#Day18: found family

[filopay]

RALOF REILIFSON

Thirty | he/him | 182 cm | Human | Nord

The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken Remember the pact of our youth Where you go, I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you — Gang of Youths

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Prompt from:@oc-tober2023 [ I am not following the same order ]

~ Found Family

Chirp, chirp.

Ralof was awake even before the birds had sung their first tune. The floorboards creaked as he quickly reached the end of his small room, throwing a simple shirt and trousers on. The bed groaned as he sat back down to squeeze his feet into his way too small shoes. It was a simple life, but he did not mind, because looking up, hanging on the loose nail opposite of him, was his leather armour.

Reaching for it, he drew a tentative hand over the fabric, it too wasn't much, worn and a little too small for his broad frame, but it was his and he is going to wear it with pride.

Running down the stairs, he was now fully dressed, passing by the kitchen, he already saw his father prepare some breakfast.

"Morning, dad. You're early." He noticed, as he pressed himself next to his father to steal a stale slice of bread, biting into it.

"You won't leave the house without a proper breakfast." His father chastises, making Ralof halt in his quick escape, "And you need to take something with you for lunch."

He held out a small package, the breakfast he had been preparing all wrapped up in a clean cotton cloth.

"You got up this early to make me these?" Ralof was touched, usually his dad was more than grumpy about his sleep.

"I was awake anyway. Couldn't sleep. So I made use of my time." He deflects and it draws a smile on Ralofs lips.

"I couldn't sleep either, so I thought I will get there early." He gently takes the package from his fathers outstretched hand.

"Thank you." He leans forward to give his father a kiss on the cheek. "I'll tell you everything tonight."

"May Fate favour you today."

Ralof was out of the door with a light skip to his step. The air was stuffy and it had recently rained, making the path muddy and dirty but he did not mind. It was his home and he liked it here very much.

"Good morning, Ralof." He looked up, seeing his elderly neighbour throw the night pot out the window, "You're early today."

"It's the first day at my new job!" He shouted back so she would hear him.

"A new job? I thought you would take over your father's smithy. How strange."

"As of today, I am a recruit guarding the outer Walls, so if you have any concerns regarding your safety, I can be of help." He pushes his chest forward, presenting his new leather armour.

"Oh, my door has been giving me troubles lately. I fear it will fall off its hinges soon. You father had crafted them for me when he was learning under your grandfather. If you could take a look before it falls open? I am afraid of having to life without a door in these dark times."

He could surely spare the time.

"I can take a look, no problem."

She smiles brightly. "You are a darling. Thank you, Ralof."

It turned out, the hinges were just slightly loose and he walked back home to get the right tool to fix it. Then she invited him for a small cup of tea, when she took out the baked loaves, he declined and instead took them with him as she insisted on repaying him.

Now, no longer as early as he was, he resumed his walk towards the outer walls of the fortress, his little lunch package, a little fuller.

His path had him walk straight through the daily market. He liked the market very much, so many different foods and items to look at and people that came from all around Aestricca just to sell their things here. The stories he had heard them tell, always captivated him, but at the end of the day, he was still glad to be where he was.

"Ooh, look at you all dressed up." He stopped at the sound of the familiar voice. Turning around he saw a young woman with a headband wrapped around her head, standing behind a small stall selling vegetables. She was the daughter of one of the farmers living outside the walls.

He instantly stood a little taller, showing off his new armour. "I am on my way to my very first day."

"Never thought you would be the one joining the other side. Be careful not to forget us little folk here when it gets to your head." She quips, pushing her chin out.

"It's only a trial today, but I'm sure I will be taken in as a recruit. I do it because I want to help us here afterall. If there are any concerns for your safety, you can let me know. It's my job now."

She chuckles. "Careful not to say that too loud while wearing that armour. Someme might take it you feel the fortress is not a safe place to be."

He frowns. "But thats why we have the guards, to make it safe."

"All I'm saying is, that this armour gives you authority. All kinds of people will turn to you just because of ehat you wear. Use that power wisely. Saying the wrong thing to the wrong person can get you easily killed and not all take kindly to the guards."

Ralof was quiet for a moment, stunned she would think so. He had never been very good at reading situations, at least that's what he'd been told. His father always said, he better stay away from jobs that require smarts. Politics make too much troubles, and do something with his hands. He was no longer a blacksmith apprentice but is being a guard so different?

"I didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to give you a proper warning, in case no one did. I'm sure you do fine though, you've always been enganging with the community anyway, if anyone, you will give the position a better name. You're one of the good ones, Ralof."

