#but i could never settle on who was the soldier and who was the king between riley and kate. so i let the idea go

[vbecker10]

Loki's Silent Sentry

(Part 7 - Final Part!)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Alt Ending (in progress - very sad, please read trigger warnings below and in the link)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You are not just a soldier in Asgard's Royal Army, you are Lieutenant Y/L/N, Prince Loki's personal guard, his sentry and you are not supposed to fall in love with him. If you followed your training properly, you should never have even spoken to him. As a sentry, you are expected to remain silent and invisible as you shadow your appointed member of the royal family or member of the court protectively throughout their daily tasks.

Rumors (that happen to be true) begin to circulate through the palace that you serve the younger prince of Asgard both outside and inside his chambers. There is little you can do once word of your off duty activities spread through every maid, cook, gardener and seamstress in the palace. You soon find even the soldiers in your own company are now questioning how exactly you had come to earn your seemingly quick rise to lieutenant.

As the annual Winter Solstice Ball approaches, you come to the heartbreaking realization that your relationship with Loki must come to an end if you are both to fulfill your duties.

Warnings: Angst, arguing, Thor trying to be a better brother, Odin being a terrible father... I promised fluff so fluff you shall have 💚

"If you do this..." Odin walks slowly to the edge of the steps, "You will no longer be my son."

"If you force me to do this," Loki answers defiantly, "It is because you failed me as a father."

You hold Loki close to you to keep him from moving towards his father. You can feel him shaking with anger but his eyes are full of pain. Loki and his father had their issues, no one could deny that, but you never thought Odin would be so quick to throw away what is left of their relationship.

A silence settles over the room as they hold each other's gaze, each daring the other to say something else. Before it can escalate further, Thor draws everyone's attention to himself.

For the second time today, Thor calls to begin the voting. "The vote will determined by the majority. Those among you who are for upholding the existing law shall vote aye. Those among you who wish to revise the law, thus revoking Prince Loki's title and status, will vote nay. Is that understood?"

The members of the council, along with the king and queen agree to the terms Thor explained. Thor nods to one of the senior members of the council and in response, he steps forward to the center of the throne room. A young man follows him with an open book and quill, you presume to keep track of the votes.

The older man turns to the throne and asks the king how he will vote. Loki's eyes are focused on the king as you wait for his decision.

Odin waves his hand dismissively towards you and Loki as he sits back in his throne. "Nay," he says in an emotionless voice.

Loki lowers his head and leans into you as he sighs deeply. You rub his back hoping one day he will heal from the wound his father just inflicted on him.

The council member turns to acknowledge the queen and asks her for her vote. She smiles at you and Loki, "Aye."

Loki's body relaxes the slightest bit but he tenses again when it is his older brother's turn. It's hard for you to read Thor's emotions but he slowly smiles and says, "Aye," loudly.

Having two of the three royals say aye must help sway the council, you think hopefully but you honestly aren't sure. Will most of them still side with Odin purly because he is the king? Or will he allow the vote to continue only to overrule their judgment in the end? Your thoughts race but they calm for a moment when Loki kisses the top of your head.

The senior council member moves to the center of the room and turns to face the rest of the council. He asks for all those voting aye to raise their right hand.

You turn your head, burying your face against Loki's chest, suddenly too nervous to watch the voting. He holds you tightly and you can hear him mumbling quietly as he counts along. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath as a new thought forms in your mind.

The vote doesn't matter, you think. Whether they vote to uphold the law or not, you and Loki will be together. Either as prince and sentry or as two simple Asgardians.

The doors to the throne room close behind you and Loki with a dull thud. You take a few steps down the empty hall then stop suddenly, barely able to breathe.

"Loki," you turn to face him. "Did that... did that really just happen?"

He smiles and puts one arm around your waist, his other hand resting gently on your cheek. He nods, "It did, love."

A wave of excitement floods through you as Loki bends to kiss you. You place your hands on his back, bringing him as close to you as possible. "I just... I can't believe it," you smile up at him.

He brushes your hair behind your ear and smirks, "The only concern we have now, is how quickly can you become a captain?"

"You are dismissed for the night, thank you Lieutenant Y/L/N," the queen says as the two of you reach her chambers.

You bow, "Thank you, your highness."

She smiles as she opens the door, "Have a goodnight Y/N. Tell my son I will see him at tea tomorrow afternoon."

"I will, your highness" you reply.

"Frigga, when you are not on duty, dear," she reminds you warmly.

"Frigga," you repeat with a smile. "Have a goodnight," you tell her.

You walk confidently down the hall, excitement spreads through you as you see Loki waiting for you outside of your shared chambers. You had moved in the night of the vote, almost two months ago. Loki and you still rarely crossed paths while conducting your duties during the day, but you were able to spend every night together and you both cherished that.

You throw your arms around him and he kisses your forehead then your cheek and finally your lips. "I missed you today," he tells you as he holds you close.

You take his hand as he leads you into your chambers, "I missed you too." He uses his magic to help you out of your armor as always and he chuckles when you say, "That is one of my favorite tricks of yours."

A few minutes later, the two of you sit cuddled together on the couch. He plays with your hair gently while you rest your head on his chest and your hand on his thigh. "So... I have something to tell you," you lift your head a little.

"What's that, love?" he asks.

"You know that I went to the city on my day off last week?" you ask him.

"Of course," he answers.

"Well... I didn't tell you but I ran into one of my favorite professors from when I went to university," you tell him.

"Is there a reason you didn't tell me before?" he sits up a bit.

"I wanted to wait until I got this," you take a small scroll out of your pocket and hand it to him.

He looks at you curiously as he opens it. His eyes fall to the paper and he begins to read it, his lips moving slightly.

You anxiously wait for him to finish and when he does he looks up at you, a shocked expression on his face. He looks quickly back down to read it again. "Y/N, is this-" he starts to ask but doesn't finish.

You smile, "It's an offer letter from the university. She told me they were in need of a literature professor for the summer term."

"Y/N..." he says softly. "This is... this is truly amazing."

"I checked the class times with your mother and she says it won't be an issue to schedule your meetings around them," you add. "That was why it took me so long, I wanted to tie up all the loose ends."

"Y/N, you have no idea how happy you've made me," he says as he grips your waist, pulling you onto his lap.

You run your hand lightly over his cheek and kiss him. In between kisses you tell him, "All I want to do is make you happy."

Two years later, you stand at the doors of the throne room in your dress armor at your promotion ceremony. One of the guards standing to the side of the door announces, "Lieutenant Y/L/N."

You walk down the aisle and stop in front of the royal family, kneeling in respect. The crowd gathered to either side of the room is quiet as Odin tells you to rise. He motions for you to come closer and he takes a few steps towards you.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N, you are being promoted to Captain as a testament to your commitment to protect and serve the realm. You have shown a mastery of your duties and the skills necessary to lead future soldiers," the king says loudly so the whole hall can hear him. He pins a metal to your chest and a bit quieter so only you can hear him, he says, "You will make a fine general some day."

You can't believe your ears but before you can focus too much on his comment he goes back to speaking to everyone in attendance. He explains to the crowd that you will no longer be a sentry, you will work at the academy training new recruits. He goes on to tell them you will be the youngest instructor at the academy and he will continue to expect excellence during the remainder of your career.

While he talks, your eyes wander to Loki as always. He smiles broadly at you as does his mother who is standing next to him. She whispers something to her son and he laughs a bit as he nods. You try not to make a face but you are now curious about what she said.

When Odin finishes, you kneel again and when you stand he gives you the smallest smile and says, "Captain Y/L/N."

You bow slightly as the room erupts in a series of applauds. You laugh to yourself when you look towards Thor who is clapping the loudest. He had truly become the older brother you never wanted but wouldn't give up for the world.

Loki looks as if he is going to burst with pride and his mother nods her head towards a particular section in the middle of the crowd. You glance to see where she is looking and you find your parents standing among the onlookers. You fight the urge to run over to them, it's been ages since you've seen them. They had been been assigned to guard a diplomat and his family who lived in another realm. After the shock and excitement of seeing your parents sinks in you look back towards the queen who discretely points at Loki to signal it was his doing.

You stop and turn to look at Loki with a smile but your heart skips a beat when you see him kneeling next to you with a small black box in his hand.

After the ceremony you spend time with your parents, catching up on their lives and yours. They tell you how immensely proud they are of you how much they miss you. You promise to visit them now that you will have a better schedule with the academy.

Loki walks over to where you and your parents are talking and says, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but may I borrow the captain for a few moments?"

"Of course, your highness," your father bows.

"Loki is fine," he says in a friendly manner.

"I don't think that's going to happen," you tell him honestly with a light laugh.

You hold his arm as he walks you through the garden slowly. After a few minutes, you stop to smell a beautiful burgundy rose and you are suddenly surrounded by a soft green glow. You giggle and spin as Loki's magic replaces your heavy armor with the same emerald and gold gown he had conjured for you at the ball so long ago.

"Loki?" you ask, your hand covering your mouth in surprise.

He smiles and takes your other hand in his. "Y/N, love, we've both waited so long for this moment, I didn't want to wait an extra second. I love you more then anything in the nine realms and I would do anything for you. You are the most amazing woman I have ever met and I-" he says but you interrupt him.

"Yes!" you tell him, nodding furiously.

He laughs, "You aren't going to let me finish? I had a whole little speech." You laugh and shake your head. "Ok, I'll skip to the end. Y/N, will you marry me?"

You jump into his waiting arms, "Yes, yes! A thousand times yes, Loki."

He slips the ring on your finger and kisses you. Then he gets up, picks you up easily by your waist and spins you. You giggle and when he places you back down, you kiss him and tell him you love him.

Ok... so that was the end of this fic and I really hope you like it! It's been so long since I've written anything. I started working on an alternate ending for this based on a song I have stuck in my head.

I want to warn everyone that it will not have a happy ending. It will not be fluffy. One of the main characters will die. (I'm not saying which character cause I don't want to spoil it if someone actually wants to read it but if you message me I'll tell you who so you can decide if you want to read it)

I will have warnings on it when I've posted it but I'm just giving you all a heads up. I mostly just need to write it cause it's stuck in my brain and I have to get it out. I understand it's not something everyone will want to read and I'm totally OK with that.

I won't tag anyone unless you specifically tell me you would like to be tagged.

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @chantsdemarins @simone818283 @tonystank8 @im-briana-stan @foxherder @chantsdemarins @catsladen @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @dragonmurray @honeydew3064 @malfoycassimalfoy @kneelingformyloki @newtomofgods @rayne-the-god

#tom hiddleston #hiddlestoners #loki #tom hiddleston characters #loki laufeyson #twhiddleston #hiddlesarmy #loki x reader #loki odinson #hiddlesverse #Loki's Silent Sentry #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader angst #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki friggason #loki fandom #loki x oc #loki x ofc #loki x original female character #loki x original character #loki au #asgardian #asgard #loki of asgard #thor and loki #loki angst #loki and thor

[dr3c0mix]

Bloody Red Roses

Yandere!Evil King x GN!Reader

CW: kidnapping, weirdo behavior, pretty mellow for now

👑 It was known throughout the land that King Alistair of the Obsidian Kingdom was a terrifying and cruel ruler. His heart held no mercy for those who opposed him.

👑 His dark magic was one to be feared, many know better than to ever go against him and his undead soldiers.

👑 Recently, he’s set his sights on your kingdom. He was planning on overthrowing a few lands and expanding his territory, and with your kingdom’s promising resources and location, he saw it as the perfect prize.

👑 But he isn’t a war mongering psychopath who declares war right then and there, no no he’s much more sophisticated than that, he’s going to kidnap the princess instead!

👑 He needed a bride anyway, so for him it’s a win/win!

👑 “Sir! We got her! We got the princess!” The door opening and the rattling of bones got Alistair’s attention. He sent a few of his skeleton soldiers to capture the princess whilst on a carriage ride through the borders of his territory.

👑 There were many guards protecting the area, but their weapons were no match for enemies who couldn’t die, and with a little bit of sleeping potion, carrying the princess away will be easy as pie.

👑 “Excellent~ and you brought her to my chambers like I told you correct?”

👑 They nod and scamper alongside the king to meet the princess

👑 “Oh princess~ are you awake ye- !!” His eyes widen and he cuts himself off. The person unconscious and tied up in his bed was indeed a royal, but the princess they were not.

👑 “What. Is. This?” He growls, the soldier’s bones rattle in fear

👑 “W-well you sai-“ “Does this look like a princess to you?! How am I going to take over their stupid kingdom if don’t have a bride!?” He scowls angrily.

👑 He hears you tossing and turning in your sleep, you let out a soft little squeak as you reposition yourself to be hugging one of his pillows.

👑 “…”

👑 “Uhm…your highness..?”

👑 “Leave. I’m done with your stupidity..I’ll deal with them myself..”

👑 The soldiers waste no time running off to who knows where as Alistair looks at you with cold eyes.

👑 “Hm…”

👑 He takes a seat by the bed, watching you as he figures out what to do with you.

👑 He’s trying to figure out a strategy, but he keeps getting distracted by your form. You looked so small and delicate, maybe he could…no that’s stupid he could never..could he?

👑 His thoughts plague him a awhile longer until he notices you waking up.

👑 Your muscles are weak, your head feels like it’s spinning, and it takes a bit for you to get back to your senses and realize what happened.

👑 You jolt awake, remember of the attack and almost scream at the sight of Alistair, but he was quick to covers your mouth and try to ease your panic. It took a while, but he managed to get you to stop fussing so he could take off your binds.

👑 “Apologies for this little..incident, I was supposed to take your sister..but now that you know my plan for your little kingdom, I have no choice but to keep you here. Perhaps I don’t need a princess to marry after all, I could just use you as ransom..” he chuckles.

👑 He sees the tea in your cup rippling in your shakes hold and scoffs, bringing his hand to hold your wrist to still your trembling “Oh don’t be so scared now, I don’t bite..”

👑 It was just supposed to be a means to make you stop shaking, but your skin…your big pitiful eyes staring up at him..he didn’t want to let go.

👑 So he kept you, for ransom of course, not for anything else..

👑 With you at his disposal, he started preparing negotiations with your kingdom to see what they’ll do to get you back.

👑 But in the mean time, he had to deal with you somehow..

👑 He settled on just letting you wander around the castle (with supervision of course)

👑 But then he starts to wonder what you do everyday, what did you even like to do? If you were staying with him, he might as well talk with you for the time being.

👑 It started off sort of awkward, he spotted you by the garden feeding some birds with two soldiers watching you. He approached and waved at the soldiers to leave them alone together. You thought you were in trouble but to your surprise, he just asked you how you were doing..

👑 “I uhm..heard you like going out here everyday..I figured I’d join you…Don’t take it the wrong way, I just had some..free time..that’s all..”

👑 The whole interaction was unusual. It wasn’t like him to be so casual and calm with someone, especially a royal of another kingdom.

👑 He enjoys the reactions you give him whenever he talks about his role as the dark king of the Obsidian Kingdom. Your nervous but polite smile masks your mortification of him, but it’s adorable to him nonetheless

👑 “What? A scared of the big bad king? How cute.”

👑 Your little talks slowly became frequent, for the king, it even became something he couldn’t help but do. What can he say? He was so used to your presence it seemed wrong to not talk to you at least once..plus he had to check to see if you weren’t planning an escape so..

👑 “Where have you been my little rose? I haven’t seen you all day.”

👑 His interest in your interactions turned to fondness the more he picked up on your cute little quirks. He takes note of the things you find funny or interesting, he brings them up in order to see that adorable little smile of yours, and that giggle, oh god that giggle…

👑 He denies it so much at first, but slowly starts to accept the fact that he wants- no, needs you with him

👑 Soon he started to want your presence even more, offering to eat meals alongside you instead of eating whenever he’s schedule allowed it, he started eating scheduled meals for you <3 we love self care guys

👑 “Of course I’m eating with you tonight. After all we never got to finish our conversation.”

👑 He loves watching you, even when simply eating or any mundane thing, you will more often than not catch him staring at you. You’re just so cute and soft! Definitely not like the snobby and overly stiff men and women he’s seen.

👑 He couldn’t have you trying to escape so what better plan than to keep you by his side 24/7? Then you’ll never be out of his sight!

👑 “What’s so wrong with letting you tag along my dear? I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself with me.”

👑 And what if you try and sneak out from your chambers? Clearly you need to be moved to his chambers, that way he can make sure you’re behaving.

👑 Oh and of course in case you get lost, he made you a cute collar with the royal insignia on it! Isn’t it pretty? He used your favorite colors and everything!

👑 Of course he needs to fulfill his kingly duties. But how can he leave you alone for that long? No worries, you can sit right on his lap! That way you won’t have to stand for a long time and hurt your feet.

👑 And those clothes? So simple and out of style, perhaps you should wear something more fitting to his kingdom’s styles? Like a cute outfit with lace and ruffles! You look so delicate and graceful in it! He can’t help but buy you lots more outfits like that! Tis only fair for a person of your status.

👑 “How about this one? It compliments your form…what do you mean it looks too cutesy? I think it looks perfect for you.”

👑 he’s the type to not do much physical affection, but dear god does he crave both giving and receiving it. Give him a kiss or a caress of his cheek and he struggles to keep his composure and not melt to your touch

👑 Simply put, he might not seem like it (at least he thinks he does) but he can’t live without you. He couldn’t fathom the fact he was planning on trading you for a kingdom, you’re way more valuable than some puny kingdom!

👑 He even considers his original plan, you wouldn’t mind right? Besides, he bets you look absolutely exquisite in a little wedding dress~! Even if you don’t want a dress, an elegant suit would perfect on you~!

👑 “Where do you think you’re going my rose?”

It’s finally here guys ✨✨✨ I know it’s been a while but I’ve been busy with school and genshin. Anyway we got em in the end! Thank you for being so patient guys !! qwq

#yandere #yandere x gn reader #male yandere #yandere oc #oc yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #tw yandere #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #king x reader #yandere king #evil king #opossumdoodles

[lostinwildflowers]

Summary: A young, naïve princess and a scrappy kid off the streets find themselves at odds, only to form a close connection that could cost the princess's future.

Word Count: 27.5K(...I am so sorry)

Warnings: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Pining(and a lot of it), Violence, Fighting, Illness(Not Pregnancy), Graphic Description of Death, Blood and Gore, Harsh Language/Swearing, Royalty AU, Happy Ending

A/N: Guys. I have finally finished this fic after it sitting in my drafts for OVER A YEAR! I hope the wait was worth it, please enjoy. Also this isn't beta-ed so if there are any mistakes I apologize😭 -Birch<3

Some Inspirations(full credit to the artists!!!):

Knight Levi (1)

Knight Levi (2)

Knight Levi (3)

It was close to the break of a cool, brisk dawn, and an 18-year-old boy with raven hair was being escorted by the king’s guard. The men of the guard hurriedly ushered him toward the castle gates, hoping to keep the situation quiet.

The boy had just been scooped up from the streets of the small town outside the castle where he had fought against a robbery in the town’s bank. Two large men had been knocked unconscious and tied up outside the front door while he returned the coins to the banker, who was crying uncontrollably, thanking him.

The boy’s name?

Levi Ackerman. He was skimpy, short, and looked like the butt of a joke. Yet from the tallest hill to the deepest valley across the kingdom, he was known as one of the best crime fighters in the nation.

Levi was known for his cunning, stoic nature, as well as his ability to fight with an unnatural quickness on his feet. Never once had he had a run-in with the law, he would send for the guard as soon as he started fighting the criminals. The poor guards men and women would show up to take the criminals away, only getting a quick glance at the small boy saving their town.

That’s why when the royal guard came to find him after the banking skirmish, Levi didn’t resist. He knew he wasn’t in trouble.

As they rode back toward the castle and away from the small village, Levi listened to the guard’s oblivious chatter. They wanted to recruit him to be a part of the royal guard… at the king's request? The thought surprised him, but he didn’t let that show. He knew that if he agreed to be a part of the king’s military force, he would be well taken care of and still be able to serve justice to those who needed it.

The sound of steel horseshoes clicking against the grey and black tiled rocks in the road was barely audible in comparison to the bustle of the town just outside of the castle. Levi was mounted on the back of one of the king's horses, his silver eyes narrow and cautious as he watched everyone hustle around the entourage.

Before he knew it, he was walking away from the life he was accustomed to, and as soon as he made it through the palace gates, his life changed forever. You could say it was almost difficult to keep up, but Levi knew how to quickly adapt.

He's shown the barracks and his sleeping quarters, where he was lucky enough to get a small cot in the corner away from many of the other soldiers. He caught sight of some of the soldiers and their trainees, donning stripes on their armor to show off their rank.

Levi doesn’t quite know what to make of everyone, they are all so happy, so clueless to the outside world, it almost disgusts him. But, he keeps his mouth shut and listens as he gets his tour and settles into his new life.

Bright and early the next morning, he goes to train in the sparring lot with his group of roommates. Several of them had tried to talk to him and learn about his past, but he wasn’t interested in making friends.

He watched several pairs spar without weapons before it was his turn to go. The thing about Levi that surprised all of his opponents was his strength. Despite his smaller size, he could easily surpass and beat his fellow trainees in combat. Between his different styles of movement and his speed, he was untouchable. 

Levi spent the first while at the castle doing what seemed like pointless activities to him. He knew how to unsheath a sword. He knew how to ride a horse. All of the basics were skills he inherently knew from his life on the streets fighting crime.

That's why no one was surprised when he advanced to the group of other guard trainees, who had been at the castle, learning the trade for over a year. It was strange at first, with everyone unsure of the quiet, small boy, but they eventually came to make small chat and he began to fit in.

Time seemed to slide by as fall weather started to set in. Leaves changed from dark, rich greens to playful yellows and tasteful oranges. It’s on one of these fall days, that Levi meets you for the first time. 

You were elegant, graceful, and naive at only 17, out for a walk in one of your many private courtyards. You were out strolling by yourself, as you often did. There were guards littered throughout the palace, so you weren’t too concerned about danger.

You loft around one of your favorite courtyards, the Josephina Garden Hall, blinking through the falling leaves and sighing in happiness at the breeze that floats through, carrying the last of summer’s warmth. In your lackadaisical wandering, you catch sight of a dark-haired boy around the corner.

You stay quiet and you blink in surprise when you realize he is training in your private yard. He's young, you think to yourself as you shift to stand next to some browning thistle bushes. Butterflies erupt in your belly as you take in his shirtless and lean muscular back that is facing you.

Even with his boyish age, Levi is covered in thick, strong muscle, but due to his intense practice routine, he's covered in dirt and some bruises. You could even see the pale gleam of faded scars on his chest and back, and that's when you decided you needed to know who this recruit was.

What kind of guard trainee is this? He looks young, but he seems so experienced, he couldn't have come from one of the lords, you think to yourself as you shakily emerge from your hiding spot.

You roll your shoulders back and down, lifting your chin as you walk as poised as you can. An image of grace, or so you thought. You were youthful and inexperienced, having only just gotten out of a lecture about politics and debate. Your days were spent going to classes, electives, and other menial lessons.

This was your time of day to relax, but the air suddenly changed from inquisitive to tense. Just as you started to approach the dark-haired boy, who was swinging his swords in a practiced sequence, he caught sight of you.

He flips his sword over in his hand, and pivoting on one foot, his blade just grazes your chin to lift it and look deep into your wide (colored) eyes. The slight sting of the blade causes you to jump back, your hands racing to your face to see if he drew blood.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you pull them back to see just a small droplet on the tip of your fingers, and your breathing is labored as you glare at the raven-haired boy.

Levi holds your stare as well as the stance with his blades and mutters, "Who are you and why are you watching me train?” It's silent for a moment as you process his words, the fading stinging on your chin slowing your brain down. Your mouth parts open, both in offense and shock.

He didn't know who you were.

You swallow thickly as you blink slowly once, trying to regain your composition as you reply, "It doesn't matter. You are training in a private courtyard meant for this kingdom's elite and personal guards."

His silver gaze bores into you for another minute before they roll in annoyance, his swords dropping away from you with an irritated sigh. He takes a small step backward, regaining your gaze without saying a word.

You watch him carefully, slightly nervous before dropping into a shallow curtsy. You look down and murmur, "Excuse me then." Levi takes a step to the side as you walk past him, skirts fluttering as you look straight ahead without a second thought.

Once you're out of earshot, Levi watches you leave and wander into the next garden, disappearing around the corner. Who the hell was that? He thinks to himself but brushes it off and continues with his training.

---

Later that same evening, the other recruits were laughing and chuckling after a hard day of training. Levi walked along behind them, listening to their conversations but never truly taking part in them. 

Everyone was headed back to the barracks, slowly wandering through the outskirts of the castle while trying to not be too loud. He kept one hand on the hilt of his blade, his gaze trailing away from the crowd of trainees in a practiced and calculated manner.

Colt, Porco, and Zeke were leading the group, some of the advanced trainees Levi had come to know. They were cracking jokes and talking about what was for dinner, but Levi didn't care for their conversation. He found more interest in listening to Reiner and Bertholdt who were in front of him.

The two young boys were discussing the upcoming rotations for the guard trainees. Each rotation group was stationed somewhere different around the castle and courtyards, and they rotated every couple of weeks so the guards could defend anywhere they were needed.

Reiner was more worried about who he was going to be stationed to watch, which made Levi roll his eyes, his silver gaze locking onto motion around the upcoming corner.

A split second later, he sees your figure surrounded by a flock of maids on your every side. Then, just a few paces behind them were your two female guards, Pieck and Annie.

His eyes narrow as the pieces click together in his head. He's interrupted when the other male guards he was walking with recognize you. “Good evening, milady,” Colt chirps out, a wide smile on his face as the group comes to a halt.

You had been talking to one of your maids about some kind of fabric for your next dress but were interrupted by the sight of the guards in front of you. You give the men at the front a sweet smile as the group of trainees all drop to one knee in a respectful bow.

All except for one.

The dark-haired boy, you think as he locks eyes with you. You nod silently to the maids, who skirt around all of the men and head toward your quarters. You continue to smile gently as they leave, and you address the trainees with a quiet and pleasant, "At ease soldiers."

Zeke offers you a wide grin and says, “Good evening, princess! Lovely weather we've had today, perhaps we can get some musicians to play in the back courtyard for you after dinner tonight.”

While Zeke is talking, you don't break eye contact with Levi, who is still standing at the back, not kneeling like the rest. You see Reiner elbow Levi in the knee, motioning to kneel in respect, but Levi continues to stare at you.

As Zeke finishes speaking, you shift your gaze to him slowly and agree, "Wonderful idea, Zeke. Please alert some butlers and other maids to gather everyone, especially my family and the lords. Reiner, Porco, join him, please?"

Zeke humbly agrees, as do the others, and you give them a dismissive nod, saying, "Thank you, gentlemen. Make sure to get my favorite violinist!" As the three blondes rise and disappear around the corner you just came from, you are left with Colt and Bertholdt kneeling, and the dark-haired boy still standing.

Levi's eyes are calculating and firm, and you nod to Colt and Bertholdt, relieving them from their bows of respect, heading past you and to the barracks. Colt turns around when he realizes Levi isn't following him but freezes at the showdown playing out in front of him.

You square up with Levi, taking a few steps toward him before he says, “You’re a princess? Makes sense why I caught you so off guard. You were loud, obviously in my line of sight, and an easy target who can’t even protect herself.”

A gasp sounds out as Colt gapes at the harshness of Levi's words, but the dark-haired boy doesn't say anything. And neither do you. You simply stare at where Levi’s head had been moments before as the boy walks past you, brushing past the other trainees. He disappears down the hallway where Colt and Bertholdt had been heading, straight for the barracks. 

Annie and Pieck are still standing behind you, and when you don't move for a second, Pieck rests her hand on your shoulder. "Princess Y/n? Are you alright?"

You don't say anything, but turn to face Annie instead, a snarl now etched onto your usually kind features. There is a fire burning in your (colored) eyes as you give her a cold look and state, "Teach me to fight."

---

The training session with Annie was just coming to an end, with your muscles sore and aching and your chest heaving to catch your long-gone breath. It was a long and brutal session, as Annie wasn't forgiving and it was warm as could be outside despite it being the middle of fall.

It didn't help that you were in your new fitted armor that Pieck helped you choose - it was heavy and there were many layers to keep you protected. There was a well-fitting breastplate that was engraved with your family’s name and emblem, cuffs for your forearms, and even protective plates for your calves, thighs, and biceps.

It was intricate and beautiful, with each piece perfectly tailored to your body. The one downside - it was heavy. With the rays of the autumnal sun beating down and carrying the extra weight you weren't used to, it was tough on your body.

Annie being a deadly threat didn't really help either, but at least her blade was only a wooden practice sword.

Her weapon came down fast and hard in a never-ending wave of attacks that were perfectly timed, accurate, and most of all, deadly.

With a fast nudge from her wooden blade, your sword easily flew to the ground, clattering against the hard-packed dirt. You were out of breath, with your hair all mussed up and grime smudged across your cheek from your hours of practice.

Silver eyes were watching from a distance in the trainee’s practice area, but you were too tired to notice anything. Instead, you were focused on Annie, who was holding her own sword up to your throat, much like Levi did two weeks ago.

"You've got a long way to go," is the only thing she says. You sigh deeply as she takes a step back and drops her sword, turning to walk away.

"I'm going to clean up, Pieck is here to watch you," Annie calls over her shoulder as she sheaths her practice blade back into her belt, and you give her a feint wave as you locate Pieck near the edge of the training field.

You watch as Annie’s blonde head disappears behind some shrubbery before slumping unceremoniously to the ground, a groan falling from your lips.

A few pants escape you as you close your eyes, a wave of exhaustion flooding over you. You try to calm the erratic beating of your heart and slow your breathing down as a light breeze begins to blow through. Leaves stir up on the ground, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

While your eyes are closed, everything somehow seems to get darker, and the breeze seems to stop just a moment later. Your (colored) eyes flutter open and up, leaving you face-to-face with the dark-haired boy.

You groan again and move to get up as Levi glimpses down at you and he states blankly, "You need practice." You shuffle to your feet shakily, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before opening them and answering him with, “Yes. I know. Thank you, soldier.” 

“It’s Levi,” he cuts you off firmly, "Levi Ackerman.”

You squint at him silently, leaning down to pick up your fallen sword without a word. A small puff of air leaves your mouth as your hand wraps around the hilt of the blade and you mutter, “Well, Levi Ackerman, I’m practicing, and you should be too.”

The dark-haired boy simply scoffs and says “I'm already better than you in all aspects of combat, you need the practice more than anything. I’m not even sure why you’re out here, shouldn’t you be learning how to sew or something?”

Your hand falters on the grip of your sword for a second before your gaze hardens and you snap, “As you said, I need to learn to protect myself, and I'm working toward that goal.”

You don't hesitate a moment after that, choosing to turn away from him and follow Annie to wherever she had disappeared. Levi is left standing behind you as you storm away, quiet as he takes in your retreating appearance.

Pieck had caught sight of your small spat with Levi, and as she followed you out of the practice field, she shot an icy glance toward the dark-haired recruit.

---

Your days were endlessly busy, and you were the most exhausted you had ever been in your entire life, with meetings with potential princes, lords, and suitors, going to your lessons to learn about foreign policy, hosting balls, developing legislature, and more. 

On top of that, you were still determined to train with Annie and Pieck when you had a moment free. Annie focused on teaching you sword techniques and improving your reaction time, while Pieck focused on sequences and how to use them while in a fight.

You were slowly improving with every day you practiced. You were becoming leaner, and building more muscle. You were less quick to tire, you didn’t lose your breath as much, and you were getting to the point where you could occasionally match Annie’s blows. 

Your mother and father weren’t so sure about you learning to fight, but your elder brothers had all learned, so they accepted that it was something you wanted to do. Your mother thought it was “unladylike”, but your father thought it was a good idea that you knew the basics of protecting yourself if you needed to.

"Slow!” Annie's yell comes at you as she spins and slashes her sword toward your ribcage, her aim constantly perfect. You manage to dodge her attack before you parry your blade against hers, using your body weight to push her back a step.

The two of you were sparring in one of the private courtyards this particular day, while Pieck stood guard not too far off.

The two of you circled each other before Pieck called out, “I think that's enough for today, you two, Annie, it's time for us to go on patrol. Colt and Porco will be on guard while we are gone.”

You were in an intense staring battle with Annie, who breaks her gaze away from yours to nod at Pieck. You groan and whine out, “But Pieck, I'm not tired yet, I can still practice for another hour!”

Quiet footsteps behind you make your head turn, and you suddenly see a blade coming down toward your face. A flash of fear runs through you, and you instantaneously react, bringing your sword up to catch the opposing blade.

You just barely catch it in time, and you realize your heart is pounding in your chest as the initial rush of adrenaline burns off. Shock is evident on your face as your lips part in a gasp and your eyes widen, but you soon frown when you are met with that new yet familiar silver gaze.

"Then let's fight for another hour," the low voice comes. 

Annie and Pieck had both drawn their swords, just to find the dark-haired boy named Levi was the assailant. Dressed in his practice armor, the silver metal covering his body reflected the same color as his eyes. 

One of his swords was drawn, the blade pushing down on your own, leaning toward your face. You could see the concentration in his brow, but you weren’t about to give up and lose. Stalemate it is then, you think to yourself as you brace against Levi.

At that moment, Colt and Porco walk into the yard, suited up in their new armor, their eyes wide when they catch sight of you and Levi. Pieck sighs and walks over to them, briefly giving them the rundown of events before she and Annie leave for their patrol. 

Colt and Porco, each respectively, take a position on either side of the yard, giving you and Levi plenty of room to fight. When your eyes meet Levi’s again, you find him with what could be considered a smirk resting on his lips.

"Let's fight, princess.”

At that, he pushes his blade off of you in a sudden burst of energy, spinning away quickly to avoid any counterattack from you. This gives you time to draw your sword in an effective manner to combat his every blow.

Levi draws his second sword, now dual-wielding in the style that no one seemed to be able to replicate. You grit your teeth and go after him swinging, allowing the metal of your blade to clash against his, your footsteps shuffling in the fine gravel and dirt. Your hair was falling out of the already messy ponytail it had been in, the (colored) locks falling into your eyes.

You felt unkempt, wild, and stronger than you ever had before. And this time when you were fighting, you had the physical strength to show it.

While you were on the muscle and ready to attack at every movement, Levi was at ease, effortlessly matching your blows; twisting and flipping just out of range of your blade.

Eventually, Levi starts to get the upper hand, and without you realizing it, he gets you backed up and pinned to the wall. In an instant, one of his blades flicks yours to the ground before being pointed at your throat, while his other one comes up to point at your belly.

He's panting now though, with sweat running down his forehead and neck, disappearing behind the silver chainmail covering his chest. The sun just barely catches his left eye as he gazes at you, and it glows like a hot ore on a fire.

It's silent between you two, your blade is on the ground so there is no way to defend yourself, and your hands are by your sides. At that moment, you are out of breath, beaten, with nothing to say for yourself.

Levi pauses for a moment before dropping his swords and resheaths them, one on his back and the other at his hip. He takes a deep breath through his nose and gives you a small, shallow bow and a quiet mumble of, “Better.”

He takes a few swift steps back and jogs out of the yard, giving Colt a simple nod before disappearing toward the barracks. You're left standing there, dazed, as you watch his armor glitter and dance in the disappearing rays of sunlight.

You hardly notice it, but a faint flush has covered your face, and as you touch your cheek, you realize it's warm.

---

The sun had sunk below the horizon and the coolness of the full autumn nights was bone-chilling. While you had gotten cleaned after some flower arranging and training exercises that afternoon, there was a part of you that wanted to get messy.

So, you decided to go to the forges and clean your practice gear. The plates had been coated with mud and grass from the numerous times you hit the ground while sparring Annie, and there was no doubt dust caked onto the cloth from the dirt Levi kicked up when he surprised you.

It was late in the evening, several hours after dinner, and one of the times of the day that you were allowed to be alone for just a few minutes. Not wanting to make a scene, you chose to go to one of the smaller forge rooms, one that you knew not many people used.

You took a few moments, setting up a few candles on the workbench and lighting them, stoking the fire in the hearth to warm up the small workshop. There were several tables set up in the room, embroidered cloths carrying the royal insignia, others holding stacks of bent swords and dented plates of armor.

On your workbench, someone had left out a few delicate trinkets and other lightweight tools, and you find yourself smiling at the meaning behind them. A small forged flower? Perhaps for a lover back home, you wonder to yourself as you gently move it to the far side of the table.

You can’t help but sigh in happiness at the quiet sounds of the workshop; the crackle of the small fire burning in the hearth of the forge, the distant sounds of drunk men happy with their work for the day, and even the call of a spotted owl hooting in the distance.

The ability to be alone for a few minutes was much appreciated after the clashing of swords all afternoon, and you quietly start to work on polishing your armor as a warm, orange glow begins to fill the room. The faint smell of wood smoke fills the air, accompanied by the dark and rich aroma of the oil used to clean your armor and blade.

Time seems to tick by slowly, and you don’t even realize there is moonlight shining through the window until the sound of footsteps approaching catches your attention. Your (colored) orbs are snatched away from the rhythmic movement of polishing your thigh plate at the noise and you cease motion as you look to see who it is.

As you turn to face the entrance to the forge, you are met with the shadowed face of Levi, who when he notices you, his eyes widen ever-so-slightly and he bows in recognition and murmurs, “Princess”.

You can feel your eyes narrow in immediate suspicion at the sudden respect he is showing you. He quietly walks past you, moving to sit at the table closest to the forge, the two of you facing each other, yet tables apart.

You notice he is carrying his own gear, and you soften the intensity of your expression and answer him with a short, "Good evening, Levi,” before returning to your thigh plate with the small rag.

