#dry blackthorn

[secretsofblackthornhall]

Emma to Cristina

Dear Cristina,

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I realize the message I just sent you probably didn’t make a lick of sense, so after you’ve read it, toss it and read this. I was in kind of a hysterical state when I wrote it — I’ve been wanting to tell you all about what was going on with Mina being kidnapped for days, but I couldn’t. Then, when I could, it all just kind of poured out. Again, sorry!

It was awful not being able to say anything to you about what was happening. I’ve always hated politics, as you know—but however unusual your (and Mark’s) position, the Seelie Court would certainly consider you part of Kieran’s retinue, and we were expressly forbidden from contacting either Court about the fact that Mina was kidnapped right out of her bedroom here at Blackthorn Hall. And we obeyed to the letter.

So, it turned out the person who’d spearheaded the kidnapping was Mother Hawthorn, the nursemaid to the First Heir, who chose to marry a Shadowhunter. She’s had a complicated relationship with Shadowhunters, especially Herondales (who DOESN’T have a complicated relationship with Herondales, I ask you) ever since — and now she was demanding to see Kit if we ever wanted to get Mina back.

Nobody wanted Kit to do it, even though everyone was desperately afraid for Mina. But he was determined. There was no stopping him. So arrangements were made through a bunch of faerie go-betweens for Kit to meet Mother Hawthorn. She had demanded a rendezvous near river water, so we went down to the Promenade in Chiswick. There’s an itty bitty park there, and a little bandstand. We all — me and Julian, Tessa and Jem and Kit — walked down there, pretty quietly and somberly. Tessa kept stroking Kit’s back, and it was clear she was trying not to cry. Jem looked like he wanted to kill someone. Kit just looked determined. And Jules — well, I’ll get to Jules.

We stayed some distance away while Kit crossed the dry grass toward the bandstand. As he approached, Mother Hawthorn came out of the trees, holding Mina, and started walking toward him.

Jules and I both tensed up, in case either Jem or Tessa made a break for the baby. We wouldn’t have blamed them, but we knew they couldn’t be allowed to do it – Kit had to be able to try to get Mina without a violent fight. All I can say is, you can kind of see how much they’ve both been through and endured over all the time they've been alive. They clutched each other’s hands and neither of them moved, even though you could see how desperately they wanted to run to their children. It was an incredible display of control, and heart-breaking too.

Kit and Mother Hawthorn came together in front of the bandstand. Of course we couldn’t hear anything of their conversation, but we could see that Mina immediately put her arms out for Kit. Kit tried to reach for her, but Mother Hawthorn held up a hand. She clearly wouldn’t give her back, and they started arguing. I could tell how angry Kit was, even though he was trying to hold onto control. He kept shaking his head no over and over, almost every time Mother Hawthorn spoke.

Anyway, after a couple of minutes of that, Mother Hawthorn started to laugh. She looked over — she clearly saw us and didn’t care — and snapped her fingers. Kit was flung to the ground; he rolled over and came up on his feet, but by then black vines were whipping up out of the ground, slashing at him, winding around his legs. Mina was screaming so loudly we could hear her.

“That’s enough,” Jem snarled, and started across the street. But Julian put a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait,” he said, and we all stared at him — you know I have utter faith in Julian, but for a moment even I wondered if he’d gone crazy.

And then. Then there was this huge noise. I thought it was a helicopter at first, or maybe a bunch of helicopters, but then I realized no, the sound was stranger than that — it was hooves, beating against the sky. They passed over us and—it was Gwyn and Diana! I mean, it was the whole Wild Hunt, there were a couple dozen of them, some on horses, some on winged creatures I’d never seen before. But in front was Gwyn, with Diana on another horse behind him, her hair streaming out behind her.

Diana swooped down and grabbed Mina right out of Mother Hawthorn’s arms. Gwyn was right behind her, and seized up Mother Hawthorn in one arm—that guy is, uh, pretty strong I guess—and kind of slung her over the back of his horse. It looked pretty dangerous for Mother Hawthorn but you know, not a lot of sympathy for kidnappers here.

Diana swooped (the Wild Hunt does a lot of swooping, as you may recall) over to us, and gently handed Mina off to Jem and Tessa. Then Diana winked at us and rose back into the sky, and she and Gwyn and the whole rest of the Hunt ascended faster than I would have thought possible. I guess they had to get Mother Hawthorn away from us, which made sense. Anyway, they disappeared into the clouds and were gone.

I have to say, Diana’s wink was pretty badass. It made me miss doing badass stuff, a little. I think I’ll take Cortana out back tonight and seriously behead some weeds.

So anyway. Kit was running back toward us, and Tessa was crying in relief and Jem was staring at where the Wild Hunt had disappeared. Mina, of course, was fine. She kept saying, “Horsies!” which was hilarious, and then Kit got there and started fussing over her, and Julian and I stepped away to give the four of them space for their reunion.

Julian had one of those Looks on his face, and I had a hunch. “That was you, right?” I said. “You contacted the Wild Hunt.”

He shrugged. “Mother Hawthorn said not to contact the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, but the Wild Hunt is neither. They don’t swear allegiance to anybody.”

“Neither does Mother Hawthorn,” I said. “So it was like, ‘Wild fey, come get your wild friend, she is getting too wild?’”

“Something like that,” he said, and his voice was casual but I could tell he was pleased with himself. And all right, fine, I was pleased with him too, and I told him so.

On the way back to the house we asked Kit what it was Mother Hawthorn even wanted. He said she wanted to tell him he was the descendent of the first you-know-who (I know Kieran has told you something about Kit’s faerie heritage, but not all of it, and most people don't know) and that she had come to take him to live in Faerie where he belongs. He said he tried to make it clear that he didn’t want to live in Faerie, that he was satisfied with the life he had (although he kind of looked over at Jem and Tessa while he said it and I think satisfied is maybe less embarrassing to say than how he actually feels, which is much better than that). She just kept telling him it was his destiny and his duty, his fate would come for him soon enough if he didn’t bend to it, blah blah faerie stuff, you know how they are. (Uh, no offense if you’re reading this too, Kieran.)

I don’t think he was telling the whole truth, though, because Mother Hawthorn went to a lot of trouble just to send a message like that. I mean she could have put that on a postcard. It wasn’t anything Kit didn’t already know, basically. I am sure there was more she said that Kit didn’t want to share — I could tell from his expression. I hope he’ll tell Jem and Tessa, when he’s ready. At least we can be pretty sure Gwyn will make sure Mother Hawthorn stays away from him  — it’s one less thing to worry about.

That’s about all the news from here, and I’m so relieved to be able to share it with you finally. I guess if Kieran needs more information he should reach out to Gwyn; I’ve told you pretty much all I know.

Take care, and talk to you soon, and love to K and M!

Emma

#sobh #secrets of blackthorn hall #emma carstairs #cristina rosales #kit herondale #mina carstairs #julian blackthorn #the wild hunt #diana and gwyn #diana wrayburn #mother hawthorn #jem carstairs #tessa gray

[wholoveseggs]

Crimson Frost {Part Two}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Two

After the raid on your village you are separated from your little sister and your betrothed Niklaus, not knowing if they are alive or dead. Holed up in a hut with Elijah during a raging snowstorm, you train and prepare to hunt down the Blackthornes. Meanwhile, Niklaus, Kol and Rebekah have found safe haven in a nearby village, the leader Ansel provides all he can.

♡♡ Sorry for the wait on this one! ♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: Viking AU where the Mikaelsons are completely human (no magic, werewolves, vampires... etc) lots of death and violence, sprinkle of norse mythology... a little bit of smut in this part but I won't spoil who.

{Part One} {Part Three} {Part Four}

You woke to the sound of wind howling and the creaking of the roof beams, it was still dark and the fire had burned low, the chill was already creeping in.

You got up and went over to the window, looking out onto the white landscape, the snow was coming down fast, and you could barely see the tree line.

"Elijah," you nudged him awake, "the storm, it's bad."

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching, "We won't be able to travel today." He said, moving to stoke the fire, "I'll go out and get more wood. We'll need it if we want to make it through the day."

He got dressed and grabbed his ax, "Stay here, I won't be long."

"I can help, we need food as well," you offered, grabbing your coat and boots.

"No, it's too dangerous, you could get lost, or worse," Elijah said.

"I'll be fine, I can handle myself," you argued, the memory of Einar's attack still fresh in your mind.

"It's not just about the danger, there's also the wolves, they'll be out hunting," Elijah explained, his tone serious.

"I am not a child anymore Elijah, you cannot boss me around, I can hunt and fight as well as any man," you huffed, crossing your arms.

"I know, I saw the way you fought off those raiders. You are a true warrior, worthy of the gods," Elijah smiled, his eyes shining with admiration.

"I'm also good at hunting rabbits," you said with a smile, picking up a old bow that was leaning against the wall.

Elijah sighed, you were stubborn like Niklaus, and he knew there was no point in arguing.

"Alright, but stay close, and keep an eye out for wolves, they're more cunning than you think," he warned.

"I can handle wolves," you smirked.

You bundled up and followed Elijah outside, the cold air nipping at your skin. You didn't go far before you found deer prints in the snow, they were fresh, and the tracks were deep.

"We're in luck, there's a herd nearby," Elijah whispered, "keep your bow ready, we'll try and take one down."

You nodded, following Elijah's lead. You stalked through the forest, your footsteps silent.

You saw a large stag ahead, his antlers standing tall and proud. He was beautiful and a part of you wished to leave it be, but you knew you had to feed the both of you.

Elijah made the signal and you let your arrow fly, it hit the stag in the neck, and he went down, the herd scattering.

The two of you spent the better part of the day tracking down and killing a couple of does and a few rabbits. It was hard work, but the thrill of the hunt and the success of a good kill made it worth it.

The snow was still falling, and you could see the storm was only getting worse. The game you hunted would last you a good while and you set to work preparing it, hanging the meat and skinning the hides.

Elijah worked beside you, helping you cut and dry the meat, his hands steady and sure. You were both silent, lost in your thoughts. You always wondered about Niklaus' mysterious older brother, the rest of the Mikaelson siblings you had grown up with, with the exception of Finn, who had always kept to himself. But Elijah was the enigma of the family. He was quiet and reserved, but there was a strength and determination in him, you could see it in his eyes.

You wondered why he had never married, why he was still alone. He was handsome and strong, any woman would be lucky to have him.

"Why haven't you taken a wife?" You blurted out, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

Elijah looked up, a small smile on his face, "Is that a question you ask everyone, or is it just me?"

You felt your face heat up, and you ducked your head, embarrassed, "Forgive me, I did not mean to offend."

"It's quite alright," Elijah chuckled, "I never found the right person, I suppose."

"You are a good man, any woman would be lucky to have you," you smiled, turning back to the venison you were cutting.

"Thank you, but I fear I am too boring for most women," Elijah laughed, his tone light and playful.

"Oh, I don't know about that, you seem quite interesting to me," you teased, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

"I am honored to have such a high opinion from you," Elijah smirked, his eyes shining with mischief.

You both finished the venison, and you hung the hides to dry, the sun was setting and the temperature was dropping.

"We should go inside, the storm is getting worse," Elijah said, his brow furrowed in concern. "I worry our lovely horse may be a bit difficult to dig out in the morning."

You laughed and shook your head, "I'm sure she'll be just fine. She's a tough one."

The two of you walked back to the cabin, the wind whipping around you, the snow stinging your skin, you were freezing.

You hurried inside and started the fire, the warmth slowly returning to the small space. The wind was really howling outside, the trees swaying wildly, the sound of almost deafening.

"Do you think the others made it? Where would they have gone," you asked, unable to stop your mind from wandering.

"They'll be alright, they're smart and strong," Elijah reassured you, "they've probably made it to the neighboring village, the leader there knows my mother," he added, his voice quiet.

You could hear the worry in his voice, the unspoken fears, his siblings, your sister, were they safe, were they alive?

The two of you settled in for the night, the storm showing no signs of slowing. You huddled close to the fire, the blankets wrapped tightly around you, trying to keep warm. The cold had seeped into your bones, and Elijah noticed the way you trembled.

"Come here," he said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close, his body pressed against yours.

You were stiff and hesitant, but the warmth of his body and the comfort of his embrace made you relax, the tension slowly melting away.

"It's not proper, us being this close," you whispered, your cheeks flushing.

"I'm not the one who has to worry about being proper," he joked, his breath tickling your ear, "besides, we're not doing anything wrong, just sharing our body heat,"

You giggled, his words easing your nerves, "I suppose you're right,"

The two of you sat like that for a while, the fire crackling and the wind howling, the sounds of the storm filling the room.

"When this storm breaks we should make for the coast," Elijah said, breaking the silence, his hand causally rubbing your arm, the heat of his touch causing strange sensations within you.

"Why not the village? Where the rest could be?" You asked, looking up at him, his face illuminated by the fire.

"The Blackthornes will take their thralls to the coast, to ship them off and sell them. They're brutal, but smart, they'll want to get rid of them as quickly as possible, before word gets out," Elijah explained, his voice grim.

"Gerda.. She's just a child," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes, the thought of your baby sister being sold like cattle making you sick.

"Henrik will protect her the best he can, he has a warriors heart," Elijah said, his voice cracking a bit at the thought of his baby brother. He was only ten summers and had barely learned to fight.

You nodded, the tears flowing freely now, "I- I can't lose them. I can't lose her,"

Elijah pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, his hands stroking your hair, "We'll find them, we'll save them. I swear it on the gods."

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other's embrace, the warmth of the fire and the closeness of his body providing a small measure of comfort. You feared that maybe you were the only two left alive, that everyone else had perished in the raid.

"What if we don't find them, what if we're too late," you whispered, your voice shaking, the weight of the situation weighing heavily on you.

"Then we will avenge them," Elijah said, his tone solemn, "we will make those bastards pay for what they've done."

You nodded, staring into the flames, the drums of war beating in your mind. You would fight until the last drop of blood, for your people, for your family.

In the following weeks Elijah took it upon himself to train you to fight.

The two of you trained every day, honing your skills and pushing each other to the limits.

Elijah was a relentless and patient teacher, never letting up, always demanding more. And you were a willing student, eager to learn, and determined to become stronger, faster, better.

You spent countless hours sparring, practicing defense, you had an affinity for wielding two axes, the blades swift and deadly in your hands.

The two of you were well suited as a fighting duo, your strengths complimenting each other, your weaknesses covering for the other.

"Keep your arms up, higher, good," Elijah encouraged as the two of you went through a series of drills, "now, again,"

The two of you circled each other, your axes ready. You lunged, swinging the axe, the blade narrowly missing Elijah's chest. He smiled and brought his shield up, blocking the blow, the sound of metal on wood echoing through the clearing.

"Better," he said, "you're quick, and you have the element of surprise on your side, but you must remember, no matter how good you are, there will always be someone better."

"Like you?" you smirked.

