

"What… what knowledge?"

Her face is imploring, but she doesn't answer, only dropping his palm against the table. When it becomes apparent she’s finished, he turns to leave, but her voice stops him midstride. "One last thing, Prince-"

"Former Prince."

"-she has forgiven you."

He pauses, narrowing his eyes, hand clutching the tent flap behind him. "Really."

"She has."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Do you really?" Her stare is hard. His chest suddenly aches, a dull pain right in the center underneath layers of scarring and recrimination; he can't help shivering at a memory of lips ghosting across his scar. "The question is," she continues, "have you forgiven yourself?"

There's no answer he can give to that question, no reply in any realm that could come close to encompassing his complicated feelings on that subject. He only turns, slipping out of the tent, vanishing into the crowds and the night.

v.

Raine is tired, the type of exhaustion that seeps into weary bones and lingers, a perpetual twinge embodying her every movement. They are no closer to ridding Nia of shadow, and, as days pass, her condition worsens, more and more of her time and thoughts spent in a haze of darkness. She is tired of fighting, tired of worrying, and, right now, wants nothing more than to sink into the exquisite bed in this palace room and stay there until the problems of the realm are nothing more than memories lost to the passage of time.

She crosses the room, intending to do exactly that, but pauses at the sight of a parcel on her bed. It's small, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, folded piece of paper balanced atop. She tilts her head. Is it clothing? Is there some royal party she had forgotten about?

The top of the paper is blank, but, when she unfolds it, the first word makes her start, paper falling in a gentle sway onto the plush carpet.

It's not the word. Her name is a perfectly logical start to a letter. But the writing - neat, regal. She knows that handwriting, knows it like the back of her hand, has traced those lines while huddled away in her tent, unsteady fingers walking over the consonants and vowels more times than she can count.

She stoops to get the paper, and it trembles in her hand; she takes three steadying, deep breaths- inhale, exhale, breathe- before she continues reading.

Raine-

I apologize I cannot give you this in person; though, of all the apologies you are owed, perhaps this minor one is all I can yet provide.

I told you I would be there if you needed me and my understanding is that, perhaps, that time has come. I know better than most how to remove shadow corruption and, while I am loath to dredge up these particular memories, it seems like you need them now more than ever.

Please find everything you need within this package. The ritual is complex, difficult, but if anyone can succeed, it's you.

Yours, always,

Aerin

She looks around, blinking stray tears from her eyes, but the room is empty. With the halls teeming with knights and guards, it should be impossible for anyone to sneak in, but he knows this castle better than most and, in particular, this room, the one he chose for her before, before, before. That he could slip in, past the guards, past her friends, and find this very room? The security risk alone should concern her; instead, she is almost comforted. Even in an opulent cage, even in her darkest times, he can still reach her. 

She wishes she could have reached him, too.

She opens the parcel with shaking fingers: a large book, three tallow candles smelling slightly of sage, a gilded cloth wrapped tightly around the blade of a stout knife, a pink crystal glowing softly in the candlelight. Her fingers pause over each one, taking in the gifts he left for her, imagining that the warmth of his palms still lingered over the items he so carefully wrapped.

Once she has examined each and every one, she cracks open the tome and begins to read, exhaustion gone as she drives toward a solution. 

i.

It's not obvious, but, by now, she knows the signs. The movement of the door, a whisper over silence and just enough to make her stir. The change in the air, barely perceptible by her skin but just enough to make the goosebumps erupt on her arms. She groans. Why is he here? The coronation is tomorrow!

"What do you want, Mal?"

A throat clears behind her. "Not Mal. Though I apologize if you were expecting him."

She sits up so fast that the sheets fly from her torso, pooling around her as she peers into the darkness. She's in a nightgown, the chill of the night prickling her skin, but she's wide awake now, too stunned to be embarrassed. Her breath is caught in her throat as there's one footstep, then another, and finally, he's appearing out of the shadows, a dreamt-of apparition made solid before her eyes.

"By the Gods," she murmurs, edging to the side of the bed, her bare feet finding the stone floor as she takes him in.

He looks tired, dark smudges under his eyes, slightly pale, but well, alive, pulling back his hood to nod a greeting. "Raine. I just wanted to congratulate you on your coronation tomorrow."

"Aerin. Where have you… what have you…" She stands, toes curling to steady her trembling legs, sheets slipping to the ground. Tomorrow, she is to be Queen; she truly should be far more articulate. "...you're here. In Whitetower."

"I've been here for a while, actually."

"Yet you never made my way to visit me?"

His smile is wry, and the blush that flits across his cheeks is so familiar that she can almost pretend to feel its heat warm her palms. "I wanted to. The whole escaped felon and enemy of the realm situation puts a damper on social visits, you know."