It’s quiet for another moment, but the simple silence that had once surrounded you has grown thick and uneasy. You could feel yourself shifting on the bench you were sitting on, realizing you were in a much more casual outfit than you typically wore. It wasn't nearly as extravagant as your day-to-day dresses, but you still felt comfortable enough to be seen by your guards and maids. 

So with it being Levi sitting in the same forge as you, it made you uneasy. You watch him pull a stool out from the corner of your eye, the wooden legs scratching against the ashen ground near the forge’s mouth. What had been a harmonious sound from the forge becomes the sharp hiss of logs burning and the soft zings of metal being wiped clean and sharpened.

You feel the need to say something, anything, and so you mumble carefully, "You fought well today.” You dunk your rag in more oil, (colored) eyes cast down toward your hands. You can feel Levi’s heated gaze snap onto your frame, and the intensity of them is like daggers digging into your sides.

"I fight well every day,” he almost snarls. You feel your heart practically jump to your throat at the harshness of his tone, and you keep your eyes on cleaning a piece of mud off of a shoulder pauldron. Suddenly you feel foolish for saying something, and it's quiet for another moment before he pipes back up.

“But thank you," he murmurs, softer this time, "You are getting better, some of your combinations are pretty good.”

His words are simple, and straight to the point. They show no signs of being impressed or disappointed, it was like he was simply stating your fighting abilities like they were facts. Your cleaning motions completely stop as you process his words, and you can’t stop yourself from looking up to view his lithe figure. 

Levi is working on cleaning his dual blades when your gaze lands on him, and he doesn't look up when your eyes find him. He doesn’t even seem bothered that he gave you what could be taken as a compliment, especially with how he has acted toward you.

But this is the first time you truly get to lay eyes on the scrappy boy, taking in his limber build. He's not large. Everything about him seems to be small, regardless of the obvious muscling on his frame. 

You know he's strong despite his size, and he is lethally fast, which proves to be a deadly combination. The boy sitting across the room from you has something about him that sets him apart, and you just can’t put your finger on what it is.

As you go back to cleaning your armor, you try to piece together a possible backstory for him. You know he didn’t live in the town connected to the castle, no one here knew him. He was around your age, and he knew how to fight, but he wasn’t from a royal or respected family.

You look up from your gear, setting everything off to the side and you state out of nowhere, “Levi, I want you to train me.”

It's quiet again, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you wait anxiously. You then hear his blades hit the wooden table in a sudden clatter, drawing your gaze to the intricately designed swords. 

No one else had swords like him. Custom designed, but embellished with the royal insignia, they were specifically made for his fighting style. You had wondered about them, and why your parents would allow for a random boy to have custom swords if he were just to be joining the guard.

You pause for a moment, thinking about how you made a major mistake asking this of him, and you look up to meet his gaze. And now, he's looking at you.

The expression on his face is one you don't know how to digest. He always seemed to look mad, bored, or sad when you watched him from a distance, but now you had no idea how to get a read on him. If you were to say what he looked like, you thought that he looked excited. 

Levi stands up from his stool, the wood once again scraping against the ash-covered floor. His boots crunched on the thin layer of ash, but he didn’t seem to mind as he secured his blades on the table. 

He moves with a grace you never noticed and he walks around the edge of your table to lean his hands on it directly across from you. 

“No,” he says, his gaze still unreadable. You blink up at him, your fingers nervously weaving together in and out before you plead, “Teach me, there is no way I can get better if I don’t learn.”

You can feel his disbelief when he tuts and pushes off the table to stand up straight, looking down at you. His arms move to cross his chest and he responds again, “No, I’m not going to teach you.”

A wave of frustration washes over you and you stand up and frown before spitting out, “You have to!” Levi rolls his eyes and sighs, “I don’t have to do anything.”

You walk around the edge of the table to get closer to him and you point your finger at his chest and bark out, “You have to listen to me, I am your superior!” Levi smacks your finger away with his hand and is quiet for a moment.

His gaze shifts, and suddenly you can read his expression again. A challenge. His eyes become steely in the light of the forge, and you can see them flicker between your eyes, down your frame to your boots, and back up again.

You suddenly feel too warm standing there, and you uncomfortably shift side to side as you feel him silently judge you. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Here I am in clothes not suitable outside of my quarters, this guy is judging me after beating me today, and I’m begging him to train me. Get it together! The words flood into your mind as you stand there, and you cross your arms over your chest to try to cover up in insecurity.

“What’s in it for me?” he asks coolly, his gaze boring into yours as he awaits a response. You blink in disbelief and stutter, “Uh, uhm, I don’t know. What do you want?”

Levi rolls his eyes and walks back over to his gear, sliding the swords back into their sheaths. He folds up his armor and puts it back into a leather bag that he brought it in. He seemed dismissive and you were racking your brain before an idea caught in your brain.

“Land!” you call out loudly, before covering your mouth. Levi freezes and turns to look at you with one of his brows lifted in question. You take a quick breath and continue, “Land, for your family, here around the castle. That way you can see them whenever you want.”

Levi continues to put his stuff away and replies blankly, “My family is dead. I am alone.” A pit builds in your stomach and you usher out, “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” Levi glances at you and shrugs, “I’ve worked alone since I was a child.”

You are quiet again and let him walk past you toward the mouth of the forge. Just as he’s about to leave you mutter, “Please, Levi. I want to learn.”

He pauses behind you at the door, your backs facing each other. It’s quiet, with just the sound of the fire splitting open another log. You can hear the fluttering of the owl’s wings outside the window, and you turn to face the door, afraid he left.

Instead, you are met with Levi’s gaze watching your dejected figure. You can see he is calculating in his head, thinking, planning, and ready to say something that will destroy your hopes.

“You have no idea what you’re signing up for, princess,” is what falls from his mouth. It’s quiet, so quiet you almost miss it. A flicker of hope blooms in your belly and excitement takes over as you realize the implications of his words.

You take a step toward him, your hands clenching by your sides as you whisper, “Try me.”

Something flashes across his face, another unreadable emotion. He stares into your eyes and replies, “9 o’clock tomorrow night outside the Josephina Garden Hall. Don’t be late.” 

Not a moment later, and he’s gone.

---

It’s just starting to get late, with the moon climbing higher and higher into the sky. You are nervously making your way to the Josephina Garden Hall on the south side of the castle, opposite the barracks. 

You could hardly focus in your classes all day after the interaction with Levi in the forge room the night before. He was going to train you!

The training at night part made you a little nervous though, as you had really only practiced during the day and under heavy supervision. It was a windy night too, so you wore an extra layer underneath your practice gear so that you would stay warm.

A chill runs up your spine as you hurriedly make it inside the grandeur gates of the Josephina Garden Hall, and you take a deep breath as you start scoping the area for Levi. 

You had informed Pieck and Annie of your new training program with Levi, and both of them were hesitant but supportive. They were both standing at the opposite sides of the gates when you entered, and you quickly waved at them in recognition.

Just as they start to wave back at you, there is a sharp and quick blow to your back that knocks you to the ground. Air rushes out of your lungs and your forehead knocks into the grey, rocky tile with a loud crack!

Ow, ow, ow! The pain sets in quickly, and you can tell you’ve cut your forehead, you’ve likely got gravel or dirt in your palms, and there is going to be a bruise in the middle of your back in the morning.

“Lesson 1 - always keep your defenses up,” the low voice comes from above you. You are trying to decipher the words when panic begins to set in. You couldn’t catch your breath.

You don’t think you’ve ever experienced so much breathlessness, and you roll over onto your back, gasping for air. In doing so, the voice, which belonged to Levi, rings out again, “Lesson 2 - don’t give yourself an opening for the enemy to disarm you.”

In a quick motion, his boot flicks your practice sword right out of its sheath on your hip. The wooden blade flips perfectly into his hand, and in an instant, the blade is pointing at your throat.

Blinking rapidly while trying to regain your breath, you take in Levi’s appearance. He was wearing a dark cloak, and his face was shadowed in the light of the moon. He looked… eerie. And for the first time since you had met Levi, you felt scared of him.

“As I said, princess, you’ve got no idea what you’re in for”, he spits out, dropping your sword next to your head. You shuffle into a sitting position, chest still heaving. Your mind was an absolute whirlwind due to the lack of oxygen and the speed and accuracy with which he evaluated your fighting knowledge.

You frown and grab your wooden practice blade, putting it back into your sheath before scrambling to your feet to face him. You pant for a moment and then say, “Then teach me how to be better.”

Levi turns to face you, the moonlight casting him in a silver glow. He cocks his head to the side slightly before he replies, “Your reaction time is slow, you move loudly, and you are uncoordinated.”

You stand still for a moment, taking in his words. You shrug and ask, “So how do I fix all that?” Levi squares up with you and says, “Well with someone of your skill level, you can’t work on it all at once. You need to learn the pieces individually and then start putting them together.”

He motions to a tree where you can just make out the figure of a spotted owl, the one you had seen the night before! Levi starts, “An owl doesn’t start out as a silent flier. It first must learn how to flap its wings to get in the air before it worries about how quiet it is.”

You nod in understanding as the owl turns its head, flaps its wings a few times, and then glides off into the woods outside of the courtyard. A small shift on your heel and you face Levi again and call out, “Let’s go again!”

---

That first training session was the start of a brutal and grueling process to get you in fighting shape. Levi was a good teacher, surprisingly, but he was relentless. For every time you messed up, you had to get it right three times in a row.

The weeks started to slide by, and you were getting stronger, faster, and more deadly. Winter has arrived in its full glory - frigid winds, iced-over paths, and inches of snow every morning. The pines in the forest had started to get weighed down by all the icicles hanging on, and the horses were blanketed every night to keep them warm.

It was hard, practicing in the cold. The dry, cold air made it hard to breathe when you were working to the point of exhaustion, and when the sun shone down just right, you were positive you were going to go blind.

That didn’t deter Levi, though. You had managed to get better with a blade, but Levi insisted you needed to learn how to fight hand-to-hand since you “were so good at losing your sword”.

So that led you to your current predicament - being across from Levi trying to dodge his punches. They were fast, one after the next, after the next. Perfectly timed with an accuracy you didn’t know someone could obtain.

You jump out of the way as fast as you can, but a blow to the rib catches you off-guard and has you keeled over, your breath puffing in the frigid air. The pain is sharp, but you’ve started to learn how to manage it better, so you stand back up and form your fists into balls.

You attempt to throw a weak punch toward Levi’s abdomen, but he catches your hand with ease. He’s strong enough that he pulls your hand up to eye level, looking at the form of your fist.

“Okay, first off, this isn’t how you should make a fist when throwing a punch,” Levi says to you, pointing to the way you had your right thumb in the middle of your fist. He pulls your hand apart and makes it flat before reforming it into a fist, wrapping your thumb around the outside of your middle and pointer fingers.

You feel a wave of heat wash over your face as you realize he’s close to you, touching your hand. You try to pay attention to what he’s telling you, but it’s like you are just now realizing the ashen color of his eyes is flecked with the faintest hint of light blue.

“If you had actually hit me with the fist you had, you would have broken your thumb in an instant,” he explains, dropping your hand and showing you the fist you had made but with his hand instead. You don’t expect to almost miss the warmth of his touch when he moves away, but you shake the thought away as soon as it comes.

You step off to the side, letting out a small breath that billows around your head before throwing a punch in the air with your fist in the correct position. You turn to gauge Levi’s opinion of your punch, and you see what resembles a small, half-smile on his face.

Levi sighs and shakes his head, “Not quite. You’re twisting your arm as you deliver the punch. You want your arm and shoulder to follow directly behind wherever your fist is landing. If you are moving to break someone’s nose, you want it all to be in a straight line.”

He demonstrates a quick punch in front of you, and you can see the line he’s talking about from his fist, through his arm to his shoulder. You take a deep breath, trying to focus as you once again square up with Levi. You hone in on his nose, and in a flash, your fist flies out in front of you.

It surprises both of you when your fist makes contact with his jaw, and there is a clack as Levi’s teeth clamp down together in pain. Your (colored) eyes are wide as Levi takes a step back, one of his hands coming up to cup his cheek.

Your fist is still hanging in the air from where you just punched him in the face and panic sets in as you realize you just punched him. “Oh-oh my gosh, Levi, I’m so sorry!” the words come rushing out of your mouth, and you take a step forward with your hands covering your face.

There is a slight grimace on Levi’s as he works his jaw up and down to dissipate any pain. He lets out a quiet snort and utters, “That’s more like it, even if your aim was a little off.”

Worry is etched across your features as you take in the growing red mark on Levi’s cheek. “Levi, I am so sorry, please let me take care of that,” you plead as you move around the side of him to get a better look at it in the light. Levi just brushes you off, waving his hand dismissively, “It’s alright, I’ve had much worse.”

You sigh and mumble, “I believe that but that doesn’t mean you need to suffer now. Please, Levi, let me at least get some ice for you so it doesn’t bruise as badly.”

He glances at you from the corner of his eye as he unwraps his hands, quiet and calculating. A moment passes but then he gives you a small nod, leaning down to pick up the extra wraps he brought, and motions for you to lead the way.

It’s a quiet walk back to the barracks, with only the snow crunching underfoot. You keep an eye on your surroundings, noting the guards just coming back from patrol in the forest, and the next rotation of trainees leaving to watch the castle walls.

Before you know it, the two of you are sliding into the small medicine room at the entrance to the barracks, and you grab a soft cloth and a stool. You have Levi sit on the stool while you run back outside, scooping up some of the fresher, cleaner-looking snow from outside the building.

Ducking back inside, you press the snow down into a ball inside the cloth, wrapping it until it is softly padded. You give Levi a small smile as you offer the rag to him, and he quietly grunts in thanks, bringing the cooled wrap up to his face and laying it on his cheek.

You rock back and forth on your heels a few times before asking, “So, uh, what are we going to practice next?” Levi looks up at you through his dark lashes, his eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. He’s quiet, which is something you’ve come to notice about him.

Levi never seems to have a lot to say, and only really talks when spoken to. Your thoughts are interrupted when he mutters, “You still need to work on your hand-to-hand combat skills, your aim is off.”

He shuffles the ice on his face a little bit, a soft hiss sliding through his gritted teeth. Your brows furrow and you reach out, moving to pull the ice from his face to see what his cheek looks like.

While you’re busy looking at the slight purple and pink marks blooming on his cheek, Levi is looking at you. He hasn’t spent much time with you in such close proximity, as he typically kept you at arm’s length.

But up close… you were pretty. He should expect that- you are a princess after all. But there’s a certain natural aura that he never noticed before, a sort of kindness written into your features. Maybe it was the way your (colored) orbs flickered from one dark spot on his jaw back to his eyes to see if he was okay.

Maybe it was the gentleness in your touch as you pulled his hand down from his face so you could look at it. It could have been the tenderness and honest sorrow in your voice when you apologized for hurting him.

Your hair, whilst messy from fighting, somehow suited you despite its frazzled appearance. The curve of your mouth when your lips were parted while thinking matched the ferocity you had when mad and the joy in your heart when you laughed.

Levi felt a wave of emotion run through him while you muttered to yourself how you needed to get better and train harder. It was intense, a feeling that shook him right to his core.

Was it… longing?

“When I was living on the street, alone,” he whispered, his voice so low and quiet you thought you were hearing things. You dialed in on Levi and the way his eyes were slightly glazed over as if he was in another world.

He pauses for a moment, swallows thickly, and then continues, “When I lived on the streets, there was this little girl I helped out. She was probably 7, maybe 8 years old. Didn’t have any family, no place to live. But I helped her.”

You are quiet as you listen to him, not wanting to upset him, you nod along. He glances up at you and starts again, “I would get her food, clean water, maybe even a place to sleep at night. In turn, she would find me medicine and bandages.”

Levi looks back down at the ground and his eyes flutter close as he mutters, “I was a sick kid, but she helped me when I needed her. I wonder where she ended up some days, and if she’s still as kind as she was to me.”

You shift your weight slowly, crossing your arms over your chest, and mumble back, “I can imagine she’s helping people, a good heart is a good heart. No amount of wounds and scarring will stop someone’s true nature.”

Suddenly, as if a flip switches in his mind, Levi’s eyes snap open and a hardened look covers his face. He stands up, slamming the snow-filled cloth down on the table and he practically snarls, “You would have no idea, all you’re used to is a protected life within these walls. You’ve never experienced what it’s like to live every day not knowing whether or not you’re going hungry.”

He lunges towards the door, pauses for a second, and spits over his shoulder, “Not everyone is as privileged as you, princess.” The words are as cold as ice, and you feel like your head has just been plunged into a bucket of water.

Hurt washes over you as you watch him disappear deep into the barracks, and you slam the door shut as you collapse onto the stool where he was just sitting. A sob tears itself from your throat before you can stop it, and you wonder why you’re crying.

Is it because his words are true? Is it because he was vulnerable with you? Or was it because you were starting to consider him a friend, and he only saw you as a pawn in the overall game of royal hierarchy?

---

A few days have tensely come and gone, and you and Levi haven’t spoken to each other since his outburst. You had buried yourself deep into studying, you figured that way you could stay out of his way and better yourself while doing so.

You hadn’t bothered practicing while being nose-deep in your books, and Annie and Pieck had started to notice. They had seen the dejected look on your face when you made it back to your room that night and how you shut the door without another word, locking them out.

They didn’t bother asking what was wrong when they saw Levi practicing with the other trainees and not with you. So, instead, they guided you to and from lectures, meetings, and other royal duties without hesitation.

There was one day where the sun seemed to break through the sky a little clearer and Pieck decided you needed to get some fresh air. She was waiting outside of your room, knocking gently before she called, “Princess Y/n, come out! You need some fresh air and out of those books.”

You groan at the distant call of Pieck’s voice, but deep down you knew she was right. You set a small bookmark between the pages of the current novel you were reading and begrudgingly call back, “Give me a moment to change into something more suitable for outside!”

Pieck smiles as she hears you fumble around for a few minutes before she hears your door click unlocked and you appear beside her. Dressed in clothes more appropriate for the winter weather outside, there is a disgruntled look on your face that says you aren’t happy with her interrupting you.

She rolls her eyes and says, “Come on, you know this will do you some good. Annie is already down at the stables getting our horses ready. It’s a nice day out and we thought you might like to go for a ride.”

The strained look on your face shifts to one of easeful thanks as you and Pieck make your way down to the stables. From a distance, you could see Annie’s blonde hair peeking out from underneath her cape, and beside her were three of your favorite horses.

The first was Ramon, a deep cherry bay with a small white star on his forehead. He was an absolute sweetheart and enjoyed going out on the trails. The second was your favorite mare, named Vairon, who was a small white and black spotted Leopard Appaloosa. She was a little on the fiery side, but you really enjoyed her company.

The third was an old, kind stallion named Enfés. He was a dark, seal bay that could almost look black in the middle of winter. While his name literally meant “hell”, the blaze of white hairs on his face showed his older age and the kindness in his eye.

You give each of the horses a quick rub between their eyes before you look to your two guards and ask, “Who wants who?” Annie was already holding Enfés since she tacked him up last and she replies, “I can ride Enfés since I already have him.”

You nod and look to Pieck and she shrugs with a smile saying, “Pick whoever you want!” You smile back with a giggle and mumble, “Alright, I’ll ride Vairon, I haven’t ridden her in a while.” You move to grab the mare, carefully guiding her out of the tacking area and out into the snowy, grass field just outside.

The three of you mount your horses and set off towards the woods. There were hundreds of miles of trails around the castle that you enjoyed riding through. In the summer, you could gallop your horses down the paths and out onto the open moors without hesitation.

But now, in the middle of winter, you were limited in how fast you could travel. While it was a warmer day and the snow was melting, you still had to be cautious of the slick ice underneath the snow that could make your horse slip.

You take a deep breath through your nose, the cool air burning your airways with a slight sting that is refreshing. You let the air slide back out through your lips, the warmth from your breath instantaneously freezing. It momentarily blocks your vision, and when it clears, your stomach drops at the sight in front of you.

Bandits.

There were several hooded figures, too many for you to get an accurate count in the split second you realized they were in front of you. Pieck and Annie had caught sight of them too, motioning to quickly move to the side of the path. There were only three of you, and at least a dozen invaders.

You can feel a wave of nervousness wash over you as you try to draw your sword from your sheath. You glance back and forth between the figures closing in on you and the hilt of your sword, which was caught on your cloak.

Crap, crap, crap! Is all that is racing through your mind as you struggle to get a hold of your only weapon. A cry rips through the air as Annie moves to fend off the first round of attackers. In a desperate motion, you let go of your reins to grip the hilt of your sword with both hands.

With another strong tug, your sword comes loose, and just in time for an arrow to whiz through the air near you. Another pang of fear runs through you, and in a panic, you jump off of Vairon, the mare instantly turning and bolting as the sounds of battle rapidly approach.

You try to steady yourself and in your mind, thinking through your training with both Levi and Annie. Just as you get a grip on your surroundings, a dark figure appears in the corner of your vision with a blade directed at your head. You duck on instinct, sticking your foot out in a way you had seen Levi trip someone many times.

The bandit trips over your extended leg, falling to their knees as you advance behind them, kicking them in the back with your other leg. This seems to knock the air out of them, leaving the bandit out of commission for a moment while you glance to see how Annie and Pieck are doing.

“Pieck?” you call nervously when you don’t see her black locks of hair anywhere. “Pieck?!” you yell more loudly when you don’t get a response. In your moment of distraction, you don’t notice another bandit sneaking up on you, and your attention draws back to the invader you had already knocked to the ground.

Just as you move to attempt to knock the invader out, the second bandit attacks. You’re too slow when you finally realize they are there, and shock rips through your nervous system as a searing hot pain takes over your left arm. You cry out, your voice shredding at the coarseness of your yell, and it’s loud enough to catch Annie’s attention.

“Princess Y/n!” she shouts towards you, parrying blow after blow with three attackers on her at once. You don’t get a chance to respond when you hear a voice exclaim, “A princess? She’ll be worth a lot if we can capture her!”

“It’s a shame that won’t be happening today,” a low voice barks from someplace behind you. The second invader launches at you, holding the blade that had cut you up to your throat. A gasp of pain leaves your lips and the guy who had a hold of you grabs you by the shoulder and yells, “Quiet, princess! Or I will have your head.”

He turns to face the unidentified voice you had heard, and you shuffle along to avoid any more injury. You hear the voice again, and through your pain and blurry vision, you can start making out a figure.

This time you know who the baritone belongs to as it rings out, “I can’t allow that either.” Before you can comprehend it, Levi is off his horse and lunges toward the bandit. You see a slight flick of his sword, and then you feel the pressure of the blade on your neck disappear.

With a shaky glimpse toward the ground, you can see the bandit’s severed hand still holding the sword. A scream splits the air behind you as the harsh pain sets in for the bandit, who steps away from you and tries to run. Levi is faster though, and he spins around, slashing his dual blades again.

You close your eyes as you hear the bandit’s body hit the cold, hard dirt beneath him. Another wave of agony washes over you as you feel warmth start to seep down your arm, and a choked sob breaks through your lips.

Not a moment later, you can feel a hand placed on your non-injured arm, and through tears you didn’t know had, you can make out the shape of Levi’s face. You can see concern on his features as he asks, “Are you alright?”

You are shaking, your whole body quivering as you try to contain your emotions through the pain. You try to nod your head but another cry leaves you with a fresh set of tears streaming down your face.

“H- how did you find us?” you manage to stutter out as Levi drops his hand from your shoulder. He re-draws his secondary blade and replies, “I saw your horse, and then Pieck appeared a minute later and brought our patrol.”

Another screech rings through the air and he sharply looks away from you and calls out, “Wait here, get down and hide somewhere!” Then, he’s gone, heading to where the cry came from. You could see several of the bandits were fleeing, leaving their horses and weapons as they ran for their lives.

Levi and the rest of his patrol were finishing off the few that remained, with Annie and Pieck joining them. You were about to collapse to the ground when you caught sight of something glinting through the trees. After a moment of realization, you recognize it as the royal insignia on a soldier’s breastplate.

You stumble forward as you call out to the fallen soldier, “Hey! Are you okay?” You don’t get a response as you trip through the brush, eyes blurry with tears from the pain coursing through your body.

In an instant, your body seems to come alive as you recognize the soldier. Rico Barht, one of your father’s guards. Rico was gushing blood from his thigh, where a nasty arrowhead had dug itself into the flesh. His upper body was drenched in blood from slash wounds on his chest and arms, oozing onto the soil beneath the two of you.

“Oh my gosh, Rico!” you blurt out in recognition as you lunge forward, your hands coming up to cup his face. He was just barely breathing and his hazel-colored eyes were half-lidded, unfocused.

A sob escapes you and you exclaim again, “Rico, hold on,” you look around for a second and then yell, “I need help over here!” You turn to face Rico again, slightly shaking him as you try to get him to focus on you, “Rico, Rico, hey, it’s me, (Y/n). We’re going to get you all fixed up, okay?”

A weak garble comes from his lips and that’s when you see it - a clean slice through across his throat. You immediately move to put pressure on it, but your hands keep slipping from the blood that is rushing out of his jugular.

“No. No, Rico come on, no no no no,” you rush out as you see his eyes fix and dilate. The blood continues to flow from his neck, and then you feel him take a breath. Then, all is still.

You can hear the fading cries of the bandits, and the forest rustling before it’s silent again. Sobs wrack your body, ripping your throat apart from the inside out. You let the tears fall as you clutch tightly onto the fallen soldier, praying that his soul leaves this cruel and unkind world behind.

You are so distraught you don’t hear your name being called from where Levi had left you. “Princess Y/n?” the call comes, and then again, this time with more intensity, “Y/n?! Y/n, where are you?!” You can hear the panic growing in the voice, but there is no air left in your lungs to reply as another whimper leaves your lips.

The person calling for you hears your cry, rushing down the dirt path that you had taken to find Rico. “Y/n, there you a-”, the voice starts but then abruptly stops. You turn to face the oncomer, who through your fuzzy vision determines is Levi.

He turns back towards the group and orders, “I need medical supplies over here, now!” Levi places his hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you out of the way so he can help, but you don’t budge, “He’s already gone.”

You can’t say anymore, and you bring your hands up to try to wipe the tears away from your eyes. Instead, you end up smearing Rico’s blood all over your cheeks. You don’t seem to notice, but Levi does.

His silver gaze widens as he sees the blood coating your hands and he rushes, “You’re injured, we need to get you medical equipment now.” He turns over his shoulder and shouts again, “Where the hell is that med kit?!” When his eyes meet yours, you simply shake your head.

“It’s not mine,” you whisper, sniffling, “I tried to- I tried to save Rico. But I couldn’t…” your voice trails off as a fresh wave of tears washes over you. Levi doesn’t say anything for a moment, a look of sorrow and realization covering his bloodied features.

You hadn’t ever seen someone die before.

It wasn’t something Levi thought of often. Living on the streets, defending innocent lives, death was so common he didn’t think twice about it. But you? A princess who barely could fight, holding a soldier as he died? He couldn’t imagine what it was like.

The two of you are interrupted as Pieck appears behind Levi and states, “We don’t have any more med kits, the soldiers in critical condition have already been sent back to the palace.” Her gaze flits from Levi to you, to the body of Rico behind you.

She opens her mouth to call for help, but she catches the glint in Levi’s eyes, and she understands. Pieck swallows thickly and then says, “I’ll get some of the other guards to take care of this. You two should get back in case any of the bandits are lurking around.”

Levi nods in thanks before turning toward you and murmuring, “Let’s get you back to the castle.” You don’t say anything, finally quiet after exhausting yourself of tears. Levi offers his hand to you, the digits covered in blood and grime.

You don’t think twice, placing your own hand delicately in his, gripping on tight as you feel Rico’s blood press into Levi’s palm. He pulls you to your feet, steadying you before guiding you out of the brush and to where Annie had gathered your horses.

She was in good condition compared to you, only mildly dirty, and didn’t look injured. Her blue gaze meets Levi’s silver one, and they both give each other a nod of understanding. Without any words, Levi mounts his horse while Annie helps you onto Vairon, the mare slightly antsy from all the commotion.

Annie passes your reins to Levi, who says to you, “Just hold on, alright?” You sit deeper into your saddle, grabbing onto the horn before nodding to him.

The two of you set off for the castle, a harsh silence settling over the ride home. You couldn’t help replaying Rico’s death over and over again in your mind. The feeling of the blood spurting from his neck. The look in his eyes as he died. The way his chest stopped rising and falling and laid eternally still.

You don’t even realize that you’ve made it back to the palace until you see Levi standing next to your left stirrup, offering you a hand to get down. Time and space seem altered as you make your way from the stables back to your room, trying to avoid any and all eyes on you.

You were a sight to see: face and hands covered in blood, your jacket ripped and your arm bleeding, dirt covering your clothes, and a distant look in your eye.

Levi stops you just outside of your door, his gaze trying to peer into your own troubled (colored) one. For the first time, Levi can’t tell what you’re thinking, and in a way… it almost scares him.

“Y/n- ”, he starts but is stopped when you cut him off and robotically state, “Thank you,” and then disappear into your room without another word. The door clicks shut with a small gust of wind, leaving a disheveled Levi outside with a look of surprise on his face.

He stares at the door for a moment, wondering whether or not he should go after you or send someone to help, but then he thinks better of it and heads towards the king’s chambers to inform him of the raid.

---

It was the day following the bandit attack, and you had two guards following you on your heels. Bertholdt and Colt were both on edge, you could tell. You know they weren’t quite as experienced, and that they knew you had seen something… dark, yesterday.

The two of them don’t say a word, though, and follow quietly behind you as you make your way towards one of the sitting gardens within the palace. You had gotten cleaned up, your skin washed from any traces of blood and dirt, but you couldn’t help but feel like Rico’s blood coated your body.

You felt like red was covering you, smothering the fine lace of your light blue dress. But it wasn’t. So you kept quiet and walked, trying to clear the encroaching feelings and thoughts from your mind and body.

You find yourself slowing near a white rose bush, and you gaze upon the seemingly perfect flowers for a moment before muttering, “Isn’t it funny how this flower can grow so perfectly? Can live a life so pure?”

Colt and Bertholt stop behind you, giving each other inquisitive looks but not answering you. You don’t give them a moment to speak as you continue, “These flowers can stay here, in this garden, safe from the freezing temperature of the winter outside. They don’t ever have to die because they are safe, protected here.”

You turn to face your guards, a far-off, distant look in your eye as you mumble, “They don’t ever have to experience death, only the rebirth of new life.” A tear falls quickly from your eye, sliding down your cheek and onto the ground next to your heel-clad shoe.

Without another word, you turn on your heel and continue through the garden, solemn. 

Your day is slow, and you can’t battle the thoughts that seem to torture you every waking moment. The moment you are released from your duties for the day, you set your sights on a glow in the middle of the darkness. The forge.

You hadn’t spent time in the smoked and charred room since Levi had taken you on as an apprentice. Typically you were so exhausted that you would just go to your room to clean up and fix up your armor and blades.

But tonight, you couldn’t stand looking at the walls in your room, or the pages of your favorite book that you could get so easily lost in. No, tonight, you needed to get out and get away from sitting and doing nothing.

So, you find yourself in the corner of the forge near the hearth, quietly stoking the fire, lost in thought. You thought about trying to find a blade to sharpen, or some armor that needed polished, but your feet seemed glued to the dirt floor next to the growing flames.

Deep marigold mixed with tawny and carmine, forming an intricate dance as you scoped the flames, looking for something. Maybe it was so that you could catch a sight of the soft sapphire and indigo licks that seeped in and out of the rusty haze. Maybe it was so that you could leave the thoughts of the bloody bandits out of your mind. Maybe you just wanted to forget the sting on your arm as your heart shattered while Rico’s life slipped away from your fingers.

Or maybe it was to forget the relief you felt when Levi’s gaze found you in your utter panic. The peace that streamlined through your body when you could see concern etched on his features. The comfort you found when he placed his hand on your arm, asking if you were alright.

You shut your eyes as the thoughts berated you, one after the other. You could hardly stand them, all you wanted was one moment of silence from your mind. In the haze of your head, you don’t notice the lithe figure that slips into the forge room behind you.

The figure catches sight of you curled up next to the hearth, sitting on the dirt. You were wearing what he could only imagine was an expensive, imported dress, but here you were, sitting on the floor. Dust and ash lay on your lap and the edge of your hem, but it didn’t seem to bother you one bit.

Levi set his gear down as quietly as he could on the table near the door, mentally battling with himself on whether he should leave or not. Just as he takes a step back, the fire cracks, breaking your train of thought, and the angle of your gaze changes to catch him red-handed.

Levi could curse under his breath, but he stayed silent before dropping into a respectful bow and murmuring, “Princess.” Your (colored) orbs are tinted copper in the light of the forge, but they widen as they recognize who was before you.

In a moment, you try to scramble to your feet, but Levi cuts in, “No, no, please, stay where you are. I was going to clean my gear, but I can find somewhere else.” He straightens up from his bow, his gloved hand reaching for his gear before he hears your voice.

“Please stay,” your voice practically croaks out, “Please?” The pain in your voice immediately catches Levi’s attention, and he can feel his resolve crumbling when he sees the wet glimmer in your eyes. He drops his hand from his gear, instead plucking his leather gloves off and removing the rest of his bulky gear.

Levi makes his way over to you, feeling your searing gaze on his every movement. He chooses to sit on the opposite side of the hearth from you, giving him a good look at your tear-stained cheeks. The clear look of distress tugs on his heartstrings in a way that confuses him.

What was that for? He’s just here to make sure you’re okay. You’re here all alone with no one to protect you. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. He clears his throat, pushing the thoughts away as he asks, “Are you alright, princess?” You roll your eyes and sniffle, uttering, “Please just call me Y/n. And-” you pause, rubbing at your nose before sighing, “I don’t know.”

You can feel Levi’s watchful gaze on you, but you choose to gaze deeper and deeper into the flames. It’s silent between the two of you, and you think that you might have said something wrong. Levi blinks slowly, thoughtfully, and then replies, “It’s okay, you know.”

This catches your attention, and you turn your cheek toward him, catching sight of the meaning of his silver gaze. He continues, “It’s okay, to feel the way you feel. It’s not an easy thing to deal with.”

You want to brush him off and defend the soft and broken part of your heart, but you realize that Levi saw straight through your uncertainty. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Levi cocks his head slightly, his gaze burning into you like the heat wafting into your sides from the fire.

You swallow thickly, a dry and humorless chuckle falling from your lips as you manage, “It’s such a natural thing, yet all I can do is replay that moment over and over again, wishing there was something else I could do to save him.” “There wasn’t,” the instant reply comes.

Levi hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once, and you meet his gaze with a furrow in your brow as you fight off an incoming wave of sadness. “There wasn’t,” he repeats, softer this time, “That soldier was lucky to have you in his last moments, Y/n. At his end, he knew nothing else other than someone cared for his life.”

He finally tears his eyes away and he mutters, “And that can mean a lot to someone.” You take in Levi’s appearance at that moment. This… interesting, to say the least, soldier, sitting on the ground with a crying princess, talking about death. It was almost funny, the way it seemed like everything to you, but just another burden to carry for him.

In a bold move, you reach forward, your fingers gently resting on top of his own hand as you question, “How do you deal with death, Levi?” You shuffle your feet ever so slightly to get more comfortable, waiting for him to pull away at any moment.

Instead, he flips his hand over so that your digits rest in his palm, and looking at your hands he replies, “I remember them.” He glances up at you through his darkened lashes and when he sees the confused look on your face he elaborates, “When they were normal, healthy, alive. I remember whenever they smiled or laughed. When they weren’t sick or dying.”

You nod delicately, taking in the deep timbre of his voice and the emotion that it carries. You reply, “But what if I don’t have those memories? I only saw Rico in passing a handful of times, I barely knew his name.”

Levi squeezes your hand and states, “You carry on with your life, living for him. Enjoying each moment so that his life doesn’t go to waste.” You give the dark-haired male a saddened smile and nod, squeezing his hand back when your voice seems to fail.

Thank you.

---

The chill of winter slides away with the onset of a warming spring, and things have been becoming more normal. You and Levi finally resumed training once you seemed to cope with the loss of Rico.

You were behind, yes, but doing everything in your power to catch up but with one major caveat. Your 18th birthday was just around the corner. Your days were full of meetings, ballroom preparations, lessons, training, and sword practice. There had hardly been any downtime to relax or breathe, and everything was slowly becoming overwhelming,

Levi was accommodating though, with practices starting later and later in the evening. You had started to learn and understand this raven-haired boy better, with his insomniac-like tendencies, and his peculiar and dry sense of humor.

You liked spending time with him.

To your benefit, Levi was a surprisingly good teacher, and even though most nights you were tired and fed up, Levi could handle your banter. He had a sharp tongue, which kept your focus on getting better, but he was never too harsh.

Whenever he was unable to help you, Annie or Pieck picked up the slack to be your punching bag or let you try out a new combination on them. But with months of training under your belt, you were becoming an increasingly lethal opponent.

One evening you were getting ready to head down to the training yard to practice with Levi, fixing your gauntlets and securing your sword as you rushed to get ready. It was the night before your 18th birthday, and your mother insisted on planning a huge ball for your coming of age.

Just as you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit, there was a knock on your door. Latching onto the handle, you open it to see Levi, who always comes by your room before practice. There was one glaring difference that caught your eye, shock covering your features as your gaze took him in. 

He typically donned his plain, smooth metal practice gear when training with you, but instead, Levi was covered in new, glimmering plates of intricate armor. The smooth breastplate that once was blank and had no symbol, was now textured metal lined with gold and donned the royal insignia on it. His expression was no different than normal, he just wore his usual, stoic frown.

