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straightlikewetspaghetti · 3 years

Text

The Princess and the Knight

Pairings: Poppy x MC (Bea Kingsley/Hughes)

Warnings: Mature themes, mention of death

Word count: 5391

A/N: I tried to fit the whole book into one chapter, so it's controlled chaos.

@cloud9in

"Where has that girl gone with my little tarts."

In the afternoon there was quite a commotion in the royal kitchen, as for some unexplained reasons, the tarts specially prepared for the royal afternoon tea, were going missing. The servants were accusing each other, pointing out which one of them was the biggest glutton or which one had recently gained the most weight. Such behavior among servants was not surprising. No one there trusted each other, but everyone knew how to pretend. It was sad, but what the king and queen do not know, they do not regret.

The truth turned out to be different and when the eldest of them, Ina, was left alone in the kitchen, she waited a moment and looked towards the window where the tarts were cooling down. The place was chosen deliberately by her, because she knew exactly how to catch thieves in the act. It wasn't long before the two little hands blindly began to reach for the treats, but this time they were caught by the older woman.

"Gotcha rascals." saying this, Ina pulled the thieves carefully through the window, discovering it was none other than her daughter and future princess. "Princess Poppy, Bea, you know very well what I think of your food escapades." even though she tried to sound threatening, her voice was very docile. She loved these children too much, even if Bea was not her own and Poppy was a future princess.

"Ina! How did you know it was us?" Bea asked innocently, grinning from ear to ear, unaware that her lips were covered in crumbs. Her little smile always made the hard work Ina had at the castle, worth it. She was proud of her, even if Bea was a little troublemaker.

The woman shook her head and laughed briefly, wiping her daughter's mouth with a tissue. "Your giggling can be heard from the hallway, I really have no idea how the rest of the servants didn't figure it out."

"The rest of them don't know us as well as you do." said Poppy, who had been sitting quietly until then. Her whole face was covered with a blush, and her eyes were fixed on the tips of her shoes. She looked ashamed of her act and this childlike innocence, caught the older woman by the heart.

A gentle smile entered Ina's face. It always surprised her how the Queen's daughter addressed her, with such respect, when she herself was higher up in the hierarchy. "You can call me Ina, princess." the woman reached into her apron for the cookies and gave them each one. "Come on, get out of here."

Bea saluted with a wide grin and, with the cookie in her mouth, pulled her friend along with her, who surprised, almost fell onto the countertop. Ina smiled to herself seeing the bond that brought the two girls together. They needed each other more than they could have hoped for, but that wasn't her story to tell.

When the two of them were outside, they looked at each other and burst out laughing thunderously, almost spitting cookie crumbs at each other. Falling on the soft green grass, they grabbed their stomachs almost unable to catch their breath. They couldn't have known that moments like this, would be worth their weight in gold.

"I need to learn to sneak better if I want to become a knight." Bea said contentedly, extending her hand toward the sky as if she had a sword in it. She looked between her fingers at the almost clear sky, imagining her parents looking at her with pride and faith.

Ever since Bea learned how to speak, she had only repeated that she wanted to follow in her parents' footsteps and become the best knight in the entire kingdom.

Unfortunately, she never got to meet them.

Her mother died in childbirth and her father died soon after, defending the honor of the kingdom. She was looked after by the eldest of the servants, Ina Kingsley. The woman always told her stories of her parents' lives, how her father was the bravest of the knights of the royal guard and her mother the best strategist.

This made little Bea feel any kind of bond with her family.

"I want to be a knight too!" cried Poppy behind her, mimicking her posture and almost falling down as the dress she was in, restricted her movements. She hated the clothes, but as a future queen, her opinion was worth as much as nothing. She knew that once she became a queen, that would have to change.

Bea giggled as she looked at her friend and nodded. "You can't be a knight. You're a princess."

Poppy rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, thrusting her breast forward. She could be anything she wanted, she was a princess after all. But as colorful as it sounded in practice it had no such benefits. Being a princess meant being locked in a golden cage, like some exotic bird.

And she couldn't wait to finally break free.

As the queen combed her hair to sleep, she always said how important it was for Poppy to get an education so she could follow in her footsteps and rule the kingdom. That wasn't what the blonde wanted, the vision of having power was never something important to her. For her, the most important thing was the moments she spent in the company of her best friend and the opportunity to change her kingdom for the better.

"I want to be a knight like you Bea, and explore the world with you."

At those words, the brunette turned towards the blonde and a radiant smile graced her lips. She was sure of Poppy like no one else, but the words she spoke touched her deeply, enough to settle a pleasant feeling in her stomach, that she hadn't felt since her father's death. In a flash, she hugged her tightly and wouldn't let go for any reason.

A short time later, Bea pulled away from her and extended a small finger in her direction. "I, Bea Kingsley, promise to be by your side until death."

Poppy looked stunned at her friend, who was looking at her for the first time with such apparent seriousness. She felt like tears were coming to her eyes, but not of sadness, but of happiness. The way Bea was devoted to her and expected nothing in return, always grabbed her heart, even if they were still children. The brunette would always have a special place in her heart and even if it sounded selfish, she would be able to go to the ends of earth for her.

She reached out her finger and linked it with Bea's, almost choking from the happiness that was engulfing her. "I Poppy Min Sinclair promise, to be by your side until death."

The wind that was blowing around them stopped and a blissful calm descended on the world around them. Everything became meaningless as they stood like that with fingers intertwined, making their fates forever linked.

***

"Do you ever get your nose out of those books, princess?"

Poppy blinked a few times and, adjusting her glasses, looked over to where the familiar voice was coming from. She saw a wryly smiling Bea, who was in the middle of sparring with one of her friends, who was also training to become a knight. The blonde automatically ran her eyes over the girl's muscular stomach, which glistened with droplets of sweat in the sunlight, making Poppy's throat turn to a desert. Her brown hair in total disarray framed her face, sticking in places to her face reddened from exertion.

"Give her highness a rest Kingsley and focus on the fight." her companion groaned with visible annoyance on her face.

"Zoey, I would beat you even with my eyes closed." Bea bared her teeth in an even bigger smile and winked at her best friend. She managed to notice the blonde bury her face deeper into the book, before Zoey's blade sunk into her own, knocking her off balance.

"Would that mean..." replied Zoey viciously, as she slashed at Bea's legs in one motion, causing her to fall to the hard ground with a bang. She put the tip of the blade to her throat, and a smirk appeared on her face. "That you lost?"

Bea rolled her eyes, catching the hand extended towards her and efficiently rising to a standing position. Shaking off the dust, her gaze remained fixed on the blushing blonde, who continued her reading as if nothing had happened. She knew Poppy was watching her. She'd be lying if she said that wasn't her intention. The thought of the blonde watching her, put her in a very pleasant mood.

Zoey grunted significantly, reviving her in a flash.

"Let go of Kingsley, before it's too late. She's a princess and you're barely a knight." there was no malice in her voice, it was the truth in them, that hurt the brunette so badly.

But at that moment, Bea didn't give a damn

Ignoring the black-haired girl, she ran over to Poppy and with a nimble move, she squatted next to her on the bench, making the blonde's personal space no longer exist. It was their thing. Crossing their comfort zones.

"Would it hurt you if you used more grace?" Poppy grimaced, not taking her eyes off the words on the paper, which had become extremely difficult. She drew in a deep breath and it was a mistake, because the smell of the pine trees mixed with sweat hit her nostrils, almost breaking her composure.

"You love it." Bea's words were bold, and spoken in her peculiar way, almost in a half-whisper, made the hair on the blonde's arms stand up. The brunette's chest rose and fell in a rhythm, that the blonde had in her head each time she felt Bea's breast brush against her shoulder.

"I certainly do not." she grunted, trying to put some distance between her and Bea, which was nearly impossible, with the brunette's sweaty body clinging to her clothes. She was not a girl of great faith, but at this point she began to pray for her own sanity. Poppy was really trying to focus on her lecture, but in this situation her thoughts were just buzzing. The sight of Bea, sweaty from exertion, standing in the sunlight like a goddess, was carved into her memory and now she was right next to her, literally at arm's length.

Her thoughts really were unladylike at that moment.

Before she had time to say or do anything, she heard quiet snoring. Bea managed to fall asleep, snuggling into her shoulder. With a careful motion, she combed through the brunette's hair with her fingers, letting the strands fall freely over her shoulder. Even if sweaty, her hair was incredibly soft. Her face looked so peaceful that it moved something in Poppy and her face curved into a serene smile.

Maybe she do love it.

***

"I hereby knight thee Bea of the House Hughes. Lift thy sword high and use it for the glory of the Kingdom of Belvoir!" the great castle hall echoed with shrieks and clapping so loud, that they could wake the dead. People shouted the names of the new knights, not caring that their king and queen were looking at them.

Bea had waited her whole life for those words and now that it was happening, she couldn't believe it. She felt an incredible joy inside her and even something like a strange warmth, that she recognized as her parents' pride from above. Everything she had dreamed of was at her fingertips.

Everything but one thing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Poppy looking at her with the biggest smile on her face and tears in her eyes. She looked phenomenal, even if her cheeks were covered with streams of tears and her skin was reddened. Right behind her, Bea could hear her mother blowing her nose, and in that moment she was overwhelmed with pride.

Things began to look promising.

***

The ballroom was huge and there was general splendor. There was food all around. Musicians pouring out all their soul, getting people in the mood. All the inhabitants of the Belvoir kingdom were invited to the castle without exception, as tonight's feast was for everyone. Today everyone was treated as equals, regardless of their background or wealth. The king and queen would never have agreed to this, if not for the influential play of a particular blonde.

Poppy was determined to find Bea in the crowd, which seemed almost impossible in the prevailing hustle and bustle. She moved among the people with regal grace, forgetting for a moment that as a future princess, all she had to do was say one word. She found her near the snack table absorbed in conversation with her fellow knights.

"And then I told her, don't worry the hay can be easily pulled out of... Oh princess." Zoey stopped in mid sentence and bowed seeing the blonde.

Bea turned her head to see the satisfied blonde slip her hand under her arm and tug lightly on it. She looked spectacular in her ball gown and stood out among the people attending the party. Or maybe she always stood out in her eyes. Either way, Poppy looked so good, that next to her in her armor, Bea felt like a slacker.

"Can I steal her for a few moments?" even if Poppy asked, she was already in the process of dragging Bea to the parquet floor, ignoring the strange looks of people around her.

Zoey sighed deeply while leaning against the shoulder of Alex, who was standing next to her and also looked mortified. They both knew they wouldn't be able to protect Bea, but they could always hope that the brunette herself would mature enough, to see that the feelings she had for Poppy, weren't enough to form a relationship.

"One of them is going to end up with a broken heart."

Poppy's laughter echoed around the room as she twirled in the embrace of the equally contented brunette. Her dress rose and fell freely, mesmerizing anyone who looked at her. Bea, despite the uncomfortable outfit, tried her best to fit the blonde. She didn't even realize that it wasn't the clothes that always made them fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

Bea was aware of the stares people were giving them. Some jealous, some just outraged how a princess could dance with a mere knight. She tried her best to ignore them, but one look in particular made her hair stand on end.

"I get the impression that Lord Carter feels like poking my eyes out with the spoon he's currently eating." Bea arched Poppy's body, by tilting her back slightly and letting her see exactly what she was talking about.

Poppy just shrugged her shoulders, completely ignoring the murderous look the man was giving them. Focusing her attention only on the brunette in front of her, she leaned towards her mysteriously, making the whole room cease to exist for them.

"Meet me at our place, when the moon is at its highest point in the sky." with those words on her lips, Poppy bowed elegantly and with a hypnotizing sway of her hips, she walked off in the opposite direction, leaving confused Bea alone with her thoughts.

***

Besides the crickets, the silence was pierced by the clatter of hooves on the grass bathed in moonlight. The horse was being ridden by none other than Bea, who with curiosity and undisguised excitement was heading for the place where she would meet Poppy. She slowed down her horse, as she began to see a silhouette sitting with its back to her in the distance, under a familiar tree.

"Poppy." she said as if to make sure it was definitely her. When the blonde turned toward her and gave her one of her smiles, her heart beat harder. "What is the meaning of..." her words were interrupted when the blonde closed her mouth in a sloppy kiss.

Instinctively, she reached for the blonde's waist, catching it and earning a quiet moan of approval from her throat. On the one hand, she felt an incredible warmth growing inside her, and on the other, a slight embarrassment about the whole situation. When Poppy pulled away from her, they were both red and breathless.

"Where did you even learn that?" the brunette asked, trying to calm her breathing. She touched her lips with her fingertips and felt a slight pain, and for some reason, it was pleasant feeling.

"I read about it in a book." Poppy said without taking her eyes off the brunette still touching herself on her lower lip. It wasn't a lie. When she was old enough, she found books in the library, about love and passion, that she had never known before. With each novel she read, the desire to experience it grew in her, and slowly she began to understand, that what the characters felt, she felt herself.

Bea looked at Poppy with undisguised interest. She felt that this kiss was just a foretaste of what she could experience, but she wasn't sure, if she was ready for it. And worse, she didn't want to disappoint Poppy with her lack of experience. "Show me more." she said, before she could bite her tongue.

Poppy perked up upon hearing those words and her eyes grew misty. She bit her lower lip, as she brought her lips close to the skin on the brunette's neck. She could feel the girl standing in front of her shaking all over, so for reassurance she grabbed her hand with one hand and placed the other on her neck. The contrast between Poppy's hot hand and the cool skin of Bea's neck was incredible, which aroused the blonde even more.

She pressed her lips carefully against her skin, feeling the brunette's pulse quicken instantly. A quiet whine came to her ears that felt like music to her. Faster and faster, a lust was building in her body, which she fought off with increasing difficulty. She felt as if she had been waiting for this moment all her life, right there with Bea, in the clearing, where they shared every bit of news, good or bad, with each other.

When Poppy pressed in a little harder, Bea's legs gave way under her and she pulled them both to the ground, her body lessening the momentum with which Poppy would have hit the ground. After a moment of silence, they both burst out laughing, just as they used to do when they were children. This time, however, Bea slipped her hand into the blonde's hair, causing her to fall instantly silent. The air was getting heavier and heavier and the unspoken words were begging to come out.

"Let me make love to you tonight."

It was hard to tell which one of them said that sentence, or maybe they both did, but in the flurry of scattered clothes, only moaning and panting could be heard. They did whatever their instincts told them to do, sucking, kissing, biting, touching every newfound spot on their bodies. Whatever boundary of shame they had between them, crumbled like a house of cards, making their two bodies become one.

That night neither of them would forget for the rest of their lives.

***

"I think I love you." Bea said thoughtlessly, surprising herself with what she said. The words were rather rushed and she should have thought about them more, but in the spur of the moment, she couldn't do otherwise. Poppy's body tensed in her embrace and Bea felt the weight of the dark clouds that began to appear in the sky, on her skin

After a brief moment, Poppy got off the ground and began nervously throwing her clothes on, almost completely confusing their sides. Bea watched this with visible surprise on her face. She rose from the ground, feeling a sudden chill sweep over her entire body, and following in the blonde's footsteps, she too got dressed. She could feel the storm approaching.

"Bea..." Poppy began in a tone that froze the blood in Bea's veins. The blonde grabbed her head and dropped it low, letting strands of hair cover her face. She looked like she was trying everything to get away from the brunette, even though the she was literally standing in front of her. The air between them was getting heavier and not in that pleasant way. "I'm engaged."

Bea felt the ground slip out from under her feet. As if someone had taken her heart and thrown it to the dogs to eat. As if someone had plunged a hundred knives into her, and she couldn't just die. Whatever words she had in her head dissipated, because while she was ready for anything, she wasn't ready for this one.

They didn't speak a word to each other again that night.

***

"I'm so sorry about your mother Poppy." Bea's voice was sincere despite the pain she'd been carrying inside her since that memorable night, but she loved the blonde so much that she could push away all her negative feelings, just to be there for her. She embraced her tightly and squeezed her petite figure which was shaking from crying.

Her heart though already broken before, was breaking again as she heard the blonde's quiet sobs into her shoulder. The assassination of the queen was so unexpected, that the kingdom couldn't assimilate the situation for a long time. The king locked himself in his chamber immersed in his despair, and Poppy's future husband took care of the kingdom.

"Isn't that adorable." the brunette would recognize that hate-filled voice anywhere and her hands reflexively tightened on the blonde. She hated this man with all her might and not just because he had taken the love of her life from her, but because he was a tyrant and no one could see that but her.

"Lord Carter." she bowed trying not to contort her face too much.

"Prince Carter to you, plebeian dog." he loved hearing his voice, especially when he was oppressing the people around him. He was a devil in human skin, masquerading perfectly among the common folk. People adored him, but behind closed doors there were no more illusions. "You can speak only when asked to."

"Carter please." Poppy begged, trying to appeal to a soft side of him, that she knew he didn't have. She couldn't idly watch as the person she loved most in the world was oppressed, just for being alive. Even though she knew it wouldn't do anything, she was aware that Bea could see that Poppy was making an effort for her. She believed that one day she would forgive her.

Bea looked at Poppy and made it clear to her that the blonde should let go of whatever she was doing. To her inner distaste, she gave in and bowed again. "Forgive me, Prince." the words burned in her throat, but she couldn't fight him alone. She looked again at the blonde, whose expression was unreadable. "I'll see you later, your highness." she turned on her heel and with a springy step began to walk away, when a loud rubbishy laugh ripped into her.

"I don't think so, lovebirds." his laugh seeped venom all the way into the brunette's bones, making her feel almost physical pain. His face looked like that of a maniac, who was preparing to commit a terrible act. "I'm sending Bea to the front, along with the rest of the knights."

Bea closed her eyes and sighed as quietly as she could. It was what she had always wanted after all, to defend the kingdom, but why did the vision of fulfilling her duty not bring her as much joy as it had as a child? She turned towards the prince and looked at him, ignoring the terrified blonde who was covering her mouth with her hand.

"You can't!" escaped Poppy's lips before she clamped her hand over her mouth again, but Carter only smiled unsympathetically and sent an icy stare in the brunette's direction.

"Well, I can. Bea as a knight has a duty to the kingdom that she is unlikely to want to break." with those words he locked her in a trap, crushing her spirit and cutting off her wings. He was aware of what he was doing, of how much he was destroying her, but it spurred him on, gave him strength to live, he fed on the suffering of others, and who would give him more of it than the would-be lover of his future wife?

Bea saluted and, ignoring the burning pain throughout her body this time, she left the hallway, leaving Poppy and Carter alone. The man turned to his future wife and slapped her on the cheek, the smack echoing through the empty room.

"You will not disrespect me in the presence of servants." he growled at her, causing her to curl even more into herself. There was not an ounce of pity in him, let alone compassion. "Your frivolity will get you both killed."

***

In the evening fog at the castle gate, Bea was unable to see anything. Even as she tried to stretch her senses to the limit, she felt as if she were limited. She hated that feeling. She hated feeling at all. She stroked the snoot of her horse, which stood beside her, waiting for the sign to set off. The only creature that remained loyal to her.

The rest of the knights were getting ready in the garrison, only she was standing guard for practically no reason. Maybe in her sick mind, she was trying to punish herself for being reckless and not thinking about the consequences. She heard a rustle behind her and not thinking much she drew her sword towards where it was coming from.

"I could have killed you." she sighed, seeing that on the end of her blade was none other than Poppy. The blonde looked exhausted and confused, but Bea was in the same state, maybe that's why she didn't feel any strong sympathy.

"Maybe you should." she spoke up calmly, not even flinching, as she felt the blade touch her throat. She was tired. So tired that the vision of life no longer mattered to her. Not when the only person she had left, was about to leave her for certain death.

Bea sheathed the sword and stepping away from her horse she approached Poppy. Without any emotion on her face, she placed her hand on the blonde's face, who involuntarily nuzzled into her. It was the first warmth Bea had felt in a long time and somewhere deep down she felt a growing longing.

The blonde sighed on the verge of crying, her breathing breaking, almost nearing the end. She tried to stay neutral but couldn't do it any longer. Without thinking much she jumped closer to the brunette and locked her lips in a kiss. She felt a momentary resistance, but Bea didn't want to fight anymore either, returning the kiss and pouring everything, she had felt during this time of being separated, into it.

"I can't..." Poppy mumbled between kisses, wanting to get something off her chest but unable to pull away from the brunette. "I can't lose you like I lost my mother." she didn't even notice when tears started to fall from her eyes. Bea carefully kissed away every single drop, making the renewed pain that was settling inside her less painful.

Bea pressed her forehead against the blonde's allowing herself a moment of weakness. She slipped her hand under her armor and took a moment to fumble around in it, pulling out a necklace. She carefully placed it on the unsuspecting blonde, who had her eyes closed in contemplation.

"It's the only thing I have left of my parents." the brunette whispered quietly, not wanting to scare Poppy. "I want you by touching this, to always feel the warmth of my touch. By looking at this, to always see those eyes looking at you with adoration. By knowing about this, to remember that there was someone in the world who loved you sincerely."

***

How many sleepless nights it had been, Poppy couldn't count. Between her agony and the lack of meaning in her life, she had no occupation. She locked herself in her chamber, knowing that her fiancé would take care of everything anyway and not needing her at all, not that she needed him herself.

Her father awakened from his grief at the perfect time for her to plunge into hers. Instinctively, she grabbed the necklace that had always been with her. It was like a talisman, the only thing keeping her alive. The last spark of hope that she would come back and teach her to love again.

A messenger ran into her room unannounced and nearly passed out from lack of air. She rose from her seat and looked at the man with compassion.

"Princess... Is... Answer..." the man could barely catch his breath, which worried Poppy, who sensed that the information he had, must be really important. "Knight Bea... Is dead."

No one remembers what was louder, the scream of agony she gave out of herself, or the impact with which the man fell.

Promise to be by your side until death...

***

She hated being his accessory. Every time he embraced her, she felt a million worms come out of his sleeve and get under her skin. She was sick of it, but she could no longer ignore her responsibilities. The lives of thousands of people depended on her actions. She had been deaf to their pleas long enough.

So at the ball her father had organized, she tried to mingle with the crowd, listen to requests, offer advice, and apologize to those who had suffered. She felt she had failed her mother, but she was ready to change that. She was ready to prove to Bea that she was not weak. Bea. That name quivered in her head too often, echoing and making her bleed. She didn't forget, she didn't want to forget, she remembered, she couldn't remember. Everything she felt tangled with each other in endless knots that tightened inside her.

She was sure that she had managed to process her grief, but at the thought of it, tears threatened to flow from her eyes. She blinked a few times, trying not to look suspicious. Fortunately, her subjects were too busy with their free appetizers to pay attention to her.

The doors to the ballroom opened with a bang and the sounds of clanging armor could be heard. Everyone looked towards where the commotion was coming from and were stunned. At the head of the gathering was none other than the much lamented Bea Kingsley.

"Traitor!" she shouted, aiming an arrow straight at Carter's heart, who fell stiffly to the ground, drenched in his own blood. She dropped the bow and pulled out a paper with trembling hands, which she lifted high into the air. "This letter is proof of treason! Prince Carter plotted and he was responsible for the Queen's murder!" Bea handed the piece of paper to the first better citizen, who squirmed and passed it to the next, until the letter reached the King, who looked at his son-in-law's body and spat on it showing no respect.

The king began to announce something, but everything around Bea fell silent as her eyes met a familiar warm brown. With the remnants of her strength, she began walking slowly towards her. The blonde did the same. The gawkers who stood between the two parted to give them more room, watching the whole situation with commitment. Bea reached out to touch Poppy's cheek with a trembling hand. The familiar warmth gave her strength.

"You are just as beautiful as the day we made love under the stars and the day I had to leave." she said boldly, her eyes glittering with the emotion that had taken over her entire body. She had forgotten the exhaustion, the betrayal, and the hardships that had accompanied her. All that mattered now was the woman standing before her. The woman whose fate she had been bound to since childhood.

Poppy burst out crying as she cuddled into the brunette's body as tightly as she could. She couldn't believe she had her back after all these years. All of them full of pain and agony seemed nonexistent. "I love you. I love you so much." she whispered like a mantra unable to stop, afraid that she was about to disappear.

Bea chuckled, the sound so familiar from their childhood and yet so distant. "I love you too."

#poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #zoey wade #ina kingsley #queen b #qb #choices fic #choices #playchoices

57 notes · View notes

acebladespades · 3 years

Note

For the sicktember thing, 9 with Nameless King, please? Thank you! 😊

Title (Do not) let him eat cake!

Fandom: Dark Souls

Characters: Nameless King, Ornstein, Gwynevere, Smough, Artorias, Sif.

Word-Count:2911

AO3-Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/34321024

Summary: Eating too many cakes in one go may not have been as fun as Gwynsen had thought...

Prompt: I am not sick

I am so sorry for taking so long!! Life got in the way but I finally finished your prompt :D I hope you like it, writing this was fun!

@sicktember

It was the smell which lured him out of his way and guided him to the dinning hall. Deep down, he knew there was something of importance he was meant to be doing. There was someone waiting for him.

Unconsciously, Gwynsen tried to remember, but all his thoughts faded into the background of his mind once he saw the tower of freshly baked pastries carefully placed on the table.

They exuded a sweet and delicious steam, the spicy scent of marzipan.

There were plenty, enough to feed a small army or a very hungry court.

Or, in Gwynsen’s case, a god of war with a grumbling stomach and a watering mouth.

Well, marzipan cakes are my favorite. Gwynevere finds them overly sweet and Gwyndolin often says they would rather lick a basilisk’s eyeball than to take a single bite of these sugary abominations. Oh Dolin, always so melodramatic.

Gwynsen carefully took one of the cakes in his hands.

So, surely, these were baked for me. The cooks must have wanted to surprise me. They are too generous to me. I shall see that they are rightfully rewarded! But first…

“I shall feast!” He opened his mouth and prepared to take the first bite.

“No, Gwynsen!”

But all he ended up biting was thin air and almost the tip of his tongue when, with a swift swing of her hand, Gwynevere took the cake away from him.

“What the--” Gwynsen said after his jaws recovered from the forceful impact of his empty bite. “Sister, where did you come from? And more importantly, why have you stolen my cake? Could this be fraternal betrayal?”

Gwynsen’s heart started to break at the mere thought of his own sister turning against him; thankfully, Gwynevere soon proved him wrong, but not before giving him a small slap on his head.

“Please, stop fooling around.” Gwynevere said with a heavy sigh as she placed the marzipan cake back in its former place. “Father will not approve of you eating his desserts. You know well how finicky he is about his midday cravings. Do you remember the time he destroyed the East tower with one of his lighting spears just because his pastries did not have enough powdered sugar on top? Because I do, and so do the cooks. I created many lovely memories in that tower. I loved that tower, brother, I really did.”

Gwynevere’s gaze became dark and sharp.

“Sister, please. You are scaring me.”

“Oh, I am sorry. I got a little carried away.” Immediately, Gwyenevere went back to her laid-back and cheerful demeanour, but her determination had not waned. “In any case, you shall have none of these baked goods. Unless, of course, you convince Father to share a few of them with you, but we both know that taming a rageful dragon would be an easier task, so really brother, don’t waste your time.”

“Ask Father?” Gwynsen snorted, half amused and half angry at how ridiculous the idea was. “Please. I would rather kiss Smough on the lips.”

“Brother, don’t be like that, for underneath that grotesque armor, lies a skilled kisser.”

“What?!”

“I said I would never want to do so either.”

“Gwynevere, that’s not what you said.”

“Brother, don’t you have places to be?” Gwynevere interrupted him without shame. “Isn’t it time for your daily training with Ornstein? It is not proper of a god to leave others waiting for long.”

Ornstein!

So that had been his original task before he had become distracted by the mesmerizing aroma of the cakes.

“I shall go to him at once.” Gwynsen exclaimed. His treacherous stomach seconded him with a loud growl.

He looked at the cakes again.

I’m already late for our training… so truly, you wouldn’t mind waiting for a few minutes more, would you, Ornstein?

Ornstein would definitely mind, and Gwynsen knew it.

I’ll think of a way to make it up to him later. Right now, there are more important matters at hand. And I know the way to turn things into my favor...

“Nevy, please.” Gwynsen looked around to make sure no one was around. Once he made sure there were no witnesses, he joined his hands together and looked at Gwynevere with hazy and sad eyes. “Let me have one. Father will not notice its absence, I promise. Please my dear, wise, beautiful, patient, smart, noble, brave--”

“No, Gwynsen.” Without mercy, Gwynevere interrupted her brother’s overused list of compliments. “I already told you no.”

“Then I hope you know how to explain Father about those little kisses you steal from Executioner Smough everyone now and then.”

“Oh dear… you know about it? Yes, I should have expected it. Gossip travels faster than light in this place.”

“So it’s true?! Gwynevere, you really should be more mindful of your secrets and your words. You are not what I would call subtle about them. And why, sister? Why Smough?”

“I think the right question here is ‘ Why not Smough?’ ” Gwynevere answered, winking an eye to Gwynsen.

“Gwynevere, stop. You’re killing your big brother.”

Unrepentantly, Gwynevere chuckled. “Don’t you worry, it was all a jest. Very well Gwynsen… if only to keep this small rumor between us, I shall let you eat one of Father’s cakes. Just one, understood? Now, if you excuse me, I too have someone to meet. He awaits for me in the west tower. And that someone’s name is Smough.”

Lighting power began to manifest around Gwynsen’s frame.

That bastard! How does he dare?

Gwynevere laughed at his reaction. “Oh brother, you are so easy to fool.”

She gave him a small pat on top of his head to calm him down. Gwynsen had just succeeded in controlling his temper when Gwynevere pulled him closer to her and whispered, “Seriously now, don’t come by.”

And with that, she was gone.

“My dear sister and the Executioner? No, I will not allow it!” Gwynsen exclaimed, his voice echoing with ruthless determination, the same way it did every time he commanded his soldiers to battle. “This is a transgression I cannot overlook! Wrathful lighting shall be your punishment, Smough! You shall curse the day you were--”

His stomach growled again.

Almost unconsciously, one of his hands reached for a marzipan cake.

“By the first flame, they sure smell good.”

His fury started to disappear, and it was completely forgotten when, at last, Gwynsen took the first bite.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Master!” Ornstein welcomed him as soon as Gwynsen entered the training grounds. His apprentice and friend did not bother to hide his anger at his pronounced delay. “What took you so long? We were supposed to start our training two hours ago. I had to listen to Artorias’ anecdotes this whole time. And don’t get me wrong, Artorias is my beloved friend and you know how much I care about him, but I swear, if I ever hear one more story about Sif’s antics...”

“What?” Gwynsen had heard only half of Ornstein’s rant. He wanted to pay attention, but it was difficult for him to focus on anything else other than the torturous knot on his stomach.

It hurt more than a dragon fang stuck in his gut after failing to evade the beast’s jaws. Gwynsen didn’t know how he was still standing, or how his fever had not melted his brains yet.

Oh, nonsense. I’m fine. Am I not the god who slays dozens of dragons and comes out of their fiery attacks unscathed? I am fine! I just need to walk it off.

“Oh… Oh yes, Artorias.” Gwynsen said, doing his best to sound amused. “Where is he? I thought he would be joining us.”

“He had to leave. It was time for Sif’s daily walk.”

“Wait, the wolf walks his master?”

“What? Master, what are you talking about? Sif is the wolf, Artorias is the knight.”

“Oh… right.”

An awkward pause followed, one in which Ornstein took off his helmet and revealed his concerned expression to Gwynsen.

“Master, is everything alright?”

Ornstein’s worry was like a wake-up call for Gwynsen.

