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bohemian-nights · 1 year

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Arlī(Anew) Chapter 9

Word Count: ~10,044

Rating: 18+

Warnings⚠️: Uncle/niece incest; violence; blood

Description: Envy is a disease that festers. Rotting the mind like a wound that was never tended to. Becoming gangrenous as it spreads throughout the body. Infecting each limb and tissue along the way until the body is overwhelmed. Succumbing to the sickness at long last.

AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact

The finale.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

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131 AC- Kings Landing

War is inevitable. Peace does not last forever. It can not. The nature of man will not allow it. The very nature that brings about men’s volatility and propensity for violence. Conflicts always arise. Old grudges are hard to forget. The sins of past wrongs bubbling to the surface. Our emotions can not be so easily pushed to the side. They can only be repressed for so long before we must give in. The cost being too high to not do so.

Nothing in life is without its costs. We are in a constant battle of give and take. When we do not get what we want we become hungry. Greedy for what we feel is ours. Seeking glory and redemption no matter the cost or the burden. Seeking to protect what is rightfully ours. Though the matter of what is yours or mine is a subjective one. Entirely fueled by our boundless wants.

Envy is a disease that festers. Rotting the mind like a wound that was never tended to. Becoming gangrenous as it spreads throughout the body. Infecting each limb and tissue along the way until the body is overwhelmed. Succumbing to the sickness at long last.

Such is the case with war. Those who yearn for power claim it through less-than-honorable means. Harvesting the seeds of discontent that were planted eons ago. The starving man can not help but feast upon its ripe flesh. Curing its weary soul and broken body. What is honor compared to desire? For he is hungry and has long since been denied. Envy makes bastards of us all.

Were envy and greed the reason why it had all come to this? Peacetime at long last ending across the Seven Kingdoms in the wake of Viserys death. Petty grievances and blood feuds perhaps killed it. It had been a slow painful death as was the late kings, but he had found relief in his departure from this mortal plane. That would not be the case for the Kingdom he had left behind.

For the first time since the dreaded bloody reign of Maegor the Cruel war was on the horizon. There was no stopping the not-so-distant sound of swords being drawn, shields clashing upon the battle, of dragons roaring above them, firing down upon them. There was no stopping it all. Not unless something drastic were to happen, but the balance was rapidly tipping in favor of the Warrior. One could only accept their fate and pray to the Gods that they would be spared. War was what was coming for them all.

“We hold twelve full-grown dragons to Rhaenyra’s five.” Daemon's voice reigned around the small council chambers that were already beginning to take on the image of that of a war room.

While the lords and ladies of court celebrated Aegon II's crowning, the prodigal son succeeding his father upon the Iron Throne, his chief supporters were called to the small council's chambers. There was too much to be done to leave it for the morrow. Drinking and feasting would be postponed. Their guests could enjoy the merriment for now. There was too much at stake. Too much that could go wrong. Too much that had already done so.

The king himself had chosen to sit in on the council meeting. His presence at his council was a shock though not necessarily an unwelcome sight. Some measure of duty must have snapped into him from his crowning. The adoration of the people was more sobering than any tonic that Grand Maester Orwyle could concoct and give to Aegon. He was king now. For the first time in Naerys nephew's life, he had a true purpose.

All eyes were upon Daemon as he lectured the council. Even Ser Otto who listened to the Targaryen man with a clenched jaw, but otherwise he too let the Rogue Prince lead on. A certain stilted truce had been erected between the two men. A common goal did wonders for their ability to tolerate the other’s presence though both took to glaring at the other in scorn when his head was turned. It was hard to forget the history that stood between them. Naerys strongly suspected that if given the chance they would strangle each other.

Nonetheless, the Hand of the King had offered Daemon a position upon the small council. His pick between his old position of Master of coin or Master of ships. He could be by the king's side, but it was the wrong king.

He declined both. For accepting any post would mean leaving Dragonstone in the care of Daenys and Aemond for the foreseeable future. Their daughter was more than capable of ruling in his stead. She had been groomed as heir since she was four name days old and by all accounts had the makings of a thoughtful and firm steward.

However, baseless as it may be, Daemon did not fully trust their new good-son with the sole care of their daughter nor did he see him as deserving of the position. The boy had been corrupted by his grandsire. He was not to be trusted. Who knows what he might do if he was not there to watch over her. It was a matter that Naerys would put aside to deal with later. They had more pressing concerns to deal with.

Aegon’s crowning, though successful, had almost been overshadowed by Rhaenys and her dragon. Uninvited guests. Crashing through the Dragonpit with no care for the small folk or its other occupants. It was not them who she spared. No, it was the king himself this time. A warning. He would not be so lucky the next.

“My niece will want to claim Dragonstone for her own.” Naerys recalled how Daemon and Otto spoke with hushed voices earlier that day. The older man walked beside them as they made their way out of the now-ruined Dragonpit back to their wheelhouse. Her husband’s grip on her loosened somewhat, but he had not let her go.

Rhaenys' stunt had shocked him enough not to. He kept her arm and hand resting in his, rubbing circles into the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb. She had to confess, it had been a comfort.

The Rogue Prince had tried to grab ahold of Daenys as well, but the girl remained glued at her new husband's side. It was a battle he folded to Aemond with a clenched jaw. There was not much he could do on that front anymore. Their daughter was undoubtedly not just theirs anymore.

Daemon cast his violet gaze down at Naerys. Giving his niece-wife a small smirk as she had shifted where she stood. He knew exactly who would put it into Rhaenyra’s head to make way for Dragonstone. Sixteen years of marriage would tell him if nothing else. Ser Otto no doubt had his suspicions as did the rest of those present. It was more than obvious.

Naerys was the most likely person to aid in her aunt's ill-timed escape. She herself would not correct their assumption. The princess had intended on smuggling Rhaenys out of the Red Keep. Albeit under a different set of circumstances, but she was in part to blame for her flight. They all might have paid the consequences for her sentiments had not the elder princess exercised caution or her husband acted with haste.

Dragonstone had no dragonriders to speak of upon its shores then. They had an urgent need to remedy their seats' present circumstances. It would not do to let such an asset fall into the hands of Rhaenyra and her ilk. The small island presented too much of a temptation, a goldmine for her to turn a blind eye to.

“It is what I would do.” Rhaenyra would grieve for her father that could be sure. Her greatest supporter. The man who put her before all others was lost to his sick bed, but she could not grieve long. With Rhaenys flying for Hide Tide, they could be sure that the older princess would inform her that Dragonstone’s Lord and Lady were presently absent from their keep. “Naturally, she’ll try to install Jaecerys as Prince of Dragonstone.”

Driftmark was only a half-hour flight from Dragonstone. It did not take a military strategist to see that the Black Queen had a chance. A small window of opportunity that she would not be able to miss. Could not miss it. The island after all possessed an edge Rhaenyra desperately needed if she were to turn the odds in her favor.

Four unclaimed dragons called Dragonstone their home. Sheepstealer, Grey Ghost, Cannibal, and Vermithor. The first three were wild, having never been claimed by man, but the last, though not wild, had not been claimed for near on thirty years. For his last rider had been no other than Naerys' great grandsire, the Old King Jaehaerys.

Silverwing would often wander off to coil herself around Vermithor in his cavern beneath Dragonmont where he had taken up residence, but he was a fearsome thing. It would be a difficult endeavor to tame all the dragons wild and old alike though not impossible.

Riders would of course have to be procured. Dragonseeds were not so hard to find. One need only look for their silver heads, or their many shades of violet eyes, or both, upon the shores of Driftmark, Dragonstone, and the alleys of Kings Landing. The Targaryen’s had always been more than generous with their favors and amorous attention upon the small folk of the realm. It was a gift to bear the fruit of a God. Or as close to it as mortally possible.

The capture of Dragonstone could easily turn the tide of the war in Rhaenyra’s favor if she moved quickly. If she had enough sense and foresight to employ its treasures to their fullest extent. The Greens had precious little time before the Realms Delight would gather her strength and strike. They could not lose their advantage to the hands of the would-be queen and her allies.

The castle had been left in the care of Maester Orlys. The kindly old man was as loyal as they came. As were the rest of their household and islands’ occupants, including a small garrison numbering less than five hundred. Daemon had always inspired a certain level of loyalty in his men, from his time as lord commander of the city watch to now. Always rallying their spirits.

Their soldiers would defend the ancient Targaryen seat in their prince and princesses name, but what was their loyalty to the might of a dragon? Or better yet two full-grown dragons? The Blacks would take the island under threat of their queen's house words' reigning true.

Daenys volunteered to journey back to father's seat. She was to be Lady of Dragonstone after him. The island was her home. The young princess would not see it fall into her cousin turned half-good-sister's clutches. She had been born on its smoky shores and she would rule over them when the time came. Why should she not insure its safety?

Her father was needed in the capital and he would not want her mother out of his sight. The two rarely parted from each other. He would not wish for her to defend, but they did not have much choice. Aemond had his mission at Storm's End. As much as she loathed to be parted from her husband so soon after their nuptials, Daenys was well-equipped to handle the issue on her own.

Helaena, who had looked and sounded more than elated at the prospect, extended her own services. “Two dragons are better than one and Dreamfyre is swift as is Moondream.” Neither her good sister's parents nor her brother would allow Daenys to go by herself. The little queen would more than makeup for her brother’s temporary absence.

At any rate, the she-dragons, apart from Daeron's Tesserion, with rider and dragon alike gathering support in Oldtown, were the fastest dragons in their possession. Both were lithe nimble things that would take the new queen and her good-sister to Dragonstone before Rhaenys or Rhaenyra could rally their own dragons and ships to make way for the fortress.

Truth be told, Naerys thought that the young queen was a great deal overwhelmed with her newest occupation. Helaena had always been a girl who preferred the close intimacy and company of those she loved best. Not unlike her good-aunt.

Her ladies, her family, and her non-human companions shined brighter in her violet gaze than all the dazzle of court. She had never taken to the spotlight as her sister or even her now good sister had. The now queen would have made an excellent lord's wife. Somewhere in the Reach or the Westerlands mayhaps.

She would have done well to marry into her mother’s house. In the comfort and safety of Hightowers towering stonewalls. There was much entertainment and less idle tattling to be found outside the barrier erected by her crown. Alas fate had other plans for Helaena.

Although it was done with care, Aemond shot down his sister's assistance. “You are needed here sister. Kings Landing can not be left without its own protection.” In her own words, just as Dragonstone would be better off with two dragons instead of one so would the capital. “I shall journey with my wife.” The pale girl’s eyes lost some of their brilliance, but she conceded with a small nod of her silver head.

The one eyed prince would give Rhaenyra more of a pause than either Daenys or Helaena. She would hesitate to strike Dragonstone with her half brother and his dragon upon its shores. Slow and old Vhagar might be, but she had seen war. She was the largest dragon in the world and though her rider was untested in battle, he was a force to be reckoned upon dragonback with or without a sword in his hand.

Of course his business at Storms’ End could not be delayed. With Daeron away in Oldtown gathering the support of the Reach lords alongside their cousin Lord Ormund it fell down to him to insure an alliance with the Storm Lords. He was to propose a betrothal between one of Lord Borros’ daughters and his younger brother on his behalf.

Time could not be wasted on the onset of war. Aemond could only stay long enough to cement his wife’s position on Dragonstone before taking to the skies for the Baratheon seat. He would only be gone for a few hours, but that would be more than enough time for Rhaenyra to try something if she was alerted of his absence from his Daenys’ side. His wife would have her fathers guards, but Aemond, as men often want to mark their territory, wanted a man of his own with her.

The prince asked his grandsire for leave of Ser Criston. He was a valued friend and mentor. It was clear to all that he trusted the Dornish knight with his own life. He would be up to the task of guarding his little wife while both himself and her parents were away from Dragonstone. Should the need arise he would be able to whisk her away to safety.

A resounding no was the answer to his request. From his goodsire and grandsire and surprisingly Naerys. The first and viewed the knight with the utmost distrust. His wife was prone to agree with him. While she did not think she did not believe him to be a malevolent man as her husband would describe, she did not believe that he would do all in his power to defend her daughter if it came to it.

Thankfully, Ser Otto had need of him. As the new Lord Commander of Aegon’s Kingsguard Ser Criston could not leave the capital. Not while their new king's reign remained tested and the exact whereabouts and plots of their enemies were yet unknown. Aemond was given his uncle Ser Gwayne Hightower instead.

Though he was no Ser Criston he was a worthy and honorable knight. Unlike in the case of the Dornish knight, his regard for his nephew extended to Daenys. He viewed her as her mother’s daughter rather than her fathers. The issue was settled when no objection was given. While it pained him to admit to it, viewing him to be over familiar when it came to her, Naerys knew that her husband trusted him enough to see to their daughters welfare. For a short while at least, Ser Gwayne was safe from Daemon’s suspicion as long as he kept to his person and minded his post.

“Helaena mentioned a beast underneath the floorboards.” Daenys had leaned in to not so subtly whisper to her mother on the walk up the hill where Vhagar and Moondream rested. Apart from Naerys and her husband, who were to see the newlywed’s and the Hightower knight's departure, the rest of their party had gone back to the Red Keep.

The now queen in question had always been a unique child. Insects called to her more than people, even animals. Dragon dreams. A gift to some or rather a curse for others. She was a sweet girl, but it was clear that the Dreams had taken a toll on her.

Giving the appearance of a half-scattered mind. Daenys the Dreamer had been half made they say. Prone to getting lost within the rich fancifulness of her imagination rather than the solid reality that stood in front of her. Her imagination was what ultimately led to House Targaryen’s continued survival. Past the doom and beyond.

“Nyke gaomagon daor pendagon bona ao istan se cause hen skorion massitas? Muñnykeā. Nyke pāsagon ziry istan va moriot meant naejot massigon.” I do not think that you were the cause of what happened mother. I believe it was always meant to happen.

Naerys felt her face heat up as Aemond and Daemon guffawed at Daenys remark. Ser Gwanye could neither speak nor understand Valyrian, but he seemed to infer what had been said when he added his own chortles to the fray. Whatever doubt they had at her part to play in the incident vanquished. If both Daenys and Helaena could see what she had inadvertently caused, there could be no uncertainty.

“Do stop fussing kepa. You look so grim.” Daenys laughed lightly when her father placed a kiss into her curls after she had saddled her dragon. “My husband will see that I am comfortable before he leaves and he won’t be gone very long.” It went without saying that Ser Gwayne would deal with both Daemon and Aemond’s ire should anything happen to the young princess.

Daenys then went to place a kiss upon her mother's cheek as Naerys pulled her in for a hug. Letting out another round of laughter at her mother's tight grip. “Don’t fuse either. I shall see you both soon enough.” The newlyweds and Ser Gwayne, who climbed upon Vhagar’s back with some hesitation after his nephew, were off to Dragonstone.

With both Aemond and Daenys away securing Dragonstone and Storm’s End the present agenda rested on their strengths and allies in relation to Rhaenyra’s. The chief among them being their dragons.

The loss of Meleys was a greater inconvenience than her rider. There was always a danger that came with the opposition gaining an additional dragon, but they held both more dragons and dragonriders than Rhaenyra. They were at the advantage in the skies as Daemon had reminded the council, but he, and Aemond, would hesitate to send either herself or Daenys ride into war. In all likelihood they would not need to.

The Blacks' five dragonriders comprised mainly of the would-be queen's children. They all knew that Rhaenyra, like her uncle and second brother, would be reluctant to send any of her boys into battle unless need demanded it. Jacaerys and Lucerys, who while were more than adequate riders, were learning the commands and capabilities of their beasts as well as themselves. Joffrey's dragon was too small to be ridden into war. Rhaenys would no doubt hesitate to send her granddaughter the Lady Baela into battle as well.

Lady Rhaena had no dragon to speak of. Only three dragon eggs, given to her from one of Syraxes clutches that had all yet to hatch. Though the sweet young lady did pray to the Gods every night that she would be made a dragonrider as her mother the late Lady Laena had been. To join the fold beside her grandmother and elder twin. Naerys had heard that the youngest Lady Strong could seldom be parted with her eggs.

Dragons of course were not the only way to win a war. They were an advantage sure enough, but they were to be the last option on both sides. They brought more danger than they were worth many times over. For when dragons dance, the destruction can be endless.

It could not go without saying that the Rhaenys' escape had left them with little time to execute the Greens' more diplomatic plans. Plans which depended a great deal upon the older princess’s temporary captivity within her guest quarters. It was a setback, but not one that they would not be able to recover from.

Ser Otto had sent a raven to Driftmark for its maester. A man, who in addition to studying as a novice alongside Grand Maester Orwyle many ages past, was a great friend of Naerys' late uncle Ser Vaemond. So much so that he often sought his counsel ahead of that of his own brother. Of course, this tendency to seek guidance in the form of Hide Tide’s maester was helped by him being a blood relation to the Velaryon knight's now widowed lady wife.

When an acolyte takes his vows and forges his chain to become a maester, a degree of impartiality is expected to follow. One’s previous allegiances to their house, their name, and the lands from which they come from must fall to the wayside, but the call of blood is a hard bond to break. He had been shown to hold his lord's brother’s opinions and interests on matters relating to the Driftwood throne. The maester kept council and advised his sons in the wake of their father's untimely end.

Driftmarks maester would have alerted Ser Vaemond’s sons of recent events in the capital upon receiving the hands' letter. A king had been crowned. A king who was sympathetic to their woes. Knowing all too well of the plight of the rightful heir against that of their enemies.

Offering the hand of friendship if needs be. The need only to embrace said friendship and a hand would be lent to place one of Naerys' cousins upon their rightful throne. However, with Rhaenys traveling back to Driftmark they could no longer be so sure that their friends would be able to act on their good faith.

With good weather, the Queen Who Never Was could be back on Driftmarks shores by the day's end. Meleys was older now, but she rose to the task when needed. There could be no doubt that Rhaenys would alert Rhaenyra of the Greens' treachery and treason. Of the danger that would soon be upon her and her sons. Bringing her a worthy ally and a much-needed dragonrider. However, the situation at present was temperamental.

Naerys could not doubt that if she were to transport herself within High Tides' white stone walls she would find a den of discontent. Unease brewing from an unwelcome guest upon its shores. An interloper. Filling up every chamber within the castle. Waiting. Building up dread until the cup would overflow.

What was supposed to be a time of triumph had become a time of mourning for too many reasons to name. They had been made a fool. The sons of House Velaryon. The blood of the seahorse and old Valyria. The rightful heirs of their uncle’s throne. First Ser Vaemond and now they too were being pushed aside. Their pain was being paraded over by a feckless woman and her bastards.

If nothing else, the disquietude should unsettle the Black queen. She was an island surrounded by enemies. It did not occur to her that she had made a mistake coming to Driftmark. She had thought herself safe even with her sole advocate, the formidable Sea Snake lying in his sick bed. She had another that would scare off the monsters for her a thousand leagues away within the Red Keep, but he was dead now. Gone to the seven hells. If Rhaenys did not make it back to her husband's shores in time, Rhaenyra could find herself fighting her own battle within her chosen place of refuge.

A series of what-ifs had overtaken fate. Naerys cousins’ would not speak a word against Rhaenyra and her sons for fear of the king's might and reach, but their silence would only last for so long. They would not forget who made them so low. Never mind if it happened a day ago or ten years.

If Ser Otto’s letter was received before Rhaenys arrival it would only take to gag and bound the would-be queen and her sons. Delivering them to the Red Keep. To Aegon to do with as he pleased. All would be right with the world then. Driftmark returned to its proper heirs. If not, a fight would commence for another day.

“Our support lies heaviest in the south.” Ravens had been sent to houses small and great alike throughout the Seven Kingdoms but had yet to receive replies in mass. It was the early days yet. The lords of Westeros waited to see where the deck would land.

The Riverlands were divided at best. It had always been that way. The support of the Reach and the Westerlands were all but guaranteed. Aemond was dealing with the Stormlands. The North was unlikely to join their cause, but they were unlikely to be of much help to Rhaenyra either.

Winterfell and the lords of the North were a long way away from Driftmark much less Kings Landing and as the Starks' house words do so dutifully remind both friends and foes, winter is coming. With the heavy snows of winter, the journey south would be a long one. The fighting might be down before Lord Cregan Stark ever reached the neck. The Vale was without a doubt lost.

“Perhaps we might send the princess to parlay with Lady Arryn?” The new Master of Coin Ser Tyland suggested, but he backed into himself once Daemon began to glower at him from the opposite side of the small council table. “Or mayhaps a messenger or a raven might be better suited to offer terms of friendship.”

“Jeyne Arryn would sooner see the Prince of Dorne as king than Aegon.” Jeyne Arryn’s blood was Rhaenyra’s. Enmity remained well within the lady’s mind. Her opinion of Daemon remained sour. He was reason enough to side against the Greens. The Rogue Prince had twice done her kin over. Leaving Rhaenyra to fend for herself. Turning his back to her when she needed him most. The business of him marrying his daughter to the son of a traitor would further leave a foul taste in her mouth.

Lady Arryn neither trusted Ser Otto nor Alicent to keep her interests at heart. They had crowned an unworthy man, a usurper, all because he had the luck to be born with the right appendage betwixt his legs. She herself had to contend with countless attempts to unseat her as Lady of the Vale from her own less-than-worthy male relations. If they were to send an envoy it would be a wasted effort.

“We should send an envoy to Hide Tide.” Daemon turned to Ser Otto. “Before we do anything. We might be able to settle things peacefully.” Ser Otto held his tongue though he did narrow his eyes at the Targaryen man's suggestion. “She’s at a disadvantage.” War was a last resort or rather it should be, but for the Hand, Naerys had found that he believed war to be their only option. They were dealing with an unreasonable foe blinded by her emotions and entitlement.

“She has the support of House Velaryon and House Arryn at the least.” More houses were soon to follow. “She is not so weak.” Ser Otto said as his light eyes flitted to the map spread out in front of them. “The princess will not give in so easily.”

Rhaenyra was a proud woman. If she believed herself wrong or denied what was hers she would not give up. From where she stood, damn the laws of men and Gods alike. Her father had seen to such. The Iron Throne was hers. She would not turn her back upon it now. Or ever if she had the means to. She would fight. For as long as she could, but no one fights a war which they could not win.

“We still might reason with my aunt.” Rhaenyra had the support of House Velaryon, but without them, even with her four dragons, she would surely lose. No allies would come to her rescue if the Velaryon’s left her out to dry. Taking away her support would stop the chaos before it began. If they were to take away the Velaryon’s and their fleet, this war could be over by the end of the day.

Rhaenys did not want war herself. Not truly. Not a woman who had sacrificed her own crown near thirty years past to prevent one, but what could they offer her? She sided with Rhaenyra for her granddaughters. For their just due. Naerys did not doubt her aunt's words. Everything she did was for them. They could not offer her eldest granddaughter the crown, but perhaps they might offer Lady Baela Driftmark to rule over in her own right. By all the natural laws in the land, it should be hers.

“Rhaenys has made her decision.” The dowager queen kindly reminded her. Painfully so. The Dragonpit would take weeks to repair from her choice of action. Alicent gave her a soft smile and pulled her brown hand in her pale one before turning to face the rest of the council. “My good daughter has not. We might still reason with Rhaenyra. We offer her fair terms. Jaecerys will be the lord of Driftmark after Lord Corlys if he so wishes.”

It would anger Naerys' cousins, true enough. Though it was a necessary sacrifice for the time being. Surely a future betrothal could smooth things over when the time came to. War was too much of a burden to give into her cousin's demands as honorable as they may be.

“Lucerys a Lordship of his own. Joffrey may become Aegon’s cupbearer or Aemond’s squire at Dragonstone or your own Daemon.” Her husband snorted, throwing his violet gaze at the king's mother. However, he did not say anything against the proposal. Ser Otto looked as if he too wanted to object, but he once again stayed his tongue. The Hand of the King was increasingly becoming outnumbered.

“They all will be welcomed at court.” She gave a pointed look to her father who stiffened in his chair, “and they may keep their titles. On the condition that Rhaenyra journeys to Kings Landing, bends the knee, and swears loyalty to our king.” Alicent turned her eyes toward her son in acknowledgment. Aegon’s violet eyes seemed to liven at the image that his mother painted. “She is Viserys' eldest daughter. Not his son. It is time she recognizes that.” If Naerys' cousin were to give in she would stand as no threat. The once crown princess had bastards for heirs. She was a woman. She was not a threat.

Ser Otto conceded as did the rest of the council. The right course of action dictated it. Diplomacy demanded it. If there was any way to solve this matter civilly then by all means. The dragons may not dance yet. They must first exhaust all of their options before declaring war upon Rhaenyra and her allies. Only then if she rejected their offer of a truce. Their offer of kinship, would they have no choice, but to pursue less than peaceful measures.

It had been ten odd years since Naerys had last stepped foot onto Driftmarks shores. The castle remained unchanged. She wondered if it was even a possibility that it ever could. Some things were stuck within the ages. Remaining a static fixture in our memory. Hide Tide stood as a reminder of youth. An echo of a distant past. Of the joy and naivety she had in it.

The people, however, were a different story. Hide Tides' occupants were more changed than the castle in which they resided. Very much so. Seasons came and went and they were weathered by the passing storms of time. Weary from the days that stained and left their mark upon their skin and in their eyes. The hauntings of past lives and lost chances.

Rhaenys and to Naerys' shock her uncle Lord Corlys were waiting for them. Her mother's eldest brother's umber complexion looked dull in the dusk from his sickness. His neck had been wrapped in gauze. He should be resting, but the man had become especially obstinate in old age. No warm words of welcome were exchanged between the two factions upon the beach where they had landed Caraxes and Silverwing. The only greeting they received were weary looks. Her aunt would not fully meet her eye as she looked on ahead past them.

“Where is Princess Rhaenyra?” Ser Otto was the first to speak. His raspy voice sounded out over the crashing waves. Naerys and her uncle-husband were well suited to offer terms of alliance to Rhaenyra, but the older man had insisted upon journeying with them. His trust in Daemon was fickle at best and Naerys relationship with her cousin was less than idyllic. If they were to choose diplomacy, the occasion called for a steady hand to guide them which is what the Hightower man believed himself to be.

Lord Corlys lips parted in reply, but then there was no need to supply an answer. A roaring could be heard above them. Syrax’s. On top of the golden she-dragon sat Rhaenyra wearing her fathers crown.

Rhaenys was not the only one to have made a half-mad escape from the Red Keep during Aegon’s coronation. Ser Errk had turned his white cloak. At least in service of the new king. The last anyone had seen of him was brother seeing him off Blackwater Bay aboard a ship to Driftmark no doubt. To his queen. He had taken Viserys crown with him that now rested on top of the Black queen's white head. If Rhaenyra could not have the crown of the conqueror, her fathers would have to do.

“I wish to speak to my uncle.” Rhaenyra kept her eyes trained upon Daemon as she climbed off her dragon to face them. Only briefly strained her lilac gaze down at Naerys. She looked the part of queen. Had made her entrance as such, but she was ever herself. Queendom would only make her more so. “Alone.”

Daemon made to answer her. Something crude judging by the smirk upon his pale brow, but Naerys beat him to it. “Go with her kepus.” She met her cousin's narrowed stare with one of her own. A crown upon Rhaenyra’s head would not change her. Her father’s death would not bring her humility, but their was something upon her pallid visage that did show a chink in her queenly armor. She would not deny her closure. Let this be the last of it.

Daemon did not listen to his niece-wife. “My wife can wait in the hall dear niece.” He sneered at the realms delight as he grabbed Naerys small hand. Her husband pulled her along towards the castle without sparing the Black Queen a second glance. Rhaenyra fummed, but she held her head high when she saw her cousins’ dark amethyst eyes turning back to glimpse at her.

The rest of their party attempted to follow them, but guards blocked a positively vexed Ser Otto and his men from doing so. The Lord and Lady of Driftmark scampered off when they were back behind the safety of their stone walls.

They came to a standstill at the heavy oak doors leading to her uncle’s Great Hall. Her husband placed a kiss on her brown forehead smoothing back her silver coils before pushing her towards a bench outside of the hall. Her cousin took care to slam the door shut after Daemon went through.

Naerys did not know how long she remained sitting on that bench. Time seemed to become immaterial.There was nothing to mark it by. She did not worry herself with her thoughts. There wasn’t much Rhaenyra could do or say that would move her husband. There was no harm in leaving the two alone. Good may in fact come from it.

Her cousin cherished their uncle’s opinion above all. She was obsessed with it. If anyone could make her see sense it would be he. She heard no noises coming from behind those shut doors. Not until she heard a loud bang. Dread made her pull open the door. The scene she walked into was a half-surprise.

Daemon and Rhaenyra stood on opposite sides of the long table which occupied the center of the room. Much like a map of the Seven Kingdoms was spread out on top of it. Naerys' husband was leaning over a chair. Seemingly trying to control his breathing. Her cousin stood pacing around her side of the room. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Whatever queenly veneer she had slipped out from her.

“Leave us.” Rhaenyra turned her head to hiss at her. For a brief moment, Naerys was transported back sixteen years. Back to Dragonstones shores. A distant memory of her happening upon them when she went to fetch a book she left in the painted table’s chamber. She had told her the same then.

Naerys was frozen. Trapped in time. Mayhaps people change less than the chambers and halls in which they take up, but she wasn’t a girl anymore. She herself needed reminding of that. Her husband's voice snapped her back to the present.

“Do not listen to her little one.” Daemon breathed harder than he would have had he been sparing with his men around their training yard. He held out a white hand for her to take. His face had lost what little color it had. still leaning over the chair as he motioned her to him “Come here my sweet girl.” He kissed her forehead again before burying his face into the top of her coils when she had reached him. Drinking her in. He seemed to calm somewhat. “That’s a good girl.”

“Kepus.” Naerys tried to begin, but he only buried his head into her neck. The princess sighed as she brought a hand to run through his silver strands. Grazing the scars that ran down his neck. She would let herself bring him comfort once more. Questions on what had upset him could wait for when they were behind the safety of their own walls back at Dragonstone.

“Sweet kind Naerys, you’ve done everything that’s been expected of you.” Her face had turned sour. As if she had bitten into a lemon cake made without sugar. She spoke through clenched teeth. It was a wonder how they did not break from the strain. Her lips screwed up into a frown. “Everything apart from giving our uncle sons. I guess your womb is where it all comes to rot. You were never worthy of that.”

“You are a placeholder.” Rhaenyra continued on. Hurling half-truths in rapid succession. Her mask was put back into place. The appearance of ease. Of self-surety, but her eyes, the eyes always tell. Frustration. Neither darkness nor truth, but her displeasure was unrestrained. “That’s all you really are Naerys. My replacement. He couldn’t have me.” She would never let her forget that. My father wouldn’t allow it, so he took you.”

Why was she still here then? There was no need to have her still. If she had overstayed her welcome there was nothing tying him to her. Apart from what her dear cousin did not want to name. Daemon loved her. He was not an easy man, but she pleased him. She was sorry for it. Naerys pleased him beyond measure and that was what haunted the would-be queen. She made him happy as he did her. It was unexpected, but she would not feel ashamed for it.

“Rhaenyra, dear niece I couldn’t have your father.” Daemon let out a snigger that resounded around the room. No longer leaning upon Naerys to stand. while placing a hand to stroke down her arm. “We could have been each other’s everything had circumstances been different.”