Your eyes widen at the realization of his upgraded armor and you can’t help the words that burst from your mouth, “You’ve made it into the guard?!” It comes out as an almost-shout, which catches Levi’s attention.

His silvery gaze widens ever-so-slightly at your realization, and he shuffles on his feet before he gives you a slow nod. He straightens up for a moment before motioning to the hallway outside of your room and replies, “Let’s go for a walk, princess.”

Your mouth is still parted open in surprise, and your hands have come to interlock in front of your chest, but you do as he requests and move to walk side-by-side with him down the hallway. Your footsteps fall in sync out of habit and you gasp at him again and say, “I didn’t know you were getting knighted today, you should have told me!”

The new knight just shrugs as if it made no difference to him, folding his arms behind his back in thought. He briefly looked to the ground and his black locks moved to fall over his angled cheekbones.

You playfully hip-bump him lightly, trying to reinforce your point. On the rare occasion he wasn’t paying attention, or he was just letting you think that, he stumbles forward a little bit. His arms come down to rest at his sides again and he looks over at you, slightly offended.

Giggles fall from your lips at his reaction and you chuckle out, “I’m serious! That's such a huge deal and you've only been here for a few months.” A soft, barely noticeable flush covers Levi’s cheeks, and he’s thankful that you don’t seem to see it.

He looks directly in front of you two and replies, “I’m doing my best to protect the kingdom.” You scoff and roll your eyes before retorting, “Puh-lease, you do your own thing without regard for anyone. That’s how you are, Levi.”

Levi’s eyes narrow as he turns to face you and just as he opens his mouth to respond you cut in, “I don’t even know if I can count your friends on the one hand.” You give him a look that says, “You know I’m right,” and he just rolls his eyes and groans, “It’s not like you’re much better, you only hang out with your guards and your maids.”

The playful banter between the two of you continues as you walk the cascading hallways of the castle. The intricate paintings hanging on the walls start to catch the rays of the glowing candlelight and the setting sun.

Before you know it, Levi is steering you into one of the courtyards - Josephina’s Garden Hall. You smile softly at the fond memory of your first-ever training session in this very garden. As you look around, there is not a single person around.

The thought crosses your mind that people are preparing for your birthday, which is just around the corner. Your mother was practically bursting at the seams to host a ball in the largest ballroom of the castle, so all energy was put towards the festivities.

Of course, there were still guards and knights littering the perimeter, but there were fewer stationed around unoccupied areas to focus on decorating or protecting the exterior of the castle.

Levi pulls ahead of you by just a stride, heading toward one of the walls that is adjacent to one of your favorite rose gardens. One of the bushes is coated in giant red blooms, and just as you are about to say how beautiful they are, Levi reaches for something behind one of the flowers.

“What are you-” you start but are interrupted when you catch sight of what he was grabbing. It was a brand new, dark leather sheath with a sword in it. A sheath with your initials on it.

You quickly glance from Levi to the sheathed blade and back again. He returns your gaze with a strange intensity you’ve only ever seen once from him, and it makes you want to almost squirm. It felt like he was seeing through and into you, and it made your heart flutter in your chest in a way you never experienced.

“Happy birthday, princess,” Levi whispers, handing you the darkened leather. Your lips are parted in complete surprise as you accept it from him, your eyes raking over the intricacy of the stitching of your initials.

You don’t waste another moment before grabbing onto the hilt of the sword, drawing it firmly out of the sheath. The last of the sun’s rays catch the unmarked length of the blade, making it glow like an ember burning in the hottest of fires.

Your mouth had fallen open in true admiration and shock at this point, and you turned to Levi in complete wonder and appreciation. You swallow thickly and stutter out, “I, I can’t accept this, Levi,” dropping the sword back into the sheath and offering it back to him.

The dark-haired man simply shakes his head and states, “You deserve that blade, princess. You’ve worked very hard, and while you still have a lot to learn, you need more than a wooden practice sword or dull blade to protect yourself.”

You can’t help the huge smile that rushes to your face, and a wave of excitement takes over you. In a split second, you lunge forward toward Levi, crushing him into a huge hug.

He once again isn’t fast enough to react, and he’d never admit it, but he was enraptured at the sight of you: your hair falling perfectly around your face, the light of the sun reflecting the pure joy in your eyes, the strength you exuded as you held your new blade… you were stunning.

Levi struggles against you for a second, afraid someone would think he was taking advantage of you, alone like this, but after a moment, softens into your embrace and slowly pats you on the back.

You pull away from the hug as a stray tear runs down your cheek. You sniffle as you let out an embarrassed laugh, wiping at the tear as you gush, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to get so emotional. This is such a beautiful gift, Levi. I don’t even know how to properly thank you.”

Levi lets a hint of a smile rest on his lips, and his eyebrows softening ever so slightly as he murmurs, “You don’t need to thank me for anything. I should be thanking you for giving me a place here at the palace, and I apologize for being so rude when I first arrived.”

You wave your hand dismissively at him before laughing, “It’s alright, you were the first and only person to openly challenge me like that, and I needed that reality check.”

The two of you stand in silence for a moment, close to one another but not quite touching. You shuffle and glance at your feet and at your hand holding your new blade. You mumble, “There’s something I want to ask you, Levi.”

He quirks an eyebrow in interest at your sudden shift in tone but he motions for you to go on with a gentle nod. You sigh before a saddened smile covers your face, the dying rays of the sun just catching the last of your drying tears.

“Annie is leaving the guard after my birthday celebration is over,” you explain, “She wants to live a life with her father in the country, and the king has arranged for her to leave. That leaves a gap in my defense, and while I’m much more capable of defending myself, I’m missing a knight-” “I’ll do it.”

Levi’s voice comes out soft and low, and it catches you off guard at how much emotion it seems to hold. “I’ll join your personal guard if that is what you wish, princess. Just say the word and that will be my next mission in life.”

You blink up at him, your smile shifting from one of sadness to one of thanks, “Please, would you join my personal guard?” Levi bows to you and utters quietly under his breath, so quiet you don’t hear him, “As you wish.”

When he stands up straight, you give him a slight bow and the two of you stop for a moment, silently regarding the other. A moment passes and you give him an almost cheeky smile before turning away, and without hesitation, Levi follows you.

---

You see, that was the start of a beautiful friendship between you and the dark-haired man. It was built on long days of sparring, bickering, and slowly but surely, tolerating each other. On the day of your 18th birthday, Levi was appointed to your guard and soon began taking his patrols with Pieck, swapping in and out with Porco, Reiner, and the other guards who had also recently been knighted.

Now officially a knight, it was harder to get training practices in, but whenever it was his shift to watch over you, the two of you found yourselves in the training grounds. The training sessions continued for months, your sword skills becoming more and more refined.

Before you knew it, a year or two seemed to slip by like the finest silk, and your friendship with Levi bloomed into something tried, true, and trustworthy. He was always there when you needed him to be, a reliable soldier and a trusted friend.

You weren’t blind to how the two of you grew up, Levi got slightly taller and thicker with muscle. No matter the day, he always, always, always got stronger. You, on the other hand, became more elegant and stronger in your own ways. You became physically stronger, yes, but you found your voice and learned how to rule and talk to your subjects while remaining kind as you always had been.

Over time, Levi had learned your ways rather quickly. The time you woke up. How long it took you to roll out of bed. Just how you liked your morning coffee or tea. It seemed so domestic every morning whenever he’d knock on your door to see if you were awake or not. 

A fondness developed between the two of you for those easy morning conversations, not that either of you would admit it. While the two of you constantly bickered and playfully argued, Levi saw through the facade and to the sweet and tender side of you.

It was moments when you would kindly thank your maids, or encourage your younger siblings. He saw the way you treated the guests who would visit from overseas, and he found a deep respect for you.

And although you had many personal guards, Levi ended up being the one that stuck by you the most often, often by your parent's wishes. With Levi in the guard and not out protecting the towns surrounding the palace, crime rates had increased. And so, the king and queen wanted you to be the safest you could, with the best protection around.

---

On a cool winter morning, with snow glistening on the windowsill, you had just gotten dressed and were preparing for a meeting with your parents. They had found someone they thought would be a lovely suitor for you, as you were now old enough to be betrothed to someone of equally high status.

A soft knock on your door catches your attention, and you fumble with your earrings as you call, “Just a moment!” But the door opens anyway, and in comes Levi, a scowl covering his face.

Yet when his eyes land on you, fixing your earring in a slight panic, his eyes soften and he mutters, “It’s just me, relax.”

His silvery eyes seem to linger, though. They take in the gentle curve of your cheek dusted with blush, then fixate on the necklace hanging around your neck.

Levi is no fool. He has come to know you over the years, and he knows you are one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen. Of course you were, you’re a princess.

He has to shake his head slightly to clear his thoughts before he coughs once to clear his throat. Levi glances up at you and states, “It’s almost time for your meeting with the king and queen, Y/n.”

You give him a warm smile and ask, “Walk with me?” Levi offers you his arm in his classic fashion, and you take hold of his arm like you always did.

Levi guides you out of your room and down the familiar hallway. The arches were cast in a soft, ethereal glow, the snow from the courtyard reflecting the light brightly. Your steps land in sync and quietly echo as the two of you silently move toward the meeting halls.

You sigh and glance down at the floor as you mumble, “I don’t know if I’m ready for this, Levi. My parents have spent so long trying to find me a suitor, but I’ve disliked all of them. I’m afraid they’re running out of patience, or that I’m not worthy to be a good wife.”

Levi stops in his tracks at your words, a bored and stern look on his face. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand before running it through his black locks and saying, “Are you kidding me, Y/n? You are a beautiful, strong, and intelligent princess. You are practically the epitome of a queen and wife, and if anything, I think you scare a lot of your suitors off because of that.”

Surprise floods over you, and the words of praise coming from Levi seem to float around in your mind. Beautiful? Strong? Smart? He thinks I’m beautiful?

But Levi doesn’t give you any more time to think. He continues walking, dragging you along as he finishes, “Just because you haven’t found the right man for you yet, doesn’t mean that you won’t find him. He might be the most surprising person you’ll ever meet.”

You stay quiet at that, walking silently next to your knight and trying to process his words. And before you know it, you have made it to the meeting room where you knew your parents and a suitor would be waiting.

Levi slowly releases your grip, letting his hand slide down your arm before grasping your palm. He gives your hand a gentle and encouraging squeeze before releasing it, and walking up to the large door.

He hits the knocker three times to signal your arrival, and just a moment later two butlers open the door from the inside, ushering the two of you in.

Just as you expected, your mother and father were sitting at the head of the table, and at your entrance into the room, all eyes were set on you and Levi. You are dressed to perfection, regarding the room with elegance and grace, taking in the setup and the profile of the room and the suitor.

The tall, blonde gentleman stands up and bows before you can speak and states, “Good morning, princess.”

You swallow deeply and smile as you curtesy and reply, “Good morning, sir.” You take your seat next to your mother, and you can feel Levi’s steps stiffen as he walks behind you, pulls your chair out for you, and gets you settled in.

He ends up standing a chair or two down in the corner of the room, watching and waiting as he was trained. Your eyes flash towards your parents in a sweet greeting before you take in the appearance of the suitor.

The man was tall. Very tall. He had longer blonde hair and just a small bit of facial hair. He wore very fine clothing, embroidered with intricate details, and obviously fitted by a professional tailor.

The potential suitor bows again and states, “I appreciate your time this morning, Princess Y/n, my name is Viscount Miche Zacharius.”

At the sound of his name, you could hear Levi’s blade scraping against the wall ever so slightly. You shoot him a concerned glance, but all you can see is a hardened look on Levi’s face.

He looked… mad?

You turn back to Miche, and with a practiced smile you reply, “It’s wonderful to meet with you this morning, my lord.” The blonde smiles in response, and before he can speak again, the king cuts in, “Tell us about your kingdom, Miche. Y/n would love to hear about your homeland.”

Your teeth grit together as your father speaks for you, but you keep the practiced smile plastered on your face as you watch Miche chuckle slightly nervously, but he nods. 

Seconds fade into minutes, and minutes lead onto an hour as Miche, your father, mother, and occasionally you, make conversation. You could tell Miche was a nice man with good morals, but there was something lacking in the conversation that kept you jumping for joy.

However, your mother and father thought the two of you kicked things off well, even considering the fact they hardly let you talk to the man. Your mother was so enthralled with the idea of you and Miche that she suggested a ball to be hosted for the two of you to get to know one another better - an offer your father couldn’t refuse. And neither could you.

“What a grand idea!” Miche exclaims, standing up to shake your father’s hand, “Do let me know of the details as soon as you get it planned.” He then turns to you, excitedly and says, softer, “I do hope you’ll save me some spaces on your dance card, princess.”

You giggle uncertainly and reply, “Of course, my lord.” At that, Miche takes your hand, gently, and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles before giving you a bow and leaving the room, your father a pace behind him.

Your mother is practically swooning at how sweet the man seems to be, but you are quite taken aback by his forwardness. You hear metal scrape against the wall again, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see a firm frown etched on Levi’s features.

He was pissed.

The walk back to your room is quiet and tense, with no words passing between the two of you. You could have practically screamed in frustration when your door finally latched closed and it was just you and Levi on the other side.

“Who does he think he is?!” you immediately lament, whipping around the face of Levi, who’s already rubbing at his face in frustration. In response, he just groans, “I think he’s the most bold one yet. You have to dance with that guy?”

You pause and look Levi in the eye before groaning, flopping down onto your bed like a little girl. Levi folds his arms across his chest and shrugs, “At least he’s polite?” You harshly look over at him, a pout on your lips. 

“He’s like talking to a tree that never became a book. He just kept growing,” you manage to mumble around the sheets of your bed. Levi scoffs at your words before leaning back against the door and snaps back, “The guy sure is full of himself. No wonder it’s taken him this long to find a wife.”

You feel a pang run through you and you sit up from your bed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been looking for a suitor for a while too, Levi. Hopefully, I’m not full of myself. Or not too picky.” Your hands find themselves carding together as you look down at them, and you miss the dark-haired knight’s expression change.

The furrow in his brow softens and he pushes off the wall to stand in front of you. He takes a breath as he stops in front of you and starts, “Y/n, I-” But you beat him to it, “What if I never find love, Levi?” You look up to meet his silver gaze at that moment, tears darkening your lashes.

Levi sighs, letting the air flow freely out of his nose as he sits down next to you on your bed, quiet. Then, he meets your gaze once again and he murmurs, “You will, Y/n/n. You will.”

You smile sadly at him, and he reaches his hand toward your face to tuck an unruly piece of hair out of your face. Just before his hand can make contact with your skin, there is a knock at the door. 

The moment is gone in a flash, and Levi quickly moves to stand post by the doors to your balcony and you wipe under your eyes. You guiltily look at Levi, who has gone back to his classic stoic look, staring straight ahead.

Another pang of guilt runs through you as you tear your eyes away from his frame, instead focusing on the person on the other side of your door. You take a breath and then call, “Come in!” Then, a head of blonde hair appears and you recognize the guard as Reiner.

“I was told I might find you here,” he says with a bow, “I was sent to relieve Levi from duty for a little while.” Reiner props the door open a little further before stepping into the room, and Levi turns to regard his fellow soldier with a respectful nod.

Before he leaves the room, the dark-haired man faces you and gives you a bow with a simple, “Good day, princess.” Before you know it, he’s gone, and it’s just you and Reiner left in the silence of the room.

---

Over the next couple of days, you didn’t see much of Levi. You thought it slightly odd, but you figured he was on a personal quest for your father or taking some personal days. Eventually, when you were trying to find him so you could spar a little, he couldn’t be found anywhere.

You stopped a maid who had brought fresh linens for your bed and asked, “Have you seen a short, dark-haired knight recently? He goes by the name Levi, I haven’t seen him in a while.” The maid pauses in thought and then replies, “I do think I recall a dark-haired soldier turning up in the infirmary a few days ago. I can check to see if that is who you are talking about.”

You shake your head and quip, “There will be no need for that, I will make my way there now.” Without another moment’s notice, you turn and slide out of your room, (colored) gaze set on finding the infirmary.

Typically, you didn’t spend much time in the infirmary because you were royalty and you had your own personal staff. However, you occasionally would pick up small supplies after training if you had a small cut or brush burn from the grass.

It was fairly quiet as you slipped into the entrance of the sick bay, with no doctors or nurses in sight. You take a deep breath as you peer around the few rooms that make up the infirmary, making your way as silently as you can so as to not disturb anyone resting.

Just as you make it to the last room, you can hear coughing on the other side. You just barely peer through the door when you catch sight of a familiar black head of hair. Levi.

You push the door open and remark, “I wondered where you disappeared to, soldier.” Levi’s head immediately snaps up to take in your frame entering his small room. He opens his mouth to answer you, but another coughing fit overtakes him.

You rush next to his side, finding a small cup of water on his bedside table. You offer him the cup, watching him soothe his irritated throat with a frown before handing the water back to you.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he grumbles out lowly, trying to avoid sputtering again. A giggle slides through your lips before you can stop it, and you bring a hand up to cover your smile when you catch sight of Levi’s annoyed gaze. It only makes you giggle harder, and you can see his displeased look ease a little at your laughter.

As you calm down, you manage to take a breath and smirk, “It looks like you’re sick to me, Levi.” The dark-haired knight just rolls his eyes, his hands fiddling with the blanket on his lap to pull it up higher on his waist.

“It’s nothing,” he grumbles out again, “The king and queen forced me to come down here so I can “recover as fast as possible” or something.” You nod knowingly with a gentle smile on your face, saying, “I can imagine they only had the best intentions and wanted to see you well before the suitor’s ball tonight.”

He groans and rubs at his flushed face with one hand and mumbles through his night shirt’s sleeve, “Don’t remind me about that. I think standing there watching everyone dance and act so cheerful would kill me faster than any blade would.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at your best friend replying, “You are so dramatic!” But then a moment passes and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear saying, “Actually, you’re probably right. My mother is going to have me hanging on every man’s arm within a thousand miles tonight.”

This time, Levi is the one to just barely crack a smile and he shrugs, “Who knows, you might actually enjoy the ball. There will be no lack of eligible suitors, and I can’t imagine all of them are complete imbeciles.”

His words get you to giggle again, and you nod along in agreement, your eyes trailing toward the clock on the wall. As the time on the clock registers in your mind, panic starts to set in and you scramble to your feet muttering, “Crap, crap, crap!”

Levi’s gaze follows yours and he realizes it too: you’re late for getting ready! You glance apologetically at Levi, who goes to swallow and then starts sputtering with more coughs.

He waves you off and manages to squawk out, “Go have fun, tell me all about it later.” You give him a grateful smile and over your shoulder you call out, “I will! Please try to feel better and get some rest!”

With one last glance over your shoulder, you set off toward your room to get ready for the ball. Your maids about mauled you when they finally managed to wrangle you into your ballgown and start to get you presentable for the public.

Since Levi was out sick, Reiner and Porco were assigned to watch over you for the evening. They follow closely as you make your way to the ballroom, greeting guests pleasantly and making your way to the heart of the festivities.

While the ballroom was decorated magnificently, the entire atmosphere felt slightly disappointing and moderate. There were many suitors around, none of which seemed to interest you. In the distance, you could see Miche talking with another tall blonde male, but you ducked behind a waiter to make your move toward the king and queen.

Your parents were talking with lords about their investments and businesses, and all you managed to understand was that they wanted money from the royals. You have to refrain from rolling your eyes, but you stand quietly and listen to the conversation come to a close.

Your mother turns to you, excitement written on her features as she hands you a piece of paper saying, “Here is your dancing card, dear! I’ve already done you the liberty of picking out which suitors to dance with based on their resumes. Have fun!”

She wraps the filled-out dancing card around your wrist, tying it neatly before giving you a giddy smile and pushing you toward the man whose name is first on the list. Miche Zacharius.

You groan internally as you make your way over to the tall man, who grows visibly interested as you break into his peripheral. He excuses himself from his conversation, bowing in front of you when he sees you stop in from of him.

“Princess Y/n,” he says, straightening up and catching the lustrious light in your eyes. You give him a shallow curtsey and reply, “Lord Miche, how lovely to see you this evening.” In the back of your head, you couldn’t help but wish you were anywhere else at this very moment.

Miche tips his head toward you and shrugs, “I think it is I who am the lucky one to be in your presence.” And as if on cue, the orchestra starts playing the next song, a waltz, to which Miche offers you his hand with a, “May I have this dance?” 

You give him a tight-lipped smile and place your gloved hand in his own, allowing the tall blonde to escort you to the empty dance floor. He begins to move the two of you around the dance floor, carefully swinging you through the other couples who start dancing around you.

Miche smiles down at you and asks, “If I may ask, princess, how many children would you like to have one day?” It feels like the air is sucked out of your lungs as you give him a polite smile and respond, “Sorry, I’m trying to count my steps, perhaps we can discuss this later?”

He has the liberty to keep his mouth shut during the first dance, but once the two of you take a break and you look at your dance card, you can see your mother has booked him for the next four dances.

During those dances, Miche asks you too many questions, to which you politely respond. You tried to sound not too interested but also not too dry, simply polite. You were praying for when the fifth song would end, and you don’t think it could come soon enough.

The whole point of the ball was aggravating to you, and you couldn’t help but hate the evening as you were twirled from lord to lord. You wanted to slip out unnoticed, find a pint of wine or something of the like, and complain about all of it to Levi.

However, you manage to stick it out through the night, engaging in pointless conversation and dancing until you are about to roll your ankles. As the night wrapped up and your dancing card was completed, you scanned the crowd, your eyes landing on Porco and Reiner, who seemed to be arguing about which lady in waiting was the prettiest.

You scoff at the two knights, but with them distracted, it gives you the perfect opportunity to slip away. You take one more scan of the room before slowly backing out of one of the doorways. With no one’s eyes on you, you disappear from the ball without a trace.

You had your eyes set on one thing - go check on Levi and tell him about your endeavors that night. You weren’t able to find a bottle of wine to easily sneak out, but you did find a small plate of cheese that you grabbed on your way to the infirmary.

As you make your way back to Levi’s sick room, you can hear the sound of metal scraping. You raise an eyebrow at the noise, and as you poke your head into the small room, you can see the source.

There’s Levi, sharpening his blade in the middle of the night. You sigh and bring your hand up to knock on the wall to alert him of your arrival. His head snaps up quickly from his sword to your figure at his door, his body going tense in a moment.

When he realizes it's you, you can see him relax, but his gaze remains on you, fixed. You can’t quite place the look on his face, his eyes are wide and locked onto you, completely frozen. You duck under the sudden intensity in his gaze, murmuring, “I brought you some cheese from the ball.”

You walk into the room, the ruffles on the edge of your skirt rustling as you place the plate next to his water on the nightstand by his bed. Levi’s silver gaze follows your every movement, no words escaping him. You sit down in the chair next to his bed, grab a small piece of cheese, and pop it into your mouth with a huff.

You glance over to see Levi still staring at you while you chew, and suddenly you feel hot under his watchful gaze. You look down for a second and swallow before asking, “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A moment passes as you wait for his response, and it gives you a second to take in his condition. His usually pale cheeks were painted pink with a gentle flush and his skin was slightly shiny from sweat. He must have a bit of a fever, you think to yourself.

Levi swallows thickly as he looks at you, his mouth opening and closing once or twice with no words leaving them. Mistakenly, you think he can’t answer because his throat hurts and he needs water, so you burst out, “Let me get you something to drink!”

Your hand reaches to grab his cup of water, which seems to be empty. In a flash, Levi’s hand has wrapped around your wrist, his silver eyes never leaving your face. The quick movement startles you, which makes you drop the cup, a small amount of water falling onto the floor.

Levi’s sword clatters to the ground, which makes you flinch in surprise. You glance from the water pooling near your feet to the sword that landed on the opposite side of the bed and back to Levi. 

Your mouth parts open in a stammer as you start, “Sorry, let me, uhm… let me grab a towel to clean this-” “You look beautiful,” he cuts in lowly. You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his comment, the words slowly registering in your head.

Once they do, you can feel butterflies erupt in your belly and you glance away from the dark-haired knight and roll your eyes playfully. “Oh hush, you’re just seeing things with your sickness.”

This seems to snap Levi out of his daze and he releases your wrist with a playful scoff of his own, “You wish, princess.” You smile at him, one that he knows is of thanks to his compliment. He clears his throat and questions, “How was the ball? It must not have been great if you are down here all ready.”

You lean down to pick up his cup off the wooden floor, a groan falling from your lips, “It was all crap, Levi. It was men who wanted money, men who wanted the crown, and men who wanted to dance. It was so annoying. ”

You straighten back up, placing the cup back on the table and skirting around the water on the ground. Levi chuckles at that, and he motions to the edge of his bed with his chin and says, “Tell me all about it.” A giggle falls from your lips as you move to sit near his feet and you reply, “As long as you’ll listen to me complain about how terrible of a dancer Miche is!” 

The rest of the evening is peaceful compared to the stress of the ball, the two of you making fun of the suitors and princes from across the countryside. You don’t even realize how late the evening runs, but you do know that you aren’t ready for bed just quite yet.

---

A couple of days had passed since the suitor’s ball and Levi had been put down with his illness. Thankfully, after another day or two of rest, he seemed to turn for the better and was ready to get back to the service.

Just around 8 o'clock in the morning, just as he always would, Levi makes his way toward your bedroom, feeling energetic and recovered from being sick. He stops in front of the familiar and grandiose door, pausing in thought before knocking on the dark wood.

He waits for a minute or so, but he doesn’t hear any noise from the other side of the door. The dark-haired knight sighs in slight annoyance, it’s his first day back, after all, and you aren’t responding. Levi knocks again on the door, this time a little harder and with more urgency.

When he is once again met with silence, he takes it upon himself to call out, “Princess Y/n? Are you alright?” To anyone else, it may have sounded like he was just calling out to you, but between you and him, he knew there was worry in his voice.

His impatience seems to take over him, and Levi finds his fingers wrapping around the door handle and pushing it open. As he steps into your room, one he had been in many times, his steely gaze rakes across every detail he sees.

Your bed was empty and remade, so you weren’t asleep. The loveseat in the corner of your room where you typically sat and read was also void of your presence. Levi turned toward the bathroom that was connected to your room, but there was no sign of candlelight or movement.

A sigh falls from Levi’s parted lips in frustration, and he shuts your bedroom door behind him before stepping deeper into your personal space. He opens his mouth, about to call out for you again before he sees a figure moving in the walk-in closet behind your desk.

It’s you, thankfully, and Levi’s figure relaxes as he takes in the… interesting sight of you. You were shuffling out into the main space of your bedroom, your hands grabbing at the bodice of the dress, with a slightly irritable look on your face.

He almost cracks a smile as he watches you fumble and almost trip as you make your way up to him, but instead, he murmurs, “Well good morning to you, princess.” You give him a playful scowl and mutter, “Shut up, …and help me zip this please?”

At the end of your sentence, you swivel 180 degrees, showing him your half-exposed back, where you couldn’t quite finish zipping the dress up. You wait a moment and then rush out, “I don’t know where my maids are and I couldn’t find anyone else to help-”

“It’s alright,” Levi’s voice cuts in lowly, and you can hear him take a step toward you. This makes you relax, shuffling your hands to pick the dress up to the correct height to be comfortable. 

However, with your back to Levi, you miss the complete and utter look of nervousness and awe on his face as his hands make contact with the soft skin on your back. His typically stoic resolve crumbles when his hands just barely begin to quiver as he grabs a hold of the fabric and begins to pull it taut.

Levi is silently cursing the heat that is rushing to his face, swirling in his chest, and giving him butterflies in his stomach. With pink dusting his nose and the close proximity to you, his magnificent best friend, he wasn’t sure what to feel. But, he pushes through, his hands grabbing onto your waist so the zipper would slide up the fabric with more ease.

You aren’t in much better condition than Levi, and you’re glad he can’t see your face. Heat is coursing through your veins, but his warm touch has chills running up and down your spine. A shuddery breath escapes you as you feel his palm flatten against your waist, and you have to will yourself to be calm as he works on zipping you in.

His fingers work in good time, making sure the intricacies of the dress are not damaged or pulled on as he zips the dress up closer to your neck. At the top of the zipper, there is a small clasp to keep it from pulling apart, and he brings both hands up to clasp it.

You feel his warm breath on your neck, and you can feel goosebumps rising on your skin from the small distance between the two of you. It’s completely silent between the two of you as he takes a minute step backward, but it’s enough for you to feel like you can breathe.

The air is thick, heavy almost. There was tension, and you aren’t quite sure where it originated from. You can’t help but be disappointed when his warm hands leave your waist, and you try to fight down the butterflies in your belly as your brain processes his touch.

You liked it. No, you needed more of it. 

What? How could you think that? Levi was your… what was Levi?

As you turn around to face him, you give him an uncertain and slightly shy smile and whisper, “Thank you.” Levi holds your (colored) gaze, looking deeply into what could almost be his favorite color, and gives you a subtle nod.

He was just your personal knight, right? He was your best friend, right? …You had no idea. 

You take a shuddery breath and start, “Levi, there’s something I-” but you are interrupted by a flock of maids bursting into your room. You jump away from Levi, who also takes a few steps backward and moves to stand near the door.

“We are so sorry, Princess Y/n, for being late! We knocked on the door several times but we did not hear an answer,” one of the older maids says, curtsying low in front of you. You turn to face her and you give her a tight-lipped smile and reply, “It is quite alright, Marie.”

The maid stands up and urges, “You must not be late for your foreign policies lecture, the queen will have my head if you are not on time!” You give her a nod and looking over her shoulder to Levi, you ask, “Walk with me?”

The maids clear out of the way, dispersing as quickly as they came. Levi clears the doorway for you, letting you lead the way down the hall. It was quiet for a moment before the dark-haired knight cleared his throat and murmured, “You were saying?”

“It was nothing,” you rush out, wringing your hands together in a nervous fashion. Silence falls between the two of you again, and you direct your vision to the many doors and paintings you pass on the way to the lecture hall.

It’s an uncomfortable silence, so you try to break it with a joke, “I was surprised you weren’t earlier than you were this morning, seeing as it is your first day back since your illness.” Levi scoffs at your remark and refutes, “I do believe it was you who was up earlier than normal, I knocked on your door precisely at 8 o’clock.”

You giggle at this, your hands still fiddling with one another as the pair of you glide down the hallway. The banter picks up between the two of you as normal, but Levi couldn’t help but feel like there was something you may have been hiding from him.

However, he brushes it off and tries to think nothing of it while he stands guard outside of your lecture hall. He tries to focus on getting back into work and pushes the feeling of your skin and body out of his mind.

---

It had been a few days since the zipper incident and the king and queen announced that they wanted to host a festival in the town square with the spring season ending and merging into a beautiful, warm summer. 

For you, it was one of your favorite times of the year, since you got the chance to meet with the children of the town. You loved playing with the children, encouraging their interests, and not letting them give up on their hopes and dreams.

You adored events like this, so it was only natural that you were getting dolled up to meet with the people of your home. The festival typically hosted live music from the best musicians around, food brought from all over the country, and the town square decorated to the top for the best area to go dancing.

You spent most of the morning getting ready for the festival. You had to make sure your dress was absolutely perfect - not too extravagant, but still dressy enough for everyone to recognize you as the princess. Then, you put the finishing touches to your makeup before Levi came knocking on your door around noon. 

“Are you ready?” he asks as he guides you through the castle and out through the gates. You sigh dreamily before answering, “I believe so. This is one of my favorite times of the year, after all.”

The two of you made your way down to the town just outside the palace, where people were bustling about, trying to finalize the touches to their stalls. Children were laughing and playing, running around with yellow and red streamers in their hands.

Levi guides you around them, leading you toward the heart of the festival, and your favorite place to be: the dance floor. There were even more children here, and the orchestra was just set off the to side of the tiled area, a joyful tune bouncing off of their strings.

You leave Levi’s side to join them, falling in with the children to dance and let loose. The daytime was made for the children during the festival, and then when the stars would come out and the sun sank below the horizon, the parents would enjoy themselves.

You sing and dance with the children for what seems like hours to Levi, but he doesn’t mind as he stands guard on the edge of the town square. He could easily see you but also maintain a visual around the dance area, his silver gaze on the lookout for any potential intruders.

The songs seem to blend together until a small brown-haired boy grabs onto your right hand. He tugged on your fingers for a moment and asked, “May I dance with you, Princess Y/n?” Your heart feels like it’s about to burst with the sweetness from the young boy, and you give him a sweet smile and a nod.

“Lead the way, good sir!” you chuckle out as you motion to the opening dance floor. Your sage green and dark brown colored skirts ruffle as you are led onto the floor by the bouncing young boy, and you can’t help but giggle as other young girls and boys join you in the middle of the town square.

You can hear the live orchestra count off, and the little boy offers you his other hand to dance, and with a genuine smile, you accept. Since the boy was maybe 8 years old, you had to lean down to hold both of his hands, but he didn’t seem to mind as he began to spin and twirl you around to the music.

While slightly clumsy and uncoordinated in his movements, you didn’t mind the boy's antics, giggling and laughing as the boy spun you, and you spun him. The other children were no different, gleefully dancing the night away.

You didn’t seem to notice Levi’s silver gaze watching you sharply, noting how you giggled each time the boy spun you or the way your eyes lit up when you got mixed up in all of the children dancing. To the dark-haired knight, you looked perfect at that moment.

With the afternoon sun’s warm rays casting down on you, you were simply golden. The festival's market stalls with red and yellow banners donning the kingdom’s insignia were paled in comparison to you. Although you were wearing a more simple gown for the festivities, you shone brighter than any of the lanterns or rays from the sun.

Levi couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. To put it simply, you looked gorgeous. Not just in the way that you were dressed and styled, but in the way that true joy brings out the best in someone. He could feel how raw your emotions were as you danced, and he couldn’t help but wish he was the one swinging you around instead.

Just as the upbeat song ended, Levi felt a passive tap on his side. He instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword, but when he looked to see what had bumped him, he immediately stopped.

There, looking up at him, was a little girl no older than 3 or 4 years old. She had dark, black curls falling around her face, and her bright blue eyes were wide as she stared up at the knight. The little girl taps again on his hand, slightly bouncing as she giggles, “Dance, dance!”

Little did Levi know, you had stopped dancing to catch your breath and talk to him, but you ceased your movements when you saw the little girl next to him. You can’t help but hold your breath as Levi turns to face her, and you can just barely make out the words he says.

“I’m sorry, miss,” he starts, moving to kneel down so he is at eye level with the girl. A frown starts to crease between her eyebrows and she repeats, “Dance! Dance!” She stomps her small feet against the ground in protest, and Levi says as he tries to explain, “I’m working right now, I’m not allowed to dance.”

Tears begin to well up in the little girl’s big blue eyes, threatening to spill down her smooth cheeks. Levi glances around for a second, eyes scoping to see if anyone watched him make this child cry. 

From the corner of his periphery, he catches sight of you watching the interaction. He groans internally, but then he sees you motion to the little girl, and he turns to face her again. She reached across to where his arm was resting on his knee, gently grabbing his fingers.

“Dance?” She repeats softer this time, the tears sliding from the edge of her eyes and down her cheeks. Levi’s heart can’t help but melt a little at the touching sight and he lets out a sigh of defeat.

“Just one dance,” he manages as he stands up straight, offering the girl his gloved hand. Instantly, the little girl starts smiling and giggling, “Dance! Dance, dance!” before launching onto Levi’s thigh.

He’s caught off guard for a second, stumbling back a few steps before regaining his balance. The little girl just laughs the entire time, and once again, Levi glances around for help. Unsure of what to do, he reaches down and picks the little girl up by her small waist, hoisting her up to his side opposite his blade.

Just then, the music started to pick back up and more people were making their way to the dance floor, and Levi begrudgingly followed, much to the little girl’s enjoyment. As he shuffles toward the edge of the dance floor, he catches sight of Zeke and Porco, who are standing guard on the other side of the tiled area.

He could see the two blondes snickering to themselves, pointing to the little girl and back to Levi. He can feel a moment of rage well up inside of him, but he pushes it down as he turns to face the little girl and says, “May I have this dance, miss?” 

The little girl throws her arms around Levi’s neck and giggles, “Dance, now, now!” Not a moment passes by before the crowd on the dance floor begins to move in sync with the music. Levi starts to copy everyone’s movements to the best he could holding a toddler, but she doesn’t seem to care about his mistakes.

He twirled and spun the two of them around, slowly but surely letting his guard down as he danced around with the girl. You on the other hand, sat watching the two of them from the sidelines, and your heart was swelling in your chest at the adorable scene in front of you.

I had no idea Levi could be so good with children, you think to yourself, Nor did I know he could dance! 

As the two of them passed by every few seconds, you could hear the little girl laughing away, and occasionally you could pick up the word “dance”. The music eventually slows to a finish, and you once again see Levi get down on one knee in front of the little girl.

He reaches under his short cloak and pulls out a small clutch of white daisies, offering them to the little girl. She smiles brightly at him as he says, “I would gladly dance with you again, miss.” The little girl launches at him again, wrapping him in an awkward hug before grabbing the flowers and running off.

Levi watches her small figure run up to a woman with two children next to her and another one in her arms. A minute smile makes its way across his lips as he sees the little girl reach up and give her mom the flowers, turning to point back at the dark-haired knight.

The woman gives him a grateful smile, and he pushes off his knees to stand straight and gives her a nod. Just then, he hears someone clear their throat behind him, and when he looks over his shoulder, he sees you standing there.

The sun was just starting to set behind you, illuminating your frame in its golden glow. Levi’s breath catches in his throat as he turns to face you, noting the sly smile on your lips. You rock back and forth on your feet before saying coyly, “I saw you dancing with that little girl, soldier.”

