#The Prisoners Throne Peeks

[ezziefae]

Thoughts while reading The Prisoners Throne Excerpt

Here's a rushed annotation of some parts of the excerpt that really drew my attention. Jurdan fans be ready for many surprises.

"Imagine you have a weapon. They had been in Vivi’s second apartment, standing on a small metal balcony. Inside, Taryn and Vivi had been fussing over Leander, who was learning to crawl. The Ghost had asked about Oak’s training and been uninterested in the excuse that he was eleven, had to go to school, and couldn’t be swinging around a longsword in the common space of the lawn without neighbors getting worried."

(this is a flashback) Taryn’s child makes their first debut!! Taryn named the boy Leander. (I’m assuming its a boy name) Since the Ghost is in Vivi’s apartments could that be a hint that he’s romantically involved with Taryn? Or it could also be that he’s accompanied Taryn to protect her. It's super cool to see The Ghost and Oak training together.

"Oak had actually liked making his own sword. It was huge and black with a bright red hilt covered in demonish faces. It looked like the sword of someone in an anime he’d been watching, and he felt like a badass, holding it in his hands. The sight of Oak’s blade had made the Ghost smile, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, he started moving through a series of exercises, urging Oak to follow. He told the prince should call him by his non‑spy name, Garrett, since they were friends."

Love that Holly is still referencing anime in the Elfhame series. Can we also talk about The Ghost’s character development? In TFOTA series he always kept to himself, and now he’s letting his closest friends call him by his real name.

"The prince has been imprisoned three weeks, according to the tallies he’s made in the dust beneath the lone bench. Long enough to dwell on every mistake he has made on his ill‑fated quest."

THREE WEEKS??? What the heck have Jude and Cardan been doing for three weeks??? I honestly expected for him to be rescued asap. If anything Jude and Cardan have been carefully planning to save oak and I guess that takes a lot of time. 

"His family must be in a panic right now. He trusts that Tiernan got Madoc to Elfhame safely, no matter what the redcap general wanted. But Jude would be furious with Tiernan for leaving Oak behind and even angrier with Madoc, if she guesses just how much of this is his fault."

I really want to see someone from Elfhame’s POV on Jude finding out on Oak being taken prisoner by Wren. I want to see a raging Jude. I’d be terrified to be in Tiernan’s place, since it was his job to protect Oak, and he failed that.

"Possibly Cardan would be relieved to be rid of Oak, but that wouldn’t stop Jude from making a plan to get him back. Jude has been ruthless on Oak’s behalf before, but this is the first time it’s scared him. Wren is dangerous. She is not someone to cross. Neither of them are."

OHH??? OHHH???? So many things are thrown at us here. Oak has a reason to believe that Cardan doesn’t like him??? To the point where Oak believes Cardan would even be RELIEVED to get rid of him? That was SUPER unexpected. Oak finally takes it in that neither Wren or Jude are people to cross. As much as I hate saying this, I want a Jude and Wren fight. That would be amazing. Not saying I want either of them to die, or get hurt, but that would be an intense scene. 

“I can do better,” he says. “And perhaps you might bring me a little gossip to cheer the chilly monotony of my days.” “You’re very silly, Your Highness,” she says after a moment, biting her bottom lip a little.

Oak is using his most dangerous power, seduction. Screaming. 

"He remembers Oriana’s warning to him when he was a child. A power like the one you have is dangerous, she said. You can know what other people most want to hear. Say those things, and they will not only want to listen to you. They will come to want you above all other things. The love that a gancanagh inspires—some may pine away for desire of it. Others will carve the gancanagh to pieces to be sure no one else has it."

I'm so glad holly is diving deep into this, We know that Locke also had this power, and how he was wielding it in TFOTA series. 

"That night, he wakes to the sight of a snake crawling down the wall, its black metal body jeweled and glittering. A forked emerald tongue tastes the air at regular intervals, like a metronome. It startles him badly enough for him to back up against the bars, the iron hot against his shoulders. He has seen creatures like it before, forged by the great smiths of Faerie. Valuable and dangerous. The paranoid thought comes to him that poison would be one straightforward way to solve the problem of his being held by an enemy of Elfhame. If he were dead, there’d be no reason to pay a ransom."

Oak sees this snake, and he immediately thinks it was sent from elfhame to kill him. Which is insane for him to believe that. 

"He doesn’t think his sister would allow it, but there are those who might risk going around her. Grima Mog, the new grand general, would know exactly where to find the prince, having served the Court of Teeth herself. Grima Mog might look forward to the war it would start. And, of course, she answered to Cardan as much as Jude."

"Not to mention there was always the possibility that Cardan convinced Jude that Oak was a danger to them both."

WHAT IS THIS DISAPPROVAL CARDAN HAS ON OAK?? The fact that Oak believes Cardan sent the snake to KILL HIMM, that's absolute madness. Like what the helll did this man do to Oak to make him feel this way?? Cryingggg. 

"It yawns widely enough for him to see silver fangs. The links of its body move, and a ring comes up from its throat, clanging to the floor. He leans down and lifts it. A gold ring with a deep blue stone, scuffed with wear. His ring, a present from his mother on his thirteenth birthday and left behind on his dresser because it no longer fit his finger. Proof that this creature was sent from Elfhame. Proof that he was supposed to trust it."

THIS IS THE RING THAT'S ON THE COVER!! Now we know what the ring means to Oak!!

“Prinss,” it says. “In three daysssss, you mussss be ready for resssss‑cue.” “Rescue?” Not here to poison him, then. The snake just stares with its cold, glittering eyes.

Okay so Jude sent a snake as a messenger to Oak, to let him know that they're coming to save him in three days. Cool….coool.

“Give me longer,” he says, no matter that it’s ridiculous to negotiate with a metal snake and even more ridiculous to negotiate for his own imprisonment, just in order to get a chance to speak with someone who refuses to see him. “Two more weeks perhaps. A month.”

THIS STUBBORN BOYYYYYY. Oh I know Jude would be absolutely furious for that.

"Oak slides the ring onto his pinkie finger, watching the snake as it coils its way up the wall. Halfway to the ceiling, he realizes that just because it wasn’t sent to poison him doesn’t mean it wasn’t sent to poison someone."

BIG MISTAKE MISTER SNAKE, BIGGGGG MISTAKEEEE.

He jumps onto the bench and grabs for it, catching the end of its tail. With a tug, it comes off the wall, falling against his body and coiling around his forearm. “Prinsssss,” it hisses. As it opens its mouth to speak, he notes the tiny holes in the points of its silvery fangs. When it does not strike, Oak pries the snake carefully from around his arm. Then, gripping the end of its tail firmly, he slams it down against the stone bench. Hears the cracking of its delicate mechanical parts. A gem flies off. So does a piece of metal. He whips it against the bench again.

Oak really said “oh hell no, you're not killing the women i love, nah uh,” and then proceeds to kill it in a very violent unsettling manner. Everyone was right when they said that Oak was like Madoc.

Straun spits on the floor in front of the prince’s cage. “No amount of gold or gems will save you. If my winter queen wants you to rot here, you’re going to rot.” “Your winter queen?” Oak repeats, unable to stop himself. The falcon looks a little shamefaced and turns to go back to his post. He’s young, Oak realizes. Older than Oak, but not by so very much. Younger than Hyacinthe. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Wren made such an impression on him. It shouldn’t bother Oak, shouldn’t fill him with a ferocious jealousy.

THE JEALOUSY HAS ME CACKLING. He was imprisoned, neglected in his cell by wren and yet he's jealous whenever someone else has lovey dovey eyes for wren. This man is so down for wren, and I don’t blame him. 

The Ghost taught him how to move stealthily, but he’s never been very good at it. He blames his hooves, heavy and hard. They clack at the worst possible times. But he makes an effort, sliding them against the floor to minimize noise.

Super cool to see how much The Ghost has impacted Oak's skills. The court of shadows in general has been a huge part in Oak’s training and it shows.

Oak moves fast, jerking Straun backward and covering his nose and mouth with the cloth. The guard struggles, but inhaling blusher mushroom slows his movements. Oak presses him to the floor until he’s unconscious.

THERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Welp, The excerpt ends in Oak escaping his cell…..after all thar chaos i've become too impatient. Just 3 Months until this book comes out !!! 

#CARDAN DOESNT LIKE OAK?? THATS INSANE #JUDE AND CARDAN ARE REALLY COMING BACK #jude duarte #holly black #the folk of the air #jurdan #oak greenbriar #the prisoners throne #elfhame #the stolen heir #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #The Prisoners Throne Peeks

[pendragora]

Placing Dimensions and Eye Directions Analysis for Season 2 Posters

Disclaimer: before we go forward, I want to remind everyone that I am a random person on the Internet and this is a simple interpretation that I created using my knowledge on composition, dimension plains and perspective in drawing. If you choose to add input – please, be respectful about it, it’s an open discussion; as the creator of this take, I am not going to take any insults, hate or negativity over a simple fandom post, so be warned that I will block such on sight. If you find my ideas and analysis unpleasant for your perception of the characters – please, disengage and feel free to block me as well. Let’s all be civil :))

In this post I will talk about the placing of each team individually, towards team members and then each other. Along with that, I will be analysing characters’ poses and line of sights for each of them individually since it is telling a pretty compelling story. As a reference I will be using a merged image of all posters together in one (credits to @liv-cole for the image that I saw here and @ara-meyy for showing it to me when it first appeared on Reddit)

Let’s first take a look at Team Green and their stance:

The far back is taken up by Criston Cole and then Aegon on the Iron Throne. First and foremost, the farthest in the whole plain. He does not line up with anyone in the picture and his placement makes the most sense – in the canon of next seasons, Criston will take the position the Hand, which does put him so close to Aegon with his sword at the ready. He the final line of protection for the king, however, his eyes are not directed to the side – in the direction of Team Black.

However, he is placed slightly behind Aegon and his throne. His eyes are also looking forward at the angle that makes him look beyond the banner of Team Green and, in order, is directed at Aemond, not Team Black. The sight is not the one you would describe as of certainty. I could go off about the shot being not the most pleasant, but I could also theorise that Criston’s sight is telling us about the caution with which he could potentially treat Aemond in further seasons.

Aegon’s position on the poster is slightly closer to the viewer than Cole’s but still is further than Aemond’s or Alicent’s. His figure is quite interesting and, in all honesty, contrasting to what we saw in the sneak-peek of the second season. He looks both relaxed and tensed on the throne. The general language of the way he is seated is aloof, he is not wearing his crown, but is holding it as a window into his future. He comes off as the transition period between the man we saw in the sneak-peek and the previous season. He is tensed by his duty, by the Iron Throne, but his hedonistic nature has not left him yet.

What is most interesting is his line of sight. If we look at his eyes, they are not directed at anyone at all. They go straight throne the circle of his crown and off into the distance. He is not on the same field to look at Rhaenyra or anyone else. His look is one of absence. Being the king on the Iron Throne, he is isolated from the conflict by his posing. The reasoning for it might be 1) his transition period into an active participant of war (before Blood and Cheese), 2) his present reluctance to be in this conflict that was established in previous season or 3) mostly his absence in the season after his character goes through dragon fire. Perhaps, we would see more of his struggles as the king and, if lucky, even the progression from an unwilling heir to the king that takes charge and makes decisions.

Interestingly enough, his line of sight goes beyond all of Team Green members and out the frame before it reaches Team Black members. If it is not his future he is looking at, it is like a prison cell’s window at the freedom he could have, perhaps?

Next comes Aemond, who is in the most front of the picture. What’s important to note here, his figure is the closes to the viewer and is actually on the same dimension field as Rhaenyra. He is stood between her and Aegon which makes sense since Aemond will be a driving force of the war (which also affected the number of episodes we will see him in). He is not the focus of the conflict, but he is the line of defence for his family and a force to reckon with. His hand is above the hilt of the sword, he is at the ready to draw it and, unlike Criston, his stance is not cautious but confident. He also has his lip corners up in the poster, enjoying the thrill of war, the hold of power that he has.

His line of sight is directed straight into Rhaenyra’s face, not anyone else. She is his primary concern or, perhaps, a target, because she is the main threat to his family and his brother’s ruling. Among his team, he looks like the most natural and merged into his role of protector. Note that this does not oppose Aemond and Rhaenyra, and, if it does, it is a one-sided conflict in which Aemond is involved while Rhaenyra is not an active participant.

The last in Team Green and the closest to Team Black is Alicent.

It is clear why she is stood in front of everyone in the team, but she is much further in the background. The placing of her dimension makes her stand a layer above Aegon but two layers deeper than Aemond. She looks reserved and worried, and such placing shows that she is not Rhaenyra’s main opposition. She, as was shown in the previous season, would stand in front of her kids to protect them, which places her front-line in team’s order, but it is no longer her conflict, no longer a rivalry between her and Rhaenyra. Unlike the book version, show!Alicent is not the mastermind, but a scared and devoted to her cause mother, and when the time comes for war – she gives way to her children (being placed in the background) but still shows that she is present and protective of them (being the first in line).