“Of course it is! “Gwynsen replied with the most forced smile he had ever made in his life, even more than when he had to pretend to be happy in his father’s presence. “ Why would you ever think otherwise, Ornstein?”

“You are sweating, your face is red, your legs are trembling.” Orbstein observed, unamused but still concerned. “And you keep embracing your stomach as if you were hugging an invisible lover.”

“Ornstein, don’t tell me you’re jealous!” With gigantic effort, Gwynsen straightened his back and unfolded his arms. The sharp sting in his stomach came close to making him gasp; to conceal it, Gwynsen cackled instead. “There is no such thing as an invisible lover in my arms! Ornstein, you say the wildest of things!”

An agonizing sting pierced Gwynsen’s stomach.

I am going to pass out.

His sight blurred and his belly burned as if he had swallowed the First Flame like it was wine.

No!

Gwynsen stomped his feet. Lighting energy shattered the ground below his sandal.

No, I am not sick! I am fine. My stomach is simply overreacting at the memory of my sister and Executioner Smough sharing kisses.

His stomach growled louder than a furious dragon.

Why Gwynevere? Why did you brand that image on your brother’s mind?

“Master, you are not well!” Ornstein exclaimed with great concern. “We need to take you to Lady Gwynevere. She will know how you heal whatever ailment is--”

“Nonsense!” Gwynsen countered, making Ornstein jolt back in surprise. “My sister is quite busy, you see. He is tending to Smough at this time of the day, and not in a chaste way.”

“What?” Gwynsen and Ornstein said at the same time.

Realizing he had spoken more than he should have, Gwynsen quickly gave Ornstein a strong slap on the back. “It was a jest! Ornstein, you are such a stick in the mud! You need to loosen up and relax, for laughing and resting are also fundamental parts of a knight’s training.”

Before Ornstein could protest, Gwynsen wielded his spear and readied his fighting stance.

My stomach is going to explode. Oh Father, what will you see when you gaze upon the scattered guts of your first- born?

He would probably say something akin to “Oh Gwynsen, look at the mess you made! You are a lost case, boy, you truly are!”

“Oh Father, you insensitive knave!”

“Master, there’s no need to be rude.” Ornstein protested. He too had wielded his spear and had readied his stance.

“No, I was not talking about you, Ornstein. I was talking of my big, dumb, stupid… No, it doesn’t matter.” Gwynsen shook his head and focused. “Let’s begin. Come at me and try to land a hit, Ornstein. I will treat you as I would an enemy, so don’t hold back.”

“Master, I really think we should take you to your sister instead.”

“You talk too much! Battles are not won with words, but with arms!” Gwynsen charged at Ornstein. For a second, the adrenaline of battle, even one of training nature, erased any trace of pain. For Gwynsen, it was like a blissful and distracting gift.

I knew it. I knew my pain would go away on its own.

Gwynsen closed his eyes, rejoicing in his healthy and numb stomach.

You were no foe for this god of war, marzipan cakes! Your sweet and delicious ingredients are no match for my iron guts. MY IRON---

The rest of his victorious thought remained forever unfinished after an explosion of burning pain, born from the impact of the blunt side of Ornstein’s spear, spread from his stomach to the rest of his body.

Perhaps… I am sick.

Gwynsen thought as the darkness of unconsciousness took over his world.

Just a little bit.

----------------------------------------------------------

“Last time, Gwynsen.” Gwynevere said to her brother with anger as she and Ornstein helped Gwynsen keep the vasin still on his lap as he emptied his stomach inside it. “That was the last time I ever trusted you and your insatiable hunger!”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to.” Gwynsen stuttered in a small pause his intestines gave him. “My will may be strong, but the marzipan was stronger.”

He wanted to say more, but he was interrupted by another gush rushing up his throat. Once he was done, Gwynevere and Ornstein put the vasin down on the floor and tucked him in bed.

“Well, I have to say,” Ornstein sighed with little enthusiasm, “this is not how I pictured my day would go. There was supposed to be more training in it and less vomit. At the very least, I am glad you are feeling better now, master. Next time, don’t try so hard to pretend you aren’t feeling well.”

“And while you are at it, how about you also try not to devour four hundred marzipan cakes in one go like some hungry animal?” Gwynevere added as she glared at her brother. “God of war… The only thing you are a god of is gluttony!”

“Four hundred marzipan cakes?” Ornstein said in disbelief, only adding to Gwynsen’s shame. “Master, how could you have done such a thing? And here I was starting to think one of the cooks had tried to poison you! Four hundred cakes! And worst of all, why didn’t you ask me to join you or save some for me? You know they are my favorite too.”

“Dragon Slayer Ornstein!”

“N-no, no.” Ornstein turned crimson and began to stutter. “What I meant was… I was just saying… Oh, bollocks.”

“Ornstein!” A newcomer exclaimed. He entered the room and carefully closed the door behind him. “Such foul language in the presence of Lady Gwynevere. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Gwynsen, Gwynevere and Ornsteind stared at Artorias at the same time.

“Hey now, do not look at me all at once.” Artorias chuckled nervously. “No, seriously, please stop. I’m getting self-conscious.”

“Artorias, what are you doing here?” Ornstein asked. “I thought you were walking Sif.”

“I was, but Lord Gwyn summoned me. He told me about what happened with Lord Gwynsen and his poisoning. Something about marzipan cakes? I am not sure. Honestly, I stopped listening to Lord Gwyn soon after he started talking. I don’t know the details, but he assigned me one task: to be Lord Gwynsen’s one and only companion during his recovery. I told Lord Gwyn that you would be more fit for the job, Ornstein, but he insisted I was the one to do it. He also told me how much Lord Gwynsen is fond of my anecdotes of Sif…. Oh master, I had no idea you felt that way. Worry not, I have plenty of stories I have not told you yet. I’m sure they will be a fine diversion while you recover!”

Gwynsen closed his eyes and cursed his father in his mind.

Father, you vengeful twit! I knew you would not let my mischief go unpunished! It was just some cakes… is this truly the punishment I deserve? You are cruel, Father. Cruel.

“But at the very least, I’m not alone.” Gwynsen said under his breath with relief and gratitude. He opened his eyes again and smiled. “For I have my dear sister and loyal friend by my side.”

The words died in his mouth when he saw neither Gwynevere nor Ornstein around. The only evidence they had left behind of their presence in the room was the open door they had forgotten to close during their hurried escape.

“Nevy?” Gwynsen whispered in despair. “Orny?”

But they were gone.

Only Artorias was there with him.

Artorias and his endless anecdotes of Sif.

“Do not worry master, I am sure they will be back soon.” Artorias said, pulling a chair closer to Gwynsen’s bed and sitting on it. “In the meanwhile, how about I tell you about the time Sif answered the call on nature inside Smough’s helmet and he only noticed once he put it on? That was a day Smough will not forget....”

Father, if I ever turn against you, know that this was the reason!

Gwynsen thought as he hid his head under the pillow.

As for Artorias, he kept talking and talking.

This was the reason!

-----------------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long for Artorias to regret having left his master behind.

“Oh Lady Gwynevere, we should have not abandoned your brother. We should have remained by his side.”

“And listen to the time when Sif chewed on Father’s favorite sandals and almost brought doom upon us all? Do forgive Ornstein, but I think I shall pass. Besides...” Gwynevere turned around and stared longingly at the West tower. “There is someone waiting for me, and his name is…”

“No, I do not want to hear it. My mind shall not be branded as my master’s was!” Ornstein covered his ears and escaped from the scene. He did not know where he was going, but anywhere was better than staying there. As he ran, he kept chanting, “If I don’t hear, it isn’t real. If it isn’t real, it won’t haunt me!”

Gwynevere watched him go and laughed, unaware that Smough was standing behind her and had witnessed the whole thing.

Before he too walked away, he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“By the Lords,” he lamented under his breath, “it is always the same thing with these gods and their knights. Every day. Every darn day.”

#dark souls #sicktember #godwhatamidoing68 #thanks for the ask and your patience!

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loruleanheart · 3 years

Text

Desired Fate, Chapter 14

Read on ff.net

Read on AO3

Zelda and the others were transfixed as they looked up at the spirit of Calamity Ganon writhing around the castle. The anguish of all Hyrule hung stagnant in the air along with the ambient gurgling sound of malice.

"It's here…" Impa was the first one who managed to speak. "The Calamity has already begun…" She said, at a loss.

"No, No…." Zelda gasped when she noticed malice enter one of the nearby Guardians and became animate. It made a horrible mechanical sound as it turned its 'eye' towards the princess, a red laser appearing on Zelda's chest. Link immediately sprang into action, deflecting the Guardian's blast back at it in a brilliant flash of light.

"Calamity Ganon is taking control of the Guardians!" Zelda lamented. "It's going to turn them all against us!"

"It can do that?" Said Revali in surprise, realization starting to dawn on the Rito champion, as well as the three others. The Calamity was far more cunning than any of them had imagined.

"There are still more on the castle grounds. It's too dangerous. Everyone, protect the princess as we make our retreat!" Impa called.

"But…"

With that, Link grabbed Zelda's hand, pulling her roughly behind him as he ran down the brick path away from the Castle, which didn't go unnoticed by Astor, feeling an intense wave of sullenness he couldn't shake. They disappeared down the path and the Champions and Sheikah aide followed, no one paying him any mind in the frenzy the Calamity had created.

Astor remained, feeling out of sorts and alone, but determined to fully embrace his new destiny. Hyrule really was on its knees… Especially Zelda, who was being crushed under the weight of her duty. How had he ever been so blinded by Calamity Ganon to want this? To want to harm her? He had almost killed her for the sake of Calamity Ganon… HER! He was barely aware that his fists were clenched, wanting to make her his and spare her all this pain and suffering. The back of his neck was becoming sore as he glared up at the beast he'd once dedicated his life to serving. Calamity Ganon opened its maw to a right angle, and a thunderous roar of rage issued forth as if demanding the prophet make a blood sacrifice of himself to atone for his disloyalty.

Astor smiled up at the beast spitefully.

I wasted so many years of my life on you…. But serving you led me to her… I must thank you… I'm going to live on and create a legacy for myself, and you… You're going to be sealed away… Forever perhaps.

Astor's smile faded as he noticed King Rhoam emerge from the castle's sanctum.

"You're coming with me…" Rhoam said in a stern, matter-of-fact way., The King wielded a huge claymore single-handedly, flanked by three knight attendants.

Astor scowled at the older man, raising his hand to summon his orb, but then thought better of it, giving only a huff of defiance.

"I'm glad I have your cooperation, Astor," Rhoam said, coming close as he brandished his claymore in a vaguely threatening way. The sword was almost as big as he was.

Confident that Astor would not run or fight back, Rhoam nodded to his attendants. "Alright men, retreat!"

"Yes, Sire!" The three knight attendants said in unison. They were looking around wildly, in horror at the destruction the Guardians were bringing and a bit miffed that their king had apparently decided to take a prisoner at the worst time possible.

The five quickly, but carefully made their way down the path, Rhoam staggering a Guardian that blocked their path with a single swing of his sword. Astor could almost feel the brunt of that swing.

"Astor, I'm afraid we're going to get to know each other whether you like it or not. Had the Calamity not happened when it did, you would be in lockup now. However, since my castle is currently overrun with Guardians and all manner of Ganon's monsters, I will be keeping an eye on you myself. Suffice to say, I am not in a good mood."

Astor kept his gaze forward as they moved forward. The king's tone did not bode well for him. It wasn't lost on him that he was in a precarious situation. Still, this could be amusing.

"I know I'd rather not," King Rhoam continued, "but given that I fear you are encroaching on my daughter's divine duties, I must go above and beyond to perform mine as her father and as king." Rhoam noticed Astor's attention was elsewhere. "Look at your king when he's talking to you, you piece of filth!" Rhoam raised his voice, finding the younger man infuriating, despite knowing so little about him. The prophet had already left the worst impression on him, not that he stood a chance in hell of making a good first impression all things considered. Why would Zelda consort with this man, let alone trust him? He was scrawny, deathly pale, and dressed in rags. Everything about Astor was… off-putting. How had he and Zelda even met? Was the young knight he'd appointed to Zelda slacking off?

Astor turned his attention to the older man slowly, giving him a look of intense spite. He then saw the king's eyes widen, looking at something beyond him. Astor turned to come face to face with a Guardian's laser trained on him.

Rhoam and his men stood back, apparently obliging the Guardian to make short work of Astor.

The Guardian's laser rested on Astor for a moment, moving over the malice eye on his circlet before fading and readjusting to focus on the king.

Rhoam wasted no time in raising his claymore and bringing it down on the Guardian, giving a grunt of effort. Bolts and gears flew out of the busted machine, littering the brick pathway.

"Why did the Guardian disregard you?" Rhoam mused aloud. "How disappointing..."

"Thank you for looking out for me, Rhoam. Such a caring king and father, too… You're going to make a fine grandfather someday..." Astor said darkly, facetiously.

"How dare you!" Rhoam bellowed, giving the young man a ruthless slap across the face, causing Astor to stagger and fall. Astor simply returned a perverse smile despite the stinging sensation on his cheek. Astor began to laugh, chuckling at first and then breaking into an intense round of laughter, his yellow eyes going wide in a way that unsettled the old king - as if seeing beyond. "Yes, my children. Go harass King Rhoam and do not disappoint me!"

Rhoam was fuming. Astor was either very insane or intentionally provoking him, perhaps both. Either that or he had injured the prophet's mind when he struck him. Astor's antics were making it very difficult for the king to maintain his composure.

"You're very fortunate I am not a crass man, or I'd tell you what I think you deserve… Now tell me, how well do you know my daughter?"

"Well enough to know she is terribly lonely." Astor replied. "She despises you."

"What nonsense… Everything I've done has been for her! She was supposed to be Hyrule's pride, but it seems that the gossipmongers' words are coming true... Look around you. Hyrule is on fire. What sort of future does she have? 'Heir to a throne of nothing' if she does not awaken that power very soon. I can tell you're a lousy prophet by that alone."

"Bold words from a king who does not carry the blood of the Goddess."

"I may not carry the blood of the goddess, but I am still the rightful king of Hyrule in my late queen's stead. I was born into a noble family and my union with her was arranged by the former king and queen. The only thing I'm going to be arranging for you is an execution. Know your place, Prophet."

"An execution?" Astor almost laughed. He couldn't imagine what Rhoam's reaction might be when he learned he had formerly been trying to bring about Calamity Ganon's revival. "On what grounds?"

"Interfering with the Princess awakening her power to seal Calamity Ganon away for one. Also because it would bring me personal satisfaction. Now, get up, before I change my mind and grind my boot into your head. You're slowing down our escape."

Slowly Astor got up, dusting himself off, raising his chin to the older man in a testing manner.

"Wipe that smirk off your face. Move!" Rhoam said, giving Astor a shove with the side of his claymore.

oOo

Zelda looked back over her shoulder, her hair whipping in the wind as she ran. "Wait… Where are Astor and my father? We can't leave them behind…!"

Nobody seemed to acknowledge her question or nobody heard.

They ran through the chaotic town streets, witnessing horrifying scenes as the Guardians wrought havoc upon Hyrule's capital. Guardians were climbing the walls of houses and shops alike, some not being able to bear the weight of the mechanical wonders and the rooftops beginning to crumble.

They finally reached the main gate, crossing the threshold into Hyrule Field, as the Guardians had completely overtaken the castle and even the surrounding town. They stopped to look back, now a safe distance away. Zelda's eyes widened in horror when she realized more Guardians were appearing, being methodically ejected from the five columns that had suddenly risen out of the ground to surround Hyrule Castle. The same columns she had tried so hard to locate just days ago.

"Where did he go…?" Zelda said out of breath and sick at heart, but trying not to break down again. Hadn't she already cried all the tears she thought she had at the realization of her failure? She knew the Calamity was eventual, but experiencing it was beyond her worst nightmares.

"Little bird… How do you know he wasn't the one to summon the Calamity himself just by being present?" Said Urbosa.

"T-that can't be… " Zelda said, exasperated, not even willing to entertain the idea.

"His Majesty is missing as well… Did he remain behind on purpose?" Impa mused.

"The two are probably still bickering for all we know…" Revali quipped. "Hylian males…"

It would have been a humorous mental image in any other circumstances: Astor and her father too entrenched in their argument to notice as Guardians flooded into the Sanctum, but Zelda was vaguely aware that Astor had at least left the sanctum when the Calamity appeared.

Zelda turned her gaze elsewhere. Watching Castle Town burn was too much to bear. She happened to catch Link's eye, the boy wearing a severe expression.

You're fated to unlock your power because of him.

Zelda looked away from him and then at the back of her hand, giving an inaudible sigh, doubts about so many things clouding her mind.

This didn't go unnoticed by Urbosa, who came to stand behind Zelda, placing her hands on the princess's shoulders. "Don't give up! It's not too late."

"I know… We can't let the Calamity win. No matter what…" Zelda said, sounding downtrodden, but resolute.

"All is not lost. As long as I live I will fight. Just as you must." Impa reassured Zelda.

All the champions agreed one by one.

The group lifted their heads when they sensed others making their escape into Hyrule Field and out of Castle Town. Zelda's breath caught in her throat when she saw Astor standing in the shadow of her father's sword. He was unbound, yet it was clear from their expressions that he wasn't standing there on his own volition. Astor held her briefly in his gaze and then looked away, in shame. His face was more bruised than before.

"Champions, go to your Divine Beasts!" King Rhoam called in an official tone. "Astor will be coming with me, lest he interfere any further. Link… You are the knight to Princess Zelda. I trust you understand your duty." Rhoam said, shooting a disapproving look at Zelda.

There was a flicker in Zelda's eyes as they began to sting. "Where are you taking him?!"

Suddenly their hands held her back before she could rush forward. Zelda cried out for Astor as Rhoam and his attendants turned to leave, giving Astor another shove in the direction they were going.

A million horrible possibilities rushed through her mind. She was under no delusion that her father would deal with Astor kindly, especially if he were to ascertain Astor's former ties to the Calamity.

"What are they going to do to him?! Please, Someone, do something... Don't let them take him away!" Zelda implored pitifully, despairing because she knew none of them were going to defy her Father. Zelda dropped her head. "He's all… He's all I have…"

It was very soft, but everyone heard. Her pleas sounded all too familiar.. Rhoam halted, just for a moment to look back in irritation instead of pity as he had when she was young.

"Dammit, Zelda, show some self-control!" Rhoam said, angrily. "Your whining didn't work back then, what makes you think it will work now?"

Zelda looked hurt by his response, her shoulders shaking. Rhoam wondered if she remembered when he had confiscated the little Guardian she had named Terrako in a bid to get her to focus on her training. A decision that regrettably hadn't borne any fruit. Rhoam had almost cursed the late queen. Damn her for instilling such a love for Sheikah technology and relics in her daughter, which only proved to be a distraction for Zelda in awakening her divine power. That had been the most grievous flaw Rhoam saw in his wife.

Astor knew this was his moment to act. While the king was distracted, Astor phased past Rhoam like a restless spirit, knocking Rhoam off balance for a moment.

Zelda looked up and exhaled in surprise.

Astor came to a stop in front of Zelda, making a show of pulling her close. She clutched tightly to his robes, and for a moment everything else ceased. She was his and he was hers. She would have given much to live in that moment forever, relieved tears cascading down her cheeks.

"Her Highness is mine now. Have fun fighting the Calamity, Rhoam. You don't deserve her."

"Hylia on her throne! Stop him!" Rhoam ordered his knight attendants.

The men hesitated, fearful of the prophet's magical abilities. And in the blink of an eye, Astor raised his orb high, vanishing with Zelda in tow. Those that remained looked on in silent disbelief.

A short distance away, the scene was reflected in the 'eye' of Harbinger Ganon. Ganon knew it was winning, though that did not satisfy the being's intense all-encompassing rage. Its plans had still been disrupted. The weak-minded, disaffected Hylian man it had chosen to do its bidding in this age had somehow seen beyond the illusion of importance and power it had engineered for him. High above, the spirit of Calamity Ganon gave a shattering roar of detest for the goddess it knew was at work. And because of that vile goddess, the foolish bag of flesh was stepping out on him, even after all the power it had bestowed upon him. Ganon would simply take the man's ability to wield malice away. It would make sure the seer suffered tenfold for betraying him and choosing the girl who bore the goddess's blood. That pathetic mortal was supposed to remain loyal until his dying breath at its hand, for Ganon hated all life and showed no partiality even towards those who swore allegiance to it. It had been over ten millennia since Ganon had been mortal, and any memory of its past humanity or semblance of understanding human emotions had long perished. Calamity Ganon's inhuman hatred burned against the Hylian seer, rivaling its hatred for the hero and the young woman who bore the blood of the goddess. And so, the corrupted Guardian began to plot.

#Age of Calamity #Astor #Zelast #fanfiction #Feeling good about this chapter #so decided to go ahead and post

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ichorness · 3 years

Text

there will be no tenderness- pt 1

ao3 link

Rating: E

Relationship: Rowan/Castor, Castor/Avor/Evrin

Warnings: noncon, breeding kink (no pregnancy), anal, spitroasting, slapping, spanking, branding, choking, knotting, leashes, mild puppy play, rough oral sex, rough vaginal sex, trans character being penetrated in front hole, kidnapping, emotional manipulation. lmk if i missed anything.

The royal procession gleams where it travels down the road dug through the steep hilly terrain, hard packed dirt hardened by years and years of horse hooves and carriage wheels. The carriage that passes below Rowan now is dark wood polished to a shine, pulled by 4 large white horses with braided manes and jeweled bridles. Rowan snorts at this. Only royal horses need rubies studding their bridles.

The royal guard accompanying the carriage is nothing to sneeze at, however. Half a dozen highly trained knights, devoted to nothing else but the safety of their king and the king’s family. They’re mounted on darker, smaller horses, built for speed but still strong enough to tote large men and women dressed in full mail.

Rowan lays on their stomach at the top of the hill nearest the wooden bridge that spans the river that cuts the land in half. If they look across the road, a bit to the east, they can see the tops of two burly heads also aimed at the road. The somewhat uncontrollable battle-lust of Rowan’s compatriots make them uneasy, but this is the price one pays for throwing their lot in with a couple of packless werewolves, and the two have been reliable so far.

They refocus their attention to the procession. The prince and a few of his companions are being escorted from the royal family’s country estate in the warmer, greener southern countryside where he wiles his winters away to the royal palace on the northwestern coast. The first breath of spring always brings the prince, the king’s younger son, home, on a route cleared of all other travel until he makes it safely to the capital city. The path the carriage takes changes yearly, but Rowan spent a few days in various taverns listening to merchantmen and caravan drivers griping over having to change their travel plans. Supposedly they’re compensated for the inconvenience, but apparently not enough to keep from grumbling into their cups.

The first pair of accompanying horses is close to nearing the bridge now. It’s time. Rowan lets out a low, steady whistle, like an owl, and waits until it is returned. Then, they make their sliding descent down the side of the hill, skidding to a halt a few yards ahead of the procession, directly in the middle of the road. The knights ahead of the carriage pull their mounts to a curious halt, hands already on the hilts of their swords.

Rowan raises their hands, heavy silver ring on their left pointer finger already drawing their magic forward from their chest. “Hey!” one of the knights shouts, drawing his sword and making to dismount.

By then, it’s too late, however. Rowan can feel the heavy, fast heartbeats of the horses as if they were Rowan’s own, pounding in their ears. They look into the eyes of the horses and feel the impulses of their minds, reaching in and gathering up the strands of their consciousnesses into their left hand and clenching their fingers tight around the bundle. A small tug.

The horses bearing the knights let out enraged snorts and brays, kicking and bucking with ferocity until the knights go spilling to the ground. A firmer tug from Rowan and the horses turn on the knights, staring down over them with fury and hatred. Stamping their great hooves and kicking out with their back legs.

It’s barely a thought for Rowan to sever the harnesses connecting the white carriage horses to their load, allowing them to thunder off away from the scene, dragging the driver a few yards before the fool has the good sense to release the reins. This doesn’t save the poor man, of course, for with a snap of Rowan’s ringed fingers, he bursts into a wash of flames, burning to a husk in seconds. No witnesses.

These distractions are enough that Rowan’s werewolf companions approach almost unnoticed, until Avor, larger and blonder than his compatriot, tears into the first knight. This is enough to finally draw screams of terror from inside the carriage, the prince and his pampered friends clearly unused to such brutality. One of the knights draws her weapon, a long necked rifle from the east, new and expensive, supposedly able to fire projectiles at amazing speeds.

Rowan has never seen one up close, as they are prized and the sale of them is heavily restricted, but they know that within the chamber there is flint and powder to launch the small steel ball within the barrel. They release their control of the horses, that part of the job now done, and focus their energy on the spark waiting to be lit inside of the rifle. All at once, it explodes with surprising force, blowing up in the knight’s face as she draws it close to her face to take aim. She falls to the ground with a scream, face a bloody mess and hands blown to bits.

A knight ducks one of Evrin’s clawed slashes and charges toward Rowan instead. Rowan clenches their left fist tight enough that their arm aches with the force of it, and the knight slows, a look of confused fear crossing his face. His movements become brittle and stuttered until he stops completely, frost traveling fast over his frame, feet to head. Freezing his insides, skin going blue and white. Rowan picks up a decent sized rock by the side of the dirt road and lobs it at the frozen knight. He shatters on impact, bloodless, like an ice statue.

Evrin and Avor make quick, bloody work of the rest. Their fronts are wet with red by the time the last knight falls dead, missing his throat. They stop, looking to Rowan for confirmation, who nods. The large men rip the carriage doors off the body of the carriage completely, to the horrified cries of those inside. Rowan can see four individuals, two young nobles, an older man (probably an attendant or tutor), and the prince himself. He isn’t wearing his crown in the privacy of his carriage, but his portrait is on enough walls in the kingdom that there is no mistake.

Prince Castor is cowering against the corner of the carriage, nails digging into the plush seats as if that will protect him. Rowan would pity him, if he didn’t represent such a large sum of money. “What do we do with the rest?” Evrin, smaller and moderately more reasonable than Avor, asks.

Rowan shrugs. “No witnesses,” they say, reaching into the carriage and grabbing for the prince. He shrieks when Rowan snatches his slim wrists, kicking and flailing. He’s small and weak, however, his well heeled, pampered life betraying him when he can’t even manage a proper punch. If his aim had been better he would have broken his thumb against Rowan’s face. Rowan wrestles Castor out of the carriage and wrenches his head back by a handful of his soft hair. “You saw what I did to your guards with this, didn’t you?” Rowan holds up his ring for Castor’s inspection, imbued with the power of a magical focus.

Castor manages the barest of nods. “Do you want to know what I can do to you?” Rowan can see Castor’s pulse hammering against the skin of his neck. A tiny shake of the head. “Then be a good boy,” Rowan says against the shell of his ear, breathing in the smell of his clean, perfumed skin.

The prince, wisely, stands utterly still, aside from his trembles of fear, which Rowan does not blame him for. They put him out of his pathetic misery, pressing two fingers to his temple and slowing his mind and heart until he slumps heavily into their arms, fast asleep. He will not wake for several hours. It’s a small mercy, but he will be spared witnessing the gory fate of his friends. They produce a pair of iron manacles from their pack and fasten them tightly around Castor’s princely wrists, hands behind his back.

Avor and Evrin are busy hauling the bodies of the knights toward the carriage and piling them inside of it. A limp arm hangs out the left door, and Avor kicks it back into the carriage with irritation. He hasn’t bothered wiping the blood from his face, allowing it to seep into his beard, but Evrin at least took a cursory swipe at himself with a rag sticking out from his pocket. Once all the bodies are in the carriage and the doors shut, Evrin looks to Rowan. “You’re up, boss,” he says, his tone going snide.

Rowan raises both hands, fingers splayed, and a gust of flame flares up from beneath the carriage, engulfing the entirety of it immediately. Soon the pillar of smoke will be visible for miles, as well as the stench of burning human flesh and hair.

It’s time to depart.

They take 3 horses that used to bear the knights, Rowan’s magic making them agreeable to these strangers. Rowan balances the sleeping prince in front of them in the saddle, pulling his fine velvet, fur lined hood over his head so the face on a million portraits and stamps around the kingdom isn’t bare to the world, and sets off at a steady gallop. Evrin and Avor have a bit more trouble with their mounts, magic or no. The horses sense that there are predators among them, that these man shaped creatures are beasts that can and will eat them. Avor’s steed requires a firm heel to the side before it sets off after Rowan, but soon, the three of them are riding west just as the sun turns in the sky to begin its lazy descent.

Castor’s body aches, tailbone and hips smarting like they do after a day of riding. His shoulders, also, are painful and tense, arms strained and burning. He groans softly, confused. His face is against the hard, damp ground instead of a pillow, and his neck is itching at him. He goes to stretch, bring his arms in front of him to sit up, and stops when he feels the cold, hard metal of the cuffs around his wrists. Tight enough to bruise, and the raw feeling in his wrists suggest that they have.

His breathing picks up now, panic setting in as memories of what occurred before his sleep come back to him, a bit hazy, but still alarming. Sounds of slaughter, crackling fire, the cries of men and horses. Castor rolls onto his back with a grunt and struggles into a seated position, staring around.

He’s sat in a small clearing where a tiny camp has been pitched, a tent and two bedrolls situated around a hastily dug fire pit. The itch at his throat is a length of rope that has been tied around his neck and connected securely to a fallen log a few feet behind him. It isn’t thin rope, either, and of course he’s already been divested of his dagger and travel purse. His ears burn when the phrase “like a dog” floats through his mind, collared and leashed as he is.

This minor embarrassment is in the back of his mind, however, as he takes in the others at the camp. Two massive, burly men, covered in hair and arms bulging with muscle sit on one side of the fire, eyeing him like meat. Castor has never seen werewolves before, but he can safely assume that’s what these men are. One of them, more blonde than his fellow, has a permanently elongated face, as if partially phased into that of his wolf form, eyes a clear and inhuman bright blue, and large clawed hands and feet as well. If a werewolf spends too much time in his bestial form, returning to a completely human shape becomes impossible. The other, smaller and darker haired, appears human enough, but still has a thinly veiled ferocity about him, made all the more apparent by his proximity to the other.

The third of this small party is not a werewolf, but Castor remembers them. Their cool voice in his ear and their magic ghosting over his body. The heavy silver ring on their hand gives them away, the signet on the top an engraving of many interlocking circles in a hypnotizing pattern with a sunburst at its center, a symbol of magical power. Castor has no magical talent of his own but has studied the topic enough to know the most common of sorcerers' glyphs. Most sorcerers Castor knows spend their lives amongst dusty old tomes or else are conscripted into his father’s army, but clearly others found it more prudent to seek other lines of work.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” the sorcerer says blandly, crouched beside the fire and gazing intently into the flames, either scrying or lost in thought. One of the werewolves, the larger more brutish one, snickers.

Castor glares at them sourly, lip curled with disdain. This causes both of the werewolves to laugh, as if he’s a pouting child and not one of the most powerful people in the country. “Where am I? What do you want?” he demands, trying to sound commanding. It comes out shaky and thin.

The sorcerer looks up from the flames and gives a wane smile, rising and approaching him. “Consider it a temporary interruption of your journey home. We’re ransoming you,” they say calmly, pulling a key from their pocket and reaching around Castor to uncuff his hands, putting themself very close into his personal space, close enough for Castor to feel the heat of their body. He read somewhere that sorcerers have higher body temperatures, due to the power inside them.