Levi feels a wave of heat wash over him in embarrassment, his cheeks slightly tinging pink at your comment. He glances to the ground with a shrug and mumbles, “It was nothing.” You scoff at him and playfully hip-bump him with a giggle of, “C’mon, that was absolutely adorable!”

You can see a smile start to crack through his faux facade and you nudge him again, and he finally caves in with a chuckle of, “What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just hurt her feelings and leave her to cry.” 

You laugh along with him, grabbing his arm as he starts to guide you toward the food stalls, “And the flowers? That was a bit over the top!” He just rolls his eyes, a pleasant smile on his face as he sighs out, “Let’s go get you some food before nightfall.”

He guides the two of you through the market stalls, and you pick and choose which snacks and foods intrigue you the most. Just as you finish off a small glass of cherry wine, Levi pulls you behind one of the market stalls without a word.

You don’t question his movements, simply following in his footsteps until you see where he’s brought you. It’s just one street down from where all of the festivities are taking place, and it’s much quieter without the hustle of everyone and the harshness of the music.

The fresh air and light breeze swirl around you, making you take a deep breath through your nose that you slowly sigh out through your mouth, (colored) orbs fluttering closed. Levi watches you in that moment, noting the way your hair was coming slightly undone from a small clip that pinned away (colored) locks behind your ear.

Then you open your eyes and turn to him, a sweet smile on your lips as you say, “Thanks for getting me out of there for a bit, it was starting to get a little overwhelming.” He nods under your watchful gaze, motioning to a small bench just down the street.

The two of you sit down for a moment, eyes fixed on the sun setting in front of you. The once golden color was now bleeding shades of carmine and lavender, swirled with rusts and peaches. It was silent except for the sound of the festival on the other side of the stone wall behind your bench, not that you minded.

A few minutes of silence pass between you and Levi before he starts to shift, catching your attention. He once again reaches under his cloak, hand fumbling for a second before reappearing with one lone daisy.

The small white flower was still in good condition, only the stalk of the plant slightly bent from where it resided on his belt. You glance from the flower back to Levi, whose cheeks are once again slightly flushed, and he offers the flower to you.

Your (colored) gaze widens as you take it from him, admiring the pureness of the petals and the beautiful golden color of its core. You move to place it in your hair saying, “Thank you, Levi! This will be a lovely addition to my outfit tonight.”

You struggle for a moment, trying to push the stem through your unruly locks of hair that were tangled from dancing. Levi’s voice distracts you as he asks lowly, “May I help?” You give him a thin smile and a nod, handing the flower back to him.

Levi pulls the leather glove off of his left hand, setting it on his lap before taking the flower from you. His thin digits reach up slowly, so as to not scare you, before pushing the stem of the daisy through your (colored) tresses. He then brushes a small piece of hair behind your ear, securing the flower and then dropping his hand back to his lap.

It’s tense for a moment, the air thick with emotion, but Levi coughs once and then starts, “Y/n, I’ve been meaning to ask-” “This is my favorite song!” you burst out, your attention turning toward the music coming from the other street.

The tune was loud and unmistakably your favorite, and you stood up in a hurry, calling, “We must discuss this later! I cannot miss my favorite song!” And with that, you disappeared around the corner, with Levi sighing from where he was on the bench, his stomach dropping.

But, he takes a deep breath, stands up, and follows you back into the festival.

---

Night had fallen. The sky was a deep, midnight blue, flecked with stars that glimmered in the lantern light of the festival. The crowd was livelier now than it had been before dusk, with all the children tucked into bed and the parents out on the town.

For you, however, you were done with dancing and playing. Now, you had to act like the royalty you were supposed to be representing. And that meant dealing with your father and mother who wouldn’t stop talking about Miche and other suitors.

“Honestly, Y/n, I don’t see why you aren’t getting excited about this time in your life,” your mother chastises, motioning to you up and down with a look of slight disappointment on her face. You want to groan internally at her comment, but you just reply tightly, “I would be excited if I found someone worth marrying, mother!”

Your father clears his throat and insists, “Well I do have another fine set of suitors coming in for you to try out. I even believe one of them is a prince!” Instead of being excited by the thought of more suitors, it simply enraged you.

You rise to your feet quickly, rushing out, “I can’t do this.” You take off through the crowd of lords and ladies in waiting, weaving in and out of the people until you disappear from eyesight. You blocked out the calls of your parents as you made haste, tears starting to burn at the edge of your vision.

Levi witnessed the whole encounter from a few yards away, still standing guard for the evening. He immediately takes off after you without saying a word, skirting around the edge of the crowd while tracking your movements.

You don’t notice Levi following you, too enraptured with the thoughts racing in and out of your mind. Tears are blurring your vision, and you are fighting back sobs as you pick up speed, now running toward the edge of the town.

You clumsily find your way onto the roof of a house near the edge of town, the small building far from the center of the festivities. You clamber to the top of the roof, facing the rising moon, which casts a pale glow that makes it so you can see where you are stepping.

Your mind, however, was at war. More suitors? Can’t my parents tell I don’t like their choice of men for me? Have they not seen how I can’t stand any of them? Why don’t they understand I need someone who knows me…. Who likes to be around me, and I like to be around them?

Someone like Levi, the words ring out in your head. A gasp bursts from your chest and you aren’t sure if you’re crying or trying to catch your breath.

Levi?

His name makes you stop for a second, and as the tears slide down your face and you gaze up at the waxing moon, it clicks in your head. 

Your heart….  Yearned for someone like Levi. Your hands itched to grasp more than just his arm walking to and from a lecture. Your soul hungered for the conversations of intellect and familiarity. Your lips thirsted for his landing on yours.

The last thought makes your eyes widen in realization, but you don’t have any time to process it when someone sits down next to you. The familiar baritone sighs out, “There you are,” making you turn to face the dark-haired knight.

You give him a tight-lipped smile, one that is holding back tears and the few words circling your mind like a mantra. Levi’s silver gaze flits between your tearful eyes, and his features soften as he watches the teardrops stream down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” he almost coos, hunkering down a little to look up at your face as your chin dropped to your chest, attempting to stifle another sob. His brows furrow in thought before he asks quietly, “Are you alright, Y/n?”

There is a tenderness to his voice that almost makes you want to vomit, but you manage to strangle a deep breath in and let a shaky one out. You toss your head from side to side and stutter, “N-no, Levi. I- I’m, uh, not alright.”

You glance back down at your hands and stay silent. Levi stays still, deep in thought before gently imploring, “Would you like to talk about it? I am here to listen.” 

This time, when you look back up, Levi can see the moon and stars reflected in your eyes. They were still wet with tears, but your (colored) orbs seemed to hold the entire night sky in them for one second.

And in that one second, a calm peace seemed to wash over the two of you just as you started to speak, “My parents are bringing in more suitors for me to get to know. They don’t think I’m trying hard enough with my royal duties.”

You sniffle, glancing over at Levi and then continuing, “I just feel as if I don’t ever get to do what I want. Or maybe it’s that I’m frustrated they don’t understand what I want.” Levi nods in understanding when you finish talking, shuffling for a moment before murmuring, “Well, they did let you learn to fight, which is something you wanted to do.”

You sway side to side, swinging your head ever so slightly as if to contemplate his words before muttering, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Levi could tell that wasn’t the response you were hoping for, but he was never one to sugarcoat things.

“You need to stand up for yourself, Y/n/n,” he murmurs, softer this time. “They don’t take you seriously because they still see you as a child, following their every order. You need to make them realize you aren’t their precious little girl anymore,” and his gaze locks onto yours with a fiery intensity.

“You’re a woman now, and a strong and independent one at that,” he finishes passionately, moving to stand back up. His words echo in your head, and each time you hear the truths behind them, you can’t help but focus on the tone of his voice.

You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off, “Let’s get you back to the festival. We can’t have them thinking their princess ran off in the middle of the night.” At the end of his words, he offers you his hand to take, which you accept. He pulls you to your feet and steadies you before motioning back toward the glow of the festival and says, “After you, princess.”

---

It takes a few days for you to build up the courage to confront your parents about the whole suitor debacle. You knew it was something you couldn’t take lightly, but you knew you needed to tell them sooner rather than later.

And before you know it, you are standing in front of them, heart pounding in your chest as the words that your father just said pound in your head like a hammer.

Your mother and I are in agreement. You haven’t made sufficient effort in courting a suitor, so we have chosen one for you. You’re getting married tomorrow.

It feels like the floor dropped out from underneath you, falling into a nothingness that made your stomach whirl. Married? Tomorrow? You can’t deny their wishes even though your entire body is screaming at you to fight, argue, yell. But you can’t.

So instead, you numbly are whisked away to get fitted for a white gown that you didn’t want. You are run through the order of the wedding and the reception, what you are to do, what you are to say, how you are to act.

You didn’t have the guts to face Levi and tell him of the new development in your life, but you knew he was no fool. He heard the rumors, he saw the preparations. And when he was assigned to stand guard at the main hall the following day, he knew.

You hated everything.

You hated the yellowish tone of the white dress, you always wanted one that was more blush-toned. You hated the way your hair was pinned up off of your neck and out of your face. You didn’t want everyone to see your blank stare and emotionless eyes.

You didn’t want any of this. And neither did the dark-haired knight.

The two of you could only follow orders though, and so uneasily, you survived the night. The following morning comes and you are immediately fawned over by your maids and the wedding planners.

First - your makeup. Second, your hair. Finally, the dress. It was a routine that you had dreamed of being ecstatic about, completely in love with the man you were going to marry. But you weren’t.

There is a knock on your door precisely at noon. Three short taps in a row, followed by two shorter ones. Levi. Just thinking about him makes your heart ache with a pain you never knew you could experience.

A maid rushes to open the door, and just before her hand makes it to the golden handle, you call out, “Wait! Let the guard in and please leave. I require a moment alone.” The maid nods to you, opening the door with a smile and curtsy, sliding out of your room before a familiar figure makes his way in.

You were sitting on a short stool a few feet away from your vanity, staring at your reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. Your whole image was one of grace and elegance, everything a princess should be.

But the light in your eyes was one of a grounded bird. The emotion in your eyes was reminiscent of a beached whale. The frown on your face with the light of a dying deer, hunted by a mountain lion.

Levi stops in his tracks when he catches sight of you, his mouth parting as he takes in your appearance. To put it simply, you were beautiful. He coughs once to clear his throat, a tight line forming his lips before he states, “I am here to guide you to the main hall, Princess Y/n.”

You turn to face him at the sound of his voice, tears threatening to spill down your powdered cheeks. You can’t fight the wobble in your lip as you utter, “Levi…” You can’t see his brow furrow just a smudge more at the pain in your voice, and you feel terrible for not telling him.

“Levi, I- I-...” and you take a breath, your vision blurring over for a second before you continue, “I am so sorry for not telling you about this plan. My parents-” “I know,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You sniffle and stand up, wiping tears away and reaching for a small towel to pat your face dry. He watches every movement, in awe that he could be near someone so ethereal, so heavenly. Levi finds words on the tip of his tongue again, dancing through his mind, coursing through his blood.

But he knows he can’t say anything, it’s your wedding day, after all. He bites his tongue to keep them from spilling out of his mouth, instead giving you a moment to steel your nerves. You walk toward him once you have cleaned up your appearance, and you open your arms with a sad smile.

“Can I please have a hug? I think it might be the only thing to get me through the day,” you croak out with a subtle shrug. Levi’s heart is pounding in his chest, bursting at the thought and meaning of your words.

He nods though, and takes a step forward, opening his arms to wrap around your waist. Your arms come to rest around his neck, pulling the dark-haired knight closer. His hands are warm on your waist, a feeling you know you will miss when he pulls away.

You don’t mind the hard feel of his armor or the feeling of his breath on your neck. You wished the moment would never end so that you didn’t have to marry a man you didn’t love. It’s ruined when the bells outside your window start to ring, and Levi forces himself to slowly pull away from you, looking deep into your (colored) gaze.

You sniffle again saying, “Thank you, Levi. For everything.” He bows and murmurs, “As you wish, Y/n.” As I wish? I wish… I wish to live in this moment forever, Levi. With you.

Levi clears his throat again, and you can see his stoic mask go back on. You feel a pang of guilt wash over you, even though you know it's not your fault. He offers you his arm, and for what could be the last time, you take it.

He guides you down the familiar halls of the castle you grew up in. There are people fluttering about, finalizing the touches to the reception to be held after the ceremony, but you do your best to block them out.

Instead, you try to focus on the feeling of your hand on Levi’s shoulder pauldron, the chill of the silver metal keeping your attention on the knight. In step, the two of you make it outside the doors of the ceremony, where you will walk down the aisle, alone.

Levi reaches across with his second hand, the gloved fingers grabbing your own digits. He squeezes them slowly in a way you know is meant to calm you down. It’ll be okay. I’ll be in there. You can do this.

You give him a tight-lipped and watery-eyed smile before gushing, “I’ll see you on the other side, right?” He squeezes your hand again and then steps away with a nod and says, “I doubt you could get rid of me if you tried.”

A dry giggle escapes you, making you breathe deeply for the first time that day. You are handed a bouquet of flowers, and as you turn to thank the maid, Levi disappears. Not a moment later, music starts to play from the other side of the doors right before they open.

You are met with the faces of hundreds of lords and ladies, people from the town, and the face of the priest and the man you were marrying standing on the altar. You take a deep breath before marching like a soldier down the aisle decorated with flower petals and large arrangements.

Everyone is standing, staring. But you try to ignore them, focusing on the feeling of your feet landing flat on the ground, the softness of the ribbon holding your bouquet together. The way your heart beat for another man, but was about to be given away to a stranger.

While it seemed like a mile long, you eventually make it to the altar, and you are met with the face of the man you were set to marry. You knew he was probably a good man. He probably had goals for his career, wanted to father a gaggle of children, wanted a wife he could count on and love.

And you knew you couldn’t do that for him.

Mindless words echo out as you repeat the vows from the priest, loveless and cold. You manage to make it through each line, but just as the priest asks, “Princess Y/n, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

I…. the thought reverberates in your head, I, I don’t love this man, I can’t marry him. 

“Y/n?” a voice calls to you, and it shakes you out of your head. Your (colored) gaze snaps from the priest, who looks concerned, to the man you are about to marry, around to the gathered congregation. In your heart, you knew you were searching for one person. One man you knew your heart burned for.

You turn back to the priest, withdrawing your hands from your betrothed, and you utter, “I, I can’t do this. My heart belongs to another.” At that, you grab your skirts, rush down the few steps, and run up the aisle, leaving the man at the altar.

The crowd gasps in shock at the scandal playing out in front of them, and you see people reaching for you, grabbing at you as you make your way out of the main hall. You don’t hear your father’s call after you, lost in the destruction your heart created.

“Ackerman, find her!” your father’s voice booms out, but the dark-haired knight is already on the move. The knight immediately takes off, running as he tries to keep your frame in sight. He knew you were strong from all of your training, but evidently, your stamina was still intact despite wearing a heavy gown.

You find yourself running blindly, passing maids, butlers, and gardeners finishing up the last touches of flowers for the reception. Your lungs were burning like the red-hot flames from the forge you passed in desperation. You push past all of them, tears blurring your vision as you run as fast as you can away from everything.

You can hear footsteps following you, but you don’t really care who it is or what they want. “Leave me alone, please!” you wail as you tear through bushes, your eyes closed as you burst into an open garden. Unknowing to you, you ran the entire way to the Josephina Garden where you first encountered a certain dark-haired knight.

Not a moment later, a warm hand closes on your wrist, and you are quickly spun around to face the assailant. You blink through the tears as you make out the figure of Levi, concern written all over his face. Your chest is heaving from your run in the heavy white dress, but Levi seems rather unphased.

He takes a deep breath before stuttering out, “W-why did you say that, Y/n? You know you shouldn’t lie about stuff like that, especially in front of your family and, and the kingdom.” You can see the emotion on his face plain as day, like reading a book that you know word for word.

You could see the way his brow creased, like the gaps between paragraphs when the words seemed to stop flowing. You could see the confusion in his grey, steel eyes, that reminded you of the words you had to reread over and over again just to understand their meaning.

Every feature of his face, you knew, though. Levi was like the dog-eared fold in your favorite book, the paper worn smooth from how many times you flipped it open. He was like your favorite line when the girl finally let the guy take her out on the town on their first date.

Levi was memorizable, you knew every piece about him, and every thought and feeling as he stood in front of you, grasping your arm. Yet he was blind, and couldn’t read the book that he was himself.

“I am in love with someone else!” you shout again, moving to pull your wrist away from the grasp Levi had on it. He doesn’t budge though, holding you firm as you try to pull away from him.

He pulls you closer, his second hand coming up to grasp your shoulder as he barks, “Who?! Who on this goddamn earth would you be in love with?!” Levi pauses, looking deeper into your (colored) eyes before his voice cracks and he murmurs, “I’m your best friend, Y/n, you would have told me if there was someone else you loved.”

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, willing the tears to stop flowing and your heart to stop pounding as loudly as it was. You could feel it rattling your ribcage, attempting to crawl up your throat and make a fool of yourself.

And it betrays you in an instant.

“It’s you!” you exclaim, ripping your arms away from him in a moment of strength, throwing them into the air. The words ring out loudly, the silence that followed them almost deafening. You peek your eyes open as you look up from the ground to meet Levi’s hardened and confused gaze.

“It’s you, Levi,” you whisper as you lock eyes with him. He turns his head in bewilderment, and then he starts shaking it in denial, “No. No, it’s not. It’s not me, Y/n. Don’t joke with me about this.”

You laugh dryly as you throw your hands in the air again and scoff, “I wouldn’t lie or joke about something like this, Levi.” You meet his intense gaze again and gesture to him with a softer, “You know I wouldn’t.”

You can see him swallow thickly, his hands clenching by his sides. You can see the words forming on his lips, and you can just barely hear them when he whispers, “You can’t…” Levi doesn’t say anything after that, so you take the moment to fill in every question you know is racing around his mind.

“It’s… it’s always been you, Levi. It’s been you since the very first training session when you knocked me to the ground,” you start, your right hand coming up to caress your left bicep in shyness. “It’s been you since that night in the forge when you helped me cope with Rico’s death,” you whisper.

You shrug as you smile fondly and state, “It’s been you since you let that little girl dance with you at the festival. It’s been you since you sat on the roof with me, giving me a taste of normalcy.” You sniffle as fresh tears stream down your cheeks, “It’s always been you.”

Levi is mute. Not a sound escapes him as his mouth parts, unsaid words and questions hanging on the tip of his tongue. You don’t say anything, letting him process each and every moment, reliving them as you did in your own mind.

Finally, he speaks, “You’re lying. You can’t possibly love someone like me.” The words are harsh and cut right to your core. Lying? He thinks you’re lying? The look on his face shows that he is completely dumbfounded, flabbergasted, amazed. 

Emotion and frustration builds up inside you as he denies you again. And then, you’ve had enough and you can’t handle it anymore.

“Believe me!” you shout, your voice ripping at the heightened volume. You pause as you feel your throat tighten and clench. Then, “Bel-believe me, when I say this to you, Levi,” and you straighten your shoulders to match his stance.

You meet his gaze and then your voice rings out, “Believe me when I say I love you.” A sob wracks your body and then you finish, “Because I do. I do love you, Levi, with my entire being.”

Passion overcomes Levi and he lunges forward, grabbing onto your waist as if you would disappear under his touch. He holds onto you for the first time without ever asking, pulling you close to him as he urges, “Repeat that, please.”

You look deep into his eyes as your hands come up to cup his angled cheekbones and you whisper, “I said I love you.” A smile cracks through Levi’s lips as he watches your lips move and as tears well up in his grey eyes he rushes out, “Again!” 

A slight giggle falls from your lips as you repeat, “I love you, Levi.” The dark-haired knight just grips you tighter, pulling you closer and more flush to his chestplate. A moment passes between the two of you, and with Levi looking deep into your (colored) eyes he murmurs, “I love you, Y/n.”

You feel butterflies erupt in your belly, the feeling completely washing over you in mere seconds. Levi moves one hand from your waist to slowly close his palm on your cheek, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

“... may I?” his voice comes out so soft you almost miss what he says, but the meaning behind his silver gaze is undeniable. With such an intensity, his eyes flicker from your own (colored) ones to your parted lips, and there is no doubt in your mind.

Not trusting your voice, you nod, leaning into his touch without another thought. His nose bumps yours in a way that could be seen as clumsy and inexperienced, but it’s endearing the way he pauses, allowing himself to enjoy the smallest touches.

He nuzzles you for just a moment before his lips land on yours, soft and warm. He’s slow as his mouth meets yours for the first time. Levi is nothing but gentle as he kisses you, holding you with such a tenderness that it makes your knees weak. You clutch onto him as you let your mouth move against his, enjoying every second of his love.

You can’t bear to open your eyes when you feel him pull away, wanting to savor every fleeting memory of Levi kissing you. When you do allow your eyes to flutter open, you find Levi staring at you, cheeks pink and an embarrassed look on his face.

“Was that not to your liking?” you ask quietly, scared that you had somehow messed up your first kiss with the knight. Levi shakes his head from side to side, and with a small smile, he replies, “No, not at all. I just can’t believe there was something so perfect out there and I never knew it until this moment.”

You feel heat wash over you at his comment, eyes tipped toward the ground. The hand that was caressing your cheek stops your movement, pulling your chin up to face him. Levi’s gaze is so intense it feels like knives are splitting you open and he says, “You are so beautiful, Y/n. I would lay down my life for you if you asked.”

You smile at him and lean into his touch before whispering, “Let us hope it never comes to that, Levi. I don’t think I could live without you.” Levi smiles and murmurs back, “As you wish, princess, as you wish.”

–The End–

Tags: @anlian-aishang @xyumemi @xxdragonwriterxx @starstruckkittensweets @darlingheichou

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #annie leonhart #pieck finger #erwin smith #miche zacharias #reiner braun #porco galliard #colt grice #zeke yeager #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #levi attack on titan #attack on titan x y/n #shingeki no kyojin x you #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin levi #shingeki no kyoujin

[auspicioustidings]

Bannockburn

Summary: Your boyfriend Johnny has come home in a strange mood, and you are about to get your shit rocked at Bannockburn.

Technically, if you squint, a sequel to Savage set just over 700 years later. Like I will perhaps write a proper sequel at some point, but you can blame Bunny for this one.

Words: 3.6k

CW: CNC, smut, implied character death

You were getting nervous. You were getting really nervous. There were two Johnny’s and you never knew what one you were getting when he came home from a mission. Most of the time you got your Johnny, sweet and loving and tackling you to the bed with a laugh while he showed you how much he missed you. But sometimes whatever happened out on mission got his blood up. Whatever he usually did to get himself settled and out of war mode didn’t take. Sometimes you got the Savage Johnny, the one who heard your English accent and became more animal than man. The one who went into such thick Scots that you hardly understood what he was growling into your ear as he took you. 

Usually you knew what Johnny you had the moment he walked through the door. Not this time. This time he seemed like he was boiling with energy under the surface, but he kissed you nonetheless and ate dinner with you and held you as you slept. When he got you both up and packed into the car the next morning for a trip you had the sense to at least be a little worried. Now, hand held in his as you listened to the guide, you had some inkling that you might be in for it. 

“Now King Edward the second invaded as a result of Bruce’s demand to his people to recognise him as their King. He summoned 25,000 infantry and 2000 horses, the largest ever army to invade Scotland. Bruce only had command of 6000 men.”

You could feel the blood draining from your face as the guide went further into the background of the battle. Around about the time she briefly mentioned how Wallace had been hanged, drawn and quartered, limbs displayed in different cities, just shy of ten years before the Battle of Bannockburn, you absolutely knew what Johnny you had on your hands. And this Johnny? There was nothing you could do to save yourself from this Johnny. This Johnny was taking in every word, ready to punish you for your ancestors' transgressions against his. 

You were trying to pay attention, but your eyes were darting around trying to pinpoint any little nooks that might spell danger if he got you in them. Only that was dangerous in itself, because the first time you felt your attention drift from what was being said Johnny had let go of your hand and moved to instead hold you firm by the back of the neck, fingers massaging a little too hard in warning. That got you to pay rapt attention to all of it, to the whole history of the Scottish wars of Independence as it related to Bannockburn. 

It was strange sometimes, you and Johnny. There were times like now when you would be learning about the history of your countries and it felt like some long forgotten memory. There were times when you met his Lieutenant and swore you knew him from somewhere. Like there was some ancient part of you that trusted them when they fought together to watch each other's backs. No matter what Johnny you got, you held such a deep love for him that it scared you sometimes. Your heart twisted as they described what the battle would have been like for the soldiers, the sights and sounds and weapons. It must have been awful. 

You were stuck on it. Stuck on the image of a Johnny with a sword on the battlefield. That was your mistake, zoning out and just following along when he led you out to the grounds. Only when you had been walking for a while did you realise how far you were getting from the safety of a building full of people.

“Where are we going?”

“Dinae pay any attention at all did ye? Must naw have been interesting tae ye learning about how my people battered yours when they tried tae grind us intae nothing.”

“No, I was paying attention. Of course I was” you said, trying to be meek and quell some of his building fury. 

“Couldnae even hunt a bunny without some English noble claiming it wisnae our right. Punishing us” he ranted before turning to you with a feral look in his eye. “Cannae stop me from hunting one right now though can they? Ye going tae run for me wee bunny?”

Fuck. He looked ready to tear into your throat with his teeth. You felt every bit a prey animal, eyes darting around to find a way out of this. The woods. There were woods here. That was where he had been leading you while you had been busy getting stuck on the idea of him as some ancient warrior fighting to the death. Gillies Hill. The guide had told you about it, how the Scottish had made their camp here. It was where they had attacked from.

And it was where you found yourself sprinting through, heart pounding. Your logical mind knew it was a mistake, you running only meant he could chase. You should have just stayed where you were, tried to talk him down. You were stumbling and tripping, trying to get your bearings as the woods became dense around you. Every snap of a twig or sway of a branch sent you darting away in the other direction until you were shaking from exhaustion and no small amount of mounting terror.

You had never been hunted like this. Johnny had been rough with you before in the warmth of your own home, had fucked you into the bed like he was trying to mould you permanently to him. But this was a different creature entirely. This was the monster under the surface that you only caught glimpses of, that you never thought you would meet face to face. The woods were silent of another human, had you managed to escape him?

“Yer naw even trying little bunny, ye want me tae catch ye is that it? Slut.”

His breath was hot on your ear and you choked on any response you had tried to come up with. How had he gotten right behind you without a sound? You were running again, tripping and scraping your knees but clawing your way back to your feet to keep going. The little summer dress was not suited for this, but at least you were wearing boots. At least Johnny had told you to wear boots this morning. 

It was with a sickening dread that you realised he had planned this. He knew you would be running from him, knew he wanted you in a dress for easy access but boots for fleeing into the woods. At least you knew that your Johnny was still in there somewhere, enough to care about you not breaking an ankle. Not enough to care about breaking you in other ways. 

“Aww wee English princess got her knees all scraped up? All yer kinfolk are going tae ken how ye love getting on them for good Scottish cock when they see the marks. Wee whore down in the dirt fucking gagging on it, crying over how much ye love it.”

You couldn’t properly tell what direction his voice was even coming from. The shame of his words was flooding you with a sickly humiliation that only increased when your body reacted differently to how it should have. When you throbbed with need for him. 

“I’m not! That isn’t what’s happening!”

You were flustered and scared and needy and felt like you were yelling at nothing as you kept catching sight of him on your periphery only to turn and find nobody there. 

“Naw? Slick is practically running down yer plush fucking thighs princess, bet yer clenching down on nothin’. Dinnae even have tae catch ye dae I? Could just wait until ye come crawling tae me, begging me tae claim ye. Fucking pleading for it right here, right where my army celebrated before decimating yours.”

His words sent a shiver up your spine. Out here felt removed from time, it really did feel like you were betraying something by finding yourself drawn to this savage. By imagining that his prediction would prove true, that you’d beg for him. You couldn’t, it would be too much, too shameful. So you kept stumbling through the woods even when the deep tenor of his voice rang through in a mocking little song.

God he had translated this for you once. Told you that brose and butter was a euphemism, that it was about fucking a girl full of cum. It had made you blush and laugh at the time when he playfully sang it over to you now that you understood the meaning, but now? Fuck now it just scared the hell out of you with how the words were tinged with a promise. This was hardly playful, he really meant to hold you down and shove himself inside you out here in the woods where anyone could walk by. 

“We can’t! John please, not here” you pleaded, pausing to try and find where he was. “I… you were gone for months, I’ve not…”

He had made you promise before he left that you’d save yourself for him, wouldn’t even put your own fingers inside yourself while he was gone. And you hadn’t. Fuck you would be so tight now, not ready for him to take you hard. Had he known even then that this was the plan?

“Maiden are ye? Scared it’s going tae hurt, princess? It will, did they naw teach ye that we’re animals? We dinnae treat wee English lassies the way yer own men would. Ye’ll get treated the way ye should, like a fucking whore. And ye’ll take it won’t ye? Ye’ll take it wherever I want tae give it tae ye.”

Fuck, you were starting to slip away to whereever he was. You were starting to feel less like yourself and more like the poor English maiden being hunted by the enemy. The bunny being hunted by the hound. Starting to drift away into pure animal instinct, pure fear and arousal. You could hardly breathe now, feeling tears prick at your eyes.

“Please…” you sobbed quietly, not even sure what you were begging for.

And then he was there, towering over you and wrapping a hand around your throat, thumb beneath your chin to tilt your head and force you to look at him. 

“Wonder whit they’d think of ye begging so pretty for the enemy. Cannae help yerself can ye?” he said, as if fascinated by you, slipping his other hand up your dress and under your panties. “Fucking English slut. Y’er dripping.”

Your reaction to those words was violent and unexplainable. It made your legs shake and your pussy clench painfully hard. It was confusing how much it affected you, causing such a flood of wetness that Johnny noticed, his pupils dilating as he squeezed at your throat and laughed when that made you whimper and claw at his hand. He only kept on squeezing until you were starting to see stars.

“Dinnae fucking move princess.”

The pressure of his hands was gone in an instant and the flood of oxygen made you dizzy. There was no time for you to recover before he was on his knees in the dirt, treating your pussy like it was a mouth and sloppily kissing it over your panties. The press of his tongue was insistent and overwhelming, like he was trying to bully it past the fabric. When he ripped at your waistband with his teeth the lace tore. 

He continued his attack like he truly was a wolf sinking his teeth into a fresh meal, completely ruining your underwear until the mangled scraps fell to the floor and left you bare. Your hands were woven into his mohawk and you tried to pull him away, earning a growl that reverberated into your bones and a heavy handed smack to your ass before he assaulted your clit with tongue and teeth and spit. 

You felt yourself clench so hard that you almost felt nauseous. Fuck. You were trying to keep some sense of self, trying to remember that you were out in public and he was some feral version of the man you loved who was saying horrible things to you and promising he was going to hurt you. But there was a creeping haze taking over, turning you dumb for him. 

It wasn’t even something you had been aware was happening when you came on his tongue. It was just sensation, just the desperate need for more. The primal desperation to be fuller even as he pushed his tongue into your over sensitive hole while your walls fluttered through the pleasure of that high.  

“Please, need you.”

“Aye, that right? Needy wee slut.”

You were too far gone to notice that while he was rough in getting you onto your back in the dirt, one hand was gentle in cradling your head to make sure it landed softly. 

“Use those pretty wee words. Ask me for it the way ye’d ask a good English man.”

Ask me for it the way ye’d ask Simon.

When all you could do was wriggle underneath him and whine he grabbed the neckline of your dress and yanked it down to let your breasts spill out, slapping hard at one and making you howl. 

“They naw teach ye how tae talk proper ye wee slut? Ask fucking nicely.”

“Please, please I want you inside me.”

“Aye, can tell that princess. Whit else?”

“Want you to cum inside me.”

“Good fucking girl, wisnae so hard now was it?”

He didn’t take any of his clothes off, just fished his hard cock from his jeans, hooked your knees on his shoulders and pressed into your wet heat in one fluid motion. You both groaned as he bottomed out. It had been so long, you were so fucking tight around him. 

“M’so full, thank you thank you ,m’yours, need you. Fuck, ah. Made for you, it’s so much” you rambled, incoherent in your bliss. 

“There she is, needed this naw? Needed my cock deep in this tight wee English cunt. Cannae be a person without it, it’s whit ye were made for. Fucking built tae be on yer back with yer legs open for me.”

He stayed like that for what felt like forever, the fullness pushing any coherent thought out of your head. Fuck he was so deep like this, with you nearly folded in half. It felt like you were choking on his dick. You were clawing at the dirt by your sides so hard that you thought your fingers might bleed, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head before they could.

You were so cock drunk that you were only distantly aware of the look in his eyes now, the almost obsessive adoration as he took in how you looked pressed into the earth like this, dress rucked up from the bottom and pulled down from the top, palm print visible from where he had slapped at you, knees by your ears, hands pinned over your head and yet despite it all so blissed out you were salivating and babbling at him how you needed him.

When he pulled all the way out to the tip and then slammed back home you choked on the wind being knocked right out of you. It only encouraged him as he started to fuck you hard and deep, taking him time to make sure every thrust settled him so incredibly deep inside of you that you were floating. 

“Braw wee creature aren’t ye? Feart of me and gagin’ fer it anyway. Dinnae fash bonnie, gettin’ yer hole proper.”

You knew vaguely that he was close because you could hardly understand what he was saying. You were so unable to do anything in this position, no leverage on your arms and legs that you could use to pull him closer. 

“Inside, need it inside. Please, please ah!” you cried, no shame left in so as you begged like a bitch in heat for him to cum inside you. 

He shifted and sped his pace, nailing that spongy spot inside you that was making your vision black out with every thrust. You’d have marks on you from the buttons and zipper of his jeans. You’d have marks on your throat and your wrists, on your tits. He needed more, he needed anyone to take one look at you and know who you belonged to.

“‘at’s it, take it. Fuck. Good lass” he groaned as he sunk his teeth into your throat and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you came, clamping down on his cock.

He jackhammered into you, forcing his way in while your pussy tried to force him out. The tight heat of it was too much and he growled and stilled after one more brutal thrust had him cumming deep inside you. He collapsed on top of you, the painful stretch from being folded as you were a delicious burn with the extra pressure forcing you to stretch further. 

You stayed like that for a while, both panting. Only when you were slowly coming back to your senses did you feel a sharp pain in your back from what must have been a particularly jagged stone. Ah, you thought you were probably bleeding on it, feeling something sticky. 

“Bannockburn” you breathed out softly.

The pressure was off of you almost immediately and he let go of your wrists and kneeled up, pulling out with a soft sigh leaving both of you at the feeling. He was quick to tuck himself in before his hands were back on you, gentle this time, fixing your dress and rubbing at all the spots he had marked.

“C’mere bonnie, ye did so well. Hurting anywhere I need tae look at?”

He looked at your back when you told him, laying soft kisses of apology on you as he cleaned it up. You used to tease Johnny for the little first aid kit he always had strapped to the back of his jeans whenever you went out, but it was coming in incredibly handy. Your panties were toast and he sheepishly tucked the remnants of them into his pocket before getting you to unsteady feet. 

“Creeping Jesus, I’ve made a right mess out of ye” he said with a bashful sort of grin, doing his best to try and fix your hair. 

“Hmm, s’ok” you replied, still a little hazy. 

He kissed you soundly and then gave you an absolute squeeze of a cuddle before scooping you into his arms in a princess carry.

“Let’s get ye all tucked up in the car then we can have a bath and dinner when we’re home eh?”

You nodded and nuzzled into his chest to get comfortable. He would take care of you, he always did.

–

John MacTavish didn’t know how he got so lucky. Not any woman would be softly dozing off in his arms after what he had just put you through. Fuck you were beautiful all of the time, but when you were like this? Fucked out and marked up but achingly soft for him in the afterglow? Jesus, he loved you. He would love you forever, through lifetimes. 

He’d explain obviously, he should really have warned you how hard he was going to go, that should have been pre-negotiated. But he had been so wound up. Fucking Simon Riley and his little comments about you, winding him up by putting thoughts in his head about how demure an English man could get you. It should have just made him laugh and shove at him, instead it made his blood boil and his cock hard and he had taken it out on you. You had let him, you always did until either of you thought it wasn’t safe. 

He paused on his way out of the woods with you, considering waking you so you could see the little glade he had come upon. It was pretty as anything, almost felt like hallowed ground with a giant stone right in the middle. Something about it called to an ancient longing within him. Fuck. He wanted to marry you out here. Was that ridiculous? Maybe just post orgasm stupidity.

Still as he settled you in the car and took you home so he could love you properly, he thought maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

–

“Fuck, Johnny.”

Simon Riley was an Englishman through and through. Everytime he stepped into battle it was to strike down those who would oppose his King and country. Yet he had left the battlefield. He had tracked into the woods, to where he knew MacTavish had crawled off to die. He found him leant against the stone that sat in the centre of a glade. Of course this is where he would want to die. Not on the battlefield, but here. The place he had married you. The place they both had.  

“Ye come tae watch it for yerself Si?” Johnny said with a laugh that turned to a hacking cough. 

“Course. Been trying to kill you for years, not about to miss it.”

Simon sat next to him, both of them looking at the sunlight filtering through the trees. It was peaceful here. Maybe in another lifetime they would not have been enemies. Maybe in another lifetime they could have been brothers.

“Ye’ll look after her until I can find her again?”

“Always.”