Her eyes are terrified and teary, looking at Rhaenyra. It shows very well her stance in the show, that her motivation was the fear for the life of her children before Rhaenyra.

Now off to the Team Black.

Since we are going from left to right, I’m going to start with Rhaenyra, who is also the representative of Team Black.

Surprisingly so, her and Alicent have similar poses, but the position translates a different message. While Alicent is one of resolve and acceptance of her position in the background, Rhaenyra’s pose is showing her leadership. She is showing herself as the queen in this poster and, it is really hard to miss, but in a way her stance reminds me of 8th season Daenerys (I personally dislike the parallels because I think Rhaenyra would be better off as a stand-alone character, but hype train is a hype train).

She stands tall, she wears her crown, she is dressed as a ruler and as a dragonrider. What is interesting, though, is that her line of sight is directed forward. Since she is on the same plain as Aemond, they both are the closest to the viewer and share dimension, she is not looking at him. She is looking forward, past him. My ideas for this are 1) she is looking at the Iron Throne in the background, not even Aegon, but the throne itself; 2) she is looking into the future, since, in Western culture, the idea of looking forward is associated with the future. Her sight shows determination and readiness for battle or her looking forward for her victory. The entirety of Rhaenyra shows here that she is the rightful heir in her own eyes and she is going to take what is hers.

The idea that her sight goes through both Aemond and Aegon and ignores them, in a way, reinforces the narrative that they are irrelevant to her, they are not the threat and, because of that, be the things the other way, she would not have them executed because they simply do not matter to her this much. It is not a battle between her and her siblings here or her and Alicent, but it is a story about her battle for the throne, as it seems.

What also caught my attention is that both Daemon and Alicent stand distant from Rhaenyra, practically within the same distance from each of her sides. It is purely my take here, but perhaps it is showing the relationship that she lost or is going to lose (given the rift that awaits her and Daemon?).

Now moving along to Daemon. Personally, I expected him to placed closer to his queen, given the establishment of their relationships, but in the poster, he is one a layer deeper into the background than she is. His overall posture of, not protectiveness towards his queen, but rather protectiveness of himself gives mixed signals as if it is not him being Rhaenyra’s shield, but her being his. Given what happens in canon between them, it might be foreshadowing.

However, what drives the point is his line of sight. He is looking up and forward, and, unfortunately, the way he is placed behind Rhaenyra makes it seem that his eyes are directed not at her, but at the crown. His general expression is not of a man that is preparing to protect his loved one, but one of a man who is scheming a way out for himself, there is a fleeting concern and calculation in the way he looks. For the sake of not hurting anyone’s feelings, it is purely my take and my reading of his character in the poster, take me as biased.

Daemon is ready to strike, but strike who?

Following figure is Rhaenys.

Rhaenys has a reserved pose and a look that is peeking at someone or something. Given the background from the show, there isn’t much to say about her in the poster. She strikes me as an unwilling participant of the war, but a participant that is going to do her bidding and show her strength. Rhaenys stands tall, truly like the Queen Who Never Was, and her stance shows that she will be a force to reckon with too, considering she is a dragonrider and a skilled one at that.

Her eyesight can indicate two things: she is looking forward, with a tilt of her head, which potentially places Alicent at her line of sight. It makes sense in a way given their confrontation in two instances in a previous episode. It feels as if she, as a mother who lost both of her children, asks her how far she is willing to go to protect who’s dear to her. It feels like in this there is a conflict of two mothers that is established: the mother that lost everything and now fights for what is left of her children (since Baela and Rhaena are indirectly pulled into the war as well) and the mother that will lose everything in the future. Alternatively, Rhaenys could be looking at Aegon and the Iron Throne, but at this point of her development as a character, that makes little to no sense.

Lastly, Corlys. Just like Aegon, he looks isolated from the conflict, but for different reasons. Initially, I had a thought that he was looking forward, and, considering that he takes place further in the background than anyone on Team Black, he could be looking at Aegon and the Iron Throne, but upon close inspection I concluded that Corlys is most likely looking outside the window. It perhaps is foreshadowing for him later on searching a way out of the conflict or out of the list of Rhaenyra’s supporters.

Now, to the parallels between the characters.

Aegon and Corlys are literally the last men standing of both their teams – both on the poster and in canon. They will be the last surviving men of their respected teams, having only Alicent outlive them both.

Daemon and Aemond being opposed only by their placement as the second from the centre of the poster – perhaps, a foreshadowing for a battle that they will clash in; Aemond is looking forward and, like in canon, anticipates the fight and goes in confidently while Daemon is looking out for himself specifically and does not acknowledge Aemond as a threat for himself.

Rhaenys and Alicent – a conflict between two mothers that already lost everything or will lose everything, the Queen Who Never Was and the Queen in Chains, both trapped in this conflict because of their children or what is left of them (grandchildren).

Aegon and Rhaenyra and the way they treat their role – Rhaenyra merging into her role as a queen and wearing her crown proudly while Aegon looks through in as if a window outside his prison.

Overall, the teams display different attitude.

Team Green looks like a well-established line of defence around Aegon: his Hand is by his side; his brother is the main force of protection and then his mother who would sacrifice herself to save him. Their placement is to protect Aegon from the threat of Team Black.

Team Black appears, to say the least, not as the protection for Rhaenyra, but people who hide behind her, which surprised me. It looks rather fickle, with Daemon and Corlys being anywhere but present to protect their queen. They also form a perfect line from the back to the centre that shows that it is not only Rhaenyra’s fight, but it is also not them fearing Team Green, but having a goal to get back the Iron Throne.

#hotd season 2 #hotd season 2 posters #hotd critical #team green #team black #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen #corlys velaryon #criston cole #rhaenys the queen who never was #rhaenys targaryen #poster analysis #house of the dragon #hotd meta #lena goes off

[deceitfulapple-eatingscoundrel]

CARDAN AND JUDE QUOTES FROM THE PRISONER’S THRONE

Holly Black read from The Prisoner's Throne in 4 seperate TikToks for hotkeybooks. Here are the 4 snippets (along with the links to all 4 videos 😌):

Jude only gives her brother a grim smile, “Well then what a wonderful opportunity for you to prove your loyalty and die.”

Oak can feel the sharp edges of her nails as they dig into his neck. He shivers with the sensation. He doesn’t want careful anymore than he wants safe.

“Have I ever told you how much you sound like Madoc when you talk about murder?, Cardan asks, opening one eye. “Because you do.”

“If you mean for me to be your pet,” Oak says, “there’s no reason to return me to my pen. My leash is very secure as you have shown, you have only to pull it taut.”

#Holly Black #The Stolen Heir #TSH #The Prisoner’s Throne #TPT #Oak Greenbriar #suren #wren #oakwren #Cardan Greenbriar #Jude Duarte #jurdan

[pianokantzart]

The One To Blame

A one shot based off this discussion, so I hold @a-la-orilla-del-rio and @istadris responsible.

UPDATE: It has expanded past being a one shot and is now available on A03, (or you can continue reading it here on Tumblr): Part 2 Part 3

______ Luigi hid amongst the jagged stone and brutish architecture of Bowser's castle, thankful for the large collection of self-aggrandizing statues that provided the perfect cover, creating long dark shadows and small cramped corners he could hide in. At the same time, the decor pricked at old memories that he struggled to push aside: bound and frightened, disoriented and confused, dragged by aching wrists to where he and Bowser first met face to face. Luigi would’ve been happy to stay a thousand miles away from The Darklands for the rest of his life, but he couldn't allow his brother to embark on this rescue mission all by himself. Even if Luigi knew for certain that Mario didn't need his help, he wished to do everything in his power to see to Princess Peach's safe return. She had put her life on the line to save him once before, it was only right to do the same for her.

Luigi's head began to ache from unreleased adrenaline as he crept along the edges of the throne room, slowly venturing near enough to hear the group of voices gathered around Bowser. The small plumber tentatively peeked out from obsidian pedestal of one of the statues, and observed the unfolding scene. The King of The Koopas stood at the base of his towering throne of masonry and wrought iron, Kamek at one side, and on his other side Princess Peach, locked in an enormous gilded cage of rose gold, filled with plush pink furniture. She was safe. Unhappy, of course, but unharmed. Luigi allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief.

Bowser was commiserating with a squadron of paratroopers, the most highly decorated of them fluttering at the forefront, eye-to-eye with the king.

"The Prison Ship was forced to make an emergency landing near The Valley Fortress,” the soldier explained with a salute. “Word got back that Mario has disappeared, but he couldn’t have gone far! We'll recapture him soon enough."

Hearing this, Luigi couldn't help but smile. The Prison Ship was where he and Mario were forced to split up. It was where Luigi had no choice but to run for the sake of his own survival and leave his big brother behind. Mario did his best to ease Luigi's fears, swearing his own safety and promising that he'd figure out a plan. It appeared Mario was true to his word, and now Bowser's forces were running themselves ragged trying to track him down. It was as good a spur-of-the-moment plan as any: Mario would hold the attention of The Dark Lands while he– Luigi – freed Princess Peach. They’d escape the castle, regroup with Mario, and find their way back to The Mushroom Kingdom. Simple. Easy. No problem.

The paratrooper proved himself worthy of his position as he remained firm in his saluting position, not even flinching as Bowser began to shout.

"Don't recapture him! Sparing him at all was a mistake! Give the order to kill on sight!" "No!" The harsh voice of Princess Peach, normally so calm and gentle, was startling to hear as she slammed her fists against the cage door. The sincerity in her upset appeared to flip a switch in Bowser's manner, evoking something resembling sympathy. He dismissed his troops, and as they fluttered out of the room Bowser turned to his beloved, hands held out plaintively.

"Peaches! I know it's hard to accept, but this is what is best for us, I promise you!" "Us?!" Peach huffed, struggling to maintain her royal composure. "There is no us! Ever since we've met you have done nothing but try to destroy everything I care about!" "Exactly! we've been fighting each other for so long when we should have been fighting for each other! You didn't even have time to recognize my good qualities, just like it took me so long to finally recognize yours..." He looked almost pitiable, big-eyed and pleading as he kneeled down and held his hands over his heart. "But you'll see! I'll prove to you how much of a match we are. You'll forget those silly, fleeting feelings you had for Mario-" "No! I… There are no feelings, Bowser!" Luigi couldn't help but feel Peach's voice lacked conviction, but he hoped that the draconic tyrant would take her for her word as she continued... "We're friends. Just friends, don't you understand? And Mario doesn't love me either. The only reason he ever accompanied me was because he was worried about his brother."

A strange silence hung in the air. Luigi felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and Peach placed her hands to her mouth in slow realization of the dangers of what she'd just said. Before she could make an effort to undo her mistake, Bowser broke the silence.

"His brother... Luigi," he muttered in a voice thick with revulsion. "So, he's the one Mario told you he was after? And if the gossip that floats between your palace guards is worth believing, Luigi is also the one who first discovered the warp pipe that led to our world."

"Bowser, please don't." Peach begged, "he's my friend too." "Why!?" Luigi couldn't help but cover his ears as Bowser's voice shook the throne room. Smoke poured from his nostrils, his chest heaving with rage. "He didn't train with you! He didn't travel alongside you! He didn't go to the ends of the earth to win you over! All he ever did was jump in at the last second to save Mario!" That final sentence triggered a fresh wave of anger. His eyes flashed red, clawed hands curling in front of him like he was trying to wring an invisible throat. "Mario. I'd have already killed him if it wasn't for his stinkin' brother! I knew he was trouble since he first snuck into my territory... speaking to me like I was an idiot! Telling lies!... Telling me that I... I wasn't good enough for you!" And just like that, his fearsome roars tapered off into the whimpering tone of a spurned teenager. Luigi– backing a little further into the shadows cast by the stone– never felt so confused in his life. Hearing a creature of such fearful, unrestrained power act so hurt over a mere insult was bewildering in and of itself, but Luigi was certain he hadn’t said anything like that. He still couldn't quite remember how that conversation went... the memory was too terrifying to recall between the moment he admitted his brother's name and the moment he was thrown to the floor, but surely he didn’t say that!

Then, beyond the haze of confusion, a new realization dawned on him… Kamek had been awfully silent. Luigi glanced about the throne room, slowly realizing that he had been so focused on Peach and Bowser’s conversation that he didn’t see where Kamek had disappeared to. That was when an innate sense of danger pricked at his heart, and a familiar voice spoke from behind him: “Well well well! Speak of the devil…” On instinct Luigi ducked to the side, dodging a blast of magic that would have rendered him immobile. With equal swiftness, he followed it up with a kick to Kamek’s hand that sent his wand flying across the room. Luigi would’ve congratulated himself for his quick reflexes, had the heavy thud of fast-approaching footsteps not robbed him of all sense of victory.