The manacles fall and Castor winces, examining his wrists. They’re chaffed pink and red. “Now, please remove your clothing,” the sorcerer says and Castor’s eye bulge.

“What?” Castor asks shrilly.

The sorcerer snorts. “We will be a mite less conspicuous if we aren’t parading the prince around in all of his finery. Besides,” they pinch Castor’s cloak between their fingers, feeling the material, “This will fetch a pretty price. Velvet cloak, rabbit fur lining. Silk shirt with handspun lace, if I had to guess. And,” they hook a finger over Castor’s top button, “Pearl buttons.”

Castor crosses his arms, knocking the sorcerer’s hands away. “No! Why didn’t you do it when I was sleeping, if that’s the case?”

“I wouldn’t undress someone while they slept, that would be rude,” the sorcerer replies, twisting their ring around their finger.

“If he don’t want to do it, Rowan, ‘haps we can help. He might not be used to dressing and undressing hisself,” the blonde werewolf suggests hungrily. The sorcerer, Rowan, closes their eyes, face drawn with irritation, probably at having their name revealed.

“If you make me ask again, I’ll take Avor up on his generous offer,” Rowan says, a glint in their eye. Castor swallows, looking over Rowan’s shoulder at the hulking werewolves. His fingers shake at the clasp of his cloak, but it falls to the ground. Then follow his supple leather boots and fine woolen trousers, vest, and silky white shirt. The buttons are pearl, and slip in his shaky grasp, but they too come open. He stops when he’s down to his thin underclothes and socks, cheeks burning and unable to meet Rowan’s gaze, praying he won’t be forced to take anything else off. Rowan nods, once, and sweeps their own cloak off, older and much more tattered than Castor’s, the wool worn very thin in some places, and wraps it around Castor’s shoulders. “To stave off the chill, Your Highness.”

They lock the manacles back around Castor’s painful wrists, but allow him to have his hands in front of him this time. Castor clutches the cloak closed tight around him and sits on the ground, knees tucked to his chest.

Rowan walks away, leaving Castor alone in the line of Avor’s hungry gaze. He can practically feel how the werewolf aches for him. His companion only masks it marginally better, but when the wind shifts and blows at Castor’s back, his nostrils flare, clearly smelling him.

Rowan lifts their pack onto their shoulders, crouching in the dirt at the edge of camp and sketching a glyph into it, one of warding and protection. “Where are you going?” Castor asks, heart beating in his throat. He doesn’t trust Rowan at all, but he knows with a fierce certainty that he doesn’t want to be alone with the two werewolves.

“To make sure we will not be found,” Rowan replies simply, wiggling the fingers of their ringed hand, “And mail a letter.”

“My ransom letter?”

“Quite. Boys, please keep our esteemed guest company while I’m gone,” Rowan says, and with that they set off into the trees, the rapidly darkening forest swallowing them whole.

Castor draws his cloak closer around himself, fists clenched tight around the fabric. Avor grins at him leerily. “Why aren’t you with your pack?” Castor asks nervously.

The unnamed one shrugs. “Had a few ‘differences in opinion’ with the pack. Struck out on our own,” he says shortly. His smile as he says it makes Castor wonder if he’s not remembering what the flesh of his former packmates tastes like. He shudders.

“Me ‘n Evrin are a pack of two. All we need,” Avor says proudly. “Most the time. It does get lonely, some. Evrin here is no good to lay with.” He jams a hard elbow into Evrin’s side. “Not soft, not good for holding. Bet you are, though. Bet you’d be nice and warm and wet.”

Castor shakes his head frantically, pressing himself back until he’s pressed flush with the log he’s leashed to. Avor takes a few steps forward, closing the space between them and wrapping a hand around the rope attaching Castor to the tree. “Where you think you’re going, pup?”

Castor’s heart pounds, the blood rushing in his ears drowning out almost everything else. He clings the cloak closed in front of him, even as Avor uses his grip on his leash to draw him up to his knees, closer to Avor’s body. The press of the rope on his neck isn’t choking, not yet, but it easily could be, and they all know it. “I can hear your heart, boy,” Evrin says, reaching over to cup a rough hand around Castor’s cheek. “Smell your blood pounding.” His thumb traces just under Castor’s eye, then his fingers trail down, over his neck and what’s visible of his shoulders and collarbone.

Avor uses his other hand, hooking a claw under the clasp of the cloak at Castor’s neck and tearing it away with no effort at all. Castor’s hands hold it shut around his body but now his shoulders and upper back are bare, save his thin undershirt. “Please,” Castor whispers, voice high and reedy and shaking so badly he can barely force the word out. “Don’t.”

Evrin moves to pull the cloak away from Castor and Castor clings to it tightly. Not tightly enough to stop an impatient werewolf, however, and the fabric tears loudly in the silence of the evening, leaving Castor with handfuls of tattered wool as the rest of the cloak is ripped away. He whines then, a pitiful little whimper, tears springing to his eyes. “Already crying, pup? Haven’t even done anything yet. Jus’ wanna look at you,” Avor says lowly, in a voice that might have been comforting if he didn’t yank hard on the rope in his hand, choking off Castor’s airflow all at once as the prince scrambles to his feet, still more than a head shorter than Avor.

The early spring evening is cold and he can feel goosebumps blossoming on his body, his nipples hardening painfully in the chill. Evrin’s warm bulk closes in behind him, caging him between the two. He runs his hands over the thin fabric of Castor’s undershirt, almost reverent, before gathering it in both hands and ripping it open at the back to touch his skin. Evrin’s hands are burning hot on Castor’s back, callused and nails just a bit too long. Avor tears the shirt off the rest of the way, tossing it aside. In one hand he holds the rope tight and a handful of Castor’s hair, tilting his head back.

Avor doesn’t kiss him as much as he drives Castor’s mouth open with his own, sliding his tongue between Castor’s lips and laughing when Castor shrieks and squirms, though he can’t move at all against Avor’s strength and Evrin behind him.

With his other hand, Avor scores five angry lines over Castor’s chest and stomach with his claws. Castor yelps, the thin sharp cuts a searing pain, and then makes another higher noise when Avor catches one of his nipples between his fingers and pulls hard. It hurts, and yet Castor feels a familiar coil in his stomach. He tamps that down firmly, and it isn’t hard when Evrin stops stroking his hands over Castor’s stomach and suddenly drives his teeth hard into Castor’s shoulder. His teeth are sharper than they should be and break skin easily, more rivulets of blood spilling over his skin. He’s distracted from the momentary pleasure, until Avor breaks away from his mouth and licks a long line up his throat, following the pulse thundering along in his veins, tasting it thoroughly.

Evrin’s hands reach around his front to tease his nipples now, hands missing the painful claws, but he is no more gentle.

“You were wrong, little puppy. You’re so soft, warm too,” Avor says into Castor’s ear. “Wonder if all princes are s’nice as you.” Castor shivers at the gust of breath against his cheek. Evrin moves one hand from Castor’s chest and drags it down his front, cupping his hot pussy through his thin shorts.

“I can smell you, y’know. Smell you getting wet. Can’t hide from us, pup,” Evrin says with a low laugh, grinding the heel of his palm roughly into Castor’s dick. Castor’s hips leap on instinct, hitching up into the contact, before he can control himself and jerk away with an ashamed little cry.

“No…” he mumbles, shaking his head in Avor’s grip. Tears begin to slip down his cheeks in earnest now, blurring his vision.

Avor laughs in his face and let’s go of his hair to backhand him across the face, hard enough that he stumbles to the ground. Castor’s cheek smarts fiercely and he cries harder. No one has ever raised a hand to the prince before. He cups his cheek defensively and sniffles, but isn’t on the ground alone for long before Evrin and Avor join him, forcing him up onto all fours. Avor puts his hand in Castor’s hair again, pulling his head up as he fumbles his belt open, his claws tearing his trousers in his haste.

He snarls in irritation but draws his cock out, shoving his trousers down his thighs. It’s massive, long and thick and leaking from the tip already. Castor flails, scrabbling with his bound hands against the ground to rear his head away, letting out noises like a wounded animal amongst senseless begging.

Avor doesn’t budge, but he snaps, “Quit your fussing,” and fists his hand tighter in his hair, scratching his scalp and definitely ripping some of it out. Castor winces, which is a mistake, because the next time he opens his mouth Avor presses his cock in between Castor’s lips.

Castor immediately chokes and gags, unused to the feeling and unprepared for it, the head of Avor’s cock filling his mouth and stretching his lips open around it. As Avor sinks in more, undeterred by Castor’s streaming eyes and spasming throat, Evrin yanks Castor’s pants down to his knees, exposing his shamefully wet cunt to the cold night’s hair. Castor screams, muffled by Avor’s dick steadily working its way down his throat, but Evrin only spreads Castor’s ass cheeks to expose both his holes and chuckles softly.

“You filthy pup. You like his cock in your mouth don’t you?” Evrin asks, and Castor flails his feet in disagreement, but it doesn’t matter, because a thick, rough finger is feeling around in his wet pussy. Castor screeches again, trying to buck his hips and dislodge the finger, but only succeeds in sinking further down on it. “Quit screaming,” Avor says, grabbing hold of the rope around his neck and jerking it tightly, choking off what little air Castor is able to get around the cock nudging into his throat.

Evrin doesn’t bother with anything more than the finger and rubs the tip of his cock against Castor’s wet entrance briefly before sliding in while Castor grows red faced and faint from lack of air.

Castor has played with himself before, taken his own fingers and toys, but nothing nearly as large as this. Though he’s wet, the stretch burns badly, his tight hole feeling as if it might rip open. He releases a strangled cry as spit leaks down his chin and Evrin drives further in, slowly and steadily, hands bruising tight on Castor’s hips.

Avor releases the rope to hold onto Castor’s head with both hands as he begins to fuck his throat in earnest, hard and fast and sloppy while Castor tries to suppress his gags, focus on breathing through his throat. His cheeks and chin are shiny with spit, the sound of Avor’s cock sliding in and out of his mouth wet and obscene, and he’s still taken only slightly more than half.

Evrin pulls out to spit on his own cock and then Castor’s cunt before shoving back in hard and fast, forcing his cock deep and groaning with satisfaction. “That’s right pup, take it all,” he murmurs, reaching forward to ruffle Castor’s hair like a dog. He eases back and thrusts home again, snarling when Castor clenches on him. Castor cannot help the moan that escapes him or the burning shame when Avor and Evrin both laugh at him. “Stupid whore. Knew you’d love it,” Evrin says, picking up his pace.

Castor releases punched out whines every time Evrin fucks into him, enjoying it despite himself, growing wetter with arousal. “Good little bitch, taking my cock,” Evrin growls, voice growing guttural. The nails that he draws down Castor’s back are sharpened claws, opening shallow cuts.

“Gonna cum in you, pup. Gonna give you my knot,” Evrin says low in his throat. Avor continues fucking Castor’s throat, not speaking, only snarling and growling lowly. Castor takes almost the entirety of his cock now, throat finally opening up to him. Castor is still crying, tears trickling down his face, but his mind is going fuzzy with the sensation, hands on him and cocks inside him making it hard to think. He’s wet all down his thighs now, and if he wasn’t being held so tightly by them he’d be rocking back onto Evrin’s cock.

Castor can feel Evrin’s cock starting to swell at the base, stretching Castor’s cunt even more, forcing in and out until it’s too wide to fit, stuck tight inside Castor. Castor lets out a low wail, sobbing and hiccuping at the feeling of being so desperately full. Evrin ruts into him a few more times, growling like an animal, before Castor feels cum flood into him, thick ropes of it, filling him even more. He moans loudly and Evrin growls contentedly, settling.

Avor drives into Castor’s soft throat harder now, driven wild by Evrin’s orgasm, his snarl rattling in Castor’s chest. He can feel Avor’s knot begin to swell, bumping against Castor’s lips, but much too wide to fit into his mouth. Avor begins to realize this as well and grunts with irritation, thrusting forward harder. Castor gags hard, drool spilling down his face, but the knot doesn’t budge, even though it isn’t entirely swollen yet. Avor pulls his cock all the way out angrily, allowing spit and pre-cum to dribble down Castor’s chin and connect his lips to Avor’s cock with wet strings.

Avor slaps Castor hard across the face, causing him to jerk and fall off of his elbows where he’s propped up shakily. He pulls Castor back up by the hair and uses his other hand to try to pry Castor’s mouth open, forcing it wide, but still the knot can’t fit. “Should knock your teeth out, pup!” He shouts, hitting him again. Castor’s lip splits on the impact and he cries out, pressing his face to the ground again and not getting up. Avor leaves him there, looking at Evrin.

“Can’t cum if ‘m not knotted. Pull out,” he says and Evrin grunts.

“I haven’t gone down yet. Take his ass instead,” he suggests, stroking a finger over Castor’s asshole. Castor squirms and whines, shaking his head urgently, trying to form the words to plead for Avor not to.

“Won’t fit, an’ it’ll take too long to make it. Needta breed him, Evrin, now. Pull out,” Avor snarls, loud and angry.

Evrin groans, too content in his post-orgasmic haze to be bothered by his companion’s anger or respond in kind. “Fine. Deep breath pup,” Evrin says, slapping Castor’s ass hard. Castor shrieks, but then it turns into a sobbing scream as Evrin pulls himself free of his cunt, knot still swollen hard and thick, large enough that Castor worries he’ll tear in two. He doesn’t, and Evrin sighs, getting to his feet to allow Avor to take his place. Castor can feel thick dribbles of cum leaking out of him and clenches his hole instinctively. He feels so stretched open, loose and pliant.

Avor does, thumbs spreading Castor’s cunt greedily, inhaling audibly. He takes his cock in hand and presses it to Castor’s opening, shoving in hard and fast to his knot, which doesn’t fit at first. Castor realizes how much bigger Avor is than Evrin and whines into the dirt. A few more shallow thrusts and Avor’s knot finally sinks in. Castor whines, the stretch painful even after everything. As Avor fucks him harder and deeper, grunting at every pass of his knot, Evrin pulls Castor’s head up with an oddly gentle hand in his hair. He’s fisting his cock lazily, still thick with its knot and coated in cum and Castor’s own slick.

“You’re better with your mouth on something, pup,” Evrin says, drawing Castor’s lips down onto the head of his cock. “Lick it clean.” Castor takes the head in his mouth obediently, curling his tongue around it before pulling off and working his lips and tongue around the shaft, lapping up the mess, tasting them both. “Like it, don’t you, puppy? Oughta keep you for ourselves. Make a good breeding bitch,” Evrin suggests snidely.

“‘S a good cunt, but no cunt is worth the amount of money we’d lose keeping ‘im to ourselves,” Avor says, his voice nearly unrecognizable, low and rumbling. He sinks inside one last time, knot flaring wide and filling Castor up completely, stuck fast. He begins humping and grinding his hips down, no longer thrusting, holding Castor’s body flush against his.

Castor’s mouth goes slack on Evrin’s cock, tongue lolling out at the unbelievable pressure, the fullness and the ache. He’s faintly aware of the moans he’s releasing, but he’s so full that he doesn’t care. Finally, Avor cums with a howl, loud and victorious, dragging his claws hard down Castor’s back, leaving deep red cuts in his flesh. Castor screams, too, at this, at the pain but also at the feeling of cum flooding him again, the needle bite of claws in the skin of his ass. It’s so much, too much, too much for any human to withstand, and Castor almost drowns in the wave of his own orgasm. He spasms, cunt clenching down hard on Avor’s knot, falling flat on the ground except where his hips connect to Avor’s. He sobs with it, in both relief and new shame at the pleasure.

He knows Avor and Evrin are both speaking to him, goading him, insulting him, but he can no longer parse their words, instead laying utterly still and spent. Avor seems to want to remain tied until his knot goes down, unlike Evrin, and so pulls Castor into his lap for a more comfortable position, stuffing his fingers in Castor’s mouth. Castor barely notices or reacts to it, except for the fact that Avor sinks deeper inside with the new position. He settles there, head lolling, tears beginning to dry on his cheeks.

Rowan stands at the edge of camp, just inside the protective ward, and surveys the scene in front of them. The kidnapped prince lays on the ground, slumped into a sad little puddle, covered in dried blood and other fluids. His undershirt is gone, the shorts rucked down around his knees in a tangle. He’s very still, but his eyes are open and glassy, tear tracks clear on his face. Avor and Evrin sit huddled closer by the fire, looking supremely pleased with themselves. “I expected you to exhibit a modicum of self control,” Rowan sighs, and Avor snickers.

“He’s still alive, ain’t he?”

Castor sniffles. Rowan kneels down beside him, watching the way he shivers, possibly from cold, possibly from something else. “Come along, Your Highness,” they say, gripping him by the arm and pulling him to his feet. They make quick work of the rope around his neck, freeing him from the fallen tree he was tethered to. Castor hesitates, resisting. “Unless you’d like to spend the evening with your new friends?” Rowan gestures behind them to Avor and Evrin. Avor winks lewdly at him.

That gets the prince moving, hitching his shorts up most of the way and following Rowan meekly toward their tent, the only tent they bothered pitching. The werewolves don’t mind sleeping beneath the stars. Inside is warmer, a bedroll laid out as well as a larger traveling pack and an oil lamp. In one corner is Castor’s purse, which the prince stares at openly. He doesn’t put up any fight when Rowan invites him to sit down upon the bedroll, however. “They did a number on you,” Rowan says, tracing warm, gentle hands over all of the cuts and bruises Castor accumulated in the last few hours. Castor shivers under Rowan’s touch, and Rowan smiles.

They heal the scratches and the deep bite mark, the bruises on his hips and throat. He sits with his knees up, tucked against his chest. When they draw their fingers down his chest and brush against a swollen, abused nipple, he whines, then bites his lip hard as if to silence himself. Rowan hooks their fingers under the waistband of Castor’s ruined shorts, drawing them down. Castor catches their wrist in a tight grip, but Rowan makes gentle shushing sounds, as if soothing a frightened animal. “Easy, Your Highness. I’m no insatiable werewolf.” Castor let’s go, balling his hands into fists and tucking them under his chin protectively.

Rowan draws the shorts off all the way, nudging Castor’s knees apart, showing the mess of wet and white between his thighs. “They bred you deep, didn’t they?” they coo, brushing two fingers over his puffy folds. Castor twitches, but Rowan does little else but look. He’s so soft and gentle, even battered and dirty, he’s every inch the fragile, porcelain prince. Rowan is not an insatiable werewolf, but they do feel compelled to touch and feel him, maybe even take something of him for themself.

“Will it… take?” Castor asks worriedly. Rowan places a gentle hand over his abdomen.

“Not unless you’re a werewolf as well. Their kind can only mate with another of their own,” Rowan assures him. Castor visibly relaxes at this, but twitches each time Rowan touches him. Rowan can’t stop touching.

“Did you enjoy it?” Rowan asks lowly, trailing their fingers through the white mess still leaking from between Castor’s legs. Castor flinches, but his legs ease open further.

“No! No,” Castor says sharply, even as Rowan slips two fingers into his stretched, aching cunt.

Rowan arches an eyebrow. “No?” They withdraw their fingers and Castor releases a small whine. Rowan quirks their lips in half a smile. “I find that hard to believe. You enjoy this, don’t you?” Rowan ghosts their fingers, now wet, over Castor’s swollen dick, making the prince whine out again. He shakes his head frantically. Rowan laughs this time, massaging his thumb in firm circles around Castor’s sensitive cock, watching him struggle not to thrust his hips up into Rowan’s touch. “It’s alright, Your Highness. You can enjoy it. I want you to.”

Castor keens, leaning back on his elbows slowly, begrudgingly. His eyes are hooded but his expression is still distantly guarded. Rowan clicks their tongue. “Though I imagine after your evening activities you can hardly feel this at all,” they slide their fingers back inside Castor, pushing through the cum and slick. “No matter.”

Rowan withdraws their fingers, sliding them along Castor’s slit and then lower, brushing them in small circles around Castor’s ass, teasing the hole gently. Castor jumps, hips lifting as he clearly struggles between pulling away and leaning closer. “Have you had your ass fucked before?” Rowan asks conversationally, teasing his rim with one finger.

“N-no. I’ve never been with anyone before,” Castor mumbles.

“You’ve touched yourself before, though, haven’t you?” Rowan asks, pressing down with their fingers just hard enough to slide it partially inside Castor’s ass before withdrawing again. Castor nods hesitantly. “Have you fucked your own ass, I wonder? In your royal chambers, aching to feel full?” Rowan continues, sliding the finger in further and stilling while Castor clenches down on it, panting. “Have you?” They add firmly.

“Yes,” Castor breathes out in an embarrassed huff, spreading his legs more. Rowan shifts, kneeling between them, fingering Castor’s ass steadily with one cum covered finger now, their other hand going to his cock, jerking it between their thumb and forefinger.

“Did it feel like this?” Rowan eases a second finger inside. It’s tight, they have to press more firmly, and Castor’s breath catches in his throat, but he nods. “Tight and aching, just a bit of pain. Do you like pain, Your Highness?”

Castor pauses and then shakes his head no. Rowan stuffs the fingers of their left hand into his mouth briefly, hooking them over his teeth. “You needn’t lie, my prince. Your secrets are safe with me.” Rowan withdraws the fingers, wet with spit, and goes back to Castor’s dick, now rubbing against the sensitive head in time with his thrusts in Castor’s ass. He’s more relaxed now, taking the fingers easily, though he still whines with every particularly deep push inside.

Castor’s mouth stays open, panting out hot gusts of air ghosted with keens and moans, rocking his hips minutely. Rowan can see his cunt clenching as well, the heave of his chest and the flush over his neck and cheeks. He’s turning a pretty shade of pink all over, eyes closed and head tilted back. “Lying doesn’t work, anyway. I can tell how much you like it. Can feel it,” Rowan says, and Castor shakes his head again, more of a reflex than anything.

Rowan shifts their position, leaning further into Castor’s space to drive their fingers deep, pausing to gather more slick and cum still leaking from his abused cunt before adding a third finger. Castor cries out, throwing his head back. Rowan’s thumb is rough on Castor’s throbbing cock, grinding into it to draw out every sound Castor will grant them, and Castor doesn’t disappoint. He’s a noisy thing, almost shameless in his pleasure, and Rowan drinks it in.

They know Avor and Evrin can hear him, of course they can, and Rowan takes pleasure in that as well. Knowing they can give the prince something the werewolves couldn’t, that this royal, pampered thing is opening his legs for them so willingly, giving them the one thing the werewolves hadn’t taken for themselves.

“That’s it, Your Highness. Take it all like a good boy,” Rowan coos and Castor opens his eyes to meet Rowan’s gaze as he moans. “Take what you need, my prince. I won’t deny you anything,” Rowan swears.

“Please,” Castor breathes out, the last vestiges of his shame bleeding from him as he reaches out and takes hold of Rowan’s wrist, keeping them from retreating, grinding up into their fingers with fast, loud gasping breaths. “Please.”

“Yes,” Rowan replies simply, enraptured by the prince. His delicate skin marred with bloody scratches, his soft mouth open, the line of his throat stretched out invitingly. The way he feels under Rowan’s hands, so silky soft and hot to the touch, body open and inviting, leaking all over the both of them. The wet sounds of Rowan rubbing his dick and fucking his ass are obscene, but almost drowned out by Castor’s high cries and throaty groans. He might have screamed for Avor and Evrin, but he will moan and whine like this for Rowan only.

All at once, Castor clenches up, drawing tight like a bowstring, drawing in a long gasp before arching his back and moaning loudly. His holes spasm and his hips thrust and twitch uncontrollably, wetness gushing over Rowan’s hands, squirting until both Rowan and Castor’s thighs are soaked. He’s whining now, like a wounded animal, unconscious little squeaks and hiccups of pleasure and agony as Rowan works him through it.

When Castor begins to draw away, Rowan stops, wiping their hands on the prince’s already filthy underpants. Castor sags down onto the bedroll, limp and panting for a moment, before rolling onto his side and curling up.

“You’re beautiful,” Rowan says. Castor sniffles, looking at them briefly before clenching his eyes shut tight and crossing his arms across his stomach. “You can sleep with me,” they continue, “I imagine it will be more comfortable in here than on your back in the dirt out there.” They nod meaningfully toward the flaps of the tent and Castor cowers. Rowan moves around him, pulling back the top flap of the bedroll and ushering the spent prince into it before shedding their outer layers and joining him, closing the covers tightly around them.

There isn’t room for modesty in a single bedroll, though Castor struggles for it for a few moments. Pressed tight and small against the very edges of the furs, flinching from every brush of their bodies together. Rowan lays on their back, ignoring him completely, eyes closed. When the prince hesitantly shuffles closer and tucks himself against their side, however, they smile. Rowan rests a hand in the prince’s now heavily mussed hair, running their fingers through it until his breathing evens out and he relaxes fully against them.

It’s the wee hours of the morning when Rowan wakes again, and the first thing they notice is that they are alone. The second thing is the lightness of their left hand. Their ring is missing. Normally, panic would set in at this, a missing ring and hostage, but Rowan only rolls their eyes, kicking their way out of the fur bedroll and pulling on their boots and coat.

The morning is chill when they step out, the sun only barely beginning to crest the horizon. Avor and Evrin are already awake and moving around, having dressed and snuffed out the fire. “Where did he go?” Rowan asks.

Evrin gives them a sly grin. “North, skittered off about fifteen minutes ago. Figured we’d give him a li’l head start, sporting-like,” he says, jerking his head in the direction Castor fled to. Either the prince truly is royally stupid, assuming he could sneak past two werewolves and then outrun them and a sorcerer he stole from, or he’s simply hoping to reach civilization before they catch him.

“Do all wolves like to play with their food?” Rowan asks, and Avor laughs.

“Nah, most says fear rots the meat, ruins the taste. Me, though, I like tasting the fight,” he says, flashing a smile with a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“You may retrieve him, but refrain from eating him, or a repeat of last night, if you please,” Rowan says.

Avor and Evrin exchange a glance, and then Evrin speaks. “Should go alone, then. Avor has a harder time staving off his darker impulses after a chase.” Avor snarls, but doesn’t disagree. Rowan nods and Evrin lopes off into the woods, hunching down to run on all fours, body elongating to accommodate it. Rowan has no concern, for the nearest village is several miles off, and there’s no way a prince stripped to his skivvies will beat a wolf there.

They flex their left hand. Rowan is not concerned, but they are irritated. Stealing their ring was clever, perhaps, because the lack of a focus for their magic leaves them weakened, but also foolish, because now he will face a fierce punishment. Their softness the evening previous was clearly a poor decision on their part, but Rowan cannot help feeling pity for a broken, crying boy. Castor will learn not to take Rowan for granted again.

Five minutes barely pass before Rowan hears a scream pierce the woods to the north, a high pitched pathetic little cry befitting of a prince. “Your friend wastes no time,” Rowan says to Avor, who simply growls, appearing more bestial by the minute, agitated at being left behind. Probably desiring another taste of royal skin.

Evrin returns soon after, dragging the prince by his ankle. He is filthy now, covered in dirt and leaves and grass, scrabbling at the ground with his nails. Fresh tears spill down his cheeks and he chokes on them, coughing in between his fearful sobs. Evrin drops him in front of Rowan, who kneels beside him. Castor avoids their gaze, hugging himself where he lay. Evrin reaches into his trouser pocket and hands over Rowan’s ring, which glows when it is returned to them.

“Stealing my ring was very foolish, Your Highness,” Rowan says lowly, fitting the ring back onto their finger and reveling in the feeling of completeness, of power restored. “I can understand fleeing. I anticipated it. But taking a sorcerer’s focus is a great betrayal.”

“I’m sorry,” Castor whimpers, wet faced and wobbly lipped.

“You will be,” Rowan says, cupping their ringed finger with their other hand and watching as it begins to glow with heat, the air around it buckling. The metal grows orange, then red, then white hot.

Castor shrieks and scrambles back, but only gets a foot or so before Evrin pins him down with a foot to his chest, shoving him flat onto his back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, please I won’t do it again! I’ll be good,” Castor begins babbling, staring with wide eyes as Rowan hovers over him again. “I’ll be good.”

“Hold his arms down, please?” Rowan requests of Evrin, who kicks the prince’s arms apart and then lowers himself to kneel above his head, holding his wrists down firmly. Rowan straddles his waist and takes a moment to cup his cheek. “You will learn your lesson,” they say and kiss him on the wet cheek. Castor sobs.

They press their burning hot ring into Castor’s chest, above his heart, the heat immediately blistering the tender skin. Castor wails, voice cracking with the force of it, before Rowan claps a hand over his mouth. He sobs into their palm, thrashing around. Rowan admires the burn on his chest, a perfect brand of their ring, all of the lines of the rune on it bubbling up into fierce blisters.

Rowan leans down, close to Castor’s ear, breath stirring his hair. “You’re mine now, do you see? You bear my mark.” Castor doesn’t respond, only continues to cry. But if he doesn’t understand it yet, he soon will.

#there will be no tenderness #my writing #op

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shera-dnd · 3 years

Link

Chapter 2 of our little Princess and Knight AU adventures. Now that we’re all familiar with the princess, I think it is time we were introduced to the knight in question

You can read this fic through the AO3 link above or under the read more link down here. Whichever one works for you.

That night the white knight marched into Lady Schnee’s tent. Though her stance was determined, her steps were weary after the long day of constant fighting, and her demoralizing defeat.

“Lady Weiss,” greeted the Schnee servant that waited within, “it’s good to see you well.”

He was a man whose largeness of body was only matched by that of his heart. Every word that left from under his full mustache was spoken with a care, and kindness, that Weiss had yet to receive from anyone else.

“It is good to see you as well, Klein,” she replied as she found herself a bench to slump on.

She took off her helmet for the first time all day, releasing her long ponytail of silver hair from its confinement. Taking a nearby piece of cloth she wiped the sweat that had gathered on her brow, and let out a sigh she had been holding all evening.

“I take it the tournament did not go as you expected,” he commented.

“I’ve lost,” she simply declared, not wanting to linger on this topic much longer.

“I’m truly sorry to hear it, my lady,” he replied, placing a hand on her shoulder, “but this is only your first tournament, Lady Weiss. There will be plenty of chances to make the people of Atlas see you for the knight you are.”

“Thank you, Klein,” she replied, offering the man the best smile she could manage, but it was as weak as she felt in that moment, “but I can’t help but dread that this humiliation has set a standard for my coming battles.”

“Humiliation is what you’ve brought upon half my men today,” her sister declared as she joined them within the tent.

The stern glacier of a woman that was Lady Winter of House Schnee, Knight of the Winter Maiden, grew but a few degrees warmer as she saw the defeated expression on her sister’s face, and for a moment the facade melted away; she was simply Winter.

“You fought well, Weiss,” she assured her, “you stood on equal footing with the Black Knight of Vale. That is not a feat to be taken lightly.”

“Thank you,” Weiss sighed, but accepted the praise, “I’m glad to have made good on our training.”

Winter gave her a nod and a proud smile, before the frigid winds of her duty froze her expression once again into that of Lady Schnee.

“Now, I must be on my way,” she informed, “Knight Commander Ironwood has requested my presence.”

“Of course,” Weiss replied, bowing her head slightly as she did so, “when should I expect your company again?”

Her sister stopped to think for a moment.

“If your identity is to remain a secret, I do not believe it is wise for us to meet in person any time soon,” she concluded. Weiss understood her decision, but that did not mean she found any joy in it.

“Understood,” she surrendered, “I wish you luck with your preparations, sister.”

“And you with yours.”

As she left she also seemed to take Weiss’s high spirits with her, leaving her only with her lingering frustration over her defeat, and dread over the coming month without her sister.