"I dont think there are bad guards." He shakes his head, "They follow a code, you know. I had to learn it too, the preservation of the community comes first. We need to act for the greater good. That's what I intend to do. Help people."

She gave him a weak smile. "Sure you will do great."

He nods, no doubt he will, he wasnt sure why she was so worried. Why everyone seems to want to warn him. First his dad, now her too. Then he gets it. They were afraid he'd be too busy for them. "I will still be able to help you out with setting up the stall. Don't fret, I might be more busy than usual, but I will be here if you have to carry a prized pumpkin again."

She laughs at that, "You almost dropped it last year insisting on carrying it all on your own. I'm not sure I will entrust my prized pumpkin to you again." She winks at him.

"But I will be training harder than ever now. So give me the biggest pumpkin you have and you'll see I will carry it for you with ease." He grins and she matches it easily.

"I will hold you up to that. Now I think you should be on your way. The sun is already rising above the walls." She points into the distance, where the high stone walls of the fortress loom over them all. "Dont think you want to be late to your first day."

"By the gods! I forgot the time. Let me know about the pumpkin!" He shouted the last words, already jogging down the street, dodging shoppers and merchants alike as he easily navigates through the masses of people.

A few more greet him, call him by name, but he excused himself, not having the time to stop and chat this time. He liked this city. Many speak bad about the lower district of Skaeld but he wouldn't be anywhere else. It's where he grew up, it's where everyone knew him, everyone was family to him, if blood or not. Here he would always stay and being a guard won't change that.

He had found his home, his family and choose to keep and support it as one should.

[ ~ 1.387 words ]

#oc-tober2023 #oc-tober #prompt #ralof #oc #Day18: found family #black ice #he is a himbo haha #there i said it #reaaaly love how his portrait turned out #whoop #exactly how i imagine him #october ralof

[laceyjane44]

GaaSaku 2023 Day18

Prompt: Secret Relationship/Masquerade

“Do not go too far, dear,” her mother scolded. “You must dance with a few of your bachelors this evening.”

“But, Mother,” her daughter whined. “The youngest among them is six years my senior, and the oldest would be comparable to dancing with Uncle!”

With a flick of her wrist, her mother folded her fan closed, using it to point at her daughter. A bejeweled and feathered mask, pinned perfectly to her hair and wrapped in a vibrant green silk, covered her mothers face though it was unable to cover the intensity of her glare. “And his fortune is comparable to that of a duke,” she hissed under her breath. “You are the only child of our name, and your uncle heads the family; without marriage, you’ll get nothing when your father and I are gone.

“I can manage my–”

“We cannot allow your youth to waste away while the prospect of your future remains destitute.” There was no room for rebuttal; there never was. “Understand?”

Sakura lowered her gaze, her voice quieting. “Yes, Mother.”

Another flick of her wrist, her fan was open again and she was waving the curled tendrils of her updo away from her face, the ballroom could be stifling at times. “Good, you behave as though you’d prefer a convent.”

“No, Mother.”

Observing her daughter for a moment, she sighed and waved a hand. “Go, mingle with the rest of the young women, perhaps they can assist you in narrowing down your choice. Duke Uchiha’s second son is quite the suitor, catching his attention would benefit the entirety of House Haruno.”

Sakura curtsied to her skirt and dipped her head. “Yes, Mother.”

With that, her mother; standing so straight and so refined, turned impeccably on a heel and joined her husband for the upcoming waltz. Sakura gripped her fan in her gloved hand, her mask feeling itchy against her face, her dress too ornamental and heavy for her liking, even her jewelry felt especially weighted today.

The grand hall was alight with the glow of the many sconces, candelabras and the chandeliers sparkling above. Music and dancing filled the space, a breathtaking display of fashion, etiquette, and beauty. The Masquerade ball, hosted by the palace and second only to royal celebrations, from the lowest of barons to the highest of grand dukes; all were in attendance, and all hid their faces for the chance to play the pauper and the stag.

Dress unlike her usual colors, mask that hid her face, and being one of the lowly barons’ daughters herself, she hadn’t needed a disguise for anonymity, her name and standing alone ensured no one – save for those who knew of her unique hair color – would distinguish her. She’d been approached by a few young men, though unfortunately for them she had recognized them despite their attire and had navigated her way out of a dance with them all thus far. Her mother had noticed, however, and she found her chances of avoiding the unwanted attention better on the terrace.

