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rise-my-angel · 9 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf

15 - Fire for the King's Blood

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 13.1k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, slow burn, character death, descriptions of blood and gore, mention of child death, executions

Notes: Fun fact the very last scene of this chapter was the first ever scene I thought of for this entire series. Past Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The air at Castle Black felt suffocating. Men in black gathered all around the main court as you and Theon entered and there was not a single word spoken by any of them. A mixture of morose sadness and a nervous despair radiated throughout as more approached the scene. Theon let you climb off first, slowly holding onto the saddle as you barley turned to anyone with something inside of you screaming beyond what you’ve ever felt before.

Not just black was around, some in furs different then that, more wild and on their own that were neither Night’s Watch nor your fathers men. Looking around you, none seemed to dare say a word as Theon once more asked to see Jon Snow.

What did come forward first, a slowly moving figure of white on all fours. Moving quiet as some parted either way to give him a path. You recognized the pure white fur and red eyes, the size however was vast and larger then your tiny memory of him before. Ghost had grown close to the size of Grey Wind, but walked with silence and a slow intent towards you. Pausing in the middle of the clearing, the direwolf looked at you with a strange emotion that too made you feel off. Like Ghost was looking at you with an emotion you’ve only seen on a person, like he looked at you like one person.

The one who wasn’t there.

Stepping towards Ghost was when finally a very small group came towards you. All once more, cleared the way for them as they looked the most lost and devastated. You felt sick each passing second. The one leading was shorter, long dark hair laying straight across his back and a low crackling voice as he asked your name. The one behind him was large, quite large with wild orange hair and beard that was dressed none like them.

As you looked at them, you felt dizzy.

The Ice Cells were carved right into the base of the Wall and led to a dark underground that was lit only by the fires hung from the stone sides. Only a hall and solid metal doors, each room was individual and shut off from each other. The descent was steep and freezing, as the men walked a few paces behind you and Ghost slowly at your side.

The shorter one, Edd, motioned to the slightly open door as you walked slowly forward. Your face felt frozen in a heart stopping denial that begged to cry as you felt the cold rush through it. Edd had to almost inaudibly try and tell Ghost to just let you be, the direwolf watching you with strangely intense eyes before backing up, leaving the dark area of the cells to the only two people left in there.

Stepping inside the room, your blood ran as cold as the ice made of the walls around you. Your heart no longer beat inside your chest as you saw him there. Laid out flat and stiff as any you’d ever seen. Each step forward you felt that once screaming inside of you fade out into a pit of darkness that wanted to swallow you hole and never be seen again.

He was different then you last saw. Older, more rugged with hair longer and wilder then that day on the Kingsroad, and facial hair that was well groomed but coarse and thick. Dressed in black leathers with the laces of his shirt slightly opened. Just out on the ground he was. They found him this way, Edd told you. Ghost had come to them with a desperate aggression and first saw the blood seeped into the snow, and then followed him down to these very cells where he had been hidden away as if to pretend the crime never happened. His eyes had been shut, likely done by the men who found him in respect.

When you had come along with King Robert to see Lord Arryn, the Silent Sisters all around him, he was dressed up and anointed in their preparation. Stones with painted eyes had been placed on his shut ones and he looked to you more like a statue of a man, then the man himself. Robert had commented that if he didn’t know any better he’d have thought he was sleeping.

Jon Snow didn’t look like that. His skin was pale, and a tint of the faintest blue from the cold. The blood soaked into the leathers on his torso were thick and sticky. Across his face there were scars, one thin and faded down one eye and another that curve around the side of his face near the other that was red and painful looking. He didn’t look like a statue, he didn’t look asleep. He just looked like every corpse you’d seen and made in the Westlands.

Kneeling down onto the ground beside him, you felt your lungs so tight they couldn’t breathe as you shaking reached forward. Your finger shaking as they slowly undid the remaining laces and pulled to the side to reveal more of his chest, and there they were.

One low close to his stomach, and six scattered across the main area of his chest as they sat red and violent. Your fingers though, gently reached up to one curved across his heart, the second the jagged feeling touched your skin you felt yourself drop.

Dizzy and lightheaded at the same time as no breathe nor heartbeat nor thought and sound made it’s way through your head and body. You fell back, the iron bars that separated part of the room slammed into your back and head as you hit them. Your palms braced on the ground as you looked to him in a deathly shock.

There was no way of knowing how long you were there for, how long you looked at him and felt so twisted and dark inside that it felt like nothing else in you was left. You had parted ways all those years ago, not knowing if you’d ever see each other again but this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. This wasn’t supposed to be how you reunited with Jon. You and Theon weren’t supposed to be the only ones left.

Theon had risked everything to help you escape, put his life on the line for you just to bring you to Jon, to the one man who would protect you but it was too late. You could feel that last time, the way his large, gloved hands had cupped your cheeks with that bright grin and grey eyes of his as he joked, “Think I could get to the wall before they catch me, if I kiss you now?”

But now you just sat there. Against the bars in that bitter, dark cold as tears ran freely down those same cheeks he once held as you found nothing for you. It was possible the panic hit you so much you blacked out, there for so long just watching the still body of the one man who never had to do anything to keep your heart.

He had taken it with him here, and now it was left in the cold as he was. Tears on your face had frozen and covered with more as you barley moved. Last night they had said, he was alive just last night and yet the morning hours you arrived were enough time to cut into him.

You didn’t notice anyone come in. Your back against the iron, knees up to your chest as your forearms rested across them. The tears found no need to be covered up as you watched him in silence as the figures came to your side.

Both were large, one the pure white that had lost as you did. Ghost approached you slowly, his eyes trained on Jon before turning to you and nudging right up against the side of your head. Your hands reached up, grasping at the soft fur before you turned your face into him. Ghost almost seemed to move as if to bury his own head in your neck back before moving. Your legs slipping in front of you to lay flat, as the direwolf rested his head on your lap. Eyes watching Jon, but keeping right at your side.

The other figure you didn’t expect. They had left, giving you time alone but it seemed the longer you were gone one had taken the time on his own to go see if you were alright. The large one from before, orange hair still wild and his own blue eyes stared at Jon as intensely as you did, but without the tears pulling from your heart down onto your cheeks. He mimicked the position you were in just seconds before but took his own time to find any strength to speak.

His voice was deep, a rumbling that if loud you suspected would boom like a thunder. “Impossible to get him to open up. Always so quiet like he never wanted to talk about himself, until it was about you.” The man, Tormund, had something held back in his own chest you could hear, a pain of his own. “Took us a while, but once I got him to talk about you it was like that’s all he could talk about. Think it’d been a long time since he did. Called him a moron for leaving a girl like that behind.”

He had no choice, that’s what he said and you both knew there was nothing either could do to have changed it. Your voice was rough, dry as it quietly murmured out. Eyes trained on him, on where the red on his chest lay. “We never had a chance did we..”

Ghost perked up, moving to watch your face with something like a surprised gaze for a wolf but instead just sat up more to watch you directly as you found more of a voice finally. “You found him here?”

Tormund nodded, motioning to the direwolf, “That one found him, body was still warm even. No one even saw a thing.”

“Mercy, sire, I didn’t kill anyone, I only watched for the guards.”

Something however, didn’t agree with that. Something in you that was dark and hollow, but it opened like a wound and slipping in was rage. A rage that brew and grew, as your eyes narrowed and jaw clenched as you looked at Jon. “Someone saw it. And I’m willing to wager it was more then just a someone who did it.”

Footsteps approached behind you as Edd rejoined. A stilted grief as he paused looking to the sight before him, behind him as well was Theon. Theon who at that point, had a silent wide eyed look as he too saw the image in front of him. Edd clearing his throat before looking only to you, “Sorry to interrupt, your grace but-”

The voice that spoke after was one you too hadn’t learn in a long time. “There are things I think we need to discuss.” Turning in place, you didn’t see him just outside the door.

Looking back to Jon, and then Ghost who barley looked away from your eyes, you paused before accepting the outstretched hand of Tormund who pulled you up with ease and followed you as closely as the direwolf did. The door behind you closing as the lot of you were standing now in the equally as empty corridor of the cell block. Standing before you though, was a grim looking man who you last saw on the other side of the lines.

“Not exactly how I envisioned seeing you again.”

Ser Davos Seaworth was still here. Your father and his men had all been here, and yet so far the only trace of them left was the one in front of you. “To be fair, Ser Davos I don’t know anyone who expected to see me again.” Edd, Tormund, and Davos all hesitated as they looked at you, “What?”

It was Edd who spoke up, “That’s what we needed to talk about. Don’t think we’re putting any blame on you, your grace, but..the last thing we saw of Jon before he- it was a letter he got. About you.”

Davos was the one who sent the nail into your heart. “A letter from the Boltons.”

Sharing an uneasy look with Theon, you swallowed harshly trying to keep an even expression and as steady of a tone as you could. “Why would the Boltons send Jon a letter about me?”

Davos elaborated as you all stood in the dark and the cold. “The boy, Ramsay, sent him a letter...accusing him of..stealing you. Calling you his bride and saying Jon’s the one who stole him and that if he didn’t give you back then Ramsay would go hunting for you himself.” They knew where you went, but why would they think Jon actually had anything to do with it? That didn’t make sense.

“Where is it now?” No one answered, but your voice this time had less patience then before. “The letter, where is it?”

Edd spoke up, “We don’t know. It was on Jon the last time we saw him, but was gone when we found him here.” Your eyes narrowed more, your blood flowing a little faster then before. “I don’t know if they were trying to hide what they did at all, or if this was just to stall anyone from finding out why they did it but, if that letter’s gone-”

“Someone has it.” You looked between them all, “Someone has that letter and whoever does, helped do this.” Edd repeated the word helped in question as you inhaled deeply. “No one saw who did it, no one saw it happen, and there’s way too many wounds in his chest for only one man to do this and get away unharmed, unseen. This wasn’t just a murder.”

“Mutiny.” Tormund finished for you, and you nodded at him.

In the quiet you crossed your arms, looking down as your mind raced before meeting their eyes all once more. “Who here had the most to gain by this? Someone who didn’t want Jon as Lord Commander, someone who had reasons to want him dead?”

Edd had the answer to that. “Ser Alliser Thorne. Been here more then twenty years, hated Jon from the first day he arrived, and lost to him when we voted for our new Lord Commander. Some of the men didn’t like Jon neither, but not enough to do this.”

Tormund’s voice was clearer, more determined as now an anger set in his own eyes as he looked to yours. “So that’s where we start.”

The plans that were made in the quiet of that cell were organized, but not before one last thing had to be brought up. This time, the look in Davos’s eye spoke something of more bad news. “There is one last thing you should know. It’s about your father...and your sister.”

Ghost had not left your side as you came back into the main court. All onlookers seemed to be put off by the sight, the large direwolf only ever listened too by one man, either commanded by Jon or off on his own and yet now never once left your side as you stepped onto the gravel. Looking around with a narrowed, harsh gaze you knew some of them were involved. But stood around doing their work as if nothing was wrong or had nothing to hide.

A young pair of eyes was unsettled and on edge as he looked at you, and even more as he met Ghost’s eyes before taking off. Quite young you thought, but not much more of it. Not now. The others had been given their instructions leaving you, Ghost and Tormund together. A strange trio likely to be seen.

Glancing down at you, his eyebrow quirked up. “What’s with none of you royalty ever dressing for the cold?” He did admittedly look rather warm but something to you about the cold was crisp and needed inside. A familiar sting that kept you up.

You shrugged a shoulder, “Call it stubbornness.” At the least you weren’t trapped in this ice and snow in a dress currently. Watching the people currently, your eyes glanced up to a walkway on an upper floor that made you feel a deeper rage filter in.

So she was watching you it seemed. Her eyes met yours as a curious look waved over her and met nothing but anger. You had one reason to despise her, but now you had an even stronger one. You had to keep such a feeling down. You couldn’t handle this all at once. The red had to wait.

But you would eventually. No Lord Commander, no order in their ranks, and no longer the King that came to their aid. That’s what Davos had said to you, what Ramsay had said of the “false King” and what was done in the chaos after.

It was all a mess that you missed by mere hours. Turning back to Tormund, you crossed your arms in thought as he spoke. “Most crows here hate my guts more then they did his, me and the wolf’ll keep an eye on you from afar.”

Ghost didn’t move with him, a low rumble in his throat as you looked down to him before nodding behind you to follow. You found it odd, the way he stared at you like he was trying to challenge you on something before he relented and followed Tormund. They’d watch from the distance, giving the other men around here a little more ease if it was only you they spoke too. Trying to learn mostly from listening.

You found more men that mourned Jon then disliked him. Edd had said it seemed like half his brother’s all hated Jon, but you didn’t find that in this somber grief. Perhaps the vocal few only stood out amongst the quiet supporters as if the bigger number. Just what you thought, most knew nothing and the brave ones naming a few names that had issues with Jon in the past. Certain names coming up more often then others.

A few men were Northerners, those ones held a bit of shock and awe as they spoke to you, but had the inclination of your cold and on edge demeanour that you were not in the place to discuss that you were indeed, alive. Not the image of the Queen in the North some of them had likely, but they’d have to forgive you on such a slight.

You didn’t feel like that woman, not since losing Robb at the Twins, and not while the man whose heart you were ripped away from sat in the cold with a stab wound in his own. Hard to say but you may never feel like that woman again. Those same young eyes found yours more then once when you found yourself coming into what appeared to be some kind of dining hall.

A few men all sat at a table when the others were in tiny scattered pairs or alone far from them. At the far front was a man with a spiteful look in his eyes, deep lines in his face from years of such a scowl and as he spoke it was a mocking that you felt yourself tense at.

“So we traded one King for a dead Queen. Seems like we’re all having difficulty remembering the Night’s Watch has nothing to do with your politics and wars.” He seemed to hold a level of authority over the others who watched in silence.

Easy to figure out who this was. “Ser Alliser, I see your skills of hospitality are as gracious as your attitude.” Walking slowly up to the other end of the long table, you met his eyes as he leaned back in his seat with a glare.

Some quiet ones, begun to walk back out the door. “If you’re here for Lord Snow I’m afraid your a bit too late.” Amusement was in his eyes, but none in yours. Edd was not lying it seemed. “Sorry to see you leave so soon after arriving.”

This time your eyebrows quirked up as you kept about a foot in front of the table. “Forgive me gentleman, I’m not terrible familiar with the day to day of the Night’s Watch but it strikes me as odd Ser Alliser, that your Lord Commander is found dead in the middle of the night, and his First Ranger is just sitting around as if he has nothing to attend to on the matter.”

There was a distinct quiet between a few of the men that caught your eye with a flashing flicker to them and back. The mans glare deepened. “Hard to attend to my duties with you and the wildlings sniffing around.”

You didn’t move and no one else dared breathe. “You don’t find it curious that no one saw your Lord Commander’s murder, and then his body hidden away hoping no one would find him? Or the letters he had been carrying with him that are now missing?”

A tiny passing glint in his eyes flew past, but you did not miss it one bit. Ser Alliser clenched his jaw as he leaned forward, “You mean the one about you? The ravings of a stupid boy trying to lure out another stupid boy to fight over a girl?” Taking a sip from his mug, he drew the moment out before letting it thud back onto the table. “The Night’s Watch has a duty and none of it says we should care about a southern girl’s lovers quarrel.”

The quiet ones at the table all seized up and drew back into themselves as the looming figure of Tormund came up to one side of the table, adjacent to you. Voice crackling as it was loud. “You crows call yourselves brothers, but here you all are sitting around while she does all the work.”

Neither you nor Ser Alliser looked away from the other. “That’s not quite fair. This is hard work, covering up for traitors and murderers in his ranks.”

Bracing his hands on the table he straightened up, “Are you accusing me of something, girl?”

The air was thick, and the table was silent as well as the room. But you shrugged, he had given you enough information, despite how minimal it truly was. The atmosphere at Castle Black was completely tense, but some of that tensity seemed to grow more rotten then others. Clearly, work was not just cut out for you, but had been for Jon to make this all work as well. “Innocent men are usually the quickest to defend themselves, the guilty usually deflect in my experience.”

You had stroke something inside of the man clearly that spawned an anger, you had moved to turn away from the table heading to the door when the sound of him standing up abruptly hit. Tormund turned around first, your eyes only managing to catch the aggressive stance Ser Alliser stood with when it happened.

As if from nowhere, Ghost flew past your vision as he leaped up onto the table. Only in a few short strides was he hovering in the man’s face, a growling almost snarling sound coming from him as he bore his teeth and leaned close into him. Every man at that table jumped back to their feet and no doubt Ghost was so close his breath would be felt.

It was a display everyone in the room including Tormund stood surprised at for a moment, like such a fast and aggressive display of anger from the direwolf wasn’t normal. You hadn’t seen Ghost since you last saw Jon, but this wasn’t the demeanour you knew. This was closer to the strength and protective nature of Grey Wind, only Ghost did so without any single kind of prompt.

It took you to softly whisper Ghosts name for him to stop. Snapping at Ser Alliser’s face, making him flinch back as the direwolf turned on the spot to come up to you. His height added with the table had him loom over you with eyes so red they looked like blood. Unlike any others would’ve, you had no hesitation or fear as you reached up to him.

Running a hand gently across the fur along his neck as the rumbling in his chest vibrated through your fingertips. Only relaxing the longer your hand stayed on him before you glanced behind to Ser Alliser. Who watched you still taken back by what was something the direwolf had never done before. He’d been almost attacked like that once before years ago, but not by that wolf.

As you three filed out, Ghost growled once more before staying so close you could’ve felt his fur were your arms not covered. Theon approached you shortly after, “Your grace,” So quickly Theon fell back into it it seemed. You tried not to think of that night, of Robb smirking telling him he didn’t need to call you both that in private. “I have someone who wants to speak to you.”

Tormund and Ghost both stayed outside. Theon bringing you to where your fathers quarters had been, opening the door you took a pause to look around. Your mother had a room private to herself it seemed, you’d have to deal with that eventually you knew.

So this room stayed cold and empty now, trying not to look at the open books scattered on the table in the living space as you turned to the desk. Covered in work and papers as Theon closed the door and settled near the wall, you saw the young figure in the chair in front of you.

Walking around to the far side, you recognized the young boy that had watched you nervous many times before. Only now he sat rigid and something in his eyes barley keeping himself together. Taking a seat, you wondered briefly how much of what was left on here did they expect was your responsibility now, because when the boy spoke, it was that of someone who recognized who you were before all of this.

Eyeing him stoically as he spoke. “You’re the Queen, right? Robb Stark’s wife?” You felt a tiny leap in your heart that only added to the darkness that was currently trapped between the bodies of two men ripped from you. You nodded as he wrung his hands together before looking around even more nervous then before. Asking what his name was he swallowed heavily, “Olly.”

You leaned forward, your forearms resting on the desk with your hands clasped together. The move only made the boy more nervous it seemed. “You wanted to tell me what it was you saw, is that it?” He nodded, your lungs tightening a bit. You had to deal with this, you couldn’t push this way beacuse it hurt.

You arrived and no one but his closest companions had done a thing about Jon, no one took responsibility and no matter how much it feel rotting and sick inside, you needed to know what happened. “I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into, Olly. If you know something about last night, tell it all and tell it true. It’s a great crime to lie to a Queen.”

Olly started slow, tripping over his words like his heart was about to explode from his chest. “I’m- I was his steward..the letter he got, about you, it uh...he wanted to go find you, they said it was against his vows and then-” Just as you wondered if he was put up to this, your heart slammed down into the floor as Olly suddenly seemed to snap, the words almost coming with tears. “I did it-”

Your face fell instantly, barley getting those three words out before he could barley even breathe as he fell apart before you. In an instant you looked up to Theon, “Leave us.” Trying to protest, likely for your own safety you wouldn’t have it. “Now, Theon.”

As soon as the door closed, you quickly moved from your seat. Kneeling in front of him you looked up, your own heart so hard in your chest it felt painful but your voice was gentle. “Breathe for me, Olly. Take a breathe, like that yes. Now do it again.”

One of your hands reached up hold at his upper arm, the touch almost seemed to soothe him as he listened to you. One intake of air at a time before he started to come down. The tears tried not to fall, but the desperation in them gave him back some head space. Enough that his voice was small and watery, “I’m sorry, I did it, I’m sorry.”

Nerves jumped in you, fighting to tell them inside to stay calm. You saw what Jon’s chest looked like and you were fairly certain there was more to this then a crying boy. “Look at me, Olly. I need you to tell me what you mean, what exactly did you do.”

Keep calm you told yourself, over and over, keep calm. You wanted to scream and cry and lash out ever since you stepped foot in that cell but now was not the time to lose your composure. This didn’t look like the eyes of a murderer and you had seen too many of those by this point in your life.

Taking one last breathe, he hung his head down before meeting your eyes again. Just a little kid he was, probably not much older then- no. Don’t think about that right now either. Stay in this moment you told yourself. “The Lord Commander had asked for anyone who may want to volunteer. Men to willingly go with him to find you, he- none of us knew you were alive, your grace. We all thought you were dead. Or, that’s what they told us.”

His accent was certainly a bit Northern, and just like the little family that spoke of you days ago, it felt odd after being struck down so painfully to be reminded of the person that the North and Robb both believed in. Were you still that Queen or had your jaded torment turned you more into the stern iron fist of your father. Looking at Olly, you hoped it was the former.

“For a while, I thought so too.”

Meeting your eyes, he sniffed before nodding again. You moved your hand from his arm, giving him some space to think but never moved from your crouched spot in front of him. Easier for a child to confess when looking down at the authority then up. “I didn’t want to, your grace. I didn’t want to, but they-” He paused. Knew you caught it and he slipped up but he sailed passed it as if it never happened.

“I was upset, he was bringing the wildlings south of the wall...I knew why, he told me...I was his steward he wanted me there at all times, said it was important to learn these things in case I was ever in command one day.” You wanted so badly to cry, hearing people who knew this version of Jon you’d never get the chance to but you could so perfectly imagine the man he became.