Rhaenyra blanched at their uncle's words. Her thin mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish. “I even pictured Viserys in your place on occasion when we fucked. Naerys was the first time I hadn’t the need to.” Rhaenyra collapsed into a nearby chair. Naerys herself felt as if she too might collapse at her husband's admission had he not held her up rubbing circles into her back to calm her.

“You’ve bewitched him!” Naerys could not help but laugh at the utter ridiculousness of it. She had no tricks up her sleeve. No wiles which to capture him by. She had been a girl ten and five when she had married Daemon. Whatever she had done to make her husband care for her she had done unknowingly. One could not take what was freely given.

The anger came then in Rhaenyra’s pale glower. A frown dropped across her brow as her eyes darkened. A spark. Lit by scorn. By rejection. “Do not take it as a compliment dear cousin.” She spat the next words at her. Leaning over her chair to do so.

“I chose her.” He removed himself from his wife’s side to stride over to where Rhaenyra sat. “She does not know her power over me. She does not know she wields such a thing.” Rhaenyra sank further into her chair at her uncle's approaching form. She recalled the last time she had stoked his temper. Her dress's neckline covered the evidence of it. “Naerys did not climb into my bed in the middle of the night to seduce me away from you.” It had never been about her. “Have you actually ever loved anyone Rhaenyra?”

He came to a stop to bend down to meet her cousin's eye, but the woman avoided him. Taking to staring at Naerys instead, before Daemon yanked her head to face him. His eyes were grim. “I have already told you that if you had her you would understand. She’s given me more than I deserve.”

He reached out to take her wrist in his hold. Her cousin struggled against his strength, but he only tightened his grip. “She would have given me a son, but what good is a son without her?” Rhaenyra wasted no time in snatching away her hand when Daemon released his grasp. “I admit I am a selfish man, but I would do everything for her.”

“Nyke sorry ziry gaomagon ao.” I am sorry he used you. Naerys spoke out. Having to take a breath to steady herself. Both sets of pale violet eyes turned to face her. “Nyke sorry syt bona.” I am sorry for that. Her cousin was a victim in her own way. That could not be denied. Her husband had greatly misused Rhaenyra. He had used and discarded her when he had seen fit. More than either suspected. She knew her uncle. He would never apologize for it.

“Yn nyke emagon dōrī ōdrikagon ao.” But I have never hurt you. She had not made him do the things he had. Daemon was his own person and he had chosen to bend to her. He chose her own on his own violation. He had strung her cousin along, but Naerys was not the cause of it. The Rogue Prince had started his games long before her husband had set his gaze upon her.

“Nyke emagon dōrī jeldan ao ōdrikagon.” I have never wished you harm. Despite everything she had done to her to the ones she loved, Naerys could only feel pity for her rather than true contempt. Tried as she might to rid herself of the sentiment she could not hate her. To do that would mean she resented her. Rhaenyra had nothing of value that she wanted except for her surrender.

“Ziry does daor emagon naejot mōris bisa ñuhoso.” It does not have to end this way. Honey words. The call to kinship. The Lady of Dragonstone could not forget why they were here in the first place. Peace. It was for peace. It was up to the would-be-queen. They could avoid the destruction of their house. If she bent the knee to Aegon and gave up her claim to the Seven Kingdoms. She could live a life here among House Velaryon. Make her court there or wherever she wished. “Ao kostagon sagon dāez Rhaenyra.” You may be free Rhaenyra.

For all her posturing, Rhaenyra was not a warrior queen. She rode a dragon, but she was no Visenya. She was not even Queen Rhaena. She was a princess of leisure. Preferring the comforts of court and its admirer’s than the endless toil of battle. She was not a political woman either. She was no more suited for war than she was to sit upon the Iron Throne after she waged it and paid the price in blood she did not have.

Rhaenyra glared at her. A shadow blotted her face. She sensed her pity and she did not want it. Pride. It would keep her cousin from doing what was right. Her conceit would not fall today. It would be her undoing.

“You are considerate to try little one, but Rhaenyra is just as mad as her father.” Daemon removed himself from looming over the Black Queen, sauntering over back to Naerys. “Believing in dreams.” Letting out a chortle at her cousin's sullen expression. “Even if that prophecy my brother obsessed over is true, we are all the conqueror’s blood. It could mean any one of us. In case you have forgotten, my wife has given me a child. My blood, my grandson shall sit upon the Iron Throne.”

He grabbed her hand before Naerys could process the meaning of her uncle's words. So much had been said she felt as if she was being thrown from one revelation to the next. Barely keeping a hold onto her head. “If all you wish is to talk of is riddles, then there is nothing left to discuss.”

Daemon gestured to the Dark Sister at his side.“I could end it all here. I’d be doing the realm a favor but for the love I bore your father. I spare you this kindness. Let it be my last.” He left the chamber doors wide open as they made their exit. Storming out the castle at double the rate which they had entered into the halls of High Tide.

“You shall do as you please Lord Hand.” Daemon snarled as they passed Ser Otto. He had been proven right. The Hightower man’s eyes gleamed beneath his solemn face as he gave the signal to his men to move out. Naerys' husband helped her onto Silverwing before mounting Caraxes who was just as tempestuous as he rider. They took flight for their smoky shores without another word exchanged.

Dragonstone was quiet when they arrived back. Their welcoming party consisted of Maester Orlys and a couple of servants. The genial old maester informed them that Aemond had not yet returned back from Storms End. Daenys had retired to their new apartments in the Sea Dragon Tower far enough away from her parents in the Stone Drum.

That did not stop Daemon from ordering a servant to fetch Aemond as soon as he arrived so that he may enlighten him of the outcome of his mission. “It can wait kepus.” Naerys uncle’s mood remained foul, but that did not mean that he needed to bother the boy. It would be well past a decent hour whenever he and Vhagar landed. Whatever business he had with their good son could wait until the morrow.

Both he and their daughter deserved the night to themselves. He did not argue with her, but being reminded of their daughter's recent nuptials seemed to set him off further. Leading him to march up to their chambers while whispering curses under his breath.

Naerys could recollect that Daemon had kept her in their bed for a week after they had wed. He had not even loved her then. Of course love had very little to do with attraction. “I believe I have broken you.” He had laughed then when she frowned in confusion as she pulled slightly off his chest after their lovemaking.

She had been mostly frightened of him and the emotions he invoked in her. Emotions he likely shared. “Issa iā sȳz run dōna riña.” It is a good thing, sweet girl. He pulled her back down to lay her on top of him, lining her heat up again with his hardening member. Bringing the back of his rough hand up to caress her face. “Pāsan emā pryjatan nyke tolī.” I believe you have broken me too.

Naerys called for a bath to be brought for their chambers. It had been a long day. The first of many to come. They could worry about what would happen in the coming weeks tomorrow. For now, they needed to rest. They would be no good in the agitated state they were in.

The steaming water calmed their nerves. They sat in quiet contemplation. Daemon had taken to pulling her onto his lap after they had finished bathing the grime of the day off of each other. Resting his chin on top of her head. Stroking a warm hand up and down her bare arm while the other took her hand in his to play with her fingers. Naerys closed her eyes daydreaming of a not-so-distant future.

“It shall be nice to have children running around here again.” Daemon hummed in reply kissing her forehead. Naerys recalled that even in the darkest days when she was laid up in bed the little patter of Daenys feet and her laughter bouncing off their walls had been the most blessed sounds she heard. It had kept her sane in spite of her failures. “Future kings I suppose.” She would not pressure him for an explanation, it would come naturally.

“Aegon is not worthy to sit upon the throne.” Her husband looked at her as if it was obvious as she turned her gaze up to him. He was right about Aegon himself, but their nephew's line did not end with himself.

“Aegon has sons.” Jaehaerys and Maelor. Sweet little cherubs. They held their mothers' temperament rather than the impudence of their father. With the proper training, Jaehaerys could be an honorable heir. “Our nephew is healthy.” Their king was a lustful drunkard, but he otherwise was in perfect health.

“Men die every day as do children, especially in war.” Daemon breathed into the shell of his niece-wife’s ear. “In any case, they would need a regency.” It would never come to that. They both knew it. The lords of Westeros would rather seat a grown man upon the throne than boys even in peacetime. It was why during the Great Council Ser Laenor was passed over in favor of Viserys claim. “We would need a strong king to lead us.”

Aemond. He was next in line and conveniently married to their daughter. An overstep that Ser Otto and Alicent had missed in their haste to secure Dragonstone for themselves. An advantageous position for an ambitious man. For a second son.

“As well as a strong Hand to lead our king.” Her husband let out a chortle at her musings. Aemond no more liked his new good father than Daemon liked his good-son, but he was not too fond of his grandsire either.

Daenys would no doubt convince her husband who was besotted with his little wife that her father would make an excellent hand should it come to it. Naerys did not wish for her daughter to find herself in the precarious position of queendom, but our fate is rarely within our control. The Gods have the final say.

“Viserys was a weak man little one.” He sighed into her hair. “I will not let my affection for him blind me to his faults.” More than brotherly love by his own admittance. Or rather more than brotherly worship. It had been an obsession. “He is the reason why we find ourselves in this mess. My brother was never meant to sit upon that damned throne. He let vipers rule his court for him.” Daemon would not allow the same mistake to happen twice.

“From my blood come the prince that was promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire.” The riddle. The one that had caused her husband to spiral before she arrived. Daemon let out a snort. “The conqueror’s blood. My brother thought it referred to his line as does Rhaenyra.” Presumptuous given that neither he nor Rhaenyra were the only ones with the blood of the man who united the Seven Kingdoms running through his veins. The folly of their house. A lack of hubris. “It could just as easily be ours.” Their blood upon the Iron Throne. A call to right the past wrongs. The idea was too great to ignore.

“Ziry dōrī ivestretan issa.” He never told me. Daemon took to gazing at the flames from their chamber’s fire. Its light cast shadows across his pale face. He squeezed her hand. Bringing it to his lips to place a kiss upon the back of it absentmindedly. Giving her a half smile. “Hae baseless hae ziry istan ziry dōrī ivestretan issa se nyke istan zȳhon dārilaros.” As baseless as it was. He never told me and I was his heir. Dreams were not always so baseless. Naerys wondered if her uncle truly believed his own words. Surely he could not. His face was too troubled for him to believe it was pure conjecture.

A knock sounded at the door. Daemon barked at the poor soul on the other side of their door to bother them in the morrow, but the interruption came with urgency. Aemond had arrived back worse for wear. Rambling. His Hightower uncle Ser Gwayne had been the one to greet him. Whatever condition the young Targaryen Prince returned in had stoked his uncles’ distaste. The two quickly found themselves in a shouting match within the Painted Tables Chamber.

Daenys was called for and she had tried her best to diffuse the situation, but she could not make sense of it and had descended into her own mutterings. They did not need to be told twice when their daughter was in great distress. Daemon Hastily jumped from the bath helping his wife dress before grabbing Dark Sister. The two bound for their map rooms chambers across the Stone Drum that remained eerily muted.

The reason for Ser Gwayne's repulsion and their daughter's distress was apparent to the naked eye when they entered the chamber. “What have you done boy?” Aemond was soaked to the bone. Half drowned was more like it. Drenched by rain from the Stormlands and something darker. Crimson specks scattered across his face and into his long silver strands. He paced the room running his hands down his face while his young wife was comforted by her lady’s maid. Ser Gwayne stood.

“I was owed an eye.” His expression, red with irritation and rage, was as wild as the rest of him. Turning to face his good-fathers assessment. Rancor had clouded his judgment. The fury of a vengeful God. Or rather a young man who thought himself such. “The debt has been paid nuncle.” At the cost of their lives.

“Lucerys was there.” Ser Gwayne supplied with his hand still furiously rubbing his temples. Bringing up the other to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Delivering a message from his mother. He had left. The boy had left, but he chased him down.”

“I was owed an eye!” Aemond repeated. Daenys tried to go to him, but her mother held her back. Pulling her daughter's head to her side. Petting her silver strands like she did to soothe her as a girl. The young princess had worked herself into a frenzy. “I had every right—”

“Were you owed his life as well?” Naerys' husband met the younger man’s wroth with his own cold fury. The boy backed down some. Glancing at Dark Sister strapped to his good-fathers person. Aemond played the part of a God Daemon was every bit a malevolent Valyrian God of old.

“Aemond did what he thought was necessary kepa.” Only Daenys came to her husband’s aid. Breaking free of her mother's hold. The young girl put her hand in his. Her honey face was pale and her violet eyes were red-rimmed. The first blush of a new bride was gone.

Aemond had the veracious nature of a man of his house. Feed by the fire of youth. He did not know how to control his temper. Rash anger rather than reason Daenys had gotten her first taste of the violent passions that a man such as her husband possessed. A Targaryen man in his prime. Naerys herself had married one. He had mellowed over the years, but sleeping dragons do not lie dormant forever.

“He was her son.” Aemond went rigid at Naerys' chiding. Not expecting his good-mother's reprimand. It was as if his mother was in the room with him and not in her chambers in the Hands Tower oblivious to what he had done. “Rhaenyra would gladly die for any of her children.” Her cousin was many things, but she was a mother above all else. Naerys knew what a mother's love could do.

“As would I! As would your mother!” He was a boy beyond his depth. He was not a mother. He did not understand the depth of that bond. To carry and give birth to a child only to have him snatched away from you. He could not know. His half-sister would repay them in kind ten times over.

“A son for a son. That is what she will want. Do you have any idea of what you have done you half-blind fool?” It was Naerys who had to rest her hand upon her husband to calm him. To stop him from throttling their good-son. “Aōha mandia jāhor emagon aōha bartos valonqar!” Your sister will have your head boy! The Lady of Dragonstone thanked the Gods Daemon had the good sense not to reach for Dark Sister.

Understanding that her new husband provoked her father's ire and that nothing good could come from staying in his company, Daenys dragged Aemond to their apartments. Putting some distance between the two Targaryen men was for the best. Ser Gwayne rushed from the chamber to the rookery to inform his father and sister of the events that had unfolded tonight.

Rhaenyra would not stop until she had her fill. Her feast upon their innards. Until they felt as she did. They would know her pain. A mother's broken heart. The sound of Valyrian steel slicing through bone and flesh alike played in Naerys head. Dragons flames. Burning everything in their path. Colliding with each other in a crimson blaze beneath ash and ruin. Only blood would pay for what was spilled today. The price of vengeance.

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

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Okay but what about Orc!bucky and Goddess!reader ..😳🤭 Shes an Aphrodite, I can imagine her looking down and seeing orc!bucky and just craving him. They be a great power couple ...

Hi hun! I'm sorry it took me so much time to write this fic, and, well, since most of us already have some depiction of Aphrodite in mind, I decided to make the reader her daughter. Guess the story turned out something very different from what you wanted, but I still hope you will enjoy it!

Somebody to Die For

Pairing: orc!Bucky x goddess!Reader

Warnings: violence, injuries, angst, hurt/comfort.

Words: 2385.

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"I will fight for you till they cut off my arms, my legs, and my head."

You looked at the warrior in front of you, his heavy body clad in armor, his arms holding a spear and a shield you brought to him yourself, earning a slap from your mother, the goddess of beauty who forbid you to help humans so shamelessly, and yet, you always did.

The man standing in front of you was neither orc nor human but the descendant of the both of them, the only hero who could possibly defeat the evil forces when every other man had failed. He's rough; he's rude; he knew little of honor, but he's the one who still fought when the ones before him had long given up. Despite the prejudice against orcs, now even humans understood he was their only salvation.

You hoped he would survive the last battle. Not just because you needed the human kind to have a savior, a leader, the one who would aid them when nobody else would, but because you had grown found of him, the man you had been guiding for years, helping him to protect those who detested him, bringing him hope when he was ready to give up, embracing him when he no longer had the power to hold his spear. A daughter of the goddess of beauty, you were to bring this beauty to the parts of the world where your tired mother could not, but you brought hope instead.

"Fight for me, and if you win, I will fulfill your wish, soldier." You whispered through your golden mask that covered your face entirely, only your eyes visible to the orc standing on his knees.

Your mother never approved of it, but you had seen people going mad from having just one glance at you, your immense beauty blinding them, driving them insane, making them forgot who they were. It was a curse, not a blessing. It was the reason you wore your mask at all times, only showing your face to those your deemed worthy, strong enough to withstand the charms you had no control over.

You knew your hero wanted to see your face more than anything else in the world.

"I will bring you the demon's head on a golden plate, my goddess."

You'd chuckle at his attempt to please you, but you were scared, you feared he would fail, fall, die in the hands of evil forces feasting upon human kind and threatening to destroy all the gods had created. You could not fight along him, possessing no skills to win that battle; moreover, your mother would most certainly kill you if you intervened, breaking the oath you had given to her. You could only help the hero you had chosen while staying in the shadow.

"Stay alive, Bucky." Those were your last words when you pressed the cold lips of your mask to the orc's forehead, giving him your blessing and hiding the tears behind the cold metal.

If only you could fight, but your hands grew cold every time you touched the hero's spear, unable to wield a sword or a mace. The war was not your domain, all the gods kept telling you when you plead them to gift you enough strength and courage to engage in battle. No, your fate was to shine like a golden statue, blinding all those who dared to look at you, bending them to your will like you mother had always done. They couldn't understand your ardent desire to watch over the humankind and all those who needed your help, spending your time healing soldiers, aiding orphans and the elderly, bringing food and water to all those in need. The gods cared little for mortals. Even when the Great Evil appeared out of nowhere, wreaking havoc on the lands belonging to people constantly praying for gods mercy, the immortals were too busy with their own affairs, realizing how serious the matter was when it had been too late.

When the orc you clad in charmed armor stood in front of the army of the undead, the diabolical creatures with horns and gaunt wings growling behind them, ready to strike, you prayed for him to come out of the battle alive. It was his fate to be the last hero standing between the chaos and all what was dear to the living, yet he bore no responsibility for it - he didn't ask to be the hero, to fight when his spear was long broken, go forward while the undead broke his bones and demons feasted upon his flesh, ripping pieces of meat before the orc could crush their heads with his mere hands. You kept casting spells to aid him, knowing your mother would whip you, but you didn't care, healing your hero's wounds so he could fight until he would cut off the head of the Demon King with his own sword.

Your hero was laying on top of demon's dead body, still holding the head even while unconscious as you sneaked into the field full of corpses, bodies of demons and bones of the undead rotting under the blazing sun. Your hero was dying from his wounds, bleeding so much his skin was loosing its color, and now it was your time to bring him back to the living before it was too late.

Oh, you knew your mother could kill you for stealing the salve meant only for gods to heal their wounds, but you no longer cared. What did it matter if the one who saved you all was to pay with his life for everything he had done to protect the living? No, it was unfair. The orc stood to gain nothing from his heroic deeds, gods being too arrogant to acknowledge him properly, but he had the right to keep his life.

And so you carried his heavy body to the springs, washing his wounds, applying the salve generously and casting as much healing spells as you did in your entire life to keep him alive, praying and hoping the gods would take mercy on him. Yes, he was three quarters an orc; he was barbaric, savage, ferocious, but he had kindness in his heart like no other, agreeing to fight for humans who had always utterly despised him. Despite being a brute, he was kind to children, women and elderly people. He had never lay his hand on those weaker than him, except when they attacked him on their own. In the end, he was the only hero who answered your call when all those you had asked for help died on the battlefield, unable to fight the demons and their army of corpses.

It had been three days and three nights you spent tending to his wounds until his heart started beating like of a living being. You cried your eyes out when you heard it. The salve had finally worked, and the open wounds closed, leaving his body scarred but healed; his breath steadied, and soon your hero would come back to you, you knew. Gods had answered your prayers for the first time.

"Am I dead?" Bucky asked you when he opened his eyes on the fourth day as he saw you tired face, your mask long abandoned the moment you brought him to the springs.

You smiled at him and held him close, his head laying on your lap while you witnessed his awakening, his body covered in salve, making his skin shine like pure gold.

"You are alive and well." leaning to him, you left a kiss on his forehead, brushing his dark disheveled hair out of his face, and the orc made an odd sound as if he were purring like a giant cat. "You will live a long life, cherished and honored by those you protected, I promise you."

"Will you keep that one promise you gave me, my goddess?"

He's impatient, he had always been, and you laughed at his eagerness, knowing his body still hurt, but the orc didn't seem to mind it. Was he unhappy with seeing your face? You didn't think so, and yet, apparently, he wanted something else. Gold? Women? Immortality? The last one would be quite hard, that is if gods wouldn't struck you with a lightning or something just to teach you a lesson to be more pliant and respectful.

"What it is that you want, my warrior? I will do whatever you ask me to if it is within my powers, just like I promised."

"It's within your powers, I'm sure." He grumbled, making you laugh even harder at his unusual grumpiness, touching the tips of his tusks, and the orc laughed at you, too.

"What is it, then? Don't keep me waiting, mortal, for even I grew tired of tending to you over four days." Winking at him in the most frivolous manner just like your mother had taught you, you giggled then, and the hero's face lightened up.

"This is not how I imagined it to be, but who cares, anyway." he muttered to himself and sat up, turning to you and hurriedly searching the pockets of his torn pants, obviously empty after his long, intense battle. "Shit! I've brought you golden rings and necklaces and bracelets, but those flying bitches made holes in my clothes. I should have hidden my gifts under some rock before the battle."

"Oh, you should have!"

He's impossible, you thought as you both snickered, his huge, calloused hands touching gentle yours. He brought you gold? What for?

"Well, whatever, I'll find more for you later if you don't mind, goddess. Will you give me the honor of becoming my wife even if I didn't bring you the gifts?" The orc tilted his head to the side, looking at you as if it were just a mere matter of something minor, unimportant, but soon, as he watched you openly gape at him for his audacity, he quickly bowed his head, kneeling in front of you.

You were speechless. For once, you had never for once suspected of the hero having these feelings for you. Surely, he prayed to you, he respected you as a mortal should respect their deity, he was intrigued by your true appearance you had concealed from him, but his spoke of marriage seemed preposterous. Was it your face again, your mother's charms? No, no, it couldn’t have been it for the hero intended to bring you gifts, wedding gifts, that is. He had come prepared.

Unbelievable. Did his feelings grow while he didn't even know how you looked?

"Forgive me my insolence, goddess." he mumbled, realizing his offer could be a grave offense to you, a being standing way higher than him. "But I can serve you till the end of my days, do whatever you tell me to. If I have survived the last battle and brought people salvation they wanted, I must be good enough, right?"

"Will you serve me even if I am not your wife?" You asked him quietly, looking at your hands covered in the balm you stole from the gods just to heal his wounds, knowing you were attracted to him despite your feelings never being voiced.

For a couple of seconds the orc grew silent, watching the carpet you put him on to tend to his wounds: it had been soaked in his blood that now dried out.

"I will serve you even then." He uttered grimly, refusing to look you in the eyes, his gaze on your hands as he kept sitting in front of you.

Afraid to speak, you fell silent too, wishing to touch him, brush your hand against his disheveled hair. Oh, didn't you want him? Didn't you wish to be embraced by the very hero you spent years guiding and healing so he would continue his journey? Didn't you deserve to be loved, the daughter of the goddess of that very same love you'd been craving for so long?

But your hero was a mortal. You were frightened to even think what gods would do to him for his impertinence.

Oh, evil gods. You spent years to teach and guide the mortal hero they despised who brought the salvation to the lands they were so afraid to lose, and yet neither him nor you were given anything in return. Instead, they were granting you a torture of refusing advances of the only one dear to you.

Please, darling.

Your mother's irritated voice cut through the silence like a knife, and you froze, knowing she was rolling her eyes at you, watching you secretly like she often did.

You have a heart of stone if you reject the man who is standing on his knees in front of you. I grant you my permission if you so need it.

As her mighty voice rang in the complete silence of a cave, Bucky shivered, immediately getting on his feet. Of course, he knew nothing of your mother except that she was a goddess, and he had never heard her voice. It didn't matter to you, though, as you stared at him, dumbfounded.

Permission. She granted you her permission to marry him. You were free to act as you like, knowing the gods wouldn't bring their wrath upon your hero.

"I will have you if you promise to love and cherish me like no other, protect me, and be loyal to me until your last breath." You whispered, your eyes full of tears as you watched him from below while he towered above you, and the next second he was on his knees again, taking your arms in his and kissing your tears away.

"Even if my face will be disfigured, my tongue cut off, and my body dismembered, I will love you till my last breath." his voice was so quiet, yet you heard him as if he were screaming at the top of his voice. "I promise to worship you and come to you aid whenever you need me."

Hurriedly ripping a piece of his ragged, soaked in blood clothes, he wrapped it around your finger like it was a ring he had lost.

"My soul, my heart, and my sword - everything I possess I give to you."

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @iheartsebandchris

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #orc!bucky #winter soldier #mcu #mcu fanfiction #requests

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claybrownie7566 · 3 years

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"You're a child, you know that?" Legend said, cringing at his own biting tone.

The sailor's expression darkened, "so are you. At least I still have the heart to act like one."

Legend glared. He and Wind had been at it for a few days, a tension no one could pinpoint had been growing between the two and it had broken today.

"You want me to act like a child then? Like YOU? Skipping around playing at a hero when you shouldn't be?" The vet said.

"Why are you like this?" Wind spat, "You don't even try to relate to me! You're young too why do you get to tell me how to act? What is it about me that you decided to hate all of a sudden!?"

"I DONT HATE YOU WIND! I JUST CANT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU HAVE TO BE HERE YOU'RE THIRTEEN GODDESS DAMNED YEARS OLD!" Legend screamed.

That shut them both up.

The sailor's mouth closed, and his face looked far older than it should've. He didn't look like the thirteen year old that had stood there a moment ago. He looked like a boy still, but one who had a man's soul. His eyes were no longer the color of a laughing brook. They were deep and cold like the sea.

"You care and you're scared of it. You want me to grow up so I'm ready to protect myself when you can't. You see me as you wish to be seen but you need to look harder. Whatever you're trying to protect me from will reach me anyway. Whatever truths you think I don't know, I do. I'm just.....it's hard to be yourself and be a hero too. I am just a kid, but that doesn't mean I haven't been through the ringer a good dozen times."

It was Legend's turn to be silent.

For a split second he thought he was talking to Warriors.

Wind shifted, dragging the Phantom Sword from it's sheath. His hand fit into the hilt like he was born to hold it. He stared at his reflection in the blade.

"I am still a child, but that's only because I have chosen to see the good in the world despite the horrors of my past. I've chosen to look to the sun. I choose to see my sister in the clouds and my grandmother in the streams and Tetra in the trees, no matter how much I miss them. That's what keeps me going. I choose to live and be happy in an act of pure defiance because gods does it get tiring. It seems to me, like you're doing the opposite. You're letting everything weigh you down and it kills us to see you like that. I know your past, some of it at least. I know you've done more than any of us combined but you're still you right? I'm not a hero all the time. I'm Link. I'm Wind. I am not my title, but yours seems to drown you. If you wish to be yourself then be yourself. Be a kid." Wind smiled sadly, "Is that it? Did I find the key to this mess of a chest you're carrying around?"

Legend said nothing. He couldn't. He stared at his little brother is awe, a wistful sadness lingering like smoke in his gaze.

When did he let Wind grow up?

Had he been grown up all this time and Legend had missed it?

"Leg?" The sailor whispered, taking a step forward, the top of his head was to Legend's nose now. He stuck his sword in the ground at their feet.

"I'm sorry" Legend said, "......I'm sorry I can't be a kid with you....I'm sorry you have to grow up someday......"

Wind looked at him carefully, like one more look would break his already broken friend. He stepped closer, wrapping his small arms around the older hero.

"If I have to grow up someday.....I'm just happy I'll get to do it with you."

Legend hesitated, he had a thousand things to say and nothing at all as he hugged him back.

"Me too."

#linked universe #just a small thing I thought of #Legend and Wind bonding #Legend protective brother that underestimates little brother #yeah

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mybabygirlelsa · 3 years

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So I was watching Frozen II the other day and the whole confusion about the voice visited again. Like, who's calling Elsa? Is it Ahtohallan? Her mom? Her own self? Jennifer Lee (I think) said that the voice belongs to Iduna, but that doesn't sit well with me. And then I remembered that I've written my own theory about it, which why not share it with you? 😂

It's probably very inaccurate based on the things we know, but it was really fun to write!

Hope you enjoy!

(A/N: italics are extracts of the book "Frozen II: The Junior Novel")

The Fifth Spirit

Very long ago, in a time no man can recall, humans weren't the dominant species on Earth. There were no rules, yet neither freewill.

Or so it was thought.

People lived under nature's laws -they interacted with it, respected it greatly but mostly feared it. Prophecies about nature's rage were foolishly believed and seriously taken into account.

But it wasn't nature they truly feared -it was its magic.

Humans never succeeded to understand magic -it was considered unreachable. Only a small group of people that repeatedly refused to take part in the "vision of civilization" decided to co- exist with the magical elements and spirits of nature. These people were the first human inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest and the ancestors of the future indigenous Northuldra.

As time went on, people grew more and more arrogant, thought they were capable of everything and gradually stopped believing in nature's power. They began sacrificing and falsely taking advantage of nature's goods. Seeing their audacity getting out of hand, the spirits of air, fire, water and earth sought help from Ahtohallan, the mythical river said to hold all the answers.

The then- small glacier, foreseeing the consequences of people's hauteur, sacrificed a part of herself and sculpted a female figure, with hair and skin as white and pale as freshly fallen snow and eyes as blue as shining ice. With her ancient magic, the glacier gave life to the woman, who was none other than the Fifth Spirit.

According to scanty myths, the woman had achieved great and extraordinary accomplishments in her previous life and the magical river had collected and kept her soul to be used for greater things when the right time would arrive. However, those speculations never came to be confirmed.

Nonetheless, why she was there and why she was chosen, that she never came to know. And a part of her wondered if she ever would.

People's conceit kept growing in an astonishingly fast pace while the Fifth Spirit was given a duty -to connect humans and the magic of nature, as well as protect the only home she would ever know in her existence; the Enchanted Forest.

Apart from her duty, she was also given a power no human had known and no spirit had possessed -the ability to create ice and snow, to control and bring winter. After connecting with the other elements, she was also gifted and given powers to represent all four spirits, such as wings, the ability to strike lightning and control the water, as well as the power to cause earthquakes.

The Fifth Spirit was sent to humans after fully mastering her powers and understanding her purpose. Under the guidance of the unseen deity, people began having faith in nature and underlying yet great respect.

However, this was not an easy task to achieve. It took her almost a hundred years to restore people's faith and trust -but she successfully accomplished it.

Each passing day her power grew significantly, and so did her fondness for her creator. To show her gratitude, she used her unprecedented power and expanded the length and height of her beloved glacier, making Ahtohallan an extension of her powers and mostly, herself.

To honour her child, Ahtohallan assigned to her a new task; she had to visit a chosen woman's dream and recite a poem that would soon be heard from every young Northuldra mother's lips -the lullaby of Ahtohallan. The old glacier also gifted her with a beautiful staff that could summon power and turn into a crystal necklace when unneeded.

Having already mentioned the lullaby, it's important to subjoin the meaning behind a specific lyric -"dive down deep into her sound, but not too far or you'll be drowned". The youthful spirit created a sheer drop that ended to an ice sheet to keep there the utmost truth, for only the most selfless souls would be fearless enough to ignore the warning, as well as brave enough to dive into the abyss. That, if anyone would ever manage to reach the frozen river. For the mighty Water Nokk -who shared a very special bond with the Fifth Spirit- guarded her secrets.