"The documents are already drawn. I'm going to pardon you. Tomorrow. After…" She trails off as he blinks dumbly at her.

"I-  I'm not sure that would go well with your citizenry."

She can see through him in a heartbeat, his foot scuffing a jagged trail against the floor. "You saved Nia." She takes a hesitant step forward and, when he makes no move to flee, continues closing the distance. "I don't care what anyone has to say about it, including you. You are worthy." She takes care to stress the last word, but he only shakes his head.

"No, you saved her; you were able to complete the ritual."

"With your guidance. Your faith in me was not misplaced, Aerin."

He shrugs one shoulder. "It never was."

"And mine was not misplaced in you." She watches him through her lashes. Up close, he embodies all the memories she clutched so close in the night. Tangled curls trace down his forehead, sloping over eyes brimming with intelligence, and the pout of his lips is so intimately familiar that her stomach lurches. "Did you-" She could curse the hitch in her voice. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

He glances away, avoiding her gaze; moonlight filtered through the clouds highlights his face, and his eyes glow like gemstones. "I… there is still more work to be done."

"Always," she murmurs. "But are you going to stay? Here?" The 'with me?' is unstated, but it roars with the throb of her heart.

His gaze is slow to find hers again, but when he finally catches her eye, he looks hesitant yet forthright, equal parts young prince beside a lake of Light and hardened soul who battled darkness within. And, as always, he can hear her heart as if it strums in his own chest. "If you'll have me."

She can't hold back, not now, not when he's close enough to touch, and his hazel eyes peer cautiously at her underneath soft curls. She takes the last step slowly, closing the distance until they share a space, her hand skimming the front of his tunic as the room, the coronation, Gods, the utter realm fade away, and there is nothing but Aerin and his hand rising to sweep over her cheekbone.

"Raine… you have no idea how-"

She doesn't wait for him to finish the sentence, as she has some idea—every idea—that his nights away have been spent like hers, longing and yearning. She cannot yearn any longer, pushing forward to taste the way his lips part under hers, to relish the way his palms cradle her cheek. Every needy sound from his mouth is swallowed by her own, and she drinks them all in, eagerly, pulling him even closer as if a lack of personal space could ever make up for the previous distance, when she spent sleepless nights just wondering if he still lived.

She pulls back as moisture falls on her cheeks, and she's surprised to feel tears pooling in her eyes.

"Raine?" His fingertips are tender as they wipe away the lingering tears tracing her cheek. "Are you - what's wrong?"

"I thought you would never return. I thought you wouldn't come back."

"I told you. I wrote… I said that I would be there if you needed me."

Her fingers grip the front of his tunic tightly, fabric straining in her hold. "I did need you! I did! We journeyed through both realms, over and over, and you weren't-"

He dives forward for another kiss, rougher, unrestrained, his hands finding her waist to drag their bodies together. "You didn't." His lips brush her cheek before traveling to the shell of her ear, the side of her neck. "You didn't need me. You defeated the Ash Empire. You saved the realm."

"I still needed you." Her fingers find his chin, so she can raise his head and stare intently into his eyes. "Aerin, I need you."

The sound that slips past his lips is raw, undignified, but she doesn't have a second to react before his lips again meet hers, and it's a blur of movement and sensation. One instant, he's kissing her until her lips tingle with it; the next, his tongue traces the straps of her gown, and her knees buckle so fiercely that he needs to hold her up, cradled against his chest as he continues his careful ministrations. His hands cup her waist as he prods her backwards, until the back of her knees collide with the mattress and she falls onto the feather mattress.

He follows her down, bracing himself over her, but his lips never leave the curve of her shoulder, lower, tracing the skin right at the edge of the lace, his lips worshipping the slope of her breast with a reverence she only felt in dreams.

She shifts as insistent hands tug, nightgown pulled over her head, vanishing along with her good sense and any vestiges of propriety. "Gods, Raine, you're-" His words fall into a groan as her own hands make quick work of his clothing, the tunic falling to the floor. She pushes, hard enough that shock flits over his face before she scrambles over him, and she can feel the hard lines of his body as her thighs bracket his.

"Maybe I will keep you like this." She touches the mark at the center of his chest, tracing the tendrils of scar tissue as they whorl across tender muscle and skin. "Make it so you can't just disappear."

"I won't." His tone is so assured, so confident, that her hand stills.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

She can't meet his eyes; she only stares as her own unblemished fingers stroke his scarred skin. It's huge, so close to his heart, and it strikes her that removing the stone could have been yet another of the endless ways he could have been lost to the dark. "Don't say that."

"Why? I mean-"

"The last time—" Her voice hitches, and it's pitiful, embarrassing, how easily the Hero of Morella is undone. "Last time… you said… you…" She can't continue the train of thought,  lost in the memory of his lips drawing trails of lies across her skin, "and you left."