Speaking slowly, you tried to help put the pieces together in his high strung state. “So Jon brought the wildlings south of the wall, and that upset you enough to murder him?” Your tone was doubting and it only made him almost start crying all over again but something wasn’t quite adding up.

Shutting his eyes, he took a few deep breaths before meeting you again. “I thought it was..but then I...I actually...”

Your heart sunk, you knew what he was confused about. You knew it too well. Nothing will ever prepare you for when that feeling truly sets in, but at least you were an adult your first time. Not..not this. “Saying your angry enough to want to kill a man is different then being the one to actually do it.” He nodded, struggling to look at you as you continued softly. “Something isn’t adding up here, Olly. You didn’t do this on your own- no, look at me. I know you didn’t do this on your own. You didn’t shove a knife into Jon’s chest seven times and drag him out of sight all on your own and no one saw you.”

The boy looked at his hands, and you knew he wasn’t lying about what he did but you’ve seen what a child capable of such cruelty looks like and Olly looking nothing like the vile eyes that your once cousin held. He inhaled, opened his mouth to speak before shutting it again and shaking his head. “I can’t...they don’t know I’m even talking to you I was supposed to stay quiet and do as I was told.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Did someone tell you to do this? Did one of these men come to you and tell you to help murder the Lord Commander?” He nodded again, and you ran through the list of names and faces you’d heard during the day. And you could see the aggression in Ghost in your defence. It seemed, Olly wasn’t the only one who knew what happened but the only one who could tell you with words.

“They told me I had to help. That they had no other choice, that I should be angry for bringing them south of the Wall and I...that’s why it’s my fault. I let them talk me into it.” He didn’t look at you, but there was shame in his voice and his heart. “They made me go last, had me...stab him in the heart and...” His voice broke as you felt your muscles shake in nerves. “He just looked confused..like he didn’t understand why I was there, why I did it.”

Suddenly his voice rose, an anger that begun to paint on his face as he frustratingly wiped the tears away only for more to fall in their place. “He took me in, looked after me and wanted to train me to be like him. And I killed him.”

Your mind could see the scars on Jon’s chest. Seven of them all deep and only one above his heart. He would’ve bled out no matter what. Putting a knife in his heart was just to make sure no one found them before they could finish the job. You sighed deeply. Pushing up from your thighs to stand as you turned a few paces away.

Hand running over your mouth as you swallowed that pain once more. You wanted to be angry, wanted to find it in you to punish this child for what he did but who would you be if you did that? What justice was there in such a punishment for a child who couldn’t have understood the reality of what he was being told to do.

Leaning back across the desk you looked at him firmly. “I won’t lie to you, I’m mad. I’m furious, Olly. That man out there I came here with? He risked everything to get me here, put his life on the line to make sure I got here alive what do I find?” He rose his eyes up to meet yours, an exhausted defeat beginning to set in for him. “I find the man I came here for, the man..I find him murdered by his own brothers. Thrown in a cell like he’s just a slab of meat to be stored away. I’m more angry then you could possibly believe, Olly. You looked me in the eye and told me you shoved a knife into the heart of someone who meant the world to me and there’s nothing I can to change that.”

“But I also believe in justice. And I do not think that you played enough of a role here to be the one to face the brunt of that justice. And you’re also the only person who came to me. Of your own free will, you came to me and confessed what you did.” The hope you felt only a few hours ago as you and Theon rode up to the wall felt like it was a horrible dream by that point.

“Tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’re a murderer. I think you were a normal boy who was taken advantage of by much older men here to help commit a horrible crime.” He didn’t confirm or deny, and you wondered if he was trying to grapple with who he was now as much as you felt yourself. “How did you get here. The Night’s Watch. What brought you here, with enough hate for the wildlings that it was used to trick you into thinking this was alright.”

Just as you suspected, he was a normal boy. Lived in the Gift in a small village with his mother and father and it was a raid by them that did it. You tried not to think of it, as he described the red headed woman who shot an arrow into his father. No reason to think it was the same one, but you couldn’t help but imagine it all the same.

The ordeal was as hard for him to get through as it was for him to tell you what he’d done. His father, his mother, the threat made by the men when they sent him running to Castle Black as a warning. You had been in enough battles to envision the carnage he had lived through.

Just a traumatized boy who lost everything in a few short minutes. Easy to manipulate for the right, or should you say, wrong people. Pulling a chair right up to sit by him you bent over to meet his eyeline with a low tone.

“You did a bad thing, Olly. An awful thing, to someone I care about no less, and justice tells me that such an action deserves a just sentence. But you’re also a child, who came to me and told me the truth all on your own. And I know for a fact that you didn’t plan this, and what you’ve done will already haunt you for the rest of your life. It haunts most of us.”

The fear in his eyes looked conflicted, deserve it or not he likely wondered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. So here’s what we are going to do. You were Jon’s steward right?” Olly nodded yes. “For now, you stick with me. Either you’re by my side, or if not me then you stick by whoever I tell you to stay with, do you understand?”

He nodded again, his brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re...not going to execute me, your grace?”

“They were boys,”

Olly would’ve been around Willem and Martyn Lannister’s age. And you could still see them laying dead and mutilated in the halls of Riverrun and the anger that seeped so deeply through you and Robb. You could see Jon too, but you also saw the boys. “I watched the King in the North execute men who had murdered two boys your age. They were our prisoners, but they were boys and he executed men in his own ranks for such a murder. I won’t dishonour his memory or Jon’s by executing a child. But there is catch here, Olly.”

You leaned in close, “I’m not going to execute you, harm you, or even throw you in a cell. But you need to do one last thing for me in exchange. I need you to tell me the names of every single man involved in Jon’s murder. All of them.”

“I didn’t kill anyone, I only watched for the guards.”

Meeting his eyes, you found a little bit of admiration in them. Just a normal boy pushed to an extreme he couldn’t possibly have understood the consequences of. “If they knew about it, stood guard to make sure no one was around, stood back and watched, and every person who shoved a knife into his chest, I need all of their names. Starting with the one who planned this in the first place. You will stay by my side, but only if you tell me exactly who is the man who wanted the Lord Commander dead.”

He flinched at Tormund as he walked out, walking away quickly in discomfort as he left to follow your instructions. Yourself telling Theon to go find Edd, it left you, Ghost and Tormund alone. Standing by his side as you both looked out to the yard you spoke lowly. “I’m not going to ask how much you were involved in attacking that boys village, nor will I ask about anyone else involved.”

His voice was rough, and were it not for the confidence in you and with the way Ghost dutifully found your side you might have been intimidated by the gruffness. “Am I on the pretty crow’s chopping block now as well?”

To his suprise, you had no ire in you towards him. “The fact that you’re here, in this place, trying to help me find out who did this, tells me that Jon trusted you. Which means I have no reason not to trust you as well.”

Watching Edd approach you, Tormund smirked a bit. “Learned as much from him as he did from me, I think. When this is all over, should hear about what’s been happening out North. He was probably one of the only ones taking any of it seriously. Seen shit a pretty lady like you would never believe.”

Your dreams flashed of blues and fires, of bodies and figures like ice and the scar in your stomach twisted as Edd came up to you. “You’d be surprised what I am willing to believe.” Turning your attention to the man in front of you, he noted the fire in your eyes. “I want you to gather the men in your meeting hall. No excuses.”

Both men looked at you as Edd asked, “What’s this about?”

But you didn’t meet their eyes. You only recalled a day when somehow hundreds of miles apart, you and Jon seemed to see each other in a strange vision behind your eyes. The last time you saw him before the nightmare thrown at you here. “I have names.”

Standing across the way in your moment alone, you caught the eye of your mother. The sun was moving quickly along the sky and eventually it would turn to night and you’d have to deal with a whole new nightmare. You weren’t sure what to say to her, spent too long apart, too long on opposite sides of a war that tore you and your father apart so hatefully. And now as she stood there beside Ser Davos you could see the tint of red lurking behind her.

It was her religion, not yours, not Ser Davos’s, and not...not hers either. This was your mothers doing, your fathers encouragement but now you were the only one to handle the aftermath of what she had almost let the red woman do, what damage was done before she begged for her to stop.

You’d handle that later. Only one thing at a time.

Ghost turned to look at you, standing tall the way he was sitting close to your own height. Gods can direwolves grow, don’t they. Looking at him, you ran a hand over the fur at his neck. “Don’t know why you’re sticking with me. He got killed trying to come after me, if I got here sooner or..just died when I was supposed to..” Ghost growled at you, shifting onto his feet as he did so before nudging you with his head.

Turning to see no eyes left watching, you slowly slid your shirt up just enough that Ghost could see the edge of a deep, large wound across your lower stomach that had the direwolf growl more. Nudging it with his nose before training his red eyes up at you.

“I’m just saying, Ghost. If this killed me like it was supposed to, Jon would still be with you right now, wouldn’t he?” It was hard to explain why something about Ghost was bugging you. You’d never seen him nor any other of the direwolves act like this but you knew it had been years. Maybe you just didn’t know Ghost anymore.

Maybe you wouldn’t have known Jon either.

That image in the cave that flashed before you came back, maybe coming after you was a fluke. It sat rotten in your core to think Jon could have died, regretting ever trying to come for you. That whatever that image in your mind of the pretty redhead was the only love he had needed or wanted anymore.

Coming to the hall, you nudged Ghost to head down the stairs to the ground level. “It’ll be okay, go on.”

Your footsteps echoed as they walked across the wooden floor. The room cramped with men all with eyes trained on you. Up on a platform was a table with multiple chairs and none taken. Whatever hierarchy was in the Night’s Watch currently fell into your hands in that moment. And you hoped that it would be enough to play out what was needed to be done here.

Your hand trailed along the back of the chair in the middle of the table, before bracing both palms against them looking to the men. Some in clear view of you with a disdain you knew would never go away, Edd close down near the front with watchful eyes and Olly sitting to the side with his own nerves rampaging.

“Sometime last year, a group of your own men mutinied against Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. Held the girls there prisoners, and even held some of your brothers too. Men who died fighting at your sides. What was the punishment for the crimes of those men?” There was silence in the room before one man spoke up. You didn’t know him, but you appreciated the honestly as he named death as the punishment.

No one contested it, but your eyes found a few odd ones out. The one in your most direct view, Ser Alliser, watching with distrust. “And who was the man that led you all there to carry out that justice?”

Murmurs of Jon Snow rumbled through the hall.

You were trying not to let anger take over, it was growing harder and harder as Allisers’s eyes bored into your person. “And who became your Lord Commander?” More of the same murmurs. “Some of you may not have voted for him, but he became your Lord Commander all the same. The man that you follow, the one that leads you and the one you all fought beside multiple times. He put his life on the line for you all, and some of you repayed that kindness with treason.”

Some men fidgeted in their seats. Good. “One man in this room came up with a plan to attack your Lord Commander in the middle of the night, murder him, and tried to hide the body. Like a coward too afraid to face his own crimes.” The same men all looked at each other except for two. One young who watched you closely and the other daring you to continue along this path.

“He lays dead on the floor of a cell as some have hidden his murderer from you all. Your own brothers betrayed him, and they betrayed you. I don’t want your sadness or your sorry. I want your anger. I want you to be angry that someone here decided they had the right to murder a brother under your own noses and lie about it.”

The air in the room was thick, the heat rising as men spoke lowly to each other that increased as they discussed it. “So I will give you this one chance. Stand up in front of your men, your brothers and be honest about your own actions before I name you myself.”

Olly looked to you from his seat, your eyes only flickering to him as something inside of you raged. He was at least honest in what he did, and yet none of these men more then twice his age had any bravery to stand up for what they did. Jon died at their hands, because of you, and yet his own murderers were too cowardly to be as honest as he was.

He deserved far better then any of this.

“The Night’s Watch doesn’t answer to any Crown.”

Heads all turned to look at Thorne, and you stood up straighter in your place. You could see Theon far beside you watching curiously. It had been along time since he’d seen this side of you, a long time since you’d even been allowed to be a leader but he could see clear as day the weight on your shoulders.

“But you do.” Theon’s voice was more confident then it had been in years, and he tried not to focus on the heavy weight in your eyes that softened as you looked to him. “You take your orders from the Iron Throne, ask them for resources when you don’t have enough, and take their criminals as your own. She may not rule the Seven Kingdoms, but this is the North, and King Robb being dead doesn’t make her any less Queen in the North. Meaning right now, she’s your Queen, Ser.”

Sighing out you turned back to the room as the room turned to Ser Alliser. Theon had done a lot for you, but he wasn’t about to stop now. He didn’t have all of the details, but clearly finding Jon dead had hurt you harder then it did most people here. Hit you about as hard as he saw you hurt over Robb.

Ser Alliser stood up, the scraping of the stool echoing off the walls. “He already broke his vows. Murdered a brother, lay with a wildling, let those other wildlings into our walls and our lands and he was about to break another just to rescue you.”

You bit your tongue enough it was astounding you didn’t draw blood. The condescension in his tone as if lecturing a misbehaving child from him of all men. He was lucky you didn’t let Ghost tear him apart all those hours ago. “It is not your place to decide what is to be done about those actions. He was your leader.”

No guilt in his tone as he spoke and the rage built so much in your chest the men in the room could’ve heard your heart pounding. Or your muscles shaking with a tingling to leap and act. “And now he’s dead, that doesn’t mean we are going to listen to you.” And yet, not a single man in that room stood up, spoke, or moved a muscle. “I did what I did for the Watch, not to be lectured by a little girl throwing a tantrum over a dead man.”

Even the wind stopped for such a comment. For a second, in his eyes he realized what he said and steeled back as hard as ever. He knew there was no going back now, and it seemed he was confident in his position against yours. Two standing figures staring one another down as your voice was low.

Lower then before and only the sheer quiet in the room allowed everyone to hear it. “Are you confessing to your crime?” Everyone in the room turned to him. Some men looked nervous as it to be called out, Olly sat with a darkened narrow look on his face looking between you both. As if realizing that you truly had not shown him the same strength in power as now.

But the man just looked at you, raising his chin in the air with pride. “He was no brother of mine.”

Your eyes were almost black, muscles in your neck almost shaking from the rush of blood flying through your veins as you stared him down. You had one last card to play against him, and it came simply down to a matter of what side these men’s pendulum swung.

“Take Ser Alliser outside.”

Men all stood at once, slowly but in the intensity of the room it was felt by all as the attention was torn between both. Your voice quiet once more never breaking eye contact. “Olly, bring me a sword.” The boy rushing out without question, as everyone stood in the room.

Some men gathered near him, and you knew he was waiting for his brothers to stand by his side against you. He was confident in his dedication that they viewed his actions all the same, and in an instant that image was shattered to him.

Multiple men grabbed him, dragging the larger and stronger man out the door and down into the courtyard.

The sight of the amount of them all filing out of the room, down the steps and onto the court with a gritted teeth seething Ser Alliser caught the attention of those outside. The free folk with Tormund who all turned with a curiosity at the sight, and above on one of the landings, two more. Slowly making his way to the middle standing right in front of where they dragged him, Ghost watched quiet and tall with eyes so tense they looked almost human.

Selyse Baratheon stood with Ser Davos in a quiet conservation when the men of the Night’s Watch all filed out of their meeting hall. Ser Alliser Thorne in many of their holds being dragged up to a platform as the rest gathered on the ground around it. Both turned with a twisting on their faces at the sight as Edd knocked him down to his knees, neck overtop the wooden stump with an anger on his own that followed many of the faces amongst the crowd.

The sight that caught their attention the most, and the attention of the woman in red lurking nearby was the smaller, shorter figure then most of them descending the steps. Selyse had never seen this side of her eldest daughter before.

Coming to the ground, Olly came up to you and only for a second did you register the white pommel on the edge of the sword’s hilt. He had gone specifically to grab Jon’s own sword where it had been stashed in the Lord Commander’s room. The sword was large and heavy, more then what you were used to but as you grabbed it with your left hand you cared none of it.

The men parted ways to let you pass and it unnerved the approached Ser Alliser how you blinked not once as you came his way. Up onto the steps you stood to the side of him, unsheathing the sword that had been given to Jon personally. Refitted for him personally. It only seemed just to do so with it as you handed it’s holding to Theon.

The rage of the man matched yours as you held the tip of the blade to the ground in your palms. Ghost stepped forward and if the knelt man looked up, he would see the same kind of vile spite in the eyes of a direwolf as you held in your own. An odd sight for such a creature.

You had fought in a battle before, but this was new. You stood alone with this sword and your justice only to be given by you. You had stood by choices like this before, stood by Robb’s side before but now you did alone. And your racing nerves burned inside you. “If you have any last words, Ser Alliser. Speak them now.”

Only the wind was heard. Wind and the scraping as you used both hands to grasp the handle of the blade as he finally turned to you. A hiss in his voice as he held confidence in his actions that made you seethe. “He was a traitor, I should have tossed his corpse outside. Let you freeze to death next to the bastard who loved you so much.”

He never broke eye contact as you stared at him. Your hands screaming at you needing to shake from the strain as you looked into his eyes. You lay dying beside Robb Stark and the gods tore your deaths together from you. And now mocking you that Jon Snow died being betrayed just as his own brother did, and died even more alone then Robb had.

If you could have joined Robb, joined Jon, you would have. He deserved more then this. More then anything this world spat at him. All the Starks did. And in one blinding flash of anger as you recalled the feeling of the wound over his heart you swung it down in one go.

Valyrian steel Maege Mormont said it was. Heavy and sharp like no other blade and in one go, even at the weakness you held from almost a year of captivity, the steel of Longclaw was enough that it took his head in one swing. The faint words of a man as good as your father long gone, telling you if you are to kill a man as such, to look into a man’s eyes. And neither you nor him looked away until there was nothing left in his place.

The men were silent, and as you handed the sword to Theon you felt heavy in your heart. You looked up to the men, and knew one last point to be made before this was over. “There were twelve men involved in your Lord Commander’s murder. I know of two, both have confessed to their crimes and paid the price. Ten brothers among you either stood watching guard or shoved a knife into his chest themselves. Step forward of your own accord. Before I give your names to your brothers for you.”

None moved, and none said a word. If they had considered it, you decided it was too late as you opened your mouth to speak. “Bowen Marsh, Othell Yarwyck-” and in an instant eight other men stepped forward of their own accord, the innocent ones shoving forward the named men trying to cower in the back.

The other men of the Watch begun to circle around them, it made you sick to think Jon died not realizing that when it truly mattered more men were on his side then not and he may have never known it. Marsh and Yarwyck now shoved in front of you, as your eyes looked to the other eight.

“Many of you came here as criminals. They took you here, and your slate was wiped clean and given a new chance. Most of you took that chance and served with honour. These men acted out the same vile actions that sent them here in the first place, and murdered not just their leader, but a brother who fought beside them.”

The eyes above, watching you from both that of the free folk and the trio above were watching carefully. Ghost stepped forward of his own, coming to your side, as if sensing how much you needed someone. You had no choice now, it was your duty to carry this burden and you wouldn’t fail that but doing it like this wasn’t normal. You weren’t Robb, you certainly weren’t Stannis.

“Jon believed there were more important things beyond the wall then whatever rules he may have broken. He understood that we have greater enemies to fight then each other. I am not your leader, I am not one of you, but we are going to have to put that passed us if we are to survive what’s coming.”

Ghost didn’t move, but you could feel a rumble in his chest at your words. “Tomorrow we wipe that slate clean again, you came forward and the punishment of your own brothers knowing the atrocities you committed will be shameful enough.”

And as you stood in the remains of the day, most of the men understanding that tomorrow was to start fresh, you felt no relief in what had been done. Jon was still dead, and you still had one more thing to do before this horror of a day was to come to an end. At this rate, you hoped that end would come in consuming enough alcohol to kill a horse and sleep until the gods forced you back into the world.

In your fathers quarters, you looked over the work along his desk, and some of Jon’s own work you had Olly bring to you. You had no idea the state of things here at all and that days end looked further and further away the more into a headache you spun.

It was Tormund who came to see you first, looking around unimpressed and even moreso as he landed on the work on the desk. Sitting down in the chair he looked at you finally an expression slipping into curiously, “Didn’t think a pretty crow like you had that in you.”

Dropping the paper you leaned back in the seat with a sigh. “I wasn’t sure I did either. But it needed to be done so I did it.” You had paused, glancing up to him with a disturbed curiosity of your own. “I know it won’t take back what happened, or mean much coming from me, but I’m sorry for what my father did to Mance Rayder.” Tormund’s eyebrows rose in a suprise as you elaborated. “He didn’t deserve to die like that...no one deserves to die like that.”

Jon had given him the mercy ultimately, shot an arrow into his heart just as the fires begun to make Mance scream in pain. You weren’t sure if that would have infuriated your father, or secretly impressed him for the courage it took to so brazenly go against his law.

Inhaling deeply, he leaned forward arms laying across his knees. “Mean fucker, your old man.” It was such a weird thing to do, but you laughed. A genuine laugh that took both him and Theon quiet off to the side by total suprise.

“Try being raised by him. I’m shocked I have any social skills whatsoever.” Tormund chuckled himself, and even if he didn’t outloud, Theon felt it inside his chest. Was that ever true. Your first week getting to know the Greyjoy he was convinced you were a complete bitch and the Starks must be delusional to even remotely like you. It sure didn’t stay that way, clearly. He had a sister out there who just might want to know he’s alive, but the woman who felt more like a sister that Theon cared about the most, was the one sitting here in this very room.

Tormund’s voice was low and crackling, a slight amusement still trained in tone. “Got no reason to accept your apology. You didn’t burn him alive, pretty crow. Gave Thorne out there a nicer death then your father did Mance, bumps you up a few notches in my opinion.”

Your eyes glanced to the side of the desk with Jon’s own writings and you felt sick at the sight of it. “I’ve never had to do this alone. Leading like this.”

Looking up at him, you felt surprised that such a giant, thundering man could look so quiet in his expression. “He said you were married to his brother. Always wondered what you were like as a Queen and would get angry knowing he’d never get the chance. Almost sickening how much he loved you.”