"Maybe a little," Elijah chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

He stepped forward and swung his axe, the blade singing through the air, you ducked and rolled, coming up behind him to strike him. But he was faster, he flipped you on your back, the blade of his axe pressed against your throat, "Never underestimate your opponent,"

You looked up at him, his eyes locked on yours, his face flushed from the exercise, his breath hot against your skin, "I understand," you whispered, your pulse racing.

You thought about what his lips would feel like against yours, his body pressing you into the soft ground. You had to admit you had become more than attracted to him, he was strong, brave, and smart, he had a way of drawing you in, you had never quite experienced it before, not even with Niklaus.

You wondered if he felt the same, if he ever thought of you, of what it would be like to kiss you, to touch you.

"Do you?," he asked, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, the blade still pressed against your neck, "Yes, I do,"

"Good," he said, his voice a whisper, his eyes full of desire.

He stood and held out his hand, helping you to your feet. You both stood there for a moment, your bodies dangerously close, the tension between you growing thick.

You wanted him, and you could tell he wanted you too. But it was wrong, you were supposed to be his sister-in-law, it was forbidden, taboo.

You were still a maiden, promised to Niklaus. But you knew deep down you did not love him, not like Elijah. You didn't know why the gods cursed you with such feelings, with such a longing for the brother of the man you were promised to.

"Elijah, I-" You started, your voice shaky, the words dying on your tongue.

"Let's go inside, the air is too cold," Elijah said, his voice gentle.

"Y-yes," you nodded, following him inside.

Your heart was racing, your mind a mess, you couldn't believe the things you were feeling, the desires you had. It went against everything you had been taught, it was sinful, it was wrong.

And yet, you could not deny it. You were drawn to him, you longed for his touch, his kiss, his body pressed against yours. You wanted to do things with him that husband and wife do, forbidden things.

But the gods were watching, and they did not take kindly to those who disobeyed their laws. You could not give in to your desires, you had to remain strong, pure, chaste.

Still, you wondered if the gods had a plan for the two of you, if maybe they had destined you to be together. Maybe the gods wanted you to be happy, to have true love in your life.

You watched Elijah stoke the fire, cooking a rabbit over the flames, the scent of it making your stomach growl. You sat on the floor, your knees pulled to your chest, the blanket wrapped tightly around you, a barrier between the two of you.

"How did you know about this place?" You asked, referring to the cabin.

"My brothers and I built it years ago," he said, "We came here to get away, to have some time to ourselves. We would camp and hunt, it was our escape from... the pressures of being a son of a jarl," he added, a wistful smile on his face.

"I heard that Mikael could be a difficult man," you said, knowing that was an understatement.

Elijah didn't say anything, just handed you a piece of the cooked rabbit, his hand brushing against yours. You ate in silence, the crackle of the fire the only sound.

"He could be... cruel," Elijah said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes distant, like he was lost in a memory, "there are secrets in my family, things that no one speaks of,"

"Secrets?" You asked, your curiosity piqued.

"Things I cannot talk about," he said, his jaw set, his gaze dark.

You didn't want to press the matter, whatever the secrets were, they were clearly painful for him, you didn't want to force him to relive them.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, reaching out and placing your hand on his.

He looked at you, his expression softening, a sad smile playing on his lips, "It's okay, it's in the past now. What matters is the future, what we do to honor the ones we lost, to protect those who are still with us."

You nodded, his words resonating deep within you, "You're right, we must not dwell on the past, we must focus on the future, on those we love,"

Elijah smiled, his hand squeezing yours, "Yes, the future is all that matters,"

The two of you finished your meal, the silence no longer tense, but comfortable. You helped him clean up and prepare the space for the night, the storm finally letting up.

You got ready for bed, washing yourself in the basin and slipping into a simple linen tunic.

Elijah did the same, and you could not help but admire his body, his lean muscles, his skin smooth and tanned from the sun. You usually looked away, to give him privacy like he did for you, but you were drawn to him, your eyes taking in every inch of him.

He caught you looking and you quickly turned away, your face burning. He laughed, a deep rumbling sound that made your heart flutter.

"Sorry, I was just-" you mumbled, embarrassed.

"Goodnight, y/n. Come dawn we will start tracking the Blackthornes," he said, the playfulness in his voice gone, replaced by the hardened resolve of a warrior.

"Goodnight, Elijah," you replied, curling up on the pallet, the warmth of the fire lulling you to sleep.

The smell of herbs and spices filled the air as Tatia mixed some in a bowl, the healer humming quietly to herself. The young woman was a skilled healer and well-respected in her village.

"There, this should help ease your pain," Tatia smiled at Rebekah, handing her the bowl, the liquid inside warm and soothing.

"Thank you," Rebekah smiled weakly, bringing the bowl to her lips. She winced as she drank, the scar on her face throbbing with pain.

"Careful now," Tatia said softly, "that elixir is strong. You'll want to go slow and make sure you're keeping it down,"

Rebekah nodded and drank slower, the warmth of the brew filling her body and dulling the pain.

Niklaus sat beside Kol, who was sleeping on a cot in the healer's hut, his body bruised and battered from the fight with the Blackthorne raiders. Tatia's eyes met Niklaus', he couldn't help but feel a tingle of warmth spread across his body as he watched the healer's eyes linger on his, there was something about the way she looked at him that made him feel seen, appreciated, as if she could see his pain and anger.

Tatia smiled gently and reached out to touch Niklaus' hand, the simple gesture making his breath catch in his throat, "you have the strength of Odin," she whispered, her voice like a song, "you saved them both from those brutes,"

Niklaus looked up at the woman, her face beautiful, her eyes kind and understanding.

"I-" Niklaus stammered, "I had to, they are my family." He had never felt so at a loss for words before, and he struggled to find the words to describe the pain he was feeling.

"Let me take a look at you," Tatia said gently, "you look like you could use a healing touch yourself,"

Niklaus hesitated, still overwhelmed by the woman's closeness and the connection he felt. Tatia sensed his unease and took his hand, her skin warm against his. "You must be at your full strength for the war to come." She smiled at him and he found himself smiling back, despite the ache in his body.

Tatia motioned for Niklaus to lay down, she pulled up his tunic, taking a look at the wound on his side, the flesh raw and bruised, "It's not too bad," she said softly, her hands gentle as they cleaned and bandaged the wound, "it will become just another scar for you to boast to your wife about," she teased. Niklaus couldn't help but chuckle at her words, a feeling of warmth spreading through him at her touch.

He felt a wave of guilt at the thought of you, his future wife. He wondered how you were doing, if you were safe, if he would ever see you again. Tatia must have sensed his worry, she looked up at him, her eyes soft. "She is strong and fierce, and I am certain she will come back to you,"

Niklaus swallowed hard, his throat thick with emotion. He prayed that Elijah had saved you, that the two of you were somewhere safe, weathering the storm together.

He sighed and nodded, "I know, but it doesn't stop the worry and pain from eating away at me."

"I understand," Tatia said, her fingers tracing along Niklaus' jaw, her touch sending a jolt of warmth through his body, "the bond of family is strong and often the most painful."

Tatia continued her work, cleaning and tending to Niklaus' wounds, the gentle touch of her hands making him feel safe and protected.

"You should speak to our leader, Ansel, when you're feeling better," Tatia said after she finished, "I know he will be interested in meeting you. He will want to hear your story and your plans."

Niklaus nodded, he couldn't help but notice how the young healer's eyes lingered on him as she spoke. "I will, thank you Tatia, you have been more than kind," he said.

"Of course," Tatia said, giving Niklaus one last smile, "you're a special guest here. I knew your mother quite well,"

Tatia's words took Niklaus by surprise, "You did?"

"Aye," Tatia nodded, suddenly avoiding Niklaus gaze, she stood and went to check on Rebekah who had fallen asleep in a chair, the pain of the healing draught helping her rest.

Niklaus stared at her for a moment, wanting to ask more, but deciding to let it go. The young healer was right, he was here on important business, he couldn't afford to let his emotions get in the way. He had to be focused and clear-headed if he was to get his revenge on the Blackthornes. He would need the support of Ansel and his men if he were to succeed.

Kol began to stir, he slowly opened his eyes, groaning with pain as he tried to sit up.

"Careful, Kol," Tatia said softly, placing her hand gently on Kol's arm, "you need to rest,"

"What happened?" Kol said, his voice raspy, he looked around the room, his gaze falling on Rebekah, who was asleep on the chair near the fire, "where Niklaus?"

"I'm here, little brother," Niklaus said, coming to sit by the edge of the bed, "how do you feel?"

"I've been better," Kol chuckled weakly, "I feel like a herd of wild boars trampled over me," he shifted in the bed and winced, Tatia moved quickly to help him get comfortable, the young man gritting his teeth through the pain.

"Try not to move too much, Kol," Tatia said softly, her gaze lingering on him, "your wounds are still fresh."

"Aye," Kol breathed out, the young man's face pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, his brow furrowed in pain, "how long have I been out?"

"Two days," Niklaus said, his voice low, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he thought of you, his future bride. He wondered where you were, if you were safe, if Elijah had found you.

"Where is y/n? Elijah?" Kol asked, his voice strained, his eyes filled with worry.

"I don't know," Niklaus said, his voice hoarse, his throat thick with emotion. He swallowed hard and rubbed his temples, the pain of his injuries and his worry for you, his brother, and sister, weighing heavy on him.

Tatia placed a cool cloth on Kol's head, her touch gentle, soothing, "have faith," she whispered, "the gods have not forsaken them."

"Aye," Niklaus said, his gaze fixed on the flames of the hearth, "I must go speak with Ansel,"

Tatia nodded and Niklaus stood, his body aching, his heart heavy. He walked out into the village, the storm having passed, the skies clear and blue.

The villagers were busy repairing their homes, patching roofs and fixing doors, the sounds of axes chopping wood and the shouts of men filling the air. He headed towards the longhouse, his heart racing, he felt a knot in his stomach as he thought of what he was about to do.

He took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy wooden door, the familiar smells of the hall greeting him, ale, meat, and smoke. But it wasn't the same, there was a heaviness to the air, a sadness that he couldn't shake.

Ansel sat at the table, he was sharpening his sword, his expression hard, the man's eyes dark with anger and grief. He looked up as Niklaus approached, his gaze fixed on him, a hint of surprise in his face, "Niklaus Mikaelson, the gods have truly blessed me today," he stood and gripped Niklaus' arm in a warrior's greeting, "I'm sorry for the loss of your loved ones, I knew your mother well. May she rest with the gods in Valhalla,"

"Thank you, Jarl Ansel, it is an honor to meet you," Niklaus said, returning the grip, the man's strength taking him by surprise, "and the gods are merciful. They brought me here, to your village."

Ansel smiled and gestured for him to sit, the older man poured two cups of ale and handed one to Niklaus, "To the gods," he said, raising his cup.

"To the gods," Niklaus repeated, his gaze fixed on the man before him.

"My scouts have informed me that the Blackthornes have been raiding across the land," Ansel said, his voice low, "rounding up our young to sell into slavery."

Niklaus gripped his cup tighter, his knuckles white, "Aye," he nodded, "they took my little brother Henrik and my near sister-in-law Gerda,"

"They are foul creatures," Ansel spat, "they have no honor, no respect for the old ways."

"That's why I've come to you," Niklaus said, his voice firm, "I've come to seek your help in finding them, in saving the people they have taken."

Ansel gave him a sympathetic look, "You have my sympathies, but I cannot take on the Blackthornes," he shook his head, his jaw set, "I need my men here to protect my people,"

Niklaus swallowed hard, he had expected this answer, he felt rage bubbling within him, "I will not stand idly by while those bastards take more people from their families,"

Ansel's expression hardened, "it is the will of the gods, we must accept it,"

"No," Niklaus shook his head, his anger rising, "I will not accept that." He stood, his fists clenched, his heart racing, "I will not accept the gods abandoning us. I will not accept that they have given up on us,"

"Niklaus," Ansel warned, "I am your elder, and the Jarl of this village. You will show me the respect I deserve,"

"Respect?" Niklaus spat, his face twisted with anger, "you're nothing but a coward. You're content to sit here, in your hall, surrounded by your men. But you won't go out and fight."

"It's more complicated than that son," Ansel said, his voice steady, his eyes cold.

"Don't call me son," Niklaus growled, "you're not my father, you're nothing to me."

Ansel chuckled and shook his head, "You remind me so much of your mother. She was just as stubborn and foolish,"

Niklaus took a deep breath, calming himself, he wanted to strike at Ansel. But he thought of Rebekah and Kol, they needed him, he couldn't afford to lose control, not now, not when he was so close to getting the help he needed.

"If you will not help me," Niklaus said, his voice low and dangerous, "then I will find the Blackthornes myself,"

Ansel sighed and rubbed his temples, his jaw set, his expression grim, "I will give you any supplies you may need, and you and your family are welcome to stay here, as long as you need."

Niklaus clenched his fists, he was torn between wanting to accept the man's offer and wanting to strike him down, to make him feel the pain of losing someone.

"I appreciate the offer," Niklaus said, his voice strained, "I wish you could do more for me, but I will take what I can get."

"The gods are not always clear in their will, Niklaus," Ansel said, his voice low and steady, "but I have my people to look out for. Perhaps you will be a Jarl one day, and then you will understand,"

"Perhaps," Niklaus said, the man's words ringing in his head, he turned and left the hall, the anger inside him simmering.

He needed to find you, to find Elijah, to save Henrik and Gerda. Every god there ever was could stand against him for all be cared, he would drag his broken body through the gates of the underworld to save those he loved.

Tatia insisted that Niklaus heal before setting out to find the Blackthornes. She cared for him and his family, ensuring that they had everything they needed.

She took a keen interest in him, her eyes following him, her gaze lingering on him, her touch sending jolts of warmth through his body.

The night before he set off, he sat in her hut, nursing a cup of ale, lost in his thoughts. Tatia hummed softly has she shaved the sides of his head, the young woman's hands deft and sure, the only sounds were the blade and the crackle of the fire.

"Where will you go in search for them?" Tatia asked, her voice low, as she ran the blade along his scalp.

"The coast, I've heard rumors that the Blackthornes are selling slaves in the fishing market there,"

Tatia nodded, "it's a dangerous place, and not a good fate for any young child,"

"I have to try," Niklaus said, his voice heavy with emotion, his throat tight, his chest aching, the pain of losing his parents and brother still raw, the grief weighing on him.

"Of course," Tatia whispered, her voice like a song, her hands gentle as she ran them over his head, checking for any missed patches of hair. She braided the long strip of hair that remained on top, her touch gentle, comforting, "the gods will guide you, Niklaus."

Niklaus nodded, her words echoing in his head. He had always been a devout man, believing in the will of the gods, but lately, he felt lost, adrift, as if the gods had abandoned him, his family, his village.

"Why did the gods allow the Blackthornes to destroy my village?" He whispered, his voice hoarse, the pain and rage within him threatening to overwhelm him, "why did they let my parents die?"

"The gods work in mysterious ways, Niklaus," Tatia said, her voice soft, understanding, "they are not always clear in their will, we must trust them, and have faith that they have a plan."