#mhairiwrites #cod #cod au #fanfic #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #look I am very much implying that Simon is going to get in on this action #I used all my smut braincells on Savage so the smut is not really hitting as good #had to let some of the angst braincells out for a bit or it wasn't going to get written #personally I think having Bannockburn as a safeword was sick and twisted of me <3

[marvelmusing]

By Your Side

From the Light & Love AU

Pairing: Sun Summoner!Aleksander Morozova x Darkling!Fem!Reader

Summary: As the days go by, you learn more about your sun summoner and make steps to bring him closer to you.

Warnings: brief reference to abuse

My Masterlist

A nightmare wakes you. Heart hammering in your chest, lungs frantically scrambling for air as you breathe erratically. Sweat clings to your skin, clammy and uncomfortable. Pushing the covers away from your body, your hands are shaking with the adrenaline from your dream.

There’s a soft knock at your door.

“Moi soverenyi?”

A familiar voice. Ivan. The heartrender posted at your door tonight must have heard your heart rate spike.

“I’m fine, Ivan.”

Tears begin to blur at your vision, emotion lodging in your throat as you fight against your body, willing yourself to breathe normally so that you won’t attract the attention of your heartrenders.

There’s another, more tentative, knock at your door. Frustrated, you slip out of bed, tugging open the door.

“I said I’m fine, Ivan,” you snap harshly, exhaustion wearing at your usually moderate temper. The sight of your sun summoner, wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a loose shirt, his hair ruffled rather adorably, disarms you somewhat. “Aleksander?”

He fidgets with his sleeves, pushing them up to his elbows.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

Instantly, you shake your head, tired mind too busy drinking in the sight of him to think properly.

“It’s quite alright. Is something the matter?”

“I had a nightmare,” he admits quietly. Opening your door wider, you tilt your head, gesturing towards your bed.

“Come in.”

He doesn’t hesitate to accept your request and you smile as you close the door behind him. When you turn to look at Aleksander, you find him hovering somewhat awkwardly beside your bed. His shyness makes your smile widen.

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight?” you ask softly.

He swallows hard.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

Seeing Aleksander settled in your bed soothes something inside you. He will always be safest beside you. He smiles shyly at you, tucking his arm beneath your pillow as he turns on his side to face you. Neither one of you attempt to look away from one another, prompting you to whisper,

“Could I ask you something?”

He nods.

“Why didn’t the Grisha testers find you when you were younger?”

If they had, it would have undoubtably changed the dynamic between the two of you. Aleksander would have grow up at the Little Palace. He would have seen you as a mentor and you would have watched him grow into a man that is painfully similar to the one you lost all those centuries ago. It would have hurt you, but he would have been safe and well fed, allowed to use his power.

“The test doesn’t work if you’re already in pain,” he says. “My mother’s punishments meant that the test never worked on me.”

At Aleksander’s confession, your heart leaps into your throat. No wonder he joined the First Army before the age of conscription.

“Healers are supposed to examine every child and attend to them if they’re injured, so that they can be tested.”

He shrugs lightly.

“I didn’t know that. They never did.”

“Aleksander, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head minutely, a frown of confusion creasing between his brows.

“It isn’t your fault.”

“It is. I should have gone with the testers to ensure it was done properly.”

“You can’t go to every town in Ravka with the testers. Not if you also need to be on the frontline with your soldiers, and manage things at the Little Palace, and attend meetings with the king.”

Once again, his perception surprises you.

“You’ve been watching me.”

“It’s hard to not notice you.” The words seem to tumble out of him without thought and your heart skips a beat at his honest admission.

“Is it?” you ask softly.

He blushes.

“Well, you’re the only one who wears black so I suppose that makes you stands out.”

“I suppose,” you concede.

A small smile quirks at the corner of your lips as you stare up at the ceiling, giving him some reprieve from his embarrassment.

He likes me. Those three words dance gleefully around in your mind, clouding over every other thought. He likes me. After years of being distrusted and loathed and feared, being liked feels like a drug.

»»---------------------►

“I see your training with Botkin has been fruitful. A vast improvement from when you first arrived here.”

Aleksander turns, grinning at you as he wipes at his bare back with a cloth. His eyes are alight with victory, after beating both Zoya and Sergei back to back in the combat ring. He gives you a small bow, inclining his head politely and heat creeps up your neck.

“Thank you, moi soverenyi.”

He speaks your title earnestly. The title you had fashioned for yourself with whatever scraps of respect you could gather from the otkazat’sya. Saints, you want to kiss him, right here and now, in front of his entire cohort. The youngsters love to gossip, by the end of the day everyone would know that you had kissed the sun summoner.

As much as you want to, you aren’t ready for the world to know how much he means to you. Not after what happened all those centuries ago. The people won’t accept their Sun Saint being loved by a Darkling.

“Is there a reason why my lessons with Baghra have been replaced with combat lessons and sessions in the library?” he asks, reaching for his shirt and pulling it over his head.

“Yes. I was hoping to have cleared my schedule before you noticed the change.”

“Your schedule?”

You nod.

“Baghra won’t be tutoring you anymore. You deserve a better teacher than her, and I plan to do my best by you.”

He lifts his head up, tightening the strings at the front of his shirt.

“You’re going to be teaching me.”

You nod again with a soft smile.

“Yes.”

»»---------------------►

“What’s this?”

Aleksander lifts the lid of the chest slightly, frowning in curiosity at the copious amount of tulle spilling out. The flash of blue and yellow from inside the chest makes you grimace as you answer him from your place at the war table.

“My dress for the winter fete.”

He turns to look at you, surprise touching his features.

“May I see it?”

You nod passively.

“If you would like to.”

He opens up the chest, reaching for the wretched garment. The dress is a gaudy yellow, with blue embroidery over the waistline and at the hem of each tier in the skirt. Genya has done her best to alter the dress, adding some golden embroidery and glistening gems to the bodice to make it more ornate and refined.

“It’s lovely.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

He turns back to you.

“You don’t like it?”

“For the winter fete, the king imposes a strict dress code. All female Grisha must wear dresses - the colour of their order. The men can wear their keftas.”

After turning your pen over in your hands for a moment, you place it down slowly and lean back in your chair to look at Aleksander.

“But I am not permitted to wear my kefta or my colour. I am dressed in cheap silks and Lantsov colours to remind me that I am the property of the crown.”

Aleksander discards the dress, tucking it back into the chest with slightly less care than when he had first picked it up. He then moves over towards you, sitting down in the seat by your side. His fingers curl around your wrist, circling his thumb over the sensitive skin of your forearm.

“I think you will look beautiful in anything,” he murmurs quietly. Unable to stop yourself, you place your hand over his, giving him a soft squeeze before you whisper,

“Thank you, Aleksander.”

»»---------------------►

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#aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova imagine #sun summoner!aleksander #the darkling x reader #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Leonidas with Yoriichi Tsugikuni!fem!reader platonic headcanons

Warning(s): RoR manga spoilers up to ch. 78, historical references, violence, KNY anime spoilers, established relationship, strong language from Leonidas, ooc.

Collab work with @deathmetalunicorn1. Special thanks to @enryegotrip and @themoonisrising for their feedback in the drafting phrase!

Before reading this piece, however, I strongly recommend you read this story, as it acts as a part two. The link will be here.

With that being said guys, sit back, relax, and enjoy the chaos that is about to unfold :)

King Leonidas knew the gods existed and he hated them. Apollo, the arrogant little shit who was worshiped in Delphi all those centuries ago, is the god whom he despised the most. His men knew why but they were wise enough to never speak about the patriot of the arts in front of him. He did not, however, know that demons existed in Valhalla too…until that fateful night. 

He and his men were settling in their campsite, bellies full and ready to resume their training or take the first watch and make sure no one tried to sneak past them…but someone did.  It had been an old man, whimpering and cowering with a large lump on his head and wearing tattered clothes. Just when a soldier barked at him to leave or die where he stood, brandishing a spear in his direction…the old man’s body split in half, then half again until four young men began attacking the campsite. All hell broke loose, and Leonidas had no idea what the fuck was going on or how to kill them.

Guns didn’t work on the winged one because he was too fast in the air, the swords and spears of his men snapped in half when making contact with the bodies of the blue-eyed one before he impaled them with a halberd. The one wearing red robes possessed a staff that could create lightning within a seven foot radius, and the green one used a fan to blow away his men with a single swing. He used his shield when the latter and the winged one attacked, but it could only do so much against a sonic wave attack. 

When shit looked like it was about to go sideways in the worst way possible, she showed up seemingly out of nowhere. She zigzagged across the field, dodging the winged one’s attacks and swiftly decapitating the halberd-wielding bastard, his head flying off and landing in the mud with a ‘thud’. That was when King Leonidas noticed something odd about the opponents…no, it wasn’t odd. These sons of bitches knew who exactly you were and they were afraid. 

The horned demon in red raised his staff in the air, preparing for another lightning strike when she appeared in front of him. She inhaled sharply through her mouth and raised her sword above her head, the blade becoming ignited in crimson flames before striking him down, his body splitting in half. It was after taking this monster down that she addressed him. 

“My lord….there is a fifth demon…heading northeast. That is the demon’s main body. If it is destroyed, then the other four will cease to exist. My comrades…they are on their way. They will be here soon, and provide aid.” She then looked him straight in the eye, calm and level-headed as if this wasn’t the first time she had fought against these things. “Normal weapons cannot penetrate a demon’s body…but seeing that you are carrying firearms, use this.” She pulled out three cartridges of ammunition from her  robes and handed them to him. “Aim for the head. I must go…before the main body gets too far away.” 

She then darted away from the campsite, disappearing into the darkness of the forest. Leonidas is a proud man, but even he knew not to look at a gift in the horse’s mouth. He unclipped the magazine in his pistol and loaded in the new ammo, opening fire but making sure that these bullets would not be wasted. 

Just as the woman said, reinforcements arrived. All wearing robes and carrying swords, moving across the battlefield as if they were dancing and not fighting against these creatures. 

Spartans are bred for battle and will die for battle. Never give up, never surrender. That is in their blood. However, a smart Spartan realizes the difference between an ally and an enemy, and that the flow of time constantly changes in the mortal realm. From politics to fighting techniques, if it can be used to take down an enemy, King Leonidas doesn’t give a flying fuck about anything else. 

When his second magazine was on the last bullet, all of the demons disintegrated into ash. The soldiers shouted in Grecian, raising their bloodied spears in the air and smiling victoriously. Their mysterious comrades either relished in the moment or simply walked away from the battlefield, sheathing their swords with a grimace. A little while later she returned to the campsite, expressionless and covered in blood that was not her own. 

She  bowed deeply to him. “I apologize…my lord. If I had been sooner…there would not have been so much damage…and you would not have lost so many men.” 

Leonidas just shook his head. His men were prepared to die in battle if it meant glory and victory in the name of Sparta, they trained to go up against even the most powerful of opponents. But what he could not stand is not knowing what he and his army are fighting…so what the hell were those monsters? He wanted information, and he wanted it now. 

To his surprise, she was more than compliant to sit and talk with him. One of her associates, a tall brat with a large sword strapped on his back, barked at her, saying that it's against the rules to share confidential information with an ‘outsider’ but the woman replied that he has a right to know. He is the commander of these men; would it not be better to tell him and prevent this situation from happening again? 

Furthermore, she is an unofficial member of the organization, so the rules do not affect her as much as it does to him or the others. When her associate turned away with a scoff, she asked him what he liked to know. 

“Everything.” He snapped. 

She nodded. “Of course.”

As the men cleared the debris and buried their dead, Leonidas fired question after question at the swordswoman, whose name he learned was [First Name] [Last Name]. Demons were nocturnal in nature, and consumed human flesh to gain strength. Their bodies were extremely durable; normal weapons cannot harm them, and they can only be killed by decapitation. Her sword, a nichirin blade, forged from Scarlet Iron Sand and Scarlet Ore, both of which can be found in high mountains that perpetually bathed in sunlight all year around. 

Sunlight was the only thing that could kill a demon for good. The bullets she gave him were created from the same materials, designed for a Hashira that preferred guns to swords.  A Hashira is a very strong Demon Slayer, and she is one herself: the Sun Hashira, which is why her blade ignited upon attacking the demons. The Breathing Style is…difficult to explain and to learn, but it is effective. 

The Demon Slayer Corps had existed for over a thousand years, and it was revived in Valhalla under Lord Hades’ command. Another human soul, Nostradamus, destroyed the Bifrost and demons have been crawling their way into Valhalla ever since. The one he and his men came in contact with is Hantengu, a powerful demon who once served under Muzan Kibutsuji. 

Muzan was the original creator of the demon race, and she had encountered him once many years ago. 

“I wish I could tell you more my lord,” She bowed her head to him. “The only thing I can offer is to give you the name of the person who can create these bullets, though I must ask that you keep his identity a secret. Muzan might have perished all of those years ago, but seeing one of the Upper Moons here in Valhalla and still possess their powers…the possibility that he might have regenerated in Helheim cannot be ruled out. If he still wishes to destroy the Demon Slayers, he will make another attempt to kill the craftsman who creates the weapons that can destroy him and the other Upper Moons under his command.”

Lenoidas nodded. Makes sense, He thought. Keeping a supplier safe is crucial in war. The less an enemy knows who or how their opponent is getting their weapons, the better. Cut off the supplier and supply route, these people wouldn’t have the swords or bullets needed to destroy the demons. Still…

“Is it possible to meet the guy who made these?” He asked, holding up the empty cartridge. “I know that’s asking a lot from a stranger like myself, trust me, but just having the basic info on an opponent won’t help me or my army be prepared if this situation happens again. You said you’re an unofficial member of this organization.”

“...I am. However, to meet the creator of the bullets…I would need to speak to Lord Ubuyashiki first. He is…very protective of us all, like we are his children. The secret location of the swordsmiths had been exposed once before, when the organization had been on the decline in the Taisho era. You may have to speak and present your case to him as to why you wish to know the suppliers.” 

“How soon can that be?”

“When I return to headquarters, I will go straight to him myself…though I am sure no one will want that. He has…not been well as of late.” [First Name] looked to the side, blinking at the large crow perched on her shoulder. “I will send you a message through this little one, should he allow this meeting. Is that acceptable?”

Momentarily surprised that such a large bird suddenly appeared out of nowhere, Leonidas cleared his throat. “Yeah, that’s fine. I look forward to hearing from you…through your bird.” 

The Demon Slayer nodded, bowing to him before she left the campsite as quickly as she had appeared, stunning the war general with her agility. Huh…were women soldiers in the Demon Slayer Corps always so sneaky? He’ll have to ask next time. Right now, he had to direct his mind and think about his next move. For now, it seemed going north would be the best choice; there was a Greecian military base there, so his men could rest until they were called to the next war. He’ll also need to let his wife, Gorgo, know what happened as well. 

Gorgo remained Queen of Sparta when he was away at battle, in life and in death. She had just as much authority and political power as he did, so he knew their home in Valhalla would be well-protected in his absence. If he hadn’t known that these demons existed until now…could he truly say that their home is fortified against every single threat? No. And she deserved to be aware of the situation. 

They were husband and wife for fuck’s sake. 

A week flew by until the army reached the base, and another when the messenger crow flew through the window in his study one sunny afternoon, a scroll tied around its neck. Hoisting himself up from his hammock, Lenoidas marked his spot in the book he’d been reading and set it down on the floor. He walked towards the window and untied the rope around the crow’s neck, unfurling the parchment to scan the contents. 

The meeting will take place in four days. A member of the organization, a kakushi, will personally escort him to the lord of the manor on the morning of the meeting. To ensure everyone’s safety, he must wear a blindfold the entire time until he is given permission to remove it. 

Lenoidas’ brow twitched. You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. He thought, annoyed, before he sighed deeply. [First Name] had promised him that she will try to persuade the clan head to speak to him in regards to the suppliers. This would be his first and only chance to negotiate peacefully. 

He couldn’t allow the Sun Hashira’s hard work to go to waste…so he’ll play along. 

Time passed quickly as he made the necessary preparations. Before he knew it, a fellow dressed from head to toe in black with a cloth concealing his face waited at the city’s gates. The kakushi  blindfolded the king of Sparta, and then they departed. 

But it wasn’t just one kakushi that escorted him…there were many of them, each with a different voice and mannerisms, switching him off at a designated post. Some were polite, curt. Others were skittish, can’t really blame them honestly. When he’d been granted permission to remove the blindfold, Leonidas was…surprised to see a young man smiling serenely at him, dressed in white and purple robes. He was flanked by two small children, and a woman sat behind him. 

Safe assumption that these were his heirs and wife, but the Spartan general kept his comments to himself as he observed the lord. His eyes were clouded, unfocused. Blind. Probably caused by the rotten skin that’s spreading on his face. 

The man and his family bowed their heads to him. “Welcome to our humble home, Lord Lenoidas of the Spartan Army.” He said softly. “[First Name] has spoken highly of you since her return. A courageous leader who remained calm in such a dire and unexpected situation…though you wish to meet the ones who have supplied my children with the necessary weapons to protect themselves and others from the demons who prowl at night. May I inquire why you wish to have access to our resources? How can I be sure that you will not spread this information to others?”

This was it. One chance to either get the information he seeked…or to lose it all, and his men would go back into battle unprepared. Leonidas inhaled a deep breath, and spoke. 

He didn’t sugarcoat his intentions, plainly and respectfully to Lord Ubuyashiki. To his surprise, this brat didn’t get pissed off or talked down to him. Instead, the young lord understood where he was coming from. There have been more reports of sporadic ruptures in the Bifrost; try as they might, the Demon Slayer Corps cannot be everywhere and protect everyone. Lenoidas’ armies were the largest within the Grecian district, rivaling only that to Chinese militia, so it would be beneficial to supply the war general with the necessary anti-demon artillery, but only to his armies. 

Right now, he was the only human leader outside of the organization who knew about the demons’ existence. As much as he wanted to help everyone, there were too many cons rather than pros to take another gamble with the supplier’s secret location should anyone else be aware that there were weapons that can kill demons. 

As much as Leonidas wanted to protest…the brat had a point. The less people knew, the better. No good in causing a panic among the public. The gods could go fuck themselves, of course. The war general wasn’t too concerned about them so much as his fellow mortal comrades. 

Then the meeting was settled. He along with the Sun Hashira would be escorted to the swordsmans’ village to meet the bullet crafter, and talk about business as needed. Lenoidas thanked the lord for his time…and politely asked to give his regards to [First Name]. 

That was the last time Leonidas saw Ubuyashiki. Within the following week, he and the Sun Hashira embarked on a journey to the suppliers alongside the secretive kakushi.  He saw how the bullets were created, negotiated the amount needed to a fair price, and things propelled from there. 

He also came to enjoy [First Name]’s company. She wasn’t a talkative person, though she had proven herself to be insightful and open-minded when they spoke on the way back to Sparta. She had agreed to go with him and his men on an expedition  under the condition that she would teach them everything she knew about demon extermination. She warned him she was not good at explaining more complex Breathing Styles, and it might not be suitable for his men. There might also be questions that even she cannot answer fully, though she will do her best. 

Leonidas said he was well aware but at this point, he was willing to take a chance with the Sun Hashira; these men were under his command, so he knew them like the back of his hand. Whatever Breathing Styles or demon exterminating techniques she knew and was willingly to teach would be appreciated. Hell, if there was a way to implement it in his army’s battle formations and even his own fighting style, Leonidas will take it for what it’s worth. 

Leonidas grinned as he watched [First Name] training his men from the rim of his book. She had proven early in their journey that she was not to be underestimated or her lessons to be taken for granted. She’d saved their asses, helped them secure a supplier for a fair fee, and showed them how to combat against lower-level demons if they ever came across them at night. Didn’t even complain about the long hours spent walking or hiding up the mountains. 

The only downside to this arrangement is that when it was time to restock their weapons with anti-demon bullets, spears, or shields, Leonidas had to go get everything himself. 

Pain in the ass, but worth it in the end. 

The war general wondered if he should consult Gorgo about adding women who can fight to the army’s ranks would be more beneficial and boost morale, or would just make things worse, when a scout shouted that a god was approaching the campsite. Lenoidas narrowed his eyes, getting himself out of his hammock again because shit was about to go down. Once he grabbed his spear and shield, he darted towards the enemy with [First Name] following close behind. The men were already in the phalanx formation, acting as a barrier around the campsite to prevent the intruder from taking another step further. 

Lenonidas stared at the god. Tall, muscular, couldn’t be more than seven or seven and a half feet tall. Black tank-top with a weird ass rabbit on the front, orange robes tied around his waist and hands. Sunglasses, long blonde hair, light blue orbs…is that a fucking lollipop in his mouth? 

Who is this punk?

“Buddha?” [First Name] said. 

Lenonidas blinked once, then twice before he swiveled his head over his shoulder to glance at the slightly stunned swordswoman. “You know him?” She gave him a brief nod, then looked straight ahead with a confused frown. The war general followed her gaze and saw the son of a bitch standing right in front of him, his shadow almost towering over his own. The god blinked, munching on the lollipop with his oversized canines. 

“Yo. You’re that war general from Sparta, right? Nice to meet ya. Soo…sorry for the sudden visit, but I’m takin’ the Sun Hashira back with me. Ya dig?”

“And what gives you the right to treat her like an object, shithead?” Leonidas growled. “This is why I can’t fuckin’ stand the likes of you or any others in the pantheons.”

The god stared at him. “Old man…I respect that you wanna protect her, but you should know more than anyone that she’s more than capable of defending herself. You’ve seen her in action, right? That’s how she met ya. And why she decided to go with ya on this trip. However, she’s been away from home for far too long.”

Buddha then walked  past him and gathered up the swordswoman in his arms, with one hand under her legs and the other around her shoulders. “C’mon sunshine, we’re headin’ back to paradise.”

[First Name] blinked. “We are? But the men still need more time to be properly trained - ”

“Six months.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t been home in six months, and ya had the guts to leave your husband all alone in a cold bed.” He puffed up his cheeks in annoyance. “I might enjoy hangin’ around the bodhi tree when you’re not around, but I wanna cuddle with my wife more than once before she suddenly heads off on a mission without sayin’ good-bye! You could’ve woken me up before ya left so I know were you’re goin’, you silly rabbit!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ya should be! I almost had to call Kintoki and ask him to track ya down if your crow didn’t drop off a message beforehand! Think things through before you run off into action, darlin’!”

“Okay.”

Lenoidas and the army stared at the pair with slackened jaws at the sight of a god pouting like a child as he scolded the Sun Hashira, who has identified himself as her husband. She was married to a god, and didn’t say anything to them?!? 

[First Name] looked over Buddha’s shoulder, waving her hand at him. “I’ll be going home, Lord Lenonidas. I’m sorry this trip has to be cut short, but feel free to send a message to my residence or Lord Ubuyashiki’s if you have any questions or concerns.” 

The war general felt a headache coming on. “Yeah…sure. Don’t worry about it or the training, we can handle it from here. Just go home to your…husband.” He muttered. “And don’t  be a stranger either, all right? You’re always welcomed in Spartan territory. If any of ‘em give you a hard time, I’ll knock some sense into them.” 

She nodded, offering the barest hint of a smile before she looped her arms around Buddha’s neck. The god looked back at him and inclined his head. In an instant, the pair were gone, returning to wherever it is that they called ‘home’. 

Bonus Content:

Soon as Lenoidas received word that the Sun Hashira had come to pay him and his family a visit as she promised she would, the war general invited her to sit at his table for dinner.

 Gorgo was delighted to finally meet the swordswoman who had earned her husband’s trust and saved the men’s lives. It is rare to meet a skilled warrior who is not a goddess and is humble.

Leonidas received the second shock since meeting [First Name] when she quietly revealed that she is, in fact, a divine being. Well, not exactly. More like a mortal soul who had received the blessing of a god. 

She had met Buddha shortly after ascending to Valhalla. They were good friends for a long time before marrying almost two decades ago, though the enlightened one mentioned he should have done so sooner. 

Something about rivals for her affection? 

When his wife pressed on what [First Name] meant, the swordswoman’s calm face briefly pinched into an uncomfortable expression. Inhaling a deep breath, she answered Gorgo. 

The Grecian representative of the Sun, Apollo, had approached her on the pretense that they were a perfect match because they were affiliated with the same celestial orb: bright, warm, and influential. In his mind, he believed Fate brought them together. [First Name] did not, and politely declined his proposal of a courtship.

Apollo did not give up. He was persistent in the coming days, and Buddha had almost intervened on her behalf. But it had been her own mess. So in the context of Buddha’s “lingo”, she “wiped the floor” with him. 

Leonidas had trouble breathing as he howled in laughter. That fuckin’ shithead had actually gotten his ass beaten by a divine being who used to be a mortal. 

Good. The prick deserved it. 

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#shuumatsu no valkyrie #an idyllic novelist #record of ragnarok #ror x reader #snv x reader #snv #snv buddha #snv leonidas #ror buddha #ror leonidas #ror headcanons #ror x you #ror apollo #snv apollo #apollo record of ragnarok #platonic headcanons #yoriichi!reader

[frankcastleonlyfans]

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐓

pairing: daemon targaryen x martell!reader

summary: y/n dreamed about the man she was promised since she was born. (I AM REALLY BAD AT SUMMARIES SORRY 😭)

words: 4.0k

author's note: part two is right here.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. i hope you like it!

warnings: enemies to lovers, descriptions of blood, descriptions of combat, mentions of sex

18+ warning

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

The beauty of Y/N Martell was known throughout all Westeros. Daughter of a Martell lord with a Velaryon lady, the girl had beautiful silver hair and lilac eyes that highlighted her warm skin tone. The Sand Dragon is how they called her, even though lady Y/N wasn't a dragon herself. She had valyrian blood, but wasn't a Targaryen.

House Martell wanted power, and for that, they needed the biggest and greatest weapon the kingdom has ever known. King Viserys couldn't put a dragon egg in dornish hands, not without a marriage to finally bound the houses that once had been in war.

Lord Martell offered Y/N's hand to the king, right after she was born and her father saw potential in her valyrian features, but Viserys kindly refused, saying that he already had a wife, who also just gave birth to a girl, princess Rhaenyra. The monarch mentioned his younger — and single — brother, who could do well with a wife. Lord Martell accepted the king's matchmaking, and promised the hand of his newborn child to Prince Daemon.

As a gift, the king gave the little baby a dragon egg, saying it was only for the future princess. It was a precious treasure, something that the dornish people had never seen before. The egg was in color white, with golden details in its scales. It hatched a couple months later, and a female dragon was born. Lady Velaryon called it Faora.

Obviously, King Viserys knew they had to wait until baby Y/N became of age and ready to settle into marriage. As a child, she was told that her destiny had been traced, and her future husband was a cruel, and yet brave, Targaryen warrior. Y/N never met him, but she fell for the idea of him. A brave and handsome prince, who killed everyone that tried to harm the crown. She wanted to be like him, the man of her dreams.

At the age of 8, Lady Y/N started training. She was an excellent dragonrider, even though she was young. The Targaryen children start riding their dragons at even younger age, and Y/N insisted she wanted to be like them, so she could impress her Prince with her riding skills. Y/N also started battle training, and her father gifted her with a sword. Of course it wasn't something precious like valyrian steel, but it meant something to her. Her thin sword soon would become an object of fear to her enemies.

Her parents fed the girl's desire of becoming a warrior like her promised fiancé, but deep down she knew that it was all for nothing. Learning to ride her dragon was a necessity, since it was given to her, but she was never going to war, even if she wanted to. Years and years becoming the best swordswoman in Dorne, all for nothing.

Years later, Y/N finally became of age. She was 19 when her parents finally received an invitation to the royal annual tournament in King's Landing, where she would be introduced to the Prince, and they would wed before the competition.

"A tourney." She thought. Y/N never went to war, but she defeated every dornish soldier in combat. What was the difference between the king's soldiers and dornish soldiers? None. She could defeat them all.

They arrived in King's Landing in time for the tournament. Lord Martell explained to the king that his daughter was an excellent swordswoman, and would be representing House Martell at the competition. Viserys agreed and gave his permission for the girl to fight, even though he found it a crazy idea letting a young lady compete in a tournament against warriors and soldiers from all Westeros.

Whispers echoed loudly in the castle's walls. The staff talked a lot around her, and the maids tried to be quiet every time she entered a room. Eventually, Y/N heard gossip about the Prince she never met, her prince. He found a new lover, a whore. Of course Y/N never expected him to be in chastity until marriage, he is a man after all. But, she felt strange. Angry, perhaps? No, she wasn't angry. It was too predictable to be angry about it. Sad? Ha, Y/N never felt sad in her entire life, she had everything she could ever ask for. This was different, it was a new feeling. It was like someone took her conquest from her, something that was supposed to be hers. She felt... jealous. So maybe she was sad and angry, but it was all the bad feelings mixed up in one.

A maid was sent to call the sand dragon to the gardens, Princess Rhaenyra's orders. Our highness wanted to meet the beauty herself, and see if the dornish girl was everything they say. The princess discovered that Y/N was everything she heard and so much more. Every hint of doubt faded, and she thought that the girl could make her uncle happy. They had a bunch of things in common, and it would be funny to watch Daemon dealing with someone tough like him, even more so a woman.

"Tell me, my princess," The soldier started, "what does your uncle look like? Everyone tells me he's handsome. The most handsome Targaryen man since King Maegor. They say he's quite a brute like Maegor too." Y/N chuckled.

"Oh no, he's nothing like Maegor was. Maybe he's a brute in battle, but I promise you he's a nice man if you break his protection shell. He's a bit grumpy, but nothing you can't handle with your sword." Rhaenyra jokes.

"Don't you find it weird that I'll be the first woman competing in a royal tournament?" Y/N questioned. The princess smiled and placed a comforting hand on the warrior's shoulder.

"I find it inspiring. There's a lot of female dragonriders in my family, but the bravery was lost since Visenya and Rhaenys conquered our lands alongside Aegon. They were true soldiers, not just dragonriders. I don't even know how to use a sword." Rhaenyra laughed and Y/N smiled. Being used as an inspiration was the best compliment someone gave to her. It wasn't about her exotic beauty, but her skills.

A couple of days went by without Y/N meeting her prince. She heard the staff saying he was in Dragonstone with his whore, and he would stay there until the tournament day. Clearly he was avoiding meeting her. How weird was being engaged with someone for 19 years? To her it made no difference, but Daemon was 17 years old when his brother told him the boy was engaged to a baby.

Daemon was curious about the dornish dragon. He heard stories about her, and how she never lost a single combat against the dornish warriors. Daemon thought they were all weak, the dornish. Those people who always wanted to be independent, but the first chance they had to marry into royalty, they took it. She was no different. He wasn't gonna let himself be fooled by a pretty face. Marrying for duty wasn't gonna stop him from being with Mysaria.

King Viserys himself went to Dragonstone to bring his brother back to King's Landing, a week before the tournament day. Daemon came back home, leaving his lover behind. The king told him about the young lady, trying to make Daemon a little bit more interested in the girl. Viserys said he saw the girl training for the tournament, and that she could have chances of winning. That made Daemon laugh, reminding his brother that he would be the one representing House Targaryen, and that there was no way a dornish girl would beat him. The King reminded his younger sibling that the "dornish girl" was soon to be his wife.

The prince insisted for his brother that he didn't have to meet the girl before the marriage ceremony, since he already knew she was beautiful and didn't have anything to worry about. He said he wanted to cut the boring parts, since he waited 19 years for this day to come. Viserys agreed without questioning, but truth be told, Daemon just wanted to do whatever had to be done, and then go back to Dragonstone and his lover.

The following day, Y/N met her prince, the one she has been dreaming of her whole life. The one it was promised to her. That tall, handsome man in front of her was such a sight to see. Daemon Targaryen was in formal clothes, the top of his long hair was braided, and the serious demeanor in his face made him look even more gorgeous.

Daemon felt weird in her presence. His eyes had never laid in such beauty, part of the lady's silver hair was braided on the top of her head, while the back part fell on her shoulders like a water cascade. Y/N was wearing a beautiful, and quite revealing, bare shoulders yellow dress, reminding everyone where she's from.

The Rogue Prince chose to wed in the valyrian way, by "fire and blood", like most Targaryen couples do. King Viserys was the officiant, so the ceremony happened in the throne room. There were only a few members of the family, and The Hand, witnessing the valyrian wedding.

He never kissed her after that. The prince took her to his chambers because it was what they expected him to do, not because he wanted a complete stranger invading his space.

"So," Lady Y/N broke the awkward silence. It's been 10 minutes since they entered the room and Daemon faced his window. "should I undress?"

"It depends." Daemon muttered, "I don't want you to get sexually frustrated, if it happens once and never again."

"I see. You think there's not enough of my husband for me and his whore?" Y/N spat and Daemon turned to look at her, "Don't you worry, your highness. I would never get sexually frustrated because of you. I wouldn't be alone either."

"I could have you punished for that, you know? I don't know how things work in Dorne, but here a woman should respect her husband!"

"In Dorne, men are castrated if caught in adultery. That's why we are in favor of open marriage. That's when both parts are fine with being in the company of other people." Y/N said with a smile.

"Dornish people are crazy!" Daemon replied, annoyance was cleared in his voice.

"I'd say dornish people are evolving faster than the rest of the realm. You people should learn something with us. Now, since we're not having our wedding night, I'll rest." The princess took her dress and corset, falling onto the mattress right after.

Prince Daemon watched her undress, her perfect body being covered only by her golden nightgown. Men say that dornish women are the most beautiful creatures in the seven kingdoms, but Y/N was different. She had the flush of Dorne, and the features of Old Valyria. Her curves were hypnotic and her lilac eyes were magnetic. Sure, she was a true temptation, but Daemon was a warrior before a man. A real soldier could resist any kind of human desire, he was trained to resist any kind of need.

Y/N on the other hand, was mad. She fell for someone she had never met, the idea of a prince that only existed in her mind. Daemon was everything she pictured him to be, but she expected the same love towards her. Her broken expectation turned into anger. She felt motivated. Y/N wanted to make the Rogue Prince fall onto his knees and beg for her forgiveness. She wanted him to banish his whore from Dragonstone, and promise she was the only woman in his life from now on.

There was only one day left until the tournament. The Rogue Prince and The Sand Dragon had been sleeping in separate rooms. The dornish woman had been the most commented topic in gossip around the castle since she came to King's Landing, and it seemed like it was going to take long until it ceased.

Y/N trained in the gardens, also teaching Rhaenyra the basics in sword fighting. The princesses became friends really quickly, and Y/N felt like she wasn't alone anymore.

Her parents weren't talking to her, since people had been saying that she offended the prince and he regretted marrying her. Of course the staff noticed Daemon leaving their shared chambers in the middle of the night, that's all they've been talking about for days.

Rhaenyra was happy to find in Y/N a true friend and a good company, never leaving her lonely again. Syrax also found a true friend in Faora.

On the dragonpit, Rhaenyra took Y/N to meet the royal dragons and the place where the dornish's dragon had been staying at. The sand princess met Meleys, Dreamfyre, and Seasmoke. She had already met Syrax, since the Targaryen girl took her new friend flying the other day.

And then she saw him, the Blood Wyrm, with his red scales and long neck. He roared whistling loudly, but she wasn't intimidated by him. Caraxes moved in her direction, and lowered his head, where his nose was right in front of her. He huffed, making her silver hair fly. Chuckling, Y/N stretched her hand to pet him, which the dragon accepted gladly.

"He likes you." Rhaenyra smiled, "That's rare, he usually doesn't like anyone. Quite like my uncle, actually."

Y/N laughed as her fingers danced through the dragon's scales, "Well noticed."

"Do you want to go riding? I'll ask someone to saddle Syrax and Faora." Rhaenyra said and Y/N nodded, watching the princess leave the dragonpit.

The girl hummed as the dragon softly huffed to her touch. His warm scales getting even hotter under her hand, his eyes closing in comfort. He didn't seem like a menace much more than one of the cats in the castle.

"You're not so scary, aren't you?" Y/N smiled, and touched her forehead against the dragon, "No, you're not. I bet you're just like your daddy. Your tough act can't fool me, neither can his."

Caraxes opened his eyes and stared at the girl with his beautiful orange gaze. The dragon loved the attention he was getting.

"You're such a handsome boy. That's another thing you have in common with Daemon,"

The lady turned around to the masculine chuckle behind her, "Oh, really?"

The prince cocked his eyebrow. The sassy voice was noticeable.

"Please, don't mind me. I was quite enjoying your little chit-chat with my dragon." Daemon smirked and the princess rolled her eyes.

"Don't get too cocky, my prince. At least Caraxes knows how to behave in a lady's presence." Y/N shrugged and turned back to the dragon.

Daemon looked around, watching the magnificent white dragon on the corner of the pit. Her golden eyes shone in the darkness of the place. The prince took a few steps, and the dragon came closer to him. Caraxes watched the scene with caution, feeling a little tense to see his master so close to an unknown dragon.

Faora lowered her head to be in Daemon's height. She looked at her owner, expecting an order. The princess just smiled, and the dragon slightly pushed the prince's body with her nose making him laugh. Caraxes huffed again, this time in annoyance.

"You know," Daemon started, making the princess look at him, "I always thought my brother was a fool for giving you the egg. Dorne could be in possession of a dragon and decide to start a war. That's what I would have done."

Daemon placed his hand on the dragon's nose, that purred to his touch like a kitten.

"Using animals as weapons is a Targaryen thing, my prince. We are soldiers, we are trained to fight and win. Dragonfire is an advantage. To be brave is the real conquest, even if dying with it." The princess blurted out.

"And yet, it is dragonfire that reigns." The prince walked towards his wife.

"Life isn't always fair." Y/N said, her voice sounding lower than she expected. He was too close to her, his tall figure was covering her body.

Their violet eyes met. Daemon felt the urge to touch her, to feel her warm skin against his fingertips, but he controlled himself. Y/N took a deep breath, trying not to look intimidated.