"You know why I left."

"I know. I understood. I just didn't know if you would come back."

Aerin grabs her hand, raising it to his lips for a kiss that would be almost chaste if it weren't for their utterly indecent position. "I will always come back."

"Prove it."

His answering kiss is all-consuming, fire licking down her spine and forming a pool of heat in her stomach. She moves, carefully, a slight shift; his mouth falls open as she slides down, slowly, every inch a revelation. As she rocks into him, his hands don't stop, pulling her down for devouring kisses that makes her toes curl, palms sliding down her back until every vertebrae sings, hand circling her hips and then lower until he is the entire world and she can only bask in every sensation of pure rapture.

He remains a quick learner as his fingertips become reacquainted with her body. Her legs shake with every touch, and it's too much, she can't bear it, teeth digging into her lips to muffle the sounds of pleasure building at the pit of her stomach. It only takes one more thrust, one more twirl of his thumb, and she's flying, falling, release sparking from her core and outward through her limbs. Her vision goes white, blind to anything but the line of his neck as he cranes his head, deaf to all but the moan from his lips.

She rolls onto the bed beside him, draping an arm across his torso as her breathing slowly returns to normal. When she's cogent enough to make sense of the world, she's shocked to find him staring at her.

"I'm not going anywhere." Aerin's voice is calm and measured. "Not unless you ask."

She props her head up on an elbow to stare into his face. "Why would I ask?"

"Escaped felon, danger to the realm and all the Light touches, remember?"

"You will be pardoned." Her mind shifts to tomorrow, to the pageantry that awaits. "Would you want to be more? More than just free?"

"What?"

"Would you want…" She tangles her hand in his hair. "You know much more about royalty, the duties of ruling, how to manage a kingdom."

“No.” He cuts her off, her hands still among his curls. “We both know what happened when I had power last. I’m not-”

“You’re not who you were.”

"None of us are."

It's a conversation for another time, her future as Queen, his future as the man he was always meant to be. "You know," she says, laying down again, over him, and his heart beats a steady rhythm in her ear. "Nia will be pleased to see you. She always said you would return."

"She was always too trusting."

She huffs a laugh against his chest. "Unfortunately, the reunion will be short lived. Imtura will cut you in two."

"Oh, yes. Your heroic friends. I almost forgot what it was like to have my life constantly threatened."

"They're joking. Mostly. Will you play nice with them?”

“Probably not.” The smile flits across his lips, charming and sure, and she’s desperate to taste it again but is desperate for one more assurance.

“Will you really stay?”

Aerin pauses, holding her gaze so she can’t look away, can only wait with bated breath for his response. His voice is low, single word imbued with every ounce of royal gravity he possesses. “Always.”

[thosehallowedhalls]

Second Thoughts

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x Raine of Riverbend (F!MC)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 1235

Summary: After choosing to leave the portals open, Raine is wrestling with second thoughts. Tyril is there to help her through them.

A/N: This started out as pure fluff and took a turn into the slightly angsty. Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge, prompts: flowers & "Your laughter is my favorite melody."

The first tulips begin to bloom in April, dancing merrily amidst the crocuses and daffodils. Raine can’t resist leaning in every so often and simply taking a deep, cleansing breath. There’s something invigorating about those first shaky efforts of springtime.

After the winter they’ve had, they deserve some spring.

It’s been six weeks since she made the call to leave the portals open, letting people and magic pass through them freely, but she can’t stop wondering if she made the wrong decision. For the first three weeks or so, she’d wake up in a panic in the middle of the night, heart racing and convinced she’d doomed everyone in both realms to a slow and painful death. Tyril talked her down from many a nightmare during those long, terrible nights, and she’d fall asleep again within the protective shelter of his arms.

She hasn’t had one of those nightmares in three weeks, but her waking hours are still plagued by doubts.

“You’ll get yourself stung by a bee,” he tells her fondly.

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Stopping to smell the roses is a time-honored human tradition. You’re just jealous you don’t have flowers in Undermount.”

“We do, too.” He gently tugs on her braid. “Next time you visit, I’ll show you the greenhouse.”

“How in the world do you…” She stops herself. “Ah. Magic.”

“Conjured in tandem by enough elves that only a little lifeforce is taken from each.”

“Tyril, you know I love flowers, but are they worth your lifeforce?”

His eyes light up at the promise of a debate. “Isn’t it also a human saying that beauty is its own reward?”

She takes his hand as images of him nearly falling at the battlefield flash before her eyes. “Nothing is worth your life, Tyril. Certainly not a few flowers.”

The argumentative light in his eyes gives way to tenderness. “I’ve never been one of the flora elves, Raine.”