She finished braiding, her hands sliding over his shoulders, the touch making his heart race. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, his mind swirling, his emotions churning. The young healer had a calming effect on him, the tension leaving his body, the rage and pain subsiding, at least for a moment.

She kissed the side of his head, her lips soft, warm, her scent intoxicating, a mixture of herbs and spices. She sat beside him, her hand on his arm, her eyes filled with concern, "You should rest," she said softly, "you have a long journey ahead of you."

Niklaus looked into her dark eyes, she was a singular beauty, one that he could easily lose himself in. He had felt a connection with her since the first moment he saw her, his soul calling out to her, begging him to surrender, to lose himself in her. But he knew he couldn't, he had made a promise, he had a duty to fulfill, he was to marry you.

But you could be dead, his mind whispered. And even if you weren't, there were no guarantees that he would find you, or that you would survive the journey.

And he could die, tomorrow or the next day, on the road, at the hands of the Blackthornes. The world was a dangerous place, and death was always around the corner.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, his heart hammering in his chest. He pressed his lips against hers, his hands cupping her face, the kiss deepening, the two of them melting into each other.

Niklaus felt a surge of lust, his body aching for her, the desire coursing through him, his mind spinning. He knew this was wrong, that he was betraying you, his future wife, but in this moment, he didn't care. All he wanted was her.

He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his eyes burning into hers. His hands went to her waist, lifting her onto his lap, his cock hardening, pressing against her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him, her lips warm and soft.

She rocked her hips against his, the friction sending waves of pleasure through him. He groaned, his fingers digging into her flesh, his need for her overwhelming him.

"Lay with me, before I ride off to Valhalla," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

She nodded, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes filled with desire. Her hand trailing down his chest, his body tensing at her touch, his blood burning for her.

He picked her up and carried her to her bed, the two of them falling onto the soft furs. Their bodies entwined, the passion and heat between them consuming them.

The guilt and shame Niklaus had felt earlier disappeared as Tatia moaned beneath him, her skin slick with sweat, her body quivering as he brought her to climax.

He kissed her, his tongue dancing with hers, the taste of her, the feeling of her body, soft and yielding, thoughts of you long forgotten.

{Part One} {Part Three} {Part Four}

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#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #klaus mikaelson #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #rebekah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #vikings au #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

[nevertheless-moving]

Stormlight AU 14, where kaladin manages to hold it together oathwise in words of radiance for a few more chapters, just long enough to out himself as radiant right after prison, because of course hes gotta fly and save everyone from bridge sabotage. Immediate cascade effect of radiant reveals.

Angsting over next week after prison. Shardplate and Blade possibly put on hold "too big a decision for him to just accept right away" "I just got out of jail and need some time to think."

People think he's insane but they thought that anyway

moash would be obvious choice - best friend/fighter but he still can't decide about elhokar assassination so the shards are just in very very valuable limbo...can he make it just general bridgemen Shards? No, too much training...

Joins shattered plains expedition as per canon

when the bridge collapses again what's he gonna do? Not save everyone?

Please.

Terrified officers start gently floating back up

Tries to lash shallan but she's already full of stormlight and it doesn't work on her. Moment of shocked, glowing eye contact.

there's a whole bunch of parshendi attacking so no time for kaladin to react to shallan falling or kholins to yell at kaladin

yes no time to deal with Dalinar. Kaladin has to do Very important flying thing. Uh...oh thank the almighty there's another army for him to fly at.

You KNOW bridge four had been storming Training a whole dramatic 'Captains Luck' thing. Bunch of gem pouches thrown in the air. Parshendi shouting as kaladin repeats the arrow drawing trick (sigzil is quietly pleased that after their practice, this time he throws the shield, as opposed to taking all those hits himself)

Adolin finally tore his attention away from the sky long enough to speak, dry mouthed.

"I take it by the..." he mimed the tossing of sphere pouches.

Storms, Skar had felt stupid practicing that, but Teft had insisted. And it was absolutely worth the weeks and weeks of extra weight, watching the Captain flying now. Jezrian's breath, when had he figured out flying? Lopen had said he had just started wall walking before prison. Had he figured out flying in prison? Oh, Brightlord Adolin was still talking.

"You all knew didn't you," Adolin looked amazed. "All of Bridge Four. I mean I knew there was something but - how in the Almighty's tenth name did you all keep this a secret? For this long!"

Skar and Drehy exchanged a glance.

"May we be blunt, Brightlord," Drehy finally said, watching as Kaladin swooped down low over the Parshendi, sending a few of them tumbling over to the next plateau, unharmed. Stormfather, he really was too good for this world.

"Please," Adolin said, gesturing emphatically.

Drehy hesitated, and they exchanged another look. Skar nodded at him, agreeing to take the lead, then took a deep breath.

"How in damnation did you not know??" His voice came out louder then he intended.

But storms, he had been waiting to say that for ages!

Drehy nodded eagerly, gesturing with the hand that wasn't holding his spear. "He storming glows!"

"I mean I know you were distracted during the tower assault- "

"Distracted?" Adolin sputtered.

"For a while I genuinely thought you knew but were keeping it secret for some stupid reason," Moash added, walking up. A small crowd was gathered around, attention pulled away slightly from the glowing man above and the retreating army.

"I mean," Moash snorted. "He formed a giant storming pillar of light while we were charging. You could see us charging. He was glowing like a herald for half the tower fight. No one from your entire army noticed?"

Dalinar coughed, sheepish look at odds with the golden gloryspren that kept flickering around his head.

"I... may have noticed a faint glow," he said slowly. "When he rescued me from the Parshendi Shardbarer."

The Blackthorn shrugged helplessly, looking at Kaladin, still high above. "I thought I was hallucinating..."

Why was he still up there anyway - Oh. Right. When he came down he'd have to deal with the lighteyes. Yeah, he'd stay up there too.

Adolin let out a short laugh, the hysterical noise seeming to escape uncontrolled. "You." He pointed at his father. "You saw a radiant in real life and your first thought was this is a hallucination."

Dalinar sighed. "I had hit my head. Quite a few times. It seemed more reasonable."

Adolin stared at his father, then laughed again. "You-" he couldn't get the words out over the chuckles. "Hallucinating-"

Adolin wiped his eyes, looking around. "Shallan would have something more witty, hold on."

He frowned, looking at the men who had been pulled from the chasm. They still glowed softly. Most looked shellshocked, and were holding something heavy. One of them was grinning, looking amazed as he waved his arms, bouncing off the ground, tethered by a bemused comrade.

"Where's Shallan?" He looked around more frantically, then ran to the Chasm's edge.

Skar let out a groan, and he and Drehy went after him.

"I don't think I saw her come up," Drehy whispered grimly.

Skar nodded back. Oh, there was going to be fallout for that. The Captain was always inconsolable when he failed to save someone, nevermind how many miracles he performed first - a bunch of lighteyes yelling at him was not going to help.

The Captain finally came back down, touching down at the chasm's edge just before Adolin arrived. Behind, he could hear Teft gruffly setting up a perimeter to keep onlookers back. The Highprince and the Queen's Mother pushed through of course, Renarin trailing behind. Storm's he hadn't even realized Renarin was there. Had he been running with the bridgecrew?

Skar's skin prickled as it usually did when he realized how outclassed he was was by the lighteyes around him. Almighty, the Captain most of all. He suppressed a small sigh of relief as Kaladin's eyes faded from a glowing whiteblue back to brown. He looked impassive at the Kholins.

Dalinar stepped up, opening his mouth to speak. A golden sphere spun to existence around him once more.

Kaladin turned to face him, hair streaming behind, looking for all the world like a Herald of Old, even without the glow.

Adolin interrupted. "Shallan," he said quietly, desperately. "She was on the bridge - please, I can't find her."

The Captain frowned and Skar's heart sank.

"I tried to grab her," Kaladin said slowly. "Lash her upwards. Everyone was falling too fast for me to do more....more than touch a hand to them."

"I'm sure you did everything you could," Dalinar said gravely, putting a hand on Adolin's shoulder. "I'm sorry son."

Adolin stumbled back, looking nauseous.

Kaladin shook his head. "No, you don't understand. It didn't work. She...I had to reach for another man who was about to hit a wall, but I think she was glowing. That she had already taken in Stormlight."

Adolin's head snapped up, eyes full of hope.

Kaladin shrugged. "If she's like me then...she's fine. It took me ages to figure out wallrunning, so I should still go get her."

He paused, looking off at air like he sometimes did. "Actually... I don't think most of the, uh, other orders could do the wallrunning and flying. So she's probably alright, I just need to go down and rescue her."

"What are you waiting for then?" Adolin asked eagerly.

"Son," Dalinar reprimanded. "More respectfully, please."

Adolin and Kaladin rolled their eyes in unison.

"He's still the same person," Adolin muttered. "I knew there was something strange about him."

Kaladin scoffed. "Yeah. You were right on my trail. Knew all about 'my thing with the stuff.'"

The prince brightened visibly. "And I was right! That's why you didn't want the Shardplate and Blade! You've already got your own? Or...do you have to earn it a certain way?"

Renarin sucked in a breath behind him. Skar glanced over, and saw the strange Brightlord's eyes wide with...realization, maybe? He was pretty hard to read.

The Captain, amazingly, smiled. "Something like that, princeling."

Adolin beamed, than smacked his hand to his face. "Thing... with the stuff! You need stormlight, don't you?"

He fumbled under his armor, before pulling out a small fortune in reserve Sapphire's in a pouch, tossing them.

Kaladin caught the bag, looking inside with a snort. "Well, this takes me back to how we met."

"What?"

"Nevermind. Doesn't matter."

The Captain still stood there, not breathing in, hesitating.

"Soldier?" Dalinar said. "Is there...some reason you don't want to rescue Brightlady Devar? The...other radiant?"

Kaladin let out a deep breath. "I...realize I've also been hiding my powers, so I don't have much ground for accusation. But I've suspected for sometime that she...might not be who she says she is. That she's dangerous."

Prince Adolin frowned, expression darkening as he crossed his arms. "We can figure that out once she's safe from the chasm. Now breathe in that bag and rescue my fiancee," he ordered. He hesitated, then blushed. "Please."

Kaladin sighed, then took in a deep breath, silvery white mist leaving the gems and filling the Captain with holy light. Awespren sprung up around them, and Skar knew that a few of them were his own. There were some things that you just didn't get used to.

With a salute, Kaladin stepped off the ledge, falling in a glowing streak of light. More awespren burst to life, but Skar just rolled his eyes. There were some things that you could get used to, and your commanding officer being a dramatic bastard was one of them.

continued here. also: other stormlight aus

#stormlight archive #words of radiance #words of radiance au #stormlight au no 14 #my au #stormlight au #Skar stormlight archive #cosmere #nevertheless cosmere

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a Lady - 18th century, poly, shifters x human romance - Chapter Three (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

Thank you so much for the interest and sweet comments you left about the last chapter! Things are picking up speed just a touch, and we get to see a bit of Locryn this time while our girl makes a daring rescue!

Content: near-drowning in the sea, slight head injury, protectiveness and some rudeness, Blackthorn (my beloved) Wordcount: 3223

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw)

Nel leapt off Blackthorns’ back, having no choice but to leave the mare untethered up on the windy cliff, and she raced down the tiny, winding path towards the rocky shore below.

Countless times she slipped and skidded on the loose grit, landing hard on her backside every time, but eventually she hit the smooth sand at a run and ploughed down the beach into the rough surf where the young man floated on his back amid the foaming white horses. Those waves thundered hungrily up the beach with all the lingering strength of the storm. The water was icy cold too as she waded in, and the shock of it drew a choked yelp from her as a wave smashed into her thighs and hips.

As she’d suspected, she could see now that the unconscious man was Edmund Nancarrow, but before she could reach for him, another pounding wave hit her in the midsection and this time it swept her off her feet. She floundered beneath the rushing surf, acrid saltwater filling her mouth and terror wiping her mind blank before she was somehow able to get her feet underneath her and stagger upright once again, coughing and gasping. She was soaked through, and the weight of the water-drenched fabric was enough to suck her under again, but when she got herself upright a second time, she set her feet a little wider and struggled back out to where he was floating on his back.

Just before another breaker rolled in, she saw that he had a wound on his forehead, though it had long since stopped bleeding; washed clean by the saltwater. His silver-brown hair was loose and streamed like kelp around him as she fought her way between the oncoming waves to hook her arms under his and tow him towards the shore.

She fell twice, sitting down in the surf and clamping her mouth and eyes shut as another wave sloshed over her head before she was able to get upright again.

She had no idea whether the tide was coming or going, but once she was out of the jealous, reaching sea, she dragged him as far as she could up the length of the sandy beach until her arms were shaking from the strain of it. She hauled him just a little further onwards, past the line of seaweed that lay scattered like dark lace between the hard wet sand and the dry, powdery sand of the last stretches of the beach, and carefully lowered him down. Her lungs burned and her throat was raw from inhaling mouthfuls of sea water. She coughed and retched reflexively, spitting and heaving onto the shore before she could even try to catch her breath or see to Edmund Nancarrow.

Her chest constricted and spasmed, and her limbs felt like lead, and she crashed to her knees on the wet sand beside him. The swathes of wet fabric swamped her, and she felt as if her dress carried enough fabric to rig a whole schooner. It was ruined now, if not from the salt then from the myriad rips and tears from the brambles and sharp stone on her frantic journey down the narrow cliff path.

Terrified that he would be dead, she reached out a trembling hand and pressed her fingertips to his pulse. She almost collapsed when she felt a steady, if slow, beat beneath his skin. “He lives yet…” she whispered, eyes closing. Salt and sand prickled along her lashes and her hair had come loose, falling in messy, wet curls around her face. “How do I help you now?” she hissed.

Breathing quickly as a new kind of panic set in, Nel looked around her and then back up at the path. Despite his slenderness, there was no way she would ever get him back up there on her own, but as a tiny drift of smoke wafted across the blue sky along the nearby cliff edge, she recalled that stone cottage which sat there like an autumn mushroom, all alone in a sea of grasses and gorse. If memory served her, that was Locryn Trevethan’s home.

“Any port in a storm,” she mused with a wry, dark grimace to herself, and she staggered to her feet. Immediately, she tripped and fell over the wet expanse of cloth, and with another grimace, she grabbed sodden fistfuls of the fabric and hauled them out of the way to show a shocking amount of calf, had anyone been there or conscious to see it.

She lost count of the number of times she still tripped over the heavy skirts on the narrow, twisting path back up the cliff. She had to stop twice just to catch her breath but it was fear for Edmund Nancarrow’s fading life that drove her on again before she’d fully recovered. By the time she had finally scrabbled to the top of the path again she was dirty, sweaty, shaking, and covered in grit and leaves.

At long last, she staggered over the rough ground at the top of the cliff and floundered to a halt on the flagstone threshold of the quiet cottage.

Hammering on the door felt like sacrilege in the peace of that place but she hardly had any choice, and there was every chance that Edmund had little time, so she bashed her fists on the door and yelled for help until it opened.