The struggle was brief. A clawed hand came down, narrowly dodged. Luigi flinched and stumbled as bits of rubble from the damaged statue pelted his face, and that moment of half-blindness was all that Bowser needed. Next thing Luigi knew, a familiar, scaly palm clamped down around his torso and lifted him into the air, squeezing so tight he couldn’t even take a breath.

 “Kamek!” Bowser’s voice called. “Yes, sire?” The wizard asked meekly, fixing his glasses and rubbing his sore hand while crossing the room to recollect his wand. “Keep an eye on my bride to be. I have a score to settle” Luigi felt his body jolted about like a ragdoll with every step Bowser took toward the doors leading out of the room. The plumber struggled, kicking his feet and twisting his body, trying to wrench himself free until Bowser’s grip tightened further, and Luigi’s inability to breathe turned into a sharp pain that made him fear being snapped in half. He went passive then, falling limp in hopes of buying himself some time. Head bowed, he stared hopelessly at Princess Peach as the distance between them grew wider. He mouthed an attempt at an apology. The Princess stretched a hand through the bars, as though if she strained against her cage hard enough she could break through and come to his aid. “Don’t hurt him! Please!” she begged. “We’re both royals, aren’t we? Let’s negotiate! Bowser!”

Her words went unheeded. She only had time to call Bowser’s name once more before her voice was cut off by the heavy doors slamming shut, leaving Bowser alone with his new scapegoat clasped tightly in the palm of his hand.

#my writing #Mario Movie #Mario #Luigi #Super Mario Brothers #Super Mario Bros #Nemesis Luigi AU #or at least that's what I'm calling it until a different name comes to mind #might make a part 2 but who knows

[istadris]

Bend or Break

[ @akibouken you’re to blame for motivating me to finally write this plotbunny down with your cute Luigi petting art. Sorry about the angst, but know that I had your artstyle in mind while writing]

[EDIT] : now on AO3

[EDIT 2] now with a "sequel"

*

The human would not break.

Bowser knew it from his eyes. No matter how terrified, cowardly, vulnerable he was, trapped alone in a hostile land at the mercy of a powerful king, crushed in his grip, threatened of unending suffering, the human’s eyes still showed, buried beneath the fear and despair, a determination to not give anything about the other one. All Bowser had been able to obtain were accidental slips born from confusion and panic: that they knew each other, that they were brothers. Nothing else since.

He wouldn’t break.

So Bowser decided to switch tactics.

After leaving him to stew an appropriate amount of time in the jails, Bowser had the human brought again to the throne room.

This time his hands were free: what was the need to tie them up, when fear bound him more efficiently than shackles? It added another subtle layer of humiliation to the ordeal: to be considered so little a threat that restraining him would be useless. None of Bowser’s enemies would ever let him walk freely and unbound on their grounds if they had the opportunity.

Sitting on his throne, he took his time to observe his prisoner at the bottom of the stairs. He was cowering, darting nervous looks around him in a vain search for an escape. He had none of the defiance that some captives showed Bowser in the past: no glaring, no proud stature, no insolent spitting at his feet. Not even the courage to look at him.

“Come closer.”

The human didn’t move from his spot.

Bowser narrowed his eyes.

“I won’t ask again.”

The human relented, slowly climbing the steps toward the thrones, his hands clutched to his chest, his shoulders hunched, trembling more and more with each step, until he stopped on the last one, his eyes downcast and closed as if expecting to be torched on the spot if he breathed in the wrong direction.

Bowser huffed in amusement.

“Are you scared?”

“Y-y-you know the-the answer”, the human managed to stutter with a nervous laugh, “Of c-course I am.”

“More than usual?”

“Why-what do you m-mean?”

“That you’re a coward, and an easy target.” The human flinched at the harsh words but didn’t protest. “Everything about you screams that you’re used to being afraid. Easy to bully and push around, running and hiding at the first sign of danger, unable to defend yourself.”

It didn’t take a genius to guess any of that. He had met Toads braver than his man.

“Yet you stand up to me and refuse to yield. Why, I wonder…maybe because you’re also used to facing danger with someone by your side? Someone who protects you and keeps you safe.” From the way the human flinched as in caught red-handed, he got it spot on.

“You think he’ll come for you. Because he’s your brother.”

“M-Maybe. What would you know about f-family?” the human spat in the most aggressive tone Bowser had ever heard him use.

The prisoner didn’t know that in any other circumstances, Bowser would have torched him alive and ripped him apart limb from limb for such disrespect. Instead, he leaned forward with a low hum, not aggressive enough for a growl, but enough to make his prisoner yelp and cover his head in his arms.

Bowser let the silence weigh in the room for several seconds. After a moment, the human peeked out from behind his arms, and looked confusedly as Bowser sat back down in his throne.

“I have news about him. Your brother.”

It had the effect of a bob-omb on the captive: stunned, gaping, unwilling to believe it. It was enough to make him forget his fear for a moment, with something looking like relief daring to peek through.

“What-how…I thought-?”

“I have spies. Eyes and ears in every kingdom. Their reports take a bit of time to arrive though. I hoped you’d be faster to give me answers, but well.”

The human was burning to know more, he could see it, but afraid to ask. Afraid of what Bowser could ask in exchange, or of giving something away in his eagerness? It did not matter, as Bowser curled his claws to inspect them, as if disinterested by the matter, before talking again.

“They told me he is in the Mushroom Kingdom.”

“Mushroom …?”

“A quaint little place, far away from here. All green hills and mushroom fields, full of friendly faces, safe and soft. The kind of place you’re not in a hurry to leave. You’d love it.”

“How…” the human shut himself up, biting his lips for several seconds before finally asking in a quavering voice, “how …is he?”

Bowser held back from smirking as his prey took the bait.

“They told me he’s doing very well there, your brother. Has been there for…hm, about as long as you have been here. A month, by now? ”

“That long?!”

“He’s settled there quickly, from what I heard. He’s learning the local ways. Got himself a cosy place. Made friends all over the place, including the princess.”

“The…princess?”

“Who wouldn’t like her? She might be my enemy, but she's a delightful woman. Brave, clever, fascinating, beautiful to top it off...and from what I was told, she's sweet on him too. Not that he minds, on the contrary, he's always around her...I wonder when he'll finally come for you.”

He didn’t mention the reports of the red-clad human throwing himself from dawn to dusk over training courses to get stronger, no matter how many bones he would break in the process. Nor that the princess had to stop him by force from going alone in the wilds when he had grown desperate from impatience. He didn’t mention the rumours about the kind-hearted human obsessed with finding his missing brother to the point some worried about his sanity.

Instead, he took in the nervousness growing in his prisoner’s face; the growing questioning of what he had taken as granted. The shock of the realisation that help would not come. Because if his brother wasn’t held back, if he was free and in good health, why would he take so long? Bowser observed the expression of the man coming to the dreadful realisation that this time, he was truly alone.

“What…what if you’re lying? What says he’s even still…still okay?”

Bowser frowned outwardly at the accusation, but he was internally satisfied. His captive was now grasping at straws, clinging to a desperate hope that he had not been betrayed.

“Because if he was dead”, he stated calmly, “I wouldn’t need to concern myself about him anymore, and if I had captured him, I would brag about it for all to hear.” He narrowed his eyes, staring straight into the human’s gaze. “You might find it hard to believe, but everything I told you, since you first arrived in my walls, was the truth. Whether you like it or not.”

“I…I don’t believe you. He’s not like…like you said.”

The words would have been defiant if they weren’t said in such a small, wavering voice. He didn’t believe his own words.

Was there bad blood between the two humans right before their arrival? Or did he have doubts before, about the strength of their bond, but pushed down deep under denial and illusions? Had he feared to be abandoned before? This was a man who couldn’t bear to be alone, used as he was to a partner, a protector against the world’s fury.

He wanted, more than anything, to feel safe.

“Come closer.”

This time, the human obeyed right away, stepping forward as if in a daze, his haunted eyes fixed to the ground, until he was standing right in front of Bowser. One more step, and he would have stood between his legs.

“You asked me what I would know about family. More than you think, as I have one myself.”

The wide blue eyes looked up to him, surprise piercing through the anguish in them.

“…A family? You?”

“A son. My pride, my joy, my greatest treasure. I had to leave him in my capital for his safety during this conquest.” a melancholic smile escaped him as he thought of the last time he had seen Junior: his son had been so proud to show him his new spells and had insisted to come along with him. It had broken his heart to refuse, but he had been firm in his decision.

“If anyone” he raised his fist and clenched hard enough to break stone, “anything, dared to take him away from me, I would tear this world apart from earth to sky and burn it to the ground to find him. I would sunder entire kingdoms before allowing anyone to even slow me down."

He let the hidden question hang in the air. A simple, innocent question with an answer that terrified the human to his very core.

Would your brother even do the same?

Maybe he would have been certain of the answer before. But here, now, after what he had just heard? He couldn’t trust it anymore. He was lost, away from the stability of his life, with nothing solid to stand on.

His head held low, his eyes hidden by his hair, the human’s shoulders started shaking. A choked sob escaped him, then another, and he covered his face in his hands as he wept, gasping for air between his tears.

Bowser held out his hand and, gently, wrapped it around the human’s back before pulling him closer. The human flinched but didn’t try to move away as Bowser rubbed his hand up and down his back, shushing softly through the whole time. Comforting. Safe.

His fingers moved to the man’s head, combing through his hair with the utmost care. It seemed to help soothing the man, his shaking slowly growing fainter, as well as his sobs. Finally, with a final sniffle, he pulled away and wiped at his eyes, Bowser’s massive hand still curled around his tiny body.

For the first time, Bowser noticed the dark bags under the human’s eyes, his haggard features, the dirt and sweat and tears all over his skin and clothes. Bowser’s thumb, almost as big as his captive’s head, pressed against his cheek, stroking it slowly.

“You’re exhausted.”

The human leaned into the touch, eyes half closed, giving the smallest nod.

“Yes.” He breathed out, so softly Bowser could barely hear it.

“I’ll have you brought to a more comfortable cell.”

“Why would you even do that?” The human murmured, closing his eyes completely and letting out a long, weary sigh. “I’ll be dead soon, won’t I?”

“What makes you think so?”

“You kept me alive because you wanted info about my brother. Now your spies know probably more about him than I do. I’m past being useful.”

He sounded too calm about it. Exhausted, yes, but most of all resigned. Taking what little comfort he thought he had left before his end, as if his tears had washed away his will to live.

Bowser tilted his head. Carefully, his thumb pressed under the human’s chin, pushing it up until he was facing him, his eyes still closed. Waiting for the claw to sink into his throat.

“Look at me.”

He obeyed, opening empty, defeated eyes that stared blankly at the king.

“Why should your worth always be tied to your brother?”

The human blinked from the unexpected answer. Bowser only smiled softly and moved his fingers to the scalp of the captive, returning to a gentle stroking of the soft hair, which lulled the human into closing his eyes again, this time with a relaxed sigh.

“I can’t wait for you to meet my Junior. He’s a very bright lad, very curious. He’ll have so many questions about your kind.”

Then, with the most gentleness he was able to muster, Bowser finally pulled his hand away, and for a moment the human followed the movement, before opening his eyes suddenly and stopping himself, but not before the king noticed it.

“Now leave. Take some rest.”

This time, the human hesitated before moving.

He finally turned and descended the stairs. Slowly, almost reluctantly; a bone-tired exhaustion in his steps, but for the first time since his arrival, he had stopped shaking in fear.

Bowser rested his elbow on the throne and his head on his fist, following his prisoner’s movements with a satisfied smirk.

The human would not break, but soon he would bend.

#super mario bros #mario movie #bowser #luigi #bowuigi #sort of ? in the loosest sense of the term #Bowser is not nice to Luigi here fair warning #Ista writes #my writing #my stuff #I don't care if everything about this is jossed in the movie it's an AU anyway #Bend or Break

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Francis Drake Main Story

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors.

The roaring sound of swirling waves, accompanied by the scent of blood, hangs in the air.

On the tumultuous sea, the Golden Hind, engaged in battle with enemy ships, tilted heavily.

Swords clashed and bullets flew on the ship's deck, while the faint light of the full moon, peeking through the clouds, illuminated the face of a man named Francis Drake.

Drake: "*pant* *pant* I'm thirsty."

Enemy 1: "Die, El Draque!"

One of the enemies rushed towards Drake as he panted like a man desperate for water in a desert and clawed at his throat.

Without even looking at him, Drake fired his gun into the enemy's abdomen and grabbed him by the collar.

Then...