“And you never will be. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

She exhales. She feels like they just cheated death again. She feels like they just cheated death entirely too often. For once, she wants them to have simple, uncomplicated fun. “Let’s go on an adventure,” she tells him.

He raises an elegant brow. “May I inquire as to what you think we’ve been doing for the past year and a half?”

“I mean a fun adventure. Low stakes, no near-death experiences, absolutely zero monsters” A pause at his doubtful expression. “All right, fewer monsters.”

“We’re due to meet with Nia in less than two hours.”

“We can make it in time. Why don’t we go on a picnic to the woods?”

He looks at her. “Your heart is set on this, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Then I suppose we’re going on a picnic to the woods.”

“This was a good idea,” she says an hour later.

They’re sprawled out on a blanket, two goblets of elven wine and a bowl of assorted fruit resting near them. Tyril looks relaxed, his forehead free of the worry lines that are rarely far behind.

“Has it made you happy?” He asks, as if that’s the only relevant criteria.

“It really has. We needed this.” She raises herself up on an elbow and grins at him. “Especially you. Your frown lines were developing frown lines.”

“I believe I’ve had cause to frown lately,” he says dryly.

She reaches out to trace the little crease on his forehead with her fingers. “Of course. But the worst part is over, Tyril. We can relax.”

“That’s sound advice. Do you intend to take it?” He gives her a knowing look. “I’m not the only one who’s been frowning recently.”

She shifts, a guilty look in her eyes. “Is it that obvious?”

“No,” he admits. “You hide it well. It’s only that I watch you very closely.”

Well, hellsfire, what’s a girl supposed to say to that? “I keep wondering if I made the wrong decision. Should I have merged the realms? Or gone into the Shadow Realm? What if I made a mistake?”

“Uluvalir, I don’t think there was a right decision here.”

Despite the heaviness of the moment, she can’t resist teasing him. “That must’ve hurt you to say out loud.”

He ignores her. “Yes, leaving the portals open wasn’t a perfect solution. But if we had merged the realms, untold quantities of people would have died. Would you have been able to accept that?”

“No,” she admits. “It would have haunted me.”

“And if we had gone to the Shadow Realm, we don’t know what would have happened. We might have become infected by Shadow.”

“I’d never be able to forgive myself if you or the others had been hurt.” She blows out a breath. “Okay, I get it. There were no right choices, but there was the right choice for me. And I made it.”

Tyril takes her hand and tugs her closer. “Do you feel better?”

“I do.” She kisses him, then grins. “But you know what else would make me feel better?”

“I believe I have an idea…”

When he reaches for her, she scrambles back. “Mind out of the gutter, Lord Starfury. I meant a race.”

“A race? You want to run?”

But she’s already on her feet and making for the trees. She’s starting to gain a real advantage when the sound of her name stops her dead in her tracks.

“Raine!”

Alarmed, she skids to a stop. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I was promised no monsters!”

She runs back to him so fast her breath is coming out in short gasps when she finally reaches him. “What are you talking about?”

A blue finger points at a creature that’s… surprisingly small to be a monster. “That!”

She follows his line of vision and breaks into helpless peals of laughter. “Tyril… those aren’t monsters. Those are geese.”

“The difference is hardly significant!” He glares at her. “Are you enjoying this?”

“No! I’m not! It’s just…” But she’s doubled over now, laughing so hard she can’t finish her sentence. When she looks back up, she’s surprised to find him smiling slightly.  “Is that a devious smile? Are you planning to feed me to our geese friends?”

“They’re not our friends. And no. It’s only that I haven’t seen you laugh like that in a very long time.”

“We haven’t had very many reasons to laugh.”

“No. But I suppose I’m glad for those blasted things.” He shoots the geese a distasteful look. His hand twitches, as if he’s considering casting a spell to keep them far away from him. But his face softens again when he turns to look at her. “Your laughter is my favorite melody.”

Undone, she walks to him. “And your smile is my favorite sight.”

“I suppose I’ll have to smile more often.”

“Yes please. You of all people don’t need more frown lines.”

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her to him. “I don’t believe it’s possible to be with you, Raine, and not smile.”

“Back at you.”

She tips her head to his chest. The sound of his heartbeat soothes her, and the scent of flowers wafts up around them in a gentle welcome, a promise of more beauty yet to come. Her friends are safe, the realms are thriving, and Tyril is right here in her arms.

For once, all is right in her world.

[starlight-starfury]

Reunited

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Characters: (F!Elf!MC) Raine Nightbloom x Tyril Starfury

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Length: 800+ words

Summary: Tyril finally reunites with Raine after one long year apart.