“Calm down, calm down,” a deep, gravelly voice rumbled as Locryn Trevethan pulled open the door to his house and glared at her. “What in the —?”

“I need your help,” she interrupted before he could slam the door in her face. “It’s Edmund. He’s hurt.”

At that, Locryn’s rough face blanched and all trace of hostility evaporated. “Where, lass? Where is he?” he demanded, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her, as if that would make the answer tumble out of her faster.

“Down on the beach,” she croaked and pointed. “He was floating face-up in the surf. I dragged him up the sand but I can’t get him up the cliff. He’s suffered a blow to the head, but he’s alive. Just.”

Ashen-faced, Locryn charged out through the doorway like a passing winter storm, almost knocking her off her feet as he went, and in only a fraction of the time it had taken her to reach the bottom, he was sprinting out over the sand on his thick, powerful legs to where she’d left Edmund’s corpse-still body. She’d never seen anyone run that fast, and might have been impressed if she wasn’t starting to show signs of shock herself.

For a while, Nel watched from the distant clifftop, exhausted and shivering from cold and lingering fear. It felt like watching a play from the upper circle of a theatre, only this one had every chance of turning into a genuine tragedy, and the men below weren’t acting. Locryn pumped Edmund’s chest in a rhythmic motion, and when Edmund eventually jerked and half-rolled sideways, Nel relaxed just a fraction.

A few minutes later, Locryn had scooped Edmund up from the sand and was marching back up the path again with him lying cradled in his arms like a bride after church. Only, Edmund looked pale to the point of death, and he was soaked through. He wore simple brown trousers and a linen shirt that stuck to every sharp angle of his skinny torso and revealed the delicate arches of his collarbones where it flopped open at the neck, and his head lolled alarmingly in Locryn’s massive arms, hair dangling and dripping.

“Move,” Locryn growled as he reached the top of the path and found her half-blocking his way as she just stared at them and tried to stop shivering. The wind bit through her wet clothes as they clung horribly to her body. She skittered sideways to let him pass. He didn’t stop as he elbowed his front door open again and trudged in, heedless of the sand he tracked in from his boots.

Nel hung back awkwardly in the doorway, watching as Locryn laid Edmund down on top of his covers and inspected the wound in his hairline with surprisingly delicate hands, given their roughness and size. “Can you hear me?” she heard him rumble and watched as Edmund’s eyelids flickered.

“My mare should still be a little way off,” she bleated. “I can ride for a doctor if —”

“No,” Locryn barked, straightening from his stoop over the bed to glare at her. “No need.”

“You’re sure?”

He actually lifted his lip at her and she held up her palms.

“I’m only trying to help,” she shot in a tremulous voice, fighting off tears of shock more than anything else in the face of his gruff temper. She hugged her arms around her middle to stop herself falling apart in front of the huge stranger, and she sucked her cheeks to keep from crying.

At the sight of her, Locryn’s whole demeanour changed. His massive shoulders sagged and he let his head hang. “I know,” he sighed, the sound gusting out of him in a rush. “I’m sorry. Come here then. Draw up a chair and hold his head while I try and get him to drink something. He’ll be alright.”

“You’re sure?” she said. “He looks like he’s been bludgeoned half to death.”

“Probably was,” he said. “Probably one of those damned revenue men with a fucking cudgel.”

Her eyebrows rose and her gaze slid unbidden to his right leg. “He was out in the storm too?”

“Most of them were out in it last night,” he said, fetching a simple, wooden cup from a shelf and returning to the bed while Nel crossed to meet him and slid her hand under Edmund’s head.

At the moment her fingers touched him, his eyes fluttered open and he took a deeper breath. “That’s it,” she smiled shakily. “Welcome back.”

He blinked groggily up at her and it took him a long while to focus properly on her face. When he did though, his lips parted and he inhaled so suddenly he started coughing.

“Here, love,” Locryn purred as he leaned in, heedless of Nel being close enough to hear the endearment. “Drink this.”

Nel supported his wet, salty, sandy head while Locryn let small amounts of liquid dribble into Edmund’s mouth. When he was satisfied, Locryn nodded at her, and she let him lie back on the pillow. While Edmund caught his breath, she tried to afford them both what privacy she could, and looked around her at the small, stone cottage.

A shimmering, silver sealskin was the first thing that snagged her gaze, draped over the back of a chair like a lady’s stole, and when Locryn saw her looking at it, he growled openly at her. He actually lifted one side of his lips fully this time and exposed a thick canine at her, and his green eyes seemed to flash silver in the quiet stillness of the room. The sound that accompanied the gesture wasn’t human at all, more like the rumbling of a guard mastiff. “Don’t you go touching anything in here,” he said.

Again, she just held up her hands mutely and realised why Aggie had been so keen to warn her away from him. He was more like a wild man from a fairytale than a fisherman.

From the bed, Edmund croaked, “Lock?”

“I’m here, love,” he said, again using the endearment freely in front of Nel. Perhaps a man who was happy enough to growl like an animal at young ladies was less than concerned over what society would think of him calling another man ‘love’.

“Took a bit of a crack on the head, I think,” Edmund said. “One of those revenue men in their damned cutter. She’s quick, Lock.”

“I should have been there,” he growled fiercely.

“Storm was too strong last night, even for you, sweetheart,” Ned smiled, his consonants were softened and worn down by exhaustion, like a wave-worn pebble in his mouth. He smiled though, and Nel relaxed a little when she saw it.

Locryn catalogued the movement of her shoulders out of the corner of his eye. “You got this young lady to thank for finding you,” he said and Nel flushed despite the cold that soaked into her muscles and started to make them stiff and her hands clumsy.

Edmund turned his dark brown eyes on her and smiled so sweetly and so openly that she felt her stomach flip over. “Th…Thank you,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering as a riptide of tiredness threatened to take him under.

“I’m glad I found you in time. And it was lucky you were on your back, or you might have drowned,” she said.

Something passed over Edmund’s sharp, thin features at that, and he turned even paler, if that was possible. “Yes,” he whispered faintly. His eyes darted across the room, seeing past her towards something on the other side that drew her attention with it, but she saw only the sealskin on the chair.

Nel took a deep breath and stood. She was shivering violently now and it was an effort to speak. “If you don’t need me, I’ll get out of your way,” she said to Locryn. “I need to get back to Heath Top,” she added, but he said nothing at all as she made her way to the door, and didn't break the rhythm of stroking his hand over Edmund’s head.

When she glanced back over her shoulder, she found him pressing a kiss of pure relief to Edmund’s forehead and she felt again that sharp ache in her chest. Knowing she’d overstayed her welcome, she stumbled away from the homely cottage and out towards the heath, and prayed that Blackthorn would be grazing where she’d left her.

To her immense relief, the mare spotted her at some distance across the meadow on the clifftop and jerked her head into the air, whickering around a huge mouthful of dandelions, and came trotting over with her nostrils flared wide in indignation at being so abruptly abandoned.

“There you are,” Nel laughed, rubbing circles on the pretty whorl between the horse’s eyes. “Look at you,” she added, pulling stray stalks and stems out of the bit and bridle where the mare had clearly been gorging herself on the meadow’s summer bounty. “Well, thank you for not wandering off, but how the Hell am I going to get back on?”

“I’ll give you a boost,” came a deep voice from behind her and she fairly leapt out of her skin.

Blackthorn immediately nipped her shoulder in sharp rebuke for also startling her in the process, and Nel jerked around.

There, standing on the shorter grass of the coastal path was Locryn. “Sorry,” he added. To be fair, he did actually look genuinely contrite despite his beastly size and dark glower.

Nel bowed her head and rested her forehead against the mare’s sun-warmed neck for a moment and let out a whickering laugh of her own. “I didn't hear you there,” she said. “You startled me.”

“Sorry,” he said again.

“Will… Will he be alright?” she asked, letting her gaze slide away from the ruggedly handsome man towards his stone house a way off down the grassy incline.

“Yes. He’s a whole lot tougher than he looks, I promise you. But he owes you his life, for sure.”

“I’m just glad I happened to come this way today,” she said. Again, she shivered as the wind gusted and tore through the sea-soaked fabric of her skirts as if they weren’t there at all.

In the strong sunlight, she could see that the colour of Locryn’s eyes perfectly matched that of the blue-green of the sea behind, and, set in his weathered, sun-bronzed face, they looked like the long-lost gems from a pirate hoard. She nearly scoffed at the comparison and chalked it up to hysteria brought on by the day’s ordeal.

The wind tugged insistently at his long, thick ponytail, and at six foot five or six, he absolutely towered over her. Yet, for all his gruff appearance and earlier rudeness, he smiled kindly at her for the first time. Then, his full, slightly scarred lips parted and he spoke falteringly.

“I… believe we might have got off on the wrong foot, miss,” he said in his harsh, gravelly bass. “I can be a mite short with people I don’t know — folk who aren’t from round here — and I’m damned protective of… of those I care for, but I apologise for making you feel unwelcome.”

His rough, heartfelt apology made her beam up at him, and she laughed in light-headed relief, pushing her brown, wind-tangled hair out of her eyes. What a state she was in. If anyone saw her now, she dreaded to think what their opinion of her would be. “It’s a small community, and you look out for your own,” she said. “I can’t blame you for that.”

“You’re kind, miss,” was all he said to that.

“Nel, please.”

“Nel?”

“Well, ‘Eleanor’, but only my family calls me that, and usually when I’ve been up to mischief.”

He laughed and jutted his chin at the mare beside her. “Best get you back aboard, Miss. Nel,” he said. “Wind’s picking up, and you need to get out of those wet clothes afore you get sick.”

Locryn dropped stiffly to one knee beside the mare and laced his fingers to give her a leg up. Tentatively, she set her sandy, wet boot in his palm and let him boost her upwards into the saddle in a single, smooth motion. Something in her core tightened at the thought of how strong he must be to lift her without so much as a grunt of effort. She wasn’t anywhere near as slim as Winnie, but her skirts had to weigh almost as much as she did with all the seawater still saturating every stitch and hem.

Once she was settled astride Blackthorn though, and those wet skirts were accommodated as comfortably out of the way as she could get them, she adjusted the reins and looked down at him. Blackthorn stamped her hoof into the grass and snorted, eager to be off.

“Tell Edmund I’ll be thinking of him as he recovers,” she blurted. “He’s… He’s lucky to have you to look after him.”

“I will,” Locryn said, settling her left boot in the stirrup with a firm grip that lingered on the joint of her ankle a moment too long and a touch too firmly. “He’ll be back to his old self in no time, you’ll see.”

Smiling faintly, she reined the mare around and trotted her a few paces up the path before urging her into an easy canter.

She felt the ghost of his strong fingers around her left ankle all day.

That night, Nel dreamed of thundering surf and scarred, weathered hands wandering in places she’d certainly never felt the hands of another; of low-frequency growls right in her ear and teeth nipping at skin; and of gentle, gasping moans escaping pale, slender, exposed throats and of running her fingertips along a sharp jawline, and she woke sweaty and tingling all over in the pre-dawn light.

___

Next chapter ->

Oh ho ho there, Nel... Next time we get to see a bit more of Edmund, and the harvest festival dance at Heath Top House is just around the corner. I wonder if all the local residents will come...?

I hope you're enjoying it and I hope you’ll consider reblogging as well as leaving a like if you enjoyed it. Take care of yourselves, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

#laces for a lady #selkie #selkie x human #selkie x bucca x human #bucca #cornish folklore #shapeshifter #shifter romance #polyamory #polyamorous romance #historical romance #exophilia #monster boyfriends #m/m/f #m/m/f historical romance

[library-seraph]

Griddlehark Playlist

What the title says, primarily about their relationship although there are a few individualized songs

(very heavily Harrow the ninth biased, which is the most romantic book despite or because of one member of the couple not being to able to remember the other)

Liner notes below cut, also, this is a perpetual WIP like all my playlists

Lioness- The World Is a Beautiful Place and I am Not Afraid to Die

When I was with you we were an estuary I don’t know if I come from the river or the sea All I know is you are both my opposite and my reflection

We were two bodies Running out of room in this world We carved space in ourselves for the other to borrow, for the other to burrow I wake up sometimes with ghost traces of your lips on my bones

Cosmia- Joanna Newsom (Joanna Newsom isn't on Spotify, track these down elsewhere)

Water were your limbs And the fire was your hair — And then the moonlight caught your eye And you rose through the air Well, if you've seen true light Then this is my prayer:

Will you call me, when you get there?

And I miss your precious heart;

NFWMB- Hozier

Give your heart and soul to charity 'Cause the rest of you The best of you Honey, belongs to me

If I was born as a blackthorn tree I'd wanna be felled by you Held by you Fuel the pyre of your enemies

Daughter of God- Phemiec

Doubt’s an elastic that snaps where you grasp it With idle hands clasped on your wrist just as sharp as A kiss on the scar where you carved out her name Or a line that is straight and confined to your fate You’re resigned to be damned by your hand in her hand She will hold you as soft as a feather on water You float on her fingers, she pulls you apart It’s not hard, it won't hurt, it’s not right for a daughter of god

There is a Light that Never Goes Out- Dum Dum Girls (cover)

And in the darkened underpass I thought oh, God, my chance has come at last But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask

And if a double-decker bus Crashes into us To die by your side Is such a heavenly way to die

Take Me to Church- Hozier (I'm allowed two screamingly obvious songs)

We were born sick, you heard them say it My church offers no absolutes She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom" The only heaven I'll be sent to Is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well

Never Let Me Go- Florence+ the Machine (This is the other one)

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me And all this devotion was rushing out of me And the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me But the arms of the ocean delivered me

The Only Thing- Sufjan Stevens

Do I care if I survive this? Bury the dead where they’re found In a veil of great surprises, I wonder did you love me at all?

Should I tear my eyes out now? Everything I see returns to you, somehow Should I tear my heart out now? Everything I feel returns to you, somehow I want to save you from your sorrow

Los Ageless (Piano Version)- St. Vincent

How can anybody have you? How can anybody have you and lose you? How can anybody have you and lose you And not lose their mind too?

I guess that's just me, honey, I guess that's how I'm built I try to tell you I love you but it comes out all sick I guess that's just me, honey, I guess that's how I'm built I try to write you a love song but it comes out a lament

Running up that Hill- Kate Bush (Okay, three)

You don't wanna hurt me But see how deep the bullet lies Unaware, I'm tearin' you asunder Oh, there is thunder in our hearts Is there so much hate for the ones we love? Oh, tell me, we both matter, don't we?

New Ceremony- Dry the River

I waited by your bedside And couldn't close my eyes all night I named you like a prayer It's anybody's guess how The angel of doubt came down And crept into your bed But after we danced to the shipping forecast The words escaped your mouth: "I know it's gotta stop, love, but I don't know how."