With a shawl wrapped over her arms and the heels of her shoes quietly clacking as she exited the hall, she climbed the grand staircase to the second floor where she hoped a balcony could be left empty for her. A guard stood near the terrace doors, and as she passed through into the evening air, the soldier didn’t even turn to glance at her. The door shut behind her, the sounds of the orchestra and the dancing sounded so far away now, only the starry sky and glowing moon were witness to her retreat. The gentle evening breeze of summer enveloped her as she leaned on the stone railings overlooking the central garden below, she had begun to wonder if he was even going to show –

“They’re relentless, aren’t they?”

Sakura gasped, spinning around spying a man stood near the door. He was a tall man, broad shoulders, crimson robes draped over his shoulders and belted at the hips with the ornaments of his nation. Even though that lavish and extravagantly embroidered fabric draped over his head and obscured his features, he hadn’t gotten memo of deception. Anyone to glimpse the exposed skin of his chest through his robes or see the adornments strung about his attire would have known of his name.

Her heart sprung to life within her chest, like a songbird with visions of freedom just beyond the bars of its cage, and she went to him. “Gaara!” she breathed as she leaned into him and he slipped his arms around her; strong, warm, and he always squeezed her more than the bachelor lords had ever dared to.

He lifted his arm and drew her to his side, the robe he wore inviting her into the warmth that always kept close to him. She shivered, in part because the air always felt colder when he was near, as if the sun of his homeland had followed him to this kingdom, and in part because of how the unabashed nakedness of his skin – no matter how modest – set her flesh alight.

“I loathe to have kept you waiting,” he said, ducking his head to whisper at her ear. She shivered at his breath along her neck.

“Did your session with the King go accordingly?” she asked, a life and an excitement breathing into her each time his deep blue eyes locked with her own.

Gaara nodded, admiring the beauty hugged against him, and he couldn’t help but tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then continue to tickle her neck to deepen that color on her cheeks. “Exceedingly so,” he boasted, always proud of his achievements through his skills in diplomacy. “My siblings and I will bring news of enriched trade and commerce to the Sultan upon our return. The end of this conflict will belong in your history books,” he teased.

“Your father will be pleased with you?” she asked, her own eyes searching his for the signs of truth behind his response.

“Yes,” he agreed, smiling at the way her face lit up at telling of his victories. “And he will likely offer me reward,” he continued, his gaze traveling down her figure to the attire that had been weighing her down all evening.

He could never wrap his head around their peculiar customs of dress in this land, the women especially. Hoop skirts and corsets, stays and petticoats, all they did for him was cover up the beauty of feminine form, one that his people were wont to praise and admire. Though, he had caught on to certain customs, and he could not be caught unaware of the one currently employed by the flame of his heart.

The colors he often wore were too dark for a complexion such as hers, she was a fair woman, with pale skin and light hair, though he noticed some familiar accents on her gown this evening. When he had spied her in the ballroom, ascending the stairs to the terrace as if beckoning him to follow, the burgundy color of her eye mask and the accessories of the same hue called out to him across the crowded ballroom. “Who are you matching this evening?” he asked, his hand at her waist slipping up her boddice and enticing a blush on her cheeks. “I haven’t seen any men wearing this color.”

Sakura peered up at him before the intensity of his gaze caused her to look away. She brought her fan up to her lips, tapping it against her chin. “Have you seen a mirror?”

He didn’t answer, though something about the way that he held himself shifted slightly, and soon the hand at her waist was guiding her to turn toward the door again. “Come,” he invited her. “I wish to dance with you.”

Sakura nodded, quieting her heart and stealing her will; she had expected this, she was counting on it even, and it was precisely why she had attempted to match his color. Perhaps a dance with him would give tell of their romance, maybe her suitors would take that smart step back she’d been begging of them, or finally be able to kiss him and not be obscured by shadows to do so.

They entered the ballroom and descended the stairs, a few masks tilted their way, curious as to why they matched though she knew no one questioned their identity.

“Do you see my sister?” he asked when he leaned down. Sakura scanned the floor below, finding the familiar blonde surrounded by the usual number of men that followed her. She nodded. “What do you think of her attire?”

“She is stunning as always,” Sakura replied with a smile, though she had sung the praises of his sister’s style to him before. “Even among the nobles attending, her visage and apparel are radiant beyond compare.”

Gaara smiled, the draping of his robes obscuring his face as he and his family had forgone the traditions of masks in leu of what their own wardrobe contained. On the dance floor, Sakura took her place in his arms, her eyes shining up at him though he wished that embellished mask hadn’t obscured her feature from him.

“When I return home,” he began as they started their dance; her hand in his, his palm molded to her hip. “I will have secured a name for myself outside of the throne’s succession.”