Tags: @lawrencebarkley @watatsumi-island @sophie-summer @lilyoffandoms @choicesbookclub @choicesficwriterscreations

Raine anxiously paced the floor of her room in Whitetower as her mind raced with questions. It was the same one she had stayed in as a guest, and she even found her belongings still untouched, another solemn reminder of how much time had passed while she was gone.

She was told that her companions likely wouldn’t arrive at the palace for at least a few days, scattered across the realms as they were. There wasn’t much else she could do aside from bide her time and worry about her friends.

And him.

She felt no different than she had when the shadow soldiers swarmed the palace terrace, but for them…

An entire year had passed. A year of her life she had missed, supposed to have been spent amongst her friends and family in celebrating their victory.

Instead she had been torn away from all of them, and she wondered just how much had changed. Were they different now? Were they still looking for her?

She sighed, rubbing her eyes as she slung the satchel she’d found in the shadow realm over the grand vanity. Hoping for a distraction, she began sorting through her newly acquired potions when a knock sounded from the door to her chambers.

“Come in,” she called, assuming it was either Kade or one of the advisors, even though it was getting late and she’d already told them everything she knew.

She lifted her gaze as the door slowly opened, and froze when she saw his reflection in the mirror staring back at her, his hair disheveled and eyes wide in disbelief.

Seconds ticked by and he still didn’t dare to step forward, almost as though he was afraid she would vanish if he came any closer.

“Tyril…” She slowly crossed the room until she was standing in front of him, reaching up a hand to gently cup his cheek. “Tyril, it’s me.”

As if her movements had broken a spell, a strangled sob escaped his throat and he launched himself forward, wrapping her tightly in his arms and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Hot tears spilled down his cheeks as she held him just as close, rubbing her hand up down his back. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m here now.”

After a long moment, he pulled back just far enough to look into her face.

“You came back,” he breathed, still holding her firm in his embrace, worried she might disappear if he dared to move.

“I did,” she smiled sadly, wiping another tear from his cheek. “I can’t believe it’s really been a year…What happened, Tyril?”

His eyes closed as he took a deep breath, looking pained. “With no means of summoning a portal to go after you, our first course of action was to search the royal archives for any information we could find that might help us, but ultimately it was futile.”

He sighed. “We waited for the soldiers who took you to make a reappearance, but nobody has seen them since they showed up a year ago and fled.”

Raine frowned. “That might change soon.”

A dark shadow flickered across his features. “I won’t let them take you again.”

Tyril took a moment to regain his composure before he shook his head and continued. “After months of poring over ancient texts, countless failed rituals and seeking out the wisest mages in the realm, we each took off on our own in search of answers in the hopes we could find a way to bring you back. We thought we would be able to cover more ground that way, and rescue you faster.”

He clasped her hands in his, looking bitter. “In the end, we still didn’t manage to save you.”

“You’re wrong,” she said and he glanced up, surprised. “I heard you…calling out to me. You helped me come back.”

His breath caught in his throat as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against her own. “I called for you every day.”

Raine’s brows drew together as she felt a pang of guilt in her chest. “I should have been here.”

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck as she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to his, and he melted under her embrace. Fresh tears ran down his face as he ran his hand through her hair, his free arm coming down to wrap around her waist.

He was reminded of long nights spent gazing up at the stars praying for her return, of hollow months spent longing for her smile, her laugh, her touch.

He sighed when she slowly pulled away, though his heart finally blossomed inside his chest after feeling wilted for so long. “For a year I’ve dreamt of this, of having you back in my arms.”

She pressed a light kiss to his forehead and he drew her even closer. “Kiss me again,” he breathed.

“Gladly,” she smiled softly against his lips. “I believe I have a year’s worth to make up for, after all.”

[aria-ashryver]

Woven Threads and Winding Roads (Pt. 3&4)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow Pairing: Tyril x f!human!MC (Raine) Words: 1.3K Ratings/Warnings: General; none

Summary: Five times Tyril attempts to braid Raine’s hair; and one time those threads begin to come together again as they should.

A/N: Written as a gift during the Choices Secret Admirer event - Raine belongs to the wonderful @thosehallowedhalls 🌼💛 Also participating in Choices February 2024 with the prompts Eros, Philia, and Pragma.

‘I thought we were training swordplay,’ Tyril protested, rubbing at his arm where Raine had just landed an unarmed blow. The sun dipped low to kiss the horizon; the woods were cool and calm this time of evening, perfect for a spot of sparring, just the two of them.

They’d been trading the “we can relax now” argument back and forth between them as the weeks wore into months; Undermount remained as well-guarded, well-provisioned, and frankly boring as ever, and still some days Raine woke, her fingers itching for the comfort of a blade.

By some unspoken agreement, she and Tyril had kept room in their slowly filling schedules to prioritise their weapons training. Peaceful though their corner of the world may be, they wanted their skills sharp.