There was no point in hiding it, he was dead and so was Robb. What was there to hide anymore but from your own pain? Theon could only try and connect dots he never knew existed before. “The thought of coming here, the one person here I never thought I’d see again, after everyone spent, what? A year thinking I was dead? Hell sometimes I thought I was, sure didn’t feel like a real person for a long time.”

Leaning forward a bit, Tormund grumbled, “Don’t think he quite felt like one either after you.” Hand gesturing to Ghost sitting beside you he commented, “Never seen him act quite like this before. Got wolves falling for you everywhere you go.”

A low growl left Ghost, only calmed as you narrowed your eyes and reached over running a hand over his fur. “Well, I’m not the only one who lost Jon. I don’t know if it’s because he recognizes me, or if he can somehow sense his own brother on me but..he needs someone who understands him. I suppose I just hope he doesn’t hate me for getting his owner killed.”

Ghost growled louder, nipping at your hand as he did so before settling as Theon spoke. “You killed the man who got him killed, had nothing to do with you.” You didn’t really believe that, first you failed Robb and now you got Jon killed what more damage could you possible have done. You didn’t even know why Jon still cared about you enough to try and come find you like that. Or if it was just out of a sense of obligation because you were his brothers widow.

Those soft days with him in Winterfell didn’t even feel real anymore, like it was a fantasy you dreamed up in your grief and maybe Jon hated you all along. Would that have made this easier or harder?

“We need to burn him.” Your eyes flickered back to Tormund’s in anger. “By nightfall he’ll have been there almost a day, only gets more dangerous the longer we wait. Things happen to the dead this far North.”

You had seen dreams of blue eyes and rising corpses around you. “We’re not burning him.” Tormund tried to speak but you grew louder. “I’m not burning him. I-”

Your head fell to your hands as your elbows rested up on the desk as you collected yourself, finally letting them drop flat against the desk once more. “I can’t bury Robb in Winterfell. I don’t know what they did with the rest of his body or if it still exists. He belongs there next to his father and I can’t do anything about it.” Your voice finally cracked, you barley spoke of it to Theon, until now. “I’m not doing the same to Jon. That’s his family, he belongs in his home. He belongs in Winterfell and I’m bringing him back.”

Ghost nudged your side but you didn’t take notice as Tormund warned, “If something happens-”

“Then I’ll deal with it myself. You said Jon killed some of those things with this,” Your hands reaching back to where Longclaw hung around your chair and bringing it to sit flat across the desk, running your fingers over the pommel. Just like Maege said, Jeor Mormont had it forged to look just like Ghost. “Something happens to him, I will deal with it myself but no one is burning him. I’m bringing him home where he belongs. I couldn’t do it for his brother, so let me at least do it now.”

Theon quietly called your name but you shook your head. Unable to look at either of them, he got the message thankfully. “Okay then, no one goes near him. Edd said the doors are locked to everyone but us right now, so we keep it that way.” You nodded without looking at him really.

You felt like a child for thinking it, but it wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. You inhaled deeply as you sat up straighter, “Is- are they all out there finally, Theon?”

He nodded, opening the door to let the group in, Olly seemed to have correctly thought safer to keep them waiting outside until you were ready. You had one more thing to do tonight and maybe this day could finally end. Maybe you could end with it.

Ser Davos walked in with your mother, and Lady Melisendre with them as Olly closed the door after you shook your head at Tormund’s silent ask if he should leave. Call if grief for losing a friend, but he found you curious, and had no qualms about sticking around to find out why he thought so.

Walking up to lean against the front of the desk, your arms crossed you looked at the floor before up to one individual. You needed the truth, the plain truth on this one. “Ser Davos, tell me what happened.”

It was awful. In the confusion of the letter and not knowing what happened yet to Jon, two people came to a conclusion of what to do. The letter now sat in your pocket, you knew what it said. King Stannis Baratheon had been claimed dead by Ramsay in battle, and with no word from him or his armies, what were they to believe but it’s words?

King’s blood she said. Only King’s blood can be used as a sacrifice to the Lord of Light, and only powerful blood could bring the King back. You had smelt the faint traces of smoke that morning but you didn’t know what it was, now you did and you were sick and angry and wanted to smash something until your hand bled.

There was only one with King’s Blood. Only one that you hadn’t seen in so long, one who didn’t even know you were alive and yet she was allowed to be dragged to a pyre. Your eyes rose up to your mothers, the sadness there evident as your voice whispered. “She was your daughter. You thought she was your only daughter left. Let’s say it worked, it brought him back do you really think he would be grateful you murdered his only living heir to do so?”

Stepping forward, the red woman tried to placate. “Princess, it was a necessary-”

“She’s not your princess. She’s your Queen.” Her eyes narrowed at Theon’s but you raised your hand to quiet both of them.

Looking over to Davos once more you could see the pain, you knew he loved Shireen like she was his own daughter, it was impossible not to she was just a bundle of joy that was so rare in this cursed family. “Your grace, this is not the first time such a thing has been done. Using the blood of your family for her dark magic claiming it was all in the name of this god. If burning a child isn’t evil to her, I don’t know what else she would be willing to sacrifice.”

She smiled at him and it made you as angry as it did Davos uncomfortable. “It is not evil, Ser Davos. I merely do what the lord bids me to do, he works through me I do not work in favour of him. The princess was given up as a sacrifice willingly-”

Something in your mother however, snapped. The slap was harsh and yet Melisendre did not reel from it. Just as her daughter begun to scream, she pleaded for it to stop. Convinced of the desperation only to the point where her actions had consequences. A running crime against the people you loved.

With no one in charge, the King gone and dead and non yet realizing Jon laid dead himself it took some chaos to get her down. But you hadn’t gone to see Shireen for a reason, Davos that morning when he came to see you finally had told you then. She was in a very bad place, and there was little that could be done but keep her asleep for her own good.

Looking to Olly, you had sent him much earlier to see in on the situation. It kept him away from the others and kept you in the loop. He shook his head, and your own hung as a lump formed in your throat.

“My dear, there is only one way to bring the King back to us. Only blood can be traded for life and the Lord knows he is needed here and not with the dead. Let me finish the ritual, let me do you a kindness and bring your father back to you.” You bit your tongue, and Ghost begun to growl as she tried stepping to you. “You’ve lost many you love today, but I can save your father as long as you let me-”

It was a strange set of seconds. Something in you burned so angry that you were about to reach out and hit her yourself until you restrained it, but in turn Ghost had tried to move forward with a snap of his teeth. Only kept back by you reaching out to grasp the fur along his back. The direwolf standing back to look at you as if asking why.

You could see the distress finally hit your mother again, the distress you hadn’t seen last night.

“You can’t, please it was a mistake, I tried to stop her.” Pleading your name you hated that you knew Shireen would call it in the same way during scared storms in the middle of the night. “We find someone else, don’t let her do this-”

“There is no one else, unless the Queen is to give her own life up.” Melisendre eyed Ghost with disdain as she spoke. “However I’m not inclined to think the wolf will allow it.” Arguing ensued between the three of them. Theon and Olly watching it unfold, and Tormund knowing already what you were doing to have to do.

He’d seen the burning, it wasn’t something any could endure and survive. Shocked the little princess managed to hold out as long as she had, kept under deep sleep the pain so great. You looked down to Ghost, then up to Tormund in the fight between the two women and Davos. “How long will it take to build a small fire just north of the wall?”

His voice as quiet as yours, “Not long. We stay by the gate and we can keep it going long as you need, right?” Looking down with an almost amused raise of an eyebrow to Ghost.

“Lady Melisendre,” Your voice was loud and commanding, shutting down each of their arguments in the overpowering tone. “You are to stay away from my mother. From me, and all of us. Olly, escort the lady to her room and ensure she stays there for the night.”

Opening the door, he waited a second before walking over to her himself. You stared at her as she did you, first her vile lies about Robb and now she left your sister to die in agony. You wouldn’t look at her a second longer, but she left with no more argument.

“Ser Davos, go with my mother. Tormund and Theon find Edd and wait for me just outside the gate. If it must be done. I will do it myself.”

Theon met your eyes, and he knew this was going to take longer then anyone expected. The final strike of the day, the only person you had left that you truly loved, you had to end her pain yourself, and after that what did you really have? To you, this was the cost of your sins coming back tenfold to show you how cursed you were to live the remainder of your life.

He knew the look in your eye, and as you walked passed all of them. None followed.

The path to the Maesters quarters was quiet, little movement in the now dark skies above Castle Black as the few who you passed said nothing. The far look in your eye was all that needed to be said at this point. It didn’t occur to you at all, but for the first time that day Ghost did not follow you. Instead his path went down stairs to a darkness that held a secret the direwolf had no true way of explaining in this state.

The one watching her left almost as soon as you walked in. Your footsteps slow as you approached the figure in the sheets. Sitting on the bed next to her you reached up to run a hand over her face. You barley recognized her. They had kept her asleep because the scarring across her body would kill her from the shock. You didn’t even see your baby sister in the burns.

You had been atop your horse on Dragonstone the last time you saw her, having run over to you once more to give you a tight hug before she stood on the cliff watching you go. You had promised her that the next time you saw her, you’d take her underground to see the beauty of the reds and purples and greens of the deepest Dragonglass.

Tears fell freely this time, she didn’t even know you were alive and she’d be gone before you could ever tell her how much you loved her. Running along the greyscale on her face you remembered the day you got to hold her finally.

She would always tug at your hair yanking it to rest her little forehead against yours and you both adored the physical contact. She was only a baby, she didn’t remember or understand it but the cracked skin along her face told the story enough. She was beautiful regardless of what any said.

Pulling a dagger from your side, you felt shaken, choking on the inside as you ran your hand once more over her. The tears were heavy and your breathing was laboured. The Lord of Light demanded a burning but he would never take her alive, not like this, not again. She didn’t deserve that.

Neither people deserved their deaths on this day. And both were your fault in some way.

But as you pulled the dagger up, you pulled her hair back and put it at the back of her neck. You refused to let her die in anymore pain, draw it out anymore and do her the kindness of not running through her front. As you sat there, your stomach burned. Burning where you had been stabbed over and over that night and you had no way of knowing it’s truth.

But finally, as the only sound other then the crackling of the fire ran through the air and put an end to Shireen’s suffering, your eyes closed this time, as it was too much for even you to bare. Laying next to the curious state of a white direwolf though, in that same moment in the faint firelight of the ice cells?

A pair of grey eyes opened slowly in the silence.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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ck-sims · 3 months

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Hunter's Glen Modular Arena

This hunter-jumper course was built in collaboration with @pixelpony-ccfinds. They asked me if I was willing to build a course to showcase their new Hunter-over-Fences set, and, as ever, I was delighted to do so. Hunter's Glen is a 50x40 lot built in Henford-on-Bagley, but it could honestly be placed anywhere as the landscaping is pretty generic. I created two courses in order to properly showcase each jump. Each jump is fully functional, however, due to the layout of each course and spacing of the jumps, it might be tricky to actually use them during actual gameplay; this lot was built with posed screenshots in mind. Ringside, there is a posh little seating area with a fancy rustic bar for spectators to enjoy.

I would like to thank @walnuthillfarm and @equinista for answering my questions regarding hunter-jumper courses and helping me figure out how to lay out each course. Without them, I'm sure I'd still be trying to figure things out.

Modular arena, you say? What's a modular arena?

This is a system I've been using to build most of my arenas lately - I place down a room, adjust it to the size I want my arena to be, delete the ceiling, and replace the walls with fences. Since each course layout is an individual 'room', all I have to do to switch between them is click the room, delete it, and then swap the layout I want into the empty spot. This has allowed me to make multiple configurations of an arena on the same lot, without having to save each lot over and over again. As such, this download comes with tray files for the lot itself (with Course 1 pre-loaded), Course 1, Course 2, and an empty arena for you to DIY to your heart's content!

This lot is built with items from Basegame, Horse Ranch, and My Wedding Stories and possibly Jungle Adventures?.

All CC is included in the file, but can also be found here:

Hunter over Fences set by @pixelpony-ccfinds

Outdoor Arena Sand by @pure-winter-cc

BOTW plants by FakePikachu (can you find the Korok flower?)

Chateau Rug & Colonial Bar by @felixandresims

Wine & Flowers by @plumbobteasociety

Deco Wine Glasses by @imfromsixam

Ivy by @syboubou

Course layouts and jump previews are under the cut!

-- DOWNLOAD --

#Ts4 horse cc #ts4 equestrian cc #sims 4 horse cc #sims 4 equestrian cc #ts4 equestrian #sims 4 equestrian #ts4 horses #sims 4 horses #ts4 horse ranch #sims 4 horse ranch #sims horses #my cc #!!!

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solitus17utopia · 3 months

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" ain't nobody in here that can say that I did you wrong — i did enough, "

Blade was a man of high caliber in terms of mastering the sword. Possessing the ability to steer terror to nearby wanderers and far ones alike, displaying little, if any, of the humane emotions. Sanity diminished; he is a riddle with multiple tricks and traps, but it seemed you can solve the puzzle, finding the trapdoor to his heart. In return, he won't let you go and will keep you safe under all costs. A win-win situation.

pronouns — you.

genre — fluff.

c.warning — unspecified and un-excessive mention of stalking. but, intentionally light.

✧ Blade. — The 0.01%.

Blade was an imposing figure, a man with a high figure tied to is appearance on electronic posters. An immortal desensitised to the dark hues that paint the floors of the planet, living with just a set of clothes and sword in his hand. Blade, was someone stripped of his empathy, the parasympathetic arousal people receive on days with sunny skies and gloomy greys alike, deprived of him.

Surely, Aeons forbid, you could not have been the exception to that strict code of conduct? Nevertheless, when the light begins to flick from its usual dimness, Kafka and Silver Wolf were first to notice the clear infatuation Blade denied himself of.

It was an ironic scene of the multiple acts of tragedy in the swordsman's life. One he had boldly, proclaiming "intrusively, don't be ridiculous,", fallen into. But, if that was truly the case, why hadn't he left? He insists persistently that it's because of the fact that you were not capable of protecting yourself, and that trouble would stir for him if he were to let you misguided into a trap of a cunning snake.

Regardless of the profuse repudiation that spilt from his astute tongue, uniformly, the vermilion-eyed Hunter repudiated letting you awry from from his million-mile stare, a similarity to his primal emotions that failed to be brushed underneath the rugged carpet.

The sky that blanketed the hexafleet was a hex code of bright blue, or primarily what majority label as sky blue. Streets were bustling with the population of the people, streets venders placed here and there and children occasionally seen running about. An appearing picturesque day for productivity and pleasantry. If the navy-haired individual behind your back was able to be ignored in the bright lighting with his contrary colours.

Usual daunting aura surrounding him, he had no intention of relinquishing away from your figure. Not when there was multiple, various and a spectrum of dangers lurking in the light and even shadows for you. Even if the Luofu is confirmed to be a safe place for everyday citizens, Blade printed a glare to keep an eye on you. He would not validate it any other way; his behaviour so, so divergent to his character even passing eyes would notice so — it had become routine. But, they would not dare to act tomfoolery on a stage in front of an exiled criminal of the area, would they? No, unless they had a death wish.

Fortunately, no one disrupted the serenity that clouded your soul for the time being. So, Blade would only let short number of his receptors down. Sensing absence in people surrounding you, he decided to approach you. Placing an 'Immortal's Delight' on the table of the open café you sat at, a glint of subtle serotonin behind the inks in his irises at the surprised look you emitted. "Don't overwork yourself," even if Blade does not want others to see him, a man of immense depth and vulnerability, he could not stand others to be the great interest of your gaze. And, he was more than willing to pick his sword at one they did. But, he would be lying as well if he were to say the tiny bundles of happiness you reciprocated in return to his gesture. It was worth every scar he got for you.

— alex's comments on this matter : i wrote this on such a whim. on such a whim. and surprisingly, it turned out well, with a little drabble. i hope you guys like it. ^^

#⧼ ✣ ⧽ TO THE MANAGEMENT DEPARTMENT #⧼ ✣ ⧽ FOREIGN AFFIRMATION RECOGNITION.#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr headcannons #honkai star rail headcannons #blade x reader #blade scenarios #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade x gender neutral reader #blade headcannons #hoyoverse #mihoyo

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spotlightlowlife · 4 months

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Charlie and Lucifer have a disney counterpart

Ozzie and Bee too a little

There is a beloved and happily sidelined disney ruler who dispite having the occasional moments of power, may well be a keen candidate for 'all the fun and none of the responsibility' personified.

Who is none other than......

The Sultan of Aladdin.

Think about it and if you're not all to familiar, know that the sultan is a friendly, goofy, cute, supportive loving little dad

who doesn't want to 'work'. By work, I mean the dirty work that goes into being a leader. Those tough decisions that will undoubtedly be unpopular among some.

This guy leads a nation, yet right from the start, the moment Jafar, the villain, his adviser, shows up with work, the jolly sultan shows the exasperation of a child being asked about their homework.

Though when it comes to going along with his teenage daughter wishes, sweet and idealistic as they are but realistically would have repercussions, he's down for it, because his daughter is his princess and her happiness is his happiness, end of story, everyone is happy.

He was clearly born into power.

Who was born or spawned into power?

Lucifer.

Someone who fell into his own dimension where his mysterious, probably problematic estrained wife who married into power, thrives or thrived. He is pride, the leader of 7 sins, who runs the pride ring but dies he really? He is shown to have no pride but it's OK because he's depressed.

Lucifer is a cute, silly little dad whose daughter is the apple of his eye and ultimately, Charlie gets what she wants, because if it makes her happy, it makes him happy.

Though like sultan he's right there as his precious daughter stands by a con artist who feels entitled to her (and the lifestyle she can provide him with clearly).

The other 6 individuals rule their sins and namesake regions, who like Lucifer are 'nice', can too be selective over what areas of their sin they choose to acknowledge.

Valentino is pretty much Ozzie's evil, very productive twin, some sinner a micro fraction of his age.

Bee could be a spokesperson for addiction awareness, but will she do more than speak, at the loved ones to pull an intervention?

All whilst being the one encouraging the overindulgence.

Let us not forget two small time demons who link both Ozzie of lust and Bee of gluttony together. Substance addicted Barbiewire and Verosika. We may not have seen a lot of them but like Valentino, they achieved plenty.

Barbie can travel freely to earth using one if Ozzie's crystals in order to smuggle hard d rugs. Job made easier by seducing a teenager.

Non-con welcoming Verosika travelled to earth to influence a load of youths with her team of fellow sexdemons.

She also bough beeljuice along with her which caused a massive scene.

Who will regulate such frowned upon actions?

Now back to new leader and leading character of her series, Charlie.

Like sultan, Charlie has help

in the form of someone she atleast knew to be sinister when she took him on. Someone who hardly hides his much they want what their boss has. That someone ofcourse being Alastor

who like Jafar would be of a lower social class, work hard, gain power and influence and be willing to scheme and sleaze his way into that powerful family.

Like sultan, Charlie is happy, nice, silly, dismissive to what it doesn't suit her to address, irresponsible, is being carried along in leadership

and is quick to see everyone as wonderful and equal without stopping to think that those who sit at the top may do something about such pushes.

Aladdin gets away with it being a family film where we follow the Alastor/Aladdin character in getting what they want, but Hazbin and Helluva, hopefully time will tackle some holes.

#helluva boss fandom #hazbin hotel charlie #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #disney paralleles #hazbin hotel lucifer #helluva boss asmodeus #helluva boss beelzebub #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #disney aladdin

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cock-holliday · 3 months

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I think that individualist theorists are important to learn from in the areas where collectivist theory fails (or sets itself up to fail), while still maintaining my sense of striving for betterment FOR a collective. Where individualism fails is in thinking “I got mine, fuck you,” but where collectivism fails is in creating a sense of duty and obligation that makes it easier to force people to fall in line—the crux of the fucking issue to begin with, right?

I WANT people to think for themselves and to act independent of a sense of duty…for the overall betterment of everyone. Of course I want the liberation of everyone—an injury to one is an injury to all, your struggle is my struggle and our paths are intertwined etc etc but forfeiting individual roles both speeds up burnout and makes group dissent impossible.

“You should care about x struggle because you should just care naturally” sure, but this strategy isolates each struggle from each other and isolates YOU from the struggle. “I am not x but I’ll care because I’m nice” survives as long as the fight doesn’t destroy you. You cannot martyr for every individual cause one at a time out of obligation.

“This hurts YOU, which is connected to what hurts ME, so together we are fighting for each other” is a much more sustainable practice.

Without personal connection, it is difficult to keep going, it is difficult to not feel split between struggles, and guilt becomes a tool you either self-destruct with, or it can be used to manipulate your actions. We cannot oust abusers because it would “harm the collective.” When one leader is removed, it’s over because my obligation was to that group above my own individual action. I cannot question the authority leadership of our group because it will undermine the Collective.

Self-preservation becomes ‘selfishness,’ all efforts not going to the cause become ‘unimportant,’ and dissent from within will be crushed unceremoniously. A new state is born, a new leader is chosen. The cycle repeats. What are we even fighting for if not to better all of our own lives together?

I don’t want to trade one lord for another, I don’t want my neighbors to be content with submission, I don’t want complacency.

I will fight for my neighbor any day, but I am not their savior. I am not their lord. They should be the arbiter of their future, like I should be mine. Rejecting a total melting into a collective is essential to resist tyranny from outside and within, not for the sake of “rugged individualism” but to actually ensure we all are really free.

Autonomy above all else, for the good of us all.

#anarchism #anarchy #LJsm #I recognize that individualism vs collectivism is often a false dichotomy #and many therorists of each camp have wildly different definitions for each #but the general sense of each is what I’m referring to #I also don’t think very many of the individualists even ARE ‘fuck you I got mine’ as they are framed #due to capitalistic rugged individualism and right wing ‘anarchists’ aka libertarians and ancaps

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s-creations · 2 months

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Comes in Waves - Free Day

Entries for the 2024 RadioStatic Week.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Rating: Teen and Up Audience Relationship: Alastor/Vox Additional Tags: Cursing, Angst, Fluff and Angst, I'll try and write a good mix of both happy and sad, They're both idiots when it comes to love.

Alastor was an individual who liked to be in control.