Now the stairs forget your shoes And the gate don't creak for want of you But the jury's out on me We're wise beyond our years But we're good at bad ideas, my love Or so it seems to be

OH ANNA- The Microphones

Oh Anna, take me in with water arms surround me, blow your breezy charms around me Oh Anna, you're a house of many rooms and all the secrets deep entombed within you I know a few

Oh Anna, take me to your eerie heights above, paint white letters "I you love" Oh Anna, drop me off a cliff I fall

Weights and Measures- Dry the River

I was prepared to love you And never expect anything of you There's no patron saint of silent restraint Baby there ain't no sword in our lake Just a funeral wake

Just because we're beasts of blame by nature Doesn't mean that you should carry it again It's a question of needs and not rosary beads in the end

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross- Sufjan Stevens

Drag me to hell in the valley of The Dalles Like my mother Give wings to a stone It’s only the shadow of a cross

I slept on my back in the shade of the meadowlark Like a champion Get drunk to get laid I take one more hit when you depart

The Bomb- Florence+ the Machine (This is "Kiriona Gaia has been abandoned by everybody except two of the worst people in canon and everything except being a warcrimes corpse puppet and she's TOTALLY FINE with that, honest")

But if I was free to love you You wouldn't want me, would you? Unavailability is the only thing that turns you on Come here, baby, tell me that I'm wrong

I've blown apart my life for you And bodies hit the floor for you And break me, shake me, devastate me Come here, baby, tell me that I'm wrong I don't love you, I just love the bomb (Oh, oh, oh) I let it burn, but it just had to be done (Oh, oh, oh) And I'm in ruins, but is it what I wanted all along? Sometimes, you get the girl, sometimes, you get the song

Francesca- Hozier

Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darlin', I'd scare so easily? Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm since I was born How could I fear any hurricane?

If someone asked me at the end I'd tell them, "Put me back in it" (Da-ah, darlin') I would do it again (Ah-ah, ah-ah) If I could hold you for a minute (Da-ah, darlin') I'd go through it again (Ah-ah, ah-ah)

In a Sweater Poorly Knit- mewithoutYou

You're a door-without-a-key, a field-without-a-fence You made a holy fool of me and I've thanked you ever since And if she comes circling back we'll end where we'd begun Like two pennies on the train track the train crushed into one But if I'm a crown without a king, if I'm a broken open seed If I come without a thing, then I come with all I need No boat out in the blue, no place to rest your head The trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead

Kept Woman- Fleet Foxes (Tbh this is probably the soundtrack to the ideal stigmata fisting/heart regrowing scene)

God above saw, ever in the mind Blue and white irises in a line Under your nameless shame I left you in frame, and you rose to be ossified As a Rose of the Oceanside

Can you be slow for a little while? Widow your soul for another mile? I'm just the same as when You saw me back then And we're bound to be reconciled We're bound to be reconciled

The Chain- Fleetwood Mac

And if you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you sayin' You would never break the chain (Never break the chain) And if you don't love me now (You don't love me now) You will never love me again I can still hear you sayin' (Still hear you saying) You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)

Time as a Symptom- Joanna Newsom

So it would seem to be true: When cruel birth debases, we forget When cruel death debases We believe it erases all the rest That precedes

In the nullifying, defeating, negating, repeating Joy of life; The nullifying, defeating, negating, repeating Joy of life

#the locked tomb #playlist #Spotify #orig post #griddlehark #gideon x harrow #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #fave chars

[sannes-reincarnation-saga]

Chapter two: Ivar.

CW: Slaves in a medieval society,  abuse, 

The only thing keeping Ivar alive in this hellhole was his desperate desire to kill Katherine Blackthorne.

It was a freezing November night and Ivar knew he was supposed to die here, trapped in this narrow kennel in the middle of the castle's courtyard.

During the day, he was on perfect display, stripped of his clothes and dignity for the English to gawk at. But now, the night engulfed him in darkness as thick as the northern sea during a night dive.

Pain pulsed through Ivar’s legs. They twitched, unable to straighten in the cramped space.

The kennel's icy bars warmed as they pressed into his shins and he leaned his clammy forehead against them. They felt almost good against the burn of his fever.

His back must have gotten infected after the last whipping. The soiled hay in his kennel stuck to the dried blood on his back, irritating the crisscross of partly crusted wounds. Every twitch pulled his skin painfully, and he trembled violently in the frigid air.

Somewhere to his right, a heavy metal door slammed shut. The servants’'s entrance? It was too loud for a wooden door and not loud enough for a castle gate. But this late at night?

A pair of heavy steps rushed towards the courtyard, joined by a couple lighter ones. Nervous whispers echoed through the cloister walk as they drew near.

“Does Lady Blackthorne know of this?” asked an older maid. Ivar strained to listen. Nothing ever happened in Blackthorn castle without the bitch’tes knowledge. And explicit permission.

“Not yet,” came the gruff reply.

“But- you can’t bring a stranger inside! Who even is this girl? Oh gods, what if she's a witch?”

“Doubtful. Found her out in the woods, totally out of it.”

“But- The woods? At this time? A girl shouldn’t be in the woods at night. And why- why is she naked?” The woman's voice pitched high within discomfort on the last question.

“Dunno. Should I have left her to freeze to death?”

“No! But- but I have nothing to do with this, you hear. Nothing.”

A lone lantern flame cast their long shadows onto the courtyard as they rounded a corner. Hissing, Ivar shifted onto his side to see them set foot on the wet cobblestones. They glittered in the light.

The head of housemaids hurried ahead, head turning hectic on her long neck to spot any possible witnesses lurking in the dark. Her bonnet sat askew on graying brown hair, thrown on in a rush no doubt, but her black servants dress fell straight down to her ankles, the dark linen pristine and bar any wrinkles.  In stark contrast to the bulky, mud smeared appearance of the huntsman following her. 

His boots and leather trousers were crusted in late autumn slush. A thick scarf and hat obscured half his face. Only his frostbitten red nose and grim eyes were visible, looking down at the person he carried bundled in his coat. 

“By the gods, did you hear that?”  Ivar could see the woman's face now, her sharp features drawn tight in displeasure. Her thin lips pursed as she spat out:  “I think that Norse pig is awake.”

The huntsman didn’t answer. Instead he wrapped his brown leather coat tighter around the unconscious girl in his arms. Pale, dangling legs and a shock of blond hair stuck out of it.

“How can you be this calm?” The woman spat, black skirt swishing as she faced him. “What if he rats us out for some extra food?”

The huntsman's bushy brows furrowed.  “The Norse are too proud to bargain for food scraps.”

Ivars dry lips cracked in a smile, when a sudden burst of wind whipped across the courtyard, its howl drowning out the servants' protests and extinguishing the lantern flame. When it hit him, his black salt-sweaty hair blew into his gray eyes, hay flying everywhere.

“A bad omen,” hissed the maid. Cloth rustled and a match scraped against a matchbox’s striking strip. Once. Twice. “I tell you all this is a bad omen.” It lit with a crackling sizzle.

The wind carried a smell that sent goosebumps down Ivar’s back.

The stench of angels.

The sweet decay of death hit him like a battering ram, catapulting his thoughts to abandoned battlefields full of angels sprouting from the ground, decomposing the corpses of his comrades.

Why would the huntsman haul an angel touched corpse from the woods? Ivar wondered, swallowing down bile.

After some fumbling the maid’s lantern flickered back to life and Ivar noticed the small puffs of warm breath escaping from the unconscious girl. So she wasn’t dead?

A draugr perhaps? No, Ivar doubted it. Never would the huntsman make such a mistake.

But angels only took the living. And never let go of the dead.

Whatever this girl was, a living corpse or a human, Ivar knew at least one thing for sure:

She was an unplanned disturbance in Katherine’s meticulously run machinery of a castle.

And during war, disturbances meant chances. 

Ivar curled up in his frigid kennel, back burning at the stretch. For the first time since his capture, he smiled. 

Taglist:

@ashintheairlikesnow @vickytokio @newbornwhumperfly @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @studyofwhump @dragyouthroughthewhump @studyofwhump @secretwhumplair @whump-queen @whump-captain

#isekai #dark fantasy #fantasy #isekai manga #light novel #manga #manga art #whump #viking whumpee #medival fantasy

[loife1m]

@aylin-hijabi @tastetherainbow290 @tinadablackthorn(who re blogged the last post) @queenie-blackthorn

basically, I’m texting in the dance group chat right. And I’m like: hey guys, what’s the location of the place” and blah blah blah right.

and yk, lemon dude’s friend (who’s in charge of it) sends it to me.

(WHY ARE THE PHOTOS ARENT WORKING I HATE THIS)

And I’m like: ok besties gonna go pick that up 🥰 gonna have to step outside and socialise

lemon dude: you do that???

me: stfu

Zoe: I don’t think we’ll hear back from her guys

me: OH MY GOD. BE QUIET.

person 1: since when did lemon dude fit in the category of loife’s 'oh my god be quiet’??

lemon dude: we’re besties 💅✨

lemon dude: that was my sister

me: “we’re besties 💅✨” indeed but u didn’t have to say it like that lmfao

me: me and lemon dude besties forever arc guys

lemon dude: go pick the costumes up loife.

me: no I’m not going alone like

me: EVERY TIME I STEP OUTSIDE-

person 2: ITS SOCIAL SUICIDDEEEEE

me: omg ily let’s be friends

Zoe: idk I could go with u but I have to give the participants names at the same time.

zoe: someone else go supervise her

me: well excuuuuusee me 🤨

zoe: lemon dude

lemon dude: I have the chore of supervising her???

lemon dude: jk pls don’t kill me

me: come here I won’t kill u 🥰🫶🫶🫶🫶

lemon dude: guys I’m scared she never uses that many emojis

me: are you calling me dry

lemon dude: no maam.

me: come supervise me if ur so mature

lemon dude: haha no

lemon dude: I’m too scared to socialise

(I was lowkey disappointed and panicking)

zoe: no u have to go

zoe: if she fucks something up while communicating we won’t be getting our costumes

lemon dude: I’m no better tho

lemon dude: I cannot socialise.

me: come let’s go

me: we’re going on a trip on our favourite rocket ship 🤡

lemon dude: fine

and that’s how we’re going to go together in 5 minutes 🤭

#sun kissed lemons #lemon dude <3 #loimen dufe #the loife show #loife updates

[dansnaturepictures]

09/10/2023-Lakeside and home

Pictures taken in this set: 1. Two Mute Swans alongside a Mallard which I was thrilled to see on the edge of beach lake at Lakeside. Just like the other week seeing the juveniles, seeing these two adults was an exciting moment and it was lovely to get some nice intimate views with others enjoying them too. 2. A splendid close view of a Coot in the bright sunshine near the swans. 3. A great close view of a Great Crested Grebe as I crossed the bridge. 4. Wild carrot at Lakeside. 5, 6 and 7. Beautiful views on another richly sunny walk at Lakeside. 8. Nice sky out the back this evening. 9. Bright dandelion out the front. 10. Magpie I enjoyed seeing out the back.

A great view of an exotic looking Chiffchaff in the vegetation from the bridge, my first Pied Wagtail at Lakeside for ages flying over and hear well which was fantastic and another Jay were other lunch time highlights, with top views of Long-tailed Tits and tuneful Robins again. Moorhen, Jackdaw, more stunning Red Admiral views, Migrant Hawker, possible Tapered Dron fly and another hoverfly were other highlights. I heard the sharp call of the Buzzard too, beautiful to hear on a sunny day. I enjoyed seeing Jackdaw, Goldfinch, Blue Tits in the garden, House Sparrow and Starling at home today. Hogweed, vervain, evening primrose, possible alfalfa, red valerian and dark mullein still going near the dry walls of the visitor centre looking gorgeous and colourful near each other, rich ivy attracting the drone fly, teasel seed heads, old man's beard, a trio of hawthorn, rowan and cotoneaster berries, rose hips, blackthorn sloes and the stunning red leaves of dogwood and the tree near the visitor centre were vibrant plant highlights today.

#photography #eastleigh #england #uk #earth #nature #birdwatching #buzzard #mute swan #mute swans #great crested grebe #ivy #world #walking #outdoors #2023 #moorhen #coot #chiffchaff #long-tailed tit #pied wagtail #red admiral #vervain #red valerian #dark mullein #october #sunny #autumn #dogwood #europe

[writingraven]

Writing Knowledge

Firewood

𓆱

notes

⇛ keep in mind your location and which wood is available to your characters; there’s so many times I’m reading or watching a show and they’re surrounded by certain trees but then have… a magically perfect fire pit?

⇛ different wood burns with different heat intensity and duration due to wood density and water retention

⇛ some wood also produces comparatively more smoke, which can be undesired, especially if your characters are trying to keep a low profile or something like that

⇛ seasoned firewood means it has been properly dried and stored for at least six months; seasoned wood will be darker and may be cracking at the ends; also will be lighter to carry and have less of a scent; unseasoned wood can be dangerous to burn

⇛ sap deposits and wet wood are harder to ignite and produce more smoke

⇛ if fire is not getting enough air (logs piled too tightly) it can produce more smoke

⇛ if wood is not fully dry it will emit a hissing sound as it tries to burn off the remaining moisture; this is a sign for poor burning

⇛ any wood from a tree/plant with the word ‘poison’ in the name will create smoke with irritant oils causing severe breathing problems and eye/skin irritation

𓆱

list

➝ alder : poor // low heat, short duration

➝ apple : good // low heat, long duration, very low smoke // sweet smell when burned

➝ ash : best // high heat, long duration, very low smoke // considered the best for firewood because it can be burnt even if not completely dried

➝ beech : very good // high heat, long duration, low smoke // smells pleasantly nutty when burned

➝ birch : fair // high heat, very short duration // can be good fire starter

➝ blackthorn : good // moderate heat, long duration, low smoke // very good for indoor fires

➝ cedar : good // moderate heat, long duration // tends to spit & leave sap deposits but can be good for kindling // pleasant smell

➝ cherry : good // high heat, long duration, low smoke // but during off season will spit & leave sap deposits // sweet scent when burned

➝ chestnut : poor // low heat, short duration, heavy smoke

➝ douglas fir : poor // low heat, short duration // leaves sap deposits

➝ elder : poor // low heat, short duration, heavy smoke

➝ elm : fair // moderate heat, long duration, heavy smoke // only after properly dried (takes nearly two years to dry completely) // smells pretty bad when burned

➝ eucalyptus : poor // high heat, short duration, heavy smoke // leaves a lot of sap deposits

➝ hawthorn : very good // high heat, long duration // traditional firewood

➝ hazel : good // high heat, moderate duration // almost no spitting

➝ hickory : good // high heat, moderate duration, low smoke // smells like a barbecue

➝ holly : poor // low heat, short duration // will burn wet or dry so can be good to start a fire

➝ hornbeam : good // high heat, moderate duration

➝ horse chestnut : fair // high heat, long duration // spits and sparks a lot making it unsafe (but decent for something like a stove)

➝ laburnum : very poor // low heat, short duration, heavy smoke // such thick smoke it is really unusable

➝ larch : fair // moderate heat, moderate duration // leaves a lot of sap deposits if unseasoned

➝ laurel : fair // moderate heat, moderate duration // leaves a lot of sap deposits if unseasoned

➝ lilac : good // moderate heat, moderate durations // plus smaller branches make excellent kindling

➝ lime : poor // low heat, short duration

➝ maple : good // high heat, long duration, low smoke // smells good when burned

➝ oak : good // high heat, long duration, low smoke // needs to be seasoned to be good // considered very good for indoor fireplaces

➝ pear : good // high heat, long duration // needs to be seasoned to be good // pleasant smell

➝ pine : fair // high heat, moderate duration // leaves a lot of sap deposits // not good for indoors but alright for fire pits

➝ plum : good // high heat, moderate duration

➝ poplar : very poor // low heat, short duration, heavy // thick choking smoke makes it unusable

➝ rowan : very good // high heat, long duration // excellent for any type of fire

➝ rhododendron : good // high heat, long duration // must be seasoned to be good

➝ robinia : fair // high heat, long duration // spits a lot

➝ spruce : poor // low heat, short duration

➝ sycamore : fair // moderate heat, moderate duration // must be seasoned first

➝ sweet chestnut : poor // moderate heat, moderate duration // spits a lot and produces a lot of smoke

➝ thorn : very good // high heat, long duration // one of the best woods due to very minimal spitting and smoke

➝ walnut : fair // moderate heat, moderate duration

➝ willow : poor // low heat, short duration

➝ yew : good // high heat, long duration // spits a lot, cannot be used for cooking // pleasant smell

#writing #story ideas #writing tips #fantasy #firewood #knowledge #writing reference #reference #fantasy writing #world building #survival

[vashs-posts]

Also guys girls and enbys

I hate that this sobh again reinforces something in Emma's and Julian's minds' that something is wrong with blackthorn hall. I mean we all obviously know it's not directly related, but suppose it's the straw that breaks the camel?

and on the other hand kit is being reall brave, but he's acting on fight or flight. What happens when he meets mother hawthorn? He would do anything for Mina. Suppose he gives too much of himself to mother hawthorn (in one way or another) ?