Drake: "Guh! Aaah!"

He sank his fangs into the man's neck and drank his blood.

Crew Member 1: "C-Captain? What are you doing?"

Enemy 2: "He's drinking his blood! This guy is a real demon!!"

Crew Member 2: "He's a monster! Sir Drake is a monster!"

Not only the enemies but even his allies were shaken by this bizarre sight, and screams and shouts filled the air.

Enemy 2: "England keeps a bloodthirsty demon! Kill it! Kill the demon!"

In an instant, knives flashed, and those who were screaming fell one after another as Drake maneuvered through the enemies, tearing their lives apart.

Drake: "Hahaha! Who's next?"

Drake: "Come on, give me your blood."

The combination of vampirism and violence shattered his sanity, fueling his impulses. His maniacal grin intimidated friends and foes alike, and soon he found himself restrained, out of sight of others.

Queen: "Poor Drake, being feared and betrayed by your comrades as a demon and a monster."

Drake: "........."

Queen: "However, if we leave this as it is, it's only a matter of time before your true nature becomes known."

Queen: "Your abnormal ferocity on full moon nights, bloodlust, and your ageless appearance can no longer be hidden."

Queen: "Furthermore, some nobles intend to denounce you as a 'filthy monster that has infiltrated the royal family.'"

Queen Elizabeth, peering with pity from behind the iron bars, covered her face with a fan.

Queen: "Before you bring disgrace to yourself, I will bestow upon you an honorable death in recognition of your military achievements."

Queen: "Your execution will take place shortly."

Drake: "Execution?"

As the Queen walked away without turning back, Drake laughed mockingly.

Drake: "I hunted down enemy ships and vampires over and over again. Yet in the end, both my comrades and the Queen betrayed me."

Drake: "Is this really an honorable death?"

Drake: "Humans and vampires are both just trash! Hahaha!"

His mocking laughter echoed coldly through the prison.

The queen sat on the throne, her face devoid of all the pity she had shown Drake in the cell.

Queen: “Drake was too capable. It’s time to prevent this pirate-turned-monster from gaining any more power.”

Queen: “Prepare a lead coffin. After executing him and collecting his body, sink it into the sea.”

Advisor: “Your Majesty, such grand coffins are reserved only for the royal family. Isn’t it a bit too extravagant?”

With a cunning smile, the queen responded.

Queen: “He's a half-vampire. Let’s at least make his last moments presentable.”

Queen: “His being immortal will only complicate things. Besides, he should be able to sleep peacefully if we sink him deep into the sea within a heavy lead coffin.”

On the day when Francis Drake’s execution was planned secretly as a cover-up for his death from illness, a soldier brought urgent news.

Soldier: “He escaped! Lord Drake has taken back his weapons and escaped!”

Having escaped from the cell and retrieved his confiscated gun and knife, Drake reached the cliff after killing the soldiers who were chasing after him.

Below the cliff, the waves roared as if bellowing in fury.

Soldier: “This is as far as you go, Francis Drake. By order of Queen Elizabeth, we will carry out your execution!”

Drake turned to face the soldier with clear, unfathomable eyes.

Drake: “Alright.”

Drake: “It doesn’t matter which side I was on since I never had a place to belong, anyway.”

Drake: “As far as I’m concerned, humans and vampires are fundamentally the same.”

Drake: “They’re all just a bundle of selfish shit once you strip away their facades.”

Drake: “They’ll hate and destroy each other, eventually heading towards their own ruin. So if that’s the case...”

With a look of resignation in his eyes and the soldiers watching, he soared through the air and jumped off the cliff.

Drake: “I don’t believe in anything anymore.”

Drake: “I’ll wander these endless seas and watch the destruction of the world.”

With a defiant smile, he fell into the dark sea.

Mitsuki: “...........”

I returned to the hallway and fell to my knees, shocked.

(This is his past.)

I continued to wander through various eras and follow his life story, like a spectator in a movie, unable to run towards or comfort him in any painful moment.

(He was persecuted for being born a dhampir by vampires and humans alike.)

(I finally understood the reason behind his occasional freezing coldness.)

While wearing a mask of a smile, he despised both humans and vampires behind it.

He hated this world where he was hunted, used, betrayed, and couldn't trust anything.

Like a sailor forever wandering the seas, cursing and wishing for destruction.

(This is the real Drake.)

(But...)

I tightly clenched my hand.

No matter how much he hated vampires and humans, he shouldn't have harmed anyone in the mansion. Having had a tragic past didn't justify what he had done.

(Sympathizing with him would be betraying everyone in the mansion.)

(And besides, he probably doesn't want any sympathy either.)

------------Flashback-----------

Drake: "Mitsuki, if I betray you, don't hesitate to pull the trigger."

Drake: "The moment you hesitate, I will take everything from you until your body, heart, and destiny are shattered."

Drake: "Mitsuki."

Drake: "Remember what I told you to do when I betrayed you."

---------Flashback Ends--------

(As for what I should do about his betrayal...)

I reached for my waist and touched the item tucked into the waistband of my skirt.

The gun entrusted to me by Drake was shining and radiating a heavy presence.

(He said I need to pull the trigger when I find him.)

(I don't know. Shooting him is just...)

(I don't even know if this feeling towards him is anger or something else.)

(What on earth should I do? What do I really want?)

"In my opinion, living in a way that goes against your own wishes is the real betrayal."

(----!)

Even in a time like this, the words he said echoed in my heart as a response to my internal questioning.

(That's right. How to respond to Drake's betrayal is up to me.)

Whether to pull the trigger to settle the betrayal as he suggested or...

(I want to see him.)

I put strength into my legs and stood up.

(If I don't meet him, nothing will happen.)

Mitsuki: "I want to go to where you are."

I strongly wished as I gazed straight ahead at the end of the dark hallway.

A bright light then enveloped me, the undulation of the waves shaking my eardrums.

I slowly opened my eyes and saw the sea spread out before me.

(I recognize this place.)

This was definitely where he jumped off while being chased by the soldiers.

And then, as if waiting for me, I found him standing at the edge of the cliff, his cape fluttering in the wind.

Mitsuki: "Drake."

Drake: "........"

Drake: "I knew you’d come, Mitsuki."

(He can still smile so casually, even at a time like this.)

His smile, which I had grown to love over time, made my heart clench.

Drake: "I have to be honest; I'm surprised you made it this far."

Mitsuki: "I went to that building where you bit me and found the door."

Mitsuki: "It was slightly ajar, so I thought you were waiting for me beyond it."

Mitsuki: "I chased after you because I wanted to see you."

He looked at me with a faintly surprised expression and then burst out laughing.

Drake: "Hahaha! The door to that hideout was open, huh? You really have luck on your side."

Drake: "You truly are a woman of destiny."

The sea breeze blew between us as we gazed at each other, maintaining our distance.

Mitsuki: "Drake, I saw your past before coming here. From when you were young to the moment you jumped off this cliff."

Mitsuki: "It was all very painful."

Drake: "Heh, I see. But don't always be so kindhearted and sympathetic, lil' fawn."

His words felt like a sharp knife.

We were, after all, in a relationship of betrayal and being betrayed.

Drake: "Since we're at it, let me tell you about what happened after I jumped off this cliff."

With those words, Drake cast his gaze to the sea.

Drake: "After that, I met a man named Galileo."

Mitsuki: "What? Galileo, as in the famous one?"

Drake: "Yeah. He and I were facing similar circumstances."

Drake: "He used the door for his own wishes."

(I can't believe other famous people have traveled through it.)

At that moment, the image of a certain person he was with came to mind.

(Could that person be...?)

Drake: "I met Galileo and also saw the future by going through the door. What I found there was complete devastation."

(.......)

Drake: "It felt good. I realized that this world, tainted by hatred, would lead to destruction even if left alone."

Drake: "Both humans and vampires will disappear completely, just like I wanted."

Drake: "But then something strange happened. Fate diverged, and multiple futures were born."

Drake: "There were futures where a war broke out, humans killed each other, and humans and vampires clashed, fighting for the top of the food chain."

Drake: "I even saw a future in which nature was destroyed, leaving everyone with no place to live."

Drake: "All of them were interestingly disastrous outcomes."

Drake: "And what caused this branching future was the 19th century."

Mitsuki: "That was when everyone was revived as vampires."

He smiled deeper before answering.

Drake: "That's right. They willingly became vampires to revive themselves."

Drake: "They lived their second lives without a care in the world, not even realizing they were spreading harm."

Mitsuki: "I don't understand how everyone can be the cause. Maybe you're just convincing yourself of that."

Drake: "Those guys are renowned figures in history. Let a talented person get a taste of immortality and see what happens."

Drake: "The influence they have on humans and the world is immeasurable. In fact, fate is starting to distort around them."

Drake: "Well, I found the aftermath of all that destruction quite amusing."

Despite the serious topic, Drake wore a grin on his face.

Drake: "The existence of vampires gives rise to seeds of persecution, and resurrected vampires bring about destruction."

Drake: "No matter what, all they do is bring harm to the world."

Drake: "It's funny, isn't it? What purpose were vampires even born for?"

(Drake…)

Drake's sarcastic remark about vampires was probably filled with irony.

However, considering his harsh life and the betrayals that have shattered his heart, the words "What purpose were vampires even born for?" feel like a blade aimed at himself.

Mitsuki: "No matter what you say, I don't think that way."

(He and I have had our differences before.)

(To him, vampires are evil, but to me they're not.)

Mitsuki: "Everyone, even Vlad and the others, are trying their best to live with their own wishes in their hearts."

Mitsuki: "They're using their talents and way of life to inspire and make those around them happy."

Mitsuki: "You're the same. You've made me smile a lot."

Drake: "........."

Mitsuki: "I know that there are vampires who have treated you harshly. But that doesn't mean that all vampires are inherently evil."

Not wanting to deny my loved ones and him, I continued with my words.

Mitsuki: "Besides, even if the existence of historical figures can influence destiny, it doesn't necessarily mean that the future will always be one of destruction. If we hold on to hope and believe, the future may change differently."

Drake: "Ahh..."

Drake: "Having you by my side has surely changed my fate."

Seeming somewhat frustrated, he swept his bangs aside and pointed the tip of the knife he had drawn towards me.

Mitsuki: "Drake?"

Drake: "Vampires distort destiny. They lead towards the destruction I desire."

Drake: "That's why I wanted to watch over their messed-up destiny. And yet Mitsuki..."

Drake: "Somehow, when you're involved, all the messes that lead to destruction seem to disappear."

His eyes, piercing through me, were sharper than the knife.

Drake: "I have no use for vampires and people who bring no ruin. I thought about getting rid of all of them at once."

Drake: "Especially you, Mitsuki."

(His eyes are cold.)

His eyes were like a clear water surface, yet deep within them lurked a pitch-black abyss.

So deep and dark that it seemed no light could ever reach it.

Drake: "I want this world to end—a world filled with hatred, killing, and not worth believing in."

Drake: "But you're the woman of destiny. You're the woman who stands in the way of the destruction I desire."

Drake: "That's why I'm going to kill you."

Mitsuki: "........."

I felt like I couldn't breathe. The feelings directed at me pierced my heart sharply and deeply.

(This can't be happening.)

I'm just a human; I can't believe I'm influencing fate.

Moreover, deceiving everyone for a purpose and attempting to harm them simply because they don't fit your desires is just too much.

(But why? Why do I feel sad instead of angry after he said he'd kill me?)

(Why do I still love him?)

Like the shore of a calm sea, he nestled in my heart, making me fall in love. Yet, like a raging storm, he began to destroy my precious feelings.

I love him deeply, even though he's a terrible person.

The once-vibrant love swirls uncontrollably, tormenting me beyond measure.

(Drake betrayed me.)

(He tried to hurt my loved ones.)

(If he wants to kill me, then I...)

In my hand was a gun loaded with a single bullet.

Clutching the entrusted destiny, I aimed the muzzle at him.

Previous Part ╎ Masterlist ╎ Premium

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp drake #ikevamp francis #ikevamp jp #ikevamp translations #francis drake #cybird

[winter-soldier-101]

You are not her! Part 9 sneak peek

Word count:472

“(Y/N) are you sure he did this?” Harwin asks.

“Yes Harwin, Larys tried to kill you along with your father” (Y/N) tells him.

(Y/N) and Harwin make their way to the throne room and tell Rhaenyra everything.

“My Queen, I have information about the fire at Harrenhal” (Y/N) tells Rhaenyra.

“I know who started the fire and why they did it” (Y/N) says looking at Larys and Alicent.

“Larys Strong had prisoners from the black cells swear they would do as he wishes and they would be free as they say yes to him he had their tongues cut out he did it to have the favor of former Queen Alicent and he would be Lord of Harrenhal” (Y/N) tells Rhaenyra as she has her men bring the men who started the fire.