Rhaenyra appeared at the entrance of the dragonpit, taking Y/N's attention. The dornish girl quickly vanished from the prince's sight, taking her friend's hand without saying a word.

The tournament day finally came. Y/N felt like it was the day to shut everyone down. The maids didn't even tried to hide anymore, gossiping in codes right in front of her, like she was some sort of stupid lady that couldn't understand what they're saying.

No one could look at Y/N and say she wasn't a lady. The most shining armor in her body and the sharpest sword in her hand wouldn't take away the femininity in her. She always fought with beauty and grace, making violence look pretty when done by her hands.

So she fought. One, two, three, more and more soldiers of the king were defeated by dornish hands. House Martell standards were held up high with pride. Prince Daemon was also winning combat alongside his beloved Dark Sister, but Y/N didn't let herself be bothered with the chance of fighting against her husband.

Y/N almost lost the fight against Ser Criston Cole. She fell from her horse, landing on the ground brutally. Her shoulder felt injured under the golden armor, probably badly bruised. The crowd looked shocked once she was back on her feet and someone came running to give her her sword.

Ser Criston made a great job knocking her out of the horse, but winning that fight wasn't going to be that easy. She made that very clear once her foot was on his chest, and the tip of her sword touched his face. He immediately surrendered.

Everyone cheered for her. The talents of dornish warriors were known throughout the country, but no one expected the girl to fight a real soldier.

Banners with the Targaryen symbol were raised. People cheered loudly for their prince, watching his glorious entrance. Daemon came on top of a black sorrel, wearing a black armor. His helmet drived attention, especially because of the wings and scales innit, reminding a dragon. He wanted to prove a point and show everyone what the house of the dragon was made of.

Y/N hopped on her horse again, taking a deep breath. They were both in place, staring at each other across the field. She held her spear in his direction, aiming for his chest. It took three rounds until one of them met the ground, and that was Daemon. Screaming for his sword, he watched the girl gracefully getting out of the saddle. Y/N took her own sword out of her helper's hand, and stayed defensive as the prince got closer to her.

"You should surrender, wife. I really don't want to hurt your pretty face" Daemon said in wit, as he swung his sword towards her.

Y/N smirked through the loud noises of the steel hitting against each other.

"You should be the one to surrender, my lord! I am not going anywhere," Her sword went straight to his face, where Daemon deviated from having his cheek cut.

Dark Sister's blade opened a wound in the lady's arm, splashing blood in it's length. Y/N whimpered in pain, but found enough strength to kick Daemon away from her. He took a few steps back, trying not to lose his balance as she came fearless in his direction. She screamed as her attack went for his neck, but the valyrian blade blocked her sword's way. Daemon grabbed her braids, and the girl could feel the cold steel against her neck.

"Surrender," Daemon mumbled against her ear.

"I'd rather die," She muttered between gritted teeth.

"If you don't surrender, I'll make it a tie. It will be disgraceful, since it's the same as losing in a shameful way." The prince threatened in a low voice.

There was no way of getting out of this. She was bleeding, and with a blade on her neck at his mercy.

They looked at each other. They had never been this close again since the day in the dragonpit. She could feel his warm breath against her ear. Moving her head slowly and getting even more close to him, their lips met. Daemon tasted salty, and one of them had definitely a bleeding mouth.

Daemon's grip around the sword loosened, and for seconds he forgot where they were. The place went completely silent, it was like no one was watching. His hand let go of her hair and went for her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin.

Completely free, Y/N opened her eyes and took a dagger out of a compartment in her trousers, slowly taking it to the prince's throat. She broke the kiss and went behind him, getting out of his sight, deepening the blade against his skin.

"Surrender," She whispered.

Daemon groaned once he realized her move, and touched her arm patting it for surrender.

"Lady Y/N of House Martell is the great winner of the tournament!" King Viserys announced.

Y/N tossed her dagger against the floor, finally relaxing her body after so much effort. She looked at her arm, bleeding out where part of her armor was destroyed. She didn't realize how much blood she was losing until then. Some drops were falling in the ground.

"Daemon" Y/N called, feeling her vision getting blurry and her legs getting weak.

The prince turned around in perfect timing to catch her before she fall. Her skin wasn't so warm anymore. Her eyes were shut closed, and worry took over Daemon.

When Y/N woke up, she was all alone in her chambers. She noticed someone had stitched her wounds, and her mouth tasted like milk of the poppy. She had a bad headache, and her shoulder was badly bruised from her fall. None of her maids were in sight, so she had nowhere to go.

Y/N closed her eyes again and tried to sleep a little more. That's when she heard the door opening noise. She sat on the bed, and watched prince Daemon entering the room.

"Oh, you're awake. Do you want me to get your maids? You must feel hungry," Daemon sat in front of her and took her hand, checking out her body temperature.

Y/N frowned. She couldn't recall what happened. "What time is it?"

"It's late, actually. I came to see you before heading to my room." Daemon muttered, analyzing the walls and the whole new decoration that the princess had done to his old chamber.

"This is your room, I'm invading your space. I should be the one to sleep in another place." She mumbled, playing with her fingers and avoiding his gaze.

"This is our room," He said, "it just took me a while to see it."

Y/N raised her head and their eyes met. She lost her words, and had no idea how to reply to that. Did he confess something? Did he like her?

"What happened? I remember... kissing you." She frowned once she noticed that her memories were kinda blurry.

"You did that. And, you used the kiss to distract me. You won." Daemon smiled.

"Well, I must say I'm not surprised. I'm really that good." She said playfully and the prince laughed.

"Yes, you are." Daemon smiled without showing his teeth, "How's your arm? I'm really sorry about that."

"It hurts but I'll be fine. And, we both know that you didn't mean for this to happen, Daemon. You have nothing to be sorry for." Y/N placed a comforting hand on his thigh.

Daemon looked at her hand, and placed his own on top of hers, giving it a little squeeze.

"Stay with me tonight." She asked softly.

"I will."

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen imagines #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #house of the dragon imagines

[creamecafe]

Hey! Can we get a Shuri x F!Reader fic, where the reader is mildly superpowered and had moved to Wakanda per request of the Queen after T'challa's passing to allow Shuri to have one trusted friend with her and she stays with her throughout Shuri's grieving period and fights alongside her and her people out at sea, earning herself the title of 'Hero' in the eyes of the Wakandan's despite not being one of their own, and of course, she and Shuri fall in love with eachother but they dont confess until before Shuri drinks the contents of her artificial heart, and before she goes she tells the reader she loves her incase the plant sends her into cardiac arrest and she dosent get the chance to tell her? Sorry for the long request.

Your the Only Friend I Need

*Spoilers for Black Panther: Wakanda Forever if you haven't seen it yet. You have been warned*

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Navigation | Who I Write For | Shuri Udaku Playlist | Also on Wattpad!

Summary: What the request said (Until I can make up a good summary)

Pairing: Shuri Udaku x Fem!Reader with Super-Powers

Warnings: mutual pining, mentions of death, grief, depression, friends to lovers, and eventually fluff at the end. Also not double checked but I'll have to get to that soon.

a/n: @ackroxia this is an absolutely great idea of a request tysm! And DW about it being so long it's perfect!

The king is dead. T'Challa is dead. It was hard for you to accept the news that your close friend is gone. Especially thinking of how the Queen and his sister are feeling due to his death. You have been meaning to reach out to Shuri but didn't know when the right time was.

She was your best friend. Of course, the right thing to do is bring her comfort but didn't know how.

Your thoughts were disturbed as you hear a knock on your door and you go to approach to see who's there.

You look through the peephole and it was none other than the powerful female soldier group known, as the Dora Milaje. You open the door and allowed them in.

"Okoye and Ayo. It's nice to see you both. What brings you here?"

"Hello Y/N it's nice to see you too," Okoye smiled.

"We are here by the Queens' order" Ayo answered.

Oh no. The Queen. It could either mean something good or bad.

"The Queen. What does she need? How can I be a help of assistance?"

"She wants you to come to Wakanda in order of comfort for Shuri due to her state of the Kings death."

"Of course my condolences to the king. And how's Shuri?"

"Not so well. She spends much of her time in the lab. Rarely gets out to socialize or eat."

"I can imagine the death of her brother and how it affects her. They were really close."

"Indeed they were. We need you to come to Wakanda."

"Of course. I don't mind staying a couple of weeks there to comfort Shuri."

"No, I'm not talking about weeks. I mean permanently."

Permanently? Living in Wakanda permanently? It sounds like a dream because you have been to the country before to fight Thanos and how beautiful it is but to live there permanently never crossed your mind.

"Permanently? Like I stay there forever, leaving all my stuff here and my home?"

"I know it sounds like a lot. But Shuri could really use comfort."

You stopped and pondered a moment to think about the choice you would have to make. Shuri is your friend. It feels like a privilege you are chosen as a comfort to be by Shuri's side in an amazing country.

You took a deep breath in and sighed.

"I will go to Wakanda. For Shuri."

"We will help you bring your stuff."

You then started packing your stuff in order to leave your home and enter your new one, Wakanda. After you had everything packed and head off to the ship waiting outside, just practically calling your name, you looked back at your home and how much you will miss it. But then you remember this is for Shuri, a choice you made. You turn your head towards it and never looked back.

Now you were on the ship settled in and waiting for you to arrive at your destination.

-Time Skip-

You had now arrived at Wakanda and were now in the citadel guarded by more of the Dora Milaje. You walked to the meeting room and where the throne is. The doors opened and there stood the most powerful woman known, the Queen of Wakanda, hence her real name Ramonda.

"Queen." You bow down in respect towards her.

"Y/N. You are a friend to Wakanda and part of this family. There's no need to bow."

"I know but my parents always taught me to respect my elders." I smile at her and she does too

She goes to hug me and I reach in. Her hug was firm but also soft. Once you pulled out of the hug, she put her hands on your shoulders and slowly slide to your hands.

"I thank you for coming to Wakanda. I'm sorry for the short notice, but I just want my daughter to be alright."

"No it's ok I understand. My condolences to you and Shuri about the king, your son. First your husband and now your son. I can't imagine the pain you are going through."

"Well here in Wakanda, death is not the end." She smiled sweetly and cupped my face.

"You are a very strong woman Queen, I always admired that about you."

"You are very sweet Y/N, I always loved that about you."

Your heartbeat happily at her kindness.

"Come I'll let you see Shuri."

You nodded and followed her to Shuri's lab. You forgotten how big it was and how much you missed it.

You climb down the steps and see a whole bunch of technology around you and hologram screens. Then you saw her, Shuri.

"Shuri, I have a surprise for you."

"I don't think I'll be interested mama."

"Why you haven't even seen it yet? It's a special someone."

Shuri turns around rolling her eyes until she stops when she sees you. Her eyes widened.

"Y/N?"

"Hi Shuri," You smiled.

"Y/N, oh my god why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"Well um.."

"I had her come to my request. To comfort you."

"Wait you requested for her to come?"

"To stay with you permanently."

"What? No mama, no you can't do that to Y/N. She can't be here because you want her to, what about her family, her home?"

"Shuri it's ok. I wanted to come here. I chose to. For you."

"But..." Shuri sighed.

"You need someone by you and I will do that." I interrupted her and held her shoulder. "I don't care if I have to stay in Wakanda for the rest of my life. I just want you to be ok. That's what matters to me""

Shuri looked down. She felt guilty that you're willing to leave your home to stay in Wakanda with her. She never had someone be her first priority before, especially you.

"I appreciate it Y/N. Thank you so much "

"Now you see why I wanted her to come here Shuri" Ramonda smiled at Shuri.

"Yes mama" Shuri laughed and you smiled too.

"I'll let you two be," Ramonda said as she left the lab.

You both look as the Queen leaves the lab and then turn to each other and smile.

"Do you want me to show you your room?"

"Yeah of course."

You both laugh as you leave the lab to see your new room. When you both arrived it was beautiful. The windows were big enough to see over the city of Wakanda and the night sky with many stars. You were able to put your luggage in and soon be able to decorate it the way you want. You and Shuri just spend the rest of the day talking and hearing how she's doing with the passing of T'Challa.

The first night of Wakanda has been comforting and soothing. The guards had given you comfort clothing, clothing of their culture, and sandals. The food was just immaculate with the seasonings put into it.

When you first took a bit of the food, your eyes widened. Shuri taking a sight at this laughed.

"Is it good?"

"Good? Amazing! Why didn't I have some sooner?"

You both laugh and continue eating.

After eating, you went to take a nice steamy hot bath and just sighed at the calm and relaxing experience. After you were done, you put your pajamas on and were heading to bed. You went to Shuri's room and knocked on the door. Shuri went to the door and opened it. She smiled when she saw you.

"Hey Y/N"

"Hey, Shuri I just came to say goodnight."

"Well, goodnight to you. And thank you for choosing to stay in Wakanda. " She went and gave you a hug

"Or course," You embraced the hug. "Anything for you."

"I know you probably miss your home and family."

"I do but I can make this my home and find my new family here." You smile

Shuri smiled as well. She was lucky to have a friend devoted as you, especially moving to a whole new country.

"Thank you really. Have a goodnight."

"You too Shuri."

Shuri closes her bedroom door and you walk back to your room. You close the door behind you and go to the window. You take a look at the city with lights in buildings, majority dimmed and majority turned off. You felt fortunate that you would be seeing this view every night from now on.

You walk to your bed and settle in under the blankets. You look up at the ceiling and sighed with a smile on your face.

Maybe staying Wakanda for a long time wouldn't be so dreadful after all as you thought.

Let me know if you want to be tagged in part 2 and 3!

#shuri udaku #shuri x reader #black panther wakanda forever #black panther #black panther 2 #wakanda forever #fem!reader #f!reader #marvel #mcu #request #creamecafe #x reader fluff #pining #mutual pining #black panther x reader #pantera negra: wakanda para sempre #fluff fic #fluff #requests #open requests #reqs open #navigation #ribs by lorde #mcu phase 4 #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic writer

[distort-opia]

This might sound silly and i know bruce is bisexual and all but from a queer standpoint, the scene where he proposes to selina feels a lot like compulsory heterosexuality. "I love you. I HAVE to love you."

And considering the timeline, joker was HIDDEN INSIDE BRUCE'S BASEMENT my god the implications, the metaphor....

Yeah, the whole thing is... [clears throat] very interesting. These two panels, which happen relatively close in time, put it into perspective:

Batman (2016) #32 // Dark Days: The Casting

However, to be entirely honest, I don't think Bruce proposing to Selina, and that whole arc... can be boiled down to just compulsory heterosexuality. It's more complicated than that. Bruce is doing this after interacting with the Batman of Flashpoint, his own father, who begs him to try and be happy. And Bruce's idea of happiness, very much inspired by Thomas', is settling down with a woman and having a family. Gaining peace.

Tom King is the one who wrote the wedding arc, and the whole thing is permeated by this... typically masculine, American idealization of women as this isle of peace that a tortured man yearns for, but can never fully choose. I'm sure there's names for this trope or stereotype, but I'm too lazy to look this up. Think Michael Mann movies, think James Bond movies, think stories about criminals and agents and soldiers leading a dark violent life aspiring to put down arms, and the whole dream being entangled with a woman. A female character who usually isn't fleshed out beyond the representation of leaving a life of violence behind, having a nice wife and nice children in a nice house with a nice white picket fence. Tbh it's not surprising to me that King ended up writing Bruce and Selina with these undertones, because of King's infamous background with the CIA before he became a comic book writer.

And thing is, I don't think it's inaccurate to portray Bruce this way. Bruce has lead a long life of violence, and he wants to want to stop. He wishes it didn't define him as much as it does, he wishes there was another path for him-- and this wish drives his attempt to settle down with Selina. "I have to love you" is less about "you're a woman and I should marry a woman", it's more about "if I love you I am more of a human being, and I need that." Yes, it's compulsory heterosexuality too, in the sense that Bruce is drawing from the heteronormative idea that happiness can only be achieved through normality, and normality = wife and retirement. But it's also a sad, desperate attempt at salvaging himself through Selina, whom he does love... but the things he loves about her are less about her, and more about himself. In the end, his own subconscious acknowledges all of it, during the Knightmares arc:

Batman (2016) #69

[sigh] It's all quite sad. And I've said it in a different post, but this is partly why -- in a seemingly paradoxical way -- a relationship with Joker has the potential to work. "You can't love anyone but the Vow, but the Bat," Selina (a figment of his own mind) tells Bruce. And Joker is part of the Vow. In many ways, over the decades, Joker has become the endgame of the Vow, the incarnation of all the things the Bat is supposed to defeat. It's fucked up and makes me want to chew on glass, but the Bat could allow loving Joker, because loving Joker would be a part of the Mission.

Anyway, I went on a bit of an unncessary tangent, but yeah! I do agree, Anon. So many implications.

#asks #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne meta #batjokes #batcat

[hedwig221b]

HIIII can you list some of your favourite angst heart-wrenching sobbing sliding down the walls fics ? idc if it’s short or long i need some angst rnn please and thank uuu <3

Hi, sweetie! This was difficult for me, bc I'm a sucker for angst, basically all I read is angst and I have like 200 fics saved. Here's a looong list of the ones which I know for sure I can always come back to for some good old angst.

STEREK ANGST FIC RECS from HEDWIG221B

By Any Other Name by entanglednow

(Explicit, 33k, Amnesia, Violence)

He doesn't know his name, he doesn't know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he's on the run with. But he's pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.

all roads they lead me here by spaceprincessem

(Teen, 39k, Mates, Emissary Stiles)

“Then why wouldn’t you be Derek’s emissary?” Stiles asked. He just wished Deaton would get to the fucking point. He was tired and he hated playing twenty questions to figure out what the older man was getting at.

“Derek’s emissary needs to be someone who he trusts completely,” Deaton explained, “and it’s time I passed on my wisdom and expertise to that person.”

The beat of silence between them stretched for too long before Stiles realized exactly who Deaton was talking about.

“Me?” He asked incredulously.

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

(Mature, 25k, Medieval, Royalty, Pining)

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend.

In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better.

~*~

Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

won't you torture someone else's sleep by redeyedwrath

(Gen, 3,6k, Pining)

I love you, Derek thinks, but he doesn’t say it, just watches Stiles throw his head back in laughter that isn’t for him and never will be. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Maybe if he thinks it hard enough, Stiles will hear him.

Wants & Needs by MadcapRomantic

(Explicit, 33k, ABO, Mating Run, Bad Peter)

Derek Hale has been participating in the Beacon Hills Mating Run for a decade, each year coming up without a mate. His mother, convinced this is his lucky year, persuades him to run one last time.

Enter Stiles, a young Omega with an unwanted Alpha nipping at his heels.

Family or not, Peter is determined to have Stiles.

But convinced they are True Mates, there isn't anything Derek won't do to keep Stiles safe.

To Whom The Wolf King Bows by MadcapRomantic

(Explicit, 108k, 14/?, Courting, Fantasy, Royalty)

Stiles Stilinski meets The Wolf King, the very boogeyman he'd spent his younger years terrified of; yet the man is little, if anything, like the tales he's heard. But, Stiles has spent the last ten years of his life as a slave, under the harsh whip of the cruel King Gerard Argent, and trusting Derek - trusting anyone - is beyond difficult.

xcaellachx

Just check out this author, there's some major angst in a lot of their works, a lot of ABO

Hung The Moon by nrnyx

(Explicit, 85k, ABO, Pack Dynamics, Heavy Angst)

Slowly Stiles got control of himself again. His heart calmed. His breathing evened out. The anger was gone. In its place, a bone-deep weariness settled. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t survive this.

A gift worth giving by Nival_Vixen

(Mature, 2k, Historical Fantasy, Royalty)

A person’s virginity is not only the physical act itself, but also an object that can be gifted to someone else. Stiles has given his virginity to Derek, one of the soldiers in the King’s Guard. Despite his parting promise to return the next month, Derek still hasn’t returned two months later, and Stiles doubts that he ever loved him at all.

The Bargain by dr_girlfriend

(Teen, 9,7k, Arranged Marriage, Regency AU)

Time drags on, and it becomes apparent that this is not a part of the tradition. The wolves start to shift on their feet and murmur, but no one attempts to speak to Stiles. He stands, feeling the back of his neck growing red from the sun and his face growing red from embarrassment.

What will happen if Derek Hale cannot be coerced to the altar? Will the bargain be revoked?

Perception by DiscontentedWinter

(Mature, 5,4k, Horror, Nogitsune, Murder)

Peter Hale's client is a murderous sociopath. The best thing Peter can do is get him committed to Eichen House, where he'll never see daylight again.

He thinks.

The Omega Spark by misteeirene

(Explicit, 62k, ABO, Alive Hales, Pack Dynamics)

John lived a sad and lonely life after the death of his wife, until one day when he noticed someone had breaking into his home while he was at work.

Second Chances by rootbeer

(Gen, 2,6k, Soulmates)

"A lot of times the ‘markings’ were common, simple things you said to strangers all the time. 'Excuse me'; 'thank you'; 'hello'. Some got extremely romantic things like 'it’s you isn’t it? I’ve been waiting for you' or 'Wow you’re really pretty'. And they were always the first words their soulmate would ever say to them.

Of course, having 'You are the fucking worst kind of person in the world' tattooed down your side, didn’t bode well. How fucked up was Stiles Stilinski that even his fucking Soulmate hated him? High School had been a special kind of hell when all the kids learned what his tattoo said—despite his best efforts to keep it a secret."

My Wolf by Dexterous_Sinistrous

(Teen, 7,6k, ABO, Full-shift werewolves, Pack Dynamics)

“If he wants to mate Stiles, why not let him?” Jackson asked, ready to part with Stiles if need be.

“Because if I did that, I’d be demoting Lydia,” Alpha Stilinski replied.

“We don’t even know how good of a Beta he is,” Lydia countered, bristling some that her status was being challenged.

“That’s because he’s not a Beta,” Alpha Stilinski stated. “He’s an Alpha.”

I Shouldn't Love you Anymore by wulfarchival (wyrmwolf)

(Mature, 2,2k, Established sterek, Feral Derek)

After Stiles divorces Derek under mysterious reasons, Derek moves out into the middle of nowhere loosing himself to the wolf after the ache in his chest becomes too much. But after weeks of being lost to an animal someone he thought he'd never see again returns in his life.

This time to stay forever.

Cut to the Bone by standinginanicedress

(Explicit, 112k, ABO, Secret Relationship)

“Not that it’s any of your god damn business, but my name is Stiles. Do you need something?”

The alpha grins. All teeth, shiny white, straight as an arrow. He’s got this sculpted perfection to him that Stiles is sure has worked on all the omegas he’s ever encountered before, but Stiles stands his ground and narrows his eyes. “A date.”

Stiles looks him up and down, slowly, from the black shoes on his feet, to his uniform khakis and blazer littered with pins, to his face. He frowns, makes a face, and says, “pass.”

Life After This by Nimpalous

(Mature, 5,1k, Violence, MCD, Soul Bond, I consider this having a HE)

Feeling his weight shift backwards over the ledge when another bullet hit, Stiles closed his eyes and whispered the name of his beloved as he fell.

“Derek…”

Derek woke up with an agonising scream, his body curling in on itself in pain. He wasn’t aware of having wolfed out, he didn’t know he was clawing himself as he clutched at his head, willing the agony to go away… but to no avail.

Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill

(Mature, 70k, Time Travel, Mates, ptsd!Stiles)

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them."

The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

It seems wasted now by DaaroMoltor

(Teen, 48k, Slow Burn, Miscommunication, Stiles is pushed out of the pack)

It's been months. Months of lonely days and lonelier nights.

And Stiles can't understand what he did wrong.

Under Glass by calrissian18

(Mature, 6,6k, Pining, Cursed Stiles)

The pack goes looking for a cursed artifact. Stiles would really like to go back to the time before he found it, thanks.

Time To Say Goodbye by matildajones

(Teen, 34k, Time Travel, Mates, HE)

Derek finds an older version of himself at his front door, along with Stiles, a boy from the future.

Emissary by dragon_temeraire

(Teen, 3,7k, Alive Hales, Bonding)

To keep the peace, Stiles agrees to be emissary to the Hale pack.

One Thread by RurouniHime

(Mature, 11k, Established sterek, Grief, HE)

In the middle of the night, his dad comes into the room and crawls onto the bed behind him, easing Stiles into the vee of his legs. He settles back against the headboard with a groan and doesn’t say anything for a long time. Stiles wraps his arms around one of his dad’s legs, presses his cheek to warm flannel, and tries to be still.

“Oh, kid,” his dad exhales. His hand comes down on the side of Stiles’ neck and his fingers press gently. “I never wanted you to know this pain.”

(Or, Derek dies. Stiles reacts Badly.)

#sterek #sterek fic #stiles x derek #sterek fic rec #sterek fanfic #eternal sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #hedwig221b replies #ao3 sterek #sterek fics #sterek fandom #sterek angst

[bokettochild]

For the febwhump:

Day 10 with little legend in ALTTP and killing a knight for the first time?

Okay, so Legend wasn't really talking (shock and grief do that, it's okay) so this is Fable's POV. I hope you enjoy it!

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 4,985

Summary: Death is familiar to the little girl who will one day be queen. To the boy she had to ask to be her champion, not so much.

Zelda has never particularly thought about death before. 

Sure, mother and father were betrayed and killed by a dear friend, and she knows this, but it’s just as much a fact of life to her as the stones of the castle and the swords in the hands of her grandfather’s knights. Death exists and she’s seen it, seen public executions held for terrible criminals and traitors to the crown, but even to her tender years these things are simply part of life. The people who die are always faceless people who don’t matter anymore, and she’d never known her parents anyway, so why should she mourn for them? 

She’s heard the castle staff call her a ‘cold little thing’, but in a world where her destiny is to wait for the next escape of a demon she or her descendants must face, how can they blame her? Especially since most of the staff don’t seem to like her much anyway, or Grandfather. She gets the idea that the king of Hyrule isn’t liked at all by most people, but she doesn’t know why and she’s long since given up asking. The knights only assure her with their loyalty and the servants excuse themselves under the pretext of having chores to attend to. 

It’s alright, she doesn’t really care what they think. She doesn’t really care about them either. 

That is, until suddenly her maid is dead and she’s being hauled down to a dungeon by soldiers who now do not swear their allegiance with charming smiles, but who march, stone-faced, to lock her up, despite her demands to know what’s going on, what they think they’re doing, and what on earth is wrong with them. She can feel it, a heavy magic settled over them, and she doesn’t blame them for their actions, since she knows they aren’t in control, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying when she’s tossed into the cold stone cell and left there, locked up like one of Grandfather’s prisoners. Calls into the darkness for answers go unheard, and as the night drags on, all she can do is wish, wish, wish for someone to please just answer, to get her out. 

Maybe the servants wouldn’t call her a cold little thing if they could see her curled up in her cell, pretty dress ruined and golden hair dirty, sobbing her eyes out into her skirts, but they aren’t here. She doesn’t even know if they’re alive. She doesn’t mourn them either, although there's some distant idea of sadness that their families might not see them again and that they don’t deserve to die just because of whatever it is that’s happening. Still, death isn’t a very present thought in her mind until at last, she manages to catch wind of what’s going on. 

Aganim, her father’s old friend and counselor, who’s been serving her grandfather for some time now, has betrayed them, has taken control of the minds of their knights, and now intends to re-open the Sacred Realm, which her ancestors sealed, in order to- like so many other foolish, foolish people- try and obtain the Triforce. To do it, he must first gain the power of the seven sages and the princess herself, and based on what little she knows of dark magic, she’s rather sure he’s not just going to ask them all nicely. 

She needs to get out, desperately. She needs to get out before Aganim uses her magic to open the way to the realm where Ganon is sealed! She needs to get out before he kills her, using her like an offering, just like what almost happened to the Spirit Maiden all those thousands of years ago! 

Her wishes and cries to the heavens grow more and more desperate. A call to anyone, just anyone, to please just come and help her! 

“Who's calling to me?” The answering voice startles her, makes her pull her head up and look around, trying to see the person speaking. The voice sounds almost like her own, but tired, so tired, and somewhat confused. 

She feels the same. She hasn’t been able to rest all day, attending to her studies, and now she’s spending the night in a dungeon, away from feathered pillows and heavy blankets and any small semblance of warmth. She wants out, but here, at last, someone’s heard her. 

“My name is Zelda,” she says back, wishes back. She doesn’t think there’s a person here with her, just a voice. 

She’s heard those favored by the Triforce can gain strange power, but being able to send and receive thoughts isn’t something she’d been counting on. Still, she’s not complaining, and she’s not going to question it either, just as long as she can get out of here and back to someplace safe.  

Oh heavens, is grandfather safe? Will Aganim do anything to him? He doesn’t have powers to use and he’s not much of a threat these days, not without anyone to back him up. Will the wizard maybe let her grandfather go? Just lock him up or hide him or not let him do anything? Is he under control of the wizard too, like the knights? 

“I’m Link,” the voice answers, still confused, still tired, still sounding too young to do her any good.  

She’s no adult herself, but everyone else is. Still, maybe he can tell someone? Maybe he can send help? At least someone can hear her, she’s not going to give up just because they sound like they’re her age! “Help! I’m Zelda! I’m trapped in the castle dungeons! Please, send some help!” 

Like a ribbon slipping between her fingers, the presence she could feel answering her; the warmth and light and ray of hope, slips away, no voice answering in return. She slumps down onto the stone again, sobbing. It’s not fair! She hasn’t done anything wrong! She doesn’t understand! Why is this happening? Why would her father’s old friend do this to them? Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Why is the only one to hear her a child? 

Just a boy. Just some kid out there who probably doesn’t know how to get around in a castle or how to deal with a knight or a wizard. Just a kid, and she knows, she knows, kids never get listened to! No one listens to her, and she’s the princess! So why would anyone listen to a random kid? Especially one who tries to say that the princess is in danger, when most people don’t like royals to begin with, and anyway, no one’s going to believe that sort of thing! As far as anyone outside the castle probably thinks, she’s all tucked up in her big bed, just finished with dinner, and drifting off to sleep. Who’d bother to check and see otherwise? Especially if it’s only at the behest of a child! 

Maybe some people think she’s cold, but the sobs that ring through the dungeons sound terribly awful to her, and it’s enough to make her cry harder, because try as she might, the sounds and sights of crying just makes her cry, no matter how much she fights it. Her own tears echo back off the stone, like the wailing of some tortured soul, and her mind flies off to what and who might have been here before her. 

What sorts of people have lived in these dungeons? Died in these dungeons? Where there ever any little girls like her? Did they die down here? Did they escape? Did they have mums and dads to try and get them out, to hold them, or did they get left down here like she is? Just sobbing and crying with no one to hear them until they died and did whatever dead things do. 

The old books say that dead things are monsters that wander around, long and thin with ghastly smiles, and attack heroes and knights when they come too close. What if that sort of a dead-monster is down here? Gibdoes, she thinks they’re called, or is it redeads? Whatever they are, she doesn’t want them to be down here. She’d much rather be alone and forgotten than be found by something so awful.  

Except she won’t be forgotten, her mind whispers, and it’s not such a comforting thought as she wishes it was. Aganim knows she’s here, and he wants to keep her here until he’s ready to sacrifice her, split her open and make her blood spill to give power to his spell.  

She’s seen heads chopped off before, but they were far away and not important. She didn’t care who they were, because it didn’t matter once they were dead and she couldn’t do anything about it anyway. Will other people think about her that way? Will it not matter? Impa will care, and Grandfather too- if he’s still okay, if he finds out, but who else will care? The knights who are nice to her are now mean and cold, and the servants never liked her anyway. The thought of being forgotten is worse than the idea of turning into a dead monster and trying to eat people- or something, but she’s all out of sobs and her eyes hurt from crying. 

It doesn’t matter anyways, no one can hear her either way. 

Or, rather, she thought so, only there’s the sound of feet in the hall. Feet that patter softly and do not thud and thump like the heavy boots that knights wear or swish and shuffle like the wizard in his great heavy robe. No, they creep slowly across the stone, slow and unsure, like a deer coming slowly out of the trees. They move quietly and quickly, but hesitate, and that alone tells her it’s not a rambling, long dead evil that wanders the halls, nor a servant or soldier who knows this castle. It's not feet she knows, but foreign feet are her best chance of getting out, so she pulls herself up, wipes away what’s left of her tears, and moves to peek through the bars of her cell and out into the hall. 

She cannot see anything but stone. Whomever crafted these cells had no intention of allowing the occupants to see what was happening anywhere save just in front of the door.  

She can still hear though. She can hear the quiet, unsure tapping of boots. More importantly though, she can feel, and that delicate, evasive ribbon of hope drifts back into her hands, a light presence making itself know in the darkness around her, like a candle coming alight befgore her tired and puffy eyes. 

The boy. 

Link. 

She isn’t sure why he’s here, alone, but at least someone is trying. It’s more than she supposes some people would do, and at least he listened to her, which is far more than most people have done! His steps are wary, but she calls out, with her mind, like before, rather than her voice, urging him closer, telling him that’s he’s close, almost there. Just a little further and he’ll be here and maybe, just maybe, they can figure out some way to get this prison open, or at least she can tell him what’s going on so he can tell someone else. 

If the Sacred Realm is unsealed, Ganon will be set free, and the people of Hyrule are not prepared for that. They need to send warning- she needs to send warning, needs to tell someone and get the word out, to give something to her people so they know that things aren’t as they seem, that they’re sitting on the edge of a precipice, too close to the fiery hell before them. Her history books talk about a time when Ganon won, when he ruled their kingdom. She doesn’t want that for them, especially because she’s heard grandfather say they’ve only just recovered from that war. They can’t take it again. Hyrule needs peace. She doesn’t think peace is likely, but maybe they can stop too much of the world from being hurt by the evil magic, if they stop Aganim before he can do anything more. 

The feet stop. 

She can hear breathing now, soft and rattling somewhat, like her own does as she tries so hard to look through the bars of her prison. Has he been crying, like she has? Come to think of it, if she, locked up and also away from anything else in here, is scared, how must it be for some common boy who’s probably never been in the castle? Or the dungeons much less? For all she knows, he might have been here before, to visit someone or say goodbye before an execution, but still! He’s got to be at least a little scared too. 

She tries reaching out, listening again. His voice had been tired then, but she’d heard it, heard it from far away (because she knows there aren’t any little boys in the castle; she’s the only one her age). She could hear it then, so he, like her, must have been able to catch ahold of her thoughts, sent out like a wish to the stars she can’t see from in here. That means maybe she can reach out and hear his! 

Except that the sound of a loud clang makes her jump, startle back and fall over, unable to see what it was that made the sound, but well able to hear what’s happening, and tell that it’s very close indeed. There’s a scuffle, a gasp that shudders before there’s panting, feet skidding over stone and another loud clang.  

It sounds like the executioner’s axe on the stone of a courtyard. 

“Shit!”  

It’s him. It's Link. That's his voice, breathing and panting and gasping as she hears another clang, this time the blade screeching off of stone. 

Desperately, she moves along the bars of her cell, trying to see out, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s happening. She’d call out, but Grandfather always told her to keep quiet if she hears things that worry her. Enemies might be close and she should never make it known where she’s hiding, because that puts her and anyone with her in danger, and princesses should not put people in danger if they can help it. So, she keeps her mouth shut, and her ears open. 

Light feet dart, this time without hesitation, a hiss of breath that maybe carries soft words on it sounding, as well as the rasping of a second voice, breathing within something. Breathing within something heavy and thick, making it echo. It sounds like a knight, one with one of those very big and scary helmets that Grandfather makes them take off if she’s around, so she can see their real faces instead of the cold iron ones. 

She hopes it’s not a knight. 

The sound of an axe hitting stone, yet again, says it might be. 

Link’s voice is panting, feet darting. She hears a hiss of steel, a sword drawing, and then there are a series of very loud blows. There’s yelps and shouts from Link, but nothing from the heavy, echoing breather, just the slam of an axe, again and again. 

She can’t do anything. She can’t help or watch and she can only hear the awful sounds, the cry of pain from what she thinks has to be Link, and the clang, clang, clang of blades on stone, on armor, or on each other. She can only sit. Only sit and hope. 

No, she can pray. Grandfather says that her lineage, that mother and grandmother and all of them, that their prayers mean something extra special, because they have power from the heavens. When bad things happen, even if he won’t let her know what, he always tells her to pray. Pray for their people and the kingdom and for him, so he’ll do what he should, or can figure out what to do. She always does. Impa takes her to the little prayer rooms in the castle, or sometimes down to the church, and she offers prayers between her studies and her meals until Grandfather tells her that things are better again. She may not be good at a lot, but she has lots of practice praying, so even though the cell floor is so dirty and the clanging of weapons is nothing like the deep ringing of bells, she still kneels and prays as hard as she can. Prays until she hears a scream and a shout and heavy thud.  

The clanging stops. 

She keeps praying. Please let Link have won. She doesn’t know how (unless maybe he’s a squire? Yes that could work!) but she needs it to be him who won. She needs to know that the only person who can hear her call for help is indeed the one who’s still standing, because she doesn’t know if she can handle having hope stray so close only to be torn away at the very last of seconds. 

Soft, gently scuffing boots creep across the floor again, heavy panting, like a fawn just escaped from a hunter, peeking out to see if it’s safe once more. 

“Link? Is that you?” She doesn’t get up, keeps her hands folded, she’s got to be ready to start praying for help again if it isn’t. 

The voice that answers back is gentle candle-light and warmth, although it shakes and stammers. “M-Miss Zelda?” She doesn’t have time to get up before feet move closer and then there’s a boy standing in front of her. He’s short, maybe her height but probably a bit shorter, with messy pink hair hastily tucked under a green cap. His eyes are wide and blown out in the darkness, but the lantern in his hand makes them dance a bit too, almost red. Red to match the blood that spatters up and across his front, covers his boots and still touches his hands and the cloak wrapped up around him. “Are you okay?” 