And that's one person he put in danger. So many people are after him. How much of himself can this 17 year old boy give to others to protect the people he cares about? Especially if he feels like they don't care about him? He will bleed dry. And then what?

Kit's arc in twp is going to be so damn heartbreaking and I'm not ready for it.

#cassandra clare #tsc #sobh #secrets of blackthorn hall #kit herondale #christopher herondale #kit rook #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #jem carstairs #tessa gray #kitty

[uchiha-7thsingularity]

Here's a confession. I tried my best to interpret their feelings and MC's. Still, new to understanding polycule relationships. Might continue this but in a different scenario. Anyhow, this is MC x Relix Confessions.

Frazzled to your core, sweaty fingers tangled in your knotted hair, pacing back and forth in front of your mirror going over the worst-case scenario. 

"Say I confess to them, or one of them, would they be open to the idea?, your tongue was dry and throat tight from holding a breath. The thought of disgust and rejection written on their faces nipped at your brain, "Should I clarify the idea to them separately or together? Maybe, I tell them my own feelings, therefore they know where I'm going with this bit by bit." 

Biting your bottom lip you tap your frantic foot against the spotless wooden floorboards in your chambers in Blackthorn.

 A year had passed to the point that a multitude of time you were stuck in Astrea was spent with the Starsworn. Your newfound family and friends.  Mainly, you spent the majority around the two one-of-a-kind necromancers. 

Infatuated with Felix's sympathetic nature and patience. And his ability to lift your spirits up with the idea of teaching you magic. With a single outstretched hand of his can make you swoon infinitely. 

Smitten by Rime's change of heart and endurance to challenge your mentality with the Astrolabe. His ambitious actions to redeem himself for the sake of earning forgiveness. A heartstring or two was struck by his true self.

You were frustrated with yourself. Things were finally peaceful among your new friendship with the two fellows. Each significant moment spent with either one or both at the same time, it had you in a spiral of emotions.

Their touch was intoxicating. It scorched you to the extent that thinking of leaving them would be suicide. It was hard to breathe without seeing them for the sake of piercing your heart with a hot needle. 

Fortunately, you weren't the only one who had been overthinking this confrontation.  

Felix had waited for five years to arise his beloved Rime once again. Alive and well. Till he summoned you right into his tired arms. Baffled but not deterred by his mistake.For his mistake was the beginning of a new chapter in his life.

 "My dearest barista, you've ignited a flame I thought died a long time ago, rubbing his headache away he heaves a sigh. "Hellish nonsense, the implication of me yearning to be a part of a chaotic duo! As if, my undead ex and apprentice would accept my unwanted presence in their relationship. Friendship? Beneficial alliance?" He took inspiration from you two's warm embraces, kind-hearted smiles, and so on. Then again, his heart could halt seeing you two get along day after day. It was refreshing to see the dynamic you two established with him in tow.

True, Rime had caused pain everywhere he went. Particularly, to you personally. Nevertheless, you forgave him for his misdeeds. And Felix with his own merits considered to propose Rime another chance. He didn't regret it. 

Up to the point Felix believed he needed to recognize Rime for who he exists as now. 

So he made the effort to acknowledge rime finally after taking some time to collect himself. And he started to see the new found attraction toward the two of you. 

Yes, summoning you was a mishap on his part. Your therapeutic advice helped him grow as a individual. To make the tough choices and speak for himself. You opened his eyes to a universal lifestyle. With or without his magic you made him understand his worth.

Instead, Rime gave insight into felix tampering with darker magic. He reminded felix their old selves hadn't vanished. Rather, reshaped into a newer version of themselves. A change of heart to realize there are consequences in actions and words. Dead or alive the deer had a knack for relieving Felix of his anguish for approval. 

Rime and you had awakened something within Felix over the following days spent as a trio. With heated debates, scheduled training, magical advancements, meals shared, and furthermore. This man mumbled under his breath in his office with his mind on repeat of the last few months.

Little did he know he was not the sole one in a frenzy to understand his rapid emotions.

His sanity gone wild was all over the place. Rime couldn't think of anyone or anything else, but you and Felix. It made his senses more feral than his corruption. He hunched in on himself against a tree, "Fuck, you two are unbearable." His heart sank at the mess he gotten himself into, "This is beyond crossing a line. I'd have a better chance getting back into hell than into their hearts." 

A dead man would never have to deal with his feelings. An undead man would most likely lose his will to live again for the sake of ruining his fresh-bound friendships. 

Moral of the story his feelings were brought to the surface for his arc to salvage his ashes from the wreckage he created of himself. "Damn it all!" He straightened his spine out standing tall, "Did it have to turnout this way?"

 Would you two hate him more than before? Did he even have a sliver of a chance at redemption in your favor? Or his?

He returned broken but you showed him he had the obligation to choose for himself. Hatred could not define his self-righteousness he was drowning in when you encouraged him to fight his inner demons. Especially, the similarities between the two of you became a strong bond. His black heart throbbed every time he saw you smile at him. 

Felix brought him back to give him a second lifetime. He was grateful for Felix to never have forgotten him completely. He did learn that notion of boundaries and coping with PTSD with a familiar friend. Choking down his pride he finally took the chance to live a life for himself. For self-reflection, mainly to find himself. 

Hanging with you and Felix was a turnover for him. Deer boi went bonkers seeing you two together without him. Jealousy was poison to him. He was irritated by the mere thought of being head over heels for you both. Confused. Indignant. Miserable. Like an itch that couldn't be scratched or picked at. 

His mind reeled into flashbacks of the time he saw you and Felix out and about in the market. So...so pleased. Just the two of you. He felt out of place for second. Until your eyes landed on him to wave him over along with Felix laughing at something you said beforehand. His heart fluttered. 

Once again, the entire dynamic you three had was irresistible to ignore. Just when he felt like an outsider you two strung along wherever and whenever. 

At this point you three had stopped in your tracks...and headed towards each other. Rime ran towards the tower doors in a swift. Felix rushed down into the first floor heading to the mess hall. And you raced out of your room to them at a quick pace. Not a moment late you all see one another to unravel the mess you all were waiting to pour your hearts and souls into. And then….(to be continued).

#fictif #last legacy #felix iskandar escellun #rime solano varela #polycule #confession #gender neutral reader

[drgnbld]

LEAN your daughter is eepy Lance

extremely self-indulgent meme. / @murmursdraconic.

" bit snoozy huh? "

his smile is gentle as shay's head rests upon his shoulder. it's a relatively warm - for blackthorn standards - mid week afternoon and while the gardens out the back of Lance's house were normally peaceful this was exceptionally so; his team had decided they all needed and wanted a rest, taking to the inside of the house rather than the outside ( all tired from the continuous camping, he assumes ) so only the sound of the wind's slight breeze caught within the autumn leaves surrounded them.

he was tired, too, but he's old enough to know that if he falls asleep now he'll be up all night again. truly horrifying being an adult he notes.

the grass they sit upon is soft and for once fairly dry, this morning's mist clearing up by the sun's early rays and a lack of shadows allowed the heat to bloom in the soil beneath. perhaps he should have brought a blanket to sit upon? never mind, they didn't think things through at all. spiked red hair falls upon shay's head as his own tilts to rest upon hers for a moment, arms and shoulders shifting with movement as the sound of a clasp is unclipped from his chest.

his cape, long and warm, now finds itself wrapping around the back of shay's shoulders and drapes over the front of her slightly.

" have a short rest, we've got all the time to catch up later. "

[nautiscarader]

Azure reunion - ch 2

(Ao3)

"We should set up a camp", Ash spoke, squeezing water out of his hat.

"Well, my half is done, let's go". Misty smiled and let him towards her fishing spot.

"So, what have you been up to?"

"There is a Pokémon fishing contest nearby, decided to try some of my lures.", Misty replied. "Of course the whole region around Lake of Rage got so popular ever since Lance caught that stupid red Gyarados of his…"

Misty scoffed, reaching for her backpack.

"Every trainer from the region thinks they will catch a golden Magikarp… But I've done my research and- AAGH!"

Misty shrieked as she turned around and her eyes laid on Ash, causing him to jump in place as well.

"What?!"

"Aargh! You're naked!", Misty screamed, averting her eyes from her disrobed friend.

"Well, you've said that I'm soaked!", he countered quickly, "Gotta dry them by the fire. I have been burned way too many times to use any of my fire Pokémon".

"And besides, I am not all naked", Ash grumbled, "You act like you haven't seen me in my boxers or my swimming trunks before."

Misty turned her head around, still dazed and baffled by the sudden naked figure of her friend. Yes, it was true, she has seen him half-naked dozens of times, but that was when he was ten-, or eleven-year-old boy…

The man she was throwing quick glances at certainly wasn't, unless one would judge him by the motif of his shorts, still dotted in zig-zags of Pikachu's tail. Although not all of those curves were caused by the printing design, Misty realised, causing her to look at the sun setting behind tree line.

"What were you talking about?", Ash's voice caused her to snap back to reality she has trailed off from, and was quite frankly glad to think about anything else.

"Oh, right", she cleared her throat. "While most Pokémon here are Magikarps, believe it or not, I am aiming for a Dratini!"

"Really?"

"Yes, that is because there is evidence that most reservoirs surrounding Blackthorn City are actually interconnected through underground tunnels. And one of those reservoirs is of course…"

"Dragon's Den!", Ash jumped to his feet, "That is where the entrance to Dragon Holy land is!"

"I know!", Misty exclaimed, but her excitement took a detour when her eyes laid upon Ash's naked chest, once more causing her to turn sideways. "Ekhm, I mean, I am glad you follow my reasoning."

Still looking at the lake, she sat on the ground, only occasionally throwing glances at her old friend. While she couldn't call him overly muscular, his chest showed visible traces of physical training, brought by years of travels, made only more pronounced by very few hair dotting his skin.

"If you catch one, it could befriend my Dragonite. And my Dracovish!"

"I am still not sure if that one was put together correctly…", Misty sighed.

"Oh, come on, he is doing his best. And he only nearly decapitated me once."

Misty laughed, her hand brushing with Ash's, promptly causing her to flinch. She hid her flustered face by turning away, wondering why on earth was she suddenly that nervous and easily startled, though deep down in her guts, she knew the answer very well…

"And have you seen any Dratini yet?", Ash continued, seemingly completely oblivious to the effect he was causing to her.

"Well, not yet, but I know they are here."

"How so?"

Misty cleared her throat and with some theatricality reached for her backpack, her lips curling into a triumphant smile as she took a thick magazine.

"It's all because of extensive hydrological studies we have done in the entire area over the course of last year or so."

She handed him the magazine, the type of which he'd often seen on shelves of the many professors and scientists he has befriended over the years. Misty opened it to a bookmarked page and pointed to her name amongst few others underneath a long article dotted with tables and graphs.

"Wow.", Ash gasped, unable to find the right words as his eyes scanned the page. "That looks like a lot of hard work"

"To be frank", she once again hid her flustered face, "I-I haven't done that much, I had just helped with gathering the data…"

"Never imagined you'd be doing Pokémon research…"

"Well, not all of us had time to travel around the world beating every trainer they meet, some of us decided to take care of their future!", she fumed, realising her tone immediately, as Ash's jokey smiley faded away.

"Sorry.", she apologised quickly,"I shouldn't have said that", she lowered her head, burying it against her knees.

"It's okay", Ash scooted next to her, making her look up at him, hearing his warm tone. "I was just a bit jealous, I guess. I am really proud of you! Maybe one day you will help professor Oak!"

"Thanks.",she replied softly, "But it really was just one-off thing, I don't see myself as one in the future…"

She met his apologetic, warm gaze, but immediately had to look down as he handed her the copy of her magazine.

"Oh!", she exclaimed as she packed it back, "Speaking of the future, have you heard about Brock and Olivia?"

"Have I?", Ash scoffed, "They've visited my mom personally to give the invitations."

"Can you believe it? Brock is getting married!", Misty clapped her hands, "After all these years and heartbreaks, he has finally found true love…" she spoke dreamily and swooned over to her side.

"Uh, Misty…"

"And they will have the wedding on the beach!", she continued, excitement in her voice only rising "This is so romantic… I cannot wait to go back to Alola…"

"M-Misty…"

"And he will be a dad too, can you imagine? Olivia must be so proud…"

"Misty!"

"What?"

She turned her head, only to find Ash's face mere inches away from hers, his shoulder being the sturdy thing she was leaning on this whole time. Misty was about to back away, but then she was hit with a new sensation, caused by an unfamiliar smell that made her feel hot, only urging her to breathe in more.

The musky, masculine fragrance that hit her nose intrigued her, as it wasn't just cologne - a fragrance she already did not expect - nor the smell of any Pokémon, but something new that stirred a part of her mind she didn't expect to be stirred at all…

She wanted to ask Ash about it, but fortunately, she couldn't, as her mouth was too busy kissing the lips of the boy she has so foolishly let go so many years ago…

Suddenly, with her eyes closing, that mysterious, intoxicating smell and taste overwhelmed her senses, dulling and muting every other sensations, perhaps aside from touch, when she moved from her safe spot next to him to a much more comfortable one, straddling his laps.