“Bring him here now” Rhaenyra tells the guards.

“Is it true?” Harwin asks Larys.

“Yes it’s true do you think you truly deserve Harrenhal or to be Lord of anything you fathered bastards and father knew and was going to let you be Lord of Harrenhal no I had these men follow you and start the fire to kill you and father but no this cunt had to save you” Larys yells out.

“I dreamt of the fire I saw what would have happened if I didn’t save your brother and father but I was too late. I couldn't save your father but I did save your brother and I kept him hidden and safe” (Y/N) tells Larys.

Harwin walks over to Larys and starts to punch him as he begs Harwin to stop but Harwin keeps hitting him till he stops breathing.

“You knew what he did and did nothing” Rhaenyra yells at Alicent.

“I…. I did not know what to do when he told me?” Alicent says with tears in her eyes.

“Rhaenyra” (Y/N) calls out.

“What (Y/N)” Rhaenyra says as she walks to you.

(Y/N) pulls Rhaenyra to the side.

“She didn’t tell anyone because she was scared of what he would do to her or our siblings or her grandchildren that’s why she didn’t say anything” (Y/N) tells Rhaenyra.

“Then what should I do with her?” Rhaenyra asks you.

“You can confine her to her room and only allow her to certain areas or send her back to Old Town and tell her she can never come back to King's Landing” (Y/N) tells Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra and (Y/N) walk back to everyone.

“Alicent Hightower I give you two choices: you can stay here and be confined to your room and only allowed to certain places in the castle or you can go back to Old Town and never come back and if you step foot back here you will burn” Rhaenyra tells Alicent.

#daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x y/n

[ladywatereton]

The Prisoner's Throne, Holly Black Sneak Peek Reveal:

🇧🇷 Jude apenas dá ao irmão um sorriso sombrio.

— Bem, então que oportunidade maravilhosa para você provar sua lealdade e morrer.

🇬🇧 Jude only gives her brother a grim smile.

“Well then what a onderful opportunity for you to prove your loyalty and die.”

✍🏻 Via HotKeyBooks on "TikTok."

#ladywatereton #quotes #books #spooky season #holly black #the prisoner's throne #the stolen heir #cardan greenbriar #wren x oak #oak greenbriar #the queen of nothing #the cruel prince #the wicked king #jude duarte #jude x cardan #cardan x jude #how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories #the darkest part of the forest #tithe #valiant #a modern faerie tale #ironside #the modern faerie tales #sneak peek #halloween #cottagecore #fairycore #the folk of the air #jurdan #mellith

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

ʚ Pairing:  Melkor x Fem. Reader

ʚ Summary : You were taken as a prisoner of war after you left your father’s camp. You’re treated well, but you complain about your captor, and he hears of it. You’re taken to him, and you finally see him for the first time since your capture. 

ʚ Themes: Soft | Slow burn | Smut

ʚ Warnings: Explicit content of a sexual nature | Coarse language | Kissing | Nicknames | Fingering |  Odaxelagnia | Penetrative Sex

Minors DNI

The gale had hit the land without warning.

Wind and water hammered at stone like an angry beast, as if demanding entry. You peeked through the bars of your window. The world outside was all slate grey mist and curtains of rain, the sheer gloominess of it all broken by bright flashes of lightning. You looked about your room again.

A pitiful fire burned in the hearth, the air around you cold and damp. The stone windows had been cannily cut, letting in the fresh air, but no rain. It was a blessing, you thought. Bad enough you were held captive in this dreary place, you didn’t need a rain-washed room on top of everything else.

The door being thrown open made you jump out of your skin. “The master orders your presence.” One of your orc jailors comes forth and slaps on a pair of shackles around your wrists. A thick chain connected to it, allowing them to keep a safe distance from prisoners. “Come.”

You sighed, and your shoulders drooped. You knew why he wanted to see you.

During the past few days of your captivity, you had complained about your captor, insulting him at every turn. One of his minions had clearly heard and now you were neck-deep in trouble.

There was a tug on the chain. Your jailors were quite impatient to get going. “Come along, we haven’t got all day!”

“Oh all right,” you mutter and shuffle your feet.

The walk was long, and tiring, taking you through one gloomy corridor over to the next. The passageways were dark, and even the torches proved to be of little use. What is this stone, you muse, as you follow along. The walls were made of a black stone, polished to a high sheen. They seemed to absorb the very light around them, making everything gloomier than it was.

It certainly suits him well enough. 

There was another tug on the chain. “Hurry up!”

What kind of trouble have I gotten myself into now? 

You’re made to walk until all of you stop in front of doors as black as the walls surrounding it, and more than twice the height of the tallest elf you had seen. Impressive, you think, as your eyes drift upwards, to the high, vaulted ceilings, barely visible in the torchlight. You catch signs of what looked like intricate scrollwork. 

I wonder what this place would look like with moonlight streaming in through the windows. Or sunlight. Does he tolerate sunlight?

The doors were pulled back with barely a sound. One of the orcs looked back to see where you were. “Come along now! The master hasn’t got all day!” 

“Fine,” you mutter, and follow them to what was starting to look like a throne room. A thick carpet ran under your feet, muffling your footsteps. There were more torches, their light somewhat succeeding in pushing back the darkness. You thought you would be taken right up to the throne, but the orcs made a sudden turn to the right, to a passageway leading beyond the throne room. 

Where are they taking me?

This time the walk didn’t talk nearly as long, and the rooms you were shown into were airier and had more light. 

And that was when you felt, more than saw him. A sense of gathering darkness, the sudden chill in the air. One of the orcs stepped forward, bowed, and said, “The prisoner, my lord.”

 “Bring her closer.”

His voice was rich, like a deep red wine, and sweet, like honey. You shook your head in disbelief. This cannot be possible.

You were taken into another room, this time a large parlour of sorts. The fire that burned here was bright and warm, with a heavy brocade, high-back sofa pulled in front of it. You heard wood creaking, of leather crinkling, as if someone had just moved. He’s here. Seated on that sofa. 

“Unshackle her,” came the order, sharp and quick. “And leave us. We’re not to be disturbed.”

You gulped as the orcs looked almost apologetic when they released you. They scurried away quickly enough, probably to get out of the line of fire.

Lucky bastards. 

He only waited till the door to his rooms was shut. “Come here.”

You take a few inches forward.

“Here.” A gloved finger tapped the right armrest. “And do not make me repeat myself.”

I’mdoomedI’mdoomedI’mdoomedI’mdoomed.

The words echoed again and again.

You steel yourself, raise your head high, and walk right up to the sofa, flinching a little when the sofa creaked again. This time, he had stretched his legs, his eyes never leaving the fire. “So.” He waited till you stopped right by him, your eyes facing forward, not wanting to take in what was sure to be a withered and disfigured countenance. “You’re our prisoner.”

“Yes,” you quickly correct yourself when you heard a sharp cough. “My lord.”

“And you have been complaining. About me. And very colourful, I might add.” You kept your eyes forward, although the scent coming off of him made it next to impossible to do so. Night phlox in full bloom, you thought immediately. Night phlox, your favourite flower.

You shook your head again. No. This cannot be possible.

“My orcs tell me your words could make the most hardened corsair blush. Naturally, I needed to know the cause for such ire.” He leaned forward, to get a better look at you. You kept your gaze on the fire the entire time.

“Look at me, pet.”

Pet? He calls me pet? Fury took over you. Fury threatened to boil over, made you want to grab the nearest weapon and lunge at him, to try and kill him. Even if you failed, you could still go down in a blaze of glory.

Then you rest your eyes on him. Fury vanished as quickly as it came, while you struggled to stop yourself from gaping.

The very shock of his beauty took your breath away. His skin glowed and his hair was as black as a raven’s wing. His eyes were black to the centre, with gold irises that gleamed and radiated power. You expected someone repulsive and vile, yet here he was, tall and strapping, sharp-jawed and fairer than any creature you had ever beheld. A hum escaped your throat.

This is him? The one they all call Melkor?

Melkor leaned back into the sofa, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Tell me, pet. What is it about me that displeases you so?"

"You’re keeping me prisoner here. Is that not enough of a reason?" You lower your gaze and stop yourself from gawking. What was it about that devilish smirk that made your heart race? "I want to go home."

"Send you home? And why must I do that?" Melkor murmured as he went back to looking at the fire, his smirk slowly growing into a grin. "You are a prisoner of war, and it is custom to keep hostages till a suitable ransom has been paid. That is what your kind does, yes?"

He had you there. "Yes, mortals do keep captives hostage, but--"

“Then how am I any different?” He said. “And I have treated you well, yes?”

“Yes, but--”

“Then you will stay here until your lord father has paid your ransom. If he pays, that is.”

“No, I will--”

“Arguing is useless, pet.” He folded his arms behind his head and studied you. “You are my prisoner, and you must do as I bid.”

You narrowed your eyes to slits, while he simply arched an elegant eyebrow and smirked. “Do not fear, my pet.” Melkor crooned, his eyes on you the entire time. “I will not bite, not unless you want me to, that is.”

“Bite me?” You squeak. “I would want you to bite me?”

“Why yes.” Melkor crooned again, his eyes closed, his mind going over the memories of you getting off your horse, your cheeks flushed from the long and dusty ride to his fortress. By all rights, he should have just dismissed your presence, and yet, the sight of you in the courtyard, breathless and nervous, more than just a tad angry, roused his curiosity, made his skin warm, made him want. Seeing you being taken on rounds around the fortress courtyard didn’t help matters. It made him want a great deal, kept him up at night, and plague him with dreams of you. Dreams that left him breathless and wanting more than just the fantasies of his mind. 

Melkor gave nothing away. He kept his tone perfectly calm, not wanting to do anything rash and scare you off. “I hear some people like it being done to them when sharing pleasures.”

Now your cheeks burned. Why did it thrill you, to hear him talk of pleasures?

Wait, can he even feel pleasure?

“I can feel pleasure, pet,” Melkor said quietly, making you jump, and curse yourself. What was supposed to have been just a thought was said out loud enough for him to hear. “And in many ways.” He turned to you, eyes locked on yours the entire time. He slipped off his gloves and tossed them to the side. “I could show you now if you like.”

Your cheeks burned again, and this time they turned several shades of red. You catch Melkor’s eyes going over your body before they flicked back up to yours. He was incapable of feeling passion and desire, all the myths and tales said so, but that look in his eyes… it left you a little breathless. Goosebumps spread over your arms when a large hand reached out and velvet-like fingers traced their way down your own. Melkor’s touch should have felt like ice, but it was warm instead. Visions filled your head, parts nightmare, parts dream. The nightmare was of him using that hand of his to strangle you, to make you beg for your life. The dream was of him using that same hand to make you beg for other things while he hovered over you. His fingers laced around yours, his thumb brushing over your skin. You felt a flush of heat and trembled when dream beat back nightmare.

You flushed again, this time when a drop of pleasure took root. It must have shown on your face, for Melkor tightened his grip and made your breath hitch. "My lap." He ordered. “Pet.

You squirm, unsure if you should comply or not. "Go on," he ordered again, gently this time.

You find yourself wanting to say yes. Instead, you force yourself to refuse with, "No."

He grinned. "Are you sure, pet?"

The opposite of it. You wanted to say yes to him, to a fallen Vala. It would be scandalous if word got out. You would not hear the end of it when you got home. You would be ostracized for even associating with one such as him, and still, the need for him grew. 

When I go home. You hummed when his eyes drifted over your body again, drinking you in, leaving you weak and spellbound. Wait. Do I even want to go home?

You quickly lowered your gaze and shook your head. No. He will not see it. He will not see it. 

He did see it, just before you looked away. "Aww," he crooned again. "Are you positive, pet?"

Why did he keep calling you pet? And why did you like it so? Then there was that dream again, of him putting his hand to better use. You wanted to say, No. What you end up saying was, "Yes."

“Your lips say one thing, my pet, but your eyes say something else.” Melkor chuckled. “As does that ragged breathing of yours.” You winced, utterly embarrassed with yourself, at your body for giving yourself away. "On my lap, pet." There was a gentle tug on your hand. "You know you want to."

That drop of pleasure only grew. Comply you finally did, and very willingly. Melkor groaned when you straddled him and made yourself comfortable. The need to make his night-time fantasies a reality grew stronger with each passing second. "Is this what you wanted?" You asked haltingly, your eyes skimming over his chest plate, all ornately decorated and broad. Was the body beneath it as broad as well?

While one hand rested on your waist, the other found its way to your hair. "Not exactly," Melkor groaned again when you squirmed to make yourself more comfortable. He could already feel his trousers straining, his pulse racing. Lust was hammering away at him and he had to get things going, and quickly. Despite his order, someone could still barge in at a moment’s notice. "But it is a start."