She blinks. Is she okay? Why is he asking that? She’s the one who just sat in here, praying, untouched, and he was the one that fought...whatever it is that he just fought. “I’m alright. Are you? You’re covered in blood...” 

He winces, looks away, doesn’t look down and instead his flickering eyes dart all over everything else, as if desperate to not think about the fresh crimson all over him. “I’m okay.” And then, a moment later. “It’s....it’s not mine.” 

His tunic is ripped a bit on one side, and she can see where damage has been done, but she doesn’t challenge him. Boys are funny, Impa says, and if you tell them they’re wrong they pout and throw a fit and won't listen to you anymore. Link’s the first person who’s listened in a long time; she doesn’t want to lose that. Instead, she just nods, doubtful, but doesn’t say anything. It’s not like either of them can do anything about it anyways. She can’t heal and there’s nothing she can offer him either. 

He glances at her, and she recognizes abruptly that his eyes are terribly vacant. He’s there, he sees her, but he doesn’t seem to register anything else, just stare at her dumbly, like he’s not all inside his head. 

“Did you happen to see a key somewhere?” It’s sort of a reach, since she doubts that the wizard would make it that easy, but the flickering crimson eyes turn back again towards the way he’d come from, and she can see him shudder, revulsion briefly marring his otherwise rather pretty features.  

He nods. “Yeah.” There’s no waiting for her to say anything, just the setting down of the lantern in his hand, an old thing but well-tended, and he moves back out of her sight again. There’s some shuddering and catching of breath, rustling and clanking, and a squelch she supposes might be blood. He’s back again a moment or so later, slower than before, but holding the keys. They’re also covered in blood. He’s got more on him too, but his dull eyes are focused on the door, on unlocking it and pushing it open, and she’s quick to stand when he does. 

She will not stay any longer, not now that there’s a way out. She’s not sure which of them took the other’s hand first, but as she tells him where to go, he leading the way with the light and with a still dripping sword on his back, and she following, it doesn’t matter. She follows past the fallen corpse of what she recognizes as the royal executioner, through the halls that run rampant with rats, trudging through sewers and mire and muck. The ground underfoot squelches, making her stomach churn. The quickly cooling blood that smears over her hand from Link’s own only makes it worse, and she fights back the urge to pull away. She has to stay with him though; he’s her only hope and only protector, there’s no other way out and she can’t do this alone. 

They walk and walk, and she’d never realized before how many traps and dangers lay between the castle and the many hidden exits it possesses. The tunnel is cold, is wet, is damp, and once they exit again into the outside world, she finds it’s much the same. Rain beats down, lighting flashing overhead and thunder booming in their ears as they dart across the open spaces of Hyrule Field. Now out of the castle, she’s not sure what they ought to be doing, but she follows him. She’s never allowed outside alone, but he’ll know this land well, he’ll have lived here. He’ll know enough to hopefully know a safe place for them to hide. Still, it’s terrifying. She’s never seen the world flash like this, never slipped and tripped and made herself this muddy before. Link wraps her in his cloak, eyes still blank and distant, hands deft and fumbling, and while it’s warmer, by just a bit, it smells terribly of blood. Still, it’s better than nothing. 

In time, through the rain, she can make out a familiar structure. Almost like a second home for how often she’s been there; the church rises up before them with it’s spires and glittering windows, bells chiming twice and twice only, just as they’re hurrying up towards the doors. She knows they’ll be unlocked. 

They are. 

Link pushes them open with some trouble, more than they require at any rate, but it’s only then that she realizes that he’s shaking. Not from cold, she doesn’t think, otherwise it would have started far earlier, he would have been shaking when he first came to her, because he was soaked then too, wet and spattered in muck from the sewers as well as the blood. No, now he’s shaking so violently that she finds herself reaching to take the lantern from his hand the moment they're inside the dimly lit sanctuary. 

“Princess Zelda?” The familiar voice of the church Father catches her attention, making her turn from her companion to face the man. It’s two in the morning by the ring of the bells, and she can’t fathom why he’s awake, but there’s a candle burning and the smell of incense in the air, familiar and, like Link himself, an assuring presence that makes her heart stop the pounding in her chest, settling instead with a heavy sigh and soft cry she didn’t know was still left in her. 

The Father hurries towards them, and while she’s always been taught to be reverent, she can’t help but throw herself into open arms, shaking and trembling herself as his hand soothes her hair, warm, creaking voice- ancient as the trees she thinks sometimes, sounding in words she doesn’t bother to hear. 

They’re brought in and given warm blankets, and the bell-ringer appears to offer them warm tea, which she drinks slowly while the Father sits between them. Relief is a strange thing, a foreign thing, but she accepts it the same way she’s been taught to accept her other confusing feelings, sitting and listening to her heart and letting her mind spin until it finds itself too tired to keep on spinning. Soft prayers and the sound of rain fill her ears, and when at last she’s got a handle on herself again, she turns to look at her savior. 

Link is still shaking, arms wrapped tightly about himself and eyes vacant. 

She reaches out, not with her hands, but with the thoughts in her head, like before, and this time there’s no sudden noise to disrupt it. Link’s thoughts are far more jumbled and spinning than even her own. 

‘-didn’t mean to, I didn’t! I- oh heavens, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t! I- he's dead, I killed him he died and I- I- oh heaven help! I didn’t want to! I didn’t-” he’s shaking, teeth gnawing his lip and eyes slipping closed. ‘We’re safe, we’re safe, we’re safe. I got Miss- Princess Zelda is safe and I got her here and I didn’t end up crying and I didn’t let her down. God, she must have been so scared, I know I was, let her be okay? It must have been awful being locked up in there! I- I couldn’t-” he’s shaking his head, hands plucking at is sleeves, at the blanket. Even with the rain, there’s still bits of blood stuck about his nails and the cuffs of his sleeves, and he seems acutely aware of that fact. His mind spins so much she’s dizzy just listening, hearing him worry first for her and then be washed over with regret at killing, only to them have his mind drift to death and watching people die and- 

Zelda is struck with the sudden realization that Link, unlike herself, is not accustomed to death. She’s seen it enough times that seeing a body only brings disgust and discomfort, but sadness does not wash over her to see an enemy laid low. She’d only thought to avoid the pooling blood as passing the slain knight outside of her cell, but Link is actively experiencing regret for ending said knight’s life. 

“Link? 

The Father turns at her words, but the boy does not, instead rocking slowly as too fast breaths escape him. 

“Link, dear boy, can you hear me?” It’s such a relief to release it to the Father and let him try to get the attention of her savior, the man turning fully towards the curled up little boy, one hand settling on his shoulder.  

Link does not respond. 

The father’s hand slips to rub across trembling shoudlers, steady, soothing motions as his voice, warm and soft, continues. “I do not know what brought you here at this hour, but you are safe here, my son. It is alright.” 

“M-Miss-” 

“The princess is alright.” The Father assures. “She is safe here as well, and no one will hurt her.” 

There’s a small sob from her companion and she can hear his thoughts, the raging swell of the becoming less and less an effort to hear, instead pushing back against her, pushing out and demanding release, pouring into her own mind with terrifying clarity. Pain, anguish, regret, fear, guilt, overwhelming sadness. The ever-present thought of “be strong for her, she looks so scared” makes something inside her own heart twist up and her own breath catch. 

“You got me out,” she murmurs, because speaking aloud seems almost wrong in the silence and peace of the otherwise empty church, “thank you.” 

Dull eyes fall, Link burying his face in his arms with a sob that has tears pricking at her own eyes all over again. Shre’s always been weak to tears, a fault that Grandfather has warned her must be controlled, lest it be used against her, but she can’t help but cry along with the boy beside her, even as the Father comforts them. 

Maybe she’s used to death, but he isn’t. More so though, he’s the one who swung the blade. He had killed a man, killed for her and soiled hands that no doubt had never caused harm further than a fight with friends or other such mischief that common children are allowed to get up to. Blood is new to him, terrifying still, not something he was raised watching be spilled, not something he expects. 

His clothes are soaked with it. Even though a potion was given to him, prompted slowly to his lips and choked down dumbly, he’s got his own blood and that of the fallen knights both spattered over him, staining his clothes. It’s not only theirs though, because her peeks into his thoughts grant her visions of a man, in the same dungeons as they had been, wounded and bleeding out, of this same boy, only moments before finding her, finding said man and pleading, fighting against the flow of blood, of tears on his face and hurt in his heart. He’d lost someone just before coming to her. He’d been blank even before killing, forcing himself onwards to help her, guided only by the final words of the dead man in the sewers. He’d wandered and been chased, had faught a foe three times his own size, been forced to thrust a sword that’s too big for him into the heart of a man after just seeing the effects of the same.  

Death is following this boy, biting at his heels tonight, and the more their thoughts bleed together in her head, the more the weight of what has happened hits her. 

He’s killed for her, and with the knights taken over and the only ones on her side being the Father and this boy, she might have to ask him to do it again. 

#alttp #a link to the past #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu fable #ketto writes #asks and answers #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #tw death #tw blood

[huramuna]

the calico bastard - chapter 1.

 aemond targaryen x strong bastard oc (series) part one | next part

summary: After his takeover of Harrenhal, Aemond encounters a dreamy-eyed, wistful bastard of House Strong, who piques his interest and changes the course of Westerosi history.

 warnings: smut (eventually), angst, canon typical violence, canon typical misogyny. will add more as I go through each chapter. 

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: alys rivers doesn’t exist in this universe, alysanne takes her place somewhat. a/n 2: this is my first fic, i got the courage to post it -- please be nice n' leave a like if this interests you!

wuthering heights - kate bush • leave me for dead - GAYLE

It was a chilly spring day when he arrived— atop his dragon that blotted out the sun. 

Harrenhal stood tall, foreboding against the horizon of the Riverlands. It was a tower with a known history of bloodshed and held many ghosts within its hallowed walls. 

Recently, it’d been a symbol of the Dance, a game of tug of war between the Rogue Prince and his One-Eyed nephew. 

Day after day with Daemon holding Harrenhal, Aemond taunted him by flying in the distance atop his mossy colored war dragon. 

Until, one night, Daemon acquiesced. He gathered his forces and left during the hour of the wolf, leaving the original denizens of the ancient stronghold behind.

It was all too fast that Aemond would seize the opportunity— and seize he did.

“Bring out every man with the blood of House Strong in his veins!” he cried out, his voice stringent and unwavering. His dragon grumbled in agreement just outside of the castle’s walls.

His soldiers ripped husbands from their wives, fathers from their children, and sons from their mothers. All were dragged out to the courtyard. 

A diminutive lady watched atop the castle ramparts, looking down at the scene. Alysanne Rivers— a bastard of House Strong, as far as she knew. 

She looked nothing like her Strong relatives, her hair being almost white in color, tumbling down in billowing curls, likely not been cut drastically since she was born, as it lingered past her bottom. The only reminiscences of the Strong bloodline was the errant streak of brown that ran down the front of her hair.

No two sides of her face were alike— one side had a violet eye with white lashes and a brown eyebrow, the other side having a brown eye with brown lashes and a white eyebrow. 

‘The Calico Bastard’ they tended to call her, mostly behind her back— but she didn’t mind. She was rather fond of calico cats.

As she pressed herself belly down on the ramparts, she observed the man below. Tall and chiseled, she could almost feel the hate and contempt eek from his being. It smelled of brimstone. 

Her brows perked as he reached to his face, ripping his eyepatch off, revealing the sapphire prosthetic underneath. He spoke a few words, too quietly for Alysanne to hear.

Then he unsheathed his sword. She watched with widened eyes as he brought down the blade upon the neck of the first in line— Ser Simon Strong, the oldened head of Harrenhal; now beheaded. 

She didn’t retch, but she felt a pit of darkness settle in her stomach. Alysanne had been raised as a bastard usually was; hardly at all. She was treated like a dormouse, her chambers being a closet near the kitchens, her bed a pile of old mattress material. 

Her Strong family had treated her with contempt, for the whiteness of her hair and her violet eye— she could only wish to hope that her mother, whomever she may be, never received such treatment. 

She’d heard not much about her mother over her eighteen years of life, and such questions would earn her a slap to the face. 

She never felt love for the Strong family, not even her father, Lyonel Strong, who had left her for many years of servitude on King Viserys’ council. 

The only one to not treat her like dirt beneath her feet was her supposed half-brother, Ser Harwin ‘Breakbones’ Strong. He was the only kind person she’d ever known.

But he was gone now. And apparently, so was the rest of House Strong.

She watched the heads roll into the mud with a detached gaze. No tears would be shed on account of her blood family’s deaths, but she hadn’t seen such ruthlessness firsthand. The only thing comparable was when she heard the screams of her father and brother dying in a fire all those years ago— but she didn’t see them. 

As the last man fell, Aemond glanced up at where she was laying. He leaned over and said something incoherent to a Dornishman next to him. 

Then she was grabbed. She kicked and growled like an impudent animal, snapping her teeth at the soldiers that drug her from the ramparts, down to the courtyard and before Aemond himself. They let her go, then, and let her adjust herself as Aemond approached her slowly.

The bastard girl glared up at him. And he stared back, his one violet eye wide with a fading madness. 

“You were watching,” he started, his voice laced with authority but also… curiosity. “What do you make of this?” he asked then, his arms resting behind his back. 

She swallowed nervously as he got a bit closer, to which she took two steps back. “I see the dragon has come to deliver its reckoning upon House Strong.” she bowed her head, averting her gaze as if it pained her to keep eye contact with him. 

Aemond’s brow rose. The way she spoke was odd, mysterious, dreamlike, even. Not unlike how his own maddened sister, Queen Helaena, spoke often. “Reckoning,” he repeated, “House Strong has defied the crown for too long.” His tone held a touch of disdain for their audacity to challenge him—an affront that demanded retribution in the form of blood spilled upon already stained grounds. 

He stepped closer to her, closing the distance between them. His presence so close was almost suffocating, scalding— like being too close to dragonfire. “And what do you make of this reckoning?” he pressed, searching her mismatched eyes for any recognition that she understood— it was more likely she didn’t. 

“You smell of ash and musk, dragon,” she murmured, stepping back once more. She did not like having people in such close proximity to her, it seemed, as her eyes flitted nervously around.

“A reckoning within your right; mere mice burn before a flaming beast.” she said finally, seemingly in a riddle or poem. Her voice was soft, lilting and song-like; not unpleasant upon the ears, but could be unnerving if anyone actually paid attention to the depths of her manic mutterings. 

Aemond’s face stayed neutral, his jaw clenched slightly, “And what do you make of this flaming beast? What lies beneath its exterior?” he continued. There was something about this fidgety bastard that intrigued him— perhaps it was how much she looked and acted like his sister. His heart clenched slightly at the thought. 

She let out a huff, as if annoyed by his incessant questioning. “A dragon needn’t concern itself with the opinions of mice or birds,” she grumbled. Her hands fiddled with the hem of her dress. “Are you going to kill me, dragon?” 

He stared at her for a moment longer, “Hm,” he seemed to mull it over in his mind, “Mayhaps not, for the moment. I am in need of a cupbearer, and you are capable enough.” 

Alysanne bristled slightly but said nothing. She just stared down at her feet— they were bare, stained with dirt and dust. 

“It seems she knows the power of holding her tongue. I know a few bastards who would do well to learn such a thing,” he added before turning his gaze upward towards two of his men, “Find some handmaidens or servants and have her scrubbed and dressed— I shan’t have my cupbearer looking like…” he appraised her dirty form up and down, “that.” 

The two soldiers nodded their heads, “Yes, prince.” they hummed in agreement, one going to grab Alysanne once more. 

He roughly pulled her, the coarse leather of his gloves grating against her skin. She hated the feeling, the sensation of being grabbed and strewn about like she was nothing but a sack of potatoes or a bale of hay.

Aemond spoke once more, his voice cutting like a whip, “And treat her with respect— she may be a bastard, but she is still a lady, hm?” he glared at the pair of men, his icy stare boring particularly chilly into the one who had so carelessly handled her. 

The soldier straightened up, releasing Alysanne from his grip— he left harsh red marks upon her skin, “Yes, my prince— apologies.” he dipped his head. 

Seeming satisfied with the answer, he turned around and began walking away. 

Alysanne observed him with a tenuous gaze. The way he walked was unnerving— a bit slow, but meticulous. Like a stalking predator. 

But he wasn’t just a mere predator, was he? He was the apex, the king of predators, hewn from brimstone and lava deep within the fissures of the Fourteen Flames. 

Alysanne had encountered the Targaryen house before— with Daemon having occupied Harrenhal just before. 

Daemon was an annoyance to her. She had a distaste for him, even if they did not speak. He would leer at her, looking as if he was undressing her with his eyes. 

But Aemond— he felt different. He didn’t leer, nor undress her with his eyes or look upon her as a commodity. 

No, he looked at her as if he wanted to remove her skin and see what lies underneath. To remove the outer layer of her being from the bone and tear out her heart— 

She snapped herself out of her reverie at the annoyed quip of one of the soldiers that were to escort her. 

“You deaf or something, bastard? Get moving,” the man grunted. 

A fitting noise for him, as he was nothing but a grunt, behest to a dragon. 

A dragon that interested Alysanne, for reasons she didn’t understand. There was an unconscious nagging sensation, deep in her gut when she looked at him. A feeling that elated her and made her feel sickly. 

She walked along, being escorted— escorted in her own home. She thought the idea silly, but let them do as they liked. They were stronger than she— let them have their moment of significance. 

Prince Aemond, as it turns out, left much of the staff in Harrenhal intact. Scared, but alive. 

Her mismatched gaze flitted around as they stepped into the Great Hall. The quivering, huddled bodies of servants, cooks and maids alike stood together. 

“Oh, girl, you lived,” the cook, Magga, cried. The older woman broke away from the conglomerate of clucking hens to go embrace Alysanne. 

She flinched slightly— girl, Magga had called her. She didn’t even call her by her name. She hardly ever did, and never with such… saccharine sweet reverie. 

She fought every instinct within her to run away, growl or do some other animalistic display of fear as Magga enveloped Alysanne in an all encompassing hug, practically suffocating her in her bosom. 

“We thought ye dead, girl,” Magga continued, “They said they were butcherin’ all of House Strong. They didn’t do anything to ya, did they?” 

Alysanne, once she was finally able to catch her breath, shook her head. She was still confused by Magga’s sudden maternal disposition. The cook always treated Alysanne as a nuisance, an extra mouth to feed that likely didn’t deserve it.

Witnessing death, she supposed, had a funny way of changing people. 

Alysanne would give the old cook a fortnight before she was back to calling her a bastard and trying to beat her bloody with a wooden spoon for pilfering honey cakes. 

The two guards that had led Alysanne in seemed unmoved by the reunion. One, apparently named Ser Daunton, spoke up, “Which of you is a maid? The prince has deemed that this…” he cleared his throat before speaking, “lady, requires to be bathed and clothed— befitting the station of royal cupbearer.” 

A few of the ladies spoke up. Flora and Beth stepped up— sisters from near Maidenpool. “Yes, ser,” Flora, the more talkative of the bunch, murmured, “We will… tend to Lady… Rivers,” she glanced over at her sister, who gave an imperceptible shrug of her shoulders. 

“Very good. I’m sure that the prince will have need of his… cupbearer sooner than later— so do not tarry.” Ser Daunton nodded, his gloved hand rested on the pommel of his sword before he turned and left, a nod of his head commanding his companion. 

As they walked out of the Great Hall, there was almost a physical sigh in the room. 

Flora and Beth walked to Alysanne, the latter finally speaking, “What in the name of the Seven did you do to be spared?” she hissed, pushing Alysanne to the back room while Flora began to heat the water for the bath. 

“I did nothing— the dragon, he—,” her voice was cut short as Beth pinched the sensitive skin of her arm.

“He is not an actual dragon, you dumb girl,” she admonished, “He is a prince— more so even than the one that was here before. At least address him with some modicum of respect. You greet him as ‘my prince’ or ‘your grace’— no more of this foolish dragon nonsense.” Beth grumbled, stripping Alysanne of her clothes. 

“But he… he is a dragon, he—,” 

SMACK.

A sharp hit to her cheek by Beth, “I don’t care if he has horns growing out of his bloody head, or breathes fire— I won’t have you jeopardize our lives by spewing hogwash,” she paused for a moment as she began pulling Alysanne’s hair out from the errant braids she had them in, “I… He is unstable, look what he did to Ser Simon— poor lord couldn’t even raise his sword before the prince took his head. He was just an old man, shameful,” Beth continued, her fingers attempting to unknot her curls, “But we shan’t expect better from a Kinslayer.” 

Alysanne winced, her scalp prickly and heated. She didn’t say anything else— she would only dig herself into a deeper hole; it already felt like she was six feet under. 

The sisters dragged the odd-eyed lady to the copper tub, now filled with hot water and began to scrub her raw. Her skin pulsed red before finally settling into its normal pallor. 

Her hair was run through with a brush, more than half a dozen times before pulling it back into one tight braid that swept to her posterior. 

They stuffed her into a modest dress— a blue woolen kirtle with a white undershirt, the sleeves long and puffy. 

Alysanne, who hated being touched, squirreled and wriggled all throughout their prodding. She wasn’t a skinny thing by any means— she had a soft core and curvy figure, which was accentuated in the corset they strapped her in. 

“Cruel lot of chickens,” she grumbled under her breath, eyeing the two sisters with ire. 

“Hm— didn’t know you had a pair o’ hips under those mops, Calico,” Flora hummed, “This might be what the prince wanted you for.” 

Alysanne felt her cheeks heat up at the thought— she had been the receiving end of looks of leer and lust a few times, but she staved them off. She had no interest in romance, or whatever her twisted ideology of it was. Nor was she interested in being rutted into like a barn animal. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied, her voice quiet, but with a tinge of sharpness, “A dra— a prince has no use for a calico bastard— mayhaps you should visit him instead of I, Flora?” 

SMACK. 

That earned her another red mark on her cheek— one from each of those shrewd sisters. 

“I’d knock you out if you weren’t meant to be somewhere, Calico. Now go, I’d imagine you’re being expected.” Flora snapped, leaving the room. 

Beth tagged along, giving Alysanne one last dirty look. 

She took a few deep breaths, smoothing down her dress. Once, twice, thrice. With as straight of a posture as she could give, she left the room as well, quickly swept up by Ser Daunton to be escorted to the prince. 

Into the dragon’s lair.

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #the calico bastard

[written-in-flowers]

He Knows...(AemondxReader)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Reader 

Word Count: 5k

Genre: Smut, slight angst 

Summary: Aemond knows about what you’d done in the tower, and expects his lovely bride to apologize to him for it however he wishes. 

Tags: jealous sex, mentions of cheating, first time sex, virgin!reader, slight dub-con, slight knife-play, ripping clothes off, thigh riding, degradation, slut-shaming, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral sex (m and f receiving/giving), multiple positions, facial/cumming on body, possessiveness. 

****

"Why him?"

You walked into your quarters to find Aemond sitting by your fire. Leaned back in the chair, he sat with his arms completely over the rests until his hands touched the curves. Any lingering arousal Aegon left inside you slowly began vanishing at the sight of Aemond. The firelight accentuated his features and his hair much more in the dark. You gazed around to find he was the only person there. The door behind you clicked as the guard locked the door. A shiver of panic ran through your body and settled in your stomach. You looked back over to Aemond by the fire. His one cold eye stared into the flames, never tearing away once. It did not appear wet or teary. It was cold. Stone. Cold. 

"My prince, this is…it's quite late," you excused nervously. 

"Why him?" He repeated his question, not looking at you. 

"What do you mean, Your Grace?"

"Do you play me for a fool?" He seethed, head turning but not meeting your eyes. "Why did you pick him? Of all the men in this city, you chose him."

You gulped. How could he have known? You and Aegon had been alone. "I…Aemond, I can explain."

"What is there to explain?"

"It…it happened out of nowhere," you began. "We were talking, and then we…Aemond, it didn't mean anything."

"Doesn't matter that it didn't mean anything. You still did it." You heard the hurt escape for a moment, but only a moment. Aemond stood up, "I saw you with him."

Your eyes widened, "What?"

"I saw you two together. You thought you two were the only ones who knew about that tower? I went up there when one of the servants said they saw you headed that way, and…and I heard you…"

"Aemond," you said his name softly, walking towards him, "I'm sorry-"

"-He's married to my sister-"

"-Yes, I know-"

"-And you're betrothed to me-"

"-Yes, I am-"

"-Do you suffer no shame? Any at all? Letting a fool like my brother put his hands all over you like some kind of common whore."

You gasped at the last words, but said nothing. You didn't dare speak, not with him so angry. He stood up straight, legs apart and arms at his sides. A soldier. That’s what he’s always been in comparison to Aegon, the shorter brother who didn’t care. You took in his long blond hair, and the leather eyepatch he wore. A glittering sapphire sat in the empty socket, hidden by his eyepatch. It scared you a bit more. You rarely ever saw him this upset. He was usually so calm and gentle with you; open and honest about his feelings for you. Yet, right now you saw the person everyone else worried about seeing. 

"What does he have that I don't? Because he's the older brother? Because he'll be the king one day and you wish to be his mistress?" He stepped closer to you, and pulled off his eyepatch. Underneath, you saw the sapphire surrounded by scarred tissue that went from his forehead to his cheek. A childhood accident had cost him his eye, and severely impaired him. "Because he’s whole and I’m not?” 

"No, Aemond. Not at all. You know that doesn’t bother me; it never did.”

“Then why?” he asked. 

“I…I truly do not know. He's…different from you. You're gentle and kind; clever and intelligent and everything a woman should want, but Aegon…He isn't always so…chivalrous. He’s exciting."

"So, I'm too nice?" He snorted a laugh, "You want a man that's disrespectful towards you?" He came closer, walking around the sofa, his one eye set on you. "If that is what you wished, my lady, you only had to say so." 

When he approached you, your feet moved backwards until you hit the door behind you. Your heart hammered in your chest as he closed in on you. Would he hit you? Would he hurt you? You saw the anger slowly turning into coldness again. He never stayed so close to you before. Legs squeezed together, you recalled the longing Aegon hadn’t finished and how dirty you felt afterwards. Aemond wouldn’t have left. He would’ve kept going until you were satisfied. He put both his hands on either side of you, boxing you in, and lowered his lips to your ear. 

"Unlike my brother, Y/N, I'm not as obvious about my appetite for you," he said, soft and low in your ear. "I wanted to wait. I wanted to let it build up until our wedding night." He ghosted his lips over the rim of your ear, making you shudder from the warm breath on your neck. Instantly, your arousal returned. "But, it seems," he slipped his hand onto the skirt of your gown and pressed between your thighs, causing you to gasp, "You didn’t feel the same."

"A-Aemond," you stammered, gulping thickly as his fingers massaged your sex through several layers of clothes, "I…I'm…"

"Sorry? Ashamed? Humiliated?" He suggested, and then rubbed your center harder, "Aroused?” he chuckled when he heard you gasp again. “I sense that my brother didn’t finish what he started with you. I suppose I’m going to have to, won’t I?” 

“I…I…”

“You have been very naughty,” he growled into your ear, rubbing you in flat circles, “I think you need to be punished."

"What?"

He stopped his rubbing and hooked his hands on your neckline. With no effort at all, he tore the front of your garment in two. Your bodice exposed, you gazed up at him with shock. “Where did he put it?” he asked, starting to remove his clothes. 

“Wha-what?”

“His cock. Where did the swine put it?” 

He nearly tore his doublet and jerkin from his body, tossing them aside until he was down to his shirt. You could see his pale, slim body underneath. Years of training and exercise sculpted Aemond into a god, unlike his body who was softer. He’d have no problem throwing you around or pinning you down. This excited you more. 

“Answer me,” he demanded, peeling off his shirt.

“He didn’t put it anywhere,” you told him truthfully. “We only touched and kissed. That’s all.”

“I find that difficult to believe.” He reached down to his belt where he kept his dagger holstered for use. You gulped and pressed into the wall like you could disappear into the wood. You gave a light knock, but nobody answered. He must’ve sent the guard away. He came back over to you, grabbing the middle of your bodice and sliced his knife through it easily. The blade did not touch you at all, but it did ruin a perfectly good corset. “My brother isn’t known for his restraint.” 

He took the collar of your undergown and used his dagger to make a cut in it before ripping it with his hands. His big, strong hands that could bring pleasure or pain. Aemond quickly palmed both your breasts, causing you to bite your bottom lip as pressed onto your nipples. He greedily kissed the tops of them, going up your chest to the base of your throat. He parted your thighs with his leg, so your sex sat right against it. Your lips crashed into his, tongues colliding together as he grinded his thigh into you. 

“He can barely keep his hands off his serving girls,” he said, kissing at your breasts again, “You know what he does to them, don’t you? The things he does to them before tossing them from his company? Do you wish to be one of them one day?” you squealed when he ripped the rest of your gown off, leaving you in nothing but your stockings and shoes. His gaze drank up your naked body. He pinned your arms to the wall, and he continued attacking your nipples. You gyrated on his thigh, the cloth of his breeches causing a delightful friction against your supple skin. His hard muscles flexed underneath you, and you heard him say, “You truly have no shame, do you? You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“It feels good,” you said meekly. 

“My brother doesn’t satisfy you enough?” he asked, holding your jaw in his hand as he kissed you again. “Or are you truly such a whore that your thirst is never quenched?”

“He didn’t let me finish.”

“Good,” he smirked into the next kiss, “Then you’re warmed up for me.” 

“Aemond-”

“-Silence!” he spanked your bottom harshly, bringing on a sliver of pain and pleasure.

You bit your bottom lip when you felt his hand run over your bottom. He slipped underneath to your sex, where he massaged a few moments before going back up. Then, he made you arch your back until your ass stuck out. You never felt so exposed before; so exposed and vulnerable to him. Clenching your hands into fists, you rested against the door as Aemond examined your body. 

“I’ve tried being a gentleman with you,” he said, “I have thought of taking your maidenhead every night since you’ve arrived, but no. My mother raised me to be a better man than that,” he spanked you again, the sudden shock catching you by surprise. “I didn’t want to sink to my brother’s level and be inappropriate with you. You’re a lady. My lady. But, it appears,” he smacked both cheeks in quick swats, “You don’t want to be treated like a lady.” The stinging pain remained on your skin even when he smoothed his hand over it. “I loved you, Y/N. I loved you more than the air in my lungs. I would do anything for you. I’d walk through fire for you; crawl on hands and knees through glass for you. I’d kill every single person who ever dared hurt you. But still, you chose to carry on with my brother. My fucking brother. My sleazy” SPANK! “Greasy” SPANK! “Pathetic excuse of a man, older brother.” SPANK, SPANK, SPANK! 

You heard the pain behind his words, fueling the rage inside him. Tears welled in your eyes from the hard hits, causing you to tremble while still feeling aroused. Hooking his fingers around your restraint, he pulled you from the wall and walked you over to the sofas nearby. You didn’t deserve the comfort of his bed. He took a seat on the sofa and made you straddle his thigh again. You looked to see him shirtless in his breeches and boots. A large bulge grew in his pants, much more noticeable than Aegon’s ever could be. Your pussy throbbed at the sight of him. Without a word, Aemond took hold of your hips and guided you on his thigh. It mesmerized you. You never minded it; not a single bit. He grabbed your throat, but it did not hurt. If anything, the touch remained gentle and controlled. 

“Keep going,” he grunted, “Feel my thigh underneath your wet cunt; get that pussy warmed up again for me.” 

Whimpering, you began rocking on his leg. You could feel the rough fabric of his pants brush on your bare sex; your clit dragging over it in each movement. You did your best to withhold your noises. This amused Aemond, who bent down to begin sucking on your nipples again. The extra dose of satisfaction caused you to whine like a dog in heat. Hands grabbing onto his shoulders, you focused on the hard muscle underneath you. It flexed somewhat when you ground your hips into it. Your tryst with Aegon still left you wet, but it was Aemond’s tongue that rekindled the flames inside you. 

“Still sensitive, I see,” he growled, swirling his tongue over one of your nipples “Good. Less work for me then.”

“Aemond…please…”

“Hush,” he spanked you again. “You don’t get to speak unless spoken to, understand?”

“Yes, my prince,” you replied. 

“Good.”

He kissed you deeply. Not like he had when he stole a kiss, but something more passionate and heated. You moaned into his mouth when his tongue slipped over yours. Aegon had ale on his lips; Aemond had strawberries. His favorite. Your favorite too. Occasionally, he’d pinch a nipple and put his fingers underneath to check your wetness, but continued kissing you. Whenever you tried to pull away to breathe, he brought you back to him. The kiss made you buck your hips on him faster. The surge of arousal inside you tightened into a ball as you continued. Aemond traced his hand across your jaw before cupping your chin; then he slid his thumb into your mouth. Knowing exactly what he wanted, you sucked on the digit running over your tongue. He barely groaned when he felt your knee brushing onto his bulge. It felt hard; harder than Aegon’s had been. He chuckled when you began trembling in his lap. 

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, smearing his wet thumb on your lips and resting on your lower lip. “You’re not allowed to finish yet. You hold that back. Your prince demands it.” 

The tight feeling in your lower region grew the longer you grinded on him. But, you forced yourself to keep it from coming. Your head felt slightly dizzy, but this didn’t concern Aemond. Undoing his breeches, you finally saw his dick. Longer than Aegon’s, the tip became flushed red and the shaft stiff as a board. He pulled your other leg over his lap until your hips met. You gasped from the hardness pressed to your sensitive sex. It became hypersensitive to his cock, sending sparks across your body. 

“Where did he put it? Was his cock in here? Did he take what’s meant to be mine?” he asked, continuing to hump your slick sex. 

“I…I told you…” your eyes fell shut as pleasure started overtaking you again. You’d never felt anything like it before. “He-He-He didn’t put it in me…”

“You’re telling me,” he stopped grinding you, chuckling when he heard you whine, “That he had this sweet, slutty pussy in his hand and didn’t stick his cock in it?”

“I wouldn’t let him,” you admitted, kneeling up to feel his tip drag over your clit. He gripped your thighs tightly, and held you in place to stop you. “I-I told him not to…My prince, please. It hurts.”

“You should have thought of that before you decided to let my brother touch you. Now, I’m going to give you what he couldn't give you over and over and over again until you’re begging me to stop,” he slapped your ass again when you didn’t answer. “Understand me, my lady?”

“Yes, my prince,” you whimpered. “I understand.”

“Good.” 

He reached between the both of you and started wagging his tip over your pussy. The torturous feeling pushed you closer to the edge again, and this time you couldn’t hold it back. Your orgasm nearly blinded you; you shuddered and wriggled on top of him. Your eyes fell shut, your jaw dropping, and your hands squeezing the back of the small couch. You should feel ashamed being so easy, but you enjoyed it so much and Aemond made it feel so good. 

“I’m surprised at you, my lady,” he breathed into your ear, still grinding into you, “I never knew you were this sensitive.”

“I’m sorry, my prince, if that displeases you.”

“Not at all,” he assured you, kissing your neck softly, “I like it.” He laid you down on the couch, and settled between your legs. “I’m taking this today,” he trailed his thumb over your wet sex, spreading your slick across each of the lips, “It’s mine and I won’t let my brother have it.”

“My prince…” you breathed softly, jerking when he began swirling his finger around your clit again. “We’re supposed to wait…”

“I’m tired of waiting,” he said, looked back down at your sex, “I want it. You let Aegon see and touch it. Why not me?” 

He slipped the single digit into your sex, causing your body to instantly spread as much as you could. Aemond's eye examined you closely while he teased you. Your cheeks grew hot from the attention. You’d never done this before. Your mother and Septa never told you about any of this. They didn’t say it’d feel this good or that you can be undone with only a few simple touches. Aemond must’ve noticed this and laughed softly. 

“You’d let my brother violate you,” he said, kissing your inner thighs and nipping at the skin there, “But when it comes to me, your betrothed, the man who’s cummed every night thinking about your sweet body,” he kissed closer to your center, “You’re suddenly shy.” 

“He didn’t do it like this,” you squeaked when he kissed right over one lip. “It didn’t feel this good.”

“I’m sure it didn’t.” 

You bit down on one of your fingers, feeling his finger penetrate you completely. His fingertips brushed a spot inside you that instantly made your eyes roll back. You gripped the cushion under you for support as you pushed into his hand. It took a few more moments before you felt something else brush into your sex…and it excited you. He chuckled when you started grinding into his tongue. He used the flat part of it on your clit while he fingered you. 

“No, no, no,” he said against your pussy, his warm breath ghosting over it as he continued fingering you, “Don’t hold back. Cum again for me.” 

“Aemond, Aemond,” you called to him, “Is it…Is it supposed to feel like this?”

“Like what, Petal?” 

“As if I'm going crazy," you whimpered, his hand and tongue still working you. "As if I might explode from…from…"

Aemond anticipated your next orgasm, and flicked your sex with his tongue and fucked you with his fingers. You felt the tips prodding that spot once more. How did he get so good at this? You clawed at the cushion as another shaky climax came, making you writhe underneath him. Your hips tried moving away from the tongue torturing your pussy, but Aemond kept you planted on the couch. He lifted your thighs to your stomach, and continued. You whined and wriggled from him, though to no avail.

“Look at you," he moaned, licking up the juices on your thighs, "All messy and dirty. I bet my brother didn't do this to you, did he? Hm? Did he, Petal?"

'Petal', the pet name he'd given you. He started calling you that after he'd picked a fallen flower petal from your hair. He told you it felt as soft as you did. You liked it. Hearing him say it in his soft voice, while he stood close to you, made you feel special. 