‘Imtura said my Boulder form needed work.’ Raine grunted, trying her damnedest to slam into Tyril with her shoulder. ‘She threatened to make me spar with Skullcrusher if I hadn’t improved my Kaytar by the time we saw her next.’

She lunged forward with a jabbing thrust that Tyril parried, stepping within his reach and trying her Boulder form again. 

‘Here, be a little shorter for a moment, will you? Maybe just… humour me and fall down a little bit?’

Tyril stepped easily out of the way of her manoeuvre, the tip of his sword pointed low in a ready guard.

‘I think not.’

‘Damn it.’

They circled one another, blood humming with exhilaration.

‘You’re really not letting the cape thing go, hmm?’ Tyril smirked as Raine’s footwork turned a little more… swishy than was entirely necessary.

‘“Hero of Morella”, Tyril!’ Raine countered, a verbal riposte to match her swordplay as steel rang against steel. ‘How did it go? “Champion of the Realm and Saviour to all”? No, I am absolutely not letting the cape thing go. A title like that deserves a fancy cape now and then.’

Tyril gave her an unreadable stare. On the next swing of her blade, he side-stepped, grabbed the edge of her cloak, and jerked it so she stumbled off-balance.

‘Ack— hey!’ Raine laughed at the mischief dancing on his face. ‘Now who’s cheating!’

The leather band she’d tied her braid with came away in his hand; they traded blow after blow as her hair began to unravel.

Calling a draw some time later, they collapsed together on the soft earth, chests heaving. Their fingertips found each other’s in the grass, wildflowers and clover tickling their skin. The minutes passed in quiet harmony as they watched the sky melt from gauzy pink to deep tangerine, the sunset shining majestic through the gaps in the canopy.

Eventually Tyril pulled Raine upright; she sighed happily as he braided her hair once again, the slight tug of her roots against her scalp soothing as he worked. When he tied the end off with the leather band he’d stolen, she tugged it over her shoulder to inspect his work.

‘Not bad!’ Gingerly, Raine felt around her scalp. ‘You’re starting to get pretty good at this.’

‘I hope so,’ he said gently. ‘I can’t think of any other way I’d rather spend my time.’

‘What?’ Raine laughed. ‘Braiding hair?’

‘No.’ Easing her back down into the grass, Tyril captured Raine’s mouth in a slow, tender kiss. ‘Taking care of you.’

His kisses tasted of moonflowers and honeydew, the crisp, salt tang of sweat and steel. Raine drank him in deep, winding her arms around his neck to draw him close.

The world was easy, when it was just the two of them. When they had nothing and no one to please, little to think about except making the other smile.

Undermount was lovely… but sometimes, Raine found she couldn’t quite relax. She was plagued by this constant feeling that she was forgetting something. Missing something. 

Some spark of adventure. 

Life and laughter. 

Camaraderie and purpose.

Her purpose was in loving Tyril now, she supposed. There was freedom in that. The joy he brought her was so abundant it almost terrified her sometimes. She could do worse than spending her days making him smile.

Happiness brimming in her heart, Raine wrestled Tyril onto his back, peppering his face with tiny kisses, feeling his eyes crease with a smile beneath her hands. 

She pushed up onto her feet when he tried to kiss her back, darting just out of his reach.

Delighted, he laughed. ‘What are you doing now?’

‘Zephyr form! Try and catch me!’

Tyril’s expression lit with playful challenge. He sprang to his feet, his mouth curved in warning.

Grinning, Raine took off through the trees.

Raine jerked herself awake as Tyril brushed a lock of hair back from her forehead, pressing a kiss to her sleep-warm skin. 

Groggily, she glanced around at the book splayed open in her lap, the fire burning low in the hearth. The embers crackled, their molten glow soothing against the night dark that had stolen into their bedroom.

‘Was your book so interesting?’ he teased. Her cheeks were pink and creased with sleep; strong as she was, it melted his heart to see her look so impossibly soft, at times.

Every day, Tyril found a reason to fall in love with her again.

‘It was, actually,’ she said, indignant. ‘I was utterly riveted… up until the part where I, uh, fell asleep.’

Tyril chuckled as Raine tugged her shawl around her shoulders, shifting to make room for him on the soft, shaggy rug before the fireplace. He breathed in the scent of her skin as she snuggled into his side; Raine smelled of old parchment and sunlight; of wild thyme and blade oil. 

To him, she smelled of home.

Thumbing the dog-eared pages, Raine set her book aside. ‘Kade would love this series.’

‘You’ll have to lend it to him the next time he visits.’

Something soft glowed in Tyril’s chest at the warm smile that lit Raine’s face at the mention of her brother.

‘I’d like that.’