A start? Why would he say such a-- That’s when you felt it. His cock was already hard. You licked your lips, anticipation building up inside you. "A start to what, my lord?"

Melkor simply smiled and twirled his fingers through your hair, the gold of his irises gleaming even more now. "You will see, pet. But first, my armour has to go. It will only get in the way."

Undoing the straps and cords was easy. Taking off his armguards was easy, but removing the chest plate itself was not. It felt like it weighed a ton, but when Melkor took over, he made it look like it was about as heavy as a feather. The under-tunic was next, leaving his chest bare. "Do you like what you see?" He asked.

His chest was as broad as you thought it would be, and he was right.

You very much liked what you saw. His was a body without flaw, his muscles sculpted, their perfection broken only by the strange yet beautiful symbols and ancient texts all over his skin. You think to yourself, This one has Vala written all over him. 

Your cheeks flushed again, much to Melkor’s delight. "It is quite enchanting," he murmured slowly. "The way you blush. I should find ways to make it happen more often."

What’s going on? This was Melkor talking like this? It was all very unseemly, and you grew suspicious. "Is this a trick, my lord?"

He chuckled and shook his head, one arm sneaking around your waist while the other gripped your chin. Melkor wasn’t playing games. He wanted you. "No tricks pet. Especially this."

He pulled you in, kissing you hard on the lips and drawing out a soft purr. His kisses were sweet and exuberant, his mouth was one to savour. Pleasure hummed in your throat when his tongue licked past your parted lips. Feeling your very breath being sucked right out of you made you dizzy, and you braced yourself against his chest to keep steady. His own breath came out warm and felt so sweet. When your hands splayed over his skin, Melkor growled into his kiss, his hands going to the hem of your skirt to hike it up.

A blast of cold air against your exposed thighs made you shiver. "Here." He leaned to the side and picked up his mantle, throwing it over your shoulders to keep you warm. It was of thick velvet, and nothing in the world felt finer to you. You didn’t have time to thank him as he crushed your lips with his again, making you whimper when his fingers raked their way up your thigh. Your skin felt soft to him and his hand went up higher, not stopping until he reached your undergarments, tearing them easily so he could feel your slick heat. "Already wet for me." He chuckled breathily, his grin growing when he heard a soft cry while he played with your wet clit. When you moaned and ground yourself into his hand, he grunted and pushed a finger inside, going as deep as he could, and then--

"I am not your first, am I?"

Your trysts with a stable hand in your father’s employ, one you knew would keep your secrets. Well, your secrets were out now. “You’re not.” You mumble and stare into your lap. “I-I hope you’re not disappointed.”

Melkor simply shook his head. “I’m not disappointed. Not in the least.” He relished your gasps as he kept thrusting, his finger hitting a sweet spot of yours, again and again. "Come here." 

Every time you moaned, every time you asked for more, Melkor would croon, “That’s it my pet, beg for it,” and not let up until he felt your walls clench and tighten around his finger. Your thighs trembled as you met his thrusts halfway, earning a growl of approval from him. You could feel your muscles coiling, your world growing hazy. Melkor was far from satisfied. His body craved more. You whined when he pulled his finger out and wiped it against his cloak. "My trousers," he said and bit your lower lip, making sure to leave it swollen and bruised. "Undo it, pet. Now."

His belt came apart easily enough, and you quickly undid the clasps, pulling at the material frantically and reaching inside. When you stroked and caressed his cock, his hips rose slightly and his breathing became shaky and frantic, his head rolling back, his mouth half-open, moaning deeply when you found a rhythm he liked. You felt like you were throbbing between your thighs. Lust got the better of you and you moved again, this time not stopping till his cock was inside of you. Wanting to feel the warmth of your cunt, Melkor gripped onto your hips and plunged hard, something that made you cry out and arch your back. He scrambled to pull your hair to one side, his teeth mouth latching onto the soft flesh of your neck. Melkor didn’t wait this time. He started with quick, shallow thrusts, his teeth scraping over delicate skin every time you moaned and pulled on his thick black hair. He pulled away and looked into your eyes. It felt like you were gazing at molten gold against black velvet. "Did that pathetic male make you feel like this, hmm, pet?" A flash of jealousy washed over him. Melkor had a problem with sharing, and he didn’t want to share you with anyone else, not even in memory. "All hot and wet and needy?"

Every time his teeth scraped over the crook of your neck, your tugs on his hair grew rougher, which encouraged him even more. "No, my lord," you choked, trying to hold on for as long as you could. You wanted to cum at the same time he did. "He didn’t make me feel like this."

He ran his tongue over bruised skin, taking in the beads of sweat that had formed along the way before nipping again.  "Did he fuck you like this, pet?" He mumbled against your neck. "Take you to the point where you could forget your own name?"

Not even close. "He didn’t.” you purred when his thrusts deepened, leaving you empty one second and so full the next. Your breath came out in shallow pants every time he filled you. “He never could."

"Good." Melkor hummed when you moaned when he found that sweet spot again. "Your moans are like music to my ears, pet," he whispered and bit on the crook of your neck. "Please let me hear more."

You stopped caring at this point. Every time his hips slammed into you, every time his cock hit that spot deep within you, you cried out, your muscles tightening like a coil with each passing second. When your chest pressed against his, he slammed into you harder, and faster, sending shockwave after shockwave over you, sending you tumbling over the edge. Your body went still for the briefest of moments before it splintered completely. Your cries echoed through the room while he continued to fuck you. Melkor didn’t stop until he felt his cock throb and tense inside you. With a deep grunt, he thrust one final time before his body snapped, and his seed spilt out into your cunt. He refused to let go until he was completely spent.

You could feel his breath on your shoulder. You became aware of soft kisses gliding over your skin. "My pet," he tilted your chin and pressed his lips to yours. This time there was tenderness and warmth, instead of just raw passion. “Do you still want to go home?”

“But I’m your prisoner,” you say. It was the truth. Despite what just happened, you were still a prisoner of Utumno. 

He made an offer he would never give to anyone else, not unless Eru forced him to do. “What if you’re no longer a prisoner, my pet, what then? Will you still stay here and be my companion?”

His companion. No Vala, not even him, could make such an offer and take it back. If he swore the oath, he’d be bound to you. “Swear it,” you insist. If you were going to stay, it would have to be worth your while. “Swear the oath, and I will stay.”

Melkor went quiet, and you thought he’d changed his mind, just like you suspected he would.

He then surprised you with what he did next.

With one of his own fingernails, he scraped an X right over his heart, said the words. The scar gleamed for a second, then faded into a thin pink line. “So, little pet,” He looked at you again, hopeful this time. “Will you stay?”

You gave him his answer. Melkor was pleased. “Now, go get in bed,” he gestured to a room to your right. “I’m not done with you as yet.”

#melkor #melkor smut #melkor x reader #melkor imagine #LOTR #the silmarillion #fanfiction #creative writing #writing #writeblr #am writing #a world of whimsy writes #smut-tober #morgoth #morgoth smut #morgoth x reader #kinktober

[jamcarven]

heyy i show your posts on the prisoner's throne... i absolutely adore that series and tfota series i really want to read this book can you please link from where did you read tpt... it will take a lot of time to be released in my country.. please

oh i haven’t read the prisoner’s throne yet, that was just a sneak peak of the prologue that was released a while ago.

Here's the prologue:

And here are the first 3 chapters:

I haven't read anymore than that but hopefully you can read this in the meantime :)

#the prisoner's throne #oak x wren #oak x suren #oak greenbriar #the folk of the air #tfota #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #jurdan #the cruel prince #the stolen heir #the wicked king

[ezziefae]

Part 1 !!

New Prisoners Throne Sneak Peeks

Holly Black gave us some quote snippets from her upcoming book Prisoners Throne on a tik tok from a book company and NO ONE IS TALKING ABOUT IT !!

@hotkeybooks on tik tok

Jude only gives her brother a grim smile.

“we’ll then what a wonderful opportunity for you to prove your loyalty and die.”

(Prisoners Throne Snippet 2024)

-

“Oak can feel the sharp edges of her nails as they dig into his neck. He shivers with the sensation. He doesn’t want careful anymore than safe.”

(Prisoners Throne Snippet 2024)

—

ARE U KIIDDDING MEEE??!!! JUDE IN HER EVIL ERA???? AND POOR OAK BEING ABUSED AND HURT???!!!! CAN MARCH 2024 GET HERE ANY FASTER PLEASE???

#jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #holly black #the folk of the air #the stolen heir #jurdan #oak greenbriar #the cruel prince #elfhame #the prisoners throne #HOLLY BLACK GIVE US MORE #Wren #Courth of teeth

[deathsweetblossoms]

PRISONERS THRONE CHAPTER 3 JUST DROPPED!!!!

As his calves strike the frozen floor, he understands, in a way that he never has before, Wren’s horror of the bridle. Jude’s need for control. He has never known this kind of helplessness.

#the folk of the air #holly black #oak greenbriar #oh my fucking god #the stolen heir #the prisoners throne #queen Suren #Cardan greenbriar #Jurdan #Jude duarte

[scientistservant]

Freedom and Forgiveness (Hiss/King Richard) - 18+

Imagine living like a king someday A single night without a ghost in the walls…

Sir Hiss didn’t realize how much he missed being respected.

Until he felt the metal shackle become loose around his neck.

Until he felt the sun against his coils again.

Until King Richard set him free.

The lion-hearted King of England was the only thing Hiss could pay attention to as he was led out of the prison doors.

Not the pathetic pleas of Prince John, yelling at Hiss through the barred window to “get back here, get back here now, you stupid snake,” as if he had any authority on the matter.

Not the Sheriff of Nottingham grumbling in his familiar southern drawl and telling PJ to shut his mouth, or “the guards’ll shut it” for him.

Not the bluebirds singing their songs about the treetops, or Mrs. Rabbit’s children playing and laughing near their home.

Richard’s low, kingly voice penetrated Hiss’ ears, and though the lion was speaking to vultures Nutsy and Trigger — Hiss could hear the phrases “shouldn’t have been more than a day”, and “good behaviour” — the snake couldn’t help but stare.

Richard’s body was great, powerful. A stark contrast from his scrawny, childish brother. He had to lean over to even reach the prison agreement, and his paws practically engulfed the quill used to sign the form.

“Everything is accounted for, Your Highness,” said Trigger, after looking over the form.

“Excellent,” Richard replied. He turned his attention to the newly-released snake, “Hiss.”

Hiss answered with a quiet yet stammering, “Y-Yesss, Sire,” and the two took their leave back to Nottingham castle.

•~+~•

Hiss hadn’t been in the castle walls since the night Robin Hood took John’s gold and planned the prison break. The banners that had burned away hadn’t been replaced, leaving some of the walls naked and bare. Even his sleeping cap was gone — having been lost to the flames during the snake’s escape from both the burning castle and John’s maddening tantrum.

The throne room was one of many rooms spared from the fire, and as Hiss watched Richard sit upon the throne, he knew the lion-hearted was the rightful king. His throne, his crown, his castle, his England. Not John’s. Never John’s.

Richard motioned Hiss closer, “Come, Hiss.”

The snake squeaked out a response, “Oh, Sire,” and slithered up to the king. “You have no idea how much you were misssssed…” he moved to kiss a paw, only for Richard to pull it away.

“S-S-Sire?”

“You know I knighted you many years ago, don’t you, Hiss?”

“Of course, Sire.”

“And made you my advisor and confidant?”

“S-Certainly, Sire.”

Richard paused, leaning back against his throne. The lion’s normally kind, mirthful eyes were stern, and his large, imposing form seemed to make Hiss much smaller than he already was.

“I need to be able to trust you again, Hiss.”

“Trust?” The snake blinked, and his eyes went wide, “b-but Sire, you already let me out of prison — what else must you need? We’ve been companions for years, decades!”

Hiss placed his tail against Richard’s lap in a compassionate gesture, nodding to himself as he recounted what was said to him many times,

“You were the one who asked me to look after John, remember? You told me, i-if you were to ever leave the country, to look after John. Not his mother, not your wife—”

The lion raised a paw to speak, and Hiss flinched, lifting his coils around and over his head to defend himself.

Richard stared, seeing the fear in the snake’s eyes, and immediately lowered his paw. Hiss had never flinched around him, much less ever think to shield himself.

Whatever did John do to him?

“Hiss,” Richard cleared his throat, and made an attempt to soften his voice.

“S-Sire…?” The snake peeked out from under his coils. The lion’s softer tone caused a shiver to run down Hiss’ back.

“You are to go to Leeds on a diplomatic mission.”

“Leeds, Sire?”

“Indeed. Winter is drawing near, and the city is a large manufacture in cloth and wool; it would be beneficial to both Leeds and Nottingham if we were to establish trade. Go there, tell the monarch that we wish to trade, on my request…”

Richard gave Hiss a stern look, “…and you will be at my side again.”