“I believe I am in need of some fresh air,” she eventually declared. She picked her helmet up and added, “I’ll just be stepping into the woods for a moment. No point risking exposing myself.”

“Do stay safe, Lady Weiss,” Klein asked, voice full of worry.

“I still have my sword and the iron of my armor,” she assured him, “unless Lady Blake returns for a second round, I believe I’ll be fine.”

As silently as she could, Weiss stepped away from the tent and quickly made her way to the forest; only removing her helmet again once she was sure she was fully out of sight of the festival goers. She took a deep breath, taking in the fresh scents of the forest that stretched around her, placing her focus anywhere but in the frustration that boiled inside her in that moment.

Weiss shook her head and groaned loudly, kicking at a patch of grass in her way. It wasn’t working. Perhaps a brisk walk would do better at working that disappointment out of her. Though certainly brisk, what she did do was closer to stomping than it was to walking.

Curse this tournament, curse this Black Knight, curse Lord Ironwood, and curse her father while she was at it!She always made a point to stop to curse him whenever such a foul mood struck her. It was a good habit to keep, all things considered. He always had at least some fault in her foul moods, and perhaps one day one of these curses would finally land and the bastard would die some ignoble death.

No, no, it wasn’t proper of her to get like this. She was the heiress of House Schnee and if she was to maintain such a title she had to play by his rules - Winter was living proof that he was not above rescinding such privileges after all - though at the very least this White Knight character allowed her some level of much needed freedom.

She leaned back against a nearby tree and rested her head against it, closing her eyes she took another long and deep breath. She had been gone for a while now, it was probably about time she returned to her tent. Wouldn’t want Klein to worry over her well being after all.

“We thought you were dead!” A voice furiously shouted in the distance.

“Good!” Another voice shouted back, “had I stopped to tell you my intentions you would have killed me on the spot instead!”

Weiss opened her eyes. Shit, she wasn’t alone in the woods anymore. She had to get back to camp before anyone caught her here.

“And with good reason!” The first voice replied, “you betrayed us!”

“What I have done was for the good of the fae,” the second voice returned in a steely tone, “you’re just too blinded by vengeance to realize it.”

The good of the fae? There were fae in these woods with her. She had to get away right now and…this could be her chance. Were she to strike a blow against the fae she would be welcomed home as a hero. Her father would have no basis to deny her her right to become a knight.

She snuck closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the two arguing faeries.

“I would rather let vengeance blind me than allow myself to be turned into their pet!” The first voice bit back.

“I am not their pet!” The second denied, “I am their equal!”

“And yet you don their symbols, you wear their face, and you play their game,” the first one continued.

Weiss could almost see them now. It was too dark and the forest was too thick around these parts for her to make out too much detail, but she could see the shapes of the fae locked in bitter argument.

“You may see me as subservient, but I have not forgotten my roots, unseelie,” the second retorted, “I am fae, but I am also a Knight of the Fall Maiden, and it is my duty both to my court and to my kingdom that I help them find peace.”

A fae knight? And one from Vale of all places? Now that was simply not possible. The fae couldn’t even touch iron, let alone wield it as a weapon. And who would even dare to bring one of them to their order in the first place? Only a mad man would ever try.

Weiss stepped forward, now more curious than ever as to who these fae might be. She had to be slow and careful now as to not catch their--

Snap went a twig under the weight of her boots. She looked up to the figures that argued in the woods, only to be met by a familiar pair of golden eyes staring at her and through her soul. It was her.

Weiss’s hand flew to her sword as she stepped back and braced herself for a fight. But as soon as her left foot moved back it was snagged by a root that hadn’t been there before. Maybe she should curse fae tricks next time too, if there was a next time.

When the Black Knight charged at her she did her best to block the blow, but with her posture already precarious as it was, she found herself being pushed to the ground. She raised her blade again, preparing to fight on her back if she had to, but the ‘knight’ deigned only to kick the blade aside and plant her boot on Weiss’s chest.

“Lady Weiss Schnee I presume,” ‘Lady’ Blake greeted, her form now fully human once more, “you have your sister’s scowl. I see it runs in the family.”

“What are you doing?” The other fae demanded, “kill her already.”

The human form that woman had taken was not unfamiliar to Weiss. She remembered the beautiful woman cheering for her from among the crowd, and had entertained asking her for her favor once the real tournament had started. So much for that thought.

“Ah yes, for no evil shall befall us or our people were we to kill the Schnee heir,” Blake replied, sarcasm nearly dripping from her voice.

“Try it,” Weiss challenged, “I’ll make sure you both burn before you have the chance to regret it.”

“That won’t be necessary, my lady,” Blake assured her, “my friend does not wish for the atlesians to find out who we are, and you don’t want your father to find out what you’ve been doing with your free time. I propose we keep each other’s secrets.”

“How are you so sure there is even a secret to be kept?” Weiss bluffed, “how are you to know I don’t have my father’s blessing?”

“I don’t believe you would have suffered those fools at the arena were you able to wield the weight of your name against them,” she countered.

Weiss scowled at her, furious at the thought of being so easily read. Still she refused to give in.

“I will not betray my kingdom by allowing you two to freely enact whatever plans you have,” she declared, “I’d rather you both slay me now than be complicit in your actions.”

“Do not tempt me, Schnee,” the woman in blue threatened.

“As belligerent as my companion is,” Blake interjected, “I don’t believe she has any nefarious plans for you to worry over.”

“Do you really want me to simply trust that you two are only here to enjoy the festival?”

“You are one to speak of trust, human,” the woman in blue countered.

“If it will dissuade your mistrust,” Blake sighed and stepped back from Weiss. She drew her sword and, taking a knee, she planted it on the ground, “I swear on my honor as a Knight of the Fall Maiden that neither me nor Ilia intend any harm and that if you are to keep our secret, we will keep yours too.”

Weiss was taken aback. Lady Blake’s oath carried the conviction of a knight. She spoke with the same unquestioning certainty that Winter had used when she swore herself to the Winter Maiden. Fae or no, there was no doubt in Weiss’s mind that Blake truly saw herself and carried herself as a true knight.

“What?” Ilia scoffed, “are we to simply trust the Schnee? After all her house has done to us?”

Weiss got up and reached for her sword. Ilia braced for a fight, but was caught by surprise when Weiss reached for Blake’s hand and helped her stand up again.

“And I swear on the name of my house,” that earned another scoff, “that I will do you both no harm as long as you do not bring me harm, and I shall keep your secret as long as you keep mine.”

Ilia remained unconvinced, but Lady Blake was relieved to hear it. She placed a hand on their shoulders as they brought them close. They were too busy glaring daggers at each other to spare Blake a scowl.

“Now that that is done with,” she began, “Lady Ilia, Lady Weiss, I believe it’s time we all got back to camp.”

#rwby #prismatic ponytails #weiss schnee #ilia amitola #blake belladonna #medieval au #fanfic

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likeholymary · 3 years

Text

— one with the force

the phantom menace i: 1.8k words

AU: What if the Clone Wars never happened, but instead Darth Sidious cast aside the Rule of Two, forging a new way for the Sith and began amassing an army of Sith warriors to overthrow the Jedi and the Republic?

A/N: hello friends! so, i actually posted part one for this series a few days ago, but ultimately decided it wasn’t how i wanted to start this series. i also just don’t want to have to write for the entirety of the phantom menace, lol. however, Rhea’s story will still be the same, a young padawan just abandoned by her master, Dooku, who has left the Jedi Order to chase his families fortune. she still grew up with Obi-Wan, and hopefully we will delve some more into their past together as younglings soon:) this chapter will take place towards the end of the phantom menace, so we will be quickly be on chapters with bearded Obi-Wan!! please comment any thoughts or ideas you would like me to incorporate into the story! reblog if you’d like, and comment below if you want to be added to the tag list i will be starting very soon! again, thank you all for reading!

warnings: angst. mentions of abandonment.

She had once had such future, such promise, and now, she felt as though she were nothing. Being abandoned as a padawan was not something many Jedi experienced often, if at all, and yet here she was, the third padawan of her master, abandoned, alone.

Master Dooku had left so quickly that twenty-one year old Rhea did not have much time to process what the cause could be. She supposed she should call him Count Dooku now. Her nose wrinkled at the thought. What was once a great Jedi Master, was now a man who had wealth beyond measure and power that was rarely attainable.

Had it been her fault? What had she done to have failed him, to cause him to leave the Jedi Order he so dearly loved? She asked the question so many times, but she knew it was better to not reflect on the situation so selfishly.

Surely, it could not be entirely her fault. She recalled how he seemed to wane in the Force, his light turning into a flickering speck over the course of the past few years she had known him. What power he had as a Jedi that once blazed soon became disillusioned, something she could feel each time they spared or sat on the brig of their ship while on mission. He had retreated, growing into something she no longer knew, and when he left it should not have come to such a shock.

But she could not forget the fatherly affection he had for her, the kind eyes he would spare her in the library while she studied tirelessly over the Jedi prophecies and scripts of old.

She could not forget his encouragement, nor his sarcastic tone, nor the way he would lift her up and direct her in the ways of the Force so brilliantly so much so that she felt like some chosen creature, blessed to be taught by such a master.

She could not forget the attachment she held to him, and how it was slowly severed as he began to drift away from the Jedi.

And now, it had ended. Now she knew why the Jedi did not allow attachments.

Rhea Illyria tried to catch her breath but the brilliant purple lightsaber of Master Windu came rushing towards her head, and she quickly had to block it from severing it off from her shoulders.

“Concentrate, Illyria! Your heart betrays you. Let go of your attachments. Focus on the present or fail.”

With her lightsaber still above her and blocking Windu, she closed her eyes, breathing through her nose. Focus on the present or fail. Let go.

Releasing the breath through her mouth, she pushed forward with her saber against Master Windu’s, watching as he stumbled back a few steps before raising her blue lightsaber once more to clash with his.

Master Mace Windu was to train her for the foreseeable future until she was to have her trials. Despite her feelings of confusion, she actually hoped that this could mean her trials would come sooner, that she was one step closer to becoming a Jedi Knight. After all, she had been practically born in the Jedi temple, having no home of her own, having only been a babe who was dropped off on the steps of the temple on a summers day in the pouring rain. The Jedi were the only family she had ever known.

As the new master and apprentice continued to spar, Mace’s comm link beeped, signaling a meeting with the council.

“Jinn and Kenobi must have returned from Naboo. Our lesson is done for the day, my young apprentice.”

Rhea bowed her head respectfully, but also to hide the growing smile on her face. She was glad to see Master Windu jog out of the training area, as he grin began to stretch at the thought of seeing her old friend Obi-Wan Kenobi.

She and Obi-Wan had been in the same youngling clan together. The spent time together, side-by-side training in the art of the lightsaber, meditating on the mysteries of the force, sneaking off to steal baked goods from the pantries, and had lived life together as the best of friends. However, this did not mean that the two were entirely the same, and in fact they often got in trouble for causing trouble, often bickering with one another or just creating some sort of ruckus.

This quickly changed when they became padawans.

Although in his youth a willful-rebel, Obi-Wan quickly became disciplined, determined to follow the rules and make his master proud. Rhea, already a force of nature and dutiful, was placed with Master Dooku, who guided her more deeply in the knowledge of the Force.

Rhea was elated, and could not wait to see the boy from Stewjon, who she could not recall the last time she had seen, but the presence of who she could always feel.

She slowly began to make her way towards the Council’s chambers, crossing through the temple gardens and through a case of stairs, hoping to make it just as the meeting concluded. Rhea made her way through the hall, before nestling herself between one of the pillars close to the doors.

Rhea could feel him in the Council room, the anxiety rolling off of him at his masters words. Something about a boy... Whatever it was, she could feel him growing more tense and frustrated as the situation progressed. It only lessened for a moment, and it was almost as if she could feel him breathing beside her.

It was then that the Council doors swung open and Qui Gon Jinn exited with his padawan trailing behind him. They talked in hushed voices outside the doors, slowly walking in her direction. Moving from behind the pillar, she nodded at Master Jinn as she came into their view.

“Master Qui Gon, I am glad to see you returned safely from your mission.”

“Young Rhea, it is good to see your face once again. I am sorry to hear about our Master,” He commented lightly.

“Yes, it was quite unexpected but I suppose it was the will of the Force.” She paused, taking a silent breath before asking, “Could I perhaps speak with Obi-Wan?”

Qui Gon was not surprised in the slightest. He remembered on the night of his padawan’s Initiate Trials how closely he was to a small girl with brown pigtails and olive toned skin. He remembered how fierce the girl was, how she never once faltered in the ways of the Force. And how she surpassed him as their Master’s apprentice, something which shocked him, considering how he assumed Dooku would never take on another padawan. But he seemed to have a special interest in this youngling girl, whereas Qui Gon soon began to feel weighed down by the ways of his padawan. Obi-Wan was his complete opposite in every way, and did not have the same relation his former master and he had.

“Go on, young ones. Obi-Wan, I will see you later this evening at the Council meeting.”

“Yes, master.”

Rhea and Obi-Wan began to walk side by side down the hall, as Qui Gon went the other way. Taking a look behind their shoulders and seeing that his master was gone, Obi-Wan turned to Rhea and engulfed her in such a warm embrace. The girl sighed, taking in the scent of his freshly washed robes as well as the warmth emitting from him.

“I missed you so much.”

Obi-Wan pulled back slightly, giving her his signature cheeky grin. “Oh really? Are you sure? Because I quite remember you saying you couldn’t wait for me to leave on my next assignment the last time we saw one another.”

She playfully shoved his shoulder, and began to walk away, but he simply began to follow in step, slinging an arm around her shoulder like old friends do.

“It’s not my fault you can be so aggravating. Especially when you’re being competitive.”

“Hey, I totally won that sparring match!”

“You cheated! We agreed not to use the Force, simply testing our abilities with a saber.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I would have beat you either way.”

“And why do I highly doubt that?” Her eyes looked up to meet his, an eyebrow raised in a cocky attitude, but she couldn’t help the smile that creeped upon her face. A friendly silence sat between them.

“Care to take a stroll in the gardens, old man?”

“Only with you, dearest.”

Rhea let out an airy chuckle at that. It was the nickname he had so kindly doted upon her as younglings, he at the tender age of twelve and she at the age of eight. The two were bickering about something, who knows what now. However, in the heat of the argument he groaned in frustration when she compared them to sounding like some old married couple.

“Well, fine then, dearest. Why don’t we end this nonsense and retire for the evening?” It had only been three in the afternoon, causing the two to burst into a fit of laughter which ended their nonsensical debate.

The garden looked exceptional that warm afternoon, the sun shining above, casting rays of light that in turn cast shadows from the leaves through the branches. Rhea took in the meadowy scents from the flowers all around them, smiling at the willow tree that they would always sit beneath, either talking or laughing, sharing tears or a stolen pastry. It was peaceful. It was home.

“Why did Master Dooku leave?”

Obi-Wan was never the type to sly away from the obvious. He could feel Rhea’s fear, her confusion. It was a ripple in the Force, growing as each day passed and something he no longer could ignore. It was always so strange how easily he could feel her emotions from parsecs away, but in an even more mysterious way, he felt comforted knowing how his dearest was doing.

Rhea shook her head, turning away from him to stare at the starflowers nearby. “I-I don’t know. I’m so unsure of what reason he could possibly have to leave the Order. It was his life. He was one of the most brilliant Jedi I ever knew, and he abandoned it. He abandoned—”

“He abandoned you.”

She only nodded in response.

“Rhea, look at me.”

When she did not turn, he gently grabbed her chin and turned her face to look in his cerulean eyes. “It isn’t your fault. You didn’t fail. If anything, I believe Dooku failed the Order and himself. But most importantly he failed you. He left you at the height of your training. You are no less worthy of becoming a Jedi because of his failures and weaknesses.”

And she fell right into his arms, silent tears pouring down her face. “Thank you, Ben.”

Although she couldn’t see it, Obi-Wan was glad his face was tucked into her dark hair, so she could not see the blush that boomed across his cheeks at the mention of her coined nickname for him. Instead of being like hers, his was only used between them in moments like this, moments of honesty, kindness, friendship.

But to Obi-Wan, it always felt like something more.

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alderoo · 3 years

Text

A Better Captain

I’m reposting this because I wanted to edit the the post and tumblr said “no you’re on a computer now” so I couldn’t edit it. It’s here now though lmao

This was originally for the 2020 Summer Exchange on the LU Discord Server for Crab!

Description: Wild recovers a memory in Warriors’ Hyrule, and a certain concerned captain goes to see if he can help.

Also Sky just wants a nap he’s tired.

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189509

The sound of swords clashing echoed through the training yard. Warriors smiled to himself, enjoying the moment of contentment in his own era. Most of the trainees were new to him, but he didn’t mind that. Besides, Impa had taken it upon herself to help train while he was adventuring with the others.

The band of heroes had been traveling for days, with hardly a break from the onslaught of infected monsters that suddenly started appearing more often. Even Wind had looked dead on his feet, despite being the most energetic of the bunch. Since then, the heroes had split up, some retiring to rooms, others lounging near the kitchens, eager for a nice meal.

Now, it was just him, Sky, and Wild, the only ones who had been given formal training. Wild couldn’t remember it, as far as Warriors knew, but that didn’t seem to matter much to the younger hero, who was watching the clearing with interest. Sky almost looked as if he was going to fall asleep standing up.

“Chosen, you know that you can go nap in the guest rooms, right?” Warriors asked jokingly. Sky snorted, and turned to look at him, yawning.

“We’ll see. I was half listening to the conversation this time,” Sky insisted, drowsily waving his hand through the air in a half-hearted attempt at redeeming himself.

“Do you even know what we were talking about?” The Captain shot back jokingly. Sky thought for a moment.

“Something about you telling Wild the proper technique for… something. Yeesh, maybe I should go take a nap,”

“No, I have to know, have you never tried using a spear?” Wild asked, flipping through his slate and holding it up to show the other heroes. “It’s great! I could be attacking fifteen bokoblins and it’d be easy because I can keep them six feet away from me!”

“Just wait until I tell the Rancher that you did that,” Warriors threatened, and Wild gasped, hooking the slate back onto his belt.

“I said that I could have, not that I did. Get your facts straight, Captain,” Wild argued, failing to keep a straight face. Warriors snorted, and turned to face him.

“And for some reason I don’t doubt that you actually did that,” He retorted, shutting Wild up in a silence that meant he indeed had tried it Sky giggled, distracting the two from their conversation.

“If it’s any consolation, I am very proficient with a whip,” He offered, smiling. Wild beamed, and started asking where he even found a whip in the first place.

“You’ve never seen a whip before?” Sky questioned, baffled at the response. Wild nodded eagerly, and gladly held the offered item. He studied it with intense interest, and resigned to taking a picture of it on his slate, probably to show his Zelda when he got home.

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve seen one like that either,” Warriors added, taking the whip from Wild. He was about halfway through inspecting it when a clang louder than the rest echoed throughout the clearing.

Looking up, a trainee had been knocked to the ground by another, the sturdy armor scraping against the ground. Warriors watched as Impa seemed to offer some advice to the little recruit, and helped him up to try again.

“If anything, I think that woke me up,” Sky said after a moment of silence between the three.

“I doubt anything could- is Wild alright?”

At a first glance, it would look like the champion was merely staring off into space, but Warriors and Sky knew better. They had seen it before, after all. His eyes were blank and far off, looking straight through the training yard and straight into a memory.

“What do we do now? Should one of us get Twilight?” Sky nearly whispered, worrying his lip. Warriors thought for a moment. He could get through this, right? What if Wild was reliving a bad memory, and something happened? The captain had no idea, having not seen what it was like when Wild actually came out of his nostalgic stupor.

“I don’t know. Let’s wait it out, then we’ll decide what to do. If things are bad, I’ll find the Rancher and you talk to him, if not, thank Hylia,” Warriors decided, resuming his focus on the training yard in what seemed like a small ditch attempt to take the attention off of their amnesiac friend.

Warriors and Sky waited in silence for nearly three minutes when Wild returned. At first, all they heard was a little gasp from the boy, turning their heads to see his brows furrowed, eyes staring at the ground while he was lost in thought.

“Wild, are you alright?” Warriors prompted, speaking gentler than he had in awhile. He stayed silent for a few moments before responding.

“Yeah. I’m just going to take a walk,” He murmured, turning away and exiting back inside the castle.

“I’m going to take a guess here and say that it wasn’t a good memory,” Sky muttered, wearing a look of concern. Warriors sighed.

“Do you think- maybe I could talk to him?” He offered, and Sky turned around faster than he had moved that entire morning.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I’m pretty sure he punched Legend when he tried to wake him up from a nightmare. I think we should get Twilight,” Sky insisted, and Warriors shook his head.

“If he got a memory in the training yard, it must have been a memory of his training, and I know the most out of that than anyone. If anyone could help him, it’d be me,” Warriors replied, and Sky considered it.

“Okay,” He mused. “Just be careful. Don’t make him any more upset,”

“I’ll do my best,” Warriors promised, and then turned to walk off in the direction of the champion.

**********

Warriors found Wild in the courtyard. He was leaning against a wall, in the shade of a bush, hiding from the sights of everyone else. Warriors steeled himself, ready for a backlash. Taking a step forward, he purposely stepped loudly, noticing the way Wild’s ear twitched in recognition to his presence.

The Captain sat down, a good three feet away from Wild, growing uncomfortable in the awkward and heavy silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked hesitantly, glancing over in Wild’s direction. The person in question shrugged, and kept silent. “I can leave if you want me to, just ask. I wanted to see if there was any way that I could help,”

“What does it mean to you? Being a captain, I mean,” Wild murmured, taking Warriors by surprise. He shrugged.

“To me? It means a lot. After the war and everything, I take pride in continuing to protect my kingdom, just like we’re all trying to do. To others, I’m supposed to be a role model, someone to look up to and ask questions. Calm, collected, patient. It’s a lot of responsibility, but I’m happy to do it,” He answered after a moment of thought. Wild tensed, and for a moment Warriors tried to consider what Wild would say if Warriors had said something wrong. Wild laughed dryly, leaning his head back against the stone wall.

“I don’t know how to feel about that answer. Didn’t you ever wonder why I was so quiet when I met you all?” He croaked, voice becoming hoarse. Warriors shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, I can’t say I didn’t, but for a time I didn’t talk too much either. My fairy friend did most of the talking for me back then,” He admitted, and Wild furrowed his brows.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Stress. The pressure of suddenly becoming a hero was the worst of it. Before that, all I can remember was people expecting more from me then they got. I poured myself into training, becoming the perfect knight I was supposed to be. I didn’t start talking more until I met some of the people from the other eras, especially all the sassy ladies that came through. You should have seen Time’s Zora Princess lecture me out,” He laughed at the memory, getting a small smile from Wild, before it faded, and he continued to speak.

“I remembered my old captain. And I think- I think that I wanna tell you some things,” He finished, looking at Warriors, suddenly making the Captain feel very small. But nevertheless, Warriors nodded, and Wild started telling the story of his newest memory.

**********

Link coughed, nearly tripping as he did so when he was suddenly forced to dodge away from the knight in front of him.

“Sloppy! Clean it up! You’ll never beat him like that!” The captain called out from his location in the shade. It was boiling hot, and Link was shaking under the practice armor that he wore. The opposing knight, however, stood tall, having switched out with another only minutes ago.

The knight swung his sword again, and Link darted under him, making an attempt to strike him in the back, but was instead shut down as the knight turned and slammed the hilt into his side. Link’s twelve-year-old malnourished body didn’t stand a chance against the older knight, and he was knocked to the ground, a sword now pointed at his throat.

“Worthless. Get up, and do it again,” The captain commanded, and Link tried to push himself up, he really did, but his arms ended up giving out, and he was rendered practically immobile on the ground, breathing so hard that his chest was burning with the effort.

“I said get up. You’ll never stand a chance against the Calamity at this rate. Not even close. I’ll say it again, get up,” The captain ordered, and Link, out of sheer will, managed to pull himself to his feet, and leaned heavily against his sword, unable to raise it more than a few inches.

Then, to Link’s surprise, Impa spoke up.

“Captain, sir, he’s clearly dehydrated. He needs to rest before he gets seriously sick,” She pleaded, and the captain turned to sneer at her.

“This is not your decision. You may be becoming the Sheikah Chief, but this is not your place to speak,” He retorted, struggling to keep up his half-hearted calm demeanor. At that point, Link was sure that he was delirious, as the Master Sword he was leaning on seemed to be humming in his mind. Wait- that could’ve been his headache. Just thinking about it reminded him of the ache in his skull.

Before he knew it, his vision swarmed with exhaustion, and Link felt weightless as he found himself with his head in Impa’s arms. Her mouth was moving, but Link couldn’t hear what she was saying as he gave in to the abyss.

**********

“If I ever see that son of a bitch, I think I might kill him,” Warriors spat out once Wild finished retelling the memory.

“He’s dead, Wars,” He reminded, and Warriors scoffed.

“Hylia knows that won’t stop me,” He said, turning to face Wild. The captain’s gaze softened when he realized that that wasn’t what Wild needed at the moment, as tears were beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes. “You know you’re safe here, right?”

Wild nodded.

“And you know that I’d never treat you like that, right?” Warriors continued, voice getting softer. Wild nodded again, and Warriors took the opportunity to sit shoulder to shoulder, bringing his knees to his chest.

“It’s just, sometimes I feel guilty that there are parts of my life now that I like more than my life before. That I could see my house, and Flora and all my friends, and even though I know I had a family then too, I could not want to go back to before,” Wild explained, and Warriors sighed. He knew nothing about this stuff. So why did he think that he was qualified to help Wild? Well, he didn’t think that, he was too eager to try and help.

“Well, I know I’m not Twilight, and I’m usually on the pep talk side of things, not necessarily giving advice, but I think that’s okay this time around. Things happen for a reason, Wild, and whatever happened with the Calamity wasn’t your fault, and yet it changed so much for you. I think it’s amazing that you know that you’re here now, and that you’ve made the most of it,” Warriors assured, nudging playfully at Wild’s shoulder. “And besides, I also think I’d take you now over you before any day,”

Wild smiled, and sniffed, rubbing at his eyes before bringing up his arms and hugging himself.

“I think I’m just happy to have a better captain,” He said, half to himself and half to Warriors. The captain in question beamed, and wrapped his scarf around the other’s shoulders, feeling content as the younger hero leaned into the warmth.

“We should go inside, it’s getting cold,” Warriors suggested as a cool breeze blew by. “We can join Sky on his nap. Hylia help him if he hasn’t gone inside yet, you saw him earlier,”

Wild giggled, a rare sound, but one that filled Warriors with pride nevertheless. He snorted, and helped his friend up, his scarf still dangling from Wild’s shoulders. He turned the way he came, and Warriors followed, taking one last look at the courtyard for good measure.

To his surprise, he found Twilight, standing at the other end, smiling at him proudly. A smile that made Warriors feel warm even in the cold evening air.

#linked universe #lu warriors #lu wild #my writing

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talpup · 3 years

Text

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealousy of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Chapter 101

Teris sat down at a table with her friends. Excited for their much needed girls day, Venice and Teris had decided to leave early and have breakfast at a restaurant in Raque. Since Abril and Bran weren’t meeting Ricte till later in the afternoon, the two had joined them.

With the restaurant crowded, they took the first available table. At first Abril had complained about sitting out on the balcony, muttering about the salty sea breeze. Then she made Teris move, saying she wanted the seat with a view of the water.

Having seen the view from higher balcony’s at much fancier restaurants, Teris let Abril have the seat without a fuss. Hopefully giving Abril the seat would better her mood and allow Teris and Venice to finally get Abril to open up about what was going on with her, Gendry, and Ricte.

But apparently Venice had other ideas since as soon as the waitress took their order and left, she looked at Teris and demanded to know. “What’s going on?”

Teris blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. Spill.” Abril ordered.

“About Yami?” Teris’ eyes darted to Bran. She wasn’t adverse to girl talk; but there was no way she was doing so with Bran there.

“No, silly. How are you holding up? First Bran and I bring in that guy from those Crazies, only to have him die five days later. And the day after Bran and I bring that guy in, you and Yami are abducted. Never mind Nozel and Fuegoleon getting taken the night before that and ending up in Healers Hall.” Venice frowned, worried about her friend. “It’s no wonder Jax gave you and Yami the day off. You two have been through a lot.”

Teris huffed. “When aren’t we going through a lot? I have a feeling that’s what they’re going to put on my headstone. Here lies Teris Nova, she went through a lot.”

“Hey! Don’t talk like that! Your name’s gonna be Teris Sukehiro by the time there’s need for any headstone.” Teasing as she was, Venice was also deadly serious. There was no way her friend was dying anytime soon. Not if she had something to say about it.

“I know you can’t say much. But at least tell us you all learned something useful before that guy died.” Abril said, hopeful tone filled with disgust for Flic and the Agents of Chaos.

Teris glanced a Bran once again, knowing he knew the sad truth that they had learned little to nothing of use from Flic. Looking between Venice and Abril, she sighed wondering what she could tell her friends that would give them hope but wouldn’t be a lie.

101.2

Yami hadn’t needed his sense of Ki to be able to tell Bran had been disappointed he wouldn’t be spending the day off with the guys. Bran’s guilt over his boyhood friend sweetening up to Abril, when Gendry had been the first Black Bull to befriend him, likely hadn’t helped. At least Gendry wasn’t the kind of person who took his hurt and jealousy out on others. Yami doubted he would’ve been so dispassionate if in Gendry’s place. In fact he had taken his fair share of anger and jealousy over Nozel out on Bran by kicking the younger man out of his room so he could sit at Bran’s window and wait for Teris to return.

Teris… Yami smiled at the thought of her. He had teased her early this morning, feigning hurt feelings and saying she couldn’t wait to be away from him. Teris had laughed at his toying act and silenced him with a kiss, promising to make it up to him later. That promise made Yami eager for the days end so he could return to her. But first, he had some mana to expend in the hopes that it would ease the building force inside him and help with the constant undercurrent that made him want to destroy somebody just for breathing in his direction.

Seated on the ground along the perimeter of the Green Mantis’ training yard, Yami drank from a water skin and watched Jack and Tobin start their fight.

“This should be interesting. Jack’s slash magic can cut through anything given enough time to adjust but against Tobin’s giant magic it won’t make much of a difference.” Yami turned to Gendry thinking of the battle they just had. “You’ve progressed further since last time we fought. Who have you been training with?”

Gendry shrugged, eyes on the match. “Who ever I can. Mostly Bran.”

Yami nodded. Bran and Gendry were both Third Class Intermediate Magic Knights. Though his and Teris’ influence might've encouraged the rest of the Black Bulls to be a little more engaged and proactive about their duties. It had been Gendry's friendship with Bran that had prompted Gendry into wanting to become a better Magic Knight. Sadly, Abril hadn’t been all that enthused about Gendry’s newfound interest. Instead of seeing it as something they could do together, Abril complained about the time Gendry’s new focus took away from their usual activities.

Yami pushed the cork back in the stopper and tossed the water skin aside. “We should schedule a regular sparring session. Nothing too frequent. Every other week or once a month maybe.”

“I would've thought you had enough going on with being Vice Captain and dealing with the Agents of Chaos mess.” Gendry said.

“If you don’t want to just say so.” Yami said, eyes on Jack and Tobin.

“That’s not it at all. I’d like to have a set sparring session with you. I could use the practice.”

“Then?” Yami questioned.

“It’s exactly as I said. I thought you’d be bogged down and busy. I don’t want to add to the pile of things pulling at you and become a nuisance.” Gendry said.