Snagging a pillow from the chair beside them, Tyril eased them back, his fingertips tracing idle patterns against her arm as he held her close.

 ‘We should put a bigger settee in the library,’ Raine mumbled into his shoulder, already half-asleep again. ‘So Kade can sleep there when he visits. If he wants.

Tyril pressed a kiss to her forehead, watching the firelight play in soft shadows across her face.

‘I miss him,’ she said quietly.

‘I know.’

‘I hope he has time to visit us soon. This house is too empty just for the two of us.’ Raine was quiet for a long time, before she added, ‘There isn’t enough laughter in the taverns here.’

Tyril had been feeling it too. That emptiness everywhere their friends weren’t. Kade. Mal. Imtura. Nia.

‘Tyril?’

‘Yes, my heart?’

Raine’s fingers knotted into the silk of his nightshirt. 

‘Can we sleep down here by the fire tonight? I just feel like I need…’ Her words were lost beneath a shuddering yawn. ‘I don’t know what I need. But, will you stay with me? The bed is just… it’s too soft, sometimes.’

Some nostalgic pull hooked itself beneath Tyril’s ribcage. Gathering up the blankets from the bed, he nestled them around Raine, slipping in beside her to gather her close once more. 

‘I will always stay by your side, beloved.’

Gently, he tugged the tie from the end of her braid, unravelling it with loving fingers. She groaned in contentment as he worked his fingers against her scalp, soothing away the day’s ache.

Tyril let the golden strands spill across his fingers, sunlight made solid. It wasn’t long before Raine’s breath had evened out beside him in peaceful rest. He watched her for a long time, memorising the lines of her face.

The wind blew cold beyond the frosted windows. It was a long time before sleep found him.

Click here for: [Prev - Parts 1&2]

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesfandomappreciation @choicesfebruary2024 @thosehallowedhalls @dutifullynuttywitch @lilyoffandoms @stars-are-within-me @jerzwriter

[lilyoffandoms]

My January Challenge Masterlist

I’m challenging myself to draw a little something for each prompt for @choicesjanuary2024. I started back in December and have fallen behind a bit but I’m gonna keep at it as best I can. So this is for me to keep track of all the ones I’ve completely finished.

Day One: Mal x Daenarya Silhouette (Blades for @storyofmychoices)

Day Two: Detective Lilah Rose (CoP for @storyofmychoices)

Day Three: Winter Princess (Nightbound for @ladylamrian

Day Four: Leaf, King of Birds (TCH)

Day Five: Lancelot x Guinevere Silhouette (Guinevere)

Day Six: Tatum x Aubrey Silhouette (FA)

Day Seven: Ethan (OPH for @peonyblossom)

Day Eight: Kieran (TCH)

Day Nine: Aerin x Raine (Blades for @oh-so-youre-a-nerd, abandoned sketch)

Day Ten: Nora Rose (CoP for @inlocusmads)

Day 11: Tyril Starfury (Blades)

Day 12: Saini Rusanen (ID for @aallotarenunelma)

Day 13: Sebastyan Thorne Case File (CoP)

Day 14: Trystan x Nora (CoP based on this by @inlocusmads)

Day 15: Mal Volari (Blades)

Day 16: Nia Ellarious (Blades)

Day 17: Kajsiab (Alpha)

Day 18: Imtura Tal Kaelen (Blades)

Day 19: Luca O'Rinn (ID for aria-ashryver)

Day 20: Aerin x Raine (Blades based on this by lovehugsandcandy)

Day 21: Together We Win (Blades MC)

Day 22: Eva Archer (WTD MC for @dutifullynuttywitch)

Day 23: Lilah Rose (CoP MC for @storyofmychoices)

Day 24: Wallace (Blades)

Day 25: Letter from Dad (CoP based on this by @inlocusmads)

Day 26: Marianna Howard (DaD OC for noesapphic)

Day 27: Ash Clark (ID OC for @aallotarenunelma)

Day 28: Trystan (CoP for @stars-are-within-me)

Day 29: Gabriel Rose (CoP based on this headcanon)

Day 30: Casey MacTavish (OPH MC for @jerzwriter)

Day 31: Trystan x Gabriel (CoP)

[vicissavior]

Aerin Valleros x Raine

a/n: I had that draft for like 3 years now and forgot to post it. English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there are any grammar mistakes. Feel free to correct them

summary: Aerin and Raine deserve a more emotional big fight at the end of book 1

also it’s Aerin x male MC (Raine)

————————————————————————————

chapter 16

we fight. we die. and we pray we will be avenged.