When he was alive, it was the ease at which he could go with finding his next kill. The enjoyment and thrill of planning, executing, and learning from each endeavor. It was listening to the latest reports on his murder sprees and squirming with delight in knowing the authorities had no clue as to what they were doing when trying to catch him. Above all, it was Alastor using his appearance and twisted words to make anyone follow him.

Men, women, it didn’t matter. If he found them interesting enough, he could ensnare anyone. Alastor knew he had the face that easily stuck out from a crowd but looked so ‘innocent’ that he’d been off the radar before too long. He held the right *ahem* coloring to be either someone’s greatest sinful thought or territorial fantasy. His voice was easy on the ears that carried a vocabulary that would make even a politician be stunned into silence. The promises that Alastor could offer brought any needy soul to his doorstep.

People were easy to fool. Trick. Manipulate. All met with a treat of something that Alastor would never produce for them. Because they were playthings. Mere toys for him to mess around with until he grew bored and realized the other had outgrown their usefulness.

They were all so desperate to see what he could provide.

Too bad for them, a good idea of a ‘thrust’ was vastly different from what Alastor was after.

When he’d arrived in Hell, Alastor didn’t feel all that much had changed. The difference this time being his rather smug attitude and indifference made other demons believe he was a walking joke. Someone who would be dead dead within the month of his fall because he’d be careless and crossed the wrong person.

Oh, how foolish.

All they had given him was another form of manipulation. Another element of surprise.

Another element of control.

When he’d taken down his first Overlord, Alastor spent 10 minutes, standing in that alleyway, laughing. Laughing his head off as if he’d been told the best joke ever. The sound seeming to echo through the relatively quiet area of Hell.

He didn’t think it’d be that easy. Surely someone who’d claimed to be so powerful and spent so much time putting Alastor down, that must have meant something. Right? Mayhaps Alastor was far stronger than even he realized. Did that matter? No. Because it allowed him to pull the rug out from others far faster than he originally planned.

He just needed a little more power.

Just a bit.

Enough to have a gaggle of underlings to constantly mock, enough screams to provide proof of what he’d done, and power to keep himself among the elite.

But never call him an Overlord.

Oh no.

No.

He was something better.

Something that would be feared by and nervously watched over.

He was the Radio Demon.

He had control.

This place was made for him and he was going to take full advantage of it.

And the Vox arrived.

Truthfully, their first encounter was a chance one. Built off of the fact Alastor just so happened to be walking by an alleyway. Which just so happened to be filled with the very gang that had called him out at least a week ago for a ‘fight’. Who just so happened to be focusing on a new arrival instead of how the air was suddenly filled with static.

Well, who was Alastor to pass up just a wonderful opportunity?

It was barely a fight. But Alastor was able to get his blood flow quota in and was counting it as a good cap for the afternoon. His enjoyment of slaughter came to a halt when he finally saw the new arrival.

Well, it actually ended when there wasn’t a single gang member still alive.

Semantics.

The point still remains that Alastor was a little…taken aback with seeing the other. He’d become painfully aware of the rise in technology and the new things being produced back on the living world. Mainly for the fact those same movements were making their way down here. It made it a little harder to remind everyone of the proper form of media and entertainment. But just a little. He was still able to hijack a lot of equipment that worked on similar frequencies and waves.

The fact was for the quick growth Hell was experiencing, there weren’t a lot of sinners that were closely tied with technology. Some did have little parts of their form changed. Maybe they had a cable that produced from their neck. Or their eyes were actually light bulbs. Small changes such as that were pretty common.

However, having a giant as all could be television for a head was…different. Drastic. It had Alastor pondering what that fellow had gone through before passing away to deserve that as his form for an eternity.

Not to be overly bothered by it, Alastor had sent the new arrival on his way. Providing directions to Cannibal Town and Rosie’s name to guidance before departing. With the mind that he’d never been seeing the other again. The city was big afterall. And Alastor had other worries than that of the physical formation of new technology.

Except it wasn’t that easy.

It felt that Alastor was running into the heavy headed demon almost on a weekly basis for how often the other just…appeared. The Radio Demon couldn’t conclude that the other was stalking him. Afterall, said demon looked just as surprised to see Alastor when they’d meet up once more. With an air that couldn’t be faked. Just wonderful happenstance that would bring them together.

Truthfully, Alastor attempted at first to keep the other at a safe distance. He didn’t want to have to worry about the information provided by another demon. He had enough on his plate. Plus, having a ‘partner’ of any kind made his skin crawl.

Yes, Rosie and he were friends. That was a bond created by necessity as the female cannibal was the reason Alastor was even here still.

Just as with the other demon…

It didn’t matter. Alastor didn’t want it.

Too bad the other demon seemed impervious to Alastor’s clear warning signs. Or just didn’t care overall. He’d happily provided his newly, self appointed name (“Vox, has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”), how he’d accidentally both shocked another sinner and plunged a city block into a black out (“Electricity based powers, who knew?”). At each turn, Alastor put up an air of clear indifference. Offering a small hum or a condescending “How interesting.” in hopes that his want of space would be recognized.

Much to his annoyance, Alastor still ran into Vox by random chance. And Vow was always happy to see him.

The first time Alastor had shown any kind of interest in what Vox was managing, he should have run. He should have physically put as much space between them as possible. Because he should have recognized he would start his descent into wanting the other around.

Alastor had found Vox in one of the many parks Hell seemed to spawn. This one in particular spouted a rather impressive lake that was a deep red yet somehow was still able to reflect the sky above clearly. His afternoon walk of terrorizing and hunting was put on pause when red eyes flickered over to a familiar form sitting by the edge of said water.

Vox was hunched over. Working furiously on something in his hands that Alastor couldn’t see from this point.

Now, the Radio Demon wasn’t a stranger to the things Vox could make. Namely pieces of technology and electrical doodads that Alastor had no interest in. The radio was a fine invention and the rotary phone worked wonders. Why push for more? Seemed like an annoyance, if anyone had been so kind as to ask Alastor his opinion on the matter.

What had caused Alastor to pause that day was the fact that he couldn’t find one scrap of mechanical what-not near Vox. Instead, a pile of some kind of shaving was resting at his feet. Steadily growing as Vox continued to work.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Alastor crept forward. Stunned for a moment in realizing that Vox was actually whittling. Slowly carving away at a piece of wood instead of trying to bash two pieces of mechanical equipment together. Alastor couldn’t see what the other was making. He could tell that Vox was putting as much effort into it as possible.

“Well, what do we have here?” Alastor finally broke the calm.

Vox gave a yelp that, later on, he would deny vehemently that he’d ever make such a noise. As it was, he merely stood up and quickly hid what he’d been working on behind him. So quickly that Alastor momentarily believed that the poor demon had stabbed himself with the knife, with how uncaring he’d been about its placement.

“Alastor!” Vox shouted out. He coughed and cleared his throat before continuing, “Hey…you, um, what are you doing here?”

“I feel that I should be asking you the same thing. Don’t you have a studio or something for you to work at? Yet you picked by the side of a lake to create something. How interesting.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t want to be crammed in there all day. I may like to work, but I’m not that crazy.” Vox gave a weak shrug, still holding his hands behind his back. “A change of scenery is nice. I…didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Afternoon strolls do wonders to keep my mind clear. But don’t be changing the subject to me. I would think that your delicate equipment and electrical pieces wouldn’t work well around water.”

Alastor’s brow raised as he watched in silent fascination as Vox’s screen flickered for a brief moment. Showing snow before settling back down to his facial features once more.

“...It’s not something electrical that I’m working on.” The Media Demon offered weakly.

Which only peeked Alastor’s interest more. “Well, you can’t just leave me hanging with that statement. Let me take a quick gander at what you’re working on?”

“I mean- It’s not that important! Just a little hobby I picked up, stupid really. You’ll just…laugh.”

“Well, I am in the mood for a good chuckle.”

“That’s not what I mea- Hey!”

Vox’s panic grew when a shadow tendril emerged from the ground and wrapped around what he’d been hiding. He made no move to gather it back as it was deposited into the awaiting Radio Demon’s hand.

Whatever Alastor had been expecting…it wasn’t this.

It was a small wooden figure, mainly that of a deer resting on what was just a lump of wood. The creation was only partially finished with the majority of the focus being on said deer. Even with how little had been created, the details that Alastor could see were impressive, to say the least. He was taken aback for a moment to think that someone so reliant on technology as Vox would take up a hobby, an interest, such as this.

“Is…it bad?”

Alastor blinked a few times, realizing rather late that he’d been quiet for a few minutes as he’d looked the figure over. Vox’s tone of anxiousness pulled him back over to the Media Demon.

“I…can’t give proper judgment on this,” Alastor started, “Afterall, you’re…clearly not finished yet. I do like what I see so far… When did you take up carving?”

“A while ago,” Vox answered as he drew closer, “I wanted something to do with my hands that was just building the latest…whatever. Don’t get me wrong, I like what I make. But it can be so..boring, exhausting, I get stuck in a rut and…I just wanted to create without having it needing to be the best thing ever.”

“Yet you asked for my approval?”

“You don’t demand things from me.”

Oh.

Alastor felt himself tense slightly as an unfamiliar feeling seemed to grow in his stomach. Which only became worse when Vox reached out to take his creation back and their fingers brushed together.

The Radio Demon cleared his throat. “You seem to have started off strong.”

“You don’t think this is stupid? You know…carving wood?”

“When you say it like that, yes. If you don’t want people to judge you for what makes you happy, then you need to create an air of indifference.”

Vox frowned softly, “But…I need feedback to grow better.”

“Ah, but there’s a difference between feedback and someone being an ass.” Alastor’s smile softened hearing the other snort, “You don’t need my approval, or anyone else's, to do what makes you happy. Constructive criticism is not a bad thing.”

“Besides, I think you’ve found something that will help you become…well rounded. Get you away from your constant need for flashing lights and screens.”

Vox laughed softly, “I’ll admit, it is a nice break… Thanks, Alastor.”

Oh.

That weird feeling hit him once more. Alastor felt the need to collect himself before he tried to move or speak. He’d never experienced this sensation before. It wasn’t bad…but it wasn’t good either. It was confusing, and he didn’t like being confused.

Maybe if had known then what he knew now, Alastor would have put that space between them.

But like a fool, he didn’t. Because he wasn’t aware of what was happening.

Like a cliche, he only realized what had happened after he fell so far.

Because after that meeting, Alastor had started to notice…little things about the Media Demon.

His overly charismatic and rather loud personality that Alastor hated was just a performance. One that Vox put on to have an air of superiority around other demons who he didn’t know or didn’t trust. When alone, however, Vox was nothing more than a grown child talking eagerly about his interests, his ideas, his plans for the future. Things that only Alastor had the privilege of knowing about. Which made Alastor feel just that much more special to the other demon.

While Vox’s control was over technology, namely those with electricity, he was clearly more than just a one-note individual. Beyond the wood carving, Vox also held a passion for music. One that wouldn’t necessarily rival Alastor’s knowledge, but that did impress the Radio Demon. Even if their conversations of the topic would more often than not end with them dancing together. Or, rather, Alastor teaching Vox how to dance and resulted in them both laughing like fools as they sat on the floor with their feet hurting for different reasons.

There was also the point that Vox's interests seemed to fluctuate from time to time. The Media Demon would have a new bullet point list of interesting topics he’d discovered that he’d read down when he and Alastor met up. The Radio Demon took note for himself that Vox’s interest more often than not revolved around sharks. Which is rather ironic as he was now a being who could be severely damaged or even killed by water if he wasn’t careful. But no matter the topic, Vox was the only sinner that Alastor could happily listen to ramble for hours.

For a while, Alastor was content with the situation. He was happy with the relation that he and Vox seemed to share. He felt strangely comfortable and at ease around the Media Demon, who was clearly happy to give Alastor the time of day whenever needed.

Then Valentino entered into their lives.

Alastor was only properly introduced to the moth during one of Vox’s large parties. Which he insisted helped him find new souls to exploit and build his still rather small business at the time, but Alastor found these gatherings more than annoying. After all, he could only destroy so many cameras from the media attempting to take his photo before he became bored. But, Alastor knew the other liked his presence there, offering silent moral support. And who was he to say no?

He fully believed that he would be walking into the same situation as before. Alastor remaining near Vox while the other worked his way around the room to gather what he needed. It was something they’d been doing for years now. Something that didn’t need words to be exchanged to know what needed to happen.

But as he crossed the large doors to Vox’s tower, Alastor’s eyes landed on a situation that made his insides freeze and burn at the same time.

A thin and tall moth demon, with wings a brilliant red wrapped around them, was leaning down to give Vox their full attention. Seeming uncaring as to what the Media Overlord was actually saying but was watching the other with a hunger in their eyes that Alastor did not like.

In a blink of an eye, the Radio Demon was by Vox’s side. His smile strained as he easily stared the moth down. Who had stood back, no doubt surprised by the other’s sudden appearance. Vox, however, paused in his ramblings and offered Alastor a wide smile.

“Alastor, you finally showed up! Thought you’d try skipping this one.” Vox said with a laugh.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Alastor’s eyes briefly traveled up and down over the moth demon, “But I see that you’ve already started perusing the room.”

“Kind of. To be honest, Valentino just walked up and started asking a few questions. He says he has some ideas that could help with the future of the business.”

“Oh, you should know better than to take the words of some lesser demon at face value. I taught you better than that.” Alastor reached out to gently pinch the corner of Vox’s screen. Who just laughed and pushed him away.

Red eyes casually looked back over to this Valentino, Alastor more than happy to see how upset the moth now appeared.

Aw, did someone not like Vox’s attention away from them?

The feeling was mutual.

“So tell me, what delusional grandeurs do you have to offer to Vox here? It must be impressive if he was rambling about it when I was walking in.” Alastor said with a tight smile.

The moth took a slow drag from the cigarette, puffing it out to wash over Alastor. Who took a small sniff and felt his body reject whatever was infused into the scent. It smelled…disgusting.

“I’m not sure if I’m up for sharing ideas with a demon I don’t know.” Valentino huffed.

“Oh no, you know Alastor,” Vox said as he easily wrapped an arm around said demon, “This is the Radio Demon. One of the most powerful Overlords Hell has ever seen.”

“You flatter me Vox…but please, continue.”

Oh, he was taking so much enjoyment seeing Valentino's face become twisted into a snarl as he glared at the arm. Seeing the moth demon squirm with anger. This is what happens when someone tries to take what belongs to Alastor-

Wait.

What?

Were those…his thoughts?

Was he actually…

“So, you’re the Radio Demon,” Valentino scoffed as he took another drag, “Not much to look at. You older model Overlords must hate anything flashy for how dull you all look. Such a shame.”

“Well, we don’t feel the need to over-embellish. We tend to let our work speak for us. But I can see why you younger demons see it the way you do. Actually attempting something meaningful must be too much for you to handle. You make up for your lack of any skills by being loud. In more than one way.” Alastor shot back.

Vox, who was slowly realizing there was a bit of tension in the air, had his eyes traveling between the two.

“I’ll have you know that us ‘younger demons’ are bringing more to the table than you could ever imagine.” Valentino hissed out.

“Yes, you did make a remark on something ‘new’ that interested Vox. Tell me, what idea seemed to have worked its way into that thick skull of yours?”

“Alastor.” Vox whispered, a warning undertone held to it.

“If you must know, it’s a new form of entertainment. A new height of pornography that Hell has not seen before.”

Alastor’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “We have enough of that down here, thank you. With plenty of it appearing on Vox’s networks. I’m not seeing the draw to your ‘brilliant’ idea.”

“Because no one here has allowed the full potential to be reached. For it being Hell, everyone’s still playing relatively safe. My movies will be finding the limits and pushing past them.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

Valentino smirks, a few streaks of red saliva sliding down his chin. “I have my ways.”

“How delightful.” Alastor growled out, not even bothering to hide his disgust. He was surprised as he was suddenly pulled away from the other demon. Allowing Vox to direct him to the closest dark hallways.

“Hold that thought for one second.” Vox called out to Valentino with a smile before he and Alastor disappeared from view. The Media Demon fixes the other with a pissed off but confused look. “What’s going on with you?”

“What, I’m not allowed to carry on a conversation with potential employees?” Alastor snipped back.

“If you’d done so in the past, I wouldn’t be this worried because it would be another way of you playing with their fears. But you’ve never been this…snippy. Even more so since it looked like you were going to tear his arms off at one point. Seriously, what’s up?”

“Nothing is ‘up’, I’m just…not a fan of that Valen-what’s-his-face. He’s offering a product that you already produce and acts like he invented the idea of recording intercourse. Smug little man in my opinion.”

Vox let out a slow sigh before placing a hand on Alastor’s shoulder. “Look, I need heavy hitters on my team. People who want to push past what’s ‘ordinary’ or ‘comfortable’. If Valentino thinks he has an idea to help, then I’m going to give him the room to do so. I’ll kick him to the curb without a second thought if he can’t produce.”

“So I don’t count as those ‘heavy hitters’ you’re looking for.”

That comment caused Vox to falter slightly. Even Alastor felt surprised he would make a call out like that.

“...I think you’ve made it very clear you don’t want to work with me,” Vox whispered, “But…I’m fine with that. You’re a one demon person, look out for yourself, right? I get it. That doesn’t mean you get to weigh in on my business choices.”

“I thought you valued my opinion.”

“If you had good feedback to provide, absolutely. Not when you look so…jealous.”

Alastor gripped his staff tightly behind his back. “I’m not jealous.”

“You were matching Valentino’s comments beat for beat. I don’t know if that was your attempt to make yourself the biggest demon in the room or what, but you’re intimidated by Valentino in some way. Is it because he’s taller? Because you’re taller than me without heels on and I’ve never complained.”

“I’m not- Stop putting words in my mouth. I only come to these ridiculous events because I found it entertaining how desperate demons flounder to you. If you’re not going to listen to my words, then I’ll just take my leave.”

“Alastor, wait, that’s not-”

But he’d already sunk into his shadows back into his domain before Vox could grab onto him.

That disgustingly warm feeling in his stomach now mixed with something bitter and cold.

Alastor hated how comfortable he’d felt in that state of dazed feelings. He’d become content with Vox, so much so he wasn’t sure if he was truly the same demon he’d been before. He hadn’t realized how far into Vox’s companionship he’d sunk into until this moment.

How many times had he told himself Vox was just a plaything? Someone to keep his interest between making deals and taking souls. That’s all it was supposed to be.

Yet seeing that stupid, disgusting, ̠v̠̠i̠̠l̠̠e̠, f̳̿͟͞u̳̿͟͞c̳̿͟͞k̳̿͟͞i̳̿͟͞n̳̿͟͞g̳̿͟͞ r̳̿͟͞e̳̿͟͞p̳̿͟͞u̳̿͟͞l̳̿͟͞s̳̿͟͞i̳̿͟͞v̳̿͟͞e̳̿͟͞ V̳̿͟͞a̳̿͟͞l̳̿͟͞e̳̿͟͞n̳̿͟͞t̳̿͟͞i̳̿͟͞n̳̿͟͞o̳̿͟͞ getting so close to Vox hit Alastor in a way he knew he couldn’t just push pasted this…

He needed help.

“How do you stop caring about someone.”

Roise finished her sip of tea before addressing her guest. Regarding Alastor with a raised brow and a smirk that clearly stated ‘Oh, I know where this is going’. She placed her cup and saucer down on the small table before gesturing to the empty chair across from her.

With as much refinement as he could handle in the emotional state he was in, Alastor all but flopped into the offered chair. Even with his constant smile, it was clear to the cannibal leader the other was pouting.

“Now, this wouldn’t happen to be about that Vox fellow I see you with so much?” Rosie asked while pouring Alastor his own cup. “Wasn’t he having a little shindig at his company today? It’s pretty common to see you at his side on these big events.”

Alastor let out a low growl before picking up the offered cup. “He found someone else to…converse with. I removed myself as my concerns didn’t interest that idiotic TV.”

“You didn’t seem to think Vox was an idiot when you offered the idea for that hunting show.”

He pointedly took a long sip of tea.

“I know you’re not a fan of sharing what’s going on in that head of yours. But I need something from you if you really expect me to help you.” Rosie stated, fixing her next cup.

“...I’ve now realized how close I was to him, to Vox, and that’s…”

“Terrifying?”

“I’m not built for…for caring for others and I never wanted to be,” Alastor said shortly, “Alive, dead, I don’t care. I…I cringe at that deep of a connection with someone.”

“You and I have an established relationship.”

“...It doesn’t feel the same as what Vox and I have. Or had, I’m not sure if we’re on the best of terms right now.”

“Oh, one little spat isn’t going to ruin anything. You’ll just need to be more honest when you see him next.”

“But I don’t want to be! I don’t even know what I want right now and it’s driving me crazy!”

Rosie said nothing as Alastor crushed the cup beneath his hand. Nor as he stood and started pacing the room. The Cannibal Overlord quietly called for a clean up and a new cup while she turned back to the other demon. “You’re certainly in a situation if you’re this riled up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tense before.”

“Because I’ve never…felt this before. It’s an uncertainty that I don’t want to face. I like control, I love being in control. This is making me feel that I’m somehow falling apart yet being put back together again.”

“It’s okay to be in love-”

“I̳̿͟͞ a̳̿͟͞m̳̿͟͞ n̳̿͟͞o̳̿͟͞t̳̿͟͞.”

Rosie pointed an accusatory finger as Alastor’s voice shifted. “Don’t you snip at me, young man. You came here for advice and I’d like to give it without the worry of losing some part of me.”

“Then take it back.”

“I’m not silencing the truth.”

Alastor let out a hiss before turning his back to the other. Eyes widely looking around, as if he’d find the solution to all his problems in the room. He tried not to flinch as hands gently took one of his own to steer him back to the chair. Head bowed as he sat down, cup handed to him.

Rosie only claimed her chair once more when he didn’t break anything. “You can’t block this out.”

“I-”

“You already had your time for your tantrum. Now, you’re going to listen to me with that mouth shut.” She huffed, taking another sip before continuing.