Yami huffed, eyes following the fight. “Don’t think you’re capable of being a nuisance.”

“Tell that to Abril.” Gendry muttered.

Yami raised an eyebrow. He was no closer to understanding Gendry and Abril’s relationship then he had been during his first year as a Magic Knight. Not that he had bothered trying to understand it. Still, Gendry was a friend and friends had to occasionally show they had an interest in the others hopes and lives.

“Still wanna marry her?” Yami asked.

“I said I think I might want to marry her. And yeah. I still think I might.” Gendry said.

“Then fix things with her and see that she’s happy. If that’s too much trouble then let it go and be glad you have your answer on that ‘might want to marry her’ thing.” Yami told.

“You and Teris make it look so easy.” Gendry sighed, his complaint both envious and amazed.

Yami’s hearty laugh bounced off the surrounding trees. It echoed so loudly through the sparring field that it gave Tobin pause. Jack took advantage of the distraction, sending out a slash that knocked Tobin on his ass.

Gaining control of his laughter, Yami asked. “Which part looks easy? Dealing with a group of crazies? Or being unable to go out and do anything together because Bird Braid’s father might send more people to try and kill me? Or maybe it’s the likely future fight I’ll have with her brother to free her from her family that looks easy to you.”

“I don’t mean any of that.” Gendry said. “I know none of that can be easy. But that’s all outward stuff you have to deal with. I’m talking about the two of you. As a couple.”

Yami’s humored grin turned dopey as he thought of Teris. “Yeah. I really lucked out. Teris is an easy woman to get along with. Pig headed, prideful, overly curious, too caring brat that she is; she’s perfect.”

“Abril’s great too. I just wish she thought I wasn’t so inconsequential.” Gendry said.

“If she thinks that then she stupider than I thought.” Yami said, seeing that Jack was leading Tobin to make the kind of strike he wanted in order to serve up a good return.

Gendry scowled at Yami.

Sensing the change in his friend, Yami said by way of apology. “Fine. No bad talking the Inch Worm. So what’s the problem between you two anyway?”

Gendry ran a hand through his hair. Other than Abril’s complaints about the time his training took away from them, there was the matter of Ricte. But Ricte was a secondary problem. A causal result of an underlying problem he had been unable to name. “I don’t know.”

“Then find out. If it’s something you think is worth working on, work on it.” Yami said.

“What if it’s me? What if there’s something about me that she doesn’t like?” Gendry asked.

“She wouldn’t be your constant shadow and complaining that your training was taking time away from her if she wasn’t interested in you.” Yami told.

Gendry nodded at that, feeling better. “So what do you say to every other Monday morning?”

Yami’s brows pulled together. “For?”

“Our sparing sessions.” Gendry said.

Yami shook his head. “I got way too much going on. You’d only become a nuisance.”

“Every other Monday it is.” Gendry grinned.

101.3

Breakfast long since finished Teris, Venice, Abril, and Bran still sat at the balcony table.

“Betrothed?” Teris blinked at Venice. “When? How? Kess and Jon haven’t been dating that long. Have they? It’s not like they had long held feelings for each another the way Tobin did for you. Did they?”

Venice shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t know. I didn’t think he liked anyone else while we were dating. I only heard about the engagement yesterday afternoon. From the sound if it, they had some big fancy dinner between their families the day before that. I don’t know anything more. But since you know how all that stuff works. I was hoping you could tell me if this was Jon or his parents doing.”

Teris shook her head in disbelief. For it to be official and celebrated with a dinner, Jon and Kess’ parents would've had to have agreed to the match. But was it their parents who had made the match? Or Jon and Kess seeking one, and gaining approval? Jon might've been a bastard son of Lord Denwulf. But the Denwulf’s were quite a ways up the noble ladder from Kess’ family. And with Kess being the youngest of three daughters, it wasn’t too far fetched for Lord Yates to look to wed Kess to Jon.

“What’s it matter anyway? You’re with Tobin.” Abril said.

“I just think it’s a bit sudden and am worried for Jon’s sake.” Venice snapped. “I mean, he and Kess just started dating what? Back near the Star Awards?”

“Far as we know.” Teris nodded.

Abril shrugged. “Well, when you know. You know.”

Teris and Venice turned to her.

“What?” Abril demanded, shoulders stiffening under their gaze.

Bran’s eyes darted around the three women. He had been quiet for so long, he wondered if they had forgotten he was there. Having been the first son, Bran was use to being forgotten while his seven older sisters talked. In his experience, being forgotten was far better than being remembered.

“What do you know of it?” Venice scoffed.

Abril crossed her arms, scowling. “Apparently nothing.” Before talk of Jon and Kess could continue, Abril exhaled loudly. Resting her elbows on the table, she whined. “How does one know?”

“How does one know what?” Teris asked.

“That someone’s the one. How do you know?” Abril asked.

“I thought Gendry was your one.” Venice teased.

“So did I.” Abril mumbled.

Sharing a look with Venice, Teris prompted. “But?”

“I don’t know! He never talks of the future. How can I know Gendry’s the one if I don’t know if I’m his one?” Abril asked.

“Because the only other person Gendry regularly talks to is Yami and Bran, and I don’t think he wants to end up with either of them.” Venice played.

“It doesn’t really matter how Gendry feels. I mean, it does in the end. But it doesn’t change the way you feel at the start. Think about how torn up I was during that time Yami refused to speak to me before we got together. Him being an idiot ass didn’t change how I felt about him. Or how Tobin felt about Venice.” Teris gestured to her friend.

“The man was persistent.” Venice nodded of Tobin.

“I finally told him how I feel.” Abril muttered about Gendry.

“In words? With your voice?” Venice questioned, in disbelief.

Abril nodded.

“What did he say?” Teris asked.

“What he always says. Nothing.” Abril answered, exasperated.

Venice huffed. “Sounds about right. Guys are stupid. They either won’t shut up when you want them to be quiet. Or they refuse to talk when you want them to speak.”

“They’re not some pet that obeys.” Teris chuckled.

“I know! They’re incapable of obeying. Though it’d be nice if they at least tried to listen.” Venice complained.

Teris shook her head smiling.

“Ricte proposed.” Abril said.

“What!” The two girls and Bran exclaimed.

“Why?” Bran demanded in guilty horror.

“When?” Teris asked.

“How?” Venice questioned.

“In his last letter.” Abril answered.

“He proposed in a letter?” Venice asked, incredulous.

Teris stared, dumbfounded.

Bran frowned, unhappy with his friend.

“That’s her there.” Someone said, pointing to their table.

For a second Teris thought their waitress had complained to the restaurants manager about them lingering at the table till noon and was pointing them out. She had a moment to think that they should leave a hefty tip for taking up the spot and the waitress’ chance of further customers when a magical burst of air exploded at their table knocking them back.

101.3.2

“When you insisted I take some time off, I didn’t expect you to pay call and ask for this.” Nozel murmured, uncomfortably.

Walking beside her Vice Captain, Kess glanced out over the sea shore. While not blatantly obvious, it was clear Nozel had been struggling with some inner turmoil since his release from Healer’s Hall after his abduction by the Agents of Chaos. It was why Kess had given Nozel three days leave as soon as his debriefing about those events was done.

“Neither did I.” Kess tucked her hair behind an ear, betrothal ring glittering in the sunlight. “And I’m sorry to take you away from your family on your last day off, but I could use some help. And, well… I thought this might be a way for us to bond outside of work.”

Nozel’s father wasn’t even here. And after three days with his siblings, Nozel wasn’t all that sorry to be called away from them. He usually avoided Noelle at all costs anyway, and Nebra wanted to do nothing more than lounge out on the family’s private beach; where all Solid had done the entire time was complain about everything. Funnily enough the one thing Solid hadn’t complained about was Nozel leaving them to help his Captain in her ask. Instead Solid had taken advantage of it, saying if Nozel could go off without them then he and their cousin Kirsch could leave Nebra, Noelle, and Mimosa at the Silva’s beach estate and come into town for the day.

That’s where Nozel was now, walking the bustling boardwalk of Raque with Captain Kess. A part of him wondered why he and his Captain needed anything more than a working relationship; an all business approach had seemed to work well enough for Captain Pyter. But since becoming Vice Captain, Nozel had discovered that, though not necessary, some kind of acquaintance outside of work was of helpful use for the productive betterment of work. That’s not to say he was going to turn into Captain Kess and seek to be warm and inviting, encouraging his subordinates to come to him with their personal problems. But he didn’t want to be like Captain Pyter had been either, completely distant and uninterested in his squad members troubles.

Yet even after coming to the conclusion that developing some kind of friendly acquaintance outside of work was of benefit, Nozel thought his Captain's request was too much. More than that, he didn’t think he was anywhere near qualified to help her. Personally, Nozel wouldn’t have even asked his closest friend to help choose a betrothal gift; though Fuegoleon likely would’ve invited himself. Yet here Nozel was, at Kess’ request, helping her pick out a betrothal gift for Jon when he barely knew Kess or the Azure Deers Vice Captain outside of them being capable Magic Knights.

Nozel cleared his throat to say as much for the second time when a small explosion from a balcony down the way had them rushing to see what happened.

101.3.3

Coughing, Teris blinked through the dust and tried to focus her blurred vision. Though the ringing in her ears muffled most everything out, she managed to hear someone talking.

The voice said. “We only need the light magic user.”

Hearing the same, Venice shouted. “Teris! Get out of here!”

Teris was loathed to leave her friends. But if all they wanted was her, chances were it would be safer for her friends and trapped civilians if she left. Heart hammering, she thought of Yami. If they wanted her, did that mean there were others looking for him?

Her friends were close enough that she could light travel them all. Hoping she didn’t burn them too badly, Teris attempted to light travel them all to the Green Mantis sparring field where she knew Yami to be.

A cold prickle ran down her spine when she wasn’t able to. It was different from the negating effects of Calen’s magic. This felt more like a constraining barrier.

She looked up and saw herself crouching twenty paces away. Surreal as the sight was, Teris instantly realized Abril had used her transformation magic to take her form. So whatever was stopping her from light traveling wasn’t blocking all magic. That was good to know.

Teris shook her head at Abril trusting she would understand the message that they were stuck here. Never did she expect Abril to answer Venice in her stead.

“I can’t. They must have some sort of blocking thingy.” Abril hollered.

Knowing Teris would never refer to a magical block as a blocking thingy, Venice's face scrunched up. She turned, the two Teris’ giving her pause for a fraction of a second. Seeing Bran near the real Teris, she gave a tight smile and nodded.

Eyes on Abril, Venice said. “Guess we’ll have to make a run for it, Vice Captain. On your order.”

Abril blinked. As accustomed as she was to yelling about how she wanted things done, no one ever listened. She finally understood Gendry’s reasoning for wanting to become a better Magic Knight. It wasn’t because he had sold out to the system and wanted to move up the ranks. It was because he wanted to be of help to his friends.

“Now!” Another female voice commanded.

The four Black Bulls turned to see Kess and Nozel. Teris’ eyes widened, realizing what the newly arrived Silver Eagles were about to do.

“Move!” Teris ordered Venice and Abril as she grabbed a hold of Bran.

Thankfully Bran was already cloaked in mana skin. It made Teris feel less guilty for shoving him over the broken balcony railing. Without a moments pause, she jumped after him.

Nozel’s mercury rain could be made dense or sparse. The one thing he could not yet do was direct it so as not to strike comrades who were in the field of the silver drops. Kess used her shadow magic to form long arms that pulled and pushed citizens out of danger. The Silver Eagles Captain created a shield that blocked one of Nozel’s liquid metal drops from hitting Venice.

“Nozel. Cover the other one. Venice and I got Teris.” Kess ordered, moving to Abril.

Nozel wasn’t sure if his Captain realized that wasn’t the real Teris, but he did. Abril might be able to make herself look like Teris; but she moved nothing like Teris.

A magical eagle of mercury waiting to catch him, the Silver Eagle’s Vice Captain leapt over the balcony’s edge. He saw Teris battling someone a couple blocks away and flew over to assist. Knocking the man out from behind, Nozel made sure to cut the assailant with his mercury. If the man managed to regain consciousness before things calmed and he was arrested, mercury poisoning would slow him down.

Pulling Teris onto the mercury eagle with him, Nozel took back to the air. “Where’s Bran?”

“I sent him to the nearest Sentries station to contact Headquarters for back-up.” Teris answered.

Nozel shook his head. “Doubt they’ll have better luck. Captain Kess already tried to use her communication crystal to call for reinforcements.”

Teris cursed, having feared as much; but Bran was clever. He would know a communications block when faced with one and order whatever Sentries had magic capable of flight or other swift travel to get outside of the block and contact Headquarters. Till then--

Teris frowned. “Where are you taking us?”

Eyes scanning for attackers, Nozel told. “Outside of whatever block they have in place. I’m guessing that’s why you haven’t light traveled to safety; because whatever they’re doing to block communications is also blocking transportation spells.”

“No!”

“No?” Nozel glanced at her, brow furrowed.

Teris shook her head. “I mean, yes, they’re probably blocking transportation spells; I can’t light travel. But you can’t take us away! My friends--”

“You’re the one they want.” Nozel cut in.

“And Abril was left behind looking exactly like me! Nozel, we can’t run. I’m their Vice Captain.”

Ignoring her, Nozel kept flying. Did Teris think he wanted to leave the others behind? It was his duty as a Magic Knight to protect the Clover Kingdom and its people, yet he had left injured civilians in need back there.

“Your Captain's back there.” Teris tried.

“Captain Kess ordered me to look after you.”

“Nozel—“

“My Captain's on the scene therefore my orders superseded yours.” Nozel snapped.

In that second of distraction, Nozel didn’t see the whirlwind that knocked his magical eagle off course. Crouching lower, Nozel widened his stance to keep his balance and fought to right their ride.

Unsteady from the tumbling eagle, there was nothing Teris could to when a lance of condensed air struck her. The world spiraled at a dizzying speed as she was sent flying off the eagle and through the air. Barely cloaking herself in mana in time, Teris landed on a tiled rooftop and rolled.

101.3.4

Bran was desperate and torn. He had to help his comrades. He had to help Teris. But his Vice Captain had given him clear instructions. After realizing a communication block was in place, Bran had ordered the Sentries capable of quick magical travel to get out of the communications block and inform Headquarters of the attacks; while commanding the rest of the Sentries to help the citizenry to safety.

Riding with a Sentry atop a large magically created lizard, Bran looked over his shoulder at the battling team of Sentries he had left behind among the sand dunes just outside of Raque. Guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders. He had now left not just his friend's and comrades, but two fights.

“If we come across more hostiles, you need to keep on going, sir. I’ll do my best to distract and hold them off.” The Sentry told Bran, sweating as he urged his magic to make the green glowing lizard move faster.

Though Bran understood it was because he was the only one who could give Headquarters more information about the attack; the thought of having to leave someone else behind made him feel even more like a failure.

Clutching the communication crystal the Captain of the area Sentries station had given him, Bran tried to think. This wasn’t like the Wild Fire and battle with Sorcery Lances from a couple months ago. Bran couldn’t assist his friends by battling these people with a deer. Even if a large sand cat or mid-sized sea fox had been near enough for his magic to seek out and control, it wouldn’t do much good. Not when the fight was in a large town.

Other than insects, Bran couldn’t control multiple creatures. He needed something more; but he had nothing more. All he could do was leave his friends and allies to fight, and hope he was able to fetch real help in time.

Yami had been wrong to show any interest and trust in him. He was weak. Even with all his training and all he had done. He was useless.

Tears stung Bran’s eyes at his own hated inadequacy. Some Magic Knight he was, left riding with a Sentry for help. With all the large fleet footed animals scared off further than his magics reach, he couldn’t even quickly get out of the communications block without assistance. He was undeserving of the promotion he got for his efforts a couple months back during the Wild Fire outbreak. He didn’t deserve to be a Third Class Intermediate Magic Knight. He didn’t even deserve to be a Magic Knight.

His grimoire, glowing and hovering beside him, suddenly brightened. The pages flipped of their own accord. A blank page came into being, added to the tome. Writing sparked into existence as a new spell appeared.

101.3.5

Breath knocked out of her, Teris coughed. Her rolled landing stopped at the feet of a scruffy faced, red haired man. Sucking in a gulp of air, she squinted up at him.

“Teris Nova.” The man said.

“If you think I’m Teris Nova you’re in for a disappointment” Teris said, noting the sword of swirling air he held.

“We’ll sort out which of you is the real one later. For now surrender and come with me, and I’ll see no one else gets harmed.”

“And who might you be?” Teris asked.

“Commander Fanzell.” Fanzell said.

It was then that Teris noticed the diamond on his grimoire. Chastising herself for not catching it immediately, she said. “You’re a Magic Warrior.”

“I am.” Fanzell inclined his head.

Wondering how a team of Magic Warriors had gotten this deep into the Clover Kingdom, Teris said conversationally. “You’re a long way from home. Lost? You know you could’ve simply asked for directions.”

Fanzell’s blue eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to tell her to stop wasting time when Teris shot out a beam of light. The hit knocked Fanzell back to the next roof over.

Teris turned and sprinted in the direction of Nozel. She had wondered at his delay and now saw why. The Silver Eagle was still flying threw the air, only he was fighting a man on a cloud of smoke. Teris lept to the next buildings roof. As soon as she landed she was sent flying by a condensed burst of air.

Shaking his head clear, Fanzell rode a whirlwind after Teris. It was a chaotic way to travel, the wind tunnel difficult to control. As soon as he reached the roof she had landed on he hopped off the mini tornado and let it fade.

Pointing a magically created sword of wind down at her, Fanzell told. “I have no wish to harm you.”

Teris rolled over with a groan. Even cloaked in mana the hit had hurt. Fanzell watched her carefully, mindful of where Teris pointed her hands.

Acting as if she was still battling the pain and an unclear head, Teris quickly glanced at his stance. A large undulating shadow crossed overhead. It was a massive flock of seagulls, and they were descending.

Teris’ legs swung out just as Yami had taught her. She cloaked her legs in mana at the last moment, least the cloak alert Fanzell to what she was doing.

As Fanzell fell, Teris jumped to her feet.

Stunned, Fanzell looked up expecting Teris to have made a run for it again. Instead he saw Teris’ fist right before it met his face. Fanzell heard a crack. Nose broken, his hands cupped his bloody face. He cursed the pain and spotted vision, loosing sight of Teris.

Teris backed up as the mass of birds swooped and attacked Fanzell with claw and beak. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered at the sight. The birds were surely being controlled by Bran; but he was only able to control a single, what he called, higher mind creature at a time. Not having the time to ponder it, Teris hoped this meant Bran was safe and would soon get passed the block to contact Headquarters.

She spun around and looked for Nozel. She caught sight of him moments before he was knocked off his mercury eagle by the Smoke Mage. The eagle swooped and struck the side of a manor house in an attempt to catch him. Nozel, the eagle, and the Smoke Mage disappeared behind a canopy of trees growing on the hillside.

“Nozel!” Teris shouted and cursed when she tried and failed to light travel to him. Leaving Fanzell to Bran and the attacking seagulls, she took off running and leaping from roof to roof.

101.3.6

Venice glanced to the door where Abril and two Magic Warriors had disappeared, cursing that she and Kess hadn’t been able to hold all of them back.

Kess used her shadow magic to shield Venice from a magical attack.

“Thanks.” Venice called, eyes darting back to the enemy. She created a mirror that deflected an attack and directed it at one of the Magic Warriors. “Congratulations, by the way.”

Kess scowled as she sent a shadowy mass of arrows at their attackers. “For what?”

“Your betrothal.” Venice said.

“I don’t think now's the time for that.” Kess snapped.

“Well.” Venice shrugged, trapping a Magic Warrior in a mirror, “seeing as we may die. I didn’t want go to my grave having you think I was upset and not happy for you and Jon. You are happy about it, right? This isn’t something your parents are forcing you to do?”

“Will you shut up!” Kess shouted.

101.3.7

Running away from two Magic Warriors, Abril lept off a second floor landing. Her calculated drop was disturbed by two young boys. She landed on them, the three of them falling to the ground.

Abril got up only to trip and fall when her foot caught on some billowy fabric.

“Ow! How dare you! Let go!” A silver haired boy snapped when Abril tried to use him to steady herself.

“Get off!” Abril barked. She kicked the billowy, over-sized sleeve that belong to the shirt the red haired boy was wearing. The fine fabric tore as she ripped her trapped foot free.

“Will you—Teris?”

Abril blinked. Precious seconds wasted as she stared at the red haired boy before remembering the form she wore. “Yes?” She said, uncertainly.

“It is I. Kirsch.” The red haired boy placed a manicured hand gently to his chest.

Moment broken, Abril shook off the torn piece of silk. “Good for you. Now get off.”

“There she is!” One of Abril’s pursuers pointed down at her.

Abril’s head darted up. She rolled to her knees and pushed to her feet. “Nice to see you, Kirsch. Bye.”

Only she didn’t get very far. Feet tripping over the other boys legs, Abril fell again. Looking up at boy, she recognized a familiar familial stare of cold blue eyes and distinctive silver hair.

“Silva.” Abril growled.

“You’re not Teris.” Solid accused.

The echoing sound of footfalls descending the stairs rang loud in her ears. Abril planted a hand on the silver haired boys shoulder and pushed to her feet. “Don’t tell them that. Stay outta their way and get somewhere safe. Nozel’s orders.”

Solid blinked at the fake Teris who took off at a run.

Kirsch looked after her and declared. “How utterly unbeautiful!”

Neither young man noticed one of the Magic Warriors break off from the others and stalk toward them.

101.3.8

Teris slid between Nozel and Lotus. Nozel barely created a shield of mercury before a spatial attack hit, taking a large swath of mercury.

Lotus balked at the attack and turned. Seeing Galleo, he put his hands on his hips. “The order was to take her into custody. Not wipe her from existence.”

“She’s still alive. Isn’t she?” Galleo said.

Lotus looked down at Teris. “Sorry about that. Care to surrender?”

Teris kicked out trying to trip the Smoke Mage the same way she had done with Fanzell. Ready for either a physical or magical attack, Lotus saw the strike coming and hopped over her swinging leg.

“Figured that burly mate of yours would've taught you some--” Lotus’ voice cut out. He stumbled, Teris having kicked his left knee, hyper-extending it.

Nozel pulled Teris to her feet. His knees trembled under his own weight, much of his mana having been drained during his fight with Lotus.

“You alright?” Teris panted.

“Fine. You?” Nozel asked.

“Not dead yet.” Teris answered.

“Not funny.” Nozel grumbled. “That one has smoke magic.”

“Mine can spatial attack.” Teris said.

“I noticed.” Nozel replied.

“Care to switch?” Teris asked, figuring Nozel could block a few strikes till help came, or his mana recovered enough for him to do something other than defense. In any case he wasn’t going to last much longer if he continued fighting the Smoke Mage. “Or, I could take them both on--”

“No.” Nozel said, sounding as fatigued as he felt. Though he didn’t like the idea of not finishing a fight he started, Teris, though out of breath, seemed far from tired. If anything she seemed excited by the challenge; that had to be Yami’s and the Black Bulls influence he though in disgust. It was the fact that he had already lost so much mana in his fight with the Smoke Mage that decided it for Nozel. “I got the Spatial Mage. Just—don’t get too close to the Smoke Mage. He’ll siphon off your mana.”

Lotus smiled at Teris as Nozel stepped to the one called Galleo.

“I was beginning to wonder if I would ever meet the other half of the famous duo.” Lotus said. “Not much about work gets me excited. It’s more of a necessary hassle in order to keep the family housed and fed. But when the order came for this… I must admit to having some interest.”

“You’re the one Yami faced during the Battle at the Border.” Teris surmised. She wished Yami was here, and that they could still feed off each others mana the way they had back then. “He said you talked too much. Is that the only play you have? Disarm and delay with mindless chatter till your magic renders your opponent useless?”

Lotus shrugged lazily. “It’s worked for me thus far. Why change what isn’t broken?”

Teris released bit of her mana, magically heating up the air around her to the point that it burned off Lotus’ smoke. The man’s smoke had been so sparse and thin that she hadn’t been able to see it. But she sensed it as her mana made contact with it and it burned it away.

His siphoning smoke burned off, Lotus gave a weak smile his brow beading with sweat at the heat radiating from Teris’ magic. “My wife is pregnant with our second child.” He told.

“I’ll see you have a quill and paper so you can write to them from your cell.” Teris said.

“That would be appreciated.” Lotus said, readying his attack.

“Stand down or these two die.” Came a proud booming voice.

Teris turned, eyes widening.

“Solid!” Nozel blinked. His magical shield lowered, spears of mercury dissolving.

Still wearing Teris’ form, Abril struggled against magical bindings. “You leave Kirsch and my Intended’s brother alone!”

“That’s not the real one.” Galleo told his comrades.

The one holding Abril shoved her to the ground in disappointed disgust.

Fanzell dropped onto the scene, the whirlwind that brought him dissipating. Knowing the one he faced had been the real Teris by the light magic she had used, Fanzell ignored the bound woman his subordinate had pushed away, and took in the two other hostages. He didn’t like that innocent children had been brought into the mix and threatened. But now that it was done he had little choice other than to use it.

Ignoring the stinging cuts and gashes the flock of attacking birds had left, Fanzell gave the Spatial Mage a directive look through eyes made red and swollen from his broken nose. “Galleo.”

The man opened up a portal.

Fanzell turned to the real Teris. “Step through and I promise these two will be left unharmed.”

“Your promise means nothing to me.” Teris sneered.

“Brother!” Solid called, frantic eyes full of fear.

“It’s alright. Stay calm and quiet.” Nozel soothed. He looked at Teris. There was no way he was going to ask her to submit to the Magic Warriors commands; but these people had his younger brother and were threatening his life.

Teris glanced at Kirsch and Solid. Even if Kirsch wasn’t an extremely distant cousin or Solid Nozel’s brother, she would have submitted to protect them. She was a Magic Knight. The lives and well being of the Clover Kingdoms citizenry went before her own.

The tension in Fanzell’s shoulders eased when he saw Teris’ shoulders sag in defeat.

“Fine. But you and the rest of your squad of Magic Warriors have to leave the Clover Kingdom without harming another person.” Teris relented.

“No! I’m Teris Nova.” Abril shouted.

“Enough.” Teris ordered.

Abril fell silent, wide eyes stinging with tears at her worry and failure.

Teris turned to Fanzell.

“You have my word.” Fanzell swore.

Teris sighed. She didn’t know what the Commander’s word was good for; but it was all she had. Giving one last look at Abril, she ordered. “Don’t struggle or fight unless they break their promise.”

“Step through the portal.” Fanzell told Teris, eager to see his mission complete and his squad safely out of the Clover Kingdom.

Teris moved as slowly as she dared, hoping that someone had gotten through the communications block and assistance would appear.

The mage holding Solid by the throat squeezed causing the young royal to gurgle.

“Solid!” Nozel took a step toward his brother.

Fanzell made a noise of warning halting Nozel in his tracks. He scowled at his fellow Magic Warrior for choking the young innocent but turned the expression on Teris and instructed. “Hurry it up.”

Nozel glanced at the open portal and Teris, gauging the distance. Turning back to his brother, he told. “It’ll be alright, Solid. Just stay put. Don’t do anything. Listen to Abril until they leave and help arrives.”

Finding Nozel’s words curious, Fanzell turned to him. But he was too slow. Teris had just stepped through the portal and Galleo had begun to close it. Fanzell’s muscles tensed as the Silver Eagle rushed toward him. But the Magic Knight had no interest in him. Instead, Nozel sprinted passed him and dived through the closing portal.

Fanzell blinked at the portion of the mans royal blue cloak that laid on the ground where the portal had been. If Nozel had acted a split second latter he would have been cut in half.

“Brother!” Solid yelled, hand outstretched.

“Damn it! I’m sorry, Commander. Shall I open it back up and pull him out?” Galleo asked Fanzell.

Jaw tense, Fanzell tore his eyes away from the blue fabric. So much for a seamless mission. Not wanting to stay longer than necessary and chance facing further hostility, he told Galleo. “No. Inform the other teams we have our prey and get us out of here.”

“Sir.” Galleo nodded.

Fanzell looked back at the sliced off strip of fabric thinking that the Magic Knights were a loyal and amazing group. It made him wistfully envious. He doubted there was a single Magic Warrior that would take such a risk for one of their fellows.

“The teams are falling back and headed to the meeting point.” Galleo informed his superior.

“Good.” Fanzell bent and picked up the blue fabric, wrapping it around his hand.

“What of these three?” The Mage holding Solid and Kirsch asked.

“Bind the boys. We’ll leave them and the Magic Knight to be found.” Fanzell said.

The Mage gripped Solid and Kirsch tighter. “But, Sir--”

Voice dangerous, Fanzell looked at the man. “I gave my word. You’re not suggesting I go back on it out of sheer malice, are you?”

The Mage straightened. “No, sir.” He shared a look with Galleo the two thinking that the rumors were true. Their Commander had begun to weaken.

Fanzell stepped in front of Abril. “I need you to listen and relay a message to your superiors.”

“You give her back!” Abril yelled.

Fanzell used his magic to take just enough air out of Abril’s lungs so she couldn’t speak but was still cognizant. “Tell your superiors not to come for Teris Nova unless they want another war. You will have your Magic Knight—s,” He drew out the added ‘s’ of the amended plural, “back by the morning of the twelfth. If you cross the border into our kingdom, King Morris will not broker a peace as he did last time. He will not stop until your kingdom is purged of life and left in nothing but rubble and ash.” He saw the fearful turn in the her eyes, and felt the same at such a prospect. “Remember. The morning of the twelfth. My King just wants some time with Teris Nova to understand how she works. It is up to your kingdom to decide whether that is worthy of war or if you will keep the peace and wait four days.”

101.4

“Are you really that tired, Yami?” Jack taunted sending out a slash that sent the Black Bulls Vice Captain skidding backwards several meters.

“Hardly.” Yami grunted.

“He’s toying with you, Jack.” Tobin called, from the sidelines.

“More like letting you get a couple shots in as apology for the beat down you’re gonna get.” Yami corrected.

“Quit pretending your doing me any favors Bull Brains.” Jack cawed sending out two more strikes. “You’re faltering and trying to cover.”

“If I were faltering would I be able to do this?” Both hands gripping the hilt of his katana, Yami sent down a slash of darkness that had the Green Mantis leaping out of the way.

Rolling on the ground, Jack squinted at the kicked up dirt. He looked back to see downed trees and branches for more than six hundred meters.

Tobin stepped forward, worried Yami had lost himself to the Darkness.

Gendry’s head jerked back, eyes wide. Was that what he would be facing every other Monday? He knew Yami was powerful, but to send an attack like that during a simple sparring session…

Yami half lept, half rushed to his opponent and pointed his dark cloaked katana at Jack’s chest. “You were saying?”

Jack looked up at the Black Bull and cackled. “You’re insane!”

Yami lifted and sheathed the katana in its scabbard. “Thought your bony butt would appreciate that move.”

Jack pushed to his feet. “Let’s try it again!”

“No.” Yami shook his head.

Jack lifted his forearm, the magical scythe-like blade pointing at Yami’s neck. “Try it again or I slice you up.”

“You’re both insane!” Tobin declared, making his way onto the field. “Jack. Stand down.”

Sounding bored despite the magical weapon at his throat, Yami waved Tobin off. “Let him be. Beanstalk’s just embarrassed he lost.” He met Jack’s eye, all but daring the man to make a move and prove him wrong.