She opened her eyes wide at the same time as he did, never breaking the kiss that channelled their moans caused by Misty nesting herself against his crotch and what she was exerting more and more pressure on, feeling every twitch of his.

But at some point she had to break the long-overdue kiss, not only to breathe, but also to let her top slide over her head. And once it did, she was reconnected with an even more bewildered and wide-eyed expression, as Ash was mesmerised by her perky breast, jiggling softly just inches away from his lips.

"M-Misty…!", he raised his voice and met her eyes as the gym leader leaned forward, gently pushing him to his back.

"What?", she asked, unsure of his tone, "Wait, you're not going to tell me those are the first breasts the World Champion has ever seen?"

#pokeshipping #aaml #aamr #lemon #nautiscaraderfics #+

[theantarwitch]

Hi! Beginner non-Wiccan witch here! Been practicing witchcraft my whole life but only recently discovered that it was indeed witchcraft and that I am a witch. Now that I know, I research it and write everything down but I've also come across informations which are misleading or people having different opinions - for example, can I celebrate the wheel of the year's feasts? I've heard it's for pagans, witches and Wiccans but some Wiccans claim it's purely Wiccan and it doesn't help that a LOT of witchcraft books and sources are Wiccan too and that the words "witchcraft" and "Wiccan" are often used synonymously. So is there a neutral source out there? Do you know anything about it or someone who knows more?

Thank you in advance!

Hi there! You was a witch without knowing you was a witch, I feel sooooo identified! Welcome to the "gang" XD

That's a great question! We are indeed in an age of a lot of info and easy access to it, but also a toooon of missinformation and a huge more ton of "yeah but", so I will try to answer as tidy as I can.

Let's start with the Wiccan part. Pretty much a open practice invented in 1950ish, with some branches that are open by initiation, but the mayority is open to non wiccans, pagans and witches. Now, the Wheel of the Year is indeed a purely Wiccan thing. At least with that specific name (some celebrations as Yule are from ancient nordics, so they don't even changed the name)

They pretty much put these fancy names and rituals to something humans are doing since we first start to notice the seasons, so they "traditions" are just, as my friend EE stylishly point it, a not so secular way to celebrate solstices and equinoxes.

So yes, you can celebrate it even not being wiccan. Even more, do it more personalized if you want. Celebrate them at your own way, you don't have to make a feast in your altar and lit the candles if you don't want. Drink a glass of fresh lemonade in the first day of Spring and do cheers to the Sun is enough. If you prefer dance around a dry branch in the first day of Winter, go ahead. If you want to walk around a tree to celebrate Summer, heck yeah! If you want to make a fest in picknic style and feed birds and ants in all of them, RAD.

These celebrations are that, celebrations, party hard to conmemorate the seasons. You don't have to do it if you don't want or if you are not in the mood. You are not less witch for not do it (Dang it, I never do it).

And if you want to do it, you can pick the wiccan recipe or do it at your own. And if you have ancestors from some specific culture and you want to celebrate at their way, go ahead!

The use of Wiccan and Witchcraft as synonyms always make me mad, more when Wicca is pretty much a religion and Witchcraft is more a practice/lifestyle. The easy rule? If they mention "The God and Goddess", is wiccan. And since they pretty much just copy practices, history, culture, methods and stuffs from other antique open (and CLOSED) practices (like Karma and Chakras), learn from them eventually lead you to any kind of cultural appropiation, and you will need to start to research from more older practices and religions and and and and... a pain in the ass, I know.

From non wiccan books I can mention (I don't read any of them yet lol and I'm not sure if the links works):

The Witch's Book of Self-Care by Arin Murphy- Hiscock (PDF here)

Black Arts by Richard Cavendish (PDF here??)

What's Next After Wicca?: Non-Wiccan Occult Practices and Traditional Witchcraft by Sophia diGregorio.

I will also suggest check this vid with 10 non wiccan books!

The books it mention (if you can't/wan't check the vid) are:

Love Is in the Earth: A Kaleidoscope of Crystals: The Reference Book Describing the Metaphysical Properties of the Mineral Kingdom by Melody

Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom: A Tarot Journey to Self-Awareness by Rachel Pollack (PDF Here or Here?)

Astrology for Real Life: A Workbook for Beginners by Theresa Reed (PDF Here)

Blackthorn's Botanical Magic by Amy Blackthorn (PDF Here)

The Black Arts: A Concise History of Witchcraft, Demonology, Astrology, and Other Mystical Practices Throughout the Ages (Is before the vid, I'm too lazy to edit lol)

Psychic Witch: A Metaphysical Guide to Meditation, Magick & Manifestation by Mat Auryn (PDF Here)

Inner Witch: A Modern Guide to the Ancient Craft by Gabriela Herstik 

Besom, Stang & Sword: A Guide to Traditional Witchcraft, the Six-Fold Path & the Hidden Landscape by Christopher Orapello

Traditional Witchcraft: A Cornish Book of Ways by Gemma Gary (PDF Here or Here)

A Book of Pagan Prayer by Ceisiwr Serith (PDF Here)

I can also suggest check this link of Quora where people do the same question and people drop a TON of books.

And as a last advice, start to narrow your search. Instead to look for especific books of witchcraft, divide the craft. What I mean is, witchcraft have "branches". You have divination, astrology, astronomy, kitchen witch, herbs, crystals, the historical part, myths, etc, and each one is also divided... Divination have runes, tarot, pendulum, etc.

When you start to divide, you can find not witchy info. For example, if you look for tarot, you will find different types, different styles, so high chances the books and info you find, be less general and less wiccan. Of course, if you are starting, please don't do that or you will lose you mind XD Start general, yes, but with the time, get more focused, specially as soon you start to find your own path.

Because with the time, some of the stuffs you learned at first, will be never used. Let's say you learn about crystals now but then you find is not your thing and you never use them, but instead you love work with water. Then you can focus more in consecrated water, moon water, rain water, all the water.

Or you start to work with a Greek deity (not NOW, is not for begginers), so you will start to look info from anthropological books about the pantheon.

Is what happened to me with pendulums. I learned a lot and I don't like them lol.

Anyway, I stop to rant before I give you brain damage.

Take your time, learn at your speed, have fun, be safe and be blessed!

#baby witch #witchy #witch #witchcraft #wiccan #pagan #paganism #new witch #witch beginner #withcy #witches #books #pantheon #non wiccan

[amchara]

Herondales Don't Fail Ch. 4 - Unexpected Encounters

Ao3 / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Kit Herondale, Ty Blackthorn (Kit/Ty), original characters

Wordcount: 4,694 words

Rating: Mature (most of this story features canon-typical violence and sexual content but might occasionally go a bit past it, so... M just to cover all bases)

Summary: It’s been almost five years since an epic line-up of Shadowhunter heroes and their allies closed all the portals to Hell. Now, demons are scarce and the Nephilim are searching for their purpose in this new world. Centurion Ty Blackthorn has been sent to London to investigate a potential new threat, while Kit Herondale has taken up a post helping to rebuild the London Enclave.

Kit was happy to accept the London Institute’s invitation to assist in the rebuilding of the city’s Enclave. But he didn’t count on being blindsided into joining the competition to become its next head - or being hated by most of its inhabitants who assume he’s only there because of his name.

--

On one hand, Kit thought idly, the Institute’s library was amazing in both the depth of knowledge it held, as well as its gothic aesthetic. On the other hand, the utter silence that permeated throughout (he suspected there was some sort of warlock spell slash ancient rune going on) was terrible for his concentration, which wasn’t that great to begin with. He’d rather a busy coffee shop or a bustling public square or university quad. He sighed and tried to focus on his book.    

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Kit saw Jacob appear out of a nearby stack. With a determined air, he set down a small stack of papers on the wide, ancient desk that Kit was using. Beside him, he could see Ty subtly crane his neck to see what was going on. 

“As promised, the most relevant sources I could find on Institute-Faerie relations from 2007 onwards,” Jacob told, tapping a single finger on the papers. “Thought you might want the view from the Cold Peace onwards.” 

“Thanks a lot,” Kit said sincerely. He closed the book of Vampire Amour: The story of Camille Belcourt, which despite the promising title was actually quite dry and didn’t seem like it would prepare him for his meeting with the local vampire clan. Plus, Camille had apparently left the city in the early 1900s for New York. 

“There are maps of the local portals to Faerie included in it, and meeting transcripts with both Seelie and Unseelie court representatives, along with a few recorded instances with the Wild and Free Fae,” Jacob said. He trailed off, his gaze drifting to Ty, who was quietly reading his own findings on demonic summonings throughout the city’s history, in case it provided any clues on the wraiths. 

“But?” Kit had a feeling Jacob was waiting to say more but was hesitant to do so in front of a Centurion. From his brief stay at the Institute, despite their supposed collaborative nature Kit had observed an undercurrent of rivalry between the two institutions. Which made it interesting given Ty’s insistence that they score the Institute library for any clues. 

Jacob hesitated then continued, his voice pitched lower, which Kit found slightly amusing, given what he knew about Shadowhunters’ typically keen hearing. “The primary sources I found seemed to be thinner than expected. Perhaps related to the low staffing we’ve had at the Institute in recent years. It’s something I’ve encountered across several subject areas.” 

“Hmm.” Kit wondered if that was intentional. “What other areas?” He leaned forward to look at the papers. 

“Mostly Downworld issues,” Jacob said. “Partially why I’m embarking on my warlock interviews, to fill in the gaps.” 

Kit decided to take a leap. “Did you come across any mention of tithes?”  

“Tithes?” Jacob eyed him. “Like the religious ones we receive from churches and synagogues and mosques, temples etc.?”

“Those or any other type. Apparently Institutes used to use them quite often,” Kit mentioned. He could sense rather than see Ty’s attention focusing in on them. 

Jacob scoffed. “It’s an antiquated tradition,” he said. But he hesitated. “There’s- read the documents I’ve prepared,” he said. “We can discuss it more when I’m back from Berlin,” he said, a touch self-importantly. He was departing that afternoon for meetings with the European Heads, along with Evelyn and Roger. Kit and Sabina were to hold down the fort while they were gone. 

“Sure.” Kit studied him. “Have a good time- and thanks again, Jacob.”

Ty wore a look of subtle concentration, as he watched Jacob stride out of the library, making short work of the distance. “He definitely knows more than he told you about tithes,” he said conversationally, a minute or two after Jacob left. He shut the large, stained and mouldering summoning book he had been studying and swung his legs around, standing up to stretch. 

“Mmm,” Kit agreed. “Whether he plans to share it is another question entirely. But I plan to do some snooping while he, Evelyn and Roger are out. Maybe that will shed some light.” 

Ty nodded as he packed away his notebooks. “Good luck with it,” he said, bending down to give him a quick kiss on the forehead. “I have to head back to Whitehall now - I’ll see you later.”

“I have patrol tonight,” Kit reminded him. “I’ll see you when I get in.”

--

Sabina hovered her hands over the locked case of ceremonial blades in Evelyn’s office, Fingers trembling, she unlocked the cupboard and picked up the nearest weapon. Thunder boomed overhead and she jumped as the rainstorm intensified outside. Get a hold of yourself, she shook herself internally. 

Roger hadn’t been receptive to her request, his voice sharp as he explained she was responsible for her own ‘mundane issues.’ No one would miss one, jewel-encrusted blade, least of all Evelyn, who though she tried to hide it, was rapidly losing her sight, Sabina knew. She could pawn it and in the month it would take her to save up to buy it back, no one would notice it was gone. 

She palmed it, turning- and jumped at the shadow in the doorway. The knife clattered onto the ground several feet away. The shadow emerged into the light, picking it up.  

“Here you go,” Herondale’s voice was calm in the shattering silence that followed. 

“I was just-” Sabina saw a calculating light in his eyes, and she felt a flash of rage before the despair. She had thought it safe, with the meeting in Berlin planned, and last she had seen Kit, he had been in the library. 

“As a former pickpocket and knife-stealing connoisseur, I know exactly what you were about to do,” he said agreeably. 

 She thought about denying it but realised the futility. Her shoulders slumped. “I might as well just hand over the keys of the Institute now then, shall I?”

There was further silence as Sabina internally tried to rationalise what she had done and figure out if she could explain… and then Kit snorted. “Don’t do that,” he said lightly. “I’d hate for all of my own efforts to avoid the responsibility to be wasted.”

Wait, what was that? Amid her panic, his words stuck in her head. 

She looked over at him, sceptical. “You don’t want to be Head?”

He shook his head, a small crooked smile emerging. 

She watched him, worrying the blade handle. This had to be a trick of his- she had heard Herondales were wily strategists, although this was coming out of left field. She beat down that note of hope. 

“Why not? You’re a Herondale; Evelyn is practically begging you to take over,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. 

Kit came over and gestured - she handed him the dagger she was still clutching in her hand. “Nice ruby,” he said, hefting the blade and she could almost hear him thinking as he turned it over. It glinted in the light. “Looks similar to the ones I lifted out of the L.A. Institute.”

“Teenage misdeeds, I’m sure.” She resisted snatching back the dagger.

He handed it back to her and hoisted himself up on a nearby weighty trunk holding ceremonial swords. Very deliberately he turned around, whistling as if minding his own business. He didn’t ask her why a senior member of the London Institute was stealing ornamental weapons.   

Sabina hesitated a moment but replaced the dagger. She’d find another way to help her nine - maybe see if that payday loan place would take an advance on her salary so she could pay for the surgery in Istanbul. Kit turned around as soon as he heard the small click of the ancient case close shut. She squared her shoulders to face him - now he had leverage on her, which was never a good sign.  

Almost as if he were reading her thoughts, he started talking again, this time his voice a fraction higher and faster, as if confessing. 

“I shouldn’t take over the Institute because I’m wholly unsuited to it,” he said. “I’ve broken Clave laws - I’ve lifted weapons from Institutes to sell, I’ve told my mundane friends about the Shadow World, I’ve been to therapy, I’ve helped Downworlders escape Clave warrants, I’m definitely way closer to the mundane world than I should be...”

“I come from a mundane background,” Sabina reminded him. “It seems to be less of a deal-breaker than it used to be. Plus, it doesn’t seem like breaking rules did Jace Herondale any harm. Or any Herondale.” 

He let out a frustrated noise. “How about I just tell you- I don’t want to be head of the London Institute. Jace does a great job running the New York Institute but I’m not him. Fuck the Herondale name. Fuck its legacy,” he said, his sky-blue eyes serious as he met her gaze. 

There was a pause as they both sized the other up. “All right…” Sabina looked at him. She could either believe him… or not. “What do you want then?”

He gave a brief shrug. “I dunno? To be a normal Shadowhunter, to go on patrols, come back home to my brilliant boyfriend, maybe forge better ties between Shadowhunters and the London Downworld… I want to help rebuild the London Enclave however I can--” he said. “But I don’t want to be tied to it as head of Institute. I hate meetings, politics… and paperwork.” 

Sabina felt tired. “You say this now…”

“Right- maybe, in say another decade,” Kit said. He smiled cheekily. “Maybe once you retire, I’ll reconsider.”