"No, my prince," you shook your head. You could feel the exhaustion beginning to hit your body. You remained limp against the pillows as Aemond slid off the sofa and pulled down his pants completely. Your mouth fell at the length of him springing up at you. "I didn't taste him either," you told him, taking it in your hand, "He came in my hand. Will you come in my hand, my prince?"

"I'll cum somewhere even better. Stick out your tongue."

You stuck out your tongue for him, and let him slide into your mouth. Not sure what to do, you allowed Aemond to guide you. It tasted a lot different than you thought it would; the small drops of precum tasted salty, but not enough to disgust you. You liked how heavy it felt on your tongue, and the veins running over it every time he pushed forward. His girth stretched your mouth enough that you needed to accommodate it a bit better, and his tip continuously pushed towards your throat, causing you to gag. 

“Play with your pussy,” he sighed, pushing hair back to keep it from your face, “Keep it nice and sensitive for 

.”

Placing your hand between your legs, you tentatively rubbed yourself like he’d asked. The feeling of his dick in your mouth made you wonder what his cock would feel like. Aemond gazed over your body, seeing you tense and shudder at your own touch. It was better than anything his fantasies could dream up. You became more confident in your sucking the longer he guided you; you spread yourself further, giving your hand a better angle to tease while he fucked your mouth. You tried your best to withhold any more orgasms until he entered you, but Aemond noticed the signs right away. 

“Must I tell you when to cum?” He pulled his cock out so you could kiss his tip. “Will you only finish if I tell you to?”

“Yes, my prince.”

The answer alone made him moan. He left your side, and lifted your legs until you nearly folded in half. A new level of excitement came when you felt the weight of him against your pussy. You quietly begged him to go inside, especially when he prodded your tight entrance with his tip. You did your best to hold back your climax, but he smoothed over all the right spots, making you cry underneath him. The tightness built inside your clit the most, where you’d become super sensitive to his touches. Aemond said nothing as he finally gave into your wishes and filled you. You said his name with a loud cry of relief at his thickness finally pulling you apart. You clutched the sides of the seat. What you loved most were his moans. Low and deep, he kept them in soft grunts to avoid you hearing them. You grabbed his forearm on the back of the sofa and pushed against his cock. 

“Aren’t I making you feel good, my prince?” you asked, wincing as he went further inside you. “Isn’t my tight pussy making you feel good?”

“Fuck yes, it is,” he breathed, head tilting forward as he looked between you both. He watched his cock disappear inside you in tender strokes, “Yes, it is.”

“Should I be doing more?” you asked innocently, “I’m a virgin, my prince. I don’t know what to do.” Not a complete lie. You said this as you grinded into his cock. “Show me what to do. I wish to pleasure you too.”

“Come here then.” 

He lifted you from the couch and brought you back into his lap. You immediately knew what he wanted. Holding onto his strong shoulders, his length filled you completely, making you gasp when it touched deep in you. Aemond started kissing along your shoulder, his hands running down your back to your ass while he helped you ride him. You grasped onto the ends of his white blond hair, tugging it slightly to make him growl into your neck. 

still grunted and mumbled his pleasure. This wasn’t enough for you. You began going faster, panting and moaning in his ear as you knew he’d want. Soon, your prince began unraveling in your arms. His head fell back when you started whirling your hips on him, keeping him deep inside while you did it. 

“Am I doing well, Your Grace?”

“Yes,” he said, lifting his head to look at you, “Yes, you are, Petal. Don’t stop. I want to make you cum again.”

You moaned even louder when his thumb went back to attacking your clitoris. You started bouncing on him in time with it, another wave of pleasure starting to wash over you. It came harder than any of the ones before. It drowned out the exhaustion in your body, and overcame all rational sense. You only wanted one thing at that moment, and you planned to get it. Breasts in his face, Aemond started licking and sucking on your nipples again which heightened your orgasm. 

“Where would you like to cum, my prince?” you asked breathily, seeing his body start to contract and tense underneath you. His muscles flexed around you, and he suddenly became more needy, whimpering and whining for you. “On my breasts? My stomach? My mouth?” you kissed his neck and breathed in his ear, “Inside me?”

“No, not inside,” he said, spanking and grabbing your ass, “That’s for our wedding…wedding night. Get off.” 

You slid him out of you, and right away streaks of white started shooting from his red head. You squealed at his cum decorating your stomach and breasts. You actually enjoyed the feeling of the hot semen on your skin, being claimed by your handsome prince. It was different from Aegon, who’s remains disgusted you earlier. You watched Aemond shake, and shudder, his body hunching forward as he finally let out his moans and groans into the air. He looked beautiful, like a porcelain god made just for you. Cheeks flushed red and hair sticking to his forehead, you couldn’t help wanting to paint him this way. You’d go to your canvas right now, and paint it just to save the moment forever. You rested against him, all the tension in your body causing you to lean forward against him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked you, kissing your cheek. “It doesn’t hurt too much, does it?”

“It…It does hurt a bit,” you admitted, the pain and soreness in your body became more obvious now. You winced as you climbed off his chest, sweaty and dirty from his love making. You looked down, “I thought there’d be more blood…”

“Are you saddened by that?” he laughed, running his hand through his hair. “That’s what I was trying to avoid, Petal.”

“No, I’m not sad. I only expected our first time to be…more…”

“Bloody? Painful?”

“My sister said it would be,” you told him, as you watched him grab a cloth he’d kept nearby on a table. “She said on her wedding night that it hurt a lot, and I should prepare myself for that.”

“That’s because your sister married Harrold Baratheon, and he’s a brute,” he smiled before kissing your lips. “I’d never hurt you purposefully, my love. I wanted you to enjoy it.”

Your heart then sank. You remembered why this happened in the first place. He gently wiped his cum from you before you pulled him in for a kiss. Long, deep and passionate, you put every word you couldn’t say into it. Your shame and guilt at what you’d done; how you wished you’d never done it; how you never wanted to hurt him, and that you’d spend every day apologizing for that one moment of weakness. 

“Come to bed with me,” he said, holding you in his arms, “I’ll have the maid draw a warm bath for you.”

“I’m sorry, Aemond,” you told him, ignoring what he’d told you and kissing him once again. “Truthfully. I was an idiot. I was weak and gave into something I shouldn’t. I regret every single second of it.” 

He paused over your face. He pecked your lips, then your 

, “Let’s not dwell on it, Petal. I know it was not entirely you’re doing. Let me take care of you, and then perhaps…” he smirked, pecking your shoulder, “We can go a second time.”

“A second time?” you giggled, a bit shocked. 

“And a third,” he added, “Maybe a fourth if we’re not too tired. You’re mine, and I want to enjoy you as much as possible.”

His words made you smile, and you let him carry you over to the bed nearby, where you melted into the mattress while he called for a bath. The handmaiden, a young girl, stared at you both shocked when she came in to see you both naked on the bed. She’d tell everyone for sure. She’d talk and then the whole castle would know the prince deflowered his bride before their wedding day. Then the queen will know. Then the king. You didn’t care. Aemond still wanted to marry you, and that was what you cared about. 

****

He’ll admit hearing you’d been with Aegon hurt him. It hurt much deeper than he’d dare tell you out loud. He’d gotten used to Aegon taking things that were his: toys, food, armor, weapons…he never thought it’d be something so precious to him. Aemond grew to love you over the time you’d been betrothed. You became his one fantasy, the one thing in his life he knew he wanted. For Aegon to come and touch what was his made his blood boil. He’d taken your maidenhead. He’d claimed you and made you his. He spoiled you for any other man who might’ve desired you before; if you ended up with a child, it was more reason to speed up the wedding. 

You’d paid for your transgression until your body gave out and became a puddle. Now, it was Aegon’s turn. 

“Aegon!”

His brother sat in the small hall with a few squires, sharing jokes and tales over ale. Aegon immediately whipped his head around to see his brother marching towards him, and fear filled his eyes. Nearly falling off the bench, he scrambled away from Aemond right as he came within a few feet of him. Aemond rushed after him until he tackled him halfway down the hall. The two brothers struggled, wrestling around on the stone floor. Hands on Aegon’s throat, Aegon’s arm against his own, his brother spoke first. 

“She told you, didn’t she?” he asked. 

“I heard you. I was in the tower when you touched her,” he replied. 

“Then, then you know she wanted it too-”

“-You shouldn’t have touched her in the first place!” he tightened his grip on Aegon’s throat. He had half a mind to strangle him. “Even if she begged you, you shouldn’t have done it! She’s my wife, you prick!”

“You’re only betrothed! It’s not like I put it in her! She’s still a virgin!” he wrestled himself free, crawling away before Aemond grabbed his leg to pull him back across the ground. He managed to grapple Aegon until his arm was behind his back on the ground. His face in the dirt floor, he cried out, “Aemond! Aemond, no!”

“Touch my wife again, Brother,” he said, a threat laced in his tone as he raised Aegon’s hand further up his back, “And I will save the Stranger the trouble and take your life myself, get it?”

“Yes, yes, let me go! Let me go!”

Aemond released him, and stood up. “She’s just as guilty as me,” Aegon spat at him, rolling his aching shoulder. “She met me there.”

“She’s already apologized to me,” he smirked, “Repeatedly.”

The suggestion made his brother smile, “Oh, has she? What depraved things did you make your blushing bride do?”

“Nothing I’d ever tell you about.” 

He kicked Aegon’s leg, then walked out of the hall. Perhaps you were in the godswood, he wondered. It was a lovely day. The both of you could spend time outside before dinner; you could read to him or play your lute. He’d love to see you. Any excuse to see and feel you again. Aemond became positively, absolutely addicted to you, and only he’d know how good you feel. You were his, after all. 

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x yn #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd drabbles #hotd imagines #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic

[separatist-apologist]

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Summary: Gwyneth Berdara wants nothing more than to return home and exact revenge on the courtiers who hurt her and killed her sister. Exiled to a distant temple, Gwyn finds herself at the mercy of a mysterious stranger offering to escort her home on orders from her eldest brother and king of the realm.

Unraveling the secrets of the strange soldier will prove more deadly than Gwyn could ever have imagined, setting into motion events that began nearly five hundred years before.

Happy @gwynrielweeksofficial!

TW for mentions of past sexual assault

Read on Ao3 | Chapter 1

Gwyn found herself seated before Merrill while Clotho stood just behind. It was another gloomy day, threatening rain which made the study seem darker by comparison. Merrill had books stacked so high they created walls within the four walls of her office and everything was claustrophobic. Gwyn knew she wasn’t supposed to fidget—both princesses and priestesses were expected to have a perfectly rigid spine. 

Merrill was dragging this meeting out, watching Gwyn with that haughty suspicion she was all too familiar with. Eris could have picked her for a wife, Gwyn thought privately. They shared so much in common already. Gwyn could only imagine who he’d selected, certain it was some nightmare from the south looking to enhance her fathers power while tormenting the court.

Gwyn was going to beg her brother to let her take up residence at the sea palace. She’d put on her bravest, sunniest face, dance and smile and laugh, and then at the end of the festivities, swear she barely thought of Catrin at all and could she please spend a few months looking at the sea?

Maybe he’d be too busy trying to put babies in his new wife to care what she did. Gwyn very much doubted her other brothers had strong opinions on where she was or what she did. But she’d make sure they saw her, too. Smiling–happy. Alive, which was more than Catrin could say. 

It wouldn’t matter if either of those things were lies. 

As if they could tell the difference.

“Gwyneth,” Merril began, eyes focused wholly on Gwyn. The priestess was a beautiful woman—young, too, for someone so revered. It annoyed Gwyn that Merrill referred to her as Gwyneth—even Eris didn’t bother. Neither had their father, who had always called her princess in that mocking, sneering way of his. 

Gwyn could have demanded Merrill address her properly. Could have made the priestess bow so low her nose scraped the stone floor beneath them. It was tempting and yet wrong all at the same time. Gwyn settled for fidgeting, holding Merrill’s gaze and daring her to say something about it. 

“Your brother has released you from your service here,” Merrill continued, eyes narrowing. “You will leave with the knight tomorrow. We’ve packed you a few provisions but I wanted to discuss the books in your bedroom.”

Gwyn forced herself to maintain eye contact. “What books?”

Clotho offered up a wordless sigh, her fingers slowly moving through the air. Gwyn had never dared to ask what had happened to Clotho or why she didn’t speak. If it was natural or self-imposed, Gwyn couldn’t say. She wouldn’t have cared had it not been for those fingers of hers. They’d been purposefully broken by someone and it didn’t look as if they’d ever properly healed.

Merrill drummed her own fingers against the desk, clearly annoyed and unable to do much but wait.

Don’t leave as angry as you came in, Gwyn. 

“Who says I’m angry?” Gwyn replied, adopting her sweetest voice. Clotho leveled a stare, not needing a word to call Gwyn a liar. 

“Bring the books back before you go,” Merrill added snappishly. “They are not for you or the palace.”

“Everything in Ellesmere belongs to the king,” Gwyn replied, though this wasn’t a battle she wanted to fight. She knew she’d bring them back and Merrill must have, too, because she reclined back in her chair, a queen holding court before her subjects. Gwyn bristled but rose to her feet and inclined her head, making a mockery of the whole thing.

At least she could have the last word. 

There was no chance Merrill didn’t write Eris ahead of time and give him her perspective of Gwyn’s time at the temple. Eris would be so irritated with her. What, she wondered, would his knight tell her brother, too? If she was difficult and unladylike, would that be held against her? If she had a nightmare, if she couldn’t keep a smile plastered to her face? 

Gwyn made her way out to the vegetable garden, ignoring several hens pecking at the soil so she could plop onto a wooden bench. Only there, beneath that moody, gray sky, did she dare vocalize some of her frustration with a long, quiet scream. 

No one ever came out here. It was reasonable to assume she was alone. But there he was, appearing seemingly out of the mist with a cocked head and curious eyes. “Heard the good news, did you?”

Gwyn toward the heavens. What have I done to displease you? “I still have a day before I’m remanded into your company,” she replied, unable to even pretend she was excited. 

The soldier—Azriel—sat beside her, though he kept a respectable distance between them. “You’re the only person willing to speak to me.”

“The priestesses aren’t keen on men,” Gwyn replied, glancing over at him. He was too beautiful to be trustworthy, besides. It set her on edge, too—made her nervous though she was a princess and he was practically no one at all. Why should he make her nervous? He was injured if his limp was any indication and the cut across his throat was stark in comparison to the golden brown of skin. Gwyn would have bet his ribs were all taped up still and if she needed to, she could just outrun him. 

Though he’d given her no reason to distrust him, Gwyn felt she had to be careful. 

“I’ve noticed,” he replied, settling back to look up at the sky. “Your head priestess has refused my offers to sleep outside.”

“I don’t think that would help,” Gwyn admitted, a new thought coming to her. “Will it be just you and me on the road?”

He cut a glance in her direction. “Yes.”

Two options presented themselves, each offering a different, potent form of anxiety. Gwyn could refuse to spend another minute in this man's presence and stay at the convent, no longer her brother's ward but as an actual priestess. She’d have to give up the title that had protected her and the station she’d always intended to fall back on. There would be no Sea Palace, no visiting Catrin’s grave, no more of her brothers or the life she’d once known.

And she’d likely lose her position in the library. That seemed the most offensive to Gwyn.

But if she went with him, she risked violence. He was a stranger with a pretty face and Gwyn didn’t trust men. Even low born men felt they were owed something from women. Alone, on the road…who could stop him if he decided to take more than she was offering? 

He didn’t seem interested in her internal warring, or at the very least, didn’t recognize what was happening. Having delivered the news, Azriel rose to his feet and began making his way further from the temple, unleashed and allowed. He didn’t look back, nor did he return to her long after the fog had consumed him. 

What would Catrin do, she wondered? 

Catrin would go home. She’d get out of this nightmare even if she had to claw her way out, and if Azriel was the only way to do it, Catrin was grit her teeth and figure it out. Gwyn could still boss him around, she reasoned. Could force him to stay on main roads, to rent rooms in taverns, to travel only during daylight. Gwyn had never quite managed the haughty, imperious nature of her siblings but perhaps she could try. 

Maybe she could channel a little of Eris’s attitude just this once if it meant freedom. 

At least, that’s what Gwyn told herself. Still, she barely slept that night, tossing and turning as she played out a million terrible scenarios and how she might react. Eris wouldn’t send someone cruel, would he? 

No, not intentionally—but Eris also wouldn’t concern himself with whether Gwyn felt safe so much as he would concern himself with who could get her home the quickest. Clearly it was this man who, despite provoking the ire of some unknown assailant, had all but crawled to the temple and was apparently ready to go a mere day later. 

Gwyn doubted Eris paid enough for that kind of loyalty. And still she packed up her things with a faint buzzing of excitement. She was leaving. Gods, but Gwyn would never have to see this place again, this prison dressed up as a religious institution. And the gods willing, she’d be home in a matter of days without any intention or returning.

Surely Eris could hand over the estate by the sea and allow her to have her own household. Gwyn would have to work on appearing chasetend, of course—like she’d learned some grand lesson and was now ready to be a member of their household. 

It was the happiest she’d been since Catrin died. The entire mood of the temple was upbeat, something that barely wounded her. They were all excited to see her go, forgetting that once she was no longer there, they’d have to pick a new target for their ire. Absently, Gwyn wondered which of them it would be. Who would become the new scapegoat for everyone's dissatisfaction? Would they realize the problem had never been with her?

Doubtful. 

The only person Gwyn felt compelled to truly say goodbye to was Clotho. She didn’t hate Clotho so much as she hated that Clotho upheld the rules her brother had obviously set in place. Standing before her in the library, a bag slung over her shoulder, Gwyn heard herself saying, “I’m sorry I was so difficult.” Clotho’s fingers were quick with a response. You were never difficult, Gwyneth. I hope you find healing, wherever you go.

Gwyn choked down the urge to cry, nodding her head and keeping her face impassive. “I appreciate that.”

There was nothing else. Azriel was waiting outside by the barn with leads to two horses looped around a gloved hand. Merril led Gwyn out, snapping out her displeasure over Azriel’s presence and how Gwyn had made a mess of her routine, her research—everything. It was only when they were nearly to the courtyard that Merril offered Gwyn any kindness at all.

“For you,” she said, pulling a small, pale blue box from beneath her cloak. “Don’t let him know you have it.” Gwyn looked up at the woman who could have been her mentor with surprise. There, nestled among soft velvet, lay a silver hilted dagger that curved in a wickedly lethal point. A flash of recognition passed between the two of them, gone so fast Gwyn blinked and nearly missed it. But there it was—two souls who, on some level, knew what kind of danger might be waiting for Gwyn.

And despite Merril’s dislike of her, she was seemingly unwilling to let Gwyn risk it all again without some kind of aid. Gwyn took it, unsure where she could even hide it and decided on her bag for the moment until she found something better. It would slice right through her pockets which, while an amusing image, was not the kind of stealth she was aiming for. 

“Thank you,” Gwyn murmured but Merril had already turned, her job clearly done. That was all Gwyn was ever going to get and so, with a breath to keep herself from hurtling a bunch of unfair, hurtful accusations at the retreating priestesses back, Gwyn turned for the world outside.

It was another moody, miserable day made moodier still by Azriel’s flat expression. Gone were his casual, comfortable clothes, replaced by thick, black armored leather that looked frankly uncomfortable. Two lethal blades were curved behind his shoulders and a dagger was strapped to his thigh.

Where was his red cape, she wondered? That was the mark of all of Eris’s men, the red cape with the golden clasp marking the sunlight insignia of their family. Gwyn marched up to him intending to demand to know but Azriel cut her off. “No one can know we’re traveling, princess.”

Ass.

“Why not?” she demanded, yanking the reins of the one of the midnight black horses from his hands. Azriel let her, his eyes hot against her back. 

“There is one of me and one of you,” was his level, near cold response. “I’d rather not find out what the King will do if I let his sister die on the road.”

“I doubt he’d care at all,” Gwyn said without thinking, the words slipping bitterly from her lips. Azriel glanced up at her, seated now in the well-oiled saddle, a question lingering in his gaze.

Wisely, he kept it to himself and instead swung a powerful leg over his own horse, the movement effortlessly graceful and strangely fluid. Hardly a common soldier, then, though not an elite warrior, either. He was something else, something she didn’t have any knowledge of.

That was likely for the best, all things considered.

“We’ll travel until nightfall,” Azriel began, digging his heels into the flank of his beast. Her own followed of its own accord, as though it had been given some silent command. Gwyn knew how to ride a horse—had been taught as a girl, like all good royals. She didn’t need his help.

“I won’t be sleeping outside,” Gwyn told him in the snottiest voice she could manage. Eris would be proud—she sounded just like him.

“I’m well aware,” Azriel replied without humor. “You’ll be locked in a tavern room. And before you get any ideas, princess, I will be just outside.”

“What ideas—”

“I’m told you run away. Often,” he added, those hazel eyes focused straight ahead. 

Eris was such a cheat. Of course he’d warn this man, likely with veiled threats of what would happen if Gwyn slipped his grasp. The thought of trying occurred to her, though something in the set of his shoulders told her it was better not to try his patience. Clotho had never truly been angry with Gwyn. Impatient, frustrated, even irritated, yes. But truly angry? Never.

She had the feeling this man might raise his voice. Might yell. And he’d learn, if he did, that all her talk was merely bravado and beneath she crumpled easily. There was no Catrin to create a wall, to shield Gwyn from the tempers of the world while Gwyn sniffed, eyes welling with tears.

Even as a grown woman, anger so often provoked the sobbing reaction. 

“Well. I’m trying to leave this place, not return to it,” Gwyn told him, some of that haughtiness gone. She had a good plan, one that seemed achievable and promised relief. Get home. Fake enough contrition that Eris stopped thinking about her, which was almost the same as his concern. And then, once he was in a good mood—perhaps the night before his wedding, when he was likely to be a little drunk and too focused on himself to think of his wayward siblings—ask for the Seaside Palace. Maybe, she reasoned, she could ask to just go for a while and acclimate herself back into royal life.

And once she was gone and no longer causing mischief, Eris would let her stay if only to have one less person to worry about. 

“You want to return to the palace?” Azriel inquired, as though this was difficult to believe.

Gwyn twisted in her saddle, looking over her shoulder at the temple atop the hill, fading quickly in the creeping fog, its spindled fingers forever reaching for the sky without ever quite reaching. How was anyone supposed to feel human in a place dedicated to the gods? 

“It’s my home,” she said softly, turning her eyes toward the paved road ahead, curving over lush, green hills that promised freedom. In truth, the palace had long stopped being her home and yet that was where Catrin’s ghost still lived, where half of Gwyn’s heart was buried. Perhaps she could fill the aching yawn stretching in her chest, could finally have some closure.

It was tempting, right then, to ask Azriel about court life. Some sick urge wanted to know who still lingered in those ornate marble halls. She never wanted to hear the names spoken and yet thought of them so often, wondering how their lives had gone, that Gwyn was constantly at war with herself. There was no outcome that would bring her peace because no matter what happened to them, Catrin was still dead and Gwyn was still alone.

Though, she supposed being allowed to kill them would be a close second. 

Azriel asked her no more questions, settling into a comfortable pace. On occasion he stopped to let the horses graze and rest, but for the most part they rode in silence. It left Gwyn with too much time to think, and thinking very quickly turned to ruminating. She knew she couldn’t change the past and yet…if only she’d told Eris sooner. If only she’d kept what happened to herself. Catrin might still be alive and Gwyn wouldn’t feel so angry and hollow. 

They’d been more than just sisters. Gwyn and Catrin had shared a womb, a body, a soul. Tilting her face skyward, Gwyn would have given anything to tell Catrin how sorry she was. And when a cool breeze fluttered against her overheated cheeks, Gwyn thought it was Catrin’s hand reassuring her everything was alright.

She tried to find contentment with that. 

Azriel had promised her a room, and he managed to deliver. After what felt like miles of nothing, a dilapidated village appeared just as the sun began to dip, casting even weaker light over the gloomy world. Gwyn pulled her cloak a little tighter against her shoulders as they made their way through high, iron gates covered in curling ivy. The homes were made of stone and wood, the windows chipped and covered with boards to keep out the rainy chill.

It unnerved Gwyn how no one moved around. It wasn’t that late and yet had there not been flickering candle light behind some of the filth covered glass, she would have thought the entire village was inhabited by ghosts. The tavern Azriel promised had a rotted wooden sign banging about in the wind, unreadable from the elements.

Someone came out to meet them, taking the reins from Azriel wordlessly in exchange for a couple coins pressed into a weathered palm. Gwyn said nothing, keeping her hood over her head to obscure the auburn hair that would mark her as a Vanserra. Hers was darker than her brothers—more cinnamon and gold than true coppery red—and still something about it made people pause. 

Azriel nodded for her to go inside, pulling the handle to a swinging door so she could duck beneath his arm.

“Say nothing,” he murmured, his lips barely moving. For once, Gwyn was inclined to do as she was told. Keeping herself close, Gwyn followed him over creaking wood boards toward a chipped and warped desk where an exhausted looking matron stood, her eyes fixed on the pair of them. 

She’d been told not to speak, and so she didn’t. While Azriel asked for one room, his voice low and intimate, Gwyn took the opportunity to survey their lodgings for the evening. The tavern was just that—a tavern first, room for rent second. Exhausted bodies were hunched over tarnished cups and worn bowls of food, steam curling around wan faces. Gwyn was tempted and nervous all at once.

It was a room filled with unfamiliar people, the majority of which were men. Azriel spared her the agonizing, gloved fingers reaching for her elbow to tug her in the opposite direction toward narrow, spiraling stairs.

“I’m hungry,” she whispered.

Behind them, the door opened and two men stepped into the room. Like Gwyn, their faces were obscured by rather fine looking cloaks and yet she knew without seeing them at all that they didn’t belong. Azriel’s eyes slid over their frames without recognition, turning back to her as the two large, powerfully built men made their way toward the tavern.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” he replied, level as always. “In your room.”

“Fine,” she hissed, though relief pierced her irritation. “I want a lot of it.”

He only shrugged, as though it didn’t bother him one way or the other. How much gold had Eris given him, she wondered? Enough to keep her fed, which was a relief. Food was a good substitute for feeling at time, and Gwyn was tired of how raw she felt. She’d eat, she’d bathe, and she’d go to bed.

After all. She was one day closer to home.

#these chapters used to be longer but i took out all the az pov #just to add a little mystery #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger

[athenodora-sulpicia-writer]

Artemisia x FemReader

A Princess and a Commander

A/N: I haven’t written for Artemisia in a while and I missed writing for her, so when I saw a story that gave me the perfect inspiration I knew I had to give it a go.

Warnings: None

Persia was one of the greatest empires of its time and none could match it strength in battle nor its wealth in knowledge. As such like a great and successful things, there was always someone or something wishing to topple them.

Persia was ruled by the great King Darius he was your father and you were the Princess and Persia's greatest treasure.

There had been threats recently in the capital against your family, this wasn't an uncommon assurance though it seemed the threats were becoming more frequent and closer to home and suddenly the entire palace was on high alert.

You were currently sitting in court to your father's left, whilst your brother Xerxes was sitting to his left. Matters were being discussed and disputes were being settled but you struggled to keep your attention focused entirely on the matters at hand.

your mind drifted from the throne room you were sitting to the ports and watersides that surrounded your home, to you there was nothing more beautiful than the sea and if you could anywhere at that moment, it certainly wouldn't be sitting in a room discussing politics whilst sitting looking beautiful. Instead it would be sitting by the water's edge admiring the soft sounds of the water as it rippled and flowed.

"Y/n," a voice called out though it was faint and almost inaudible when it reached your ears, your mind still wandering by the sea. "Y/n!" The voice was much louder this time and it jolted you quickly out of your thoughts.

"Yes," You called out, head turning from one side to another unsure as to who spoke your name and trying to locate the disturber. It was clear though, when you meant the slightly annoyed face of your father, that it was he who was calling for you.

"Y/n, Why weren't you listening?" he asked you, his voice was stern and almost disappointed, though he could never truly bring himself to actually sound angry at you. Now you felt guilty for not paying attention and you worried that you may have missed something important, due to his tone.

"I'm sorry father," You began to answer, upset with yourself for ignoring him even though it was unintentional, "I'm not quite sure what happened, could you repeat yourself please?" You asked him kindly, giving a vague explanation as to why you hadn't answered.

"I was explaining that I've called a guest to stay at the palace for the indefinite future, they'll be assigned to yourself to keep you safe these next coming weeks." Your father kept eye contact with you as he spoke, leaning on the left of his throne to be closer to you.

"Why on earth do I need a bodyguard," You asked him, though it seemed you hadn't though your words through before you'd said them, as they came across harshly due to raised voice and unruly tone. You were no longer sat but instead standing as you looked down at your father annoyed. Why did you need a bodyguard, there were plenty of soldiers around the palace and you could take care of yourself, you weren't a child anymore.

"Y/n keep your voice down, I don't want any back talk. This is for your own safety, you know the threats that have been made, it's to keep you safe." Even now, after you'd raised your voice at him and stood taller them him, your father wasn't angry, if anything he was more concerned than anything, is eyes conveying enough sincerity to confirm the worry but even that couldn't defuse your anger.

"I bet Xerxes isn't getting a bodyguard," You argued, pointing at your brother that sat your father's left. He'd kept himself out of the conversation thus fair but now you'd quite literally dragged him into it and he seemed less than pleased with that.

"Of course he's not, your brother can protect of himself against a threat but Y/n you haven't had much training and can barely keep your attention on the matter in the room longer than five minutes," Your father began to say to you, deciding to reason with facts than scolding. "How do you expect to me leave defenceless when your life could be at risk and you wouldn't even notice.”

You knew he was only looking out for you, he was your father of course he was and it wasn't like he was making up these facts either. Each one had been true, though the attention span one was slightly dramatised, you could pay attention to things, if anything you had some of the best hearing you knew of it. You only didn't pay attention during court and other formal gatherings because it was always the same old story being repeated for the hundredth time and it got boring very quickly.

You could tell by the look in your father's eyes that there was no arguing your way out for this and as such you wouldn't waste your breath, so instead you hung your head low and asked "When will this man be arriving?”

"They, will be arriving two days from now, until then you'll have to palace guards accompanying you during the day." Your father spoke matter of factly and now you already hated this man that would be showing up and stealing away your freedom for the foreseeable future.

"Alright father," You responded disappointed with what you had been told and quickly you left the throne room, deciding to retire to your chambers for the rest of the evening but even then you heard two of the guards from room, following closely behind you and you already detested this arrangement.

The next morning followed a very uneventful evening, you hadn't dared leave your rooms because you didn't want to be followed by two men, so instead you lock your rooms doors and curled up by the window with a book, not retiring for the night until the sky was the darkest shade of navy and the stars were brighter than before.

You'd taken your sweet time getting ready that morning, if you were going to followed by to guards, then you were going to annoy the life out of them until they were begging your father to relieve them of the duties to protect you.

Then once this 'Bodyguard' arrived you'd do the exact same thing to him and even more and you just knew he'd be running to the other end of Persia driven into madness by his Princess and then your father would have no choice but to give up and return your freedom back to you.

You'd taken an extra twenty minutes longer then usual, though you'd actually spent some of that time reading and dancing about your room, since you already knew that you really couldn't take longer then half an hour to get ready, so you tried filling out the time by doing other activities.

You knew you'd already annoyed the two guards who were to follow you for the next two days, there annoyed grunts and heavy footing was giving their annoyance towards you away. Though they'd never dare saying anything directly to you as you were their Princess and therefore you held the power with the situation.

Breakfast was much different to usual, accept from the fact that you made more of a point to talk to your brother rather than your father, as you were still greatly annoyed by his decision to strip you of your freedom. People could call you childish for doing such a thing and in all honesty you knew it was but quite frankly you didn't care and quite frankly why would you call an adults actions childish because unlike a child, an adult would always have a reason to back up their decisions.

After breakfast had concluded you'd left with a simple glance and goodbye towards your father, you could certainly hold a grudge. You didn't have any royal responsibilities to attend to today so as you walked down one of the many corridors of the palace, your mind thought through all the things you could do.

After walking out of the dining hall all your ears could hear was the heavy foot falls of the palace guards following you but when you rounded a corner and began walking down a new corridor it went quiet.

You didn't care enough to stop and check why the noises had stopped, and quite frankly looking down at the floor and being in your own little world, was far more satisfying.

The only problem was that you because your focus was on the ground and not in front of you, you hadn't been watching where you were going and not long after the corridor had gone quiet, you knocked into something hard and had to stop yourself from falling to the floor.

Your quickly regained your balance and began to look up as you steadied yourself, you were now angry that someone had knocked into you but in reality you were really only angry with yourself for yet again paying attention to your surroundings.

"Hey! watch were your going," you exclaimed in a loud and very un-Princess like voice, your tone slightly angered as you looked upon the person who you'd knocked into.

You expected to be looking upon a servant at the very most some advisor of your father's waiting for an audience but you certainly weren't expecting to see a woman, dress half like a lady and half like a soldier and suddenly you had to stop yourself from gaping.

You'd never seen a woman like her, she had black hair and blue, though her eyes were a little hard to make out due to the black eye makeup she was wearing. None of the ladies a court ever wore anything but a gown and though you were always more partially in dress, you did enjoy something a little less feminine when down by the sea.

"I beg your pardon," This wasn't voice was heavier than your own, her tone wasn't angry like yours but almost surprised and amused at once, as if she'd never had someone talk to her like that and she found it amusing.

Not one to admit you were wrong in front of a stranger you continued with your annoyance, "You walked into me, the very least you can do is apologise." You argued against this woman's amused tone but it seemed your statement had only amused her more and endeared her on.

"Alright I'll play along," She whispered it seemed the comment was more to herself then you and then you could see how her demeanour changed "I'm so very sorry my lady," She began to speak and immediately you could hear her words dripping with sarcasm. "Whilst you have me apologising would you also like me to brush hair and tie your shoes.”

It didn't matter that your anger towards the woman before was fake and instead anger towards yourself, now you were truly angry with her, not only was her amused smirk and sarcasm deeply irritating but her words were down right insulting, either she didn't know who you were or she very clearly didn't care.

"How dare you," Your voice was elevated as you raised your head and began to walk past the crude woman, knocking her shoulder on your way past. "Arrogant arse," You mumbled under your breath not caring whether this disrespectful woman had heard you or not but unbeknownst to you she had.

Once you'd neared the end of the corridor you heard your guards running down to catch up to you, though you did wonder why they stopped in the first place, strange.

You'd decided to spend the rest of your day in the gardens, having your lunch being brought out instead of eating inside and then you'd tended to some of the plants had read some more of your book, before finishing the day of with some scripture writing.

Dinner was similar to breakfast, in the way that it was uneventful though you'd decided that you couldn't ignore your father for the rest of your life. So after being nudged and encouraged along by your brother, you finally cave and spent the last bit of dinner having a conversation with your father, that thankfully had nothing to do with your safety or guarding arrangements.

#eva green #eva green x fem #eva green story #eva green gifs #eva green x reader #artemisia x reader #artemisia #300 rise of an empire #rise of an empire #greece #ancient persia #ancient greece #princess royal #actress #fantasy #miss peregrine #miss peregrine x reader #edit

[sotwk]

I would absolutely love to hear literally any random thought you have about Eomer or Boromir.

Hee! What a wonderful Ask! But oh my goodness, this is a little tricky because just thinking of either of those two kind of torches what few brain cells I have left because they're just so... you know. ;)

I do have timeline notes for these two wonderful Men because I'm finally starting my multi-chapter fics for them. However, I don't want to spoil anything, so lemme check what headcanon is spoiler free....

Quick Headcanon: EOMER

Eomer's military career can be summarized as follows:

Ages 12-15 - Served as squire to King Theoden

Age 16 - Accepted as Rider in the Eored of his cousin, Theodred

Age 20 - Given command of his own Eored

Age 26 - Becomes the Third Marshal of the Mark

Eomer is a prodigious soldier, often deemed the greatest Rohirrim since the days of Eorl himself. This is the result of natural (almost supernatural) talents and a fierce dedication to his country. He envisioned himself as serving as a soldier his whole life and never had any political aspirations.

Quick Headcanon: BOROMIR

Book canon states that Boromir had little interest in taking a wife because he was too preoccupied with learning the ways of warfare so he could protect his beloved City. This certainly was true when he was younger, because settling down wasn't a priority in his mind.

But I also headcanon that young Boromir was a "good soldier" a.k.a. good at taking orders. This was part of why Denethor loved him so much; he didn't deviate from "The Plan". Basically The Plan was to inherit the Stewardship and rule Gondor after his father. Oh, and he was going to marry and have kids and continue the prestigious bloodline.

Denethor assigns his sister-in-law, Ivriniel, to find a good match for his son for whenever the right time came.

Good Soldier Boromir says, mindlessly: "Yeah, okay, sure. Whatever, Auntie." He was ready to do as he was told and just let them pick his "perfect" wife for him.

But then he did the unthinkable and fell in love. With a commoner. A commoner with a far-less-than-ideal background.

That's not THE PLAN, Boromir! You're not supposed to have opinions!

And you can bet Lady Ivriniel is gonna make a damn good impression of Lady Catherine de Bourgh when she finds out and it's gonna make for some Austen-ian drama.

(All this coming in the Boromir fic I have in the works.)

Tagging just a few fans who might be interested: @scyllas-revenge @ass-deep-in-demons @hippodameia @hobbitwrangler @konartiste @emmanuellececchi @thetempleofthemasaigoddess @heilith @absentmindeduniverse and I'm sure I've missed people but like I said my brain cells are probably fried from thinking about these two. XD

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

#sotwk answers #eomer #boromir #eomer headcanon #boromir headcanon #tolkien #lotr