Jack cackled again and lowered his arm. “You act all tough, but one day I’ll slice you up, Yami. Only I want you to be at your best when I do.”

Yami made a derisive noise. “Yeah, yeah. Keep saying that—Jack.” Yami’s tone changed as he said the name. His right hand reached, gripping the hilt of his katana. “Don’t stand down.”

Jack’s eyes turned to Yami’s right hand, thinking the Black Bull decided to continue the fight. “What? You--”

Yami pulled the katana free. “A large group just appeared.”

“It’s probably some fellow Green Mantis’. En and Nix are expected back from a mission.” Jack said.

“No.” Yami said.

The Ki Yami suddenly sensed was far too near. These people hadn’t walked or flown closer; but simply appeared as if portaled. Never mind the fact that one of the mana sources coming from the group was massively powerful. There was no way the person was a member of the Green Mantis, not even the squads Captain.

“It’s Alowishus.” Yami cloaked his blade in darkness.

Alowishus Spade rose up out of the ground. Yami sent out several consecutive slashes which were blocked by a swirling mass of earth.

“Quick on the attack.” Alowishus praised, noting how fast Yami’s movements had become. “Not exactly the act of a hero though.”

“I’m no hero. I’m a Magic Knight Vice Captain and you’re a threat to this kingdom. Jack, with me. You two. Give the others a harsh welcome.” Yami told Tobin and Gendry.

“The others?” Tobin echoed. His face hardened at the sight of five others appearing through the overgrown tree line. “Right.” His size doubled as he stepped in the Agents of Chaos’ direction. “Gendry. Let’s go.”

“They want Yami. We should focus on getting him out of here.” Gendry said, glancing at his Vice Captain as Yami and Jack charged and attacked Alowishus.

“And how do you suggest we do that without taking out some of their number?” Tobin snapped. “Don’t question the Vice Captain's orders! He’s not Bronn. Yami will do more than have words or a well placed fist if you disobey.”

Yami and Jack tag teamed. One getting in close while the other made an opening. Still it wasn’t enough. Alowishus was just too strong. Yami shot a quick glance seeing Tobin and Gendry struggling and cursed. He should have known better than to think the four of them had a chance. The Negation Mage, Calen, was nowhere in sight meaning that Alowishus was secure in his victory and merely toying with them. That only served to make Yami angrier, his grip tightening on his katana’s hilt. Exhaling, Yami forced his hands to loosen letting the rage filled emotion flow through him. Acknowledging his anger while not focusing on it cleared his mind and centered his thoughts, emboldening his movements with decisive determination.

“Your getting your way, Jack!” Yami lept back, trading places with the Green Mantis. He planted his feet, gripping the katana’s hilt in both hands and raising it over his head. “Let’s try it again!” He repeated Jack’s earlier words right before he brought the dark cloaked blade down.

Jack, who had been in front of Alowishus, between him and Yami, lept to the side at the last moment. Despite being cloaked in mana the Green Mantis was dragged back a bit by the gravitational pull of the dark slash. Then blown out and away as Yami’s attack hit. Jack tucked his arms and tumbled, rolling up to his knees and skidding to a halt.

Seeing the devastation and power of the attack, Jack silently cursed; Yami must’ve just been funning with him in that first dark slash. Wait for me, you over muscled idiot, Jack thought. Don’t leave me in your shadow. I’ll rip you to shreds if you do.

“Master!” The Agents of Chaos yelled.

Yami didn’t even pause to take in the damage he might have caused Alowishus. He spun around to Tobin and Gendry, and commanded. “Tobin, go get back up. Gendry, to me.”

Tobin turned and sprinted away before Yami had even begun to say Gendry's name.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Misandre roared. She created a portal, hands reaching through the open gateway.

Tobin didn’t slow, trusting his comrades to protect his back.

Snarling, Yami sent out a slice of darkness that cut Misandre’s hands off so fast and clean it took the woman several heartbeats to realize what had happened. The hands, once belonging to Bronn, dropped to the ground, never reaching Tobin.

Glaring at the Spatial Mage, Yami growled. “Told you I would have those off you. Now, I can be done with that bastard and he can rest in peace.”

“Yami...” Gendry breathed, face losing color.

Yami turned in the direction Gendry was staring, his own eyes widening. Now that just wasn’t fair, Yami silently complained.

Jack moved closer to the two Black Bulls. “What is he? An earth mage or something.”

Or something, Yami thought watching the earth swirl and condense to form an arm, replacing the one Yami’s massive dark strike had taken from Alowishus.

“Ash to ash. Dirt to dirt.” Alowishus intoned, stepping out of the spiraling earth as it dissipated and fell. “The moral form is nothing but earth, and to the earth our weary husks eventually return.”

The solid ground the three Magic Knights were standing on became sinkhole. Before they could do anything, they were trapped up to their mid-thighs and stuck.

“You have your late Vice Captain's hands back, Yami. Now further prove your honor and come with me so your friends may be spared.” Alowishus stopped several paces in front of him. “You need my help, my boy. You won’t make it to the Ritual of Darkness without it.”

“I’m not your anything.” Yami sneered. He sent out three quick, successive dark cloaked strikes.

Alowishus held up a hand. The dark slashes stopped and hovered. Frozen still for a moment before they broke apart crumbling and fading to nothing.

Alowishus shook his head and sighed. “Difficult child. Come with me or your friends die.”

“Why not just take me by force? You’ve done it before. Could it be you’re afraid to awaken what’s inside me?” Yami asked, feeling the Dark force begin to stir.

“You may not be the cleverest, Yami. But you are a smart one. Do you truly think I fear you?” Alowishus asked, well aware Tobin had almost reached the Green Mantis’ base.

“Probably not, but you should.” Yami said.

“Master.” Clint called. “Misandre is losing a lot of blood despite Slade’s bindings. If she’s to be able to get us out of here, we must leave.”

“Then leave.” Alowishus snapped.

“Master! We can’t leave you!” Clint expressed, face full of concern.

“Return to Sanctuary and await my arrival as you were told. I will tend to Misandre after my return. Till then she will simply have to endure.” Alowishus looked at his followers. “Now.”

Reluctantly, Misandre opened a portal. The gateway took a couple seconds to form and was slow to expand large enough for a person to fit through.

Yami couldn’t help a perverse smirk of achievement at seeing the Spatial Mages difficulty in creating something that should have been as easy as taking a step or any other function that occurred by mere will.

“You enjoyed that.” Alowishus commented, watching Yami. “My followers hardship.”

Yami eyes snapped back to Alowishus. “With the amount of hardship she and the rest of you have put us through, it’s about time you got some in return. I’m not going with you, by the way. So you can crumble to dust and die.”

Alowishus frowned. “Why must you make things so difficult, my boy?”

“I already told you. I’m not your anythi—oui!” Yami snapped, Jack and Gendry's muffled gags stealing his attention.

Dirt gathered and rose up from the ground, entering Jack and Gendry's mouths and nostrils. The two coughed and gagged. But it was no use, the invading earth was choking the life out of them.

“Stop it!” Yami barked. He tried to pull his legs free but the ground held firm. He swiped at the swirling mass as it entered Jack, but the mass only reformed and continued to obey Alowishus’ will.

“Can’t you see that I am only trying to help you?” Alowishus asked, tone wounded and sympathetic. “If you go on like this, you will lose yourself to the Darkness inside.”

Yami glared murderously at Alowishus. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Eventually.” Alowishus admitted. “Right now, we both want the same thing. For you to fight this force off and remain yourself.”

Yami’s eyes flicked black. Gritting his teeth he battle down the Darkness about to boil over. “Let them go.”

“Will you come?” Alowishus asked.

Yami saw Gendry's eyes roll and begin to glaze. “Fine!” He yelled. “You have my word. Now let them go!”

With a victorious grin, Alowishus lifted his hand, palm up. His fingers curled one after the other in a beckoning motion.

Yami watched the earth change its course and fly out of his friends lungs. Jack and Gendry sagged, gasping and coughing.

“Let’s go.” Alowishus smiled.

Before Yami could say or do anything, he was swallowed up by the ground.

101.5

In the quietness after Nozel and Teris’ argument the Silver Eagle had difficulty meeting Teris’ hard, angry glare.

Once they had figured out they had been portaled to a mana blocked cell with no means of escape, Teris had chewed Nozel out. In her fear for Nozel, Teris had called out his stupidity in following her through a closing portal. Her concern for her friends, and worry over Fanzell keeping his word had her chastising Nozel for his lack of care in his duty to protect the citizens of the kingdom.

Nozel naturally snapped back. No one questioned his dedication to his duty. His brooding emotions over what he had walked in on three days ago, the image of Yami and Teris still haunting his mind, had Nozel responding harsher than intended.

Surprised by his vehemence but not one to back down, Teris had snapped back at him. A heated argument had devolved from there. When Nozel called out her hypocrisy, saying she would’ve done the same in his place, Teris had changed tactics.

Teris had been glaring daggers at him for what felt like forever, though realistically Nozel knew it couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes. Much as Nozel hated being scolded like some child, Teris’ silent treatment was so much worse; leading him to ask. “What would you have had me do? Let you to come here alone?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what I would have had you do!” Teris expressed. Her eyes drifted to the missing part of Nozel’s squad cloak for the thousandth time, her fear and anger at his foolishness reigniting.

“It’s always the same with you, isn’t it?” Nozel complained.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Teris questioned, heatedly.

“You’re always judging me more harshly than anyone else. As if I’m suppose to be some perfect person.”

“You’re the one who constantly presents yourself as a perfect person.” Teris accused.

Nozel sighed, this was getting them nowhere. He looked about the cell, unable to look at Teris any longer. “So what do we do now?”

“Why ask me? What was it you said? Your Captain's on the scene therefore your orders superseded mine.”

Nozel glowered and muttered under his breath. “Ill tempered, hot headed brat.”

“What’s that?” Teris asked, not having heard.

“I said you’re an ill tempered, hot headed brat!” Nozel snapped.

“If that’s how you feel then why did you follow?” Fanzell questioned, from the other side of the cell door.

Teris and Nozel turned to the Magic Warrior, neither having noticed his appearance in the heat of their argument.

“It sure would have saved us some trouble if you had stayed behind.” Fanzell went on, thinking of the discipline he would endure for letting the Silva Prince throw himself into custody; as if he had known at the time that the young man was heir to the Clover Kingdoms second royal House.

“If you’re looking for an apology for your troubles look elsewhere. You’re not getting one from us.” Teris told.

“Figured as much. Ill tempered, hot headed brat that you are.” Fanzell teased.

“Only he gets to call me that.” Teris said, head tilting toward Nozel.

“Who? Your Prince?” Seeing the Magic Knights expressions, Fanzell nodded. “Yeah. I know who you are... I do now.” He mumbled.

“Then you know they will come for me.” Nozel said.

“For both our kingdoms sake's, I hope not. I hope those two kids and the Magic Knight that was trying to pass as you,” Fanzell inclined his head toward Teris, “relayed the message I gave, and your superiors believe and heed and my words.”

“What words were those?” Teris asked.

“That you will be released and returned on the twelfth.” Fanzell answered.

“You lie.” Nozel challenged.

Fanzell’s eyes hardened. “My King, unlike yours, doesn’t posture and lie.”

Teris wanted to ask about Yami but was afraid to. As if bringing him up would remind their captors of his existence and endanger him. She couldn’t sense Yami’s mana and hoped it was an effect of the spell put on the mana blocked cell.

“What is it you want?” Teris asked.

“That I don’t know.” Fanzell said, thinking he didn’t want to know either.

There were things going on in the Diamond Kingdom. Rumors. Whispers like the barest of breaths and breezes. Things that hinted at augmented magic and mutilated grimoires. Of groups of kids taken from the training grounds and never seen or heard of again. To all this Fanzell turned a blind eye and deaf ear, not wanting to know even a hint of what might be going on. His soul was tormented enough as it was.

“It doesn’t matter what threats you gave. They will come.” Nozel said.

“That’s what King Morris believes as well.” Another voice said from down the hall.

Fanzell stepped back from the cell door and turned. “Lotus. What is this?”

“Sorry, Commander.” Lotus apologized, expression truly sorrowful. “We’ve been told that His Majesty has decided to send the Prince back.”

Fanzell looked from Lotus to Galleo who walked behind the Smoke Mage. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

“Why indeed?” Galleo responded with a disapproving stare of accusation at Fanzell.

Fanzell swallowed, throat bobbing. There was only one reason why his superiors would skip informing him when he had just come from their offices. The open display of lack in faith was chilling.

Fanzell cleared his throat. “If you have orders, I suggest you carry them out.”

“I’m not leaving her.” Nozel told, voice commanding in its volume and timber.

“You don’t have a choice, little Prince.” Galleo smirked, clearly enjoying carrying out his commands.

“Morris doesn’t want a war. He merely wants the girl.” Lotus said.

It was difficult for Fanzell to tell, but it appeared as though Lotus didn’t care for this any more than he did. Then again it could simply be Lotus’ usual tired lack of interest in anything. It was hard to say.

“You can’t have her.” Nozel told, positioning himself in front of Teris.

Fanzell noticed the way Teris merely stood by, appearing to have already accepted her fate.

“We already do have her.” Galleo taunted. “It’s you we no longer want. Didn’t and shouldn’t have had you in the first place.” Though it had been his portal the young royal had jumped through, he cast an accusatory glance at Fanzell.

“Morris has been told that with just one of you taken, your King Agustus and Wizard King will wait until the twelfth to act, in hopes of staving off a war.” Lotus said.

“Told by who?” Nozel questioned.

“Especially if we give back the heir to House Silva.” Galleo put in.

“I want to know who told King Morris that.” Nozel demanded.

“You will be portaled back to the gates of your Castle City. Unharmed.” Lotus said, turning to Galleo at the final word as if to remind the man.

Seeing Lotus step near the cell door, Nozel readied his stance. “Good luck with that. The moment you open that door the mana block on this cell breaks and your--”

Teris placed a hand on Nozel’s shoulder causing him to fall silent. He glanced back at her.

At her sad expression, Nozel questioned. “Why are you looking at me like that? We’re getting out of here. Just don’t kill or knock out the Spatial Mage. We need him to get us home.”

Teris hugged him, tightly.

Nozel was so shocked that he remained still and speechless.

“Tell Yami, Julius, and the Bulls not to do anything stupid.” Teris breathed against his ear.

Nozel felt her give a humorless smile.

“At least not until they’ve clearly broken their word about returning me.” Teris pulled away and meet his eyes. “Then, if you want, you can do all the stupid things you wish to get me out of here.”

Nozel stared at her in confusion. “Teris. I’m not leaving yo--”

“It’s not your fault.” Teris said over his words. “You did all you could. Going so far as to jump through a closing portal. Stupid as it was. Thank you.”

“Teris. It’s not over--”

Teris placed her fingers to Nozel’s lips, silencing him. “I don’t want to be the cause of a war. If you stay and get injured or killed while we’re trying to break free, there will be one. House Silva’s pride will demand it.” Nozel gripped her wrist, tearing her tender fingers from his lips. “I’m not doing this with you right now! Get ready to fight! That’s an order.”

He turned around to face the three Magic Warriors. It was then that he remembered a magic blocked cell didn’t necessarily block outside magic from entering.

Teris stepped back.

Nozel’s head snapped back around to her, hand outstretched. “Teris!”

Nozel disappeared, swallowed by Galleo’s portal. Teris’ eyes squeezed shut, willing herself not to cry. Her trembling lips pressed together. As fearfully angry as she had been at Nozel for his thoughtless action in following her; she had been selfishly grateful not to be alone.

“You’re a brave one.” Lotus remarked. “I wonder how I might’ve fared at the Battle at the Boarder if faced against you and not your counterpart.”

Thinking she was anything but brave, Teris asked. “You’re not after him. Are you?”

“Yami?” Lotus questioned. “Our only orders were to capture you, little miss. Now, if you don’t mind.” He dangled a spelled cuff that blocked magical transport. “Put your hand through the bars.”

I’ll be recovering from my monthly infusion of “poison juice” this week, so if you wanna make a blah week brighter and bring a smile to my face I’d appreciate some feedback. Thanks!

Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently commented or re-blogged. It really means a lot. Also, I’ll be taking a week off.

Next chapter snippet:

Tears prickled Teris’ eyes. Her entire body felt as if it were engulfed in Wild Fire. The palm of her hand so hot and seared that it was incapable of feeling anything. Anything other than constant dull burning pain with the occasional sharp, gut wrenching stab that kept her mind from being able to tune it out.

#yami sukehiro #nozel silva #fanzell kruger #jack the ripper #solid silva #lotus whomalt #kirsch vermillion #Black Clover #light in the darkness

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softly-savage-mint-yoongi · 4 years

Photo

Saccharine

from An Adventurer’s Guide to Romance

Part 3 of the series collaboration between myself & @guardians-of-exo! Please go check out her blog! Her moodboards are *chef’s kiss* magnificent and this go around she has listened to all of my ramblings about Won Deuk Kyungsoo in 100 Days My Prince, which I binge watched in a week just to help me write this. If you haven’t seen it yet- go watch it. <3 Pairing: Kyungsoo x reader Rating: Fluff. Nothing too smutty or excessively graphic in this one, lads. Words: 7.2k

“Chanyeol, no,” you immediately protest, frowning at him from across the sparring field. He ducks your jab with the training sword, spinning behind you and using his momentum to make a swing for your exposed back. You bend your torso down and to the left, gracefully avoiding his hit. “Chanyeol, yes,”, he replies with a laugh. The mirth in his voice suits him. Here, in one of his favorite places. Sparring with you, his second-in-command and sisterly figure. Rolling your eyes at him, you continue your dance, “She’s a distraction.” You shake the sweat from your fingers, gripping the smoothed wood of your swords and settling into a defensive stance with both. He comes at you with a grin, smacking his wooden great sword down against your crossed ones over your head. He stares you down, “She’s exactly the focus I need, actually.” The Knight Captain believes he’ll overpower you like this, with his height and weight and giant sword bearing down against you. The expression he mocks you with is wiped off his face when you tilt just enough to the right to slide out from beneath his weight. He used too much trying to force you down; now losing his balance and catching the edge of your swords with the flat side of his just in time to avoid a strike. ______________________________________________________ The following morning after roll call you cannot find your commander anywhere in the barracks or the training yard. You were sure he was with the Prince and even walked up all of those stairs to his majesty’s tower. The guards let you pass easily, because, well, you well outrank any of them except for Chanyeol. You’re disappointed when a knock on the door reveals a sleepy Prince Baekhyun, rubbing the remnants of it from his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry your majesty,” you say formally, bowing before him. He smiles through his haze at you, knowing behind closed doors those stiff formalities drop altogether. “I thought Knight Captain Chanyeol was with you.” He shakes his head and covers his mouth to yawn, “No, I haven’t seen him since late last night when I got in fr-“ he freezes, realizing where he is and who can hear him. Your eyes widen at him and your frame sags with relief just a little bit when he realizes the nonsense he’s speaking. “Sorry to disturb you, then. I’ll be off,” you bow once more, turning to hunt elsewhere for your leader. When you enter the Medical wards, the Head Physician tells you she hasn’t seen him, either. An hour later, he is found at last. In the kitchens, bothering the Head Chef and flirting with his new assistant while she tries to work. Work, like Chanyeol should be. “Knight Captain Chanyeol,” you say loudly, giving him a stern glare. “I have been looking all over this palace for you!” The Cook’s assistant, a pretty thing, looks between the both of you with wild eyes and a blush staining her cheeks, her fingers wrapped tightly around a whisk of cream in a bowl. The Head Cook himself is watching you silently from the spits, basting a row of pheasants over the fire. There’s just a hint of a smile at the corner of his plush mouth. Chanyeol looks at you with a frown, “I was with Baekhyun!” You sneer at him, pointing a finger at his chest in triumph, “Oh you big fat liar! I just walked all the way up there and heard from him myself that he hasn’t seen you! He was still asleep.” Chanyeol whines lowly, raising to fist the side of his own head, “Ah, shit.” “Come on,” you urge. “I apologize he keeps bothering you, Master Cook,” you comment, bowing slightly before you grab the tall man by the black fabric against his back and drag him from the room. ___________________________________________ That evening, in the comfort of your best friend’s room, you’re sipping wine and slowly picking apart a wheel of cheese between you. “He keeps going to the kitchens and flirting with the new assistant. I don’t think that’s all, either.” The Lady of the Palace smiles at you, “Oh come on now, let him have his fun.” You give her an incredulous stare, “Absolutely not. We have a code of conduct to uphold and a war to fight and he’s going to get into trouble.” “It’s not a war, don’t be so dramatic. Relax a little, I know you’re worried about him but he’s also working really hard. We all are,” she says calmly. Bringing her own cup to her lips briefly, she drinks before continuing, “I’ve seen him in the training yard in the middle of the night several nights in a row.” “Yeah,” you agree. “Because he’s waiting for our troublesome Prince to come clambering back over the walls.” She nods in understanding. There are a select few of you in the palace who know about Prince Baekhyun and his personal mission to save his own people from poverty and famine brought by the Draugers. As they slowly began to run people out of their homes in the lower parts of the kingdom and farms were beginning to be overrun with the undead at night, he took it personally and his father, the King, has his hands tied in the dilemma. The power-hungry Lords in the upper parts of the city, and even some of the working-class citizens, are taking unfair advantage of the homeless farmers and their families moving into the safety of the inner city’s walls. Baekhyun- watchful, observant and daring Baekhyun, who is fair and just and will someday make a great King, takes it upon himself to save them. He watches, or has ears and eyes in the city to watch and listen for him. He knows who is in need and who is not. Having grown up a skilled fighter and a professional at sneaking in and out of the palace since he could walk, he’s been using his skills to make right ever since. His mysterious heroism just started a few weeks ago. It’s a secret you will all take to your graves unless he tells you otherwise. “Anyway,” she says. “I don’t think you should be too hard on him as long as he is doing his job.” You sigh, considering her opinion, “I suppose. But I don’t like that he’s distracting someone else from their work.” She shrugs, “Does Kyungsoo seem bothered by it?” You chew your lip, “I don’t think so. But you know Kyungsoo. He doesn’t get bothered by much, or at least doesn’t speak up about it.” Smiling, you remember his reaction earlier this morning. “He looked to think it was funny that I scolded Chanyeol this morning.” The Lady of the Palace leans forward in her chair, “Oh? How so?” “He smiled at me,” you answer. She sets her goblet on the table between you, “He smiled at you?” “Yes?” you say, tone uncertain now that she’s questioning it. “I’ve never seen him smile at anyone other than Chanyeol,” she surmises, her delicate brows knitting together. She stares blankly at the cheese while she tries to remember a time she may have seen him with that expression. ___________________________________________________ Today, as is becoming a regular annoyance, Chanyeol disappears after roll call in the barracks, leaving you to separate a pair of green soldiers fighting over the last link of sausage at the table. It's still early for the rest of the palace, but you have an inkling he’s in the kitchens again. When you enter with lungs full of hot air to unleash upon him, the monstrous Knight Captain is nowhere to be found. Instead, you’re greeted by the Head Cook himself stirring a pot. The scent of its contents hit your nose and you smile in greeting, “That smells delicious.” Kyungsoo lifts his head at the sound of your voice as if he were expecting someone else. “Would you like to try some? It’s a new recipe and I’m not sure about it,” he says after hesitating for a moment, with eyes flitting across the room until they settle upon your face. Immediately his voice strikes you in an odd way. Its deep and soft tenor equally compare to the scent coming from the pot. You think both are quite lovely. It’s not that you’ve never heard him speak, but you’ve not heard much from his voice other than simple pleasantries or reprimanding words for Chanyeol. You’re shocked and admittedly a little flustered that he so casually offered his spoon to you. His eyes are sincere as he watches you. The spoon is frozen midair- lifted with a bite crested in the shallow pit and waiting. Some of it drips back into the batch below, and you cough. “Ah, no thank you. I’ve already eaten and don’t want to spoil my stomach,” you explain shyly. His eyes fall back to his task immediately. His thick brows furrow as he concentrates on stirring. “Is there something I can help you with then, Lieutenant?” he asks without looking up. Realizing you’d been standing there watching him, you smooth your palms down the front of your tasset, “Oh, right. I was hoping to find the Knight Captain here. Not that I was hoping he was bothering you but I thought maybe this would be a good place to start looking since he disappeared after roll call.” Kyungsoo turns to you and lets his eyes flick to your face again briefly. The faintest smirk is tucked into the corner of his plush lips, “He was here, but he left to help Kennel Master Sehun carry two sacks of bones down to the dogs.” “Good,” you state. When Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything further you feel embarrassed all over again, “Not good that he was here bothering you but good that he’s not being a pest, I mean.” The Head Cook laughs. He smiles fully, making a whispered sound of joy at your awkward floundering, “It’s okay, you don’t have to keep explaining.” You barely understand what he says to you. You’re much too caught up in how nice his full smile is. The way his cheeks rise to make his eyes crinkle and his lips split into a heart shape that shows his teeth. “Right then,” you gasp, blinking twice. On the walk down to the kennels, your brain wonders about Kyungsoo and how unlike him it is to talk or smile. You wonder if perhaps he has always been that way but you never had the chance to see it. Now that you recall, there was always someone else holding everyone’s attention with a story or a joke. Perhaps this color on him looks so nice that you want to explore it. Now that your commander has reason to go to the kitchens constantly, it mean that you also now have a reason to frequent them in chase of him. To yourself, you admit that maybe it isn’t such a bad thing if it means you get to see Kyungsoo smile more. __________________________________________________ Two days later you’re awoken by a loud clanging from outside your chamber in the middle of the night. You jolt upright, immediately swinging open your door to investigate, but there isn’t a soul in the corridor or outside when you peek into the training yard. Quietly, you open doors to look into the two rooms immediately beside yours, but there is nobody other than heavily sleeping soldiers in bunks. The moment your fingertips brush the iron ring of your own door handle, the faint sound of feet hitting the stone makes your head turn sharply to squint into the darkness. The footfalls are heavy and flat, easily distinguished to know the person is barefoot. The figure passes by one of the windows looking into the training yard, and the blue moonlight gives you a flash of shaggy silver hair and a sharp jaw. A preview of the naked, broad shoulders that come to stop in front of you. “Why are you standing out here?” Chanyeol asks. His voice is not yet roughened from sleep, and even the moon does him no favors to hide the circles beneath his eyes tonight. You look behind you once. “A loud noise woke me up,” you explain. He nods, turning his lips into a deep line that puts dimples in his cheeks. “Sorry about that. I stepped into a bucket,” he sighs. Then adds, “I’m glad you’re awake though. I’ve got orders for you.” _________________________________________________ While you didn’t sleep well, you manage to make it through roll call without taking anyone’s metaphorical heads, and your brotherly Knight Captain was surprisingly present. In six days you’re leaving for a mission, orders directly from the King himself. According to what your commander told you, there’s an Apothecary coming to town to assist in healing those in need from the Draugers. With something as valuable as medical supplies and another set of healing hands, there’s worry it could be dangerous, so he wants the Apothecary well-guarded. During lunch, you catch the scent of something familiar. At the sight of the soup in your bowl, you realize it’s the new recipe Kyungsoo had asked you if you’d like to try earlier in the week. Smiling, you lift the first bite to your lips. From the taste and texture, you consider the broth has a heavier flavor. Something smoked and savory, soaking well into the chunks of potato throughout. There is just a little too much black pepper for your preference, but it does not take away from the dish overall. Still curious at the meals end, you find yourself walking into the kitchens. The Head Cook is balancing a ladle on the edge of a table when you enter. He looks up and gives you a small smile. “Did you eat well?” he asks calmly. You grin at him in return, “Are you awaiting my review of your not-so-sure soup?” You both laugh at the name you’ve given it, but Kyungsoo says nothing else. “It was very good. A little too much pepper for me personally, but that doesn’t really make or break it. What did you put in it to make that deep flavor though? Surely there were no heavy meats in my bowl,” you wonder aloud, leaning to rest your bum against the side of the large stone fireplace. Kyungsoo smirks, crossing in front of you to collect a jar from the shelf hanging above the largest work table in the center of the room. He unties the lid and comes back to you, stepping close to hold the jar beneath your nose. His wide eyes don’t miss anything as they watch you inhale the scent with closed eyes. “Yes, that’s it,” you clarify, eyes popping open brightly. The Head Cook smiles, “It’s a secret.” Your mouth drops into a pouted frown, “Oh.” His lips split into that full smile again, and it makes your breath catch. “I’ll tell you on one condition,” he whispers. You perk up again, looking around the wide expanse of the empty room. “I need an honest opinion of new recipes,” he says quietly. Those big brown eyes of his are still staring into you innocently, and it is a gaze you feel comfort in. Confused, you ask, “Why not Chanyeol?” to which Kyungsoo scoffs. “There are a multitude of reasons why,” he quips, and you can’t help but agree and laugh when you think about it. “Deal,” you comply happily, taking his hand in yours and forcing him to shake. “Beef drippings,” Kyungsoo divulges immediately. It takes you a moment to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh. I wouldn’t have thought of that,” you answer, knitting your brows and considering the taste. After a moment of silence, Kyungsoo clears his throat, “That tickles. May I have my hand back, please?” Shocked, you realize you’d never let go of his hand, idling running your fingers around the callouses on his palm while you thought about the not-so-sure soup. You drop it as if it had burned you, rising to your feet in embarrassment and excusing yourself too quickly from the room. ______________________________________________ The following day you eat with the rest of your squad in the mess hall. Your plate differs from the rest of the soldiers dining. One of them leans over when you sit, his chin flicking toward your plate of greens, fruits and nuts. He asks, “You on a diet or something, Lieutenant?” You laugh loudly at his remark, waving a hand in front of your face, “Yes! Yes, I am. That’s why it’s different!”