For the very start of her existence -as well as in the meantime of her mission to restore people's faith-, the Fifth Spirit would travel across the Earth to bring winter and joy to the children. She was the very first winter spirit -Jack Frost made his appearance a lot later. Legend has it that she was the Snow Queen the Danish author, Hans Christian Andersen, spoke about in his fairytale. However, unseen as she was, this theory had never had a requisite basis and was never further explained.

As time went on, the forlorn deity was assigned tasks that aimed for specific, chosen people freeing their potential, resulting their lifework to be considered admirable, and almost magical. All spirits had agreed there were and there would be humans that deserved to be known for their own "magic". The Fifth Spirit helped people accomplish dreams and bring visions to life, as she was the only spirit that had the power to transform, painlessly get into one's head to guide and/or give advice and take a human form of any needed age as well as gender when one's achievement was considered of great difficulty. She even had the power to seek a specific ability she didn't possess -which would later on be declared hers- so her efforts could be crowned with success.

She could do anything. There was only one thing she was unable to do; feel.

She was emotionless.

Even her fondness for her mother was taken away after the second century passed. It was thought that if she was given the ability to feel, she would show mercy and compassion and her unlimited patience would spare.

So forsaken she remained. Nameless and isolated, unseen and walked through by people, having to serve her cause on her own, merely meeting with the other spirits on specific occasions.

One of them was on the first day of spring every five years, when everything was blooming, blossoming and growing. A great part of the Enchanted Forest was her deed -she expanded its length and grew more trees, more grass, bloomed more flowers, added more bushes, a small river -where the Earth Giants would be sleeping in the future- that floated into a waterfall which ended at a sheer drop, a pit full of black rocks later known as the Lost Caverns. Because of this, the spirits gave her the appellation "The Reincarnation of Mother Nature" -the only name she was ever given.

For most of her existence -as long as she was waiting for her next task to be handed-, she lived close to her glacier. Away from any kind of life, on her own, in her Ice Palace of memories. She spent so many years close to it, that her fondness returned and she wanted to praise her treasured river.

So she gifted her her voice.

Her act was pure and sincere and played a significant role in the Enchanted Forest's and spirit's future. The iconic and quintessential call would later on be heard, and then, much later, known worldwide as one of the most famous melodies of the Gregorian Chant -the "Dies Irae".

During one of her missions, on the fjord south of the Enchanted Forest, while she was making sure the protector of people, the famous warrior of old, Aren, had achieved his life-changing goal, something changed. Aren was a little bit like her, a protector who served people as his cause. She was protecting the Forest and was serving both nature and humans. Yet a big difference grew the gap between them; he was loved and surrounded by people.

He was feeling.

She wasn't.

Occasionally, she would roam the night skies to witness a life she had never known, to witness how people felt.

And remind herself how she couldn't.

She had been told to distance herself from sunlight, as if she was a single snowflake that would melt when she met with sun's light. She had been told humans were weak, mischievous and unpredictable creatures. She had been told she was greater and superior. Yet she caught herself longing to spend a day warm in the sun, longing to see people dancing...

Longing to feel.

And so she did. Painfully, her as cold and hard as ice heart melted and its first beats sounded like heavy raindrops hitting the dry soil loudly.

She had never felt so alive. She had never... felt.

However, her accidental action required a cost to be paid.

The same, previously mentioned scanty myths, referred to another woman's soul, which had been collected and kept by Ahtohallan. She was certain she would be the one given the great purpose and when she wasn't, her soul never reached the heavens as she swore revenge on the young soul of the Fifth Spirit. Hiding her true intentions, in Ahtohallan's chambers she remained, nurturing the young spirit like mother Ahtohallan did.

Once she learned the youthful deity had broken the laws she had been restrained from ignoring, the resentful soul brought her bitter foe to the Enchanted Forest, secretly from Ahtohallan, and for the first time in forever, she allowed her to feel.

While she burned her.

The Fifth Spirit was set on fire and was obliged to feel her skin melting, like snow on a bright, sunny day. It was unimaginably painful. Her haunting call, that was later on used by a young Northuldra girl, tore the sky apart and meant only one thing;

"Help me".

If it wasn't for Ahtohallan's and Water Nokk's intervention, the Fifth Spirit would have vanished. The evil soul was banished to the Lost Caverns, a place with no way out, where one would be at their lowest emotional point from that day forward. However, before she was sent away, the hateful soul put a curse on the traumatized spirit -when she failed to serve her cause, she would be burned. If the mistreating soul still existed, that no one ever confirmed.

After her adored water horse healed her with the water's curative properties, the Fifth Spirit swore not to feel again, and accepted the prohibition of getting any near the land where the future kingdom of Arendelle would come to be.

Thousands of years passed and the unseen spirit's heart had gotten colder than ice, preventing her from repeating her mistake. Ahtohallan and the other spirits mourned for her, for she was not who she had once been, and made great efforts to change the past's design, intentionally forgetting what had been done was unchangeable.

Despite her change -and most likely because of it-, the Fifth Spirit had dedicated most of her attention to her precious forest. Seeing this, Ahtohallan assigned her the task of looking after a young Northuldra girl, so the deity could be surrounded by her forest.

The Fifth Spirit and the young Northuldra were somehow connected. Iduna, the young Northuldra, would occasionally hear the eerie melody of the spirit, since the deity would "sing to those who hear". The girl would also be seen playing around with Gale, the feisty Wind Spirit. Iduna was connected with nature in an unexplainable way -she was different and destined for great things; she was chosen.

One day, ships arrived at the entrance to the fjord south of the Enchanted Forest -wooden ships full of people who were determined to create a home for themselves near the water. Soon, the kingdom of Arendelle came to be and the Fifth Spirit knew what that meant.

The newcomers were welcomed by the Northuldra's ruler when he met with their king on a cliff as the sun set. The leaders firmly shook hands at this meeting, which was seen by others only in hazy silhouette. Yet the deity saw everything clearly.

To demonstrate their goodwill and friendship, the Arendellians built a mighty dam in the Enchanted Forest. They placed it on the river that flowed into the Arenfjord, the deep blue body of water upon which Arendelle Castle had been built. The dam connected all the lands and made it easier for the Northuldra and their reindeer to roam. King Runeard, the leader of Arendelle, offered it to the Northuldra as a symbol of peace and cooperation between the two groups. But the powerful spirit could see past his facade.

When the dam was complete, the Arendellians threw a great celebration. Northuldra from all over the land gathered at the base of the dam to mingle and feast with the Arendellians. The Fifth Spirit tried to warn the indigenous tribe about the trickery behind the kindness for months but no one listened -they were all busy welcoming and celebrating with the frenemies.

The poor spirit could see how it would all end and attempted to warn young Iduna. But it was too late -the battle had already begun.

Arendelle had turned out to be harmful once again. And as the lush beauty of her beloved forest was being destroyed, as the chaos continued beneath her, she cried, with her plangent call shaking the trees and crumbling the ground.

Her cry echoed as another voice synchronized with it -a pleading for help. Her eyes spotted Iduna holding a young boy in her embrace, as the girl called for help in agony. The Fifth Spirit, overcome with grief of centuries, wailed her eerie melody, mourning for her forest.

As well as for herself.

Her end was near and she was about to meet her tragic fate. She had failed to protect the Forest. She had failed to serve her cause -and the curse continued.

The Wind Spirit heard her call and took the children to safe ground. But it was the only one who listened.

Overcome with rage, the Fifth Spirit cried sorrowfully one last time before a mist, as thick and impenetrable as stone, enveloped the forest, as a promise she would forever guard it from foreigners. Then she disappeared, since people had stopped listening.

However, this was not her end. The Wind Spirit carried the remaining bits of her body to the devastated glacier that grieved over her lost daughter for days, in the meantime causing great parts of herself to collapse. The Water Spirit, overwhelmed with pain as well, told the river about the girl the Fifth Spirit was assigned to look after. Ahtohallan understood the importance of the young Northuldra's deed and finally let the soul of the deity find its new body, knowing she would not return the same.

The Fifth Spirit's soul travelled across the skies and on the Northern Lights above Arendelle it remained, looking after young Iduna, for she was destined to carry in her womb the reincarnation of the lost spirit.

And so, the spirits waited -waited for the Fifth Spirit to be reborn and return to where she belonged.

They waited for her to rise again.

#i know this wouldn't make any sense if it was canon #but well #here we are #i tried 😂#elsa #frozen 2 #frozen headcanons #fifth spirit #my writing

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highpriestessofjogan · 3 years

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Every once in a while I’m not in the mood to write fiction...

Sometimes I like to do literary analysis for funsies, or, surprisingly enough thanks to the content of this post, music analysis as well.

When I first watched Guardian, there was one song that stood out to me more than most of the others from the OST. It was always used in the scenes with more emotional weight, and was so haunting that it lingered in my mind long after the scene had passed. Once I was able to hunt the soundtrack down on Amazon (a feat that was much more difficult than it should have been imho) I came to learn that this song was actually Shen Wei’s theme. Shen Wei’s theme was in all of the emotionally hard hitting scenes and haunted me for long after the show had finished.

One day I was driving to work and I was just looping it over and over for my entire commute. It’s an hour long commute ya’ll. Just that song, over and over and over (and I’ve played it for several hours on a loop before and I have no doubt I will do it for many more times to come, this song is beautiful and haunting and I love it to death). As I listened I started to make some realizations, and as those realizations came to light it left me even more heartbroken than originally.

The Shen Wei OST is a perfect character journey. It tells his story in a way that words simply could not come close to. I’ve tried to sum up my best analysis of this song and what it means, and I’m sure I don’t even come close to what Luo Kun intended when he composed the song, but I hope that he would at least agree I have parts of it right.

I’m going to put the actual analysis beneath a “Read More” so please, drop me a line if you like what you read or if you want to discuss it further. I’d love to chat about this! It’s broken up into five distinct movements that I think relate to different points in Shen Wei’s life, and I should mention that this is looking at the character purely from the perspective of the drama. At some point I might go back and see if I can tie it into the novel at all, but that has not been taken into consideration here.

I’d like to state above the cut that my thanks go out to @elvencantation and @eirenical for looking over my initial drafts and giving me their opinions and helping with musical instrument identification. I might come back and clean this up someday, but for right now, I wanted to get something out there for everyone to read. I hope that you enjoy it.

Part I. Gege (0:00 - 0:35)

There is a very melancholy feel to the song, but it also has the quiet grace and strength that the audience can always associate with Shen Wei. This is the beginning of his journey though. This is a young boy caring for his brother. A boy who tries to protect and is cast aside, thrown down to the dirt, and returns too late to save the one remaining person still precious to him. The beginning of this song paints the picture of a solitary figure against the horizon, short in stature from age and inexperience, a blade much too big gripped in too small a hand. The piano solo here emphasizes his lone search for his brother and hoping against all hopes that he might one day find him and the two of them could be reunited.

Part II. Xiao Wei (0:36 - 1:08)

At 37 seconds in the strings make their entrance. I like to think it was a deliberate choice to have Zhao Yunlan pick up the violin during the Tan Xiao and Zheng Yi case, because I firmly believe the strings in this soundtrack are supposed to represent Zhao Yunlan just as the piano represents Shen Wei. These 32 seconds represent the Shen Wei that we see during episodes 34 and 35 in Ye Olde Haixing Era. A bright eyed energetic young warrior who cares about his men despite his position. He hides his fear behind a mask, under a hood, and does what he can to help in the war. But here is also when Kunlun arrives. A famous general who miraculously takes an interest in HIM. And what has he done to warrant such attention? The kindness that he is shown here helps to shape him, mold him into a stronger warrior, a stronger person, but it will be millennia before he will learn why Kunlun saw him for the person he was rather than the blade and power he wielded.

The strings here do not try to overwhelm the piano here, even though they easily could. Instead they seem to try to entwine with the notes from the piano and guide them. It’s a graceful dance between the two that represents the close partnership that Shen Wei and Kunlun shared during the war.

Part III. The Black Cloak Envoy (1:09 - 1:39)

This part of the song is particularly interesting to me. The piano is still present, but the tune has changed, the same for the strings, but now the sounds of a woodwind have joined the other two. It’s at this point Shen Wei has woken up after 10,000 years. He’s thrust into a new world that he must learn, and a Dixing that is far worse off than he ever imagined it would be. He is a legend, but he does not try to take power. His duty is still his to fulfill, but he does not seek to take power aside from that. This is the new life that he forges for himself, from who he was as a boy, to who Kunlun helped him become, but this is something he creates to survive in a world that is unfamiliar to him.

Now he is not needed as just a blade, although he will be that when it is necessary. Now he can pursue his love and inherent gift for learning. This is the man who emerges from the ground and takes up bioengineering as a field of study. This is the person who befriends Cheng Xinyan and probably has more than one or two study sessions with her. This is the college student that I’m sure was dragged to at least one karaoke night to blow off some steam, and may have discovered his aversion to alcohol that same night. This is someone who lived.

Part IV. Professor Shen (1:40 - 2:11)

The woodwind fades out and we are left with the string and the piano once more. The string though is more like the tide, pushing and pulling against the piano, but that is very fitting for the section of the song, and Shen Wei’s life, that Zhao Yunlan is introduced into. The strings surge forth and ease back, pushing Shen Wei for answers, but also easing back when he seems ready to break. The piano has returned to its tune from the first two movements, and it’s probably due to the uncertainty that Zhao Yunlan has brought into his life. Why has Kunlun suddenly reappeared and why is he acting like he doesn’t know who Shen Wei is? Why does Da Qing not remember him? In the face of these questions he retreats to who he was before, until he can determine what the best course of action to take is. If Kunlun is testing him or doesn’t remember too he doesn’t want to risk the chance that the man will not recognize him. This could be why we see the fond smiles and confused blinks, aspects that are so inherent to his character.

Part V. Shen Wei (2:12 - End)

I’m not going to lie, it was coming up with this part that really broke my heart. The strings remain, but fade to the background and are only faintly known. The piano has returned, and is at the forefront once more with no question as to who the lead is. Through all the changes in his life, he has come to realize who he truly is. He is a brother who is afraid he has failed his twin. A warrior and leader afraid he has failed his people. A man afraid that he will lose everything, but willing to make that sacrifice to save his friends and family, to keep the man he loves safe. He is no longer just a blade to be used. He has a purpose, one that has not been forced on him but that he has chosen for himself.

This is the Shen Wei who decides to use the light energy from Zhao Yunlan to make himself a living bomb. The man who decides that if his brother cannot be made to stand down then he will force him to. This is the man who looks into the eyes of his lover as he lays bloodied and broken on the ground, who sees all that they could have had in their lives, and silently begs forgiveness even as he makes the ultimate sacrifice.

And then the song fades out with the slowing piano notes, just as Shen Wei’s life ends with the slowed beating of his heart...

#guardian #zhen hun #镇魂 guardian #shen wei #zhao yunlan #kunlun #weilan #black cloak envoy #hei pao shi #caitlin analyzes stuff and things #caitlin also makes herself sad doing it #caitlin makes great life choices

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

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Ashes Chapter 7: The Sea

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

With time comes understanding, to a point. At the very least comes understanding. You have some revelations and in the ocean, you find some peace. Also- you are take the worst selfie ever.

A/N: This story had been heartbreaking to write, but also a ton of fun? There's a tiny little reprieve in this chapter and the next and then right back to sadsville! Thanks for reading. I appreciate you guys and would give you all hugs and smooches if I could and it wasn't a pandemic Lol. Did you know that USBs can disintegrate? So, you know, back up your work in more than one place.

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

You barely slept. Liu had come in a little while after you and hadn’t said a word though you had caught his eyes on you at least a dozen times. Neither of you had really slept, you supposed. Before sunrise you’d given up on sleep and got up. You cleaned up in the small washroom and then went outside to meditate.

The woods were peaceful.

The mountains were peaceful.

You were not. But you had time to reflect.

You tried to think about literally anything else besides the arguments with Liu Kang from the past two nights, but it was nearly impossible.

Wasn’t it unhealthy of you to even consider what Liu Kang was suggesting? Your long-term very serious relationship had just ended, and it had only ended because he had died. Then again, you weren’t sure what would have happened with Liu if he hadn’t put himself in a place of lesser significance than Kung Lao.

Because with reflection, you’d realized that was what he had done. And it was something that he had always done ever since you’d known him.

Kung Lao. Descendant of the Great Kung Lao. The Chosen One. A man who had been raised since his youth to embody the spirit of the champion who had saved Earthrealm many years ago. Liu Kang had put him on a pedestal. He’d been taught to.

He was just a filthy orphan. He’d even used those exact words to describe himself. Liu Kang was second place- even to himself. Then when Kung Lao had come to him regarding you, he’d done the same thing. Put himself in second place. He’d even said that he hadn’t deserved you.

Your meditation was ruined.

Dammit.

Why hadn’t you noticed before? If he had just told you any part of the truth all those years ago, then you would have grabbed his shoulders, shaken him, and told him he was just as worthy of love and praise as Kung Lao was. But that wasn’t what he’d done. He’d chosen to put a wedge between you.

“The past is just that.” You had to remind yourself. You couldn’t go back in time and erase what had happened. There was no way to know what would have become of you if you had pushed Liu Kang a little further than you had back then. It had been so unlike him to behave that way but you’d also been terrified that he would say exactly what he’d said. He’d fulfilled your self-doubt and fears without realizing.

It had broken you. You hadn’t had it in you to push him.

You’d instead agreed to go out with Kung Lao and that had started a wonderful relationship. But you had also started it when you’d been broken. It had taken time for you to open up to Kung Lao about anything, to be intimate with him, to connect and all because you had been broken up about Liu Kang. Kung Lao had been patient with you and you supposed that was because he had known that Liu Kang was stepping out of the way for him.

Hindsight was everything in this instance.

An unfamiliar energy joined you nearby, seated a few feet away from you. Nightwolf. He was calming. You sat in silence and watched as the sun rose beyond the trees, spreading its radiance over unfamiliar but still beautiful terrain. You cleared your mixed thoughts of Liu Kang, of Kung Lao, and of guilt.

You were there to work, not to sort out your baggage. Part of you considered that Raiden had sent you together to work out your baggage but who knew anymore? It didn’t matter. You quieted your brain and focused only on the sunrise.

Nightwolf had something to say. You could feel it but you would also allow him the time to find the words that suited him. You hoped it was soon. Silence was unkind.

Finally, he turned to you.

Thank god. If he talked then your brain would stop filling the silence.

“I’ve decided meet your Lord Raiden at your request.”

“Really?” You made no effort to hide your surprise. Honestly, you and Liu were making all the wrong impressions on people lately so you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d said no or needed more time. If that had been the case then Liu Kang would have… you stopped your thought. You had no idea what Liu Kang would have done. He wasn’t himself those past few weeks.

It stung to think that.

You wanted him to be okay. You wanted him to be okay more than you wanted yourself to be okay. If you had to suffer every day in grief for the rest of your life for him to be okay, then you would have. So much for your brain shutting up.

“Like you said last night, it’s the right thing to do. I don’t wish to leave my home but if doing so means protecting it? Then it’s worth it.”

“Thank you.” You breathed a sigh of relief. He was so reasonable and kind. You hoped that you got to know him a bit better when you got back to China. He seemed like a good guy. At least this one thing had gone right, though you were certain that it was because Nightwolf was a good man and not because you and Liu had done an exceptionally good job of convincing him. You’d spent time with him, of course, but your collective energy was a total mess. “Do you need time to make arrangements for your home?” Honestly, you were ready to leave right now. Then you could head to Hollywood.

Maybe Liu wouldn’t come with you and you could have some space and time to think. Then again, you were now incredibly concerned about Liu Kang and wanted to make sure that he was okay. Your handling of the arguments had been poor, at best. It was difficult to be kind to yourself and remind yourself that you were struggling too.

“I packed all that I should need.” He smiled as if reading your thoughts and you nodded.

“Thank you, Nightwolf.”

“The decision was an easy one when I thought about it. What was the alternative, really? To ignore the truth? Live life knowing that I could have done something great for my people? For our world?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” You drifted off with a smile and watched the sun as it settled just amongst the trees. Perhaps today would be a good day.

“Just say the word and we can head on our way. The hike will take us another three days and…”

“Yeah, about that.” You explained briefly that you would be summoned to Raiden’s Temple and that you didn’t have to worry about typical means of travel. It was difficult to explain why you had hiked to see him but wouldn’t be hiking back. Raiden could have very well done many of the things you’d done himself but the reasons he didn’t were his own. You could guess but your brain was exhausted by speculation right now and there was no point.

Liu Kang joined you partway through your explanation and sat politely after greeting you both. He was more like himself that morning and you were glad for that. He didn’t jump down anyone’s throat or interrupt you even once. He even offered you a soft smile and gave words of gratitude to Nightwolf. You left them to gather your things and soon enough, you were having breakfast and then going on your way.

Back outside, Liu Kang stood before you and with a flourish of fire that startled Nightwolf he prayed for safe passage. A crack of lightning burst blindingly before you, offering you passage through.

“You can stay for the moment if you like.” Liu placed a gentle hand on your forearm and then escorted an impressed and surprised Nightwolf into the lightning. You were surprised that he hadn’t hesitated to walk into it. Your first time had been Liu Kang practically carrying you through it while you rattled off the reasons it was a terrible and impractical means of travel.

“Good luck.” You bowed politely to Nightwolf who wished you well. They disappeared into the bolt of lightning, leaving you alone again with only your thoughts to keep you company. God, you were tired of your thoughts. They were exhausting. You wished you could have a break from your brain.

The woods were still and silent minus the wind rustling through the trees. You sat atop one of the logs surrounding the abandoned firepit and considered that it felt lonely there without Nightwolf’s presence. You hoped that whatever came next regarding Outworld and Mortal Kombat, that he would be okay. He was a good man.

Lightning struck behind you and you half-expected Raiden to be the one to greet you but instead it was Liu Kang. He walked to join you after the lightning had disappeared and sat next to you. The tension was instantly awkward and nervous between you. You had so many things that you wanted to say to him, to ask him, but you said none of them.

Liu Kang was a wonderful man.

A good man. A brilliant and studious disciple. A skilled and dazzling warrior. An excellent listener. A good friend. A tremendous lover. And still he seemed to think that his place was in the service of others. Another outstanding trait, except that it meant he thought he was worthy of very little. Then he’d finally thought of himself enough to tell you truths that he’d hidden and you’d panicked.

Worse than that? You were too exhausted to say any of that to him. You expected it to be a fight if you did.

It appeared that Liu Kang was exhausted too. When you caught his face in the morning sun, you could see his weariness and the depths of thought behind his dark eyes. He turned as if feeling you studying him and you locked eyes briefly before both turning away. There were volumes left unsaid between you but you took his hand without thinking and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

You would be okay.

One way or another, you would be okay.

Time was what you needed. But you also thought that was what you’d needed with Kung Lao too and then that time had been stolen from you. You didn’t want that to happen again either but you didn’t know how to fix what had broken with Liu Kang. You wanted to fix it so badly but you didn’t even know what fixing it meant.

You only knew that you wanted him to be okay.

He squeezed your hand in return before letting go and standing. You joined him, urging your bag onto your back. “To Hollywood?” Your voice felt dusty, creaky, like a door that hadn’t been opened in eons. Only minutes had passed but it was enough time for the mood to have shifted.

“Yes.” Liu bowed his head but avoided your eyes. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Nightwolf was okay without us being there?”

“Yes. You were right. He made the right choice for the right reasons. I should have given him the time and explanation he deserved.” He walked away from you and you watched him go. “I didn’t want to go to Hollywood. I asked Raiden just to send you.”

Oh.

That was fair, you supposed.

It hurt for a second before you could picture him in your head telling Raiden that he didn’t want to hurt you anymore so he would stay behind. Falling on his sword again and again to protect the interests of everyone but himself.

“He insisted?”

“Yes. Apparently, this actor is a handful.”

“Didn’t think I could do it alone? Jax and Sonya are already there.”

“And Cole.”

Ah, yes. The man that Kung Lao had died to protect. You hadn’t met him in person yet. He’d rallied your friends when they had needed it and had saved Liu Kang from his grief. You dreaded seeing them. Seeing new people meant that they would walk on eggshells around you. They would ask you how you were coping. You’d have to explain for the millionth time that grief was something you learned to live alongside rather than overcame. Then the tremendous guilt that came with the attention of it all. Liu Kang had lost his brother. You were sure that he was going through something similar but people seemed to act more sympathetically toward you.

“You ready?” You didn’t know what else to ask. He didn’t want to be there and whether the reason was you, the others, or just disliking California, you felt awkward. You wanted him to have his space and to grieve the way he needed to. That was all you wanted. But Raiden, apparently, had other ideas.

You admired the sunny sky one last time before you joined him as he summoned the lightning that would take you across the country.

You arrived on the beach.

You could hear people chattering in the distance. It was amazing that no one had seen you. You supposed that Raiden was a god and knew where to put you but the whole thing still dazzled you. Years of traveling by his hand and you had never once gotten used to it. You hoped that it always surprised you.

Liu walked toward the water instead of toward the road on the other side. You were still a bit away from Hollywood and you didn’t know where you were going. You assumed that Raiden had told Liu but you also imagined that where you were headed wasn’t toward the water. There was nothing there but dark ocean under gray skies.

You watched as he made his way down the wooden steps of the boardwalk and onto the beach and then hung your head back toward the sky and prayed. You prayed for peace for Liu Kang, prayed for the patience to get through whatever came after your last horrible confrontation. He’d said you’d owed it to yourselves to figure it out. Figure whatout? If you still had feelings for him? It was clear that he did for you and the very thought gave you goosebumps that you had to mentally work to shake off before following him into the sand. You took off your shoes and followed him.

The sand was warm between your toes despite the overcast skies and chilly breeze. Pulling the smartphone from your pocket, you took a picture of Liu Kang standing just before the water line in the sand where the waves were currently lapping at low tide. He was beautiful and so you turned away and put the phone back in your pocket. You were grateful now for the camera in the phone. That was one thing that you regretted not having over the years.

How many pictures did you have of Kung Lao?

One.

From your first date. He’d asked someone on the street after dinner to take a photo for you on a throwaway camera you’d bought on a whim during your previous trip. Most of those photos had been of random things that had made you laugh, sites you’d visited, or important things that you’d had to show Raiden but couldn’t bring with you. Except for the one photograph from your date, that was.

You wouldn’t let that happen again. Even if you and Liu were in a complex place, you wanted pictures of him. Of you together. You decided to steal another one and as you were admiring it on the screen, Liu Kang joined you at your side. You fumbled with the phone, dropped it in the sand, and before you picked it up, Liu was doing it for you.

He dusted off the screen and handed it back to you. He didn’t ask you why you’d been admiring a photo of him, but you swore you caught just the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. “I missed the ocean.” He gestured toward the water. “Didn’t mean to sidetrack us.”

“Do you think Raiden would be furious with us if we just… sat on the beach all day?”

“Maybe. Are you going to tell him if we did?”

“…only if I’m mad at you.” You smiled and he shook his head before turning his gaze back toward the water. He’d earned the shore. The waves. Even just for putting up with you the night before.

Liu Kang sat in the sand, legs folded. You sat next to him, careful to make sure there was a little distance between you. Maybe you could be at peace next to each other if neither one of you opened your mouths. You took a picture of the ocean.

He watched you curiously as if to silently ask why you were suddenly taking so many pictures. So much for not talking. You just hoped that you didn’t end up screaming at each other on the beach. This place was peaceful and you so rarely had peace. You were sure that soon enough you would be amidst chaos. You had earned this moment.

“I didn’t have any pictures of Kung Lao.” You explained when he didn’t let it go. He nodded as if to understand but you saw his brow furrow, as though he wondered whether or not he had any pictures of him either. “I have one, I guess. But it’s old and poorly shot and I… I don’t want to forget his face. I don’t want to forget anyone’s faces. You enjoyed the ocean so much just now and now… now I have that picture forever.” You’d said too much which was just like you.

“Can I see?” He held his hand out for the phone and you offered it reluctantly. What if he deleted them? Maybe he didn’t want pictures of him. It was a silly thing, but you had been desperate to see Kung Lao’s face one more time and all you’d had was one blurry picture where you’d gone on your first date and your damn heart had been broken after Liu Kang so you hadn’t even looked happy in the picture. Kung Lao, however, had looked incredibly happy, even if his face had been blurry.

Kung Lao was rarely the type to sit still, especially when you were out and about in the world. The picture was an accurate portrayal of him at the time.

“You look sad.” Liu Kang handed the phone back to you and much to your surprise, he’d taken a picture of you. You definitely did look sad. You hadn’t meant to wear your heart so obviously on your sleeve. “I don’t want to forget your face either, Y/N.” In a gut reaction, you covered your mouth and stared back at the water and felt your eyes burn with tears. They were threatening to turn into sobs but you refused to cry. You were sure that you looked ridiculous, contorted, and trying to hold back tears. “I don’t want you to look sad.”

It took you a solid few minutes to keep yourself from just bursting into tears. “Well, I’m sad.” You decided there was no point in lying when you’d been broken up about it so obviously. “But so are you. Maybe it’s okay to have pictures where we look sad.”

“Maybe.” He scooted closer to you in the sand. “Take a picture with me.”

“Why? To have proof of how miserable we’ve made each other in the last week?” You turned the camera around on the phone after struggling to figure out the buttons.

“What? You don’t want to relive us screaming at each other every time you look at it?” His smile was weary.

“Already reliving it pretty consistently without photographic proof, Liu.”

“We should talk.”

“I know.”

“I’m afraid of what you’ll say.”

“Yeah, that scares me too.”

“What you’ll say? Or what I’ll say because I feel like we’re doing a lot of talking without thinking lately which is unlike both of us.”

“I have always had a hard time with that. You maybe think too much before you talk.” You tried to lighten the mood and he at least laughed a little, even if it was just beneath his breath. You adjusted the camera and Liu carefully took it from your hand before aiming the screen toward you both.

“…how do I do this?” He tried to adjust his hand so he could take the picture while he held it and so you reached to do so instead and took the least flattering picture that either one of you had ever taken. “Try that again.”

“That isn’t how you want to remember us?” You pointed to the little preview in the bottom corner of the screen.

“Not at all.”

You were terrible with technology, it turned out, but together you figured it out and took a nicer picture. “…we both look sad.” You sighed and put the phone back into your pocket, pulling your jacket tighter around your shoulders. The ocean breeze was surprisingly chilled. He nodded to agree and you watched him for longer than you should have. Even sad, he was handsome.

Even when he’d been fighting with you the night before, he’d accused you of thinking more about the memory of Kung Lao than your own feelings. But your feelings had been terrified of him and you had run and hid instead of confronting him. Hadn’t that been selfish? A thing he had not accused you of being. Your heart hurt.

He was right. You should talk. You hadto talk. Even if you locked yourselves in a room and screamed at each other until you broke or talked it out calmly, you had to find a way. But you weren’t ready to. For now, the sound of the waves breaking onto shore were soothing mixed with the sounds of families out for a stormy day on the beach. There was plenty of chaos to come, but for now, you sat side by side in relative peace.

Peace was a strong word.

You sat together troubled and sad but without judgment. You suffered separately but together.

Next Chapter >>

#liu kang x reader #self insert #reader insert #liu kang #mk liu kang #mortal kombat movie #mortal kombat 2021 #ludi lin #liu kang/reader #liu kang x you #liu kang/you #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #romance #death #tension #grief #beauty through ash

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kylorengarbagedump · 4 years

Text

Not a Scratch (NSFW)

Read on AO3.