“I think you’ve been lying to yourself this entire time. Your interest with Vox goes past just a ‘friendship’ or ‘companionship’. It’s something even deeper than what we share. You’ve just hidden it from yourself as a way to preserve what you think you want. Or deserve. There’s never been a challenge of questioning what you two shared because he gave you his world and you took it. Without a thought or worry as to what it could all mean.”

“Then this Valentino character shows up and you feel threatened. I’m not going to ask what the other demon did, because I know it’s more than just a sales pitch that pissed you off. But what you do see is a threat. To whatever you and Vox have.”

Alastor gripped the armrest. “...I don’t think I can explain it.”

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news on that front, but you’re going to need to figure it out. Because Vox is going to want an explanation and he deserves one.”

“...Say that I do…you know.”

“Can’t hear you over your whining.”

Alastor growled, “If I do love him, what am I supposed to do? I…don’t want to have that connection with someone.”

“Then you need to decide if you’re okay with letting Vox go. Because your attitude today shows that you’re not that much of a fan of anyone coming too close to him. But you can’t make that barrier for him if it means you can’t be honest as to why you’re keeping him for yourself. Either let him know, or let him go.”

Neither of those options seemed to settle Alastor’s worries.

He should just be able to let Vox go. Why not? Wasn’t that what he wanted for so long? To let that walking TV depart from his life to Alastor could return back to the quiet he’d been so comfortable with. That was what he wanted…when he didn’t really know Vox.

When the other demon had been just an annoying nuisance in Alastor’s life that couldn’t just take the hint. Now, however, it was a different story. Because having Vox leave meant returning to a life where it was just him and…somehow…in some way…

The thought terrified him.

Maybe he could fall back into the old routine he held. He’d done it for years before Vox arrived in Hell, surely it wouldn’t be that hard to do once more.

“Don’t lie to yourself, just because you believe the old was a comfort.” Rosie offered as calming advice.

“...I think I should leave.” Placing the cup down, Alastor didn’t wait to hear Rosie’s farewells before he was sinking into the floor. The shadows embracing him.

The sinners on the street provided a very clear path around the Radio Demon as he practically stalked the streets. Alastor wasn’t looking for someone or heading for a particular place. He just needed to move. Hoping the constant feeling of moving forward would help pull him from the fog.

It was a frustrating situation that honestly held an easy solution.

Alastor couldn’t deny that he’d allowed Vox far closer than he should have been comfortable with. Just the metaphorical idea of pulling away made Alastor’s stomach churn far worse than what he currently felt. So, remaining was the better outcome.

Yet, would Vox approve? To become beyond the companionship, the friendship, they’d built. For how long Alastor has put up his barriers, would Vox now be receptive to moving forward in a different direction? It was clear the Media Overlord did have an infatuation with Alastor, even if said demon fought against it for so long…

But wasn’t Alastor entitled to have a new chapter in his afterlife? Shouldn’t he allow himself the grace to try?

How cruel fate could be.

Because he knew he couldn’t manage that.

He knew Vox deserved someone who wasn’t a chore to…care for.

So he hid away.

Hid away from Vox.

Never rising to any calls or pleas that eventually turned into hostel threats and challenges.

If asked, Alastor claimed he had better things to do. And he did.

Anything that would make Vox hate him or forget him.

Anything to keep that space between them.

Alastor truly thought he could have something as meaningful down here.

What an idiot he was.

Then, he became lost.

Lost for 7 years.

Leaving behind a disoriented, broken, and confused Vox to wonder where he’d disappeared to.

______________________________

Well, perhaps he’ll know better when going against an angel to not stand directly in front of them, defenses lowered, when they were still on the attack.

Hand delicately placed against his chest, doing a horrible job of keeping his blood in, Alastor slunk back to his radio tower. It was broken into pieces. The only large part still kept intact was where his equipment lied. The rest nothing more that splintered wood with broken glass and wires littered everywhere.

Opening the trapdoor was a little tricky. Given the fact he was only doing it with one hand and it was stuck at an odd angle. But Alastor was able to get it eventually. Panting weakly as he shuffled his way over to the controls to collapse at the base of them.

He wasn’t going to die.

It didn’t matter how much pain he was in, how much blood he’d lost, how much it hurt to breathe, or that he wanted nothing more than to pass out. He was better than that. He was the Radio Demon. One who held his own against an angel, Adam out of all of them, and still survived. Even if other demon’s felt brave enough to mock them, Alastor could hold that above their heads. That at least he fought and lived to talk about it.

Which he would say before eating the idiotic souls that tried to challenge him.

For the moment, however, Alastor just needed quiet. A quiet calm to let himself slowly heal before he joined back with the others and-

Alastor tensed when the trap door was opened once more. Following the sharp action with a quiet curse. He sat up further in hopes to look somewhat intimidating or put together. Depending on who was coming through that opening. If it was an angel, he needed to be on the defensive. Someone from the Hotel, then it was more of a performance to show he was doing just fine.

He was startled to find it was neither option.

Vox, breathless and looking anxious, climbed his way through. Wide eyes landing on Alastor, who could only stare back in slight surprise.

“...Ah… Hello there.” Was all Alastor could muster.

That seemed to break Vox out of whatever turmoil he was dealing with as he let out a snort the next second. His regular smug face appeared back on screen. Yet Alastor could still see a bit through the cracks…

“Well, you look like Hell. What happened to you? Fight an angel and get your ass handed to you?” Vox replied.

“At least I was willing to fight against one. Unlike your business partner who could only talk a really big talk…” Alastor hissed as he tried to sit up further.

“Hey, I only wanted to look into security. Velvette has her own way of sorting out what information people know.”

“We see where that got her. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to lick my wounds in privacy.” Alastor let out a pained hiss as his attempt to stand amounted for nothing. His free arm unable to support himself and he slid back down. He allowed a few seconds to try and catch his breath, eyes stuck to the broken ceiling to avoid looking at the other demon.

“Well, what is it? Are you here to torture me physically or verbally? Or maybe just a straight up slaughter. Adam did the majority of the work for you. Very like you, wouldn’t it be? To try and take all the glory once someone’s done the work for you. Shameful. Did you purposefully change your outfit to reflect mine? I’ve been gone for so long and I still, somehow, take up so much of your mind. You truly are pathetic-”

Alastor winced as his hands were pinned to his sides. Eyes narrowing as Vox positions himself a little too comfortably over the other’s hip. The Media Overlord gave his own glare back as the silence stretched before them.

“...I could break out of this.” Alastor snipped back.

“Do it.” Vox challenged.

“I could tear you apart without lifting a finger.”

“Do it.”

“I could show you how pathetic you really are-”

“Ｔ𝓱𝑒𝐍 𝓭Ø Ɨ𝐓.”

Alastor should not have been taken so aback by those words said in that way. His own comeback died on his tongue as he stared up at Vox as his face twisted into a deep frown. The Media Overlord’s right eye flaring up.

When he didn’t receive a reply back, Vox’s face returned to its more calming setting before saying, “I’m going to let one hand go. Can you promise not to swipe at me.”

“...No.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Even with the rather weak deterrent, Alastor didn’t even twitch as Vox made good on his words. Red eyes watching as the other’s hand reached up…and moved to the top most button of his torn shirt.

Using whatever strength he could muster, Alastor attempted to push the other away. A growl escaping from him when his latching out was proved useless. Vox wasted no time in pinning the Radio Demon’s hands above him.

��Would you stop being an idiot!” Vox hissed.

“How strange to hear those words come from your mouth. That statement is normally reserved for you!” Hands no longer an option, Alastor resorted to biting the hand as it drew closer once more.

“Fucking- Stop it, I’m trying to help!”

“Why on any of the 7 Rings of Hell should I believe those words? You have no reason to, yet every reason to do away with me. Why keep me around? Clearly your meager existence was better when I wasn’t here. So make it permanent. Why wait any longer? Do it! Deliver the final blow and strike me down! E̳̿͟͞N̳̿͟͞D̳̿͟͞ T̳̿͟͞H̳̿͟͞I̳̿͟͞S̳̿͟͞!”

That final outburst took it all away. Leaving Alastor leaning against the soundboard side, gasping for air as he stared up at Vox. Who looked unimpressed with it all.

“Well, now that your temper tantrum is over.” Vox said this as if this was a normal routine. Hand going back to the torn shirt to undo it properly. Enough so that he was able to get a clearer look over the deep gash.

Alastor, on his part, could only sit and wait. Wait for Vox to pull out an angelic weapon that no doubt littered the front lawn of the hotel and stab him. Wait for Vox to just plunge his hand into Alastor's chest and tear out every part of his insides out to paint the floor red. Wait for said hand to slide up to wrap around Alastor’s throat to deprive him of the air he was still urgently taking in.

But none of that happened.

Instead, Alastor let out a hiss of pain instead of anger as a burning sensation was felt on his chest. Looking down to watch as the gash slowly closed itself back up, a faint blue light outlining said wound. It was over quicker than he expected. The area not fully healed, still a deep red but far better than it was before. Leaving Alastor feeling a little more awake and Vox…looking pale.

The Media Overlord leaned back enough to no longer keep the other trapped. Gracelessly falling back onto the damaged floor as his screen dimmed further. A few warnings of ‘Low Battery’ and ‘System Reboot Needed’ occasionally flashing before disappearing just as fast as they had arrived.

Alastor, on his part, ran a newly freed hand over the area. It was still extremely sore, but no longer bleeding, even appearing to be nothing more than an angry scar. The disbelief must have been written all over his face, as Alastor heard Vox let out a weak chuckle. Looking up to find the Media Overlord staring back at him.

“Don’t crash on my Bambi… I think only one of us needs to be close to passing out.”

“...Why would you do this?”

“Why not.”

“...I could kill you in the state that you are.”

“Would you? If that was the case, you’d have done it already…”

“Do you have a death wish?”

“For a while now, yeah…kind of.” They both jumped when Vox suddenly let out a rather violent twitch, screen glitching before going dark. Said demon letting out a small groan. “Okay…maybe I used more than I thought I had…”

Letting out a small huff of annoyance, Alastor shifted himself until he could lay next to the other. Feeling Vox twitch away slightly when their hands brushed together. No doubt more surprised by the sudden feeling than threatened with Alastor being so close suddenly.

“...I saw your stupid little…flying camera things.” Alastor eventually said.

Vox let out a weak laugh, “My security drones?”

“Drones, that’s what they’re called? Are they named after the way you talk? Droning on and on about things no one cares about.”

“Hey, I didn’t name them… A sinner brought the idea to me.”

The Radio Demon hummed, “Brought to you or that you overheard and killed so they couldn’t market the idea?”

“What do you think?”

Even with the situation they were in, both laying on the floor to recover from their own wounds, with the small want of being nowhere near the other demon, Alastor had to admit. This was…nice. Trading insults with no venom as if no time had really passed between them. When his radio tower was a grand structure on its own in the dense forest, allowing Vox to rant about whatever happened at work while Alastor pretended to not listen.

A good memory.

A…calming memory.

“You fucking left me.”

Alastor’s ear twitched, turning his head to look at the Media Overlord. Vox’s screen was still dark. But with how his body was tensed, Alastor knew they were reaching a boiling over point. One that had no doubt been rising for all these years.

“You left me… At the party, alone in this Hellscape… I looked for you…for 7 years. Do you know that? I spent 7 years building up my empire. Becoming stronger. Becoming my own Overlord with hundreds of contracts in my control. All because of you. Because when you left…” Vox’s voice became garbled for a moment and he fell silent.

Alastor remained quiet as well. Remembering a time, long ago, when Vox had explained a large downside to his new form. That strangely comfortable release when someone could let go of their sadness. Vox had been devoid of that. He still needed to eat, to breath, to drink. Yet that liberating feeling of letting sadness fully consume oneself was gone.

He’d become familiar with that sound from the Media Overlord’s voice. Alastor had heard it numerous times on days that Vox had just too much on his plate or something fell through and became a detriment to his plans.

Back then, Alastor hadn’t thought much of it. How trying to openly let out such a weak state of emotion in front of anyone in Hell would be seen as an opportunity to strike. But he never did. All he’d done was allow Vox to scream, shout, even destroy a few things. Then letting him collapse onto the nearest chair as the feeling continued to grow with no way out. The younger demon clawed at his chest as if that would yield the result he desired.

And how Alastor, the demon who was repulsed by touch from anyone, would place a hand on Vox’s shoulder. Or lay an arm across them. Even at some point allowing the other to lean against him. As if offering a small form of shelter from the storm.

Now here they were again. Alastor only able to watch as Vox struggled.

“...You shouldn’t have looked for me,” Alastor said softly, “It wasn’t worth it…”

“It was for me.” Vox shot back, voice still a mess.

“You had your own life to live, it shouldn’t have revolved around me. It should never revolve around anyone.”

“Fuck you.”

“Vox-”

“You don’t get to make that decision, not on your own. …Did I make you angry? You left at that party. I know we fought but we both said stupid things and I thought it would just blow over. But you kept… You avoided me, lashed out and… Fuck, Alastor, I couldn’t breath, I was so confused and you wouldn’t let me talk. Then I heard sinners calling us rivals and I knew I said nothing about it so assumed you had. With everything…”

“You should hate me.”

“I do…but for the wrong reasons, I think… I just hate that you left me there… Then you fucking disappear.”

Alastor’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “...It wasn’t my intention.”

“If you had stayed, would anything have changed?”

“No.”

“...Well, at least you were honest…”

“If you’re angry at me, why are you here?”

“Just because you hate me doesn’t mean I want to hate you. I freaked out when I saw you get hit. I would have been here sooner, honestly, but Val and Velvette held me back. Said rushing over was a stupid idea. They were kind of right. …I know you like your privacy and whatnot. Your mysterious air… If you want me to keep playing this role of rival, I will. Good thing to focus my anger on…I guess. I just…I wanted to know you were okay.”

Alastor didn’t respond. Eyes widening slightly, ears even tense as he heard Vox’s voice say those words. They hurt. Hearing out loud, from someone other than himself, it felt wrong. It’s as if Vox had said the words that had been resting on Alastor’s shoulders for so long.

Because, in some way, Alastor had been doing the same thing.

If he really wanted to keep Vox away, Alastor would have just disappeared to begin with. On his own terms. He wouldn’t have felt the need to rise and snap out his views against Vox. Alastor had no need to make their falsely created rivalry such a spectacle. At the time, he’d just assumed it was because he was trying to show off. To show his life could continue on like nothing was wrong. An act. A performance.

In reality, it was his way to make sure Vox was okay. That the other demon could remain on his own two feet without Alastor always being there. The small verbal fights were nothing more than Alastor checking in. A way to see how much Vox was building his empire and himself. To watch from the shadows as Vox strived in creating what he deserved. All without allowing the other the chance to ever get that close again.

Alastor didn’t hide physically. He tried to hide emotionally.

And suddenly…he stopped wanting to try. To hide what he thought wasn’t meant to be his.

Because he was Alastor, the Radio Demon, and if he wanted someone, he was allowed to take them. Without the fear of what others thought.

Vox’s screen flickered on when the air around him moved quickly. Having a moment of worry that he’d crossed a line and Alastor was finally done with him. Only to pause as the Radio Demon was now leaning over him. Smile tense and eyes narrowed.

“...Alastor-”

“I don’t want that.”

Vox blinked, “Don’t…want what?”

“I don’t want to play a role. I don’t want to be rivals, or to feel the need to fight you, or trade insults with the purpose to hurt you or me or…whatever. I…don’t want to go back to any of that. I don’t want to hate you… I never hated you.”

“...Then what was that all about?”

“...There were…certain things happening at the time that I was not…comfortable with facing.”

“You were scared.”

Alastor let out a low growl before covering it with a cough. “That is one way to put it, I suppose. I pushed because… I like control. This…feeling, this was not control. So, I did what I thought I had to do. I controlled the situation I had before.”

“You pushed people away?”

“Well, no, I actually killed them.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad you went with the physical distance and not the spiritual distance.”

Alastor raised a brow, “I thought you could take me in a fight? Was that not one of your claims? That I was so old that I could break a hip or something trying to land the first hit?”

“Hey, that’s still a legitimate concern!” Vox argued back with a smirk, “But back then? No, no way could I have. I would have just been a gnat you could swipe at and do me in. Now…well, you might have knowledge, but I’m pretty sure I have you beat in strength.”

“Oh, do you now? Because that head of yours makes for a good target.”

“Oi! My head is awesome! Sleek in design and able to hold so much information. You’re just- You just wished you looked this good. Unlike you, still stuck with the pinstriped suites? ”

“I thought you liked me in these?”

“I mean, if anyone could pull off the look, it would be you. Doesn’t make it look any less ridiculous.”

“I should teach you to respect your elders.”

“Ha! You just admitted you were old!” Either from being delirious with how much energy he’d lost or really thinking he was that funny, Vox devolved into a small fit of laughter. Starting off strong before devolving into small giggles and snorts.

All the while, Alastor just watched and listened. Only pulled from his trance when Vox finally calmed down, looking up to the Radio Demon with a smile Alastor had not seen in years.

And that squirming feeling in his stomach was back…

Vox’s smile fell to a look of surprise when Alastor leaned down to claim his lips in a kiss. The shock wore off slower than he meant for it to, causing Vox to scramble slightly in wrapping his arms around the other in case Alastor took the wrong idea. The Media Overlord even getting a little brave to gently run his fingers through the other’s hair.

When the kiss ended, neither pulled away that far. Alastor eventually laying across the other, making sure not to stick anything with his antlers. Both allowing the moment to play in their minds once more.

“...This doesn’t fix everything.” Vox whispered.

“I’m aware of that,” Alastor replied, “I suppose I have a lot to make up for… But I’m hoping those aren’t words saying this can’t work.”

“No, just that…it’s going to be hard moving forward. For a lot of reasons.”

“...I can wait.”

Days later, when the hotel was rebuilt and all wounds (known and unknown) were healed up, Alastor was given a box by Niffty. The maid happily claimed she’d found it on the front steps of the hotel, only holding the Radio Demon’s name. Eagerly leaning forward as she waited for the other to open it. Only to be disappointed when Alastor retreated to his room to have some privacy.

The box didn’t hold anything that would make Alastor worry it was some kind of trap or anything to be worried about. Sitting at his dining table, he turned it over a few times in his hands before tearing the paper away and opening the box.

Inside was a familiar wooden deer figure. Now complete, the small form resting in a field, all of it a beautiful dark wood that shined from the varnish. Absolutely stunned, Alstor’s eyes roamed over every detail he could find and take in. Sitting in warm silence as he held the small creation in his hand. Only pulling away when something else shifted in the box. Reaching in once more to pull out a folded letter.

‘If it makes you feel better, somehow, you’re the only one who knows about this. If you want- If you’d like, I can show you what else I’ve made. Just let me know, okay?’

- Vox

Well, how could Alastor say no to that?

#radiostatic #radiostatic week 2024 #staticradio #voxal #alastor x vox #vox x alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #s-creations #fanfiction #i'm so late with getting this up #i'm just happy that it's up #XD

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astrolovecosmos · 1 year

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Planets' Detriment

When a planet is detriment in a sign that planet is uncomfortable, it is hard for its energy to be expressed. Some describe a planet in detriment as being weakened. There are a lot of challenges for these placements, but every placement has its strengths. The detriment can be like the planet is playing on hard mode, sometimes the planet's influence or area of life can feel like a test. But there can be unexpected advantages and insights by overcoming and understanding the detrimental position pros and cons.

Sun is detriment in Aquarius, finding that it spends a lot of its time thinking about others, especially their peers. Despite Aquarius being famous for their independence and aloofness, their humanitarian trait and focus on the group can make them less self-focused. The Sun is about self-expression and when in Aquarius that expression becomes unconventional. It's interesting that the Sun (personality, ego, vitality, self-expression) is detriment in a sign associated with individuality. But the Sun is a warm, gregarious, generous, powerful, authoritative, possibly traditional, leading planet. The Sun wants to be the influence, the change, the heat. Aquarius is about innovation, the unknown, unpredictability, curiosity, and progress. Sun in Aries is confident, action-taking, and self-focused and Sun in Leo is exuberant, brave, and proud. The self is potent and defined in these two fire signs, whereas in cooler, chaotic Aquarius the self or personality may be hard to understand by others. Aquarius may have times of being confident and sure of their personality, they can be willful, stubborn, and opinionated - I would not describe them as being subtle or fluid but they are extreme, windy, and their desire for change can bring misunderstanding, recklessness, and loneliness. This desire for change or even mayhem coupled with their focus on the group can also make them a passionate and devoted follower of trends, ideas, beliefs, maybe people. Their follower side brings a huge detriment to the royal Sun. But this placement is still highly emotionally and socially intelligent + traditionally "book smart" or academic as well. They are original and has a keen intuition for trends, technology, and general societal changes. The Aquarius-Leo axis is all about leadership, individuality, society, collective vs. individual. Aquarius can still be an amazing and inspirational leader. They can be charismatic, convincing, a visionary, supportive, utilitarian, intelligent, communicative, observant, ready, and accepting. Aquarius is the leader you want during unsure times. When the Sun is in Aquarius it experiences both being with the in-crowd and being the misfit, it has a chance to plug into the hivemind as well as complete disconnection. Here the Sun must live inside and outside labels.