He grunts, leaning back to his own plate of light meats and sops. The colorful assortment of food on your plate doesn’t gain any further attention as you pour the wine-colored vinaigrette over the greens and assess the flavors as you chew the first bite. You feel a sense of push and pull between wanting to eat quickly so you can meet with Kyungsoo about this food and watch him light up with your praise, and wanting to savor every bite slowly to truly examine the taste. __________________________________________ Two days later you enter the kitchens with a brief knock. The aroma of honeyed glaze fills your lungs, exhaling with a delighted sigh. There’s an excitement in your step as your eyes look for Kyungsoo, stopping short when they land on his assistant standing in front of you. She looks bewildered by your presence and a little confused, turning to the Head Cook. “Ah, I’m sorry,” you begin. “I was looking for Knight Captain Chanyeol. I thought he might be here begging for food-“ you explain too quickly. Kyungsoo moves away from the hot kettles, wiping his brow as he grins at you, knowing very well that you know precisely where he is, and that couldn’t possibly be the reason you’re here. He pats his assistant on the shoulder warmly. “Good day, Lieutenant. Thankfully, he hasn’t,” he says calmly, pausing to add. “But I’m sure he’ll show up later.” The question lacing his statement is one that cracks a smile on your own face, earning him the dusty rose that rises to your cheeks. Suddenly, the assistant murmurs a curse and rushes to a kettle as its contents try to boil over the sides. Her action breaks the bit of unspoken words between you and the handsome Head Cook quickly. You pat your tasset down against your thighs with a smile, “Right. I’ll take my leave then. I’m sorry I disturbed your work, Master Cook.” You’re sure to smile warmly at his assistant as well before you turn to leave the room completely. An hour later you return to the kitchens as nonchalantly as possible, first peeking through the crack in the door to make sure Kyungsoo is alone. There’s a voice singing softly coming from the room, and you stop to listen when you realize it’s the Cook himself. You watch the hard plane of his back as he works, bent over the pork he was roasting in honeyed glaze earlier, singing the ballads of Red Run Keep and the Age of Oppression. His voice is soothing to your ears, more pleasant than the scent of the honey glazed meat he slices evenly and plates for Supper tonight. You enter the room as quietly as possible, sneaking in to lean back against the edge of a table along the wall while you listen. He turns around not long after you’ve settled, remaining calm rather than jumping like you would expect. His eyes lift from his work to your frame. “Is there something you needed, Lieutenant?” he asks. You laugh, “Yes, actually.” “Good. I hope you’re not trying to be a distraction just like your commander,” he jests, but it makes you freeze, feeling like you’ve been struck, and a little self-conscious regardless of the joke. Your smile falls from your lips a fraction, and Kyungsoo’s eyes don’t miss the way you wilt. “I was joking. I enjoy your company, no matter the reason,” he states clearly while he busies himself washing and drying his hands. “I have a mission,” you get to the point. He slows his movements, thick brows knitting together as he dries the last of the water from his hands with the rag tied to his smock. “I leave in two days.” “Can I ask what for?” he inquires, coming to stand beside you, leaning against the same table. You nod, “The King has hired a new Apothecary to help with the wounded. I’m leading a squad to fetch him and bring him here safely.” Kyungsoo nods, “He doesn’t want Chanyeol to go?” With a sigh, you confirm, “We all know Chanyeol’s main focus in the Prince. He can’t go and leave Baekhyun unguarded. Do you doubt my abilities, Master Cook?” His innocent gaze whips to your face immediately, full of surprise. Your eyes pierce through his gaze as if they were your swords themselves. “No, not at all. I’ve heard the stories. I know you’re more than capable,” he assures you. You squint at him, discerning the color of blush tinting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Good,” you surmise with an air of absolute finality. Kyungsoo seems to notice the tension in your posture and the way your attitude shifts to one of authority. “What do you need from me?” he asks politely, standing to his full height again. You bring a finger to tap against your lips twice, “I wanted to let you know. I hope you can wait a few days to make any new recipes.” You feel a little sullen, still self-conscious about whether or not the handsome man was really telling a joke. Kyungsoo folds his arms across his chest, bringing one hand to wipe at his chin thoughtfully, “I suppose I can wait. I appreciate you letting me know.” ________________________________________________ “I can’t believe he said such a thing,” says the Lady of the Palace. She twirls a goblet of wine between her fingers, gently swirling its contents with her wrist. You tear off a bite of crusted bread with your teeth from the piece in your hand, “It is what it is.” She sets her cup down, clapping her hands excitedly as she sits up straight and fixes you with a devilish smirk, “I know! You should go on a date with Sehun!” You choke on the dry crumbs of bread in your mouth, gasping briefly in shock. “What are you on about? Why would I do that?” you sputter, taking a full swallow of wine from your cup. You wince from the sour bitterness as it slides down your throat. The Lady of the Palace laughs cheerfully, “Oh, come on, Y/N! He thinks you’re amazing. Especially how well you handle a sword! If Kyungsoo likes you the same way you like him, it should make him jealous.” She wiggles her perfectly manicured brows at you. Sinking further in the velvet chair, you shake your head with a scowl, “No. It’s a waste of time. I’m not interested in the Kennel Master like that.” “But Sehun-“ she tries, pouting at you from under her lashes as she sips at the wine in her glass. “I said no. Chanyeol is bad enough with his lovestruck puppy eyes. I don’t want to be compared to that any more than I already have been,” you warn. She clicks her tongue at you, “You’re right, okay? I get it. But it’s, ah… how to put this?” She considers, breaking a chunk of bread from the loaf between you. “Those feelings won’t go away so easily. It’s better not to resist them.” You deadpan, staring at her like there’s an extra head sprouting from her shoulders. She smiles at the bread, toying with it in her hand softly before she pops it into her mouth. When she swallows, she looks at you again, “That’s why you should go out with Sehun.” You groan aloud, “You’re insatiable.” “No, I just think it would be fun to double date with Junmyeon and I,” she clarifies with her strong air of dignity. “Fun isn’t something you normally have time for,” you comment with as much snark as you can muster. She smiles, tilting her head to one side briefly, “Correction- fun isn’t something I thought I had time for. Now that I’m having it, I can definitely see how much I actually needed it, and I for one am quite confident I can manage my duties and my romance, thank you.” She clears her throat, sitting up a little straighter. You roll your eyes dramatically at her, “I’ll admit he’s handsome, is that what you wanted?” Her lips stretch into a menacing smile, and it scares you a little how unlike her it looks across her face. “It’s a start. Now I only must get you to agree to a date with him,” she tells you honestly. You laugh at her boldness. She’s always been a terrifyingly smart tactician. She must be, to be the Lady of the Palace, and she runs the place with a kind but firm fist. You smile fondly at her because she’s your friend and you enjoy the relationship you two have as the most influential women in the palace. With her mind and knowledge of how to run a kingdom and your and power and leadership in war, you make a powerful combination. _________________________________________________ Uncertain whether it was the wine or your scuffed pride you ultimately, reluctantly, agreed to go on one outing- not a date- with the Kennel Master of the palace, along with your friend and her lover. In this moment, two evenings later, you feel strange as you walk back to the palace in silence. Two pairs of boots in unmatched pace walking along the wet road beneath the lamplight. It is hot and muggy and the dress you’re wearing is irritatingly itchy. Of course your dear, lovely, well-mannered and closest friend decided to go back to the Bakery with Junmyeon when you mentioned the hour and that you were leaving for a mission in the morning. Kindly, Sehun had agreed to walk you back. It is with a sigh of relief that the palace walls come into view. You cross under the iron gate in silence, turning to acknowledge the man giving you six feet of space. “Look, Sehun,” you begin with your best smile. He removes one of his hands from the pockets of his trousers, holding the palm flat up and smiling so hard that his eyes crinkle into half-moons and his cheeks dimple, “It’s okay, Y/N.” He laughs after, rubbing the same hand against the back of his neck and looking toward the ground. His hair is slicked back from his forehead, a style that compliments his features. “You’re very handsome, but I’m sorry, I don’t think I feel that way about you,” you apologize, feeling awkward. He laughs again, and the sound of it makes you feel a little better, “Yeah, I mean, I think you’re really amazing, but I agree. I think we’d be better as friends.” The weight and sticky feeling of the tension dissipates immediately after he says it. “I am happy with friends,” you say. “Half of this is Junmyeon’s fault anyway,” he laughs some more. “Always fussing at me about wanting grandchildren soon.” You laugh with him, aghast at his best friend’s antics. “The Lady pushed me into it, too,” you nod with a smile. “I’m glad we can agree they’re both terrible friends to have.” He looks at your face genuinely, “Guess we’re just going to have to be better friends to each other than they are to us, then, hm?” He steps closer to you to whisper the words, sticking out his pinky to link with yours. Craning your neck up to his face and then back down to his hand, you twist your own small digit around his, shaking them firmly with a small giggle. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he quietly comments, stepping back. You move toward the steps of the palace, sending him the same well wishes for a good night with a wave. He gives you a friendly one in return as he turns and enters the Kennel House. ________________________________________________ Yawning, you reach for your canteen, frowning while you drink sparingly from the bladder of it. You’ve ridden North for nearly twelve hours. Your thighs remind you achingly that the short break you took half way through was not nearly long enough. The map you checked twenty minutes ago told you another two kilometers would put you where you need to be, in a tiny settlement in the Sweetwoods. Although you’ve never seen it with your own eyes, you’ve been told such a name fits the landscape, in a forest surrounded by good soil full of sweet smelling wildflowers. As long as you reach it and make camp before nightfall you won’t be as worried. Nothing a full stomach and a few slim hours of sleep can’t fix for you. You’ve certainly fought and survived on worse. Lost in your thoughts, you don’t realize as the sun begins to glow deeper shades of ruby and kiss the horizon. When you notice, it’s because a heavy log gate comes into view, crested between two greater beams that end and begin the sentry walls surrounding the Sweetwoods settlement. Smiling up at the men along the ramparts, you pass through the gates, leading your troop into the small town. There aren’t many buildings or people around, but the working-class people give you odd looks as you go. Sometimes you wonder if it’s because of the troop at large, or if it’s just you in particular. Being a woman in a militant leadership role is not common practice in many places. Raising a hand, you slow everyone to a halt in front of a two story building with a golden ram’s head sign hanging from the banister of the second level. Dismounting your horse, you know this is the right place. The creaking of the door hinges is almost hidden by the sound of the bell chiming upon your entrance. “I’ll be right out!” calls a voice. You note the crates and barrels and packages wrapped in fabrics and chord in the center of the room. The barren shelves and cabinets confirm this is the right place. “Ah,” the voice projects, pulling your gaze to the left. “You must be here to fetch me.” A young man stands in the doorway to a small room off the side of the main space, one arm lifting the curtain draped across the threshold as he enters. He pushes his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose and stops in front of you with an outstretched hand. Shaking it, you smile a tad brighter, “Yes, sir. My name is Lieutenant Y/N. I’m here to ensure you and your things make the journey safely.” He nods in understanding, “Wonderful. What is the plan, Lieutenant?” Getting straight to business, you brief him kindly, “Rest tonight. We’ve ridden a whole day’s ride. The soldiers and horses are tired and hungry. We’ll load up your supplies tonight after supper, and head out at dawn.” Smiling, he gestures to the back wall, “There’s space to make camp just around back in the yard. It’s a little small, I hope you won’t mind.” Shaking your head, you agree to his offer, “I’m sure it will do just fine, thank you.” Ten minutes later, you’re hissing as your thighs protest to your position when you finally settle on the ground behind the shop. You ensured the horses were turned out in the grass and your soldiers were settling in for a well-earned supper before you sat down. Someone has started a new fire with the half-burned logs in the pit. Opening your pack, you notice a small bag that hadn’t been there when you’d packed it before passing it off to the stable keep to put on your horse, Fox. With furrowed brows, you inspect it’s contents. There’s a small bit of folded parchment and two delicious looking apples inside the small canvas pouch. There are words scribbled neatly on the parchment. ‘These are Spring Dragon apples. Rare, beautiful and delicious… Please eat well and come back safely. -K.’ Blushing, you shove the note back into your pack and whip your head up wildly out of embarrassment. Someone could have seen! Not only that, but your rising feelings for the sender of this gift pull at your heartstrings. The blow your pride had taken from him forgotten in the wake of his gesture. You remove one from the sack, cradling it in your palm as you watch the fire’s glow glint off the shining skin. Smiling, the first bite is taken gently, with your breath held in your lungs. There’s a refreshing flow of juice into your mouth and the satisfying crack of fruit as it breaks off from the body of the apple. Kyungsoo is right, it is the best apple you’ve ever tasted. The texture, flavor, consistency, all perfect scores as it melts in your mouth with a happy hum. The treat disappears from your fingers all too quickly, leaving you to swipe your tongue across your lips repeatedly to taste the addicting sweetness. ____________________________________________ “If I’m not allowed to leave the bed who is supposed to make sure this buffoon stays out of trouble?” you complain loudly. “Hey!” comes Chanyeol offended cry. Even though he wants to, you know he won’t drop you in retaliation of your comment, clutching you to his side as he helps you walk to a bed in the Medical Ward of the palace. The Head Physician pats the linens of the bed she wants you to sit on, “Relax, it’s just for a few days until the bones begin to set. Better than being gone forever, right?” She smiles softly at you, taking an arm to help the Knight Captain lower you comfortably onto the bed. Scowling, you let her get to work wrapping the bruised and painful flesh as gently as she can. Chanyeol stands back, watching her work with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “I’ll get your stirrups adjusted while you’re in here,” Chanyeol mutters without looking at you. His eyes remain unblinking at your leg- a look you know means he’s very much in his thoughts. “Chanyeol it’s fine, don’t worry about-“ you protest quietly. “Absolutely not,” he commands. “I’m not going to risk your leg getting caught again. This could have been so much worse. What if Fox didn’t just spook, hm? What if he threw you off and then dragged you for who knows how long?” “War horses are trained not to do that. I’d have been fi-“ you wave at him nonchalantly, but the flare of his anger makes you flinch. There’s a reason he’s compared to both fire and a monster. “That horse is lucky,” he growls. Frowning, you reach for him and squeeze his forearm when the pain gets a little too intense, wincing. “Please leave Fox alone. It’s not his fault,” you groan. Your commander makes a disapproving clicking sound with his teeth, scoffing at you, “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that, woman?” At least his eyes finally find yours. “Don’t you take that tone with me,” you snap back at him playfully. Just like that you start bickering with him, forgetting about the pain in your leg until the Head Physician stands and sighs, brushing her hands off on her apron. “That’ll do you well for now. Please, Y/N, stay put, yeah?” she asks with a small smile. “I’ll make sure someone brings her something to eat,” Chanyeol comments, turning to leave the room with a nod. His disappears beyond the white curtain draped between your bed and the next. “Just for three days, until the bones start setting. Then we’ll change it and get you set up for light duty only,” she warns you, holding up her index finger between you. Waving dismissively, you shimmy yourself further up the bed and twist, smacking the flat pillow loudly with a sigh, “Fine, yes, yes.” She pauses, narrowing her eyes at you as she considers if you will behave. After a breath, she leaves. Minutes pass in the quiet warmth of the Ward, listening to the quiet groans of other sick and wounded people lying behind curtains in the wide room. Eventually, the door opens and footsteps are heard evenly across the floorboards. Waiting patiently, you’re surprised to see the separation reveal Kyungsoo. He has a plate held between his hands, smiling at you. He shakes his head gently and clicks his tongue at you, “I thought I asked you to come back safely. What part of that meant you should get thrown from your horse?” You grin, raising a hand and wanting to smack him. You don’t, lest he spill all of the food you assume he brought for you. He grins back at you, pulling a stool close to the side of the bed. “Are you hungry?” he asks quietly, balancing the plate on the edge. You try your best to scoot closer to the far side, giving him space to rest the plate beside you. “I am, thank you,” you confirm. He tries not to watch you eat, silently waiting for you to finish the meal. “It’s nothing new this time, sorry,” he apologizes quietly. His hands fidget in his lap as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. “No, this is great,” you assure, raising the last forkful to your lips. Kyungsoo clears his throat, “Can I ask you something?” Blinking at him, you’re a little confused, acquiescing, “What is it?” He turns to face you fully with a hard and thoughtful expression on his face, “Are you and the Kennel Master… seeing each other?” You don’t mean to laugh, but the unexpected question doesn’t give you time to think about your answer as you burst forth in laughter. Kyungsoo only looks at you with wide, confused eyes. “Heavens, no!” you shake your head. “I mean our friends tried to make us date but we’re just friends,” you clarify.

“But he thinks you’re amazing and I thought I saw you with him and-“ the man in front of you questions, clearly befuddled.

You wave your hands in front of you, “Yeah but we both agreed we’re just better as friends. I don’t feel that way about him.”

Kyungsoo’s brows furrow deeper, and his eyes focus on the linens of your bed momentarily before he asks instead, “Is there someone you

feel that way about?”

His bold curiosity heats your cheeks and you find yourself unable to speak. Rather, you nod lowly and stare at the last item of food on the plate, an apple. With shining skin, all of the shades between red and gold seemingly painted on with a brush, it is unmistakably the same as the ones he gave you for the mission you just came from.

“Spring Dragon…” you whisper between you, taking the fruit between your fingers and twirling it around to admire how pretty it looks.

Kyungsoo smiles at you, “Did you like them?”

Your eyes light up at his question. “Yes, they’re perfect! Thank you so much for sending them with me. It was a nice surprise,” you praise, pressing your lips to the skin just before you take the first bite.

You practically moan at the taste, choosing to sigh wistfully at the pleasure it brings.

The man beside you chuckles, “Is it really that good?”

Fixing him a stare with one brow turned up, you confirm, “Of course!” adding sarcastically, “Have you never eaten one of these?”

To your shock, he shakes his head, “No, actually I haven’t.”

Gaping at him, you flounder for words, feeling embarrassed and shameful that you’re enjoying his gift like this, “Why not?!” You place the apple back on the plate.

“They’re rare. I don’t have any more,” he comments matter-of-factly.

Curiously, you need to know, “You gave them all to me?”

He nods with a small smile tucked into the corner of his plush lips.

“Please have a taste,” you tell him, looking back down to the apple resting between you. You reach for it, intent on giving it to him, but his fingers circle your wrist to stop you.

When you raise your head to look at him, you’re met with a kiss. One that is unexpected but pleasant and sweet. Kyungsoo moves his lips against yours slowly, truly sampling the flavor of them before pulling away.

You do nothing more than stare at him in shock as he settles back on the stool. There’s a self-satisfied smile gracing those lips that were just pressed deliciously against yours.

“Very sweet,” he surmises gently.

Your fidget with your fingers in your lap, “Why?”

He laughs quietly at your expression and your heart thunders in your ears at how wonderful this image of him makes you feel. “You asked me to have a taste,” he says simply.

Suddenly your heart feels so light it makes it hard to breathe. You need to feel it wildly beating against your sternum, so you do the one thing you know will make it do what you need.

Reaching out, you pull Kyungsoo by the front of his tunic back to you. You plant your lips directly on his, feeling him smile against your mouth as his hand finds your neck.

____________________________________________

It isn’t until two weeks later that Chanyeol finally mentions anything about you and the Head Cook, Kyungsoo. He’s seen you two or three times in the kitchens when he’s come to beg for snacks or see if his own lover is present, but you’ve always been a respectable distance away from Kyungsoo’s grasp.

You suppose it’s easy to break apart from the nectar of his lips when you hear those heavy footfalls and clinking armor growing closer, but that’s not something you’re going to point out to your Knight Captain, either.

“That looks delicious… why did you get something different?” he groans beside you, frowning at his own plate of equally delicious food. It just looks different.

You laugh at him, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Feigning ignorance, you take a mouthful with closed eyes and a quiet hum of happiness, half way finished already.

When you open them again, Chanyeol is still staring at you, but his fork stabs around the contents on his plate, “No fair… Kyungsoo is playing favorites.”

Although you still have to look up to see his face, you do your best to stick your nose up at him. “Perhaps it is merely thanks for not coming and distracting his assistant every waking hour of the day,” you comment smugly.

He gapes, resting a heavy elbow on the table and motioning towards the kitchens with his now empty fork and a cheek stuffed with food, “You’re worse! You go and distract the Master himself!”

Swallowing your last bite, you lean in close to whisper, “Oh I do a lot more than distract him, Knight Captain.”

You don’t turn around to see the shocked expression on his face when you excuse yourself from the table immediately after, wearing a saccharine smile. All you can tell is that he doesn’t move for a very long time.

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kinphyre · 5 years

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My the Legend of Zelda Childhood Friends au! I always thinks its sad that the three is bonded to fight, so since I was, twelve I been thinking in this. I WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY AAAA

The story: Ganondorf is the last and only survivor of the Gerudo clan, who mysteriously disappeared without a trace beyond the abandoned sand houses. Thus, Ganondorf is adopted by Hyrule's knight army General, who is Link's father and they grew up with together like brothers. Due to the work of the General, Link and Ganondorf, practically grew up in the castle, and became good friends with the princess Zelda.

Since birth, She has been “cursed” which makes her health very unstable. And so, she is confined to the castle walls, yet she dreams of exploring Hyrule, its mysteries and its people. From there, Ganondorf and Link make a promise to become great warriors, so that the three can explorer Hyrule together. Zelda, not wanting to be left out, goes on to train magic and other arts on the pretext that it might help her better combat her condition.

Years go by and the three are grown up and strangely things began to happen around Hyrule. The land is being infected by Ganon Malices, Creatures are popping up and attacking merchant and adventurers on the roads, at the same time, Zelda feels her condition drastically worsen, as well as its celestial powers. Deducing that the three situations may be connected, Zelda, along with Ganondorf (Who is acting weird and always looks worried) and Link, set off on a secret journey to find out what is going on, and especially to find a cure for Zelda's curse.

But what they discover is much more terrible than they imagined. The past of the Gerudo people, the truth of Zelda curse and of the land of hyrule, and the tragedy of the holders of the Triforce.

Basically, a road trip AU. Slight zelink, but the main focus is the friendship between the three and how they deal with the whole “friendship vs. Fate"

More informations below if anyone is interested.

Zelda: Since birth, Zelda has a disease / curse that makes her very unstable. And despite what her father, the king says, she knows it's not a simple disease and is sure to be linked to her mother's death. Always confined to the castle, her only friends are his guardian Sheikah Zethp and Link and Ganondorf.

Their powers are focused on magic and weapon casting. Usually, she is the strategist and "mother" of the group, along with Ganondorf, the general, also acts as an AoE Mage, but due to the weakening of her magic, she has been using other means of combat. Strangely, the disease / curse affected her more in her childhood and pre-adolescence, being right now, affecting her magic more than her health.

Link: Link was 6 years old when Ganondorf came into his life and, despite the boy's quiet and antisocial attitude, they gradually became even better friends and brothers.

Like his father, Link began training at an early age, but his fate was sealed when he removed Master Sword from its pedestal at 14. Which gave him the task of exploring Hyrule and finding new enemies and challenges. From there, Link travels around the world for a whole year, returning only at the end, which unfortunately distances him from Zelda and Ganondorf. However, in one of his travels, he ends up witnessing Malice corrupting the land and immediately returns to report Zelda and the King.

Link specializes in various sword arts, but has become very inventive and creative in his fighting, using various means, from bombs to pieces of wood. It is also very reckless and always receives warnings from Ganondorf and Zelda.

Ganondorf: Ganondorf remembers nothing of his life before being adopted by Link's father and moving to the castle. Being the last acquaintance of his race, he is often followed by prying eyes and the enormous weight that the future of his culture and clan is in his hands. However, growing up in Hylian customs, Ganondorf does not know what a Gerudo is, and strangely, there is very little information in the historical books; as if the clan had been erased from history.

Ganondorf also suffers from strange nightmares since childhood. Where a voice is always prowling in his head, showing images of what appear to be other lives, where he faces Zelda and Link.

He then trains with Link and later becomes the Hyrule Knights General. Since Link has embarked on his journey, Ganondorf often feels lonely and the strange voice in his dreams has been increasingly frequent, so he seeks Zelda's company, which always seems to calm him down, as well as the voice in his head like a light that dispels all evil.

Ganondof due to his formation as a general, is the group leader and the Tank. Just like Link he is formed in many martial arts, but prefers to use two-handed swords and spears.

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Text

Nightwing BTHB: Serum Injection

Stars: Done. Moon: Requested. Eye: Next

Summary: Thirteen year old Dick wakes up in the clutches of owls; a group of people insisting he belongs to them.

He thinks different.

[anon requested teen Dick Grayson being found out by the Court of Owls and kidnapped by them]

WARNINGS: GRAPHIC descriptions of blood and injury, non-consensual drugging, BRIEF THOUGHTS OF SELF HARM (but for only like a small paragraph), implied sort-of major character death, guys I really mess with Dick in this one. I’m pretty sure most of you reading this already love whump and violence but I still need you all to keep safe. Love you all! Let me know if I missed any triggers, I’m pretty sure I pinned down all the major ones though.

AO3 link

-o-o-o-o-

Dick shivers and curls up tighter against the corner of his small cell, clutching his left wrist and trying not to bend his spine too much because of the whiplash crawling around in his chest cavity. He hopes Bruce is okay… Dick doesn't remember much of the circumstances of his kidnapping, but he does remember driving home with Bruce from school when all of a sudden his guardian went taunt like a bow string before swerving off the road into a ditch just a few miles from the manor.

Next thing Dick knew, he woke up in this small room that can't even really be called a small room. It's more like a closet. A long rectangle that if he lays one way he can lay flat on his back, but won't be able to spread his arms out as much. The door to the room is on one of the short walls, looking all ominous with small gaps between it and the doorframe, the lack of door knob, and it's marble sheen. The floor and walls are marble too, and the ceiling looks rocky like granite. A single bright light shines above him, easily illuminating the small space, leaving the only things shadowed be the top corners where four different cameras hide.

Dick can't tell if those cameras can record audio or not. They can definitely visualize, the lenses are clear enough to see, but otherwise Dick isn't as studied in camera technology like Bruce is; he can't just look at them and immediately know what they are, when they were made, the company that made them and it's CEO, and who invented that particular model. He'd have to get up close and personal with it and hold it in his hands and perhaps have a monitor to his side to use the internet to help him out.

But right now, the thought of moving sends pangs of pain down his spine and in his neck. He's had whiplash before. You don't go on high speed chases in the Batmobile and not end up with whiplash at some point or another. Robin has been a part of his fair share of spectacular crashes… through crashes in the Batmobile are usually cushioned by millions of dollars of technology Bruce invented to make the effects of whiplash little to none. Crashing the Batmobile is tame when compared to a Mustang. Lot less support, a lot more broken metal, and a whole lot more seatbelts crushing your lungs as you catapult in every direction before you finally smack your head on the dashboard and pass out.

So Dick stays sitting, scowling at the door and rubbing his wrist. He doesn't think it's broken, just bruised, but it hurts just enough that he definitely doesn't plan on moving it any time soon. If he wasn't close to shivering in this room, he'd have ripped off a section of his shirt by now to wrap it, but alas… he's cold. And it's not broken so it can last without a brace or anything for a little while longer.

He just hopes his abductors reveal themselves soon and they tell him what they did with Bruce. Maybe he's just stuffed in a room somewhere different until a ransom is paid and then Gordon and the cops will storm in here and save them. Dick's been kidnapped plenty of times, and in all kinds of ways too. He knows how this goes. He'll be fine as long as he acts like a scared, thirteen year old Dick Grayson and not Robin the superhero. As long as he whimpers and cries and weakly and sloppily tries to struggle, he'll be okay.

He'll be okay.

He just hopes Bruce is too. Dick can't imagine what could happen to make the man just swerve off the road like that.

There's a scraping noise, a heavy door opening against solid ground, and Dick's snapped out of his thoughts. Instinctively, he curls up tighter, wincing as the back of his neck protests with a stiff yet stabbing pain and a wave of light-headedness washes over him. He keeps forgetting about the egg on his temple. The concussion from his most recent face-meet-dashboard episode. He's poked and prodded at it perhaps a half hour earlier, but he isn't completely out of it and it just hurts more than anything, but right now it makes it really difficult to completely focus on the forms of people who are standing right outside the door… just standing there, staring at him.

They… don't look like a typical "Dick Grayson" kidnapper. Or well, there's a couple different kinds of Dick Grayson kidnappers. The kinds of people Dick finds himself often in the clutches of are either high end, prestigious assholes who have a grudge against Bruce for some reason or other, or down on their luck thugs who want a quick buck. These people standing before him? They look like Robin kidnappers.

Meaning they're dressed in costumes and giving off a very… very dangerous vibe.

Dick immediately takes stock of them. Three are dressed similar to each other, in dresses or suits or gowns, their faces all covered by an eerie mask that looks like it could be based off an owl. The fourth guy though… he's the one who's giving Dick major red flags. He's muscular and taller than the others and his costume is black and leather and terrifying to look at. There's a hood pulled over his face, shaped like an owl who got steampunk goggles somewhere and that also gave off the shivering effect of light reflecting off of nocturnal eyes.

These look like genuine bad guys.

One of the masked ones steps forward, a woman in a low collared pink gown with lace lining the sleeves down to the middle of her forearms. Her blonde hair is all done up behind her, beads lining the braids until it all sits in a nice and perfect rose-shaped bun at the top of her head. She crosses her arms around her chest, and even with the mask Dick feels like she's studying him like he's a mouse in a glass cage.

"This is the Gray Son of Gotham?" She asks, clearly referring to Dick which throws him off for a number of reasons.

Normally, when he's kidnapped as Dick, people don't normally ever call him by name. First or last. It's always "brat" or "freak" or "that Wayne [insert "brat" or "freak" here]. It's something they do to lie to themselves that they hadn't just kidnapped, tied up, and locked up a kid. Calling him Wayne also makes it clear that they couldn't care less about him personally, they just want Bruce. They don't care that he's just a ward and that Bruce Wayne isn't his dad. They don't care about these things because he may not be adopted by Bruce Wayne, but he's definitely an easy-access key to his bank account.

But these guys called him Grayson. And not even Grayson, but they said it weirdly with an oddly purposeful space and a title added at the end. He wonders if it's a reference about how Bruce is normally jokingly known among the high class citizens as the White Knight of Gotham—a play on words to Batman's take of the Dark Knight of Gotham despite how they don't even know the half of it—but he doesn't get a chance to wonder long before the scary owl guy steps forward, looking directly at Dick with his shining eyes.

"It is, my Court," he says and Dick has to suppress a shiver, "he has finally returned to where he belongs, just like I promised."

"Hmm," the woman says, still staring at Dick as she brings a silk gloved hand to her chin in thought. "And you will take personal responsibility over his education?"

"Education?" Dick asks before he could think better of it. The cold air in the room becomes icy as every person's attention seems to zero in on him. Then, without any prompting, the fully costumed man suddenly strides forward and Dick almost doesn't have to fake a surprised yelp as his upper arm is easily grabbed, fingers wrapping around his limb hard enough to definitely leave bruises as he's forced to his feet; the grasp on him unrelenting as his arm is held higher than his head, forcing him to his tip toes.

Dick goes to wrap his hand around the grasp in an attempt for freedom, but he's painfully reminded of his injured wrist and all he can do is hold it to his chest as he tries to yank his arm out of the grasp on its own power. It doesn't do a thing, in fact the man's grip just tightens heartlessly.

"Of course, my Court," the owl man says, voice silky and dangerous, "I will see to all his education, starting now."

Dick cries out as his bad wrist is grabbed and held just as tightly.

The man bends to get in his face, those horrid eyes glowing dangerously and setting something nervous and scared aflame in his gut. "Lesson one: you will not speak unless addressed and given permission to speak. You will treat the Court with respect. Understand?”

Dick can only nod even though he has no clue what's going on or who these people are, but the nod seems to be enough because he's released. He gasps and scrambles backwards until his back meets the far wall, holding his pulsing wrist to his chest and blinking viscously to staunch the tears caused by the pain.

The owl man straightens with a suffocating aura of intimidation.

"I will turn him into the best Talon this Court has ever seen," the man says, voice prideful and boding ill-will. "We will not let you down."

"We will allow you to train him," the woman says, sounding pleased, "but know if he doesn't show his worth within the week, you both will be severely punished."

Dick feels a shiver go down his spine. If he could see the look on the owl man's face, Dick's sure a smirk would be sitting poisonous on his lips. "Trust me, my Court. He will surpass me. I will make sure of it."

-o-o-o-o-

Want more? This is but a small 1-2k of a 16k one-shot. Read the rest on AO3!

#dick grayson #nighting #court of owls #talon dick grayson #batman comics #fanfiction #fan fic #bad things happen bingo #jin writes #whump #angst #ao3 link

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voidendron · 4 years

Text

V’ehsz Legacy (Part 1)

I’ve started getting a lot of characters to keep track of, and I want something for them with really brief info instead of full bios (plus. the last one of these I made was messy and a pain to read through). This’ll help me keep track of everything and off a look at what my OCs are like!