Summary: You knew he would come back. You knew. So you kept the crystal around your neck. A pendant. A reminder. It was why you weren’t surprised when the call came in over the transceiver--garbled and urgent, but intelligible:

“This is Rey. I have Ben. We’re on our way back--need medics on ready!”

It hadn’t mattered, the 8 years of distance, of longing, of memory. Ben Solo was back.

Words: 6800 (fucking... why)

Warnings: Just a lot of feelings.

Characters: Ben Solo/Kylo RenxReader

A/N: A long overdue gift for one of my closest, enduring friends, @faestae. There are few words I can say that illustrate what our friendship has meant to me, so I hope that this, a try-hard attempt at a love letter, says enough.

That being said, I desperately needed to save Ben Solo, as I've needed to do since 2015. So, here's the actual canon ending to TROS--isn't it weird how that works?

I hope that y'all enjoyed this. I really enjoyed writing Ben's conflict and confusion. I love him, no matter his name. And I love y'all, too. Thank you! <3

“Promise me.”

Ben Solo’s hands cover the kyber crystal in yours as a plea, his eyes clouded with restrained terror. His bottom lip, pillowy and pink, quivers, and he shakes his head, anxiety rolling from him in waves. Weaving your fingers through his own, you tug him close, seeking out his gaze. He avoids you, jaw straining.

“It’s going to be okay, Ben.”

“How do you know that?” he replies. “You don’t understand. I’ve heard what they say.” Tension builds again in his shoulders, and like a dog, he wags it away. “Promise me you won’t wait for me.”

“Your family loves you,” you say, and he stands, ripping his grip from yours. You follow, reaching for his arm. “Nothing is going to happen. It’s going to be okay!”

“Stop saying that!” he snaps, fire flickering in his pupils. He’s heaving, his sight glossy. You always forget how massive he is. He holds you in his stare, chest filling with air. There’s a pause--you think he might apologize--but he turns away, releasing a sigh. “Go. Go home. Forget about me.”

Heart cracking, you fold your arms. Your throat is tight. “You know I could never do that.”

“Well,” he says, “start trying.” He stands there a moment, mind churning with something you’re not sure you want to know. “Go.”

“Ben--”

Ben murmurs your name. It’s disarming. “Please.”

Chewing your lip to keep it from trembling, you leave, gripping the crystal. You don’t look back.

The memory was worn from use, now, muddled in places, exact details blurred to approximations, sentences rounded to paraphrases. Sleepless nights, you would caress its frayed edges, holding it like gauze over the wound in your heart, waiting for the ache to cease--yet each morning, like stitches popping, the wound would bleed anew, redder with each reminder of his presence.

If you had been smart, you would have made that promise and kept it. If you had been smart, you would have stayed away from the Resistance and Leia Organa. If you had been smart, you would have done as he had asked--banished his existence to a corner of your brain where recollections went to rot, let it wither into decay.

But you’d done none of those things. Desperate to keep a connection, you’d maintained a relationship with his mother, in the hopes that one day, he’d come back to you, that you’d prove to him that you hadn’t been foolish to wait for him as he’d believed.

Then came the news of the Jedi Academy.

Then came the news of Kylo Ren.

You followed Leia Organa into war. You became a part of the Resistance. You were one of the few breathing members left. And even as you witnessed him crumble the movement to its knees, you shielded that memory from bitterness, clutching at its most poignant wrinkles, coiled around the strongest, clearest tether to that night.

The kyber crystal.

No matter how desperate with hatred Ben had become, that tether grounded you to what you knew of Ben Solo--a boy on the precipice of his manhood, a boy consumed with expectations and swallowed like sunlight by the black, wretched shadow of fear. It had chased him, you knew, for years. Even after it had snagged him with its claws, drawn him deep into the mire of resignation, you nurtured a seedling of hope, sustained almost entirely on the nourishment of the feeling of the crystal in your hands.

You knew he would come back. You knew. So you kept the crystal around your neck. A pendant. A reminder.

It was why you weren’t surprised when the call came in over the transceiver--garbled and urgent, but intelligible:

“This is Rey. I have Ben. We’re on our way back--need medics on ready!”

Scrambling, you charged into action, shouting out to your comrades, “Hey! Rey’s coming back! Injured parties on board!” You careened through the base, calling out to whoever would listen, leaping over supplies, tripping over wires, tumbling into groups trying to sneak a meal. “Injured parties en route! All medics on deck! Rey’s coming!”

Your blood flew through your veins at lightspeed, the possibilities spinning like roulette in your mind. Ben was coming back--Ben. Not Kylo Ren, but Ben Solo, your Ben, and you would be able to see him, touch him, hold him again after 8 long, awful years. Your hidden memory burbled to life with renewed color--you could see the line of his nose, the waves of his hair, the breadth of his shoulders as if they were in front of you, now.

The excitement was tempered by the realization of Rey’s request--medics. Fear and joy fought for dominance when you pictured his body torn with wounds, soaked with blood, heavy with pain. Breath shuddering in your lungs, you searched for a place to sit, to wait. Your desire was to be the first to see him off the ship, to leap into his arms, to grasp at his face and smother it with your affection. But you knew that this was his mother’s place, not yours. If Ben was gravely injured, then to try to be with him would only complicate the issue. This was to say nothing about the impact of his choices--what everyone else on the base might think.

An interesting man you’d chosen to love.

Despite your resolve to sequester yourself in your tent during his arrival, the noise of Rey’s ship landing was too difficult to resist. You poked out your head, watching a swarm of Resistance fighters surround the vessel. The reality of his arrival sent your heart into your throat, hands fidgeting as you scanned every new movement for evidence of his presence, willing your eyes to believe what they were about to see. The hatch opened, and out stepped Rey--bloody, dirty, but still bearing a gleaming grin. She fell into the arms of her cheering friends, and you grew more impatient, craning your neck to see him appear behind her.

Silence cast over the celebratory din before you saw him, as if his presence destroyed the idea of joy on base--his hair was long and dark, curls blown out from sweat. He looked even larger than you had remembered, his wide frame padded with the muscle of an experienced warrior, and his face… It was just as beautiful as you remembered--full lips under hazel eyes, a long nose--but so tired. And nervous.

The urge rose to call out to him.

“Ben…”

You clamped your hand over your mouth, horrified--until you realized it hadn’t been you who had spoken.

The crowd parted for Leia Organa as she strode to the front, meeting her son at the threshold, where he stood transfixed, an effigy crafted from terror. Your tongue dried when you observed Ben take one step forward, and another, before crumbling to his knees, face buried in his fists, shoulders swelling with emotion you were too far to hear. Leia crossed to her son, pressing his head to her chest, stroking his hair. Quiet words passed her lips, and his body wracked, trembling in her embrace.

Pulse pounding, you retreated to your tent. Quakes rumbled through you, your palms slick with perspiration, breath rattling as if your ribs had come loose. Thoughts raced through your mind faster than you could identify them, tears welling and slipping over your cheeks. You laughed, despite yourself, grinding the heels of your palms into your eyes. The moment you’d spent the past 8 years preparing for had arrived--and you couldn’t even bring yourself to see him. Being a spectator to his icy reception, his collapse into his mother’s arms, had been more sobering than you’d anticipated. You realized that after all he’d been through, who was to say he’d even still care about you?

Who was to say he even remembered your name?

The mask you’d so carefully carved over the past near-decade shattered, and you sobbed, a long, broken gasp of air pulled into your lungs. It was cold in your throat, pins poking you from the inside as you wept, years of denial wilting, parting for torrents of doubt. Your last conversation with Ben had ended with him begging for you to forget him--he’d gone on to renounce his name, become Supreme Leader of the First Order. He’d murdered his own father. How, after any of this, could you think his mind hadn’t oh-so-ceremoniously murdered you, too?

Whining, you fell into your bed and tugged a blanket over your shoulders, concealing your necklace with a fist, as if you could will it to disappear. You’d been stupid, so stupid. You’d loved Ben, but the man that exited that ship was not the same Ben you’d loved. And he might not ever be. A chill settled over your stomach while you pulled the cover tighter, like it was a barrier protecting you from reality, like you could stave off falling into a canyon of despair.

You remained there, the crushing awakening of foolishness ceding to an empty rot, eyes boring through the far flap of your tent. Outside, restless chattering bloomed as time moved forward, groups of your relieved comrades downing spirits for the first time in what seemed like millenia. Raucous peals of laughter erupted from positions near and far, a group in the distance taking to singing after a few hours of drinks had passed. You heard it all, trapped in your fetal position, cursing yourself for your ignorance.

At least you had the manners not to invite anyone to your pity party.

Daylight dimmed, and your legs grew restless, your chest bubbling with anxiety. You sighed, rolling out of your bed, dragging your fingers over your face. It felt swollen, tight, your cheeks sticky with the remnants of your tears. As much as you wanted it, to remain like a statue in the tent, an observer to the victory of the Resistance, would be impossible. You’d fought for this, too--to hide out of, what, embarrassment? Shame? It didn’t seem right. At some point, you would have to face him. Might as well get it over with now.

It was likely Ben had been taken to the medic tent, but you couldn’t imagine where he’d gone after that, if he had been all right. Maybe he’d gone to stay with his mother. Quelling the tremor in your lungs with a deep breath, you trudged out into the camp, wandering along to Leia Organa’s tent. Gaggles of Resistance members cheered with raised spirits when you passed, but your brain was numb to their joy, still shackled to the memory of Ben Solo. Freedom hadn’t been awarded to you, yet.

Celebration on base had reached a loud, rolling plateau, and as you moved deeper into base, you spotted unfamiliar ships littered across the landscape, the doors open, the lights on. News was spreading, apparently, and everyone was invited to the party. Another claw of anxiety tugged at your heart--perhaps Leia and Ben would be too flocked with visitors to entertain you. Perhaps you’d arrive and appear even more foolish than you’d felt when you’d seen him walk off the ship. Perhaps there were dozens of people he’d wanted to see, names foreign and unknown to you, and perhaps you should’ve just stayed in your tent like you’d had the inclination to do instead of getting up and walking through this fucking crowd to get to another fucking crowd and--

Leia’s tent was marked by two lanterns outside the entrance--but not a soul in sight outside its boundaries. In fact, it looked as if there’d been a deliberate effort to leave a radius of empty space around her encampment, like an invisible barricade of solitude had been erected. In the cacophony, Leia Organa’s space was unblemished refuge, an oasis of peace that you desperately craved. Yet it stalled you--to break this unofficial blessing seemed wrong. You didn’t want to be the weird girl hanging outside the General’s tent. But the crystal was heavy around your neck. Weirdness be damned.

You crept through the encroaching shadows, hoping to avoid curious eyes while you drew closer to the entrance flap. Before you could push it open, your ears caught the rumbled hush of speech, and your pulse quickened. It was wrong to eavesdrop. And yet…

“It will take time. You knew that when you stepped off that ship.”

That was Leia’s voice--soft, warm. A long pause hung in the air.

“I don’t know why I did. They’re right to hate me.” The next words were pushed between teeth. “I am a monster.”

Your stomach constricted, a punch to your gut. Ben. Hearing him speak had you doubled over, sweat staining your neck, muscles locked in shock. Now, even if you’d wanted to move, you couldn’t.

“I know my son,” Leia said. “And he is no monster.”

“Your son murdered his own father.”

“I know.”

“Your husband.”

“I know.”

“Then how can you…” A hitch of breath, a crackle of noise, like a cry caught in his throat. “How can I…”

Rustling inside the tent, the sound of stifled sobs. Shushing. “This won’t be easy, Ben. It won’t. But you’ve made it this far.” More rustling. “And you’re not alone.”

A snort of dismissal. “Aren’t I?”

“You’re not,” Leia said. “And I won’t let you think you are. You have me. Rey.” She didn’t say your name. Your heart thumped. “The first steps of any journey are the most difficult.”

There was a long, resigned sigh. A stuttered breath. Another pause. “Yes,” Ben croaked. “You’re right.” He sniffed, clearing his throat. “You’re right.”

“Aren’t I always?” said Leia. “Now come on. I haven’t seen you eat a thing.”

Shuffling inside the tent, and you choked on your own spit as your insides flipped. Leia hadn’t mentioned you. Maybe she already knew he didn’t remember you. Relief and horror flooded you at once, your fingers twisting around your necklace. More than anything, you wanted to rush into the tent, throw your arms around him, show him he truly wasn’t alone--but instead you stood there, a shell, paralyzed by what you’d heard.

It was true that he was not the same man you had loved. Before, when Ben had spoken, you’d felt his dread, his unease, it had gripped you with its claws. Now, even through his pain, you sensed resolve, a tide of confidence splashing in his mind.

“Do you…” It was Ben again, voice like a quiet ocean. “There was a girl. Before I left.” He sniffled again, and your lids widened. A girl. “I gave her a kyber crystal. Do you...” He sighed. Your breathing stopped, fist sheathing the crystal. “Do you know what happened to her?”

Leia spat out your name, incredulous. “Of course I know what happened to her. She’s here.”

Heat flashed through you. Your neck was drenched, for sure. You hoped against hope your armpits had been spared. Ben remembered you. He remembered.

“Here?”

“On base,” she said. “She joined the Resistance.”

You could hear the smile in her voice. Meanwhile, your throat was drier than the sands of Jakku. Given a few more minutes of this, your body might turn to sand, too--just disintegrate right there, a pile of dust at the perimeter of Leia’s tent. Silence settled for a moment.

“She’s here.” It was a statement of disbelief.

She chuckled. “Did you really think she would just forget you?”

“Mom…” Noise inside the tent again. “I…”

The tent flap opened, and you yelped, leaping back. There, light shimmering like an aura around his massive silhouette, stood Ben Solo.

Up close, he was even more beautiful. His dark, amber eyes were still wet, already full mouth swollen from weeping. He met your stare, jaw dropped. Air had been stolen from both of you, if the lack of breathing on either side was an indicator. Inside your ribs, something fluttered, and you hoped it wasn’t an oncoming heart attack--but if it was, you’d die happy. Ben’s gaze searched you, drawing over every centimeter of your figure, mapping you to the image in his memory, that, seeing him now, you’d known he’d kept. Just like you’d kept yours.

“Uhm…” Finally, you inhaled. “Hey.”

A long, slow breath spread in Ben’s chest. His eyes refused to leave yours. “Tell me where you’re staying.”

You swallowed. “What?”

He blinked, clearing his throat. “I--... No, sorry.” Looking over his shoulder, he shrugged, gesturing to you. “I’m going to--”

“Just get out of here, already!” Leia chided. You could hear the mirth in her tone.

Ben nodded, and you turned, leading him with quick strides to your own tent. He stayed on your heels, perhaps hoping that his attachment to you would serve as camouflage. It worked, mostly--between the waxing excitement in the camp, the setting of the sun, and the effort to hide your faces, only few lingering stares caught you escaping through the crowds with the former Kylo Ren.

It hadn’t mattered, the 8 years of distance, of longing, of memory. You felt Ben behind you now as if he’d never left, his presence fitting into the ache you’d dug your fingers into, wrenched open, kept gaping. In this moment of rediscovery, wordlessness filled the space between you, not out of emptiness, but out of fullness--too much, too many words; they coalesced into a fog that surrounded you, dizzied you, excited you. Ben Solo was back.

Ben Solo was back.

Lips pinched together, you peeled back the entrance to your tent, and he ducked in. Heat branded you, like he was fire, scorching you when you drew too near. Ben sat on your bed--afraid to burn, you took the chair across from him, feeling ten times tinier when you sank into the seat, shoulders curling over your torso, hands hiding between your knees. Both of you stared in silence.

His gaze was more intense than you remembered--there was an urgency within the depths of his irises, like a panther, crouched in the darkness, ready to pounce. His body was wound with that same urgency, coiled within him, even as he sat on your bed, looking entirely familiar. It was as if Ben was trapped beyond water’s surface, the death throes of Kylo Ren echoing across his skin, shattering his image with each ripple. Fingers biting your knees, you remembered to breathe.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said. “You…” His lips twitched. “It’s good. To see you.”

A sniffle escaped, the tears already welling. Internally, you cursed. Shouldn’t you be a little harder to impress? “I just…” You smiled, despite yourself. “I’m so glad you’re back, Ben.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s…” He met your stare, glanced away. “Yeah.”

You watched his attention wander across the floor of your room, drawn to the ceiling by the hosts of doodles, notes, Resistance memorabilia you’d pinned in artistic menageries, a feeble attempt to make it feel like home. You’d never been successful in that venture. No matter how many trinkets you’d collected over the years, nothing had done the trick to make your bed feel more familiar. Ben’s eyes rested on you again.

Nothing until now, anyway.

“You came to the Resistance.” His head tilted. “When?”

“Well…” Your expression tightened. “Not long after you, uh, told me to go home and forget about you.”

Ben huffed. “You were never very good at listening to me.”

You offered him a little shrug. “Isn’t that what you liked about me, Solo?”

He peered at you, a hint of intrigue at the corners of his eyes. “It is.” A pause while he considered you. “What do you know about what I’ve--”

“Everything,” you replied quickly. You knew it all, and wanted to discuss none of it. Not now. He was here, he was within your reach. You wanted to relish this moment. “I know all of it.”

A sigh left him. “All right,” he said. “You know all of it.”

“I do.” You raised your hands in submission. “And none of it scares me.”

“None of it.”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

His brow twitched. He looked to his feet, quiet.

For years, you’d imagined his return, pictured this moment in varied shades. In your daydreams, you’d always wrapped him up in an embrace, pulled him into a deep kiss, ran your fingers through his hair, like years hadn’t elapsed between the last time you’d even linked hands. That seemed wrong, now--but you didn’t want it to be. How bold you could be in your mind. You nearly slapped yourself in frustration. Almost a decade of pretending, and you were just going to sit and watch him guess how to talk to you? No. Hell no.

“Ben,” you said, “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much.”

He tensed, then relaxed in another long sigh. He whispered your name. “You’ve… To see you here…” A tiny smile twisted the corners of his mouth. “I’ve missed you, too.”

You smiled, wiping away more unbidden tears. Warmth glowed between you, now, cutting through like shears to the well-worn path that time had overgrown. Shifting, you inched forward in your chair.

“Are you okay?” You gestured toward him, waving your hand around. “I know they called for medics when you arrived.”

He cocked his head again, and sat up, wagging his shirt, as if to demonstrate he was free of serious injury. “I seem to be in one piece.”

You spied a hole in his shirt, and you frowned. “What’s that?”

Ben glanced at you, thoughtful. Then he dropped the shirt, and it fell against his body, framing a peep of his naked torso. “You’ve never seen a lightsaber wound before?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Rey stabbed me,” he said matter-of-factly, like this was what you’d expected him to blurt out. “It’s fine, though. She healed it.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry…” You shook your head. “What?”

“It still burns. It’s eating me from the inside.” A pause, Ben’s gaze leveling you with violent severity, your stomach sinking into your gut--and then he grinned. “I’m kidding.” He poked himself through the hole. “You never know what the Force is truly capable of until your own lightsaber is sticking out of your stomach.”

“Stars, Ben!” You smirked against your will, fighting the laugh that wanted to burst through. “You’re such an ass.”

He shrugged, a sly look still pulling at his face. “Really, it’s fine,” he said. “See for yourself.”

Raising a brow, you went to stand, anxiety strapping your limbs to the seat. “Oh, um, I don’t know,” you replied. “I mean, I don’t want to be rude.”

“It’s fine.” His voice was lower, harsher. “You could never be rude to me.”

Blush eked over your cheeks. “If you say so, Solo.”

You stood and crossed to him, breath shallow, and sat gingerly next to him, scanning his figure. Never had you imagined Ben could be even bigger than he’d been in your memories--yet here he was, looming over you without standing, crowding your bed and your clarity with equal effectiveness. You looked between his face and the hole in his top, and he nodded. Jaw clenched, you reached out and poked it.

Two thoughts flashed through your mind when your flesh connected. The first was surprise--he was right, the alleged wound was completely healed; there wasn’t even a scar. The second, almost immediately after, came paired with a rabid streak of desire. Holy--he’s… firm. Swallowing, you met his eyes. They were dark.

“Ben,” you breathed. “That’s… incredible.”

Your finger hadn’t left his torso. Staying linked to his stare, you shifted closer, pressing your entire hand against his abdomen, palm splaying over the wall of tight muscle, skimming it like water over rocks. When you met the hem of his top, your digits crept underneath, brushing across his skin. His stomach twitched, but his eyes remained trained on yours--breathing now optional. Electricity sparked at your fingertips, stealing your rationality, and you caressed him, tumbling into the warmth, the solid strength of his body, your blood racing, urging you to discover more. Your hand snaked up to his chest, grazing the smooth expanse of flesh, catching the hammering of his heart beneath his sternum, his hardened nipples, and back down, resting on his lean belly. He stiffened when your digits kissed the trail of hair that led lower. He was hot. Or you were hot. You couldn’t tell, anymore.

Ben’s chin quivered. “Not a scratch on me.”

“No…” You couldn’t stop staring at his fucking mouth. “Not a single one…”

Trapped in hesitation, both of your eyes locked again--and you saw it there, misty in his gaze, his ache, his desire, his agony--and you both snapped, crashing like gravity into the other.

Ben seized your face, his plush lips working over yours, forcing a groan from you when his fingers threaded through your hair. He cradled you, binding you to him, tugging your closer as his tongue slipped into your mouth, a moan following. You melted like wax in his grip, molding to him as if you’d been carved from his memory, one hand traveling along the lines of his abdomen, the other plunging into his own hair. The waves whispered like silk over your skin, and you shivered, mewling into him, your tongue swirling around his. Bolder, now, your hand skated across his frame to feel his powerful shoulders, and he tensed again, another moan leaving him.

Scraping your nails over his scalp, you eased closer, until your thighs touched, and in the motion, your palm drifted low, sweeping over the insistent, hard bulge in his pants. Ben gasped, folding over, lids wide with shock, cheeks flushed. You blinked, frozen, and he glanced at his erection, then at you. The knot in his throat bobbed.

“Ben...”

Exhaling, he nodded.

You reached down, working at his pants, monitoring the anticipation rising in his face. After a moment of rustling, it sprang free--long, thick, and heavy, just as you’d remembered. Lust flooded you, your thighs pressing together, your cunt throbbing while you stared. It had been years since you’d done this, and judging by his anxious lip-bite, it had been just as long for Ben, too. Throat tight, you held his gaze, ghosting the tips of your digits along his shaft.

He choked, cock bobbing with yearning--his lid twitched while he observed you observing him, his hands curling in and out of fists. A shaky breath exited your lungs, and you teased him again, toying your fingers along the head, smearing drops of his pre-cum, and back down, memorizing the tiny veins. Ben’s own breath quaked, lids fluttering, and your core thrummed again. You wrapped your hand around his dick, feeling how hard, how needy he was, and stroked him.

Like molasses, he collapsed, sinking into his seat, body yielding to the pleasure pulsating through his nerves. He watched you, jaw slack, as you pumped his cock, thumb collecting pre-cum and glazing his length with it. Breath rolled through him, steady, his legs spreading, fists finally unwinding, hands resting at his sides. Ben was hot--his heat ached in your fist, his pulse jumped through your digits, the heartbeat of his cock echoing to your pussy.

You jerked him faster, squeezing his shaft, and he shuddered with a moan, hips bucking to fuck into your grip. More pre-cum leaked from his tip, coating your hand, and you worked it along his dick, earning another moan, another tremble of pleasure. His eyes fought to stay on you. You twisted your wrist, changing pace, heart leaping when his head fell back, hair tumbling onto his brow.

“Fuck,” he murmured, “fuck…”

He was throbbing hard, now, writhing, breath coming faster, sweat glistening on his cheeks. Despite how badly you wanted to fuck him, you just as badly wanted to watch him cum, wanted to see him cover himself with his seed, wanted to watch him lose himself in the ecstasy only you could provide him.

Your name spilled from his mouth in a gasp, and he spasmed, snatching your wrist. His cock twitched in fury, ripped like thread from its release, and he sucked in a deep breath, pushing up on his palms and pulling you into another kiss. Humming in delight, you kissed him back, returning your hands to his hair--but he pulled them away, pinning them to your sides, growling as he dragged his teeth along your jaw.

Ben then busied himself with your clothes, nibbling lower, to your neck, while he peeled your jacket from your shoulders and tore your shirt toward your head. His touch was a match, embers exploding over your skin, stoking your appetite to strip for him. You wriggled free of your top, and Ben went to kiss you again, pausing when he saw the pendant around your neck, exposed now. Wonder glittered in his gaze, large fingers tilting it in fascination.

“You still have this.” He studied it, appraising each facet.

You nodded. “It’s never left my neck.”

He said nothing, rotating it between his thumb and forefinger. His level of focus brought fresh blood to your cheeks; you thought to move, but didn’t, suspended under his scrutiny. Longing, need, fervor, all paused as Ben wrestled with the concept of your devotion.

“I…” His stare fell, over your breasts, to your stomach, raking over your legs, and back up, greed growling behind his pupils. “I want you.”

You grinned. “You have me.” Your hand covered his as it fiddled with your crystal. “I... I want to keep this on.”

“Of course you do,” he replied, smirking. “No reason to break your streak, now.”

Giggling, you kissed him again--his hands slid behind your back, fussing with your bra before tossing it aside. He pawed at your exposed breasts, kneading the soft flesh, mouth falling to suckle at your throat. When you whimpered in pleasure, he groaned, easing you onto your back, thumbs flicking at your nipples before smoothing over your stomach and grappling with your bottoms. His hair tickled your jaw while he nipped at your neck, and you wrestled with his top, hands gliding over the strong planes of his back as you yanked it toward you. Ben grumbled, reluctant to release you, but seemed to agree that his clothing was impeding your mutual goal. His shirt came free, tossed aside, followed by your shoes and panties. The vulnerability made you squirm--not just yours, but his, too.

Ben’s body was even more perfect than you’d pictured when you’d traced it with your fingers. Every part of him was weaponized, down to the bits of exposed thigh you caught from his half-shucked pants. You swallowed, realizing the extent, the breadth of his power--how easily he could crush you, how effortlessly he’d done it to others--the vestiges of Kylo Ren evident in the taut landscape of his torso, the veins in his forearms, the cobwebs of white scars on his flesh.

But in his eyes, you saw only Ben Solo, a man possessed by your naked figure flushed with passion for him. Your pussy clenched--you became aware of how wet you were, and your face burned.

Silent, he guided a large hand up the side of your hip, his tender touch earning another throb of your cunt. Digits sketched around your nipples before he squeezed your tits again, reveling in your gratified response.

“You like that,” he murmured.

Nodding, your thighs ground together, the longing between your legs becoming too furious to silence. Ben smirked. Without a word, five fingers skimmed over your belly, brushing over your mound, and you cracked, moaning. In response, his dick pulsed, almost hitting his stomach with its demand. As if to invite him, you spread your legs, allowing him a full view of your wet, swollen pussy--and Ben’s breath hitched, hand gripping his length and jerking it slowly.

Being so close to him again was simultaneously familiar and bizarre, like you were getting intimate with a stranger who just happened to know all the quirks and triggers of your body, like a person you’d known only from your dreams had rolled into your bed, ready to enact your fantasies. But Ben Solo was not only real, he wasn’t a stranger. He was yours.

“Ben,” you breathed. “Please…”

Shushing you, he lowered himself on top of you, skin swathing skin, warmth encompassing you, and he guided his cock between your folds, slicking it on your juices before positioning himself at your core. You circled your arms around him, holding back tears when he pushed in, breaking you open with slow, gentle thrusts, his face falling into the crook of your neck, air sucking through his teeth. Muscles from your toes to your head vibrated with ecstasy, nerves singing with joy.

Ben groaned into you when he slipped fully into you, then pulling back out, relishing the drag of your walls on his throbbing length. Grunting, he wrapped you in an embrace, tugging you against him while he slid in again, a choked moan of disbelief caught in his throat. He kissed your neck once, then twice, hips pumping out and in, his pace powerful and gradual, as if he couldn’t help basking in the tight heat of your cunt. Tremors still quaked in your bones, and you wrapped your legs around him, needing him nearer, your lids closing, allowing the tears to slide down your hot cheeks.

He whispered your name in your ear, kissing your throat again, plunging steadily into you. “You feel so good,” he said, “so wet for me…”

If he was intent on liquifying you, it was working. Your limbs were gelatin, without motion, no purpose except to stay curled around this man. Ben’s cock fucked you open, sank deep into your pussy, his tempo quickening. You sniffled, nuzzling against him, content to stay like this forever, maybe die like this, if need be--you couldn’t ever remember feeling this whole, this safe. And as you thought it, another sniffle. But not from you. From Ben.

Whimpering, he rammed into you, speed erratic, like he was trying to drive his entire body into yours, pulling you into his chest, the kyber crystal cutting into your sternum. Your nails rasped across his back, clinging to him when he slid out. Another frantic thrust, and you squeaked, cunt clamping down on his dick, more tears spilling. He echoed you, silencing a sob in your neck, shuddering as he fucked you harder, faster.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned, “I’m so sorry…”

You hushed him, hands diving into his hair, fruitlessly trying to turn his face toward you. He was unyielding, wound around you like wire.

“I’m sorry I left,” he said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for all of it--”

“Ben, it’s okay--”

“It’s not!” He gasped, catching his breath, littering your throat and cheek with kisses. “I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve this--”

You squealed when he speared a spot deep inside you. “I forgive you,” you said, “it’s okay--”

“Stop saying that…” he mumbled. “You don’t--you don’t understand…”

“Shh…”

He had slowed by this point, long, languid thrusts pushing into you. “You don’t understand what I want,” he whispered. “I’m a monster.”

Your heart skipped. “You can tell me, Ben…”

Ben hid his nose in the crook of your neck, face wet, breath like smoke. He hadn’t stopped fucking you through his cries, only clutched you tighter, keeping you real in his hands.

“I want...” He sniffled. And then, into your ear, barely escaping his throat: “Let me choke you.”

It was so abrupt, you laughed. “What?” you said, more as a statement than a question. “Is that all?”

He trembled in your arms. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing his temple. “I know that, Ben,” you said. “I know you would never hurt me.”

He paused, seated inside of you, and pried himself from your shoulder, examining you in doubt. His chin still quivered.

“I mean it,” you said, pushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “I want all of you. Then, and now.” You kissed his nose. “I know Ben Solo. He is not a monster.”

The doubt fell from his face, followed by the anguish, the shame--and filtering in its place was pure, voracious hunger.

“You mean it.”

“I do,” you said. “I want it.”

He pushed up on his palms, hovering over you like a predator. Heart thrashing, you bit your lip, resisting the urge to clench around him. Before his fall, Ben had been passionate, desperate, even rough--but never like this. Never feral. Never animalistic. Never…

Leaning forward, he brushed his mouth over your ear.

“We’ll see how you feel when I’m done with you, princess.”

Never so hot.

Fire flooded your veins, and you whined, the noise cut by his hand pressing down on your throat, squeezing with enough pressure to make you gasp. He smirked, rocking his hips to remind you of the thick length still inside you.

“I’m going to make you cum hard on this cock,” he purred. “Is that what you want?”

You nodded, grasping at his wrist.

“Good…”

Ben growled, and slammed into you, forcing a wail from your lungs, silenced by the grip on your neck. He rammed you with his dick again, and again, jolting your bones, until he was pounding you, hips smacking into yours, a snarl of pleasure escaping him.