Moon is detriment in Capricorn, here it feels restricted. When the Moon is in Capricorn there is an attempt to control emotions. Moon in Capricorn is self-disciplined, pragmatic, critical, and tends to try to control their home and family. The Moon here struggles to tap into intuition, express feelings, and may brush insecurities and sensitivities under the rug. Unaddressed issues are likely to be common. Moon in Capricorn's internal world is an attempt to dry out or contain the ocean. Moon in Capricorn can see their emotions as a weakness or as unimportant. The detriment for this placement is clear - surrounding control and emotional blockage. Moon in Capricorn should aim to be a lighthouse or sturdy boat vs. an attempt to silence, calm, or direct their own waters. It is important to note Capricorn Moon does not struggle to understand and feel their emotions or inner, private self but struggles with accepting, expressing, and utilizing it. The Moon is a symbol of the magic and power that comes with our emotional self. While Moon in Capricorn can face many challenges, they are still dependable, loyal, hardworking, and responsible. Capricorn's seriousness, logic, and sense of duty when accepting of their vulnerabilities and willing to listen to their intuition can be insightful, resourceful, calm, patient, and maybe even wise and imaginative. Capricorn like a lighthouse can help guide others, be a mentor, leader, protector, or provider. Capricorn is adaptable, dynamic, and enduring - they can be an unsinkable ship on a wild ocean, but they can only do this by getting familiar with their own waters vs. ignoring or trying to control them. All of these positives are associated with growth, even without active growth Moon in Capricorn can have a unique perspective in terms of the emotional world. They try to manage themselves entirely, leaving little room for mistakes. They are hard to embarrass, intimidate, and shake. They have strong survival instincts. They tend to be good listeners, can take their character or integrity seriously, and at the end of the day they are the least likely to allow their emotions to blind them. While other signs may be more in tune with their emotions, Capricorn at least won't drown or be impulsive.

Mercury is detriment in Sagittarius, pushed into asking the big questions and operating in a broad, abstract, and spirited way. Even though Mercury is a flexible, curious, and sometimes scattered influence, it still tends to deal with the factual, details, logic, and what is said or shared. Sagittarius is a sign of theory, philosophy, beliefs, ethics/morals, truth, exaggeration, storytelling, impatience, risk, and freedom. Mercury is about the words said, the facts from the textbook whereas Sagittarius is the meaning or intention behind the words and the impression or belief surrounding a text. Mercury rules over all communication, the mind, and learning but it is most associated with gossip, tact, wit, debate, eloquence, humor, persuasion, friendliness, and reasoning. Whereas Sagittarius is all about being forward and blunt, their honesty can be brutal. Sagittarius can be an eternal student or student of life and has plenty of traits or associations that can keep up with this high-energy planet, but they are brazen and are always looking to the future or asking "what ifs". Mercury in Sagittarius frequently puts their foot in their mouth, may be clumsy, could lack manners or just tact, they can trip over words or frequently interrupt others. But I should be careful not to paint a picture of this placement as being purely awkward, rude, and/or a bad communicator. The challenge or weakness Mercury has in Sagittarius is more about the sign's expansive nature and always thinking within uncertainty and the intangible. Mercury in Sagittarius can fall into hypocrisy, bigotry, self-righteousness, haughtiness, can become opinionated, be zealous and overbearing with their beliefs, may develop a temper, and may face challenges surrounding factual truth vs. personal truth. Sagittarius is closely connected to both an open mind or a closed one. Mercury in Sagittarius struggles to focus, can be insensitive, can have a forgetful side, is hard to satisfy or calm, may be carefree or unbothered by how things work which can offer a unique perspective on things but also be an area of restlessness or nervousness. Mercury in Sagittarius can also be motivating, optimistic, funny, catches and keeps others' attention, can be a great teacher, inquisitive, deep, exciting, playful, trusting, and sometimes honest to a fault. Mercury can learn to be adventurous and brashly confident in Sagittarius. Here Mercury must rely more on instinct, action, and luck than knowledge.

Venus is detriment in Aries, becoming self-focused, not afraid of conflict, and at times may prefer separation, independence, competition, and confrontation. Venus in Aries tends to be attracted to those who are a challenge or "hard to get"- a reward or competition to win. They can also be attracted to those who are confident, passionate, and Aries-like. This placement also finds flattery, admiration, attention, and being desired attractive and some may define these as a must in their relationships. At the center of this placement is the love for the self and/or pursuing one's desires. Venus does not like conflict, tends to not be the most competitive, is all about attraction and magnetism vs. action, and finds itself strained and heated in Aries. Venus in Aries can struggle with cooperation, compromise, rejection, and is known for being a selfish partner. But Aries is also known for generosity. This placement can be very ardent and romantic and is famous for having a high libido. They are known for falling in and out of love fast. They tend to burn through relationships quickly, can easily confuse lust for love, gets carried away in new relationships, and gets bored easily. Venus is about relating, persuading, connecting, charming, attracting, loving, and intimacy. Venus in Aries weakness is in struggling to join and relate. They have no problem standing on their own and may need to learn how to listen, give, relate, and sympathize in their relationships. They need to be more open to depending on another or taking care of others. But Venus is also about rivalry, and Aries has this down. Venus being about relationships does not always = a good relationship, harmony, or peace. Venus in Aries embraces competition in the social realm and in love but needs to be careful of always competing against or fighting with their loved ones. They can also be bossy and demanding of loved ones. But Venus in Aries can be a powerful placement for self-love, boundaries, and may have a lot of strength and motivation to leave a toxic relationship. When devoted Venus in Aries will always keep the passion burning, can be adaptable in relationships, can be fun and spontaneous, has confidence in their partner, and may find surprising joy in pleasing a partner or feel needed and important in relationships.

Mars is detriment in Libra, finding it hard to assert themselves and act decisively. Here Mars wants peace and harmony and while this can be positive, this Mars placement struggles with conflict and pressure. Mars in Libra can be easygoing and patient. They can give into people pleasing or may be highly evasive. Mars in Libra may swing from being changeable to opinionated easily. But Mars has a chance in Libra to become persuasive, cooperative, compromising, and understanding. Justice being associated with this sign gives Mars a chance to play judge or lawyer. They can have great mediating and/or networking skills and are usually logical and level-headed. While they may struggle to stand up for themselves, with confidence, and putting other's feelings, impressions, or needs above their own, Mars in Libra is usually not easily excitable, intimidated, or shaken. Mars in Libra may protect themselves through a laidback exterior, a dispassionate or detached approach, or with adaptability, distraction, and deflection. Mars in Libra also gives this fiery, passionate, sometimes brutal or aggressive planet an appreciation, maybe confidence, and intensity or willpower behind beauty, romance, giving, connecting, and equality or complementing. Mars in Libra could have a dependent side but the air element does crave independence and space, having a balance of this is very important for this placement. Being an air sign conflict typically lives in the realm of intellect, gossip, communication, arguing, ideas, and social issues or socialization. But Mars in Fire and especially its native signs Aries or the maelstrom Scorpio wants to win or conquer in conflict. Mars in Air and especially Libra wants to tie, compromise, debate, solve with rules, laws, maybe even boundaries, and sometimes make a deal. Mars in Libra - a sign associated with Venus the planet of love, lust, and desire can be something the planet Mars can relate to. Mars is also connected to intimacy, lust, desire, and romance. While Libra/Venus represents many opposites to Aries/Mars even when Mars is in detriment in Libra it can fall deeply, quickly, and recklessly in love or infatuation.

Jupiter is detriment in Gemini, here Jupiter may feel weighed down by the mundane or technical, or find it hard to stick to one path or continue to move forward. Jupiter in Gemini can be scattered with growth, individuals with this placement may struggle with patience, listening, or focus. Jupiter in Gemini can struggle to not only stick to a goal but find one. Jupiter is the planet of growth, abundance, luck, prophecy, religion, travel, indulgence, knowledge and wisdom, optimism, generosity, and faith. Here Jupiter lacks ambition, belief or trust in others, a system, or self, and possibly bravery or passion. Jupiter in Gemini at times may struggle to see the big picture or gets easily distracted by everyday stresses and worries, curiosities, learning, trends, or short-term fascinations. This age group may be very familiar with flakiness, gossip, petty drama, talkative people or conversationalist being admired or common, obsession or concern with social status, experiences the pros and cons of rivalry, fears misunderstandings, isolation, or exclusion, but also may have many friendly people, could frequently be supportive of one another or causes, embraces new ideas, can easily understand and get on each other's wavelengths, and may value community, friendship, education, and open or free communication. Jupiter may find itself unsure and find it hard to learn lessons in Gemini, but it still can find luck, positivity, and/or growth by being open-minded, flexible, social, staying curious or constantly learning, and playful. Jupiter is an indulgent and spirited planet that acts on instinct. Gemini is spontaneous and energetic. When Jupiter is in this buzzing, quick-witted sign it can be impulsive or reckless. Jupiter in Gemini can overpromise, tell tall tales or exaggerate, be mischievous, hypocritical, and opinionated. One of this placement's biggest weaknesses is a struggle to plan and commit. They may be opportunist, have an entrepreneurial spirit, maybe have con artist tendencies, fit in well within the gig economy or temporary work, and may have a knack for networking. Jupiter in Gemini may be forced to live in the moment a lot. They need to make change, excitement, and newness their comfort zone. Jupiter in Gemini finds confidence in intellect, sciences, or studies, and may live a life of constant growth through change.

Saturn is detriment in Cancer, frequently struggling to leave behind the past. Saturn is the planet of maturity, growth, boundaries, responsibility, purpose, and structure. When in moody, watery Cancer Saturn can find it hard to keep up their boundaries, may give into immaturity, childish selfishness, or insecurities. Saturn in Cancer puts their emotional wants and needs above all else. In some ways Saturn in Cancer's devotion is to emotional wellbeing and stimulation, coming in 2nd after that is devotion to loved ones. They may not fit into society's standard of "maturity, authority, or success". Saturn in Cancer also easily gets stuck in sulking, self-pity, nostalgia, and grudges. But this placement has an amazing ability to embrace and even use their vulnerability as an advantage. They can get in touch with and heal their inner child. Saturn in Cancer likely cares more about their family than society, community, career, or reputation. Cancer makes Saturn more imaginative, gentle, introspective, and intuitive. Speaking of intuition, following their heart or hunches may be key to maturity and survival. The responsibility of caring for others may be a hallmark for them. This may be a group of protectors and healers. While discourse may exist from subjects of betrayal, abandonment, family drama, and general bad blood, they can be an adaptable, cooperative group who mostly value patriotism, loyalty, hard work, practicality, and compassion. Saturn can surround important themes of protection and providing. In this way Cancer can fit in almost naturally despite all the detriment the placement can bring. Saturn can feel out of control, messy, unbalanced, and hypersensitive here, but there is stability and wisdom in Cancer's connection to heritage, tradition, roots, and family love.

Uranus is detriment in Leo, finding that themes of arrogance, selfishness, and abuse of power are common. The most confident and charismatic with this placement tend to make waves and changes during this age or in this part of a generation. Uranus in Leo can also find a new appreciation and fuel for creativity and originality. This time period or people may ask a lot of questions about individuality, taking care of the self, needs vs. desires, and self-love and empowerment. When Uranus is in Leo the planet of change and chaos brings upheaval in leadership, politics, royalty, power, influence, and fame. Uranus's weakness in Leo is in the separation and division of a collective or a person's ability to not be part of a group due to competitiveness, cocky behavior, a feeling or belief of superiority, being bossy, and maybe a temper. But Uranus in Leo has a lot of willpower, and these individuals will likely make a major or unforgettable impact with their lives. Uranus in Leo is all about independence, freedom, personal authority, and self-expression. They can be brave and inspiring but most with this placement tend to act alone or are purely motivated by self-interest. Those with fragile egos, who struggle with speaking their mind, the timid, overly trusting, open-minded and open-hearted, and blunt or overly honest may struggle a lot during this time period or with this placement. But this is a time or placement that shows how important people are on an individual level and the power they hold. Artistic freedom or celebration, recreation, passion, respect, affection, generosity, and the promotion of joy and excitement are all tools that are important to any rebellion or revolution this Uranus placement brings. Those topics are also helpful for healing after the mayhem. Uranus's exaltation is in Scorpio who is a group or time that focuses on the regeneration of the self, psyche, and collective emotional understanding. Uranus's detriment in Leo focuses more on a group's ability to stand on their own with outer power. Both are actually very self-focused. But Leo is a sign of creation, life, rule over life and Scorpio is the sign of death and rebirth. Change, transformation, and liberation usually are surrounded with themes of death in our stories and beliefs for a reason. But even with this common idea, Uranus in Leo signifies change that is usually hopeful. An example is all of the celebration, hope, excitement, and liberation but also power struggles of the late 1950's and the early 1960s.

Neptune is detriment in Virgo, finding this structured, organized sign feels restrictive or tiring. Neptune in Virgo tends to swing from being hypercritical and overly realistic to getting lost in unrealistic expectations and fantasies of perfection. Neptune may feel less imaginative, soft, or fluid when in Virgo. Neptune in Virgo may get easily impatient or disappointed with their peers and loved ones. Neptune here doesn't like to bother with the random, ridiculous, taboo, or impolite. Neptune in Virgo finds that in their search for truth, purity, and goodness or wholesomeness there can be a lot of illusions, distortion, and surprises. It is in Virgo's rationality, logic, attention to detail, and its association with the mundane, reality, or everyday life that makes Neptune feel or express weakly. Neptune was in Virgo during the crash of Wall Street and filled the 1930s with harsh reality checks and struggles. But this time frame also gave way to needed changes and policies. This generation is now known for their strength, frugality, and cooperation. Neptune is about higher causes, dreams, illusions, sacrifice, spirituality, imagination, and more. When in Virgo Neptune is pushed to focus on intellect, facts, and discernment. In general when Neptune is in an earth sign, there is an opportunity to become a generation that makes dreams a reality. There can be a complementing dynamic of imagination, visionary ideas and being practical. Neptune in Virgo individuals can be giving, self-sacrificing, and understands how to work with others towards a goal or may have a desire to help their fellow man. Neptune in Virgo can have a knack for teaching or guiding others, they are supportive, and gives constructive or helpful advice. Despite Neptune in Virgo's troubles, this is a placement that gives back, is adaptable yet tough, likely made up of two extremes of being down-to-earth or highly uptight and proper, and has powerful healing, serving, and crafting capabilities.

Pluto is detriment in Taurus, finding that it is frequently pulled to play it safe. Pluto in Taurus can find it hard to let go of the past or current situations, can be materialistic, may have a vain streak, is cautious, practical, and values security, stability, and possibly loyalty above all else. Change is hard during this time period and a generation with this placement may be highly resourceful - and this may come from being forced to be resourceful. Pluto hates predictability, stagnation, passiveness, indecision, or hesitation. It is the planet of power, rebirth, compulsion, obsession, elimination, destruction, and regrowth. It is a planet that demands action and transformation. In Taurus though things take time. These individuals can be persistent, enduring, practical, and will likely have a good eye for quality. This may be a time period where the real, high-quality, or sincere is asked for. The economy, wealth, and possessions will likely be greatly transformed under this placement. Pluto in Taurus can become grounded, is hard working, stubborn, maybe opinionated, and extremely determined. Pluto in Taurus may ask questions about values, what is valued, worth, beauty, and security. Taurus is known as a peaceful sign, associated with contentment, attraction, and relaxation. But Pluto will always be about death and rebirth, the last time Pluto was in Taurus was during the American Civil War and during industrialization. The changes, suffering, and power during this time may bring some form of peace or it may improve standards of living, but it won't spare a generation of transformation. Even though Pluto feels weak or strange in Taurus, this placement embodies willpower. The beliefs these people hold will be guiding, they may overcome challenges or make changes by sheer force, necessity, and perseverance.

#planets #zodiac #astrology #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #sagittarius #capricorn #sun #moon #mercury #venus #mars #jupiter #saturn #uranus #neptune #pluto #detriment #aquarius

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year

Photo

I see such colorful homes, click on them, and the interiors are nothing but a disappointing white & gray. Here, however, is a $27.5M Georgian mansion built in 1795 in Upperville, Virginia that is a riot of in-your-face color.

Interesting stacked steps in the bright yellow entrance hall.

And, there are 2 bright blue sitting rooms. Why are people so afraid of color?

The 2nd sitting room is a lovely warm wood.

And, look at the yellow striped home office and hallway.

Beautiful wood library with red chairs.

Love the peach wallpaper in the dining room. They have a fortune in area rugs not only protecting the flooring, but adding contrasting color.

Even this pantry has cute red & white curtains.

Very nice- love the whimsical curtains and bright blue doors.

The tastefully redone kitchen is huge. It has 2 full-size farm sinks, double stove, and a double fridge.

The powder room looks like it’s in a fine restaurant.

Curving stairs on the next level. The sunny yellow of the main hall is carried thru up here.

In the main bd. each person gets a fireplace.

Even the dressing room has a fireplace.

Check out how large the en suite is, and it also has a fireplace.

There are 9 bds., all beautifully decorated.

Plus 8 full and 3 partial baths- all gorgeous.

Back stairs leading to another level.

Lovely bd. in the attic area.

And, where does this staircase go?

A guest bd.

There are several bds. up here and an individual kitchen.

Serious home office.

You can see the age of the house in the basement, with the stone foundation, stone fireplace and tree trunk beams.

Walk-in safe.

Look at the barn and horseshoe shaped stables.

Beautiful garden and gazebo.

This is a real horse farm. It’s huge.

https://www.sothebysrealty.com/eng/sales/detail/180-l-84267-4btqq4/21515-trappe-road-upperville-va-20184

#mansion #georgian mansion #houses #georgian architecture #long post

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throwawaywriting · 9 months

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A/N: 10k+ word count. Smut at the end.

You were a slip of a thing. Delicate. Petite. Always had been, much to your aunt and uncle’s pleasure. It made you the belle of the ball at every high society party, and the eligible bachelors constantly vied for your time and attention. You never had trouble finding a companion to dance with, or someone to escort you through the streets of Saint Denis. But you didn’t find any suitors to be particularly thrilling or interesting and there was only so much polite conversation or strolls or painting you could do before needing to venture out of your affluent neighborhood. At the first available moment, you’d slip into one of the dresses your maid hid in your wardrobe for these instances, and sneak out of the house. Maggie accompanied you on a few initial trips, making sure you knew the areas you’d be able to explore without being in any immediate danger. But after several nights wandering alone, you were tired of maintaining another set of boundaries created just to keep you safe. Your insatiable desire for adventure caused you to venture further and further from home, eventually bringing you to wander the docks and factory district of the ever-expanding city. Nights almost always ended at the Bastille Saloon, a higher class establishment than other options in Saint Denis, but not affluent enough for your family or individuals of similar status to patronize. In other words, even in the saloon finished with velvet and dark walnut and gold, you went unrecognized. This was where you developed your habit of swiping money folds and watches from the wealthy men that never failed to approach you with dark eyes and a silver tongue. Nothing ever happened, no one ever realized you were the cause of their valuables disappearing, no doubt because the sweet facade distracted from your mischievous deeds. It wasn’t until you started to steal from men you weren’t flirting with that you were caught.

The night before your 20th birthday you were on your way home following an exhilarating evening of swiping multiple bill folds. You’d throw them down alleyways, hoping someone desperately needing the money would stumble upon the hundreds of dollars left behind. The only thing you kept were the clips, a trophy of each successful escapade. You were getting ready to toss another packet, arm darting out from your side, when a large, rough hand closed around your wrist. Another hand clapped around your mouth, stifling your shriek as a solid body pushed into your back, driving you down the alley that was going to receive the night’s plunder. You involuntarily squeaked as you were pinned against the wet brick wall, your heart leaping into your throat as terror flowed through your body.“You make a habit of stealin’ from gentlemen?”

Once your eyes adjusted to the lack of light, you finally saw the man who had you trapped. He was one of the first you “robbed” that night. Not quite a foot taller than you and so sturdy you were sure he could wrestle a bear, the stranger had dark blonde hair swept to the side, a tan face, and blue eyes so stunning they almost rivaled your own.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” you said calmly once his fingers loosened around your lips. For a moment, a look of amusement crossed his rugged features, prompting an unexpected fluttery feeling to fill your stomach. He could feel your heart racing under his forearm pressed across your chest to keep your figure against the wall. A little smirk tugged at the corner of his lips when he registered your reaction was just as much arousal as it was anxiety.

“M’sure a nice little lady like you didn’t mean it,” he grumbled, the vibrations of his baritone transferring from his body to yours.

“An innocent mistake,” your blonde curls rustled as you nodded meekly, “pardonnez-moi.”

His eyes stayed locked with yours as his hand slid to meet your fingers still clutching the billfold.

“Should be,” he finally loosened his grasp on you and took a step back when the money was in his possession. When he was satisfied it had all been returned, he looked at you with a sly smile and tipped his hat, murmuring a farewell before continuing down the dark alley.

“Are you enjoying yourself, ma cherie?” Your aunt Celeste joined you on the back porch overlooking the luxurious party her and Pascal had thrown for your 20th birthday. It was a phenomenal sight, the who's who of Saint Denis society mingling in the back courtyard adorned with massive floral arrangements, glowing candles, tiers of sweets, bottles of champagne, and a 12 piece orchestra inspiring guests to dance.

“Oui,” you nodded and smiled widely, not wanting to let on that this evening didn’t have as much excitement as you would have liked. But following last night’s encounter in the alley, you suspected it would be awhile before you found anything as exhilarating. Your wandering mind was soon interrupted by your uncle’s boisterous laughter floating through the open French doors.

“Y/N, more friends have arrived,” you turned around at your uncle’s comment to see Mayor Lemieux, Angleo Bronte, and a handful of other men following Pascal to the columns you stood beneath.

“Mademoiselle,” the mayor removed his hat and held it over his heart in greeting.

“Henri,” you smiled warmly and exchanged fond kisses on cheeks. When he stepped to the side, Angelo moved forward, eager to greet you in kind. You never had a good feeling when the Italian was around. He seemed…shifty. But he was a fixture in Saint Denis’s wealthy class and attended every party held at one of the extravagant houses in the city.

“Happy birthday, bella,” Angelo’s greeting mimicked Henri’s but his lips lingered a little too long for your comfort.

“These are my associates,” Angelo gestured behind him, hand beckoning them forward.

“Well it is a pleasure to meet the most beautiful woman in Lemoyne,” the dark haired man removed his hat and bowed deeply.

“Name’s Dutch,” he said in a heavy southern accent once he returned upright, “this is Hosea,” the older man stepped forward and lightly kissed the top of your hand, tipping his hat in a sign of reverence.

“And this is Arthur,” when your eyes finally landed on the third man, your heart jumped into your throat.

The man you robbed, the one who had you pinned in a damp and dark alleyway not 24 hours before, was standing on your back porch as a guest of your birthday party.