Sakura nodded, her heart fluttering. He had come here for that very reason; to be an ambassador for his father, to show his support to his sister as the heir to their family throne, and to ensure that he had no need for such a seat in order to make himself known and respected. She had been awed by his willpower and conviction, he’d been so bright and well spoken; the moment she met him was the moment that all other suitors fell short and were found lacking. She didn’t want to think of what would become of her after his return, this illation and happiness she had found was nothing more than a dream she would ultimately wake from, and when she did; he would be gone.

She smiled as she looked down, bittersweet and hoping the mask would catch any tears to fall. They had never been meant for one another, they came from different worlds, and even though she had tried insisting on the very same from beginning, she had fallen so deeply for him, for the way that he admired her in all that she was, and all that she wished to become.

“I hope your journey is a safe one,” she said, unable to lift her gaze, certain that her eyes would betray her.

Gaara twirled her around, basking in the jealous looks and sidelong glances from the men she’d spurned in favor of him, and bent down to speak softly in her ear, rasping his voice in the way he knew would excite her. “I always thought you would be beautiful in Sunesion robes.” Just as he had hoped; goosebumps.

“You have?” she managed to say, her voice almost lost among the sweeping crescendos of the orchestra.

“The vision of you in such a way has a habit of keeping me awake,” he admitted, enjoying the way her features flushed when he wooed her.

He hadn’t known if she had fallen for his appearance or his eccentricity, for his mannerisms or his foreign alure as a man that had journey across the kingdoms from the far away sands and mystifying dunes. He did know, however, that he was not above using any of these qualities to his advantage when vying for the heart of his conquest. He could be bold if she needed, he could romance her if she preferred, he could lay waste to her suitors in combat as were his own customs; it didn’t matter, so long as she continued to choose him.

“I will send for you,” he spoke quietly to her, the vibrancy of her green eyes shining at him from behind her mask as she caught his gaze. “Deeds, dowry, land,” he listed, admiring the way she hung off his every word. “Your family can have it all, so long as they give me you.”

She couldn’t speak at first, her lips parted in stunned disbelief, and he mused that if she didn’t use them momentarily, he gladly would. Soon her brows pulled together beneath her mask, her shock burning away to hesitation. “You jest,” she accused, resisting the urge to turn from him. She needed to see his eyes as he answered, he could lie to anyone else with that iron stare, but he’d never done so to her.

“Only if this be your refusal,” he countered, his heart skipping a beat as he offered her escape from this dalliance they’d fallen into together. He’d chase after her if she ran, and he’d fight for her, if need be, but he had hoped that she would welcome his proposal. “Though, if it isn’t,” he said, his fingers plucking the pins affixing her mask in place. He removed it from her face, allowing him to drink in her beauty as the drapery of his robes slipped down his shoulder as he did so, and she took in the fullness of his features as if the rest of the world had fallen away. “I’d be tempted to steal you away.”

“Must you send for me?” she asked, her pulse thrumming in her veins, her thoughts now filled with visions of a foreign land and a man to love her there. Her hand rested on his shoulder gripped the fabric of his robes, scanning his face and succumbing to the softness of his gaze. “Can you not take me?”

Gaara smiled and shook his head. “Let me build a place for you,” he urged her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face and she frowned. “I want to do this right.”

The song was coming to an end, their dance concluding, and even as the music began to fade and their steps slowed, Sakura could hear nothing but his professions, could see nothing but the truth in his eyes, and could feel nothing but the desire for more of him.

“What of my suitors?” she challenged.

Admiring the way her expression reflected the racing thought within her mind, Gaara closed their dance amidst the pairs of couples swaying to the subsiding tune. He could feel the eyes on them as their dance ended, gazes hidden behind a sea of ambiguity, and he knew precisely how to thwart the abundance of admirers vying for her hand. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Kiss me,” he said. “Be mine.”

Sakura leaned in, pressing herself against him and encircling her arms around his neck when he bent down to her. She nodded; she’d been his since the day she met him, had fallen for him more deeply with each time they spoke, and henceforth she wouldn’t hide her love for him. “Yes,” she agreed, eyes fluttering closed as their lips met during the crowded masquerade ball, their faces bared and their intentions known.

Forever.

Thanks for reading!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceyJane

FanFiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2120361/WiccadBaltane0501

#gaasaku #sabaku no gaara #ao3 #fan fest 2023 #gaasaku fan fest #sakura haruno #gaara #gaaraxsakura #naruto au #sakugaa #period au #masquerade ball #lovers