“You feel incredible,” he said. “There hasn’t been a day where I haven’t thought about fucking your little pussy…” He moved faster, throwing his head back in bliss. “Fuck, I’ve dreamed about cumming inside you…”

“Ben,” you wheezed, overwhelmed with lust. “Ben, please…”

He returned to your ear, nipping it. “You need to cum, princess?”

A deluge of lust, now, drenching you, drowning you. “Yes,” you squeaked out, “yes, please!”

Both hands crushed your throat, Ben’s eyes wild, his hair mussed, and he kept his pace, pumping deep into your slick, hot cunt with ease. His digits twitched--there it was, whirling around your clit, the Force, how you’d missed it--and you were flying, euphoria engulfing you, so fucking close, limbs jerking with pleasure, ready to cinch around his cock.

“Ben…” The pressure on your neck was snug. “Ben, fuck--”

“Fuck yes,” he hissed, spitting out your name, “fuck, yes--” He growled, the Force spinning like a buzzer around your nub, and you snapped, falling apart under him. “That’s right, cum--cum for me, princess…”

White rapture blinded you when you came, straining against the choke, pulsing and milking his cock. Ben squeezed your throat with his climax, keening as his orgasm ravaged him, his hips stuttering, dick spilling jets of cum inside your cunt. He fucked you through it, frenzied in his release, until it slowed, the only sounds left the sloppy noise of his final thrusts.

A low, long groan left him, and he released you, toppling at your side, chasing his breath. You rolled over, staring at him, trying to catch up with your lungs, too. A sheen of sweat encased you both, sticking your skin together, grazing like raw nerves--but you cared little. Next to you was the man you’d loved for almost a decade, the man for whom you’d waited through war, the man who had held your heart and kept it safe, even in the depths of his darkness.

“I love you, Ben,” you said, cupping his cheek. “All of you.”

Ben stared at the ceiling of your tent, chest still heaving. He said nothing, then glanced at your kyber crystal, fogged with sex. “I know.”

You chuckled, snuggling closer to him, and he wrapped an arm around you, pressing you flush against his frame. Lethargy hung on your lids, and you struggled to stay conscious, the murky noises of the Resistance’s victory celebration leaking into your tent. Seconds lingered into minutes, his eyes still fixed on the crystal, memorizing its reflections of your flesh. A wriggle of his fingers, and it rose from your neck, twisting in the air.

He laid there with your head nestled into his shoulder, twirling it with the Force. Back and forth, back and forth, a twinkling lullaby. Back and forth, back and forth, until, finally, you fell asleep.

#kylo ren smut #ben solo smut #kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #kylo ren imagine #ben solo imagine #kylo ren #ben solo #not a scratch #nerd whinings #fanfiction problems #another fix-it fic #because I'll never stop salting #EVER

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chaosrealm-mk-imagines · 4 years

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How would Fujin, Quan chi Shang tsung Kung lao and Kuai Liang purpose their s/o? 💍

Thats a good one! I hope you like it, thanks for the request!

Fujin

- Needed some time to understand about marriage and what it meant between mortals, he takes the idea very serious and will only propose if he truly wants to remain the rest of his times with his beloved. Fujin used to think that a god would never be allowed to have such joy, but he understood with time that he was the one who made his own choices and not some elders who didn’t even cared for mortals.

Fujin approaches slowly, he has asked his S/O in a date. They were at the place they first meet, his beloved thought it would be something special indeed but had no idea of what was coming. He stops in front of his loved one, holding their hands and looking at their eyes in a sincere passionate glaze. Fujin’s silence is broken by his soft words, they shaken a little at his clear nervous state but by no means stop being honest.

“I’ve been known you for time enough to be sure of this, there is no problem if you don’t want to...” He gets in his knees, still holding his S/O hands “Would you marry me?” His eyes are the ones of a puppy, with a frown and an evident fear of rejection at his sharp features, still he would accept a no for an answer, Fujin has all the time in the world for getting married.

Quan Chi

- Marriage is something that the Necromancer never thought to be possible for him, at Netherrealm such things are frowned upon and mocked by most of the demons as they torture lost souls. The idea of spending eternity with his loved one is indeed tempting, be he’s not sure if they would accept it.

Quan Chi is at the throne room, drinking from his skull chalice as he awaits his servants to bring his loved one to him. He asked his undeads to scout his S/O in safety to Netherrealm, making sure they were not mistreated. When they arrived with his dearest along, the necromancer couldn’t help but smile a lot at it as he dismissed his servants and raised from his seat. Quan Chi stepped down and walked in a slow and silent pace until reaching his S/O, offering them his hand.

“Darling, I’d like to propose to you.” He says with his evergloom voice, caressing the knuckles of their hand with his fingers as he looks them in the eyes “Eternity is a monotonous existence when alone, but with you every day would be perfect. Please, let me love you to death.” Quan Chi is a patient man, rejection is something he alredy expects and that makes him never be afraid to speak his mind.

Shang Tsung

- Being born and raised within Earthrealm customs had lead Shang Tsung to believe marriage as a fake idea, when he left to Outworld he almost forgot about how humankind was deluded with the idea of loving someone to death. He never thought that this idea would pass through his mind flooded by evil plans, but the soulstealer saw himself with a growing desire for proposing to his beloved.

The island was stunning then ever, the magic that raised the place seemed to be stronger. The flora was radiant, the sky bright and with a beautiful rainbow crossing it. Shang Tsung was at the courtyard of his fortress, bringing his beloved to him by magic. They were surprised by being brought for a visit, looking with him with doubt. He had thought enough about it to be sure of his decision, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with someone he truly loved and that was his first and maybe last chance of finding true happiness.

“Care to listen to a sorcerer’s pledge?” He asked, walking in circles around his S/O, watching every reaction they could have “I used to think that love was a lie, and marriage as well. After meeting you, I felt things within my soul that not even eternity was able to provide me. Would you accept marrying me?” The wizard stops in front of his beloved, showing them a beautiful ring in form of a serpent with sapphire eyes that seemed to glow. He smiled, allowing a soft expression full of hope to appear at his face, the mistery was killing him.

Kung Lao

- Being married was never an option for Kung Lao, monks had their duties and wouldn’t allow themselves to be distracted by mundane things such as love. Kung Lao desired from the deep of his heart to one day be able to meet someone who would make him feel special, but with time he accepted that such love was not meant for him, as he was no ordinary man but instead a warrior who had sworn to protect Earthrealm. It all changed when he meet a special someone who made him relieve those old desires. He’s confident at his skills as a fighter, but is afraid to propose as he doesn’t think to be an ideal lover.

The shaolin monk was unusually quiet that day, his S/O was worried that something bad had happened, asking him what was wrong. Kung Lao remained silent for the rest of the day, leaving a grim mistery surrounding his beloved. When night falled upon them, he brought his loved one to the top roofs of the temple, joining them in stargazing.

“See those stars? They are not as bright as your smile.” He starts, smiling a lot and trying to be serious for once “I’m sorry for today, but there is something that I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while...” Kung Lao cleared his throat, needing some seconds to remember what he planned saying but his mind went blank so he had to speak from heart. “I love you. Please, let me be your chosen one... I mean, husband...” He can’t believe what he just said so he starts laughing, Kung Lao feels miserable in a weird good way and no matter the answer he gets, he will still love them.

Kuai Liang (Sub Zero II)

- Marriage is something Kuai sees as very serious and important, he would never propose without being truly in love and sure of his words. As a traditional man, he may be the vanilla kind of lover but always romantic indeed. For the Lin Kuei marriage is more than just a civil engagement, they see it as a honour that shall endure for the nexts generations as a new family joins their clan.

Sub-Zero was overthinking again about marriage, he wanted to propose but was too shy for doing it without looking ridiculous, so he decided to write a poem. Kuai took a long time creating his love letter, it not only was about his love for them but also about their qualities and beauty from inside to outside. When he was done, he started thinking of how to delivery it. Kuai Liang was at the courtyard of the temple, he had called his S/O for an important subject there, but when they arrived he was simply building a snowman.

“Darling, care to help me?” He asked, smiling and allowing them to come closer.

As his beloved helped him with the snowman, he growned anxious. “What is this?” He pointed, it was a paper edge that was getting out of the snowman head. As his loved one pulled it, they got an envelope in hands. Kuai smiled and they got the message that it was to be read. A ring was also inside the envelope and as his S/O read the letter his heart beated faster. When they finished, he was flustered and embarassed by his idea, they holded the ring and were shocked by the proposal at such cute moment. Kuai remained silent, waiting for their answer as his anxiety growned.

#mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat aftermath #mortal kombat headcanons #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat x reader #reader insert #headcanon #imagine #kung lao #kuai liang #sub zero #quan chi #shang tsung #fujin #ask #requests open

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selfships-in-spanish · 3 years

Text

The Queen of Demons 3/?

Pairing: Erwin Smith x OC, Levi Ackerman x OC

Rating: Mature (the rating will go up as the story advances! But it will totally be explicit ;D But right now just in case)

Warnings: None for now, but sexist and misogynist upbringing (Eva's father is a huge asshole).

Word Count: 7103

ALSO POSTED ON AO3

A/N: Third chapter LET'S GOOOOOO– We are getting more into the plot of the story, Erwin being Erwin and Flora being the absolute best girl in the whole universe.

Gotta love Flora.

CHAPTER 3: DANCING WITH THE DEVIL

Both the Crown Prince and the Chief ordered their remaining men to step outside too, asking for absolute privacy. Everyone but Moblit left.

Friederich let out a loud sigh, taking a long gulp from his goblet to drown the image of their beloved little sister pleading them to not leave her alone. They sadly had to, it was safer for her this way. The Chief refilled it, the Prince thanking him with a nod.

“Now you understand what we meant, right?” Hans laced his fingers together, resting his arms on his knees.

“Father has had his claws on her for far too long.” Friederich stared at the wine in his goblet, frowning displeased. “Too long.”

He forgot when it was the last time his little sister genuinely smiled.

“I do, your Highnesses. And I swear to you both, and to the Goddesses, that she will be safe here.”

“This wouldn’t have been possible without your help, Erwin. You really don’t know how grateful we are to you, and for accepting our only request.” Hans looked directly at the Chief’s eyes.

“This is the safest place for her to be while the other stages of the plan happen.” Erwin took a sip of his goblet, eyeing both brothers as he awaited for Moblit to finish translating. “Your father won’t dare urge us Eldians to fulfill our end of the deal until the marriage happens. For now he waits, and that is when we must act. Sadly time is of the essence, and we cannot waste any of it.”

“Truly a race against time, huh?” Friederich crossed his arms, not wanting to let any negative thoughts cloud his mind and sully his purpose.

“Yes, a race we must win.” Both brothers understood now why the Eldian Chief was both feared by his enemies and deeply respected by his allies. His determination was contagious, and even if they had all the odds against them, they felt that they could truly win. This is how his warriors must feel on the battlefield, ready to give their lives following his orders as they fought side by side.

“Our sister–” Friederich insisted, his fingers twitching.

“My warriors will protect her. The chances of having an entire army mobilised here are very slim, especially considering their General is here, and that the troops are loyal to their General, before their King.” Erwin motioned with his hand towards Friederich. “And I suppose if it was inevitable, I would have a word of warning to prepare a scheme to avoid our armies confronting each other, wouldn’t I?”

“Still, it’s a big gamble. Even for you.” Hans replied, taking a sip from his goblet. “We should consider all chances.”

“He knows his chances.” Friederich leaned back on his chair. “Don’t you?”

“I’ve always been a man of big gambles.” The Chief’s chuckle made Friederich snort. “But rest assured–”

“This is our sister we are speaking of, not only Gottesreich.” From the two brothers, Friederich had always been the hot-headed one, and wouldn’t hesitate to say a piece of his mind when his little Birdie was concerned. “Harmony has been broken, Father has gone too far in his madness, and this is our only chance to do something, yes.” Friederich leveled the Chief with a hard stare. “But for me, my sister comes first. She’s an innocent in this, screw the Kingdom if any harm comes to her, screw Fa–”

“Friederich.” Hans fixed his eyes on his brother. A warning.

“I understand your feelings and concerns, Friederich. I do, and I share the same sentiment as you.”

“She is not a pawn to be sacrificed in any stage of the plan. This is why she is here.”

“I know. Trust my warriors.” Erwin’s determined glint in his eyes settled any doubts the younger Prince may have had.

Some said he was a master strategist, others a mad genius leading an army of demons. Friederich believed he was both, because you had to be brilliantly crazy to pull stunts as they had pulled before and be victorious each time. His warriors would follow him to the ends of the known world and Friederich deeply respected that.

“We will right the wrongdoings done to this world by the hand of our father. We only wished we realised sooner what his plans were.”

“You realised it in time, enough to do something.”

“We hope so, Erwin.” Hans had a somber expression on his face, really wanting to believe what the Chief said. “We hope so.”

That seemed to conclude their private meeting, seeing both brothers to their respective rooms in the guest houses. The Chief retired to his own too, soon to be shared with his fiancé, before finishing some matters concerning the evening banquet.

As he stepped into the wooden tub filled with warm water, releasing a pleased groan as he lowered himself further into it and felt the tight knots in his back loosen, he couldn’t help but to still think about their little talk with the Princes and the Princess herself.

There was so much work to be done. They were only in the early stages of their plan and so many things could go wrong. Erwin was not stupid, he knew every plan had its risks, but they made the hard work worth it. It was worth it. The three siblings were the key to change the course of the three nations.

Hans was going to be a good King. Down to earth, just, always willing to protect his people and their happiness. He had a great responsibility on his shoulders as the Crown Prince, but Erwin felt more at ease knowing one day he will be the one sitting on the throne of Gottesreich. The Crown Prince despised greed.

Erwin deeply respected Friederich, both as a General who had the trust of his men and as a fierce soldier with a big heart. Those were qualities appreciated in Eldia, since you had to understand life in order to take one in battle. Friederich always honoured his enemies, and Erwin knew that if they ever had to cross swords in a battlefield, it would be a good, honourable fight.

But that wasn’t the plan, no. If it all came together in the end, they would be side by side.

As he let his head rest on the edge of the tub, Erwin’s mind wandered towards the third of the Gottesreichan siblings.

Erwin would be an absolute blind fool if he didn’t agree with what the whispers and rumours said; the Princess was a beauty. Elegance, gracefulness, perfect manners, a lovely face… everything needed to survive in a court and its poisoned, claustrophobic walls. But he would never forget the way she looked absolutely terrified at the prospect of being alone, and Erwin couldn’t blame her at all. It would shake anyone to their cores to be ripped off their homes to be then thrown into an unknown territory. But there was also something else hidden deep under those layers of fear, another reason than a change of culture.

With her doe eyes and delicate features, the Princess reminded him of a scared little fawn.

Erwin only hoped she would lose her fear and be happy here, to be her true self without her father’s strings manipulating her every movement and word. It will be tedious and Erwin will have to use his entire patience, but he was positive he would succeed.

The door of the private bathroom opened without a warning, Levi stepping in with a confident stride and uncaring of Erwin’s nakedness. He closed it with his foot, not even turning back to properly do so, and took a stool to sit down on it. Erwin knew it would be futile to stop Levi from saying what he had on his mind, years of friendship proved him that, and that displeased frown sometimes said more than words.

“This is a terrible idea.” Levi crossed his arms, glaring at the man in front of him. “Are you sure about this, Erwin?”

The Chief chuckled. Levi’s frown deepened.

“Ah, straight to the point as always.” Erwin closed his eyes, feeling Levi’s agitated ones on him. “I am sure.”

“What made you think marrying that Princess will help Eldia?” Levi wasn’t happy about this decision he took, but he knew that deep down Erwin must have a good, important reason to do it. Or maybe not. This was Erwin, you never knew what he had in mind. “Or maybe you want kids now? Don’t tell me it’s that, you bastard. You could have chosen any Eldian woman, they’d be more than happy to do so.”

Erwin couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that escaped from deep in his throat.

“Rest assured, Levi, it’s not kids I want.”

“Then what? It’s Gottesreich we are talking about. Gottesreich and the mad, greedy King. Do you really want to be associated with that?”

“She will help our cause.” Erwin heard Levi sigh. “Thankfully the brothers think so too, the people of her Kingdom have a special spot for her, and that plays to our advantage. Let’s better leave the Mad King thinking he got a stupidly, unbelievable good deal and that he won us, uncultured barbarians, over. You know what they say,” Ah, there it was. That dangerous, cunning glint in his eyes. “keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

The Chief and his insane gambles. Levi scoffed.

“You already have planned multiple ways to use her and her ties to the Mad King, haven’t you?”

“You make me sound like an uncaring monster, Levi. But I wouldn’t endanger her at all, that’s not part of the plan.”

“Sometimes you are, dipshit. When you have a plan and are adamant to carry it on, nothing will stop you.” Erwin placed his hand on his chest, chuckling and lowering his head as if he was hurt.

“You wound me.”

“Asshole.” Levi kicked the tub.

“But she isn’t here to be used as a pawn.” That caught Levi’s attention. “She is here for her safety. If she stayed any longer in her Kingdom, she would have her pretty head chopped off or worse. Here she has a second chance.”

“So that’s the deal with her brothers, then? Their sister?”

“That was their only selfish request, that only one life was to be secured at any costs, even over their citizens.”

“Huh. I see. So we are babysitters now.”

“You could put it like that, or also you could think of it as an opportunity to see a beautiful flower bloom, besides the enrichment and merging of our cultures. Don’t you want to expand your knowledge?”

Levi’s brow twitched.

“You are twisted.”

“And you are twisting my words. I meant this,” Erwin tapped his temple. “Our little Princess there is not just a pretty face. I want to see what she is capable of.”

“Huh.”

“I know that behind those scared eyes lies intelligence and knowledge. One time Prince Hans told me she would go with them on diplomatic visits, and how she would take over one day when he was King. She has the skills. She’s observant, or haven’t you noticed?”

“I guess, although today she looked mostly like a frightened mouse, or haven’t you noticed?”

“Ah, indeed I noticed. Do you blame her, though?”

Levi looked at his feet, sighing.

“Not at all.”

Both men remained in silence, going through today’s events. Their lives would drastically change from now on, and Levi wanted to believe it was for the good. Erwin’s voice grabbed his attention again.

“Let’s try our best to make her feel welcome. Everyone would be scared to be in a foreign land with no known faces, no knowledge of the language, only knowing your fate is sealed and you cannot do a thing about it.”

“I think your eyebrows are what scares her the most.” Levi snorted, rising up from the stool. “Although I know other things will scare her more when she sees them.”

“Oi, there’s nothing wrong with my eyebrows.” He splashed a bit of water towards Levi’s direction, knowing how his childish behaviour often set his right hand’s man nerves on edge. He also didn’t want parts of his anatomy discussed while he was, well, naked. Levi deserved a bit of water.

“I hope your kids don't have them.” It was Erwin’s turn to snort.

“Rude.”

“Get out before you look like a raisin. I bet the Princess won’t kiss you then.” Levi grabbed a towel and threw it at the Chief’s face. “Go take a shit and make yourself presentable. You should take her around the town.”

“We better let her rest, it has been a long journey for them.” Erwin left the towel on a nearby stool. “I will take her and her brothers tomorrow to see the town.”

Levi shrugged his shoulders, walking to the door.

“Be on your best behaviour.” Levi rolled his eyes, not sparing a glance towards the Chief. Levi knew he would have that infuriating smirk on his lips.

“I’m always on my best behaviour.”

“Absolutely.”

Erwin watched Levi shake his head and sigh, exiting the bathroom and leaving the Chief snickering and alone with his thoughts.

There were so many things to prepare for his change in his daily life in the upcoming months. For once, he would have to share his house and make room for whatever needs and space the Princess may have.

And tidy.

Erwin scratched his chin, knowing he really should pick up his clothes and take them to get cleaned before Levi lost his patience and set fire to them. Also pick up the maps and books invading every flat surface available. Change the candles, store the seal wax in its rightful place…

Yes, many things indeed.

Erwin let himself submerge slightly into the water, sighing.

///

“This is a nightmare.”

“Oh c’mon, you big dramatic oaf. Look at the bright side of it, he is handsome! And strong! I want one of them myself!”

“Flora!”

“What? I got eyes and I’m not made of stone! Did you see the size of him? I bet he can lift a cow without breaking a sweat.” Flora brushed her Princess’ hair, perfectly detangling and separating the strands to prepare it for the hair style she had in mind, and greatly enjoying her friend’s flustered cheeks. “And he will say to you: “Oh, my Princess! Look at these arms!”, and then will rip his tunic off–” Flora dropped her voice trying to imitate the same pitch as the Chief’s one, and also flexing her own arms as if she was displaying her own inexistent muscles. “And say: “Princess, tonight I will—“

Eva’s scandalised gasp made it worth it.

“Where did you learn all this?!”

“My dear, sweet, virtuous, pure, innocent, Princess.” Flora’s grin made Eva’s mouth twitch.

“No, save it. I don’t want to know.”

“You know the captain’s son, handsome young man—“

“Flora!”

“Those unused rooms where—“

Another gasp.

“No!” Eva covered her mouth. Those rooms?!

“That table— sturdy, let me tell you. But ah! He has good fingers!”

“FLORA.”

The handmaiden snorted, followed by a good-hearted laugh. She resumed brushing the Princess’ hair, already thinking what pins to use this time for the braid and bun.

“I know you had to be the beacon of virtue and holiness for the Kingdom, an example to be followed, but us women are curious and have our needs also. What’s wrong in having a little bit of fun? Haven’t you been curious yourself?” Flora’s smile reassured Eva. Sometimes Eva felt like her handmaiden was a caring big sister, and felt comfortable enough to discuss thoughts she had that never would dare to say aloud.

“I… well.”

“...I know about those forbidden books under your mattress.”

“Then you know the answer.”

Flora’s loud laugh echoed around the room, needing to leave the brush on the vanity and having to clutch her belly. Eva’s cheeks increased their red glow, pointedly ignoring Flora’s outburst. Certainly those who came from the countryside weren’t as lawful to the Holy Scriptures as the ones nearer the Capital or the Palace itself.

Once Flora managed to calm down enough and wiped away tears, she resumed her work, expertly braiding the Princess’s long hair. It always soothed Eva, the way her handmaiden gently manoeuvred her hands and fingers without a harsh and painful pull. Flora said having two whiny younger sisters made you learn fast.

“Hmmm,” Flora tied the braid with a ribbon for now, tapping her finger on her chin while deep in thought. “I was thinking that for tonight’s banquet you should look… exquisite. But distinguished. But making sure our darling Chief cannot take your eyes away from you.”

“You are enjoying this, aren’t you.” Eva rose a delicate brow, looking straight at Flora’s honey eyes through the mirror. Flora snickered, turning around to the multiple open trunks and luggage.

“Of course I am!” Flora rummaged through one of the Princess’ trunks, pulling out a dress. “What about this one?”

“Which one?” Eva turned around to see which piece was Flora holding in her hands. “The red one? Maybe it’s too much… The cleavage and open shoulders—“

“It makes a statement. Our Chief won’t be able to concentrate on anything else but you.”

“I really don’t want to draw too much attention to myself, Flora. You know how much I despise it.”

“You will draw it regardless of what you are wearing, my darling Princess. Sadly you are new, and everyone wants to see the novelty.”

“I know…”

“So let's make them look and drop their jaws when they do.” Flora’s eyes brightened at her own words, a fire burning in them.

“I wish I had your confidence.” Eva sighed looking down at her hands.

“Oh no no no—” Flora left the dress on top of the bed, walking next to her Princess and holding her face in her hands and squeezing her cheeks. “Do not give me that speech!”

“Whut Fwlora—“

“Not buts! Show them what the proud, brilliant and beautiful Princess of Gottesreich is capable of!”

///

“This was Flora’s doing, right?”

“You know there’s nothing one can do to stop her once she’s set on something.” Eva sighed, hearing Hans chuckle.

“Fierce woman.” Friederich replied, smirking.

“Indeed.”

“You will thank me later, your Highness.” Flora’s smug smirk made Friederich snicker.

Hans knew her sister’s handmaiden was a hurricane. Stubborn as a mule, also. But had the biggest heart and best intentions. He still remembers when Flora came to the palace to start as a maid, a twig of a girl but with a big smile and endless energy. Chatty, too.

She was perfect for quiet, reserved and shy Eva. He also remembers how Eva would hide behind curtains or a tree because she was not prepared for her new extroverted maid. Now, as they grew, they both turned to be exceptional women with an unbreakable bond. But Flora still pushed Eva to get out of her comfort zone quite often, much to the Princess’ dismay.

The dress did cause a statement.

Once she removed her cloak upon entering the Great Hall, rearranged now to be filled with long tables and so much food it made the royal siblings’ eyes widen, Eva’s shoulders were openly displayed, as well as her long neck and collarbones, the dress neck line following a V ending in the perfect spot to either not be a vulgar display of cleavage and being cheeky enough to intuit what was underneath. It fit perfectly to her body, Flora made sure of that when the royal tailor came to take her measurements. It really was a beautiful and warm dress, velvety to the touch and thick enough to compensate for the open area. It also had embroidered motifs of leaves and flowers decorating the neckline and long sleeves, and a beautifully crafted belt made by the best Gottesreichan artisans that accentuated her waistline. Flora named it the “Jaw Dropper”. Eva scoffed at the name, thinking of how silly it was, until she wore it one day at court and had to admit the nickname suited it just fine.

Like now.

Needless to say the Chief was shocked to see skin revealed, considering how covered and bound the Princess was earlier. A quick look to the Princess’ handmaiden, who stood behind her and not even making an effort to contain her pleased smirk, made the Chief know who was behind the sudden wardrobe change.

The Gottesreichan entourage were led to the main table, as etiquette dictated for being their guests of honour. Flora was being led to another table as they approached their seats, and the thought of having Flora alone and away filled Eva with dread. She wanted Flora with them, secure with her own people, and also to have someone to help make this moment more bearable; Flora always made everything better, especially boring banquets, and the handmaiden thoroughly enjoyed them, and well, sometimes making fun of some lords. That was refreshing, even more when she had to fake smiles and politeness when all Eva wanted to do is lie down on her bed with a book.

Disregarding everything she had been taught, surprising herself even for her own selfish actions, Eva sought Moblit. Father wasn’t there to punish her now, and hoped Hans and Friederich understood her.

“I’m terribly sorry to be a burden, Moblit, but I have a request to make if it is not much trouble.” the warrior in question raised his brows. Seeing how the Princess was fidgeting with her fingers and was trying to hide it, Moblit encouraged her with a smile.

“What can we do for you, Your Highness?”

“I’d like to have my handmaiden, Flora, seated with me. I know protocol dictates otherwise, but–” Eva really hoped it would be possible. She felt her brother’s stares on her and was making her even more nervous. “I’d really appreciate it, if possible.”

Moblit looked surprised, but nodded, still maintaining his smile.

“Do not worry, Your Highness, it’s not trouble at all.”

The way the Princess’ face illuminated itself with a smile shocked the man, and hurriedly went to fetch the handmaiden in question. Flora looked at Eva and then at her supposed spot on a table near the main one, but followed Moblit nonetheless. Eva was glad she decided to ask for her, because they seated Eva next to the Chief and wasn’t sure she would have survived if Flora had not been by her side.

The handmaiden was giddy, usually having to sit on the other tables and entertain herself with the other guests while the Princess dealt with Princes and Lords; Flora recalled those times the Princess would roll her eyes whenever they crossed their gazes and both women had to hide their smirks behind their drinks. Flora knew she wouldn't have had any trouble in making friends as usual, despite the lack of language between her and the Eldians. Eva often called her a social hurricane, besides a menace when Flora had ideas.

“This looks delicious, doesn’t it?” Flora looked at the table once they were seated and people started chatting, stopping herself just in time from whistling in amazement. “So much food! They certainly didn’t fall short on it.”

“It does.” Eva sat more rigidly than usual, the closeness with the Chief getting on her nerves. She tried not to raise her voice too much, but had to agree with Flora. “The vegetables look very fresh.”

Eldian servants poured wine to the goblets and left the decanter on the table, busy with the work they had ahead.

“Careful with it, it’s… strong.” Eva looked at her own goblet with dread. She did not want to repeat her performance from before.

“That’s because you cannot hold alcohol, Princess.”

“That’s not true.” Eva knew she sounded like a petulant child.

Flora was about to retort, but was stopped by the Chief getting everyone’s attention by standing up and grabbing his own goblet. The room became silent, everyone focusing their eyes on him. Moblit silently moved to stand behind the Gottesreichan guests, ready for when their Chief spoke up.

The Chief’s strong voice boomed, speaking so everyone in the room could clearly hear him. Eva was still impressed at how his voice reminded her of rumbling thunder on a summer’s storm, and how easily he filled any room with his presence. Eva knew many nobles and princes who wished they had such a commanding presence.

Moblit’s voice made her tear her eyes away from the man.

“People of Eldia, rejoice! For tonight we celebrate and welcome a new member of our tribe. Tonight marks the start of a new stage in our lives and history, the union of two cultures. Please, welcome Princess Eva into your hearts, as she is to become my wife in the upcoming months.”

The Eldians intently listened to their Chief, some nodding, some gasping with excited smiles, some crossing their arms in a display of concentration, some with skeptical frowns. The Princess dreaded the last ones, especially when the attention of the Eldians was shifted to her, their gazes and murmurs not helping the wreck of nerves inside her guts. She will have to be careful with those who weren’t compliant with such news. Eva was not stupid, she knew not everybody was going to be happy and excited to see her here, even less marrying their leader, to become his wife. Surely they all expected someone else, but certainly not her. It was not a secret that Gottesreich had enemies across the continent, and Eldia wasn’t exactly on good, perfect friendly terms with the Holy Kingdom. Eva only hoped her presence here would smooth sore bumps and begin more friendly exchanges between nations.

The Chief turned to her, gesturing to his left with his hand. His eyes didn’t leave hers as she took her cue to gracefully stand up and bow to those who were to become her new people, raising up more murmurs. Flora always told her how her stoic and impassive face amazed her, even though she knew the Princess was a mess inside every time she had to face public speeches and banquets, but remained calm on the outside, not giving away one single thought of hers.

Tonight she really hoped it was the case.

“I propose a toast.” The Chief raised his goblet as he kept talking, while Moblit kept translating. Everyone went to do the same, grabbing and raising their goblets up high. The Chief turned his palm up, offering it for the Princess to delicately pose her own on it, her heart beating wildly inside her chest as the Chief closed it in his grip. His hand was massive. “For this union, for my future wife, for the good of Eldia! May the Goddesses Maria, Rose and Sina bless our guests! Praise the Goddesses!”

“Praise the Goddesses!” The roar of the Eldians was deafening, and everyone cheered in unison as they heartily drank as was customary.

Eva swallowed down her grimace as the wine touched her tongue and went down her throat, scorching as it did earlier. The Chief squeezed her hand, and Eva realised it was slightly trembling. Her husband-to-be was looking at her, unreadable as before, as he let go of her hand and Eva tried to not yank it back to her side in a panic; for him to witness such weakness was embarrassing. Eva left the goblet on the table and sat down as the Chief did, careful of the dress skirt. This was going to be a long night. Moblit went back to his seat on the Eldian side of the table, but not without pausing to whisper “you did well, Princess” to Eva. That was comforting.

“See? Cannot hold it at all.” Eva’s earrings slapped her jaw from the force of her head turning to fix a stare at Flora. Eva ignored the sting.