Hiss bowed his head, “Yes, Sire.”

“Very good,” said Richard. He got to his feet, “You are to leave tomorrow.”

Hiss raised his head. “Tomorrow?” he squeaked. The sky was a warm orange outside.

“Is there a problem, Hiss?” The lion looked over his shoulder at the snake, powerful and imposing.

Hiss swallowed audibly, “No, Sire! I-It’s just — Leeds is rather cold at this time of year, and… Oh, Sire…”

He bit his tongue and hesitatingly slithered closer to his king, tail against Richard’s leg, gently, sweetly. Imagining being held in his strong, warm embrace again was painful.

“P-Pleas-s-se… please, one last time…”

Richard’s eyes shifted to the castle floor. How long had it been since the two of them lay together? He looked into Hiss’ gaze, and saw the snake’s raw, pleading stare. Hiss was serious.

Richard sighed. He turned to fully face the meek reptile in front of him. Without a word the king took Hiss’ tail in a paw, leading the snake up to his shoulder. The simple gesture caused Hiss to shudder into Richard’s neck, as they made their way up the stone stairs.

•~+~•

King Richard’s bedchamber looked, for an extremely brief moment, to be rather bare without the piles upon piles of gold his younger brother had collected. That all had been replaced with several candelabras and new balcony curtains.

The candles were lit, bathing the room with warmth and a soft glow.

Richard gently set Hiss down upon the bed, and the snake gave a whimper as his back touched the sheets, looking up at his king in utter adoration.

“Shhh…” The lion soothed Hiss with a gentle stroke to his face, paws soft as ever.

Richard rose from the bed, and began removing his clothes, the soft candlelight accentuating the muscles throughout his body. His royal attire lay at the foot of the bed, all except Richard’s crown, which he set, gently, upon a nearby dresser.

The bed creaked as the king placed himself over Hiss again, causing the snake to shiver against Richard’s naked form.

“Sire,” Hiss raised his head to kiss his king’s lips, which Richard welcomed graciously. “My Sire…” Every compliment under the sun left Hiss’ tongue between kisses and pleas, and Richard responded to each kiss with his own, warm and deep, while his strong paws explored the snake’s coils.

Hiss’ tail weaved between the lion’s fingers and traveled down to the large organ between Richard’s legs. He teased the tip with slow, circular motions, before wrapping around the base and giving a few strokes, causing Richard to groan in response.

“May I, Sire…?” asked Hiss, staring up at Richard, love in his eyes. The lion’s cock twitched in response, and Hiss gave it a curious glance, “Oh!” After looking up at his king once more to confirm, the snake descended upon the throbbing organ, teasing the tip with his forked-tongue and sweet kisses.

Hiss’ name left Richard’s lips with a groan, and the snake shuddered. Hearing his name uttered so beautifully made Hiss take the whole of Richard’s cock in his mouth — child’s play for a snake — causing the lion to give a low moan of pleasure.

Hiss felt the other tremble, a bead of pre-cum dripping down his throat. He drew the large member in further, deeper, stifling a whine.

“Nn… Not yet, Hiss,” moaned Richard, “not yet…”

The snake stopped to stare up in concern, and Richard’s cock was quickly pulled from his mouth, causing Hiss to unintentionally gag.

Seeing this, the king gave Hiss’ face another loving stroke with the back of a paw. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“I’m rather s-sound, Sire,” Hiss replied with an awkward smile. “Yours-s-self?”

Richard chuckled warmly; Hiss’ comfort was the one thing he cared about, next to England’s well-being.

Hiss stared; Richard’s loving gaze pierced him like an arrow. It struck his heart and he could only squirm against the bed pathetically, as if doing so would numb this overwhelming feeling.

Hiss’ tongue slipped out from between his teeth, creating a whistle as he uttered his king’s name in a soft, pleading cry.

Richard soothed him again, kissing Hiss’ forehead — the tousle of odd hair (or was it fur?) just grazing the lion’s lips — and tracing the scales along his body.

Both of them knew Prince John would have never bothered with Hiss in this way — not with love, not with passion. Richard’s younger brother was too selfish, too greedy. The pompous, childish prince would fuck gold if he could.

“How long have you been waiting?” asked Richard.

“S-s-so long,” Hiss answered, swallowing in anticipation. “S-s-ssso very long…”

“Show me,” the king said gently, and pressed a finger against the base of Hiss’ tail. The snake’s hemipenis bloomed from his cloaca, causing Hiss to cry out and shudder against the violet sheets.

The candlelight illuminated the two, and Richard couldn’t help but notice how Hiss seemed to sparkle in the soft warmth.

“I’d almost forgotten…” uttered the lion as he started a trail of kisses along Hiss’ body, “…just how beautiful you are.”

King Richard didn’t only mean this in a physical sense. Hiss was comforting, kind, intelligent, a wonderful judge of character. He could make Richard laugh, knew just what to say, and could hold a tune as well as any hired bard — it surprised Richard when he learned Hiss was more of a baritone singer, rather than a tenor like other snakes. His skill as a knight and hobby in hypnosis were both just as surprising.

It was all these things and more that made Hiss a fine choice for Richard’s confidant and friend. To think John had taken advantage of Hiss’ skills and disposition was nothing short of despicable. And it hurt Richard, then, to know it wasn’t only all of Nottingham that his brother selfishly took from.

“S-S-Sire,” Hiss whined, Richard’s breath hot on his skin, “please…” He needed him inside — but to say something so improper, so crude…

Yet the lion-hearted king understood. He gave Hiss a look of love, a look that let him know he was ready.

Richard’s large member lay against the cloaca — just below where Hiss’ hemipenis emerged. The snake shuddered.

It entered, and Hiss sobbed. He sobbed in pleasure, in pain, in relief. Richard answered his cries in soft murmurs, gentle touches and soothing gestures, kissing away the tears and giving Hiss the love and warmth he had missed and yearned for.

“I’m sorry,” Hiss uttered as the tears fell, “s-s-so sorry…!” Richard said nothing, allowing the snake to cry and explain himself. The king’s thrusts were slow, gentle, rolling in a passionate rhythm.

“I d-didn’t want to hypnotis-s-se you into leaving — your brother forc-s-sed me, Sire…!” Hiss choked, shutting his eyes and looking away. “H-He s-s-said if I told you or a-anyone els-s-se, that h-he’d…” His words trailed away, not wanting to recall what the prince had said.

He thought — he hoped — that John would have been the same as his brother as he grew and matured: a kind, selfless leader. Someone to rely on. But no; he was spineless, cruel, abusive. The only thing that stayed the same from the prince’s much younger days was that infantile habit of sucking his thumb.

Yet throughout it all, Hiss was there for John. Through all the thumb-sucking, the yelling, the name-calling, the hitting. The brief moments of anger from Hiss were all-too fleeting; if only he were stronger, braver, more confident. If only he had managed to fully hypnotise the foolish prince back in the carriage on their way to Nottingham. He would’ve traveled to Cyprus, however long it took, snapped Richard out of his hypnosis and tell his dear king everything. If only.

“It’s alright, Hiss,” Richard answered, placing a kiss to the snake’s head, fur (he was certain it was fur) tickling the lion’s lips once again, “That was then, this is now.”

Hiss looked up at him in acknowledgement, in love, vision blurred from tears. “Help me forget…”

Richard continued to thrust, Hiss’ moans and soft cries music to his ears as the snake was tenderly kissed at the neck. His tail curled into a tight coil, gripping the bed sheets as he moaned his king’s name with bouts of shaking hisses.

Hiss’ hemipenis quivered and trembled, feeling Richard’s own member pushing against them from underneath, moving deeper, faster.

The snake swallowed, his breathing rapid and irregular through the moans and stuttering. “S-S-Sire, I-I-I’m-m-m…!” Hiss shut his mouth in an attempt to stop the sinful words from leaving his tongue, as thought merely saying it was far worse than the act itself.

“Go on, Hiss,” Richard murmured, giving a soft chuckle of adoration at the sight. The two of them had started half an hour ago, yet only now was Hiss seemingly embarrassed. The vibration of Richard's laughter accentuated his rolling hips.

The king’s soft, kind affirmation was all Hiss needed to hear. The snake came with a breathy moan, coating his underbelly, a ring of colour pulsing in his eyes. It left him panting, though Hiss wasn’t able to catch his breath for long; Richard held him close, uttering the reptile’s name as his only verbal cue.

Gripping a batch of fur on the lion’s back with his tail, Hiss braced himself as he was filled with Richard’s ejaculate. Both stayed in their embrace, waiting for the moment’s euphoria to dissipate. Hiss’ own mess had already started to cool, and the snake nudged against Richard’s upper body for warmth.

The lion-hearted held the small, sleepy serpent close, and with the other paw, pulled the bed covers over the both of them, ready for sleep.

“Sire,” Hiss murmured after a yawn, unable to keep himself from drifting off, “I’m not leaving… until I wash up… tomorrow…”

#one shot #fanfic #disney #sir hiss #king richard #m/m romance #interspecies romance #emotional hurt/comfort #18+ #alice's art

[enchantedliving]

Unveiling Magic: An Exclusive Glimpse into "The Prisoner’s Throne"!

Dive into the enchantment with this mesmerizing excerpt from Holly Black's forthcoming epic, "The Prisoner’s Throne." ✨🧝‍♂️ Imprisoned princes, vengeful queens, and a destiny teetering on the edge – the Stolen Heir duology reaches its climax in a tale of love, betrayal, and the fight for Elfhame's future. 🌌💔

Read on for a sneak peek into the spellbinding world Holly Black has woven:

"He pulls the hood of the cloak down over his face and heads toward the Great Hall. Getting a glimpse of her feels more like a compulsion than a decision.

He can feel the gaze of courtiers drift toward him— covering one’s face in a hood is unusual, at the very least. He keeps his own eyes unfocused and his shoulders back, though his every instinct screams to meet their looks. But he is dressed like a soldier, and a soldier would not turn."

🔗✨ Read the full excerpt here: https://enchantedlivingmagazine.com/holly-black-the-prisoners-throne-excerpt/

Prepare to be captivated by Holly Black's unparalleled gift for weaving magic into words!

#The Prisoners Throne #Holly Black Magic #Fantasy Excerpt #holly black #young adult #fantasy #book #books #reading #magic #elfhame #oak and wren #high queen of elfhame #high king of elfhame #how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories #the stolen heir #jurdan #the folk of the air

[aeg-exe]

#the prisoners throne #cardan greenbriar #oak greenbriar #jurdan #wren #tcp #the folk of the air #tfota #the cruel prince #the stolen heir

[xalygatorx]

Worthy (2015) | Chapter 16, "A Universe Away"

Disappearing sporadically in public spaces quickly becomes Cora Dempsey's least concerning problem when suddenly she captures the attention of the forming Avengers Initiative, the World Security Council, and Asgard's fallen prince all in one week. And the universe is only just getting started with her.

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC. For additional details on what canon is used, see the Prologue post.

Summary: Loki receives his sentence. Frigga sees recognition between Loki and Cora when they see each other again and has some new questions for their guest. Cora snags Thor for a conversation during the banquet about the state of Midgard and Loki’s involvement in the attack.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!OC

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3.2k

"Loki."

Frigga's voice was quiet, but it resonated through the towering throne room like a solid echo, a ghost before it ever lived. Cora crouched and peeked through the gap between the doors just as a familiar voice reached her ears. Loki smiled, but it was cold and sarcastic. "Hello, Mother. Have I made you proud?"

He was different. He was so completely different in every way she could see in that moment. He had filled out in musculature, his form built up from the youthful lankiness she remembered. His hair was longer, just past his shoulders now, and his entire demeanor had flipped like a switch.

Loki was no longer just sly or just composed, his movements were taut and controlled like a predator's. More than ever, she could see the anger, the bitterness, and a new ruthlessness in him which all seemed to have grown in their separation. It had been only months, tops, but he was so severely changed.

Frigga saw this, too; Cora could tell despite the fact that she was faced away from her, toward Loki. How could she not? Cora knew she, herself, hadn't seen Loki in a little over six months based on the date, but she had no idea how long Loki had been away from Asgard by the time she'd met him, how much he'd changed even by then. "Please don't make this worse."

Loki gave a mockingly thoughtful glance before murmuring, "Define worse."

"Enough. I will speak to the prisoner alone," Odin's voice rang out from the throne, which was out of Cora's line of sight. She bit her lip as Frigga hesitated and then made her way back to the door, backing up when she reached the door. Frigga looked at her, seeming startled to remember that Cora had lingered. She smiled weakly before taking Cora's hand and closing the door to a crack again, both standing together to listen.