Starting off with my main eight who follow their class storylines

Terrin - Synnda - Qizulth - Liolana - Azan - Jen - Azuma - Varrich

Part 2

(only Terrin, Synnda, Qizulth, and Varrich’s outfits shown above are finalized - other four are not and I’ll try to update this when they are)

For more in-depth information, there’s a link to my SWTOR characters in my bio. Going there will lead to a list, and the list contains links to their Toyhouse files (if they exist yet), and I’m slowly working on putting the detailed info there

This is subject to (likely minor) changes

Ar’eonis’terrinxx (“Terrin”) - She/her - Chiss - Bounty Hunter (Power Tech) & Outlander Random Pointless Fact: She has a headband that Blizz made her to help keep her hair out of her face when she has a helmet on. She always wears it if planning to wear her helmet, but sometimes she’ll wear it in her regular day-to-day to change things up a little. It’s very dear to her and she keeps it stored safely in a drawer when not wearing it.

Reckless, likes a challenge, temper laying at the end of a short fuse, and anyone who’s worked with or for her quickly discovers she isn’t one to sit still for long. She takes great pride in being Mandalorian, but her tendency to take challenges she probably shouldn’t makes her a handful and easily gets her into trouble. When sent on a mission with her, it’s wise to bring a fire extinguisher; she likes to set things ablaze. She’s the type who if told to use her head, would actually headbutt the thing before thinking of a better solution.

Rough around the edges and quick to speak her mind or blast a hole in something, she’s surprised people with how caring she can actually be. Family is extremely important to her, and when the galaxy comes under threat credits become the last thing on her mind. Terrifying Force shit she doesn’t understand threatens an entire planet or the whole damn galaxy? She’ll step between it and the innocent without second thought.

When Marr reached out from Wild Space, Terrin wasn’t the only one he contacted (Varrich and Azan were even en route!), but she was the only one to arrive in time to try and aid him when the Eternal Empire attacked his fleet--much to her frustration, that also meant she was the one to get Valkorian in her head. Upon becoming Alliance Commander, she made the difficult decision to leave behind bounty hunting for good so she could focus on what was really important, and has matured because of it.

...That doesn’t change the fact she’s still Mandalorian, though, and Lana has her work cut out keeping Terrin from trying to fight everything.

Synnda V’ehsz - He/him - Zabrak - Jedi Consular (Shadow) Random Pointless Fact: Broke two horns as a Padawan. His lightsaber had been knocked out of his hand and he was more or less pinned, so he tried to headbutt his opponent... Who was... Wearing armor... It wasn’t his brightest moment.

Always calm, keeping a level head regardless of the situation, able to diffuse even the tensest situations and often finding allies in unexpected places, Synnda could be considered the ideal Jedi and those who know him aren’t surprised he was named Barsen’thor. His seeming emotionless and flat voice can easily make him seem cold or distant or disinterested, however, and he has a hard time really connecting with people as a friend rather than a simple acquaintance. Upon being offered a Council position, he was hesitant to take it, though did accept.

He has great interest in other cultures and--especially--other languages and is always trying to learn what he can of them. So, while his tone may put someone off, his commonplace willingness to speak their language instead of Basic, and that he’ll show respect as is custom of their culture rather than of the Jedi, shows the type of person he really is when his voice has a hard time conveying it. He tries not to form too strong of attachments to others, even if those others happen to be friends, but has definitely become attached to his crew.

When Marr reached out from Wild Space, Synnda had been busy with the rebuilding efforts on Corellia and missed the call until it was already too late. When the Eternal Empire attacked, he helped a few small groups escape to Ossus before attacking the fleet himself. He ended up captured, and was kept in a prison on Zakuul, but broke out during the blackout caused by Terrin’s escape and later joined up with the Alliance.

Qizulth Verryn/Darth Nox - He/him - Twi’lek - Sith Inquisitor (Sorcerer) Random Pointless Fact: He and Talos will totally geek out over ancient temples together. He’d have a hard time admitting it aloud, but Talos is easily his closest/most trusted friend and Key is much more open with him than anyone else.

Impulsive, sarcastic and cocky, yet also always trying to prove himself and his abilities. He doesn’t let it show, but thanks to Harkun and growing up a slave, he feels the need to prove to others that he’s worth something and easily becomes frustrated with himself when he can’t. He has a habit of trying to be better than others, as well, so he makes a lot of enemies and isn’t exactly the best at making allies unless he does it through manipulation.

Before being taken to Korriban to become an acolyte, he’d always dreamed of the stars and exploring unknown places, enjoyed learning anything he could in what little free time he had. As Sith, he found excitement in ancient tombs and texts and artifacts, took great interest in learning about peoples and cultures from long before his time. It made him fitting to head the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge upon his defeat of Thanaton--and also brought him to have his strange little crew he actually cares a lot for but shh. He’s scared to admit it.

When Marr reached out, Key had been exploring a tomb on Hoth, so the message never came through due to atmospheric interference. Upon the Eternal Empire’s attack, he sneaked off to Belsavis without telling anyone, hoping to confide in Ashaa or find something that could help against Arcann’s empire. His wandering led him to accidentally trap himself in one of the many prison chambers deep within the planet, suspended in the air by a force field and more or less frozen in time. It’s not until years later that others find and free him after finding clues of his whereabouts, and he joins the Alliance.

Liolana “Leo” Vetiko - She/her - Cathar - Jedi Knight (Guardian) Random Pointless Fact: Most people don’t know it, but she’s actually pretty good with repairing machines and is even a decent slicer. If an actual mechanic isn’t available, she’s a good replacement.

While she does try to fit the card of the ideal Jedi, her emotions and attachments can get the better of her to make her impulsive - so much so that she risked the entire mission of confronting Vitiate to save Rusk when he’d ended up in trouble. She works hard to feel like she’s worthy of her position of Master, and has a bad habit of comparing her failures to the successes of others, so has been known to push herself too hard to the point she’s fallen ill for it on more than one occasion.

She’s still young and, while honored, didn’t feel like she was even remotely ready to be named Battlemaster and was nervous about it. While she didn’t outright say, she did wish Satele and the Council had reconsidered their choice. However, it didn’t take long for her to love the position, and she took pride in watching the lightsaber skills of those she trained grow with her lessons.

When it came to Ziost, she ended up as one of Theron’s contacts and met with his other three (Havoc, Jen, and Synnda) planetside where they eventually paired up to work with Lana’s contacts. She ended up badly injured by a possessed Sixth Line Jedi, but in the end that’s what saved her life. Because of the severity of her injuries, she was taken off-world to be tended to, so ended up surviving the devastation Vitiate caused. She was still recovering when the Eternal Empire attacked, so had no choice but to follow others fleeing to Ossus, where she stayed until Jedi Under Siege.

Azan Tarnak/Lord Wrath - She/her - Sith Pureblood - Sith Warrior (Juggernaut) Random Pointless Fact: She’s not exactly graceful in a duel. She’s large and incredibly strong, so tends to lean with brute force rather than acrobatics in a fight. She’s even been known to swing her lightsaber more like it’s a club than an elegant weapon. Her fights aren’t pretty and many an opponent have lost limbs to her.

A follower of the light, Azan has learned to be cunning and manipulative just to survive among other Sith. She’s incredibly good at lying and finding ways to cover up things she’s done that would otherwise seem very not-Sith-like. From claiming pragmatism, to simply turning around and threatening someone not to question her choices, rarely using the Force in the presence of others and able to prove she doesn’t have to rely on it to be formidable, or simply covering up her actions altogether, she’s gotten good at wearing her mask.

She wasn’t exactly thrilled to get her apprenticeship to Baras. He irritated her and she had a bad feeling about him from the start--she sassed and disobeyed him every chance she got. Even on the instances he grew tired of her attitude and threatened her, she was one to just cross her arms and wait for him to get to the point. To say she was surprised by his betrayal would be a lie, and she quite enjoyed finally kicking his ass. Becoming Wrath was a different matter, though. She wasn’t pleased and thought she was about the worst possible choice for the position--though having even (most of) the Dark Council itself scared of her was certainly interesting and made things easier for her when she’d no longer be questioned about her actions due to that fear.

When Marr reached out from Wild Space, Azan had been at Ziost. She was on the surface after the destruction, protecting teams from Monoliths while they tried to study what happened. She and Havoc Squad met on Ziost’s space station and opted for a temporary truce to go out to Marr’s location together. By the time they reached the coordinates, the Eternal Fleet had already come and gone, and all that was left was the remains of the fleet and a few escape pods that they rounded up. Azan ended up going into hiding once the Eternal Empire attacked so she could try and figure out what to do about it. She was separated from her team, but met up with an old ally--Master Timmns--and the two worked to survive together until the formation of the Alliance, which they were quick to join.

Jendrush “Jen” Sept - He/him - Cathar - Smuggler (Gunslinger) Random Pointless Fact: Want to lure him into a trap? Don’t bother with anything elaborate. Simple and easy are just fine, and he’s sure to walk right into it without thinking. It’s a wonder how he’s still alive.

Overconfident, aloof, a huge flirt, and boiling over with enough sarcasm he could share, Jen isn’t exactly “friend” material. He has a hard time connecting with people unless he’s flirting, and has an easier time making enemies than allies. He used to run smuggling jobs solely for the money. He didn’t care what the job was or if it harmed anyone, as long as he got paid in the end. Fortunately, he did start to make better decisions after he had to work with others to get his stolen ship back.

It wasn’t until he was hired by the Republic that he really started to change for the better, however. He found that he actually liked helping people and became easier to be around, though still wasn’t the most friendly if you weren’t part of his crew, and even then he could be testy at times. It wasn’t until he hired K’hedif (so his two kids wouldn’t be in the streets; he didn’t trust K’hedif himself at first) that Jen finally started to soften up. Jeva was too little and too much of a sweetheart to be rude to, while Jessi would snap at him to quit being an ass and kinda gave him the reality check he so badly needed. And...yeah, he might have eventually fallen for K’hedif once his heart was good an tenderized after knowing them quite a while. He and his kids were the best things that ever happened to Jen.

Jen wasn’t contacted by Marr, and had instead been running a job when the Eternal Empire struck. He took his crew and his ship and went underground (possibly literally) until he could find a way around the Coruscant blockade. Once he did, his priority became running supplies to worlds that needed it until Hylo Visz got in contact needing smugglers for the newly-formed Alliance.

“Azuma”/Cipher Nine - She/her - Zabrak - Imperial Agent (Operative) Random Pointless Fact: The jewelry attached to her horns are extremely durable. She can (and has) removed them to use to choke someone from behind, and they can also undo/short out handcuffs and shock collars. Just assume that if she looks like she’s wearing something just for looks, it’s there for a reason.

Doggedly loyal to the Empire and severely lacking any form of moral compass, “Azuma” does whatever it takes for the Empire to come out on top. She’s intelligent, cunning, manipulative, and a quick thinker - able to smoothly run with a last-minute plan or come up with one herself on-the-spot, she can prove effective in any situation. She took the “you no longer have a name” very seriously, and went on to only go by whatever her latest disguise was for what her team should call her (with Azuma Kathrak being her current one). Her original name has been purged from all records and no one speaks of it - not even her own husband knows what it was.

While not good in an actual fight, she has a stealth generator and is armed with a multitude of poisons that she can use to do her dirty work for her. From dusts that her target can inhale, to setting off poisonous clouds that affect only certain species, to a toxin hidden in her earrings she can pour into a drink, her collection could make any chemist or assassin jealous. When she joined Intelligence, she very quickly learned it was no place for a moral code and left hers far behind in her old life. Now, she becomes whoever she has to be to get the job done.

Marr didn’t have the time to track down Azuma when he was in Wild Space, as she’d gone under the radar again after Ziost to conduct her own search for the Emperor. As such, she didn’t hear about what was happening until it was far too late. From then on, she parted ways with her companions and went into deep cover on Zakuul to figure out what was going on and strike at Arcann’s empire from within. She joined the Alliance when she was discovered by it for mutual gain: She’d help it by providing information, and it would help the Sith Empire in return.

Varrich Tophrik - He/him - Mirialan - Republic Trooper (Vanguard) Random Pointless Fact: He always wears the same style of helmet, even in different colors to match different armor. It’s become a running joke that he must have a hoard of lookalikes hidden somewhere like they’re some grand treasure. He is not amused by said joke. Because it’s probably true.

Steadfast, loyal, and unflinching in the face of danger, Varrich tries to be the perfect soldier. A teenage resistance fighter on Balmorra who later joined the Academy in the hopes he could better help his planet that way, he never expected to graduate top of his class, nor to be recruited to Havoc because of it. Already having trust issues, his original team’s betrayal only ingrained distrust deeper into him. He doesn’t let himself get close to anyone, trusting only his team and the sister he so rarely gets to see.

Trained in a multitude of weapons and fighting styles, he’s like a living arsenal. Missiles, blasters, grenades, knives, even a generator that lets him give his opponent a shock, he’s armed to the teeth and it’s not just for show. While he does have a strong moral code, he also knows that he can’t always follow it if he needs to get a job done and is willing to do some pretty messed up things in the name of the Republic. It can make him seem callous, and the fact he remains professional and even-toned even as bodies lay at his feet even more so.

When Marr called from Wild Space, Varrich and his team were on Ziost looking for signs of Vitiate. They dropped everything at the call, and when they’d head up to the orbital station, they encountered the Wrath who’d also gotten the call. Deciding it would be in their best interest, Varrich reluctantly agreed to head to his coordinates with her. They arrived too late, however, and Havoc eventually went to Zakuul’s surface to try and fight its empire. They were in over their heads, and Varrich was separated from the rest of his team in an explosion - he was captured by a black market group working out of Breaktown and used as a test subject for cybernetics they planned to sell in the streets. He was there about five years, but was able to escape thanks to Terrin having caused a blackout.

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the-lupine-sojourner · 4 years

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The Tale of Astoria Kenobi [Chapter 2] [Obitine and Anidala Featured] [Dad!Obi-Wan/Daughter!OC]

Sorry I forgot this last night! Anyway, here it is!

Y’all have @sunshineisdelightful to thank for, honestly, pretty much all the scenes in this chapter lol.

Sunshine (apt username cus they’re so sweet!) mentioned some fantastic ideas and I ended up using about all of them in this chapter. XD

So next chapter will skip to her Gathering and then it’ll be her hearing about Obi-Wan and Anakin’s adventures protecting Amidala and she really wants to go to Kamino with her ‘uncle’ but she can’t.

And then Plo Koon is like ‘wanna be my Padawan?’ and Astoria’s like ‘yes please!’ and is so thrilled that such a wise, powerful Counsel Member would offer to train her in the Jedi Arts.

Anyway! Tag list! :) A huge thank you to all of these people! @elite-guard-hardygal, @forcearama, Sunshine, who I tagged already, @fwtcanimelover, and @babycollectiondragon135 (I can’t tag you! TT^TT) are all amazing people! If you want to be included in the taglist please just let me know!

Last thing is Links. Chapter 1 Link and the Prologue Link

Now, let’s get to the chapter!

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

I’ve been here at the Temple five years now, and I still haven’t managed to quite master meditation.

I try my best, but though I make some progress, I never get to the point the instructor describes. I’ve never felt the Force around me like he says I should.

It’s embarrassing and no amount of tutoring by Uncle Obi seems to be helping.

Try as I currently might, the end result is failure.

“I just don’t get it!” I groan, flopping on the ground in frustration.

I was trying yet again to understand what Uncle Obi was talking about, but nothing helps.

“Astoria, flopping around and getting frustrated isn’t helping.”

“If you say I need to ‘clear my mind and let my emotions go’ one more time, I’m going to smack you.” I grumble without thinking, sitting up and crossing my arms grumpily.

“I should like to see that.” He teases, chuckling.

“Sorry, Uncle Obi.” I murmur, sobering. “I just...it’s frustrating I still can’t get this.”

Obi-Wan sits beside me, chuckling and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “You want to know something?” He asks.

“What?”

“When I look into your connection to the Force, and follow it into your core, I see a bright ball of energy, giving off wild, unfocused waves of light. It’s almost stronger than the connection I see in Anakin.”

“Really?”

“Almost.” He scoots me around to face him. “I want to help you, Astoria, believe me. In fact, I could calm your mind myself so your connection to the Force will be clearer. But, if I do that, I risk hurting you and your connection to the Force, and that I will not do. So, we have to take the long way, but we’ll get there.”

I manage a smile. “Thanks, Uncle Obi.”

“Now, shall we try one more time before bed?”

I sigh. “Yeah, just once more.”

This was one of my favorite times of the day, when my adopted uncle and I can just talk and enjoy each other’s company, even though in the presence of other Jedi I have to call him Master Kenobi.

For the first year, I was allowed an adjustment period where the Counsel let some things slide, like informal names and my energy, but after the year ended, they then began to curb those habits and hold me to the standards of the other Younglings.

I was grateful for the adjustment period and am doing my best to live up to the expectations of the Counsel, which made it all the more frustrating that I couldn’t grasp meditation yet.

=#=#=#=#=

“Oh, sorry Master Windu!” I mumble, scooting out of his way after nearly running into him rounding a corner.

“Eyes forward, Youngling.” He replies, not unkindly.

“Yes, Master.” I intone respectfully. He surprises me by turning back curiously.

“Were you headed to meditation?” He asks.

I shift sheepishly. “I’ve got a private lesson from Master Yoda. Seems he’s noticed my repeated failures.”

“Way I see it, the only thing he sees is your potential. Don’t be harsher on yourself than those around you, young one.” He says, surprising me with his gentle tone.

I nod, feeling better. “Thank you, Master Windu.” He nods and I bow my head in farewell. “I’ll be off now.”

“May the Force be with you, Astoria.” He says and I’m shocked he remembers my name.

A very high-ranking Jedi master remembered my name!

I walk down the hall, giddy.

“Something to celebrate, hmm?” Yoda asks, amused, when I walk into the meditation room he was in, noticing my wide smile.

I sit across from him. “Well, it’s just...it’s silly. Let’s start.”

“Meditation, you will not learn if clouded your mind is, little one.” Yoda replies, smiling and tilting his head. “What distracts you, hmm?”

“I almost ran into Master Windu. He gave me a bit of advice and remembered my name. I shouldn’t have let it distract me, Master. I’m sorry.”

“No error it is to find pleasure in small matters, but distractions, they should not become. Now, begin, we can, hmm?”

“Yes, Master Yoda.” Together, we begin to breathe deep and quiet our minds (or try to, in my case).

“Your mother, cloud your thoughts, she does.” Yoda muses.

“Well...she seems stressed lately. Worried about something. She never talks about what’s really going on on Mandalore. I can’t help being curious.” I reply, feeling childish.

“Allowed contact with their families Jedi are, but one must learn balance. Detach yourself from your training, you cannot.”

I flinch subtly, biting my lip. “I won’t, Master. I’m sorry I’ve been a bit distracted lately.”

The meditation practice had dissolved into a lecture.

Great. Master Windu was wrong; Yoda only wanted to scold a failing Youngling.

“Failing, you are not. Succeeding, you are not. Only trying, you are.” Yoda says as if he had read my thoughts.

For all I knew, he had read them like a book.

I frown. “What does that mean, Master?” I ask.

“Do or do not, young Astoria. There is no try.”

“Master, I’m just not getting meditation.” I point out. “I’ve been going to classes and practicing with Master Kenobi when he can help me, but nothing’s working.”

“Clouded and stormy your emotions are. Never learn meditation you will, if these emotions, settled they are not.”

“Yes, Master.” I bite my lip. “It’s just...I guess I’m not sure how to settle my emotions.” I confess.

Something about Master Yoda made me want to truly open up to him. So I did.

“Learn to let go you must.” Is his calm, enigmatic reply.

“What do you mean?” I ask, not understanding.

“Means do not concern yourself with things you cannot change, it does. Relax your mind and it will become calm and clear.”

And so Yoda and I begin trying to calm my emotions.

It sorta works, and soon enough I’m released to combat class.

My favorite! I’m ahead of the Younglings in my group in combat, actually.

I try not to let myself be too aggressive and competitive, but it’s really hard.

I wish they’d let us fight with actual lightsabers, not the low-powered youngling sabers we use, but I suppose that’s too dangerous right now.

I can’t wait to get my lightsaber crystal and make my hilt!

=#=#=#=#=

“Little Astoria, that move was rather reckless.” Plo Koon calls from the sidelines of the class.

He sometimes oversaw training from the sides and would call out advice to any struggling Youngling.

“Sorry, Master!” I call back, blocking a swing and swinging my leg to trip my opponent up. I then point my practice saber at the boy I was dueling. I think his name is Roman, but I can’t remember.

“I yield.” He says, annoyed that he lost...again. I turn off my blade and extend a friendly hand.

“You’re improving.” I note as I help him up.

“How are you so good at this?” He asks.

I shrug. “I’m not sure. I just...know what to do.”

Plo Koon strides over as the instructor dismisses the class. “In some ways, Astoria, your connection to the Force is instinctive and clear, but in others...you lack discipline and focus.”

I shuffle my feet as Roman awkwardly walks off. “I know, Master Plo, but...I just can’t seem to understand meditation like I can combat.”

“One day this mystery will be solved, young one, but you must continue practicing and learning what you can from your lessons. Never give up when the path before you becomes uncertain.”

“Yes, Master.” I reply. “I am trying.” He puts a hand on my shoulder and I think, if I could see his whole face, I’d see a smile.

“I know you are, and one day you will master it. Astoria, I believe that when you master your connection to the Force, you will become quite an impressive Jedi Knight.”

I grin and automatically hug him. “Thank you, Master Plo!” I cheer. The Jedi were getting used to my hugs by now and Plo Koon even returns the hug with one arm before gently peeling me off.

“Come along, young one, or we’ll miss our lunch.” I nod and skip down to lunch.

I may dislike the food, but I’ve learned ways of coping with that.

Every once in a while, when a Jedi went out to do a bit of shopping for basic essentials, I would ask to go with them.

Usually, that meant a pleasant trip with Master Kenobi as he shopped for things like soap and toiletries and I got to get some fruit and actually flavorful food.

I’d also grab a few spices like salt and pepper to liven up the bland food they serve at the Temple.

That food was grating on my nerves, but at least I had some ways to combat the lack of flavor.

In fact, Master Fisto needed to pick up some special lotion or something so his skin doesn’t get too dry being out of water for so long. We had pools and things in the Temple, but he couldn’t be in them as much as he’d like. I’ll ask if I can go with him after lunch.

=#=#=#=#=

“Master Fisto, may I have a word?” I ask, jogging to catch up to him.

He turns with his trademark broad smile, even crouching a little to be at my eye level. “Of course, my little friend.” He replies. “What can I help you with?”

“I was wondering if I could go with you to the marketplace today. I know you need lotion and I would like to get some more salt and pepper.”

“The food is not to your tastes, I take it?” He teases with a smirk.

“Well, not exactly. The food’s alright, but with salt and other spices, it’s a bit better.”

He laughs, patting my back cheerily and nearly making me fall over. “I feel the same way, young one. I’ll let you come.”

“Yay! Thank you, Master” I cheer, jogging to my room to grab the tiny allowance Younglings were given each month for whatever basics they needed.

Master Fisto and I leave side by side. “It’s always refreshing to step out of the Temple, is it not?” He asks.

I nod. “Yeah. I like it here, believe me, but it is also nice to get out every once in a while.”

“Come, let us get to business.” He calls, walking toward the small speeder that would take us to the marketplace.

“If I may, why don’t you spend more time in the pools and gardens if you’re from an aquatic planet?” I ask tentatively, coming to stand beside the Jedi Master.

“Well, I am a member of the Council. I have many duties that require my attention.”

“Oh.” I reply. “I was just curious.”

“Never let yourself feel bad for merely asking a question, Astoria.” He says gently. “Curiosity has led to many, many great inventions and discoveries.”

I nod. “Thanks, Master Fisto.”

“Of course, Astoria. Ah, here we are!” He cheers when we arrive at the marketplace. “You typically come with...Master Kenobi, that right?” He asks.

I nod. “Yes. He’s close friends with my mother, and I enjoy his company as well.” I reply carefully, not understanding why he was asking or smiling so broadly.

“I see. No shame in that. Come, we’ll hurry along and be back in time for your meditation lesson.”

I groan. “Yes, Master.”

“Do not think of this as punishment, Astoria. We are merely trying to help.”

“I know, Master, but I’m just not getting it!”

“That right there is why you fail.”

“I don’t understand.” I confess.

“Astoria, you view meditation as a block on your path that you cannot get past. That is why you fail.” My frown remains. I had no idea what he meant. “You need to start looking at it as a challenge to overcome, that can be overcome. If you look at it like that, you will be able to reach your potential that much sooner.”

I hum in thought then sigh. “Why is it I can rise in combat so easily, but stumble at meditation?” I ask.

“That, only you can answer, Astoria. But think on my words and the path forward will become clear.” I nod, absently side-hugging him as we near the spice store.

“Thank you again, Master.” I say, then wave to him as we go separate ways to gather our supplies.

“I’ll meet you at the transport in twenty minutes.”

I nod and enter the store.

“Ah, Astoria, my favorite little customer.” The store clerk greets. He was a human, like me, I think from the same planet as Uncle Obi, But I can’t remember for sure.

“Hello, Gastor.” I reply, walking automatically to the salt section.

“Ah, those are brand-new. Put ‘em out this morning.” He says when I grab a small container of a spice mix. It held a lot of good spices with the salt as the main component. I like the look of it, but it’s fairly expensive, so I reluctantly put it back. “I could cut you a deal since you come in so frequently.” Gastor muses idly, noting my interest before I put it back.

“No, but thank you, Gastor. I might be back for it later, but for now I must say goodbye.” I retort lightly, pretending to be emotional.

“Trust you to get attached to spices.” Gastor fires back and I pretend to be insulted, hand over my heart as I move further back toward the other spices.

I hear other customers come in, and feel something...unsettling. I don’t know what, but I know something’s amiss.

“Hello, Gastor.” Somes a slithery voice I immediately distrust. I sneak a little closer and see a tough-looking Twi’lek man and a few other thugs I can’t place.

“Look, I’m just waiting on one last shipment, then your order will be ready.” Gastor pleads, and I instantly am on guard, creeping nearer. I still had time to deal with these goons, buy the spices, and maybe even pick up some shampoo and conditioner as well before meeting Master Fisto at the speeder.

Taking a breath, grabbing a container of standard salt and pepper with granulated garlic and onion mixed in, I walk toward the counter.

“Ah, are you, er, ready to check out, miss?” Gastor says, and it’s clear he is uneasy, sweating as he glances between the thugs and me anxiously.

“Oi! We were here first!” The Twi’lek growls.

I notice a small blaster in his hand and a knife in the other.

“I’m sorry, but as your order is not yet ready- -” Gastor says placatingly.

“Get it ready!” The man interrupts angrily.

“Sir, he said it’s not ready. That’s it. Check back later. I’ve gotta get- -” I’m suddenly grabbed by one of the other thugs (maybe a man from Florum, but maybe not), fingers tight around my throat, and hauled into the air.

As I choke, I begin to feel something pooling in my gut, in my core, even, like a coiled spring.

I instinctively trigger it and find myself suddenly sure of what to do.

I feel a wave begin at my core, expanding outward and suddenly I am let go and the thugs, as well as Gastor, are pressed against the wall.

I take a breath and release the wave and they fall.

Despite being excited by what I had just done (wasn’t that the Force I just used to push these thugs back?), I walk calmly forward. I wasn’t quite done with them. “Gastor here said your order wasn’t finished.” I begin. “So you will return home to wait patiently for it and return when he tells you it is ready. I hear of you bothering him again, and I will not hesitate to return.”

The thugs cower away from me. “What’re the Jedi doing here?” I hear one whimper as they take off running, bumping into each other trying to get out of the door.

“You’re training to be a Jedi?” Gastor asks, breathless in shock.

I nod. He’d never asked and I never volunteered that information.

Uncle Obi says it’s not the Jedi way to broadcast who we are. We are humble servants of the Republic and peacekeepers. That is all.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you. We’re not supposed to broadcast it.” I explain and hand him the credits needed for the seasonings.

“That’s alright. I should have guessed. You’re wearing Jedi robes, after all.”

I chuckle. “Assumptions often lead us astray, Gastor. Anyway, thanks for the seasonings. I use it on my food at the Temple.” I lean in conspiratorially. “They don’t season their food at all. It tastes so bland!”

Gastor laughs and shoos me away. “Well, don’t let me keep you away from the Temple any longer. And thank you for your assistance with those pests. They come in demanding cheap spices in bulk. I can’t keep this up.”

I sigh. “They should leave you alone, but tell me if they come back when I restock.” I call over my shoulder and wave as I leave.

I spot Master Fisto a ways away. The shop with the lotion was the same shop I got my shampoo and conditioner, so I walk over to him.

“There you are. Did you find suitable spices?” He asks.

“Yes, I did.” I reply. I felt the news of my use of the Force bubbling up, but something told me it might be better to wait til we were back at the Temple.

“Good. We’ll pick up the last things we require and return before we’re missed.” Fisto says and I jog lightly over to the bottles of hair products, grabbing the ones I typically use. It was nothing fancy, just cheap products to serve their purpose. Plus, they were very cheap.

Once Master Fisto and I are through with our purchases, we walk together toward our transport. “There’s something you want to tell me.” Mastesr Fisto muses, chuckling. “What happened in the spice shop?” Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that he already knew something happened in the spice shop. “I saw a few men running from there in terror. Did you see something that happened?” It’s clear he’s teasing, but I humor him.

“A Jedi stopped them harassing the shop owner, apparently,” I reply. “but I didn’t see them.”

Fisto laughs, dropping the facade. “Well done, Astoria. It seems you finally unlocked another aspect of your connection to the Force.”

I nod. “Thank you, Master. They were demanding spice for far cheaper than the owner was selling. I convinced them that wasn’t a good idea. I...don’t know how it happened, but I was able to stop them choking me with the Force.” I explain. “It felt...incredible!”

“Don’t abuse that power, Astoria.” Fisto cautions. “Practice restraint and only use that power when needed, and you will find yourself the better for it.”

I nod. “Yes, Master.”

The transport arrives at the Temple and we walk together, back to our rooms to put our purchased items away.

Once that’s done, it’s off to another session with Master Yoda.

This time, however, it seems to go smoother than previous sessions. Whatever I unlocked in the spice shop eases the path toward understanding meditation and using the Force as the instructor says we should be able to.

Now, I just need practice and I’ll soon be able to manipulate the Force and calm my mind on command. This is amazing!

“Learned something you have, hmm?” Master Yoda asks, smiling.

“Yes, Master, I think I have. I went out with Master Fisto to pick up more shampoo and conditioner, among other things, and I ran into some unsavory characters. They were threatening me, even had me by the throat, then something...happened, inside me, and I was able to use the Force to push them back. They ran off once they knew I was in the Jedi Order.” I explain briefly.

“Good, good, young one. Great strides in your training, you are making.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda.”

“Now, perhaps, meditation you can learn, hmm?”

I chuckle. “I hope so, Master.” I get into position and begin trying to calm my mind and focus on my connection to the force. True to Uncle Obi’s words, it was like a ball of energy, wild and untamed. Reaching out and feeling that same coil in my core that I’d felt in the spice shop, I begin to see the waves of energy focus into beams that lead off into the vastness of the Force.

I breathe deeply and try to see if I can find other people’s connections.

Right in front of me, of course, is Master Yoda’s connection. His energy ball was bigger than mine, shining out like a sun with beams also leading out in every direction.

“Yes, Astoria. These connections you feel, see all of them, you can. With training, see distant places and future events you can.”

I release my concentration and open my eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, Astoria, you can. If wills it, the Force does.”

#Fanfiction #Star Wars #SW #Tale of Astoria Kenobi #obi-wan #satine #Obitine #Anidala #SW OC #OC #Original Character #Original Female Character #Jedi OC #Uses both Clone Wars and the movies

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