“Oh, stop it! I told you it’s strong!”

“Do you want me to remind you of that time, at Prince Zeke’s birthday party, where you–”

“No! Shush! Don’t remind me!” Eva turned her head towards the front, raising it with as much dignity as she could and a slight blush dusting on her cheeks. Not that night, Eva swore she let out even her first meal as a mere babe. It had been horrible. Flora had to hold her hair while telling another maid to get her water and a calming tea to settle her stomach. She did not dare step out of her rooms for the entire morning.

“Hmm?”

“...Okay, you are right. I cannot hold it. Satisfied?”

“For now.”

“Don’t make me regret this.” Eva sighed as she took her napkin. It was a nice fabric, Eva was surprised.

“As if! You already have to thank me, the Chief hasn’t taken his eyes from you.”

Eva froze, venturing a quick look to her right to see how indeed the Chief was glancing her way while sipping on his drink. He seemed amused but also as if he had his mind thinking on something. Eva hastily returned her gaze to her plate.

“Told you it would work!” Flora’s smug shake of her head made Eva sigh.

She was right. It did work.

“Don’t worry Birdie, I’ve seen princesses and nobles shoving their bosoms to everyone’s faces with their dresses.” Friederich leaned in, catching his sister’s attention with a cheeky smile. “You are safe.”

“See? Even Friederich here agrees with me! You have to show off that beautiful neck of yours!”

“Take some mercy on my poor sister, Flo.”

“Hm,” Flora drank from her goblet, leaning back on her seat. “Only because you asked nicely.”

“You both,” Hans’ voice rose. The three of them looked over at the Crown Prince calmly cutting some meat from his plate. “Behave. And Eva,” Hans looked at Eva with gentle eyes. “You did good today, I’m proud of you.”

Hans' smile and praise warmed Eva, happy of today’s efforts being noticed. She achieved to keep making her brothers proud, and hoped her father would be too. A timid smile rose to her lips.

The banquet passed without much more trouble, but Flora kept talking and made the Princess be out of her silent shell. Eva didn’t know if to feel relieved or saddened for not being able to communicate with the Chief, as one would do in any banquet with your dinning partner, but Eva pointedly tried to avoid looking at him, although she once or twice looked to his side for guidance when some Eldian dishes were presented and she had no idea how one was supposed to eat that. The Chief was patient enough to show her when she looked lost, and Eva kind of wanted to groan in embarrassment and thump her head on the table at the thought of what must the Chief think of her, even unable to eat without guidance as if she was a child.

The desserts were delicious, though.

As the night continued, some Eldians began dancing in the center of the Great Hall to the lively tunes the band played on a corner. They cheered and laughed loudly, inviting others to join and spin around the improvised dance floor. Those who weren’t dancing yet, followed the rhythm of the music with the clapping of their hands and thumping of feet on the floor, singing along.

The air was cheery and happy, contagious even. Some warriors went to the center of the floor, like Mike with that female warrior from before. Even Moblit was dragged to it by an excited warrior with a wide smile and sparkling brown eyes. The Chief remained on his seat, enjoying the jolly atmosphere of his people having a good time. Levi kept refusing people coming to ask him for a dance.

Eva watched fascinated at the Eldian dances, so different from those back home. They were not afraid of bodies touching bodies, hands clasping and hugging, spinning, jumping… it was as if a joyful spell had been casted on them. Even Flora joined, and Eva was really not surprised at that, when an Eldian approached her. Flora was torn for a split second, not wanting to leave the Princess alone, but Eva nudged her, begging her handmaiden to have a good time on her behalf. So there she was, dancing and spinning and laughing as the Eldian man tried to follow her pace. Eva couldn’t help her smile, enjoying her friend having a good time.

As the night progressed, more people joined and changed partners as others took a break. Knowing how Friederich loved to dance when he was at foreign banquets, Eva did not try to feign surprise or shock when he took Flora to join him in a dance as she had come back to take a break too, this time shoving her to her brother’s arms, whispering “go go go!” for only her to hear. Eva considered this payback for the dress, raising a brow with an almost imperceptible smirk as Flora sent her a dirty, flustered look her way when Friederich twirled her around. Her smugness fell when the Chief’s voice rumbled beside her, Moblit translating for him as the poor warrior managed to take a seat again after his dance partner let him.

“You don’t dance, Your Highness?”

Oh dear. Oh no. He was asking for a dance?

"My deepest apologies, I wouldn't want to expose my lack of gracefulness in front of my Lord. I am not acquaintanced with the dance moves or songs, and I’m afraid also I only know Gottesreichan court dances.”

Hans watched intently at their interaction, curious as to what her sister was going to do to get out of that one. Normally he would come to her rescue, or Friederich or Flora, but from now on she had to be on her own. The Chief answered and Moblit translated.

“I can teach you.”

Hans saw Eva swallow. There was no way she was getting out of that one, poor thing.

“I–I really don’t want to cause any embarrassment on you–”

“I was told you were a good dancer, though. I’m sure you are a fast learner too, Your Highness.”

The Chief stood up, his form towering over her as he offered his hand. Eva quickly looked at Hans, as if he would try to save her at the last minute, but he pointedly looked another way. Traitor! Eva didn’t have any other option but to accept the invitation and spend the most distressing moment of her life, for now. She heard Levi scoff and shake his head, saying something loud enough for the Chief and Moblit to hear, making the big man huff amusedly and Moblit to sigh.

People were staring, and Eva saw Flora encourage her with excited nods and smiles, mouthing “Go!”, and then “Like the summer solstice dances!”, at her. Friederich fixed a stare at the Chief as he saw his hand settle on the Princess’ waist after guiding Eva’s hand on his shoulder, holding her free hand in his own. The Chief smiled at her, trying to reassure the Princess as he squeezed her hand, and Eva had two swallow down a noise as she noticed how his hand engulfed her own. Even her waist felt small in his grasp.

The Chief gently guided her through the first steps of the dance, swaying and hopping to get used to it, and Eva felt clumsy like a newborn colt trying to follow him. Her nerves were not helping at all, too focused on the feel of his hand on her waist and back, its warmth scorching even through the thick layers of the dress, or the way his chest pressed against her back when the Chief tested the waters when he made her twirl through a step of the dance. Eva maintained her eyes locked on the Chief’s, as one should do when dancing with a partner, and Eva was sure the Chief could clearly see her anguish in them at the thought of either stepping on his foot, or being a poor dance partner, but he only saw genuine amusement in them. Maybe she was not doing that bad.

The music picked up a faster rhythm again, the banquet attendants getting back to their conversations and dancing partners, although curiously keeping an eye on the spectacle of having the Chief dance with the Princess. Eva could feel her uneasiness slip away, her confidence swelling at the thought that her trembling hands hadn't given her anxiety away, and allowed herself to move more freely. It was as Flora said, a dance like the summer solstice dances from Gottesreich where you let joy and music guide you and your partner. Still, the Eldian way of dancing was more wild, less bound and constrained, and more light on the feet, loose.

Feeling how the Princess was less strained and rigid, the Chief increased the speed of his movements too, following the band’s rhythm. He was enticed by the way the skirt of the dress flowed, reminding him of a flower in full bloom moved by a slight breeze, and the way her cheeks were reddened by both the efforts and her own nervousness.

The Chief felt bold, wanting to see how much he could push and test the Princess’ limits for tonight, and encouraged by the clapping of the people and the increased tempo of the song pushing the dancers into a more frenzied section, nearing the end of the song, the Chief made the Princess spin before picking her up in the air. He could see how both his hands practically swallowed her waist, fingers almost brushing against each other, and heard both the excited cheers and whistles from his people and the Princess’ startled gasp, frantically searching a place to find purchase for her hands, finally settling on his shoulders and tightening her grip for dear life, feeling his thick muscles underneath. She was light as a feather, and the thought greatly amused him. The Chief spun them around once, setting her back on her feet and continued to dance, Eva needing to ground herself to the fact that The Chief picked her up as if she weighed nothing, besides the boldness of the act itself. This was unthinkable back at court!

The Chief did it again and Eva wanted the earth to swallow her whole at the tiny, undignified squeak she let out as if she was a scared little mouse. Eva swore she saw him chuckle and the Princess pulled her lips in a tight line, fighting for her cheeks to not redden further.

The song was reaching its climax, the musicians wildly playing their instruments in an intense performance, and in a final spin and hop of the dance the Chief pulled the Princess close, ending the dance with their bodies pressed against each other and not taking their gazes away, staring intently into the other.

The Great Hall erupted with applauses and cheers, everyone taking a moment to step away from their partners, conversations and food to congratulate everyone in the room. Eva was panting, acutely aware of how her chest was squished and pressed against his own as he too tried to regain his breath, hands still clasped together and his other one on her small of the back. Her fabric felt flimsy and thin to her now, as if she was too exposed to his gaze, and Eva wanted to curse Flora for it; she did not need to look down to see how they were pressed upwards, Eva felt it.

Thankfully he stepped back, probably by the murderous glower of Friederich thrown his way, and released her as he respectfully bowed. Eva did the same, lifting her skirts and returning his courtesy. He then gestured to their seats, and Eva was never more grateful or in agreement with the Chief as she was now. She urgently needed to take a seat and process everything. Flora and Friederich did the same, the handmaiden excitedly sitting down and intently looking at the Princess, ready to open her mouth. The Chief speaking stopped her.

“I knew you were a fast learner, Your Highness. It was a beautifully performed dance.” Moblit translated, and both women saw the Chief nod at them both with a pleased smile before drinking from his goblet.

“Thank you for the dance, my Lord, I’m honoured.”

“Although, I never thought a mouse could make such adorable noises.”

Eva wanted to scream.

///

Eva still had the memory of the Chief’s hand on her body, like a scorching imprint deep in her mind. Eva swore her skin still tingled from the contact, even if she was in her nightgown and staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. Her fingers were nervously braiding and unbraiding her hair, going over today’s events and banquet.

Flora was already out like a light, her deep breaths signaling how deep into her slumber she was, and Eva could not blame her. Flora truly tired herself dancing, and Eva did not have the heart to tell her to behave, that was Eva’s job. A perfect pretty puppet. Flora did not represent the virtuousness and regalness of the Holy Kingdom, and Eva preferred it that way; Flora was a free spirit, and Eva would rather have her fly like a free bird than have her caged as herself in her duties.

This was to become Eva’s new life here, living amongst demons. Different place, same cage.

The Princess was not looking forward to the walk around the village that the Chief proposed for tomorrow morning, much preferring to stay in her rooms and scream into her pillow until her vocal chords were sore. She also wasn’t eager to go on the customary hunt the Eldians performed for their brides and grooms in the forest. Whenever Eva had to tag along the hunting trips back at any court, rolling her eyes internally at the nobles and princes showing themselves like peacocks, she was bored out of her mind. The Princess usually sat down at the picnic blanket spread out on the grass and under a tree’s shadow, drinking her cup of coffee with the other ladies and Flora. Eva always zoned out, answering with monosyllables and enough words for the other conversing partner to not feel ignored, as she gazed at the flowers or birds.

Sighing deeply, Eva let go of her hair and shifted to her side, facing the window.

At least the moon was the same.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #erwin smith #levi ackerman #erwin smith x oc #erwin x oc #erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot oc #snk oc #attack on titan oc #shingeki no kyojin oc #arranged marriage au #queen of demons #mius writes

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kawaiichibiart · 4 years

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After seeing the idea of Sun!Spirit/Prince Zuko, I've been wanting a Tangled AU. Zuko is Rapunzel, Ozai is Gothel, Iroh, Ursa and Azula are the King and Queen, the Gaang are Flynn/Eugene but Sokka is the one who ends up with Zuko. Mai and Ty Lee are the Stabington brothers but with the twist of not being criminals and the Kiyoshi warriors are the thugs from the Ugly Duckling.

Zuko is blessed by Agni the day of his birth, he has beautiful, golden, hair and he just...Glows. Ursa is happy with her child. Iroh and Lu Ten are happy with the new addition to their family.

But we need a bad guy in this. And who else but Ozai? Ala Gothel, he puts on a cloak, and a mask to cover up his face, and kidnaps Zuko and takes him away.

He planned for this. He said he had important meetings to attend to with certain people, like Zhao. Those people play alibi. So, when he returns to his distraught wife, brother and nephew, he acts distraught as well. His son was "taken" from him.

No one would ever know Zuko was hidden away, somewhere far away from the Fire Nation, locked away, because as Agni's chosen one, he needed the "protection." Zuko is special. People will want to kill him. Listen to your father, Zuko. Your father loves you, Zuko. Your father knows best, Zuko. You can't leave this place, Zuko. You don't know anything about the world, Zuko. Men are animals and women are either weak or don't care about you, Zuko. I mean, where is your mother, Zuko? She's not here, she doesn't care about you, Zuko. There was a war around them, Zuko. You can't take care of yourself, Zuko.

And we know Gothel was manipulative. We know she toyed with Rapunzel's emotions. Ozai would be the same, but we know he'd also be worse. The day he burned Zuko? He'd go off saying he's sorry. How it wasn't really his fault. Zuko was pushing him and he snapped. Zuko, how can you blame your poor father? So, of course Zuko thinks it was deserved. Of course he blames himself. He provoked his own father, the man who was "protecting" him from the dangers of the world.

Ozai would call Zuko his "Sun" much like Gothel referred to Rapunzel as her "Flower."

Zuko has a turtleduck as his only friend/pet. Not sure on names, but something ironic would be fun. Like, he doesn't know the name of his relatives, he doesn't even know he has a sister now. But he names the turtleduck Ursa, or Iroh, maybe even Lu or Lala (one of the nicknames for Azula). Ozai doesn't know about them. He doesn't know someone in his family shares a name with a turtleduck.

And who is the one who finds Zuko? Who gets knocked unconscious, is shoved into a wardrobe, gets tied up and made to take Zuko to see something he's always wanted to see? Sokka.

He's traveling with the rest of the Gaang. Will they be like Flynn/Eugene? Kinda. Toph and Sokka the prime criminals. Aang sometimes helps them, and Katara is just there to make sure they don't hurt themselves and to yell at them for being stupid and making her worry. They need a mom, so she stepped up.

What lead them to Zuko was that they learned of the Lost Prince, Prince Zuko, who was kidnapped as a baby.

In Tangled, we know the object that Flynn steals is Rapunzel's crown. I was thinking something else for Zuko. The crown would be a nice connection, but I think something else would be better. Something that connects him to either Ursa or to Iroh. If we go Ursa, they take the Blue Spirit mask. If we go Iroh, perhaps a Pai Sho tile that was turned into a necklace or a ring. We could even have both.

Sokka and Toph don't really get why these things matter. Like, it's not a crown or a nice blade. One is just wood and the other is part of a game. What's so special about them?

So, when Zuko puts on the mask, it feels oddly right, but also familiar. Before he was taken, Ursa would show him her masks. He was scared at first, but then curiosity won out and he would always reach out for the Blue Spirit mask. And Ursa was going to give it to him as soon as he was old enough to have it. When he holds the Pai Sho tile in his hand, it feels warm. Iroh, when he was around, would take care of Zuko and would often play Pai Sho while he did. Zuko would always reach for the white lotus piece. So, Iroh decided it would be his. But Zuko was only ever interested in that one tile. Never the game. So, he turned it into something he would and could wear.

Let's get back to the Gaang. Sokka hasn't reappeared. He hasn't called. He didn't come back to tell them that it was safe. So, one by one, they enter the tower (because I had to keep that element) and they just see Sokka, tied up, two blades against his neck and a boy who is glowing holding them.

The boy is looking at them wearily. He was told this place was safe. That he couldn't protect himself, but he caught a man, held him captive. But he was still yelled at. He didn't reveal his prisoner. His father had left, with the promise of bringing him some new inks and a play scroll for the celebration of the Solstice. But now he had three more people to fight. Three more people who would try to kill him. But they don't? They don't know who he is? Why he's special? Didn't they want to kill Agni's chosen one?

Cue to an awkward moment of the Gaang trying to convince a boy who was touched by the sun to let one of their members go and to join them. That they promised to not let anything happen to him. And he agrees, eventually.

And the journey plays out just like it did in Tangled. Zuko is conflicted. On the one hand, he's seeing the world. Yes, there's a war going on, but he's actually seeing it for the first time in his life. The world is so big and he's so curious about everything. His turtleduck quacks replies to his questions. It's kinda cute, kinda sad, and overall something the Gaang think should have been taken care of long ago. On the other hand, Zuko is paranoid. He's afraid. He's worried that his father would find out and be disappointed. That he really is a horrible son and human being. He can go from happy and curious about one thing to upset and stressed about the next.

And eventually, Sokka decides that maybe they should move on. He would take Mr. Sunshine back to his house. He'd get their stolen goods back. They'd depart as friends and be happy. But no, Mr. Sunshine wasn't backing down. He wanted this. He wanted to see the world and he was going to. Sokka is frustrated the most outta the Gaang. Toph enjoys Zuko's company, Aang gets along well with him and Katara has no real opinion of him. But Sokka? Yeah, he'd rather have Zuko go back so they can move on.

I want the Ugly Duckling to be the Jasmine Dragon. Iroh isn't in the day they arrive. But you know who is? Some of the Kyoshi warriors. Suki is amongst them. In this AU, she and her warriors weren't caught by Azula. When she learns that Zuko is living his dream, she reluctantly lets them go by. She brings up the war, and he knows, but he has so much to see, and if he can help people along the way, why would he turn his back?

Things start to look up, but then, Azula strikes with Mai and Ty Lee. She was told by her father of the boy with the golden hair. He was Agni's chosen one. He was more powerful than her. He would be a great addition to her court. So, she wanted to capture him. She didn't know he was her older brother (and yes, I'm aiming for this to have an Azula redemption).

Ozai stops them, knocking them all unconscious and takes a distraught Zuko away. And Zuko lets him. the Gaang abandoned him. They let the enemy take him. They let him think they cared.

He didn't know they were being held back. He didn't know that they tried to get to him. He didn't know that they were ambushed. That they had to retreat. Mai and Ty Lee are arrested earlier for attacking the Crown Princess. Azula wants to feel betrayed but can't. She's sure they didn't attack her, Ozai says she only believes that because they lied so well about being her friends. She takes his words to heart. Her friends lied to her and she let them.

Zuko eventually finds out EVERYTHING. He's the Lost Prince. Agni's chosen was the Fire Nation's Lost Prince. And he's seen what the war started by his own people a hundred years ago. He's met the avatar. He's made friends. He met people who actually care about him. He's done with his father. But Ozai wasn't letting him go. He leaves Zuko bound in the tower in order to fight the Avatar.

Who fights Azula? Mai, Ty Lee, who were broken out of prison by Iroh, and Katara. They weren't in the Boiling Rock. They don't have to fully defeat Azula, they just need to distract her enough for her to be caught. And some miracle, the trio succeed with little injury to either party.

Aang defeats Ozai and he, Sokka, Suki and Toph take Ozai to the palace where he would be taken away. But first, Sokka demands that Azula tell him where she took Zuko. She doesn't know. She never met her brother. So, when he tells her that the boy she was trying to capture was Zuko, she turns to her father in surprise.

The man who told her this boy who was their God's chosen one but never told her he was also her older brother. That he likely left out that detail to ensure she would capture him, bring him home now that Ursa was gone, so he could keep a better eye on him. It was never about making Azula a better court. It was never about giving her a powerful ally. It was just his want to ensure Agni's chosen was his and that he held him in a tight leash. He didn't care about either of them, and when she first met her older brother, she made sure he was afraid of her. That he knew she was above him. That he would know her word was final. Ozai made sure that she would. He told her that that was how she would succeed.

Ozai admits to it. How he was so sure he'd win. How they could ask, beg, torture him as much as they wanted, he would never tell them where Zuko was or if he was okay. So, he's taken away. And the Gaang begin a new search. Azula demands to go with them. She's messed up. She heard her mother grieve for her brother. Maybe, just maybe, bringing him home would make her come home someday.

They travel back to the tower and find Zuko. He's worn out from trying to get out of the chains Ozai put on him. There are burns on his wrists and hands. But the thing that surprises them the most, is the fact that his golden hair was now a deep black, but his eyes were brighter, more golden. His glow had died. Agni's chosen got hurt, he stood out and was hurt. So he was made to look relatively normal. Only those who looked for it, would see the signs that Zuko was his chosen child.

He and Azula have a strained relationship for a while, but they eventually bond and the day one is crowned Fire Lord, the other stands proudly by them.

Iroh returns from Ba Sing Se. His brother is in prison. His niece is okay. The war was over. But the day he returns, he goes to see Azula, to tell her he would help her run things until she could take care of everything herself, and he sees her with a boy. Something about him is familiar. The boy sits by her, fussing over her. The girl's mental and emotional health is a primary thing being seen to. And when Azula sees Iroh, she motions to the boy and asks if he knew Zuko.

Zuko.

Iroh looked at the boy and saw the White Lotus Pai Sho tile necklace around his neck. His hair is no longer its golden hue. His glow died down. But his eyes shouted Agni. This was his Zuko. And Iroh ran over and hugged him. His nephew was home. His nephew was safe. His family would get better.

Zuko is surprised that this old man hugged him. But, it felt nice. It felt right. But most of all, it felt familiar.

All of the Nations celebrate not only the end of the war, but the return of the Fire Nation Prince who was missing for 16, nearly 17, years. The Prince, who few knew as Agni's chosen. The Prince, who had told a few of the people he met when he traveled with the Gaang to call him Li. The Prince, Zuko, who was polite and curious and willing to learn. Zuko, who they hoped would take the throne, but who they were happy to have to ensure his sister didn't bring the war back.

One day, he and Azula would reunite with their Mother and her new family. One day they would meet their new sister, Kiyi. Kiyi, who would hear stories of her older brother, who her mother lost, of her older sister, who her mother had to leave behind.

Her older sister, who was jealous of her. Who struggled to see her mother didn't replace her. Her sister, who after a while, was so protective of her and did love her.

Her older brother, who got hurt for being who he was. Her older brother, who was taken by his own father. Her older brother, who was so kind to her, who played with her and answered her questions.

Ursa would see her children. Both raised by their father but not together. She would never forgive Ozai. For taking her son. For lying to her daughter. For hurting both.

She and Azula struggled to rebuild their relationship. But they do, eventually. The bond isn't as strong as it should have been, but it's there. And it's a start. And that's enough for her.

Zuko, on the other hand, is still in the process of learning everything Ozai told him was a lie. He thought for so long that Ursa didn't want him. That she left him. Abandoned him. So, when he encountered with the woman who was his mother, he didn't know what to think. With Iroh, well, he never knew about Iroh. He never knew he had a family besides his father, who lied and hurt him, and his mother, who supposedly abandoned him and didn't care about him. He never knew he had a sister until the day he was rescued. He never knew he had an uncle until he showed up and hugged him, saying how he was sorry he didn't look for him, that he should have looked harder, not given up. If he could forgive an old man. He never knew his cousin, who died in battle, who wanted to teach him everything he knew. And Ursa understands. She's sad about it, but she knows this is something she has to fix. She has to prove Ozai lied. That she cared about her son. That everyday he wasn't with her, she missed him. That, for as strong as he was, he still got hurt and she should have been there to help him. She sees the burns. The scars. And promises to never leave him again.

It takes time, but their family heals. And Ursa gets to do what she always wanted. She takes her family to see plays. She gives them play scrolls to read and they discuss them once a week. She and Azula talk over tea. They're civil. It's the most they can do at the moment. But both are happy with it. She and Zuko feed the turtleducks. His friend now lives among them.

If we go with he named them Ursa, she cries when she finds out. If we go the Iroh or Lu route, Iroh has tears in his eyes and he laughs with joy. If we go with La, Azula appears indifferent but she gives La a bit more food.

And we all know how it ends:

Sokka: And after years of asking and asking and asking...

Sokka: I finally said "yes."

Zuko: Sokka.

Sokka: Okay, okay, I asked him.

#atla #atla zuko #ozai atla #atla tangled au #sun spirit zuko #azula atla #avatar gaang #zukka #I know I kinda go off with these but like #once I get an idea #I need all the details to make it happen #like; I can adjust things #but I had to get everything down before I forgot

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

Falling for you; Tom Holland x reader

*Author’s note*

And here we go with another fic this time I’m posting up a Tom Holland fic. So the premise of this is that you reader are the daughter of RDJ and have been chosen to be apart of Spider-man: Far from home. I won’t spoil anything else but that’s basic characteristics for you the reader. And like I said this isn’t the end. I’ll be posting some more fics coming up in the next little while.

Warnings: FLUFF, teasing dad!RDJ, injuries (falling off a wire).

Taglist:

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@dancingcoolcat

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

___________________________________________________________

It was like any other day on set. But being the daughter of the one and only Robert Downey Jr. the studio will treat you like royalty, even though I don't want to go to the extreme. And how did I manage to join the cast, well funny story actually for the next Spiderman movie Far from home Director Jon Watts wanted to introduce Peter Parker's new love interest, Carmen Dela Cruz otherwise known as "The Jaguar".

Much like the Black Panther character for speed and stamina, the Snow Leopard was introduced in Spiderman issue 312 number 2, a Latina character from Guatemala, she comes to America hoping to make a better life and save her family from a war that is going on so that they can make a better living in America.

She takes the mantle of "The Jaguar" when she was just 16 years old cause according to the comics, she was beaten and assaulted one night and left for dead but the spirit of the Jaguar warrior came to her and granted her the power and strength of all the jaguar warriors that came before her. She used her powers to get revenge on the gang that assaulted her and has vowed to protect any woman who is threated by assault. She's a protector of women and vows to never let anyone go through from what she went through.

She's teamed up with the Avengers in the past as well as Spiderman but you can see her majorly through the Black Panther comics as being a cat warrior herself, she looks up to T'Challa as a proud mentor and guide.

Now you may be thinking "AHH why another white-washing a character like this?" Well not true, cause you see my mom is actually from Guatemala herself, before my dad met his current wife Susan, after the divorce with his first wife, he met my mom and she ended up pregnant after a one night stand. But even after my birth, I've been constantly taken back and forth between both my parents even though they continued on with their lives and married different people.

But once I became 18, I permanently decided to stay near my dad's while I still visited with my mama. Now I have done acting in school and in college but this was my first breakout and my dad recommended me the part thinking I would be good at it.

So having seen Kevin and growing up with him ever since the beginning he and Jon both gave me a shot and after 2 callbacks, I got the part for Carmen and this would be her big debut onto the screen, as well as my own.

I was currently going over my new lines when I bumped into someone and that someone turned out to be none other than Tom Holland.

"Oh sorry (y/n)." He said.

"No, no it was my fault. Hey, did you get the new re-write of the script?"

"Yeah Jon just gave it to me actually, do you maybe want to go over some lines before we start filming?"

"Sure." We got together along the side and I said, "Can we go over pg.24 I'm having a hard time with that scene."

"Okay pg. 24 it is." We both opened our scripts to pg.24 and Peter first began his line. "What made you change your mind?"

"The same reason why I told you not to get involved with Mysterio in the first place. Maldito you Americans never listen to since or reason, particularly you white boys." I said in Carmen's thicker accent.

"You know, I think it's because you can't resist me. I mean twice in a row we've met you've saved me and always talked to me, even though you said this would be the last time you would."

"Don't be a fool, I'd never fall for someone as reckless as you, Spiderman. Anyone who listens to Stark is automatically a fool to me."

"Don't speak ill of Mr. Stark he is—he was the greatest man to ever live. He—he died a hero."

"I know he did, as did Captain Rogers." For this movie, Carmen always looked up to Steve Rogers as a child because he always knew what was best and he knew to never give up on a fight. He was her hero, even though she never got to meet him.

"Then tell me the real reason why you came and found me?" I turned towards Tom and seeing him so close to me, knowing that our character would eventually be together, but not by the end of this movie, I felt my heart flutter almost chanting out his name as I looked deeply into his eyes. I breathed heavily in character and turned away muttering incoherently in Spanish as it said in the script. "Carmen,"

He took my wrist and a shot of electricity shot up my arm. I turned back towards Tom and seeing him stand so close to me almost made me go weak at the knees. We stared into each other's eyes and just when Tom began to lean forward over a megaphone we both heard my dad's voice.

"Alright you two lovebirds on the set now!" I tensed up and turned towards my dad and flipped him the bird. "Don't you point that finger at me young lady or you're grounded!"

"I'm 20 years old dad you can't tell me nothing!" I cried back out to him. I turned towards Tom and said, "Well we better get to costume and makeup."

"Yeah guess we should." He said solemnly. We stood there in silence before he cried out as he took on ahead, "Race you!"

"Hey no fair you got a head start!"

Filming proceeded as planned, I was now being strapped onto some wires for the last big fight scene with Mysterio.

"You all good?" asked the stunt director.

"Yeah I'm all good. I can do this stunt Erik don't worry about it."

"Okay, but I'll have Stacey on standby should you need her." I nodded and saluted to my stunt double Stacey and Jon then told me how things were gonna go.

"Alright so Tom's already been swung into the crates, you come up from the top of the warehouse and meet up to Jake. All you need to do right now is just grab onto him, don't begin any of the fighting sequences yet, we'll work on that on the levitation bars."

"You got it Jon" I gave him a thumbs up.

"Alright you're all set." Aaron my wire guy said.

"Thanks dude."

"Alright clear the set please!" Jon said into his megaphone. I crouched down on my marker and waited for rolling and then action. "Quiet on the set please!" I took a couple of deep breaths and got into Carmen's mindset as I stared at Jake who was on wires just ahead of me. "And action!" The crates moved around which was my cue to jump out and just before I reached Jake, I let out the Jaguar Warrior cry but on my first take I totally missed Jake by like three feet.

The entire crew was laughing as were me and Jake.

"That was terrible!" I cried out. "Can that please be in the blooper reel!?" I laughed out.

"Reset let's go again!" Jon called out. I was then guided back to my cue point and I set myself down on the catwalk and went back to my marker. "Rolling, take 2! And.....action!" Th crates moved again and this time I jumped from a different angle and let out the Jaguar cry again and this time I managed to grip onto Jake. "Cut! Okay that was great! Let's just get one more for safety!". I released Jake and I was guided back to my catwalk.

But as I got there I noticed that one of the wires seemed a bit loose one me, with Jon starting from the top for a final take, I tried to hurry and tighten the wire as best I could and quickly got to my marker.

"Places please! And.....action!" The scene repeated itself and as I leapt out on cue, suddenly the wire snapped and I was dangling by one wire.

"Okay not good! Not good!"

"Cut! Get the mats under her now! Hang on (y/n)!" I looked towards Jake who was trying to come over towards me and he reached out telling me to take his hand. Just before I could grab it, my second wire snapped and I fell over 10 feet from the air and landed on the mat beneath me.

I let out a groan and soon I heard voices surrounding me and I heard emergency services telling everyone to back up and give them some room. I felt this sudden pain in my arm as I let out a scream of pure agony.

"We know sweetheart, we know but you have to lie still for us" one of them said as they began to examine me. "Broken shoulder, we have to get her to the hospital, get the gurney in here!" I was then set up on a gurney as I screamed and moaned in pain.

I was wheeled across the set and to an ambulance vehicle and I heard one of the men say.

"Now Ms. Downey, I'm gonna give you a sedative, it should help dull the pain and help you sleep. You'll be alright, we're taking you to the hospital now." Next thing I knew my vision was going fuzzy and then I went out like a light.

When I woke up, I found myself in the hospital with a sling over my arm and my shoulder bandaged.