Chains clinked as Loki stepped closer to the throne, the manacles around his ankles slamming together as he stood at attention, all in taunt, before his adoptive father's throne. An amused laugh danced against the walls before he noted in all seriousness, "I really don't see what all the fuss is about."

Cora wanted to ask Frigga what was really going on, but she didn't want to miss a word of what was said beyond those doors and she could feel the Queen's grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly as she listened to who her son had become. She couldn't get over how different he was; Cora had met him when he was becoming less like the boy he'd been, but the man she saw now was quite unlike the young man she'd known. She couldn't imagine how different he was from the boy Frigga had known and raised.

Cora gave Frigga's hand a gentle squeeze as Odin asked calmly, "Do you truly not feel the gravity of your crimes? Wherever you go, there is war, ruin, and death."

"I went down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent god. Just as you do," Loki argued softly, sounding confident in his means.

"We are not gods. We're born, we live, we die. Just as humans do," Odin argued unwaveringly.

Loki snickered and remarked, "Give or take five-thousand years…" Cora's eyes widened at that and Frigga nodded beside her as an answer to her silent question of whether or not that was accurate. She'd known their kind—and apparently her kind as well—lived for quite some time, but for "give or take" fifty times the length of a long human life? She couldn't imagine; from what she'd experienced so far, twenty-five years felt like a long time to toil in the world.

"All this… Because Loki desires a throne," Odin mused, seeming to take a new angle with his tone that rammed straight home in the fallen prince's ego.

"It is my birthright!" he shouted defensively.

"Your birthright," Odin enunciated angrily, "was to die as a child. Cast out onto a frozen rock. If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me."

The pause that followed was short, but it made Cora's insides feel like they were beginning to cave in. He'd told her he was adopted; he'd never said he'd been abandoned. And despite Odin's obvious dislike with what his son had become, the words were biting and unfair in her ears. When Loki finally spoke, he sounded tired and almost impatient. "If I am for the ax, then for mercy's sake just swing it. It's not that I don't love our little talks, it's just…" He paused again. "I don't love them."

Cora and Frigga shared a glance as Odin clearly explained, "Frigga is the only reason you're still alive and you are not to see her again. You'll spend the rest of your days in the dungeon."

The chains clanked faintly before Loki's voice persistently rose above them. "And what of Thor? You'll make that witless oaf king while I rot in chains?"

"Thor must strive to undo the damage you have done, will bring order to the nine realms, and then, yes. He will be king," Odin said coolly as the clinking of the links became louder and louder as the guards drew Loki from the throne room.

Frigga gently guided Cora back from the door as the party of eight heavily armored guards pushed it open, pausing to bow before their queen. Loki stood amidst them and turned his gaze upon his mother with a faint sneer upon his lips. "I gather then that this is goodbye, Mother. I must thank you so much for—"

He stopped after his eyes had briefly slipped down to the woman at his mother's side, nearly looking away before his addled mind processed just who it was, which was the instant his words caught in his throat.

Loki's eyes met Cora's and, as it always had, the intensity of his gaze sent a jolt through her, though after all this and what had come before, it was lackluster. His lips parted on a question, but he stopped himself, and in the few seconds just before the guards forced him away on the King's orders, his features relaxed with the closest thing to vulnerability anyone had seen in ages.

Before they cleared the hall, Loki glanced back one more time at the two of them, at the sad and slightly confused look upon his mother's face and the thin frown of mixed emotions upon Cora's. She was alive. And what would she think when she understood why?

Cora watched them turn the corner and disappear, then looking to Frigga, who was already looking at her with a slightly lifted brow. Cora tried to think of something to say, but drew a blank and Frigga beat her to breaking the silence. "I have a feeling," she said gently, "that we have not been entirely open with one another."

"Frigga, I'm—"

The Queen lifted her hand and smiled, touching Cora's cheek lightly. "I know, I am certain your reasons are good. Come, let us go have something to eat and then we will go to the courtyard to continue with your swordsmanship. And have a talk, yes?"

Cora smiled back and nodded, sighing when she saw the moisture in Frigga's eyes, tears she was holding at bay. Paying no mind to the fact that she was the queen of an extraterrestrial realm, Cora pulled her into a hug, knowing no matter who she was, she was probably in sore need of one.

Frigga was surprised by the gesture, but her smile soon returned and she enfolded the younger woman in her arms. "Thank you, dear one."

Cora yelped as she landed on her backside for the third time in an hour. Frigga wasn't going easy on her anymore and it showed every time she lost her balance or got her feet knocked out from under her. She was starting to get sore this time, not from overexertion, but from an overabundance of failure.

Frigga held out her hand and helped Cora up. "You will learn faster this way," she explained apologetically before suggesting, "Why don't we take a break, hm?"

"A break sounds good," Cora panted, setting her training sword down and moving over to sit in one of the ledges of the golden arch-hollowed wall behind them. Frigga joined her and a nearby servant stepped forward to offer them a tray of drinks. Cora took one as Frigga did the same, taking an experimental taste; it was some kind of juice with a pungent flavor that resembled mixed berry V8.

"I meant to ask," Cora began after swallowing the refreshingly cold sip she'd taken, "about the hallway exercise you had me do. How did you know that would work?"

"I didn't," Frigga smiled, holding her golden cup and idly smoothing her thumb against the side. "But it was something I had done with Loki a long time ago, when he was just a boy learning to use his own gifts. The ones I bestowed upon him after we took him in. Which brings me to my own questions… You know my son. How?"

Cora's gaze dipped to peer into her drink as she began to explain, "The ones who were forced to freeze me were tracking me down. The day Thor helped them with the hammer? Loki was there. He saw me pick up Mjolnir." She said the last bit in a hushed tone so no one else would hear. It had been made clear that it would be better if no one else knew. "He thought that I could help him with all this," she said, giving a general wave that indicated Asgard and his endeavors to secure the throne, "so he took me with him and we were hiding out in a warehouse for a few days. Maybe a week."

Frigga nodded a couple of times and asked, "How much did he tell you?"

"That he was the rightful king. Adopted. He said he'd been lied to and deceived about who he was." Frigga sighed and glanced down with another nod and Cora frowned. "I'm not trying to hurt you by telling you this. I'm just trying to be as open as I can be."

"I understand. I also understand why you did not tell me sooner."

Cora nodded and asked quietly, "What happened on Earth? Why won't anyone tell me? I mean, based on what Odin said back there, I know people died, but what part did Loki have in it?"

Frigga's features contorted faintly in remorse, her lips pursing into a thin line as she replied, "First of all, I am sorry for keeping you in the dark, but the truth is no one knows precisely what happened. I told Sif not to tell you what she knew, though she knows only so much as I do—do not blame her for her silence."

She sighed and stood, setting her half-empty cup back on the servant's tray when he returned. "If you wish to know the full story, speak to my eldest when he returns." A gentle smile graced her lips although her eyes remained sad. "You did wonderfully today, by the way. Even if it does not feel as if you did."

Cora smiled bashfully and finished her drink. "Thank you. For everything, again."

"Of course," she said warmly before telling her she would see her later in the day and making her exit to go speak with her husband. Cora watched her go before setting her cup on the tray as well, the servant departing and leaving her to her own thoughts in the breezy, flowering courtyard.

Cora had been to essentially one house party in her life. It had been when she was a junior in high school and she'd only gone because her best friend at the time had wanted to drink and hit on some guy from her History class. She'd been shocked at the partiers' methods at the time with destroying property, getting wasted, and drooling all over each other in any available room with a closable door.

She hadn't considered herself much of a partier until that evening, when she accidentally attended the second large party of her lifetime, which was in the form of an Asgardian banquet. The drinking and destruction were still in abundance, but there was something warm and communal about it, something safe. Thor, Sif, and the rest of their troop had returned from the other realms, where they had been gradually bringing things back into order, as Odin had said they would.

Cora had been sitting silently, sipping a goblet of wine, and just absorbing the festive atmosphere around her; everything was right within Asgard to its born inhabitants, the ones outside the royal family at least. Their black sheep of a prince was caged, their crown prince was winning the favor of the universe with every visit to another of the Nine, and they had plenty of booze and savory edibles to go around. What could possibly be wrong in the world?

She wished she could feel so easy about all this. That she could feel easy at all anymore. Cora had started her angst at a young age after losing her parents and it had gradually solidified over the years into instinctive stoicism, like plaque in an artery. One day it would be blocked off entirely and she'd feel nothing at all.

Cora sighed and was considering leaving the room when the one she'd been waiting for a chance to speak with walked by, cloaked in a relaxed brown garment. She could tell it was Thor by the way everyone bowed, clapped hands to his shoulders, praised him like the god he was. Getting to her feet, she followed him out of the hall, pausing when he stopped a moment to talk to Sif and continuing her pursuit when they parted.

"Thor!" she called over the roar of voices and the hulking prince turned, glancing right over her head before thinking to look down and finding her weaving her way toward him. "Er, Prince Thor, I guess?"

He smirked faintly, his mind seeming somewhere else. "Thor will more than suffice," he said before taking a good look at her face, which was dappled by shadows from the flickering torches. "I know you. You are the one who swiped my hammer."

At first she was concerned, but a teasing grin curved his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes, causing her to breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, that's me. Sorry about that, by the way. Hope you didn't need it in that time."

"I learned to get along without it some time ago though it remains rather disagreeable," Thor admitted lightly before growing more serious. "What need you of me?"

Cora hesitated and then blurted out, "I need to know what happened on Earth."

Thor frowned and the expression deepened by the second. "You were—"

"I was incapacitated months before it happened, probably. When did it happen, actually?"

"You are not an ally of Loki's, then," Thor asked without quite asking at all, waiting for a confirmation.

Cora thought about that before shaking her head slowly. "I don't think so. But I would consider myself his friend, at least."

Thor nodded briefly, seeming to find something slightly ironic in that before nodding for her to come with him. "Come, we will speak where it is quieter."

Cora followed him down the hall to a terrace, where he leaned against the raised ledge and looked out across his kingdom, his eyes moving briefly toward the horizon with an edge of longing in them. "It happened just a few days ago," he began with a tight frown. "In New York. Loki brought an army of Chitauri—reptilian underlings of a being called ‘the Other’—to your world under the command of greater beings we have not identified just yet. I simply know he was not working alone."

"An army?" Cora repeated quietly, waiting for him to continue when he seemed reluctant to. She took a deep breath and asked, "How many? I mean how many people… Humans…"

Thor sighed and murmured, "Hundreds." Cora winced visibly and Thor straightened, turning toward her. "I am sorry I could not protect your world from my brother, I did not do all that I could have."

"No," Cora murmured in a tight voice, shaking her head. "No, I'm sure you did everything you could. And thank you for that. I just can't believe he…"

"I wish I could disbelieve it, but he has changed immensely from the brother I loved," Thor said bitterly, watching her. "The Loki I knew… Perhaps part of the one I suspect you knew as well…is gone, Cora."

Cora looked up at him. "How do you know my name?"

He smiled. "My mother has told me about you. She thinks quite highly of you. Cares about you a great deal."

She smiled, too, laughing softly. "She's a wonderful woman. I owe her so much."

"She does everything she does because she wishes to," Thor reassured her. He grew more serious after that and said, "It is good to know you at last," but a faint smirk tilted his mouth as he added, "However, grant me a boon and give me notice next time you wish to borrow my weapon."

Cora returned the smirk and rolled her eyes. "Thought you knew how to get along without it."

"That does not mean I prefer it," he chuckled before stepping past her to go back inside the palace. "Goodnight and enjoy the banquet. We should speak again soon. I have a few questions for you as well."

"I've got time."

"Sadly, as heir, I'm expected to 'enjoy' the banquet, myself, though I would rather keep from the noise and mess this eve. I once delighted in it, but it has since grown old."

Cora nodded before glancing toward the horizon and commenting, "You'll have to tell me about your special person some time." This caught Thor off-guard and he turned to look at Cora, who stood with her back to him. "No one looks at the sky like that and only sees the stars."

Thor smiled faintly and nodded, glancing once more at the white-dappled sky before leaving the terrace. Cora walked back in as well shortly after, heading toward the entrance to the banquet hall when she stopped short, her eyes moving toward the adjoining hall as a thought occurred to her. Midnight blue eyes flickered once back toward the party before she silently left it, moving down the vacant corridor to where the throne room doors held precedence at its end.

Cora began to leave the enclosed hall, but ducked out of sight at the edge of the archway just as a couple of liquored-up guards strolled through, heading to the festivities after a successful shift. She waited until she could no longer hear their conversation before she stepped from the shadows and left the corridor, taking one more glance behind her before she began to slowly make her way down a nearby staircase to the palace dungeon.

Next chapter: Chapter 17, "Love & Other Follies"

#loki laufeyson #loki x fem!oc #loki x oc #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #thor odinson #thor movies #thor the dark world #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #angst with a happy ending #slow burn