“Oi, I’m only a few years older than you,” Sabina said, but she was starting to relax a bit. And he had said…

“So, you think I should be the next head?” she asked casually. 

Kit looked surprised at her question. “Up until I saw you stone-cold stealing from the current head, sure. Even then, depending on your reasons, that probably increases your qualifications in my eyes. And regardless - you’re miles better than poshy mcposh face.” 

“Jacob isn’t that bad,” she conceded and she thought she saw a flash of surprise cross his face at her defense of him. 

“He’s also a Dearborn,” he muttered but backed down when she gave him a look.

“Bit rich from ‘I don’t want to be a Herondale-”

“I never said I didn’t want to be a Herondale,” Kit hastily corrected her. “I just want to be one in a different way.” He considered her question but quickly answered. “And maybe it’s petty of me with the Dearborn stuff but c’mon surely you don’t want to exchange one pale, stale male for another, just with a hotter accent. Plus, you’re the better Shadowhunter than him, right?”

“Definitely,” she shot back. “Better than you as well.”

Kit’s grin changed to one with a challenging, arrogant edge. “Oooh, I see how it is.” But it quickly softened as he jumped down and started walking for the door. “Let’s not argue semantics but say that you’re likely better suited to running an Institute and I’m much better at-”

“Being Mr April on the Hot Shadowhunters calendar,” Sabina quickly interjected and she saw his face jump in surprise that she had found that nugget of information. 

“That was one time,” he said. “As a favour to Lily...” 

“Sure, whatever you say, pretty boy,” she said. 

“Oh, don’t start-” Kit said, his face screwing up in a way that made him look younger. “How about you just call me by my name?” he asked, plaintively. “And not Herondale either- as we’ve established, we’re more than just our last names.”

She took a deep breath. “Sure- I can do that,” she said. “Kit.”

And a different smile emerged than the ones she had seen before from him- one that didn’t play to his obvious good looks, or his smooth, charming smiles that she didn’t trust - this one seemed more real. 

“So- we’re good?” she asked nervously as they left Evelyn’s office, walking down the open archway where windows to the outside showed water streaming down stained glass. 

“I hope so- ‘specially as you now know my intentions regarding this competition” he said. He stopped and turned to her, looking thoughtful. “But… it’s kind of hard to ignore attempted theft.”

The feeling of despair and resignation surged through again, the fragile truce they had created crumbling beneath her. “So… you’re going to tell Evelyn and Roger.” 

“No,” he said, after a moment of studying her. “I highly doubt you regularly steal from the Institute- you’re way too nervous to be a regular thief… maybe I’m wrong. But if you need money, or there’s someone you need to pay off, that’s a dangerous position to be in for someone who wants to be Head,” he said. “So, let me help.”

“What? No, absolutely not,” Sabina said immediately. But then she wavered - she knew exactly the point he was making. But it was why she needed to be Head too- if she couldn’t make it on a tutor’s salary… how could she live as a Shadowhunter and still fulfill her mundane family obligations?

“I realise it looks bad,” she admitted. “But… it was for a mundane situation where I just didn’t manage my cash flow as well as I could have. It’s only happened just this once and I don’t intend to let it happen again,” she said. 

He was watching her carefully, with a distant look in his eyes she was starting to recognise.  

“Okay, fine. Do you swear on the Angel?” he asked suddenly. “On Raziel’s name?”

There was a charged moment where lightning flashed upon his face, lighting it up in a way that made Sabina give a bit more credence to some of the rumours she had heard about Kit Herondale, and what he was capable of. But she wasn’t exactly a pushover either. “Yeah, I do-” she said, lifting her chin. “On his name. So either trust me - or you tell Evelyn.” And with that, she left him and strode quickly down the hall, heart pounding and feeling her cheeks red with mortification. 

-- 

“Noura?” Kit called cautiously. Witchlight flickered around him, throwing shadows in sharp relief against the crypt walls. He tried to ignore the pricking of skin on the back of his neck as he stepped off the staircase. 

Although it wasn’t anything like the Seelie Queen’s dungeon, the still, slightly damp air and cold draft blowing on his face brought up uncomfortable memories he rather preferred to suppress. He concentrated instead on trying to figure out what Sabina’s reasons were for stealing daggers - luckily she had been too busy being horrified at getting caught to ask why he was lurking around Evelyn’s office. 

The crypt was a mess of contradictions. Old, faded tapestries hung on the walls, covering shadowy alcoves, while modern countertops that wouldn’t look out of place in a high school lab, sat directly in front of him, with several stacks of test tubes tidied away on free-standing shelves. Close by was a large industrial sink. 

In a far corner, Kit could see a hazy light-filled outline of a doorway covered off with hazard tape, and a couple of electronic gadgets which looked disturbingly like bomb detonators attached to them, blinking innocently. It was the permanent door to the Cornwall Institute that Noura had told him she was ‘studying’ and ‘monitoring.’ Overall, the vibe was more mad scientist’s lab than Kit was entirely comfortable with, especially alone, so he called Noura’s name once more into the echoey darkness and after a couple more minutes of no response, he turned to go. 

Just before he placed a foot on the first, steep step, he could hear a sound behind him, a light scrape of a shoe on stone and a hand reached out to touch his shoulder. He acted on instinct, grabbing a knife off his forearm sheath, even as he spun around to push the assailant against the wall, blade angled for a killing blow at the base of the neck. 

Noura’s eyes were wide and white, like a deer frozen in headlights. Kit withdrew the knife immediately and backed up, staring warily at her. 

In contrast, a smile started blooming across her face. “Wow, nice reflexes,” she said. As usual, there were smudges of black across her face, and she was dressed already in patrol gear, her short bob-length hair pinned back behind her ears. He could see several weapons dangling from her belt. 

“Yeah, so good I could avoid actually impaling you,” he shot back. “How about you try not sneaking up on me next time? I was calling you- not cool that you didn’t answer.” His nerves were jangling, and he forced himself to take several deep breaths. 

Her smile flattened at his last sentence. She tapped a rune on her neck and then again at a different spot, just by her ear. “How about you remember that I can’t hear that well, dude?” 

“I uh-” Kit floundered. “Yeah, okay,” he said, fumbling slightly as he put away his dagger. “That was stupid of me, sorry.” 

She nudged his shoulder in a friendly manner as they climbed up the steps. “About as stupid as me sneaking up on someone who clearly has PTSD,” she agreed cheerfully, in a sort of apology. 

“So… like, all Shadowhunters,” Kit muttered under his breath, where he knew Noura wouldn’t be able to hear him. 

At the top of the steps, Kit turned to her, ensuring she could read his lips, remembering the instructions she had given before their first patrol together earlier in the week. “So- same as last time?” he asked and she nodded as they ran through five straightforward hand signals she had taught him. 

In the entrance way, they ran through their inventory of weapons, and Kit applied his normal repertoire of Marks, including Talent and Night Vision runes while Noura chose several similar ones. She also drew on her neck an elaborate swooping rune – apparently a special one given as dispensation from the Silent Brothers to aid her deteriorating hearing. 

Kit touched her shoulder. “Good to go?” he asked. She gave him a thumbs up and they opened up the heavy Institute doors and headed out into the misty London evening. 

-- 

Kit looked up at the sky, which had started to clear, the waxing gibbous moon bright on the puddles in front of his path. He was panting a little and beside him, he could see Noura bent over her empty bow, the majestic spectacle of a lit-up Tower Bridge behind her. 

He gave her the ‘ok?’ sign and she mirrored it. They both grinned at each other, in the afterglow of a successful skirmish. Between them they had just demolished a pack of Moloch demons, their nest in the underside of the famous bridge. Once they spotted the nest, Noura had pulled out a small, clear baggie of what looked like dull, shiny dust and sprinkled it onto several arrow heads. She had taken aim then at the nearest demon, and as her arrow left her longbow, she whispered Adriel and it took on a blinding seraph light, cleaving the demon in half. Several more napalm-like arrows had followed swiftly. 

Kit had pulled out a seraph blade and intercepted the closer demons, dancing ahead of their snapping jaws, protecting while Noura picked off the further ones. 

In the aftermath, he took a moment to savour the feeling of a job well done. Despite the physical exertion, he felt a lightness in his body for the first time in a while.

Part of it was the company. Not only this evening but previously Noura had treated him like any visiting Shadowhunter, inviting him down to visit her ‘lab’, and always waving him over to sit with her during lunches (if Sabina wasn’t around). As one of the only other adult Shadowhunters who wasn’t involved in the Institute Head competition and didn’t seem to have any agenda, he was happy to have a potential friend.  

Having caught their breath, they both continued their patrol through St Katherine’s docks, padding silently across uneven cobbled roads, old warehouses-turned condos on one side, and a bright, moon-lit marina on the other. 

“That was fun,” she commented. “Haven’t killed that many demons since my first year out of the Academy.”

“Really?” Kit raised his eyebrows. He stood from where he was wiping demon ichor off his blade on a low, decorative bush. 

“Yeah… I don’t go on many patrols anymore,” she said slowly. “There have been some close calls- and my hearing loss can be a liability, especially as the s-bruvs’ rune fades the longer we’re out.” She stopped, then added: “Sabina only put me back on rota over Evelyn’s protests because of the wraiths.” 

Kit absorbed what she said and although it was a different case, he was put into mind the small headphones Ty sometimes wore while fighting. “Evelyn’s an old garbage bag of a human,” he said, empathetically, making sure she could see his face and words, not sure how much her rune picked up. “I’m happy to adapt to whatever you need to do to fight- plus, you have strengths in other ways,” he said, nodding to her arrows and the small bag of adamas dust attached to her belt.

She nodded, smiling slightly. “How do you like London so far?” she asked, as they scaled a low wall.   

Kit couldn’t help but let some of his feelings show on his face as he decided how to answer. Noura noticed. “That much, huh?” she said, her laugh echoing down the empty road in front of them. “You shouldn’t pay attention to Sabina and Jacob’s reactions. When they haven’t been snogging, they’ve been elbowing each other out of the way for years to be in the better position for when Evelyn eventually stood aside. You arriving kind of threw that all out. Not that you’ll be chosen anyway as Sabina is clearly the superior choice,” she said, very assured in her pronouncement but grinning as if to take the sting away from her dismissal of him. 

“Yeah, I know-” Kit said, mentally filing away the fact about Sabina and Jacob to examine later. He also was incredibly curious to know if Noura knew about Sabina’s trip to Evelyn’s office- and he tried to think of a subtle way to check. But then something struck him. 

“What about Roger? Before he got sick, wasn’t he the natural successor to Evelyn?” 

Noura immediately looked away, and in the moonlight Kit thought he saw uneasiness on her face. 

Instinctively, Kit dug out his phone and thumbed it open to the mysterious text message. He showed it to her and she leaned in to read it, brushing her fingers over the text. 

“Noura- something’s wrong at the Institute, isn’t it? I got this message the day I arrived in London…”

Suddenly Noura’s body language changed, and almost a second too late, Kit reacted. She tackled him and they flew to the ground. As his knees met hard cobbles, Kit could see a sickly yellow-grey glow behind him. 

He let out a muffled yelp, and both he and Noura scrambled backwards as the wraith rose from its crouched position. It was strange, Kit thought, as he pulled out a seraph blade and a dagger, how ethereal it looked. Mostly it looked like a human-like miasma of yellow-grey fire. For a moment Kit thought the roiling surface cleared so he could see a youthful face. But perhaps it was a trick of the light.  

It let out a low keening noise, as if wounded. Suddenly Kit felt an invisible, forceful push and he flew through the air. Thanks to his previous wraith’s experience, he had anticipated it and rolled as he landed, about five feet away. Nearby, he saw Noura’s bow fly out of her hand as she landed hard on her hip. 

They looked at each other and while she grimaced, she made the ‘okay’ gesture to him. He returned it but looking across, he could see she was also shaken. But they were also Shadowhunters- and within moments they had started running after the fiery figure now gaining ground away from them. 

-- 

They lost the wraith after a few blocks but continued their tracking work until almost dawn. Kit’s conversation was forgotten in the immediacy of their work. 

As early sun rays started to shine on the wet, slick roads and their movements grew wearier from fatigue, Kit signalled to head back. A few blocks from the Institute, Kit attempted to draw Noura aside. “About earlier-” he said, pointing to his phone.  

She made a face and said slightly loudly, pointing to her neck, where the elaborate rune, once black, was now almost a silvery white colour. “I can’t hear much anymore.” But then with a considering look on her face, she pulled out her own phone. Roger isn’t much liked by Evelyn. I don’t know why. And he’s down in the crypts too often for my liking. 

He bothers you? 

Noura’s eyes narrowed. no he ignores me. which is fine

What does he do down there? Kit typed.

There are several tunnels from the crypt, built during the 2 ww that lead to weapons cache. That’s an entrance there. Noura gestured to a small stone memorial on the corner of the road and Kit looked at it while she typed. It was like any of the other many small stone statues or monuments that were scattered around London, as testament to its long history. He says he’s checking them. but it’s really often     

She looked up at him. Carefully, she typed out the last part. I didn’t send that message to you but i think someone else in the institute did. But whoever it is, maybe they can tell u more about what’s wrong. I’ll help where i can. 

She shifted her weight, clearly hesitating. But then she put away her phone. 

Kit had so many more questions. But he also knew they were both about to collapse from lack of sleep, and he could see she was favouring her left leg, where she had landed when the wraith had thrown here. Let’s chat again about it but don’t tell anyone else yet. Even sabina please 

She frowned, then slowly nodded. 

--

Ty was already up, drinking coffee in the kitchen when Kit walked through on his way upstairs, drooping with weariness. 

He managed a quick smile but something about his mannerisms must have triggered Ty’s protective intuition, as he rose quickly from his chair, pushing his headphones down. “What happened?” 

Kit let his head fall into the familiar groove of Ty’s shoulder as he wrapped himself around his boyfriend. “I’m fine,” he said softly. “Just- a long patrol. And one that included wraiths,” he said. He could feel Ty’s breathing stutter, and he quickly added. “We were surprised by one up close- but it didn’t harm us. But also, we spent almost the whole night trying to track it and failed to find it again.”

“That’s okay,” Ty replied, reassuring pressure from his hands as they moved across Kit’s body, checking for any injuries - a long practiced dance they were both used to. “We’ve had similar patrols.” 

Kit stiffened. “What? You’ve come across them again up close?”

Ty drew him back so he could see his face. “It is my job to track them down,” he said, a slightly bewildered look on his face at Kit’s objection. 

“Yeah, I know,” Kit said, with a small sigh. “Just- be careful. It gave me the creeps.”

“Likewise,” Ty said. He stepped back. “As one of the lead investigators on the case, I’ll need to get your debrief on your encounter- but…” his eyes were soft as they looked at Kit. “That can wait until you’ve slept.” 

Kit didn’t disagree but instead went upstairs, collapsing into bed. Just before he escaped into exhaustion, he realised he also needed to update Ty on the Institute mystery - but all that would wait.

He dreamed of tunnels with echoing footsteps, and a laughing girlish voice calling his name.  

--

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