“Miss,” he removed his hat—a different one than last night—and nodded politely. You hoped no one else noticed the way you blushed at his gesture, and he hoped no one noticed the way his eyes twinkled amusedly at meeting the female pickpocketer that nearly took all his money.

“May I?”

A low voice came from behind your dancing partner, drawing your eyes over Jean-Claude’s shoulder to find Arthur standing with a stupid smirk on his lips. When the younger man opened his mouth to protest, you patted his shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s alright, Jean-Claude,” you murmured before pressing a kiss to his cheek. He frowned but lowered his head and relinquished your hand to Arthur before seeking out another dance partner. You rolled your lips together in a vain attempt to suppress the grin threatening to emerge. Dancing with this man generated a rush of happiness, and you did not want to let him know that even now, in your own backyard, he made your heart race.

It’s just infatuation, you reminded yourself, you don’t even know him.

After a few strides, you finally granted yourself permission to look up and inspect this man a little closer than the dimly lit alley allowed. When your eyes lifted from an unidentified spot over Arthur’s shoulder, you found he was already staring at you.

“So you gon’ tell me your name?”

The rumble of his voice alone would have prompted you to giggle, but his question guaranteed your soft laughter filled his ears. The sound caused a warmth to bloom in his stomach and he could feel his cheeks redden at being the cause of your amusement.

“Y/N,” you drew your hand further up his thick shoulder so it rested at the curve of his neck, prompting Arthur to reflexively move his hand higher up your back to maintain propriety.

“Miss Y/N, there a reason yer swipin’ billfolds when you got all of Saint Denis at your fingertips?”

“To meet charming men such as yourself, Arthur,” you responded coolly, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips. His hand squeezed yours a little tighter as he grunted at your comment, the twinkle leaving his eyes, “could get real hurt doin’ that.”

You hummed, raising an eyebrow in disagreement but not daring to say it out loud. It wasn’t proper to argue with a man, let alone an older one with seemingly high societal connections.

“No need to bite your tongue, girl,” his whisper against your ear caused a shiver to run down your spine and he grinned at your reaction. Still, you didn’t offer a response and instead chose to change the subject. What was he doing in Saint Denis? How did he know Angelo?

While you wished you could have spent the rest of the evening talking with Arthur and getting to know more about him—you didn’t have the chance to learn much more than he had just gotten to Lemoyne with his group of associates and they began working with Angelo upon their arrival. That in and of itself should have been a warning—you didn’t like nor trust Angelo or the men who kept his company—but there was something about Arthur you couldn’t keep yourself from trusting. If he was as rough as the men he surrounded himself with, you had no reason to lean into the feeling of comfort his presence provided. But at the end of the night, you couldn’t keep your gut from twisting into knots as you bid him—and the others—adieu.

The next night, under the glow of a full moon, you slipped out of the house to resume your evening escapades. The cool air was a welcome reprieve following a sweltering day spent outside and you inhaled deeply upon reaching the end of the Avenue, taking in the sweet scent of roses and lilacs and gardenias.

“Thought I scared you outta doin’ this,” a gruff voice caused you to jump and whirl around. Seeing your new companion made your heart race wildly, a response you expected every time you crossed paths with Arthur. He smiled devilishly and flicked his cigarette onto the sweating cobblestone. You bit back a sweet smile, “truthfully, Mr. Morgan, I don’t find you all that scary.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, “yer the first to ever say that Miss Y/L/N.”

If it was possible, Arthur was even more handsome in the moonlight. His features weren’t as harsh and he wasn’t as worn, instead looking like a mischievous boy who was meeting up with his forbidden lover after hours. You hoped that he saw you in the same way—someone he wanted to see so badly he would shirk all other duties for a few hours while the city slept.

“What adventure you goin’ on tonight?”

A week later, after several consecutive nights spent visiting the underbelly of Saint Denis, you decided to stay home, not wanting Arthur to find you too desperate to spend time with him. Truth be told, you were growing increasingly attracted to the gruff man who seemed to be annoyed with your consistent rebellion while finding it equally amusing.

You expected this evening to be quiet and that you would doze off after reading one of your books. And you likely would have continued into dreamland had it not been for glass shattering somewhere in the house.

At first you thought it was the cat slinking around the parlor and knocking a vase off the table, but then you heard voices. And then a scuffle. And then pleading. You held your breath and strained your ears in an attempt to figure out what exactly was happening, only for your concentration to be broken by your balcony doors swinging open. Your mouth flew open to scream, only for a familiar hand to rush to keep you quiet.

“Get dressed real quick.”

Upon realizing it was Arthur, you relaxed for a moment, all fearsome thoughts leaving your mind until it registered that he must be with whoever was making their way upstairs.

“It ain’t what you think,” he shook his head upon noticing the betrayed look in your eyes, “now git movin,” he pushed your head away from him and towards the wardrobe. A million questions flooded your mind as you fumbled with the clothes immediately within reach. While you dressed you kept your eyes on Arthur, who was standing guard at your door with a shiny pistol drawn and held upwards, ready to fire at the first sign of intrusion.

“Hurry up,” he hissed at you, glancing over to see the progress you’d made in getting dressed. The sound of hushed voices and footsteps on the stairs caused your heart to pound so loudly you were sure the incoming person, or persons, could hear it in the hallway.

“We gotta go,” Arthur stepped away from the door and grabbed your hand, pulling you from the safety of your bedroom into the dark night.

The following minutes were a blur, with Arthur throwing you onto his horse and galloping through the streets of Saint Denis, not slowing until reaching the sticky humidity of the Bluewater Marsh. Under any other circumstances, you would have found a midnight ride to be romantic and exhilarating. But tonight you were terrified and at the first chance you had, you wriggled out of Arthur’s grasp and successfully—but not gracefully—dismounted his Thoroughbred, landing on the dirt road with a soft oomph. Arthur looked down at you with an amused smile and let out a chuckle when you scowled in return. You pushed yourself to your feet and hoisted your skirts in an attempt to make a getaway.

“Hey now,” he called after you, smoothly getting off his horse and grabbing your arm after taking a few long strides to prevent you from escaping.

“Let me go,” you snapped, jerking against his grasp to free yourself. Surprisingly, Arthur did as you asked and allowed you to turn on your heel and continue stomping down the dark road returning to Saint Denis.

“Might wanna get back here,” you heard him grumble, prompting you to click your tongue and wave him off while blindly continuing forward.

“Y/N,” you kept walking despite Arthur repeatedly calling your name. He muttered something under his breath before you heard the rustling of heavy leather and the cocking of the gun.

“Y/N!”

His sharp tone finally made you whirl around only to find he had a rifle pointed directly at you.

“Wh-wha?” You stammered, unable to ask what Arthur was doing before a gunshot shattered the night air. You spun away from the noise, the movement allowing your eyes to catch a dark mass slithering back into the marsh. Your eyes widened in realization and you turned around once more to stare at Arthur, mouth agape in shock.

“Gon’ get back here?” He asked dryly, knowing this incident scared you enough to return to the nearest form of safety, which, for better or worse, was him. As badly as you wanted to put on a brave face and act as though you weren't phased in the slightest, you were far too shaken to pretend and unsteadily walked back to Arthur, limbs trembling with fear.

“Ya alright?”

A deep frown etched his face as he stared at you with a raised eyebrow, exuding annoyance and concern simultaneously. You knew your voice would betray you, so you merely hummed in confirmation before allowing Arthur to boost you into the saddle before hoisting himself up, one muscular arm wrapped around your slender frame to hold you tightly to his chest.

A few hours and a long ride later, Arthur pulled into the woods and slowly walked through the trees until reaching a small campsite—one tent and one firepit.

“Here we are,” he grunted, swinging his leg over Brutus to dismount. Before you could blink, his large hands were gripping your sides, just under your breasts, to help you down. Arthur lifted you effortlessly, making you feel like little more than one of the china dolls your aunt gifted you as a child. Your hands rested on the tops of his shoulders for balance, the motion naturally bringing your eyes to lock together. Even when your feet were firmly on the ground, neither of you let go of the other. The temptation to kiss him grew too powerful to resist, your hand quickly moving to the nape of his neck to bring your faces closer together. Initially Arthur tensed, his eyes darting across your face as if searching for permission you already gave.

He cleared his throat and stepped out of your embrace, allowing a rush of cool air to flood the front of your body.

“Gon camp here for the night. Get a few hours sleep. Keep movin’ north,” Arthur didn’t turn around to see the dejected look now worn on your features, but you swallowed your pride and followed him to the fire pit where he built a flame large enough to provide some warmth to your chilling body.

“Are my aunt and uncle alive?”

Arthur exhaled slowly but nodded, “uncle might be in rough shape, but I reckon he’s alive.”

He poked at the burning logs to stoke the fire, the movement allowing flames to ignite the remaining log.

You sat on the hard ground, knees pulled to your chest for comfort while you watched the wood burn right before your eyes. You’d never been in the wilderness like this, with the open air and clear sky. A gentle breeze toyed with your hair, taking a few strands by surprise and guiding them across your face. You brushed them aside absentmindedly, tucking the blonde locks behind your ear. The movement entranced Arthur, who had been subtly watching you from across the fire. The orange glow illuminated your features in a different way than the street lamps of Saint Denis. It didn’t make you look so…ethereal. Instead, you looked like a normal frontier woman. Your hair was a little haphazard from the night’s frantic activity, your normally lively eyes had circles enunciating your exhaustion, and little creases scattered your forehead as you contemplated recent events.

“Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Morgan?”

Oh shit, he’d been caught staring. Arthur startled slightly, prompting a sly smile to appear on your plush pink lips when you realized he had indeed been studying you.

“Noth—“ his voice was raspy, mouth having gone dry while he admired you. He cleared his throat, “nothing, ma’am.”

You scoffed at his formality, blue eyes rolling at his persistence of calling you anything other than your preferred nicknames.

“If you had the gusto to kidnap me, you might as well call me Y/N/N.”

Arthur’s head snapped up to glare at you, his anger only enunciated by the raging fire.

“I didn’t kidnap you,” he snapped before he had the chance to adjust his tone. You recoiled, surprised by the forcefulness with which he spoke. An immediate sensation of guilt washed over Arthur like a bucket of cold water, “aw, I’m sorry Y/N—I mean Y/N/N.” He looked at you sheepishly, cheeks now also burning with embarrassment, “s’just more complicated than that.”

You pursed your lips together and twisted them to the side in thought. Internally you were debating whether or not you wanted to push for further details, but Arthur spoke again before you had the chance.

“Better get some shut eye, gon be morning before we know it,” he pushed himself up, fully extending his legs after crouching for god knows how long. While he was rough around the edges, he seemed to know enough about proper society that he took a few steps towards you, hand outstretched for you to grasp while rising off the ground. Again, the motion brought you nearly chest-to-chest and this time Arthur didn’t quickly pull away. Instead he looked down at you, his blue eyes locked with yours in a battle against temptation. You could feel your faces growing closer together, and your gaze only lowered when you wanted to focus on bringing his lips to yours. But once again Arthur cleared his throat and took a step back, this time eliciting a huff loud enough to make him hesitate before fully turning away.

“Ya can take the tent,” he cleared his throat again and stooped to pick up a bedroll that was tucked just inside the flap, “I’ll sleep out here.”

“Why?”

Your question made him hesitate once again. He sighed and ran his fingers through his sandy hair, “I—I don—“ he stuttered before taking a few seconds to compose himself, “yer a proper lady,” he refused to make eye contact with you, “and I reckon it wouldn’t be too proper for,” he gestured between the two of you, prompting you to raise an eyebrow and smirk. He didn’t finish the sentence, instead uncomfortably rubbing the back of his neck and exhaling from his nose.

“I ain’t who you think I am,” he finally stammered. Your brow knit together in confusion and you stared at him open-mouthed for a second before saying the first thing that came to mind, “how do you know what I think?”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to scowl and shake his head.

“Go to sleep, Y/N.”

Arthur woke you a few hours later, interrupting what was a short and uncomfortable sleep. You’d never slept in a tent before, never had only a bedroll between you and the cold ground, never woke with the sun. Your entire life had been spent in that Saint Denis mansion, with its plush and overfilled beds, soothing pillows, and timeless days. No one cared if you didn’t wake until late morning, the lack of interest proving invaluable for the nights you’d stay out so late the street lamps were extinguished before you returned to your room.

But you didn’t want Arthur to think any less of you and your capabilities, so you joined him in the saddle without complaint, despite your body aching from last night’s excursion.

“Where are we going?” You asked quietly, the question serving as your first words of the day. Arthur exhaled through his nose, something you noticed he did quite a bit around you, almost as though he needed to frequently slow a racing heart.

“Gotta get to Brandywine before nightfall,” he answered shortly. With a click of his tongue, the horse began moving forward. Brutus, you learned, was his name, given sarcastically due to the stallion’s relatively docile temperament. You’d never admit it to Arthur but you had only ever ridden side-saddle, and even then, you were born and raised in a city where riding wasn’t a necessity.

As Brutus carried you north, you watched your surroundings with wide eyes. You’d never traveled this far from Saint Denis. It was wild, undeveloped, untamed. The trees were lush and rustled with the wind. The air was crisp and stung your lungs when you sharply inhaled. And you encountered maybe two other people on the trail, all of whom looked at you curiously, but tipped their hats nonetheless. You hadn’t considered the sight of two people–one in slightly nicer clothing–riding on a horse would be an odd sensation. But apparently, it was. And someone knew it would draw enough attention that the day’s journey diverted into the woods just outside of Annesburg.

“Charles,” Arthur called out when he approached a campsite very similar to the one you just left outside of Van Horn. The tent flaps rustled to reveal a strapping, dark skinned man with long black hair.

“Arthur,” the stranger raised his hand in greeting, striding over to welcome you with a smile, “safe travel, my friend?” Charles asked as Arthur dismounted. Arthur grunted and lowered his head, but you caught the edge of a smile when he handed Charles the reins so he could help you down.

“This here’s Y/N,” Arthur gestured towards you roughly, his demeanor suddenly becoming gruff in the presence of another man.

“Pleasure, ma’am,” Charles kissed the top of your hand as Hosea had done many nights before. You smiled tersely, guard heightened in the presence of an unfamiliar individual. Arthur must have sensed your hesitancy, and he put a hand on the small of your back to guide you forward, motioning towards the tent, “need you to change.”

You frowned up at him, fully confused as to why redressing was necessary. But when he raised his eyebrows and motioned towards the tent again, you relented and stepped behind the canvas. Once in private, you realized you were more scared than you had been willing to admit last night. Being swept out of your room by a man you’d become infatuated with was arguably romantic, as was going for a late night ride and spending time around a fire. But now, in the light of day, terror gripped your insides, crushing your chest and making every breath a struggle. You tried to calm, but remembering you didn’t actually know Arthur, let alone Charles, only made your heart race faster. When the clinking of stirrups and the sound of thundering hooves broke through your clouded mind, you dashed for the tent opening, throwing back the flaps in an absolute panic, thinking Arthur abandoned you.

But he hadn’t.

He was sitting on a stump, journal in his lap, pencil in hand, and clearly writing or drawing before you interrupted. Upon seeing your wild eyes and hearing your rapid breathing, he tossed his utensils aside and quickly closed the distance between your location and his.

“S’wrong?” His large, rough hands landed on your shoulders without a second thought, brow furrowed in concentration as he watched your body heave frantically. You gulped air as quickly as possible, gripping onto Arthur’s forearm as tightly as you could to keep yourself balanced. If it hurt, he didn’t flinch, and guided you to the ground without detaching your hold.

“Y/N/N,” he soothed with a never-before-seen kindness, swiping his thumbs over your cheekbones to wipe away your tears. The kind gesture did nothing but make the tears fall faster, finally prompting you to lurch forward, burying your face into the crook of his neck, where a soft blue cotton shirt caught every drop falling from your eyes. Arthur tensed at the sudden closeness of your bodies but knew better than to pull away. Instead his hands brushed up and down your back comfortingly while he repeatedly reassured you that everything was okay. When your breathing finally slowed, you pulled back and pawed away the tears still staining your flushed face.

“I want to go home,” you whispered shakily, looking up at him with watery blue eyes. Arthur sighed and raised a hand to tuck a few blonde locks behind your ear–a gesture that didn’t feel as abnormal as it should have.

“I know ya do, but,” he sighed heavily, “not yet.”

“Why not?” You demanded, voice raising when the pace of your breathing quickened again, “why can’t I—” your question was cut off by Arthur’s lips crashing onto yours, something you desperately wanted 24 hours ago, but wasn’t on your mind at the moment. It did help stop your racing thoughts, though, and when his hands cupped your face to bring you closer, you could think of nothing but him. Your slender hands snuck around to the back of Arthur’s neck, where your fingers absentmindedly grazed until Arthur’s hands moved to tangle in your long blonde hair, gently detaching his lips so he could press his forehead against yours.

“I know yer scared, but I need ya to trust me,” the vibrations of his voice sending a tingle down your spine. You swallowed thickly but nodded and whispered a confirmation.

“I promise I’ll tell ya everything when we get to Brandywine tonight.”

The wagon Charles left at the campsite in exchange for Brutus became your new mode of transportation. It was done, you realized, to blend into the surrounding area a bit more than your previous travel arrangements. You were even able to doze a bit, head lolling to the side and finding support on Arthur’s shoulder. But you were wide awake when the wagon slowed alongside a pond, shimmering in the pastels of a wilderness sunset. The water looked so inviting, its waves barely kissing the shore in a sweet gesture of welcome.

“Is there…” you hesitated, knowing how ridiculous of a question you were able to ask, “can I go swimming? In there?”

You motioned to the pond, as if there were any other place in the area where you could swim. Arthur’s eyes darted towards the water for a split second before he nodded and hummed, “gonna be cold.”

With a small twitch of your lips, you took Arthur’s outstretched hand to assist you down. Despite his cautioning, your feet carried you towards the rocky shoreline where you promptly began to undress. The kiss you’d shared earlier that day provided a whole other level of unabashedness, a dangerous thing considering you already quite bold. Arthur continued working by the wagon, starting a fire and setting up the tent while you held your breath and plunged beneath the water’s surface, fully immersing yourself in a peace you desperately needed. When you popped back up, blonde hair now slicked back with the cool water, you noticed Arthur jerk his head down to avert his eyes. It made a little smile play on your face, knowing he had been watching for at least a few seconds. You continued bobbing in the pond, the chill settling into your skin going unnoticed as you enjoyed the calming sensation of weightlessness. It was a welcome distraction from the turmoil that had been clouding your mind for the past 24 hours.

“You gon’ sleep in there?”

Arthur’s baritone voice broke through your daydream to bring you back to the present. Night had started falling, blanketing the peaceful area with a dimness that somehow didn’t lessen its beauty.

“What if I am?”

You retorted, lowering yourself so only your eyes were visible. Arthur smirked, amused by your youthful antics.

“C’mon girl,” he waved you towards the shore, “need to eat somethin’.”

With a grunt, you obliged and started creeping closer to the rocks on which Arthur stood. Before you could ask if he was going to turn away so you could leave the water and dress, he held up a blanket as a privacy screen. While you wanted nothing more than for Arthur to have his way with you, for his lips to press against every inch of your smooth skin, you were grateful for his never ending respect and propriety. This was pushing it, he knew, standing behind a quilt while you exited the water, a splashing sound confirming you’d made it to shore and were now fully unclothed on the other side of the fabric clutched in his hands. He could not help but imagine what you looked like right now. How your wet skin must be shimmering in the growing moonlight. How your hair must be returning to its natural wave now that it was no longer weighed down by water. How the damp spots on your body must make some of your undergarments cling to your curves.

“I’m decent,” you whispered, putting a gentle hand on top of Arthur’s to encourage him to lower the barrier. He did as you asked, and when he finally caught sight of your post-swim appearance, all of his previous thoughts were proven correct, save for what your chemise looked like under your calico dress. Arthur draped the quilt around your shoulders, knowing you were going to get more of a chill than you expected and lead you to the campsite where he had a fire burning.

The two of you ate quietly, with you having your first ever dinner outside, around a fire, with nothing to drink other than water. Arthur told you the events leading up to the night he stole you from home. How your uncle had been the middleman between Angelo Brontë and a wealthy family from Rhodes. How the Braithwaites felt that they’d been shortchanged and how they plotted to kidnap you for ransom. How Dutch figured it out and how he made a deal with your uncle to kidnap you first and take you into New Hanover before crossing into Ambarino to hide out until things were smoothed over. How when Arthur heard about the plan, he readily volunteered to be the one to take you away and keep you safe. After eating the plainest meal of your life, you started to shiver, your hair still reflecting light with a dangerous dampness. It didn’t go unnoticed by Arthur, who passed you a well-worn flask, “drink this. It’ll help.”

You tentatively took it from him, chilly fingers desperately uncorking the container that might be your savior. It hadn’t crossed your mind that the flask likely contained alcohol–and strong alcohol at that–so when you took a big gulp, you didn’t expect your throat to feel like it was on fire. Much to Arthur’s amusement you coughed and sputtered, not used to the sensation provided by rye whiskey. When you finally regained your composure after a few deep breaths, you let out a giggle, “that is vile,” the flask returned to Arthur, who took a swig without so much as a wince.

“An acquired taste,” he winked at you and tucked it back into his jacket pocket before rising, the movement announcing the end of the evening.

“Tent’s yers,” he drawled and motioned to the open flaps where the bedroll from last night awaited your visit. It was closer to the fire than previously, you noted, surely done in an attempt to make your slumber as comfortable as possible following a questionable decision to swim in a northern pond while the sun set. You hummed and reluctantly took Arthur’s outstretched hand to assist you off the blanket on which you sat. On instinct, you stepped forward so your bodies nearly pressed together and you looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. His lips twitched ever so slightly at the corners, signaling he was fighting back a smile and his blue eyes shone with debate. It would be the perfect opportunity to kiss you again. To press his lips against yours, more tenderly this time since he wasn’t in a rush to calm you down and get you to shut up. You could feel his muscles tense under the light hold you had on his arms and you knew there was no way he was going to kiss you again today. He was far too reserved to make such a bold move in a calm environment.