"You're awake," I turned to my right and saw Tom standing before me, as well as Harrison and Zendaya.

"How you feeling chic?" asked Zendaya.

"A little funny, so what do I got?"

"You broke both your shoulder and your wrist in the fall plus a mild concussion. The doctors said you're lucky to be alive, most people falling from that height usually end up in a coma if not dead or multiple broken body parts."

"Gee thanks Harry" I said sarcastically.

"Good to know the Downey sarcasm is still intact." Zendaya praised.

"Hey guys could you give us a moment along please?" Tom asked. Zendaya and Harrison both looked at each other with a know it all grin before Zen said.

"Sure, fine."

"Don't have too much fun you two." I flipped them off as they left my room leaving Tom and I alone.

"How are you feeling?" he asked me.

"A bit in pain, but I've had worse, once I broke my leg when I was just 9 years old doing a risky bicycle stunt that my friends dared me to do. Boy dad was so pissed he never let me ride a bike again for 6 months."

"You serious?"

"Yeah." When I looked back up at Tom, I noticed that his eyes now held such worry and fear as he said.

"When you fell I—I was so worried that you'd....that you were gonna be.... I even tried to ride with you to the hospital but they wouldn't let me. God never before did I wish I really was Spiderman I—"

"Shhh it's okay Tom. It wasn't your fault. I should've spoken up and had the wiring guys tighten my wire before anything. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine." I then felt Tom take my free hand in his and I looked right back into his eyes again.

And damn that heartrate monitor because it was starting to spike up and I let out a groan of embarrassment to which Tom softly chuckled and he said.

"If it helps you feel better, my heart would probably be doing the exact same thing." I looked at him and he continued, "When I first met you I—I thought you were the prettiest girl I've ever seen, I know the press always says that it's me and Zendaya but truthfully I hope and pray that once Far from home comes out that they'll start to say you and me. God I hope I didn't freak you out or ruin this friendship because I—" I stopped him with a kiss.

He placed his hands on my cheeks as the kiss got a little deeper before I finally separated from him.

"You're so much like Peter, you ramble on too much." He chuckled nervously and he said.

"So....when you're released do you—wanna go out for coffee or something?"

"Coffee sounds wonderful, Parker." I teased using Carmen's accent as I said Parker.

"Cara mia Carmen." He leaned in and kissed me once more. Just before anything could go further we both heard my dad's voice say.

"Alright you two, don't be sucking each other's faces off!" We separated from each other and we both cleared our throats in embarrassment.

"Really dad?"

"Hey! Be thankful that once you two lovebirds got together I was gonna allow hand holding and little pecks but after my virgin eyes have been tainted with what I had just seen I may not allow any PDA at all." I shook my head at him and I turned my attention back to Tom and he smiled down at me as he took my hand in his and gave my knuckles a kiss.

Man I wish my release would come faster, I really could use that coffee right about now.

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sirensmojo · 4 years

Text

“Glory Or Valhalla”, 4/5

Summary: You’re a Valkyrie that ended up on earth found by Ivar The Boneless. As soon as he discovered you lying on a hidden spot on the beach, he brought you to the seer that explained “your home wasn’t far nor near Kattegat”, and that it would be better for the new King if he looked after you until your memories come back to you.

Ivar The Boneless x Reader (romantic) / Hvitserk x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: fluff, Norse mythology mentions & adventure

Word Count: 2,464

❰ Previous Chapter II Masterlist

"I don’t care about Ivar’s decisions Y/n, not when I’m here," Hvitserk stated, his tone wasn’t aggressive, but he was firm in his intentions, and they were not to help Kattegat’s people.

"It’s not about him, it’s about the people there, your people as well. You can take care of the Ulfhednar here, and the people of Kattegat. Both are Vikings, aren’t they?" You lifted one brow at him. "I now understand why you failed at resonating with Ivar”. “Wha-why?”, “You try to insufflate ideas into people’s brain as if it was their own, if I can see it, he too can," responded the ragnarson. "There still is a question about that whole situation in my head, would you mind if I ask you?" You motioned your head in frustration, as your lids shut closed, not need to mention you ignored his remark. "Here is the Y/n I know, polite and worried about others’ feelings, so it was indeed Fenrir’s presence.” “How did you reached Asgard? And how did you managed to get my sword out?" You ignored his remark again, but not because it was mean, rather because he was right. "He called out to me,” “Why?” “He said, as Ivar was the chosen one of Odin, I’ll be his chosen one, because-” “You always doubt the existence of fate and try to live by experience and not by omens," you cut him off. His eyes widened a bit as he heard your words, and you surmise it was because they were those of the Giant Wolf. "I’ve admired you for that since I got to Midgard," you openly let out. But you kept to yourself the fact you admired him even more for what you’ve discovered about him today. "And my sword? No one could touch it but me as long as I can remember” “Your energy was gone when you left Asgard, so it was as manageable as any other swords.” “Can I get it back?" You solely asked, and he held you its handle without hesitation. When your hand encountered the metallic grip, a vivid light located on the sharp side revealed embedded signs and runs. You surely forgot how heavy she was, but quickly got used to it. It was like you were made for her, and she for you. You stretched your arm until the tip of your weapon touched the man’s chin, and laugh at the face he was making. "You should see your face right now," you commented as you drew back your swords and swung it above your head, and finally to your side. Your movements were agile, precise, and smooth. You eventually got a proper sword, you could train with it rather than with the miserable knives you were dragging everywhere. "I will help you, I mean Kattegat. But not because of your words. Only because it’s clear Fenrir got something with you, and I owe him a lot," he simply responded. "Thank you," you offered him a smile. "There is it!" He hassled to point your face with his index. "What?! What, where?!" You started to twist and turn in your seat, not knowing the hell he was talking about.

"The smile," he raised his brows, and you lightly hit his chest. "Argh! Fuck off!”

five days later.

You're back in Kattegat, Fenrir, and Hvitserk at your sides. The three horses finally stepped in the city when you huffed noisily and loudly. "If I have to ride for another five days, or even less, I'm heading back to Valhalla... or Asgard," you stated as you got down your mount.

As soon as your feet touched the ground, Ivar appeared out of nowhere. "I thought you'll never come back," he curtly said, looking right at you. You glanced at the two men accompanying you, but they ignored you. "Well, I'm back," you tried your best not to sound too harsh but the 9 days of ride had gotten on your nerves, you didn't need an angry Ivar right now. His piercing eyes got under your skin as well as needles would. You hurriedly gathered your things and walked past him to sign him to follow you.

Once in the Great Hall he dismissed everyone, even the guards, and went to close the doors before turning your way. You were prepared for the volcano to explode loudly, but instead, Ivar closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "What did you have in mind, Y/n? Huh?" He surprisingly said with a calm voice. "You took actions behind my back and did whatever to those men that stood right there," you pointed the center of the room. "I learn it by warriors speaking about revenge, leaving the city and hide in villages. Who is about to protect those who stayed here, Ivar? Your angry temper, perhaps?" You lifted a brow as you bend your head forward. "You're acting as you want Ivar, I have nothing to say, but I am from Kattegat too, I maybe not talking to those who stand out there every day, but I care about them more than I care about my arse. And as their King, you too should," "So you're leaving an entire week, and all we're talking about is Kattegat?" He screamed this time, eyes wide open. You serenely walk to him, and as his lips parted at the proximity he craved for these past few days, your palm ends up on his cheek in a thud. "I thought you were acting stupid, but indeed you are," you grit your teeth. At first, Ivar's eyes showed surprise. It was the first time he got slapped by a woman or just slapped. When he realized what you did, anger took over, eventuates in him clenching his jaw, and grab your throat. "What now, my King?" You made fun of him, pushing him way beyond the edges. His eyes darkened even more, but you showed no surrender and pushed his shoulder to the back violently. "I said, what now?" You screamed. It was the first time you did so since you arrived in Kattegat. Ivar pushed your whole body to the nearest table and made you sat on its bench before he let go of you and hobbles to the opposite side of the room, screaming his anger out.

"I was hoping for another response, but still," you murmured. Seeing the Viking going crazy wasn't a pleasing sight, but it was better than fight him because you know it would've been the exit if he didn't release your throat. Hearing your words, he was even madder and angry, not only at you but mostly at himself, for taking decisions with haste and with anger in his heart. But what can he do other than that? Nothing was in there beside resentment and madness. Dismissing with a sweep of his hand, anything that his free hand encountered, he dropped cups, ale, carafes, food, even a table when the front doors opened on Fenrir and Hvitserk. Hvitserk enters the Hall looking Ivar, before glancing at you. You exhaled fully and managed to get up and stretched to Ivar, hands on his shoulders. "Ivar," you began. The man calmed a bit and ceased screaming. You motioned to the two men to come in, but you pull the Viking King in his chambers. "They left three days after your departure," "What happened?" You asked, you knew damn well your absence wasn't the cause of the mess he made earlier. Something occurred. "Didn't you hear me? My warriors left town, the city is at the mercy of whoever wants it, and I can't do anything to stop this. "I got it," "What?" he dared to look up to you, his broken voice being the testimony of his ache.

"Your back, Ivar"

"You were right. They don't respect me, I'm no King, even less a God." "A god? I thought that was rumors," you indeed heard about how Ivar sang everywhere he was a god, but as you were occupied training or searching for info of your past, you didn't dwell that much on the matter. "So, you truly thought you were a god?" "It doesn't matter now, Y/n," he bluntly responded. "Of course it matters, who you want to be matters," you stated. And all of a sudden, you remember the words of his brother.

"He said, as Ivar was the chosen one of Odin[...]"

"Odin’s with you Ivar, regardless of your decisions, it's not about what your father said, it's about being King and act accordingly," you added, and the man hummed. "I catch vent of an army reaching our coast on the west," Ivar revealed. You save him saying you already knew it would happen, and simply stated you brought backups. "That's the reason why you left?" He asked with a high pitched tone. "Why else?" You retorted as if he said the silliest thing ever. "Well, I thought you left," he lowly spoke. "No," you raised your brows, biting your lip. You moved forwards and grabbed the Viking's hands. You sat on his lap and encircled his neck with your arms, searching for his eyes. He didn't wait any more seconds and crashed his lips to yours, sending chills down your spine. His fingers fiddled with your messy hair as yours fondled each part of his face. Your two breathes mixed up when your foreheads joined in a desperate need for proximity. You kissed him once more, making sure to encounter his tongue this time, and got up.

The thought of Ivar meeting Fenrir popped into your mind, your heart surely missed one beat, making you drawback. The reason why you left Asgard and the reason why you wanted to stay in Midgard.

"Come on, we got company," you motioned to Ivar, so he would get up and follow you. When you appear in the Great all, Fenrir was standing with half a dozen warriors, looking straight forward. Hvitserk was leaning on a beam not too far from the line of warriors. You glimpse at the man behind you to gauge his reaction. His eyes were all round of curiosity. No animosity, that was a good start. Once he hobbled to his throne and sat on it, he dropped the back of his hand to the armrest and opened it. With his fingers invited you to join him. You heatedly climb toward the thrones and stand by his side, intertwining your fingers with his. You’d always preferred to stay up by his side, instead of sitting on the throne next to his, you and he were partners, and friends, no needs for formalities like marriage, but that meant no right to sit on the throne dedicated to the Queen. "Who are you?" loudly asked your Viking. "I am Fenrir, Leader of the Ulfhednar, and here are my most wise and fierce commandants.” "Fenrir," Ivar repeated. You and Hvitserk glanced at each other at the same time, hoping for the trick to work.

"Just as the Giant Wolf?" "Hmm" nonchalantly nodded Fenrir.

Definitely, he needed to be taught how to talk with humans, it was like he wasn't making any effort. Okay he's so powerful he doesn't need to ever get angry as he knows for sure he will crash the source of annoyance, but it wasn't a good reason enough to act as if instead of emotions, he got an infinite void. Then you remembered about his vacant eyes and simply pressed your free hand on your forehand in a huff. You wondered if Ivar will fall for this ruse and hoped for the Giant Wolf not to show his white eyes. The Viking King was too focused on the unusual persons in front of him to notice your worries, and thanks the gods for that. "4 women and 3 men, those are your wiser and fiercer warriors?" Ivar cast a carb, and you glared at him, but by his gaze, you understood he only tested the foreigners before him.

"Perhaps you'd like to fight one of them?" Solely asked Fenrir, and you scoffed. Their eyes turned to you and you offered them a warm smile, "I would hate to be your opponent, in battle and in single combat," you childishly giggled. The warriors' eyes stayed on you a while. They asked themselves why you would say something like that when everyone in the room knew you could simply blow them off like dead leaves in autumn. In fact, everyone but one person was aware of your real power, and you weren't ready yet to tell Ivar about your new founds about your identity and your past. He had his own problems to deal with, supernatural wasn't something he needed now. But you promised yourself when the time is right, you will tell him the truth.

That's exactly what you discuss with Hvitserk and Fenrir when riding your horse before entering the city.

"I will be the one talking to him about who Fenrir is and what my past is about. The only thing that's on you, Hvitserk, is the fact you're the Leader of an even greater Heathen Army than Ivar," you stated as a commandment. "In the scheme, Fenrir will be the Leader. I will feign not knowing him." "What if he asks about were you were those last few days?" You furrowed your brows, stretching both your legs, taking advantage of the slow pace you adopted to be able to chat.

"Believe me, you being gone is so much more of a big deal than my last whereabouts" scoffed Hvitserk, and your nose wrinkled at the simple idea of having a fight with Ivar.

"What are you?" "Vikings, King Ivar, from the North's remote land, and we're here to face the adversity you may encounter as one people, even if, we will cease the alliance as soon as your enemies are slaughtered." The beginning of its speech has started well, but hearing the last words, your smile vanished and you instantly look up to Hvitserk, which smirk spoke for itself. "You bastards," words left your mouth so quick you can’t muffle your voice. Ivar squeezed your hand and glanced at you, "My love! Let's welcomed our guests as best as we could, huh? Can you fetch the thralls?" He tried to make-up your hostility with hospitality. "Yes, of course, my love," you fake smiled at him and climb down the stairs before leaving the hall. When you got out, you opened your fists, prints of your nails drew deep inside your skin. "we will cease the alliance as soon as your enemies are slaughtered," you curtly repeated.

"From Hvitserk's smirk and Fenrir's seriousness, that means they will attack us right after filling the holes in our half-empty army," your jaws clenched together.

Following Chapter ❱

#ivar the boneless #vikings #ivar the boneless x reader #mythology

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escapingreality1992 · 4 years

Text

The Guardian Angel Program

What happened between Civil War and Infinity War with Team Captain America and Natasha Romanoff? This is my take on it. A program was created to shelter superheroes. Angel Welsh is one of the many who have a safe house to do so. She’s what the program calls a Guardian Angel, though she’s not a traditional angel. She comes from a legacy of angels and agrees to house a few members of team Captain America. She’s taken care of Natasha before, so she has no problem. As time goes on, Steve and Angel grow closer and fall in love.

A/N: For the purpose of this story, I’ve gone a little off canon and have Steve Rogers returning as his younger self rather than the old man Steve we see in Endgame. I wanted them to continue to go on living with each other. I still kept both Natasha and Tony’s deaths in this, though.

An angel’s job is to protect people from dangers they may face. Sometimes it’s their duty to hide them from their foes. When someone needs to lay low, they can provide shelter from those looking for them. In ancient times, they weren’t made for love. They were made to fight to provide assistance when needed. To strike down enemies bent on causing corruption in the world. Sometimes to deliver important messages from up above. No feelings involved.

Modern times were different nowadays. A program was created to provide protection for innocents and superheroes. Though, not all of the agents in the program were actual angels. Some of the were, warriors created from legend. Being an angel meant something else entirely. To protect, of course. To hide people, sure; now you could fall in love with your soulmate, legendary warriors included in the mix.

When superheroes needed to lay low for a while, we were there to provide a kind of safe house – or houses – to shelter them from whoever they were hiding from. The government, enemies, old lovers, etc. To become an angel – warrior or guardian – there were particular skills you needed to possess or have done to qualify for the job. Skills like weapon use, training in hand-to-hand combat, powers that could be useful to protect. Some had to have protected innocents in the past. Others having healing powers to heal enhanced superheroes or beings.

Another option could be you were born into a line of angels. Trained to become one yourself. The leaders were harsher on the legacies. They treated them much like the warriors from above. Some failed, some passed. That’s how it was. I had been lucky enough to be born into one such family, lucky enough to pass their tests. I’d had my fair share of heroes to look after, both during my childhood and the beginning of my adult life. I came equipped with all knowledge of weapon use, including swords, – both long and short, two handed and one handed – daggers, as well as some modern weapons; for instance, guns and tech similar to Tony Stark’s creations or alien tech in case there came a time they needed to be used.

I also possessed minor healing abilities, limited to deeper wounds rather than shallow cuts, bruises and broken bones. Additionally, I wasn’t what you called a traditional angel. The irony behind this is my family had the good sense to name me Angel. I know, I know. A guardian angel named Angel, who was not in fact a halo-wearing, white robe, right hand of God angel. I am, in fact a good, old-fashioned, young mortal; one of the chosen to look after those with super abilities.

We’re told from the beginning not to pick favorites. You know, in case they die – under your watch or not. Yes, it can happen, nothing you can do about it if it does. They don’t punish you if it does, especially if the hero in question has a hand in a necessary battle. Too bad, I already had one favorite. No one needed to know, a secret I kept to myself. Natasha Romanoff, a.k.a. Black Widow happened to be the one favorite I kept in my records. She had stayed multiple times, most being just to visit instead of hiding. It also didn’t help matters that we had become good friends; best friends in fact. Like Clint, who she would sometimes bring along.

Though, he only came a few times before he started a family of his own. Nat still came of her own accord when she needed it or if she wanted a long-time vacation. Who could blame her? I did have the safe house located at the beach in Oak Island, North Carolina. Speaking of the safe house, I should tell you each house comes warded and shielded against those who don’t require it or hosted it. My particular one had plenty of rooms; ten for bigger parties.

Business had been quiet for a while, no one needing a hideout. Nat didn’t visit for fun, her schedule a bit busy for one at the moment. Until I got a call from a friend of hers. The same call which would bring me face to face with the love of my life.

One Month after the Events of Civil War

Steve’s POV “Here. Give this number a call,” Natasha said. She tossed me a business card, which hit me square in the chest, falling to the floor. I bent to pick it up and inspected it.

“Angel Welsh. Guardian Angel, Protector of Heroes. Nat, what the hell is this? A new recruit. How does it help with my problem?” I asked. She rolled her eyes in answer.

“I know you’re worried about hiding away from Ross. You need a place to lay low for a while. So, do I, though it might only be a few weeks before I want to return to Russia. She runs a safe house in Oak Island. I’ve used it several times. There’s no one like her. She’s one of the best I’ve encountered when it comes to hideouts,”

“I don’t know. Is she an actual angel? What if she plans on striking us down?” I asked.

“She’s human. She’s not going to hurt us. Look, the house is warded and shielded from people who are trying to find heroes. We can stay for as long as we want. There’s plenty of room,” She continued. I glanced down at the card, trying to come to a decision.

“Steve. Angel can help us. Besides, when do we ever get to go on vacation. It’s at the beach of all places. We go south, breathe in the salt air. Try to relax. Until we can come out of hiding or if we need to,” Nat said. I took a deep breath. She managed to persuade me in making my choice. I knew she was right and pulled out my phone to dial.

Angel’s POV

My phone rand and I answered it, expecting another boring assignment.

“Guardian Angel Welsh speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hello,” a male voice spoke. He went silent for a while, I wondered if he hung up. Then his voice came back over the speaker. “My name is Steve Rogers. A few others and I need a place to lay low for a while,” he continued. Contain your excitement. Be professional, I thought. This was Captain America and he was planning on staying with me. A legend with a legacy.

“How many others? When you be arriving?” I asked.

“Uh, five. That’s including me. I’m not sure. Give us three days,” Steve said.

“Names. I’ve got yours, but who else is in your company?” I said. I needed to record everything and prepare for the others he was bringing along.

“Wanda Maximoff,” Ah, the woman who accidentally caused casualties in Lagos. “Sam Wilson,” Falcon. Hmm, sounds like they’re running from the Accords. “Vision, Natasha-,” The other name I didn’t recognize but when he said Natasha, I knew my best friend would be here as well.

“Romanoff? You’re bring other heroes with you? I didn’t realize you were friends with Nat,” I interrupted. A pause. Did I scare him off? “She gave me this number. Said you were the best she’s come in contact with,”

“It must be urgent if she gave you my personal number rather than the programs. There are certain protocols you’re supposed to go through, and they assign you based on priority or urgency. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. If you can, get here earlier than you intend. Welcome to the Guardian Angel Program, Mr. Rogers,” I said. I ended the call and prepared everything needed for this assignment.

Two Days Later (They took my advice)

The buzz of the intercom echoed in the house alerting me to their arrival. At least, he had the sense to come early than he intended, I thought. I opened the door and Natasha was the first to greet me. She threw her arms around my neck, squeezing me tight. She stepped back, allowing the rest of the company to come inside, luggage carried behind them.

“Angel! Long time, no see. How have you been?”

“Bored. I’ve been less busy than usual. Everyone has. No assignments were sent out for a few weeks. Take your regular room. I’m going to give the rest the tour,” I told her. She flitted off and I turned my attention to the rest of them. Two guys, one woman, and…I cocked my head examining the other…man.

“That’s Vision. He’s…well, I guess you can say he’s a robot. A sort of artificial intelligence created by…” the blonde guy explained.

“Tony Stark. Must have been a terrible break-up,” I said.

“How-,”

“Natasha tells me everything, much like Clint tells her things. Come along. I’ll show you the house and assigned rooms. Set your things down by the couch. You can take them up later,” I cut him off once more.

“Shouldn’t we introduce ourselves?” the other guy said.

“You introduced me to Vision already. Wanda is the only other woman included on the phone, so she’s easy. You’re Sam Wilson, also known as Falcon. Which leaves you,” I gestured to the blonde man. “You must be Steve Rogers. I also do my research. I have to be able to recognize the heroes or people that come under my protection. Follow me,” I answered. They shared a look, unsure whether or not to trust me.

“I don’t bite. Not much anyway. You’re safe here. The people after you won’t find you. I promise. Try to relax,” I said. To show I meant no harm, I linked my arm through Wanda’s and walked her to the kitchen and began the tour of the house.

“Natasha has the best room in the house. Since she’s a frequent visitor, she has seniority over it when she’s here. If you want to visit on your own, it’ll go to one of you. Wanda, I’ve given you the second best, right next to hers. It has a view of the ocean and a balcony. Sam, Vision, you’re upstairs on the third floor. Though, you don’t have a view of the ocean up there. Steve, your room is across from mine,” I said. I went to the liberty of showing them their room, delight showing on their faces.

“Wait, if this is your home, why don’t you have the best room?” Sam asked me.

“Ah, because, my room gives me access to both the pool and the beach. I can open the sliding glass door next to my bed and walk out on the deck to find the stairs for both,” I explained. To prove my point, I opened the back door on the second floor and showed the exact door to my room.

“Now, on to the outside. This is the walkway to the beach and those stairs lead to the pool. Car port is next to the pool and there are two outdoor showers in case you decide you would rather clean up in the salt air. It’s quite refreshing if you ask me,”

“That’s all there is. Feel free to unpack and do what you want. Oh, one more thing. Nat and I will be going out to the store to grab supplies. If there is anything you need or would like to request, please provide us a list and leave it on the kitchen counter downstairs. Also, the rec room is on the bottom floor, down the hallway and the second door on the left. It has a movie theater and a billiards table that doubles as a card table,” I said. Everyone dispersed, except for Steve.

“Thank you for helping us. I appreciate it Miss Welsh,” he said.

“Call me Angel. It’s no problem. It is my job after all. Do me a favor and try not to get too attached. You will have to leave here at some point,” I told him.

“I can assure you I won’t, but thanks for the warning,” he said.

One Month Later

Steve’s POV

When we first arrived at Angel’s safe house, I’d been nervous to say the least. Nervous about being found here and nervous something bad would happen if we were. On the arrival, I realized I was also nervous around Angel. She was gorgeous; Long, dark brown hair with light brown ends and the prettiest gold-green eyes I had ever seen before. If the light hit them just right, they almost looked like a rainbow shining out at us. I shut out my feelings right then, focusing on trying to relax in a new place.

After two weeks, the tension eased a little. We were still hidden, and no trouble came for us. There were a couple of movie nights and card nights, which had us all becoming closer as friends. Natasha had left a week after, receiving a call about the Black Widow program rebooting and she wanted to put an end to it. She flew back to Russia and I wondered if I would be seeing her again. Wanda and Vision had also requested permission to leave, heading to Scotland to spend more time together. Alone.

Though, they thought we didn’t notice, they were finally together as a couple. They wanted to pursue it more and they felt they couldn’t do that if we were around. This left Sam and I alone with Angel. We managed to have fun between the three of us going to the beach or going out to get food.

I worried we would be recognized going out, but Angel assured us we would be fine. No one in the town knew about us. The names maybe, but I guess they didn’t pay too much attention to our appearances to put the name to the face.

There were times when Angel and I spent nights alone together. Movie nights when Sam didn’t want to join, pool days when Sam wanted to go to the beach. I had to admit, she relaxed me when I didn’t think it possible. The tension would release from my muscles when she was around, and it wasn’t because she knew how to massage us to ease that tension. It was when she started up a deep conversation between Sam and me that I started to see her more than a friend. I tried to push back my feelings, knowing the inevitable move would come and I wouldn’t be able to see her anymore. The more I pushed them back, the more they grew, and I came to the realization I was now in trouble of falling for her.

We were now a month in, and I felt more relaxed than I had in a couple years. I chose today to lounge by the pool. I made a few laps until I decided to lay out in the sun for a while. All the noise drowned out, my body going limp as I pushed away all thoughts of work, of battles; stress melted away piece by piece. I breathed deep, the salt air filling my nostrils and providing me with more calmness. So much so that I didn’t hear anyone approach me.

“Steve? Do you want some lunch?” a voice asked. Angel’s voice. She startled me and the second her hand came into contact with my shoulder, I opened my eyes and flipped her, pinning her body against my chair. In doing this, I had allowed our bodies to be pressed close, our lips a breath apart; our chests heaving as the chemistry heated up between us.

“I guess this teaches me not to sneak up on people,” she stated. Her voice rasped, sparking heat which coursed throughout my entire body.

“Sorry. I…Let me get off of you,” I told her. I was reluctant to move but did anyway allowing her to sit up. The sparkle of her gold-green eyes met mine; I fought the urge to push her back down and kiss her. Fought the same urge to remove out clothes and make love to her by the pool.

“You looked pretty relaxed. Careful, I don’t want you falling in love with me,” She said. Too late. I might be on my way there, I thought.

“Don’t worry. That won’t happen,” I lied. I’d been harboring my crush for the past two weeks. I wouldn’t reveal my feelings until the right moment.

“Oh. Good. Uh…Did you want lunch? I made sandwiches for the beach. I thought I’d come by and see if you wanted some. There’s also a few beers in the cooler if you want one,” she said. Her teasing smile had faltered making me wonder if she was secretly harboring a crush on me as well.

“Sure. Thanks, Angel,” She handed me a couple bags of turkey and cheese sandwiches and two beers before she left towards the beach. Damn it, Steve. You should have kissed her, I thought.

Four Months Later

Angel’s POV Sam was the next to leave, Steve being the only one left at the safe house. There was one week, he left to check up on his best friend; Bucky Barnes. Steve had told me all about him; how they were childhood friends and how they were there for each other. I knew the name, the assassin responsible for over a dozen deaths. I also suspected he had been brainwashed, making Bucky a victim of HYDRA’s plans to take over the country. I also knew he was being rehabilitated in order to not be triggered anymore.

This did nothing for my feelings for Steve. What’s that familiar phrase? Distance makes the heart grow fonder. I had been unusually happy when he had returned from Wakanda and cursed myself for crushing on my assignment. Sure, you couldn’t get in trouble for it, but I hadn’t wanted to mix my work life with my personal life. Friends were one thing, but a romantic relationship was another. Which only made the next time I ran into Steve a little more awkward than it should have been.

“Hey, Steve? Want to make a trip to the store? We could grab pizza…” I walked in his room to find him shirtless, the signs of a beard coming in. The sight stopped me dead in my tracks. “…on the way back,” I finished. I felt my cheeks heat up, a sign I was blushing. It was hard not to stare; harder not to blush deeper. He met my eyes, but not before they raked over my body. My throat went dry, my core pooling from the action.

“Sure. I’ll put on a shirt and we’ll go. Want to watch a movie tonight?” he answered. I’d rather take you on that bed right this instant. Ride you until dawn, I thought.

“That sounds perfect. Maybe, we can tick off one from your list,” is what came out.

“Perhaps. Let’s go,” We picked up the necessary supplies and decided to split a margherita pizza while starting a Star Wars marathon. I tried not to steal glances at him. Really tried not to. My eyes kept drifting though. Next came the scenarios and boy, were they naughty.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to have to strip you naked and play with you on this couch,” he said. Damn, he caught me.

“I can’t help it. You gave me quite a sight this afternoon,” I stated. He shut off the movie – we were on Empire Strikes Back – and turned to face me. He grabbed my hands and pulled them under his shirt to touch him.

“Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me and I’ll stop,” he said. He dragged my hands over his stomach to his chest and back down again, until they rested at the waistband of his sweats.

“I can’t tell you that. I would be lying to you. I want you. I need you so much it hurts,” I told him. The next moment his lips were on mine, his body pushing me back on the couch. We practically ripped each other’s clothes off, out movements rushed and rough. Fully naked, he trailed kisses down my body, his beard scratching me between my thighs. His tongue found my core, and I moaned, tugging his hair. He rubbed my clit before pushing them inside me, coaxing me to my first orgasm.

He wasted no time, coming back up to kiss me as he sheathed his cock inside my pussy. He thrust hard and fast, my nails digging into his skin. He came, followed by my second orgasm, then he flipped us; Steve laid on his back, allowing me to ride him. We didn’t stop until exhaustion took over and I collapsed on his chest, his cock still inside me.

“I want you to be mine, but I think we should keep this quiet. To be safe and not used to an enemy’s advantage,” he said.

“Agreed,” I told him.

2018 – The Beginning of Infinity War

Steve’s POV

We kept our relationship a secret until we couldn’t anymore. Everyone caught on to it, exposing our love life. Around that point, we didn’t want it to be quiet any longer. We were ready to show the world the love we had for each other. Things were going great. We checked in on everyone. Natasha and Sam came to visit; Wanda and Vision stayed in Scotland becoming closer. Angel came to visit Bucky with me in Wakanda.

I had made plans to propose to her. I had the ring, the plan to get her alone to do it. It would be on the beach and I had a beautiful speech worked out. It would be perfect. It was meant to be today. Until the world collapsed. There was a phone call; Wanda and Vision were in trouble and Natasha, Sam and I had to go rescue them. Another one followed. Bruce Banner; the world is in trouble. Thanos is coming. We weren’t ready. We never were. An Avenger’s job is to protect innocents. We thought we could win. How wrong we were.

Angel’s POV

Love hit Steve and me hard. We got caught up in it. It made us blind to potential dangers. We wanted to explore a future together. We thought we could. We had been wrong. Everything happened so fast. Steve had come in looking nervous about something. I had a suspicion he may have wanted to propose. In a different way altogether. Then his phone rang. His expression changed; Nervous, shock, worry. It darkened to something more serious. He hung up. It rang again. It darkened more. Danger. For the world.