With prudent, almost poetic precision, Aerin raised the blade, its gleaming edge poised threateningly at his adversary's throat. A picture of suffering etched across his countenance – dark red rivulets tracing its path down his chin, a bleeding nose, and a tapestry of scratches adorning his battered form. With deliberate grace, Aerin placed a foot upon his chest, forcing Raine back upon the bloody stairs. He couldn’t help but cry out in pain as he clutched his bleeding waist in agony. "God, please, stop," he pleaded, wincing as he tilted his head back. A low, sardonic chuckle escaped Aerin's lips as he exerted a touch more pressure with his foot. "And here I thought you'd never beg for anything. Just look at you... It almost felt too easy," he mused, while Raine closed his eyes, trying to seek solace beneath his unyielding grip.

"I… I wasn't fighting you," he finally managed to murmur, peering up at his captor. His dark eyes sent shivers down his spine, as did his storm grey skin. The inky veins coursing down his cheeks reminded him of cracked marble, and his somber lips curved into a mischievous smile, shrouded in shadows, as they lingered in the thunderous echoes of battle that raged nearby. "You truly are as foolish as I thought."

"Why?" Raine countered, his voice wrecked by a cough, his breath growing more ratchet. "Is it foolish to have given my heart to the wrong soul? There exist fates far worse than death." His words hung in the air like an elegy, a profound reflection amidst the chaos. He heard Aerin laugh, and suddenly, the weight on his chest disappeared. Instead, Aerin now straddled his hips and he felt the cold metal of a dagger pressed against his throat. Raine tried to fight back, but before he could do anything at all, Aerin grabbed his wrist, pinning him down once more. "Well then, any last wishes?" he grinned.

"Kiss me," his voice trembled, a final longing expressed with vulnerability and no hesitation. Aerin paused, torn by conflicting emotions and taken aback by the sudden request.

Slowly, he leaned in, their lips meeting in a bittersweet farewell. Raine deepened the kiss, his hand gently cupping Aerin's cheek. In that tender moment, as their lips clung to each other, time itself seemed to slow, and the world around them faded into obscurity. The clashing of swords, the cries of battle, all of it dissolved into insignificance compared to the intensity of their final kiss.

Raine‘s fingers traced the dark veins on Aerin's face, committing every detail to memory. He wanted to remember every nuance, every feeling, as though it would be the last thing he'd ever do. It was a kiss of passion and longing, an aching goodbye to a love that was destined to remain forever unfulfilled.

„I love you.. I always will.“ When they finally parted, a single tear rolled down Raine‘s cheek, mingling with the remnants of their shared kiss. He gazed deeply into Aerin's eyes, seeing a flicker of something more beneath the cold exterior. Perhaps there was still a sliver of the prince, Aerin used to be, buried deep within.

"It won't keep you alive," Aerin reminded him and maybe even himself, his voice a solemn mumble. But there was an undeniable vulnerability in his eyes, a fracture in the armor he had so carefully constructed around his heart.

Raine smiled faintly, a serene acceptance in his expression. "No, it won't," he acknowledged, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it reminds me that beneath this darkness, there's a part of you worth saving."

With that, Raine starred into his eyes, surrendering to what seemed inevitable. Aerin hesitated for a moment, the dagger still poised but trembling in his grip. The battle raged on around them, a screeching of chaos and destruction, but in this suspended moment, it was as though the world held its breath, waiting for a decision to be made.

And then, with a shaken sigh, Aerin withdrew the dagger, his hand falling to his side. He stood up, leaving Raine untouched, a mix of emotions swirling within him. Without a word, he wanted to retreated into the shadows, disappearing into the very darkness that had consumed him.

‘No!’ Despite the pain coursing through his body, Raine's resilience manifested in an attempt to stop him. However, his brother was faster. In a fleeting moment of carelessness, the prince remained oblivious to the lurking presence of Kade. With a swift, silent strike, Kade's rusted sword hilt smashed into the prince's skull, knocking him out cold.

Raine gasped, his hand instinctively muffling his startled sound, gazing down at the two men in shock, "Kade! That was definitely not necessary...!" He hurried to his side, “Tz, of course. Leave him be, we have bigger problems!” he said, pointing to the looming threat of the Dreadlord, who had undergone a profound transformation in the meantime…

———————————————————————————

“What about the prince of darkness over there? Can I go stomp his skull in?” Imtura looked at the others questioningly, “As tempting as that is, we should bring him back. He has to pay for what he has done and serve as an example of what happens to traitors like him,” Tyril replied, but Raine was already kneeling next to the prince and picking him up gently. “I think bashing his skull would set a really good example.” Imtura continued but Raine wasn’t listening to them.

A thin rivulet of blood traced it’s serpentine path down the prince's temple, dripping gracefully from his chin. “I’ll take care of him...” Raine sighed and brushed the dark curls off his prince’s face.

He wouldn't let go of him that fast ever again.