“Good night, Arthur,” you pecked his cheek and retreated to the tent, stomach churning with anxiety and uncertainty brought on by the perceived lack of interest.

The next morning you awoke to men talking outside your tent. It sounded like two, maybe three, individuals having a somewhat tense discussion. One was Arthur, the second perhaps Dutch. The remaining man you couldn’t identify. While you debated on whether or not you should show yourself, you slowly stretched to feel the satisfying tug in your legs and arms. Yesterday’s journey hadn’t been as arduous since the majority of time was spent in a wagon instead of on horseback, but your muscles still ached, their condition certainly not helped by another night spent sleeping on the ground. You knew they were likely conversing about you and the precarious situation you were apparently in, probably giving updates so Arthur knew whether or not your journey could continue as planned.

As soon as you made an appearance, you regretted not remaining hidden until the visitors left. Though you might have been desperate to see Arthur, and feel the sun on your skin, and enjoy some of the preserves you’d been given by Charles, you didn’t want those things if you would be subjected to the presence of a man incapable of respecting a lady.

“Woo-eee, I can see why you wanted this mission so badly, cowpoke!” One of the men whooped, slapping his knee in amusement before striding over to you. He circled around you like a lion surveying its prey, licking his lips in a way that was nothing but predatory. Your jaw clenched and heart raced, all too familiar with the growing level of unease caused by a man looking you up and down as though you were a prized calf. Arthur’s movement went unnoticed, as did Dutch’s low voice reminding everyone present to behave. But the heavily mustached man turned towards Arthur with a wicked grin, his beady eyes betraying the vulgarity of the comment he was about to make.

“You get a piece yet?”

You gasped, face flushing with anger, “connard!” But before you had the chance to slap him as intended, he grabbed your wrist, “oh I don’t think so,” and jerked you forward, bringing you so close his whiskey-tinged breath skimmed over your face. Thankfully, Arthur had his hands on the man within seconds, pushing his way between you and the stranger.

“Back off, Micah,” he shoved the man square in the chest while you yanked your arm out of his grasp, shrieking for him to let go of you. Even though his hand was around your slender wrist for only a few moments, it was angry and red and almost certain to bruise later. He laughed at Arthur’s response, “protective of your little frog?”

Again, your cheeks reddened, “va te faire foutre,” you spat, trying to push past Arthur in another effort to slap the offending man. Micah only laughed, but stepped away when Dutch finally barked at both men to behave. Arthur remained in his position shielding you from Micah, much to the man’s amusement.

Dutch and Micah brought two things: news and supplies. Things with the Braithwaites weren’t quieting down as expected, with some members of the family rumored to be looking for you. You didn’t ask why, if your would-be captors continued to pursue you, these two men thought it was a good idea to meet at the campsite. But you remained quiet, standing behind Arthur to feel some form of safety with Micah present. The vulgar man left shortly thereafter, announcing he was on his way to Strawberry, another little town you’d only heard about in passing. Arthur didn’t take his eyes off of Micah as he trotted off on his raven black horse, followed in short order by Dutch, who wished you safe travels. Once the duo were out of sight, Arthur slightly turned towards you, again awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry ‘bout Micah,” he sighed, shaking his head, “he…well…he’s…” Arthur stuttered before giving up on the sentence and waving his hand dismissively, “we’d better get goin’. Should make it to Moonstone before dark.”

You looked at Arthur curiously, head tilted to the side in thought, a sight he found so endearing. For all your intelligence and knowledge there was so much you had yet to learn and experience, and you were eager to do those things with him. And if he was being honest, Arthur was becoming more and more infatuated with the idea, too.

There had been no mention of the kiss you shared the previous morning. Really, no discussion at all during the wagon ride west, but you had so many questions for Arthur. He had alluded to being part of a gang when you’d been around the fire last night, talking about the events leading up to your journey to Brandywine, but he hadn’t come outright and said it. The visit from Dutch and Micah had you fairly well convinced that whatever group he was part of was likely closer to an outlaw gang than a family gang, like Angelo Bronte.

“I can hear those wheels turnin,” the silence was broken by Arthur teasing you lightheartedly, the smallest smile causing his eyes to twinkle. You hummed but giggled, blushing from the embarrassment of being caught so deep in thought about your travel companion.

“Just dreaming about what kind of town Moonstone must be,” you lied, dimples betraying the half-truth you spoke.

Arthur grunted, “ain’t a town,” his eyes darted to his right to catch your reaction. Your brow furrowed and lips turned downward, “then what is it?”

He sighed, letting his eyes linger for a few extra seconds before redirecting his attention to the horse dutifully pulling the wagon.

“Itsa little cabin,” his broad shoulders heaved upwards, “nice’n tucked away.”

Moonstone was more beautiful than you expected. It was a small plot of land with a large pond that reflected the surrounding sloping mountains. You hadn’t been expecting the cabin to be furnished, let alone with the finery close to what you’d left in Saint Denis.

“Pascal don’t know where ya are but he wanted ya to be comfortable,” Arthur remarked at seeing your pleasantly surprised face, “Charles was here a few days ‘fore we met up with him.”

You hummed and nodded, taking a step further into the cabin, the faint smile falling from your face when you realized the amount of stuff your uncle sent with Charles meant he thought you’d be away from home for longer than you anticipated.

“Y’okay?” Arthur slid up next to you and gently nudged your arm when he noticed your suddenly crestfallen face. You nodded and sucked on your lower lip in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, the gravity of your situation once again rushing over you like the waterfall at Brandywine. He sighed heavily and lifted a hand, almost as though he wanted to pat your shoulder, instead opting to remove his hat and set it on the nearby table before moving to the fireplace, moving several logs to the grate so he could start a fire.

“I’ll get this goin’,” he grunted and squatted, ripping matches along the surrounding stones. You sniffled, half upset he didn’t make an effort to calm you as he had done the previous morning. If he could tell you were disappointed, he didn’t let on, and instead kept his focus entirely on stoking the growing embers in front of him. As you had last night, you had the insatiable urge to swim in the crystal clear waters of the nearby pond. And without saying a word, or asking Arthur, you turned and left the cabin, skirt rustling as you stepped off the tiny porch and onto the dirt path leading down to the calm water.

Arthur watched your petite frame get smaller as you approached the shore. He knew he should have looked away when you began to undress, but he couldn’t help himself. Last night it would have been obvious if he watched you, but now you wouldn’t notice him glancing out the window. So Arthur quietly and stealthily watched as you unlaced and slipped off your boots before unbuttoning and shedding your blouse, and letting your skirt and bloomers slide into a crumpled pile of fabric at your feet. And once you lifted your chemise over your head, you were left completely nude. Arthur swallowed thickly, his eyes quickly roaming your body to soak in the sight of your bare skin. He wouldn’t let himself look for long, though. While he wanted to sit and unabashedly stare at you, to enjoy watching you float around the pond as you tried to forget your troubles, he knew he had to get at least a few things done in the cabin so it didn’t seem like he’d been looking at you the entire time.

Arthur didn’t speak when you returned to the cabin on account of being afraid his voice would betray the amount of time he spent watching you in the moonlit pond. He could not stop thinking about how the light reflected off of your damp skin as you floated on your back, eyes fixed on the starry sky.

And a few hours later, his mind was still racing with thoughts that made his cheeks red when you woke from a fitful slumber. Despite sleeping on a feather-filled mattress, covered with down-filled and cashmere blankets, an unshakable chill had settled into your bones. The glow coming from the main room of the cabin, called you to join Arthur by the fire.

“Arthur?” You whispered, taking a cautious step forward. He startled, sitting upright, eyes tearing away from the flame to land on your figure standing only feet away. He swallowed thickly, mouth going dry when he saw you, looking even more otherworldly in the dim light with your long blonde hair falling in waves, body covered only by a sheer chemise. You couldn’t help but smile at his pink cheeks and how he tried to ease his own awkward tension by running his hand through his shaggy blonde hair.

“S’wrong?”

He glanced up at you from his makeshift bed in front of the fireplace, trying to keep his eyes off of your barely covered body.

“I’m cold,” you smiled bashfully at telling the half-truth. The moment you’d shared the previous afternoon, coupled with the fact you’d given him plenty of opportunity to see you skinny dipping, provided enough courage for the first of many attempts you were prepared to make in order to seduce Arthur Morgan.

He sighed and ran his hands down his face, showing he knew exactly what you were getting at. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take you–he very much wanted to see your eyes half-lidded in pleasure because of him–it was that you would never fit into each other’s world. Mary had tried to get him to leave the cowboy life behind, tried to get him to walk the straight and narrow in proper society, but he couldn’t leave his gang. And if he couldn’t see himself in Mary’s well-to-do life, he definitely couldn’t see himself joining the Saint Denis elite. You, coming from a family of influential and wealthy aristocrats, would almost certainly struggle with a nomadic and criminal lifestyle. While you enjoyed your little expeditions in the city, it was nothing compared to the actively dangerous life Arthur led.

But thoughts of how the future would only be full of emotional agony for everyone involved rushed out of his mind when you continued approaching, bare feet not making a sound on the hardwood floor. Now he could clearly see the outline of your nipples, pointy from either the chill or arousal, he wasn’t sure. You smiled shyly, knowing a million thoughts were racing through Arthur’s head at the moment, the turmoil of his mind being given away by his slightly creased brow and frantically darting eyes. He exhaled slowly, eventually resigning to his perceived fate and held out his hand for you to take as you lowered yourself onto the bison fur topping the bedroll Arthur lay on. He avoided your gaze as you slid under the heavy wool blanket, but when you settled close, your arms curled between gently rising chests, he could only look at those big, innocent eyes.

“You’re warm,” you whispered, wriggling a little closer to absorb even more of the heat radiating off Arthur’s thick body. He tensed at the movement, his discomfort now undeniable; it was as though you were pressed against a tree stump.

You inhaled, ready to ask why he was like…this. Why, but more importantly, how, was he so uninterested in a sought-after beauty like yourself? But before you could get the words out, he cut you off, his gruff voice causing a rumble in his chest that sent shivers down your spine, “go to sleep, girl.”

The days passed slowly, but eventually you’d been at Moonstone for nearly a month. During that time, you tried to learn more about Arthur. Tried to get him to let you in even just a little. But none of your sweet words or soft touches loosened him up. He was an impenetrable force, a mystery you were desperate to solve before you had to return to the crowded streets of Saint Denis. And while you couldn’t get Arthur to show you as much as a crack in his stony exterior, he didn’t shy away from spending time with you. As he taught you the basics of how to cope with being so far from society, you found the time in the wilderness proved to be much more enjoyable than you originally expected. The air wasn’t thick with smoke or tinted with smells of the city. When the wind blew, it was sweet and invigorating, toying with the blonde curls that always fell out of your braid. The sight of you by the pond, writing or drawing or reading, always made Arthur’s stomach twist. It was so difficult to look at you, so perfect and pristine, and not think about being more than just your guardian. You thought about it too. You imagined being the subject of the scribbles he made in that worn leather journal he always carried. And you imagined those rough hands wandering your unmarked body. But soon your imagination was not enough. Thinking about being Arthur was not enough. The occasional brushes against arms were not enough. So one night you emerged from the bedroom, clad in only a chemise like the first night you spent in the cabin.

“Why won’t you?”

You demanded, arms crossed over your chest as you hovered in the doorway. Arthur startled at the sudden intrusion, snapping his journal closed and getting to his feet.

“Why won’t I what?” His voice had an unusually sharp tone to it, perhaps in a last ditch effort to scare you away. You raised an eyebrow, knowing Arthur knew exactly what you were asking. At the sight of your pleading stare, begging for an explanation as to why he wouldn’t have you, he resigned.

“Y/N/N,” he sighed and shook his head, “I can’t. We can’t,” he gestured between the two of you. You didn’t let his denial interrupt your pursuit of finally having him.

“Am I not attractive?”

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes, “you know that ain’t the case. I–”

“Do you have someone?”

“No, I–”

“So what is the problem?”

In what could only be called lust-clouded judgment, Arthur took a big step forward and cupped his hands around your face to pull you in for a kiss to cut the conversation short, handling you a bit rougher than before. He had you backed up against the wall in no time, much like the night you first met, only now your lips were intensely connected, moving against each other in utter desperation. When he pulled back, hands still caressing your delicate jawline, his nose barely brushed against yours.

“You ever even been with anyone, girl?”

The question you dreaded most finally made its appearance and you did not want to tell the truth. Being a spoiled socialite in Saint Denis had its perks, but it also had its drawbacks. Alone time with your courtiers was few and far between, given how religious your aunt and uncle were. The most you’d been able to experience was a clumsy fingering in the study during a holiday party. Maybe if you’d been courted by more rebellious gentlemen, you would have had the opportunity to do more, to sneak out at night and meet a lover. But that never happened, and now you were pinned against a wall by a man twice your size and nearly twice your age, who could have had dozens of women as lovers and the bodily knowledge to match. You looked up at him and exhaled softly, eventually shaking your head, “no.”

Arthur sighed, his mouth twitching—in either irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell–but continued brushing his thumbs over your cheekbones. You could tell he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. And you knew he wasn’t a proper gentleman with manners like the others; he could easily have his way with you, permission or not.

“Y’sure you wanna do this?”

Your pulse racing beneath his palm made him fairly sure of the answer before he asked the question. Though he wasn’t a society gentleman, he had a certain level of respect for you, and knew certain choices were yours to make. Your stomach twisted with anxiety and anticipation, but you refused to let the uncertain override such unabashed desire. So you nodded, slender hands moving to the nape of his neck, causing his breathing to quicken with temptation.

“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding frantically as the heat between your legs grew. Arthur exhaled, a deep rumble emanating from his chest while he lifted you, encouraging your legs to wrap around his solid waist. With shaking fingers, you began working at the buttons on his shirt, only achieving success with two before he gently laid you onto the overly plush bed, feather blankets sighing around you. You swallowed thickly and looked up at him, his normally bright blue eyes now dark with lust.

“We’re gon’ go slow,” he drawled, pulling back to grasp the hem of your chemise and tugging it upwards so you knew to remove the last thing protecting your modesty. Before you had the white garment tossed on the floor, Arthur was kneeling at the edge of the bed, his battle-worn hands brushing up and down your calves.

“Open up, girl,” he whispered when he noticed the confused look on your face, “jus’ trust me.”

A nervous whine caught in your throat but you did as he asked and loosened your muscles so he could spread your legs wide, tugging you a little closer to the edge of the bed in the process. His lips pressed against your porcelain skin, eliciting a shiver each time his scruff brushed against areas no one else had seen before.

“Oh,” you gasped sharply when his mouth eventually reached your center, surprised by the sensation it caused.

“Relax,” his command was muffled by your thighs, “jus’ enjoy.”

You didn’t have time to ask what it was you were supposed to be enjoying. Arthur’s tongue started working your folds, his mouth generating pleasure from things you didn’t know could be pleasurable. The more he sucked on that sensitive little nub, the more desire burned through your body, fireworks igniting in your head when he slid in a finger. When he curled inside of you, he hit a spot you didn’t know was there. It sent a jolt of electricity up your spine and elicited a high-pitched whine, proving to be all the encouragement Arthur needed to keep going. He wasn’t afraid to use every skill he’d gained over the years–not that he had an entire arsenal–but he wanted your first time to be as pleasurable as possible, perhaps for your satisfaction as much as his. Arthur knew that, as the man who deflowered you, he would set the standard for your future partners. Everyone that ended up between your thighs would be compared to him, and he wanted to be sure no one else would come close. And given your early reactions to how he touched you, he was confident his mission would be accomplished. While he tasted you–drank you, almost–your fingers buried themselves in his thick hair, tugging every time he hit that interior sweet spot. Then a second finger slid in, the simple ingredient being the thing that finally sent you over the edge. Your back arched, head pushing into the fluffy blankets while you tried to ride the foreign, but pleasurable, feeling now coursing through your veins.

“Arthur,” the breathiness of your moans made Arthur smile against your center where you were beginning to spasm around his fingers. He kept working, lips and fingers moving in tandem to finally cause your body to seize, your walls quickly clenching, calf muscles tensing, thighs trembling, and hands grabbing at whatever was within reach.

“Dieu,” you moaned quietly while the euphoria ebbed, rendering your body nearly useless from being drunk on pleasure.

Drunk on him.

You sighed and closed your eyes, letting Arthur maintain control over your lower extremities. He gently removed himself from your center and withdrew from between your legs, rising to his full height and stepping out of his jeans to join you in total nudity. Arthur handled you carefully, almost like he expected you to unravel at any given moment, as he readjusted your position on the bed. He made sure, though, that he could see the look on your face when you were taken for the first time. This was as much of a memorable experience for him as it was for you. He captured you underneath his body, one arm propping himself up while the other disappeared between your bodies, hand stroking his already hard member.

“Ready?” Arthur’s lust-laden eyes locked on yours, his rough hand moving to gently spread your thigh to allow entrance. You looked at him wide-eyed but eager, heart racing wildly, breath catching in your throat, you could only nod.

“‘Ts gonna be tight,” he murmured, serving as a warning for you but a reminder for him. He didn’t want to be taken by surprise at how snug the interaction would be–he would not be the first to come. For all the warm-up and preparation, there was nothing he could do to ease the amount of tension you’d both feel when he finally entered.

Your half-lidded eyes looked at him innocently, again nodding in acknowledgment. His burly hand found its place on the curve of your hips and your hands met his forearm to keep yourself grounded. Arthur slowly pushed forward, using every ounce of self control he had to keep from unrelentingly plowing into you. Despite the tenderness of his actions, you felt like you were being split in two while he continued his entrance, fingernails digging into his muscles as a reaction. But the pain spreading across your pelvis wasn’t identifiable as unpleasant. It felt almost...good. The burning desire that had been tearing through your body while he was between your legs was nothing compared to this. Arthur couldn’t help but smirk at how your eyes widened with the growing friction, or how quiet whimpers escaped your agape mouth once he completely filled you. He paused then, watching as you tried to relax, body tense from being so wholly penetrated for the first time.

“Y’okay?”

His question was accompanied by calloused fingers brushing over your cheekbones, eventually tangling in your hair to guide your face closer to his. He kissed you softly, intimately, showing a delicateness you wouldn’t think he was capable of. When Arthur pulled back, his eyes studied your face, trying to memorize every micro expression that flew across those porcelain features.

“Y-yeah,” you choked, nodding while your cheeks flushed bright pink. You hadn’t expected to feel so full, to be rendered virtually immovable because your core was no longer empty.

“Jus’ nice and slow,” he partially withdrew before pushing in again, his gaze still fixed on you so he saw every reaction. You’d never known satisfaction like this, and that was reflected in the way you looked at him. The way your eyes shone like the stars outside, the way your soft lips parted to whimper in acknowledgement of the foreign sensation taking over your body, the way you responded to a single touch, each one causing your breath to hitch.

“Mon dieu,” you moaned, fingers digging into his arms while your back again arched in pleasure, “Arthur.” His stomach knotted when you repeated his name, your French accent making it sound more delicious than it actually was. A few slow pumps caused your slick to loosen more than his fingers allowed while still providing the tension that fueled the desire still flooding your veins. It was a drug you could not get enough of.

Your hands moved to the nape of his neck, drawing Arthur in for another kiss, your lips locking tenderly as he continued his gentle thrusts. When he pushed in a little harsher than before, you moaned again and wrapped your legs around his waist, a motion that just felt right, like it could get you even closer together.

The adjustment caused Arthur to lose some self control. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, attempting to disguise his moan as a kiss to your collarbone.

“Arthur,” you whined, nails raking down his back in impatience grown from the desperate need generated by your sudden addiction. The coil in your belly was tightening, and you wanted it to unravel as soon as it could so that rush of pleasure, that undeniable euphoria, could be experienced again. After another moan and several kisses up your neck, Arthur reached up to grip the headboard, pressure building in your core as the intensity and frequency of Arthur’s thrusts increased.

“Oui,” you moaned breathily, pushing your head back into the pillow while your back arched, bringing your bodies even closer together. When Arthur’s hand slid from your hair to where your centers met and began massaging that swollen nub, you lost any resolve maintaining your composure.

“Merde,” the curse was almost whispered to yourself. But Arthur wanted to hear your pleasure fill his ears and his thrusts once again increased in power, your body willingly accepting the additional force.

“Arthur,” your eyes clenched shut, brow furrowed, fingers digging into Arthur’s broad back while you bit down on your lower lip.

“No need to bite your tongue girl,” his whispered comment taking you back to the night you learned his name. With permission to be loud, you stopped silencing your vocals and with a guttural moan you let out a string of curses that would make even Arthur blush if he knew what you were saying. It felt like a bolt of lightning struck your body, its spark radiating from the spot where you and Arthur met in the most intimate way.

Arthur came just after you, his spend painting your walls white. He knew he shouldn’t have done it but he was just possessive enough that he couldn’t resist the urge to leave his mark, no matter how temporary it might be. Your chest heaved as you tried to gather the shattered pieces of your mind back together, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment to provide some reprieve.

“You alright?”

Arthur’s gravelly voice broke through the blissful fog still hanging over your thoughts. You exhaled slowly but nodded, still unable to find your voice. Blankets being pulled over your exposed body finally made your eyes open. Arthur was still next to you, still unclothed, cheeks still pink with arousal.

“Can…” he cleared his throat, “can I touch ya?”You cocked your head to the side, a little smile making Arthur blush with embarrassment.

“You don’t need to ask for permission,” your hand rose from the plush of the mattress to take Arthur’s wrist and guide it to the curve of your waist, where his hand trembled with hesitancy before finally sliding lower to the spot where dimples decorated the bottom of your spine. A sweet silence fell over the room while your hands gently roamed each other’s body. His calloused hands could not get enough of your soft skin. Your small hands could not trace enough of the scars littering his chest and arms.

“Whadda looking at those for?” The rumble in his chest prompted you to glance up at him through thick eyelashes. You shrugged, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips, “just wondering their stories.”

Arthur’s exhaled breath skimmed over the top of your head, “none you’d be happy to hear, darlin.”

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