“What is it? What’s happened?” I asked. I reached out, placed a hand on his shoulder.

“War. Thanos is coming. He means to wipe out half the planet…planets. Wanda and Vision are in trouble. I have to go,” A pause, a sigh. “I hate to do it this way. There was a plan, but I need to leave right away. I can’t without asking an important question,”

“Steve? I…”

“Angel, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” he proposed. Maybe it hadn’t been ideal for the both of us, how he wanted it, but we had no other option. I didn’t want to be without him.

“Yes. I will,” I accepted. He opened the box and pulled out the ring, sliding it on my finger.

“Go save your friends. Come back to me when you can. I love you,” I told him. We kissed. He left. They lost.

Everything.

The Aftermath – Five Years Later

For five years, I provided comfort to Steve and Natasha. For five years, I watched the grief consume them. We didn’t marry. Not yet. He wanted everyone to be part of the ceremony. He was hurting. He wanted Bucky there and Wanda, Vision, Sam. Too much pain. For anyone. The saving grace had been Scott Lang. A plan formed.

Time travel and again I was left alone until he came back. A sacrifice and Natasha had died. More grief, more pain. Still, they had to move on. Bring the rest of them back. This time I fought. Swords and all. This time we won. Another sacrifice had been made; Tony Stark. A greater heartbreak for them. A funeral had been held and Steve needed to return the stones. When he returned, he passed down his title to Sam. Then there was a small ceremony for us. Wanda, Sam, Bucky, and Clint had joined us. A moment of silence for Nat and Vision was given. We continued living. It was what they would have wanted.

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kittypryde-bipride · 3 years

Text

limbo

Trouble finds them – it’s never far behind Ed, even these days – and their peaceful days in Ishval are brought to a brutal end.

They’re being attacked by a group of rogue militants who had been loyal to Bradley, a mixed collection of soldiers and just a few alchemists, and they tear apart the start of the society they had been trying to build.

The moment there was a sign of trouble, Hohenheim and Catherine both pulled Ed between them in a desperate bid to keep him safe- there’s a day that he would’ve done the same for someone else, back when his automail arm was an asset rather than a liability and he could use his alchemy and creativity to turn the tide of any fight, but now he’s the one considered the weakest link and he’s getting pissed. There’s something to be said for his notoriety, but it’s liable to make things worse: the already gruesome scene could be made worse by the sight of the Fullmetal Alchemist, famous for his role in defeating Bradley and desertion of the military. Still, it’s not Ed’s way to hide from a fight.

He surveys the area around them, the structures they’d spent weeks toiling over being reduced to sand by horrifically grinning alchemists with some ready-made arrays, ragtag soldiers still wearing their blues wielding massive guns and turning them towards anyone who steps out of line.

All of their warriors were slaughtered years ago during the genocide and the remnants of Ishval gathered here are not fighters- they’re tough and wise, having witnessed horrors greater than anyone ever should, but they’re not fighters. There are no alchemists here but Hohenheim and Scar to turn the tide of battle, and those two are easily kept at bay by the soldiers pointing weapons at the more helpless Ishvalans present. Both of them are too weak to do the damage necessary- Hohenheim has grown old, over the past year, and Scar has not fully recovered from his fight with Bradley.

The remnants of Bradley’s regime finally recognize Hohenheim and Catherine uses her impossible strength to keep Ed pressed to her, hand pressed hard over his eyes as she struggles to keep him from following his dad- she doesn’t want him to see whatever happens.

After writhing furiously in her arms, he squirms enough that he manages to get his eyes on Hohenheim, just in time these soldiers firing a bullet into his chest at point-blank range.

Catherine’s arms loosen in shock, for just a moment, but it’s enough for Ed to break free and run to his dad. His breath is coming in fast, wheezing and clenching at his chest, and Hohenheim is breathing heavily too.

“N-no,” Edward says brokenly, ignoring the glares of the soldiers around him- it feels like time has slowed, has stopped for just the two of them. He looks up and sees the cold eyes of these murderers frozen as they glare towards him, sees Cat stopped with terror in her eyes and hands stretched towards him, Scar staring at him in silent resignation and regret. “I just got you back, Dad, I can’t-”

Hohenheim grasps Ed’s hand and smiles weakly, blood trailing out of his mouth. “It’s okay, Edward.”

But it’s not okay- Ed can practically feel the life draining out of Hohenheim, can tell that whatever bit of sacrificed souls that had been powering this Philosopher’s Stone has finally run dry, after thousands of years.

The moment is passing – whatever time these souls had granted them will be over soon, he can feel them practically screaming at him, telling him to do something while he’s got the chance – and Ed can see the worry in Hohenheim’s eyes as he glances towards the scattered Ishvalans, preparing for death.

“Ed-Edward,” he gasps, clinging to Ed’s hand ever tighter. “Help them, please.”

He feels rather than sees when time restarts and things start moving around them – Cat cries out for him, the last remnants of a nation are holding onto whatever hope of survival they can grasp, a soldier grabs the back of his shirt and tries to yank him away from his dying dad – and Edward screams, a raw and guttural thing.

Tears are streaming down his face and he’s terrified but the only thing he can seem to think is what will Al do if he lets their father die in vain, if he leaves him alone?

He grips tightly onto Hohenheim’s shirt and knows that he has to do something – but he’s useless without his alchemy – because these people are good, and he won’t let himself be connected to another total annihilation of a culture. He is one of the last pieces of Xerxes and he is burdened with the responsibility to protect the world from those same mistakes. He can do this.

His dad is the most powerful alchemist to ever live, but he was never human- Ed’s not really human, either. Hohenheim is a living Philosopher’s Stone, even weak as he is now, and the whole purpose of the stone is to circumvent the rules of the gate. For better or for worse, Ed is half Philosopher’s Stone- he was born to be an exception, rather than a rule.

It’s just like in Briggs, when he broke down his existence to a stone powered by a single soul, and he can see into Hohenheim, just like he did when he broke apart Pride.

It’s fighting him, it hurts to do this, but he forges forward and slams his hands into the Philosopher’s Stone that is his father, and pictures the metal guns in the soldier’s hands warping into something useless. He goes further and weakens the sand beneath these destructive alchemist’s feet, sinking them to their shoulders and trapping them so they can destroy nothing more. He grins, drinking in this power he’d thought was lost forever, and reconstructs the buildings they’d spent weeks on in mere seconds, building them tall and strong and beautiful. It feels so good and he looks up finally, to survey what he’s done, and he realizes his surroundings are—

-shining, all-encompassing white.

His pulse quickens and he spins around to see Truth’s twisted grin, a glowing silhouette made humanoid by Ed’s missing arm and leg, and Hohenheim’s gone.

“Hello, Edward Elric,” Truth drawls, their mouth stretching wide in an imitation of a smile. “Fancy meeting you, again. It’s funny- I’d thought we’d agreed there’d be no more of these visits.”

“I,” Ed starts, immediately panicked. He just reneged on an agreement with a god, and Truth has never cared about intention- he might be leaving Al alone, despite his greatest efforts. “I had to help them, my dad-”

Truth laughs, cutting him off. “I didn’t say I was mad about it. I like seeing you- you’re interesting. If you’re smart enough to perform alchemy without a gate, who am I to stop you?”

Ed takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself now that there doesn’t seem to be any immediate danger anymore. It doesn’t quite work. “Then…why am I here? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well, you did go back on our deal,” Truth drawls, stepping towards him- stepping away from Ed’s gate, covered in ancient words and thick, heavy chains. “Human transmutation or not, that warrants a conversation, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sorry?” Ed manages, trying to push through his underlying panic at being trapped back here. “Does-does this mean I have my alchemy back for good?”

The idea makes his breath quicken- it’ll mean an end to his journey, a reason to return to his loved ones. A reason to return to Al. He could return to Central, see Mustang and Hawkeye and Madame Christmas, talk to Teacher and Winry, eat with Gracia and Major Armstrong. He could rest, having accomplished something worthwhile.

Truth’s mouth stretches terrifyingly wild, splitting at the edges of their face, and they lean towards him conspiratorially. “No.”

“What-” Ed starts, stepping back. “Why would you bring me here, then?”

“Edward Elric, you are a fascinating person,” they say quietly, staring at him with their faceless gaze. “Did you know that not one person in history has survived coming to me five separate times? You’ve transmuted your mother, your brother’s soul, you were brought here through Gluttony’s stomach and then you returned – willingly, mind you – another time to restore your brother. Do you know how impressive that is?”

“But why am I here now?” Ed asks.

Truth goes on like they hadn’t heard him. “There are very few interesting things in the world, when you’ve lived as long as I have. Hohenheim and the Dwarf in the Flask were fascinating for a while, to be fair, but it was all so elementary- a broken man searching for a family, a soulless creature striving to become something greater. And now that’ll be over, in just a moment, when your dear ol’ Dad dies.”

Ed flinches, but the Truth forges onward, brutal as ever.

“But you and your Brother? Now, that’s new!” They exclaim suddenly, clapping their hands together- the sound echoes through the expanse surrounding them, and Ed struggles to hide his shudder. “Two children, born the last survivors of a long-dead race, carrying the blood of those long-lost souls? But that on its own couldn’t have been that great- being half Philosopher’s Stone will only get you so far. What makes you really special – you, Edward, you in particular – is who you’ve chosen to become.”

“Chosen to become?” Ed echoes, uncertain of where this was going. Truth had met both him and Al, he couldn’t understand why they’d develop a focus on him.

“That’s it, right there!” Truth bursts out, stepping ever-closer. “You are unique and you can’t even see it- you refuse to! You’ve made it here and back, five times, because you want to help others- you’ve dedicated your whole life to protecting the people around you, at the expense of yourself! It’s fascinating.”

Ed bristles and glares at Truth. “It’s my job to protect them, it’s my fault that things get so bad-”

Truth bursts out laughing and it’s unhinged. “You were a child when your father left and your mother died. You’re a child now. How could you ever think this was your fault?” Ed opens his mouth to reply, but Truth keeps going, ignoring him. “You are perhaps the most human person I’ve ever encountered, but you’re barely even one! What is the rest of the world doing, when they let you – a child – fight their battles like this?”

“You…sound like you’re rather attached to me,” Ed hedges nervously. In all his research, in talking to Teacher and Al and Hohenheim, he’s never heard of the Truth even once engaging in an actual conversation- in taking an interest in anyone.

“Of course I am!” Truth bursts out. “I have spent all of eternity as a god, alone in this void, only visited by reckless and corrupt fools, and then there’s you- and you just keep coming back. You are the first interesting thing in millennia.”

Ed’s frozen where he stands, but he does his best to think of something – anything – to say to that. “Are you going to let me go back?”

Truth steps closer again – and Ed tries to step back, but the void seems to be shrinking and Truth manages to throw their arm over his shoulder, pulling him close. “Yes, I am, Edward Elric. The truth is, I want you to be happy.”

Ed blinks slowly and he leans away from where Truth leans on him. “You- you what?”

“I want you to be happy, and I can’t figure out how to do that,” Truth says carefully. “I had hoped that you giving up your alchemy would help you find a new purpose, even if that meant giving you up. But I see now that wasn’t the case.”

“Giving me up?” Ed questions, wary. “Were you planning to keep me?”

Truth looks up towards him and smiles. “Eventually, yes. You’re not human, Edward Elric. You won’t be able to move on in the same way.”

“Oh my,” he murmurs, then shakes his head. “Is Al-?”

“No,” Truth answers. “You’ve never forgotten about your brother, have you? He’s more successful, in your petty mortal realm, but he’s holding you back from finding more worth somewhere else. Yes, I think I see it now- your purpose is too tied up in your brother. You won’t be able to find solace anywhere else, will you?”

“No, you’re wrong,” Ed bites back angrily. “Al helps me- he makes me better. I wouldn’t have been able to do half this stuff without him by my side-”

“But you can do it now, can’t you?” Truth’s smile grows ever wider, and Ed can’t even try to hold back his shudder now. “You’ve been on your own, now. You’ve paid your debts to your brother, even moreover. And now I think I know how I can help you.”

There’s a growing sense of dread pooling in Ed’s gut and he tries to get Truth off of him, but their grip has grown unbreakable. “What do you mean?” He asks weakly.

“The only way to give you a better future,” Truth begins, standing right in front of Ed’s face, “is to take away what ties you down to your past.”

“No, wait!” Ed tries to say, but Truth grabs his face with both hands and holds him tightly.

“Goodbye for now, Edward Elric. I’ll see you later.”

Ed wakes up, surrounded by chaos and draped over a mortally wounded man. He looks around frantically, off-kilter from being thrown between reality and the gates like this, and searches for a bit of familiarity. He can see Cat running towards him, throwing down the soldiers between them, and Scar is weeping openly as he takes in the rebuilt nation and weaponless soldiers.

The man tugs on his hands weakly and smiles softly up at him – it’s full of love and genuine feeling, unlike Truth’s – then speaks. “Thank you, Edward, for giving these souls a final purpose.” Ed watches frozen as the man breathes his last, then is torn away as Cat finally reaches him.

“Oh, Ed, I’m so sorry- are you alright? You were amazing!” She cries out, hugging him closely. “How did you do that?”

“The alchemy?” Ed asks, and she nods. “I’m not sure. I think I got thrown back into the Gate, with Truth, but I can’t remember anything they said to me.” He stares at his hands, uncertain.

She looks down, past him towards the man lying at their feet, and she gasps. “Ed, is he-?”

“Yeah, he’s dead,” Ed mumbles, all the adrenaline from using alchemy and fighting suddenly gone.

She pulls them down next to him, and silently closes the man’s golden eyes. She looks back up at him, and he’s surprised to see that her eyes are full of tears. “If you need to talk about it, I can-”

Ed frowns at her- this isn’t the first time he’s watched someone die. “Why would I need to talk about it?”

“Ed,” she begins, searching his eyes cautiously. “I know you had a tense relationship with your dad, and I don’t really know any of the details, but don’t you want to-”

“My dad? He left when I was a child, too early for me to remember him. I don’t any of my family,” Ed says.

Cat stares at him with surprise and unfiltered horror, then pulls him back into a close hug. “Oh, god Ed, what happened to you?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26252785/chapters/69928110

#fmab #fma #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #edward elric #catherine armstrong #ao3

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dinfeanoriel · 5 years

Text

Missing Legend

Linked Universe belongs to the one and only Linked Universe and Jojo56830! Make sure to check them out! I own nothing but my writing.

~~~~~~~

“Anyone know where Legend went?”

The group of Heroes turned to find Hyrule wearing a frown on his face as he searched for the absent Link.

Wind and Four shook their heads. Sky and Warrior blinked in surprise when they realized Legend was, in fact, nowhere to be found. Time looked to Twilight who gave him a shrug. Apparently, no one had noticed Legend was gone.

“He left earlier,” Wild quietly spoke up, pointing in the direction of the forest, “Said he needed to clear his head.”

Time turned to him, “How long ago was this?”

Wild paused in his packing and thought for a second before answering, “An hour ago.”

The Heroes stopped what they were doing, their jobs forgotten.

“And he hasn’t come back since then?” Twilight asked, brow creased.

Time rubbed at his chin, his frown steepening. This was unlike Legend. It was common knowledge that Legend would often take walks to ‘clear his head,’ especially after a particularly rough day, but he would return within half an hour. For him to be gone this long...

“Wild, Sky,” Time suddenly addressed. The leader lifted his chin and fixed his single good eye on the two Heroes, “I want the two of you to look for him. Four, Twilight, you as well. The rest of us will finish packing up camp. If Legend is not found by then, we will join in the search.”

He received murmurs of acknowledgement and the four he’d chosen to look for Legend left immediately.

~~~~~~~

“Where could he be?” Wild overheard Sky wondering to himself. The two had headed eastward, seeing as this was the direction Wild had seen Legend go. They had yet to find anything.

Wild bit his lower lip. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was growing worried. They had tried calling Legend’s name a few times- a risk both agreed was worth taking- but hadn’t received any sort of response.

They hoped nothing had happened to Legend, but as time passed, they were beginning to suspect something might have gone down.

Wild shuffled through a couple of thick bushes and stepped out of the foliage, Sky following close behind. The latter hadn’t realized Wild had suddenly stopped until he’d walked right into him.

“Sorry-” Sky began to apologize, hands shooting out to grasp Wild’s shoulders as if to stabilize him. He trailed off upon seeing the look on Wild’s face. His eyes had narrowed and a stark frown marred his features, spelling trouble for Sky. The Hero shifted closer, lowering his voice, “What is it?”

Wild didn’t answer. Instead, he crouched down and swiped at something that had caught his eye.

An orb glimmering in the sunlight.

Sky knelt beside him, curiously eyeing the round orb Wild now had pinched between two fingers.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know,” Wild replied, studying the gleaming object. He appraised it from multiple different angles, tilting his head thoughtfully, “But there’s something about it...” He wasn’t sure how to describe it, but Wild strongly felt he needed to hold onto this rare pearl he’d found. “It’s more than it appears.” He vaguely tells Sky, standing briskly.

“It’s quite beautiful...” Sky remarked when Wild allowed him to admire it. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Nor I.”

Sky returned it back to Wild, entrusting it to his care.

“Legend might know what it is.” He suggested, “He’s quite knowledgeable when it comes to rare or unique items.”

Wild had to agree. Sure, he collected various items, but he didn’t amass as many as Legend did. He remembered walking into Legend’s home and being amazed by the innumerable amount of items stored in it. Weapons, jewelry, instruments...the list went on. There was no doubt among them that Legend was quite the adventurer.

A startled cry suddenly penetrated the silence at the same time a familiar snap! sounded. Wild’s heart jumped and he whipped around to see Sky shaking his foot wildly to be rid of the foul contraption that had mercilessly latched onto his boot.

“What in Hylia’s name?!” Sky exclaimed, falling back onto the ground and tugging furiously at the metallic object. It refused to let go. “What is this thing?!”

Wild hurried over,

“Stop! Stop!” He urged Sky, gripping the Hero’s ankle and stilling it. “You got caught in a trap.” He calmly informed the startled brunette. He winced sympathetically at the blood-coated edges of the dulled, but nonetheless still sharp, edges.

“A trap?” Sky repeated, utterly baffled. “For what?”

“Animals.” Wild explained, setting Sky’s foot gently down. “Hunters use them extensively to catch small animals such as rabbits for their fur or meat.”

Sky looked ill. Those poor animals..! How could anyone do such a thing to them?

“That’s cruel,” He whispered, suppressing a flinch at the blood specked contraption Wild expertly pulled apart. He freed his ruined boot, tracing the holes decorating it while Wild broke the trap. He could care less who it belonged to. He was a skilled hunter, there was no denying it, but he gave animals a quick and more-or-less painless death. He never used traps.

With the strength of the trap, Sky knew any poor rabbit’s foot would have broken or been shredded. He briefly thought of a poor, unsuspecting Kikwi stepping into one of these...

And immediately felt nauseous and sick. Gruesome and horrifying. It was a good thing he’d been wearing his boots.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Wild murmured, and Sky realized he’d spoken his thoughts aloud.

Finished disposing of the trap, Wild glanced over to see Sky slowly sliding his boot off.

“How badly are you hurt?” With all the tugging and pulling, Wild wouldn’t be surprised if Sky’s hurts were worse than they should have been.

“Just grazes and a few deeper cuts, but my boot is ruined.” His companion quietly answered, faintly disturbed.

Wild imagined this was the first time Sky had ever seen such a trap or heard of them.

“We’ll have to purchase some new ones for you, then.”

“Where?” Sky sighed, putting the messed up boot back on and standing with Wild’s help, “There aren’t any cobblers anywhere nearby.”

“Well,” Wild tugged his Sheikah Slate from his pack, the screen brightening as it automatically clicked on, “According to this, there is a village not too far from here.”

Sky thought on it for a moment. The search for their missing friend was still ongoing, and none of their other companions had caught up to them...

“Maybe we’ll find Legend there too.”

“Maybe...”

~~~~~~~

“Oh, look!” Sky breathed, “Your Slate was right! There is a village!”

Wild studied the village with a critical eye. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt greatly impressed to go there. There was something there he needed to find- and that he needed to find fast.

“Let’s go.” He started down the path, leaving Sky to catch up.

“What’s the rush?” The softspoken Hero inquired, casting a concerned look towards his friend.

Wild pursed his lips together, “I don’t know.”

Sky quirked an eyebrow but said nothing more. This was one of the reasons why Wild appreciated Sky. The Hero was quite adept in reading people. Their actions, body language, speech... Everything. He knew what they liked, what they didn’t like, what they preferred, how they were feeling...

Most importantly for Wild, he recognized when he needed peace and quiet or when he didn’t want to talk. He also had a calming presence that would envelop the others and help to soothe their troubled thoughts and hearts. A small, gentle smile always tugged at his lips and his eyes held a kind glimmer to them. He was warm and welcoming, drawing many to him.

Sky was oblivious to the effect he had on others, but Wild noticed. Wild may not talk much, but he did observe, and he saw more than others did.

They neared the village but never made it that far when Wild abruptly stopped again. Sky paused a little ways ahead of him, turning slightly to shoot him a curious look.

He followed Wild’s line of sight, stopped, and stared.

Was that a...

He was unable to complete the thought when Wild scowled and marched on over to where a man was seated on the edge of the bridge connecting the village to the rest of the land. Beside the man, was a crudely fashioned cage and within it, an injured, shivering pink rabbit.

Wild’s heart ached at the agony in the rabbit’s dark eyes as they darted his way and connected with his own. He could almost feel the poor thing’s pain as if it were his own.

Blood coated its soft pink fur and the rabbit was crouched in an awkward position as it tried vainly to keep its weight off its horribly mutilated foot. It also struggled to maintain as much distance between itself and the man- a feat rendered next to impossible due to the fact that it was in a cramped and rusty cage.

“Hey!”

Wild’s voice startled the man violently. He almost went careening into the rushing waters below, and Wild wished he had. He had half a mind to push him in for what he’d done to the rabbit! As incredibly tempting as that was, Wild forced himself to swallow back his anger.

Why this particular rabbit had garnered such a strong, protective, reaction from him, Wild did not know, but all he knew was that he needed to free it from the trapper.

“Do you mind, boy?” The man snapped at him and Wild bristled at the tone. Sky wisely edged away from him, eyes darting between the man and Wild. “I could have hurt myself!”

“The way you hurt that rabbit?” Wild returned. His voice was low and accompanied by a dangerous undertone. Sky shuddered. If looks could kill, the man would have been nothing but ashes to be carried away by the breeze.

“Why do you care so much?” The man asked, baffled by Wild’s crossness. “By the looks of you, you’re a hunter yourself. But,” He appraised the rabbit, not noticing the way it shrunk against the back of the cage when he did so, “I don’t think I’m gonna kill this one. Mighty rare, this one is. Never seen or heard of a pink rabbit.”

“I want to buy it.”

Sky and the man snapped their heads towards Wild in mingled shock and surprise.

“Buy it?!” The man incredulously sputtered.

“How much?”

“He’s not for sale.” The man stubbornly proclaimed, crossing his arms. Sky took in the worried and troubled look in Wild’s eyes. The pain of the rabbit reflected in his own.

Sky didn’t want to leave this rabbit with the man, either. Animals, especially ones attuned to living in the wild, were not meant to be detained and displayed like a trophy for people to admire, or to live in captivity for the remainder of their days. The poor creatures would suffer greatly and live a lonesome existence.

But for some reason, this rabbit...this rabbit was important to him. He didn’t know or understand why, but he knew he needed to rescue this rabbit.

The rabbit moved weakly to the opposite end of the cage, hooking its paws onto the bars and peering up at him pathetically. It physically pained Sky to see the bunny try to move, and he could tell it was forcing itself to ignore the sheer agony it was undoubtedly in.

They locked gazes, and Sky knew then and there that he couldn’t leave it behind.

Decision made, Sky straightened, folded his arms across his chest and stared down at the man,

“He isn’t, is he?”

The man slowly looked at the Hero towering over him and shrunk back at the look Sky wore. It wasn’t that Sky appeared at all threatening or frightening, but even Wild would have cowed if the look had been directed towards him. It was subtle, but the message was clear-

Give him to us or else

For such a gentle soul, Sky could come across as intimidating if he were pressed hard enough. He was someone whose wrath no one wanted to incur.

“W-well,” The man cleared his throat awkwardly, watching Sky closely, “I’d say for something as rare as this, maybe seven hundred rupees.”

Sky’s eyes very nearly bugged out of his skull. Hylia, it was like dealing with Beedle again and his overpriced items! Although, he had to admit he was a little surprised the man hadn’t demanded for more. It was true, pink rabbits were practically unheard of, but still...

Wild looked ready to protest but Sky raised his hand to stop him from doing so and gripped his shoulder reassuringly.

I have it all under control, He silently told the younger Hero. Wild chose to trust in him. Sky gave him a small smile then turned his attention back to the man, the kind gesture fading the instant he laid his eyes on the hunter.

“We can do six hundred.” Sky calmly negotiated, but his tone brooked no argument.

The man was clearly disgruntled, but Sky would not budge. He knew how much it meant to Wild to rescue this wounded rabbit.

“Six twenty-five, and that is final.” Was his last offer.

“Oh, alright!” The man gave in and Sky handed him the amount while Wild quickly rescued the rabbit from the abhorrent cage.

“There you are,” Wild whispered soothingly, petting the rabbit’s head with two fingers, “I’ve got you.” The rabbit nudged his hand, eyes begging for him to get it out of there. Wild carefully gathered the rabbit in his hands, deliberately avoiding jostling the disfigured foot. A spark of anger flickered within him but Wild pushed it aside.

He freed the bunny from the cage and cradled it to his chest. Sky proffered his sailcloth and Wild gratefully took it, wrapping it around the hurt animal. The rabbit burrowed itself into his hold, quiet sounds of pain escaping it.

With one last look of pure dislike towards the trapper, Wild turned and left. Sky didn’t bother to bid the man a farewell before hurrying after the younger Hero.

They went as far from the village as possible, never once looking back.

~~~~~~~

“How is he?” Sky asked once he and Wild had found a place to settle and care for the bunny.

Wild grimaced in sympathy when he undid the sailcloth Sky had willingly sacrificed. It was stained with blood. The man hadn’t bothered to treat the rabbit’s wound.

Sky looked faintly ill at the sight of the foot.

“Oh, Din...” He whispered, softly rubbing the whimpering rabbit’s head between its ears. “I’m so sorry that horrid man did this to you...”

Wild’s gaze darted up to him in surprise. For Sky to actually insult someone, he must have been as furious as Wild. He just hadn’t expressed it as openly as Wild had.

The rabbit remained lying on its side, nose twitching. It shuddered, wincing as it’s messed up foot flared in response. Sky spoke softly to it, soothingly brushing his fingers along its incredibly soft fur. He delicately slipped his hands beneath the rabbit and lifted it into his lap, providing it with a sense of security and protection.

“I don’t know how much I can do,” Wild admitted, frustrated with himself, “Can animals digest red potions or elixirs?”

Sky had no clue.

“I do have a fairy,” He said instead, “We could probably ask her to heal it.” He dug into his pack and drew out a bottle with a fairy and uncorked it. The fairy popped out and listened to their request to heal the rabbit. She immediately set to work and soon, the rabbit was standing upright with no sign of injury.

“Thank you, Miss. Fairy,” Wild said, gratitude shining in his eyes before the fairy vanished to wherever Fairies went when their job was done. He rubbed the rabbit’s spine with a smile as its nose twitched again and it tapped its foot experimentally. “Good as new!”

The pink bunny appeared to be satisfied with the results, surprising Wild and Sky when it seemingly nodded to itself. The bunny hopped a couple of times but still looked unhappy.

Wild came close to mirroring it, but he was more sad than dissatisfied.

“What’s wrong?” Sky asked and Wild sighed as he stared forlornly at the bunny sitting contentedly in the other Hero’s lap.

“I’m just sad that he has to go.”

The rabbit raised his head, ears flicking in his direction.

Sky smiled with a hum. Wild had a big heart and he was immensely fond of animals. Wolfie was almost a constant companion of his come nightfall. Wild had also mentioned he owned four horses and had been thinking of getting a dog.

“I will be too,” Sky murmured, patting the rabbit’s head. To his amusement, the rabbit almost looked disgruntled and embarrassed from all the attention he was receiving. His foot beat against Sky’s leg at a remarkable speed as he pawed at the air towards Wild.

Wild seemed to understand what he was saying and picked the rabbit up. He tucked it into the crook of his arm, lightly resting a hand on his tiny head.

Sky chuckled as he straightened and dusted himself off, “I don’t think he wants to leave.”

Wild brightened then dimmed again, “Time wouldn’t let us take him with us, though.”

“I don’t know,” Sky tilted his head meaningfully, “He does have a soft spot for you. I’m sure you could convince him to let you keep him. If you gained Twi’s support, there’s no way he could possibly say no to the both of you.”

The rabbit made a sound that made both Heroes look at him. Dark eyes were fixed on the both of them, greatly displeased.

“I don’t think he likes the idea of being a pet.”

“You don’t say?”

Sky burst out laughing when the rabbit jabbed Wild in the ribs with his paws. Wild cried out in surprise and held the rabbit at arm’s length.

“Cut it out, would you?! I wasn’t thinking as a pet!” He tried telling the indignant rabbit. Dark eyes narrowed on him as the rabbit clucked and growled.

Sky’s laughter stuttered and died as he stared at the bunny.

“They can growl?” He blinked owlishly, but neither Wild nor the rabbit appeared to hear him.

“I meant as a companion!” Wild was saying, struggling to keep a hold on the furious pink bunny. He feared he might drop him with how much he was squirming.

The rabbit paused, took a moment to consider his words, then settled. Wild warily drew him closer. The animal nestled into his arms, apparently content.

“Aren’t you a temperamental one?” Wild muttered good-naturedly.

“Indeed,” Sky chuckled, “Reminds me of someone else we know.”

The rabbit tensed in Wild’s hold.

Sky and Wild’s eyes then widened and they whipped their heads up simultaneously, “Legend!”

They hadn’t found their friend!

“We never found him!”

The rabbit shifted uneasily in Wild’s hold. Sky dropped his head into his hands.

“We need to go back and tell the others.”

~~~~~~~

So it was two subdued Heroes who found their way back to the encampment. They hoped, perhaps, Legend had been found, and they would see him with the other Links. Their hopes were dashed however, for surely, Wolfie would have been sent out to alert them.

“You’re back!” Wind’s voice sounded, but his bright and hopeful face fell when he found no sign of Legend. The other Heroes appeared just as dismayed.

“Legend’s gone, then?” Hyrule shakily expelled a breath. Time placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed,

“Twilight and Four found nothing.” He sighed. “Wolfie was unable to track his scent.”

Four shook his head when Wild and Sky looked to him, confirming their leader’s words, “Wolfie tracked him a ways, but then...it was as if his scent suddenly disappeared.”

There was a moment of grave silence as the Heroes digested this. It was Time who broke the heavy silence,

“Gather everything together,” He hefted his pack over his shoulder, “We’re heading out to find Legend.”

Again, the bunny squirmed in Wild’s arms, shrinking as if to make himself smaller.

“Say,” Warrior suddenly spoke up, gesturing to Wild, “What’s with the rabbit?”

#Linked Universe #linkeduniverse #Legend of Zelda #Fanfic #Blood

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